#but i was sat with the special ed teacher and kids and wasn’t allowed to move and she was like. assigned to help me.

[metallteeff]

i am going to be personal bewareeeeee

this one is going to be brief but i am so so so torn on seeking on autism diagnosis. i’m very sure i have it and im so sure because i think it’s level 2 (i think that’s the new system). but i really don’t want to have a record of that and being trans. because both will eventually be documented if i get a diagnosis. but it’s like ohhhhhh my god. there’s just certain things i actually can’t do but i have have a sheet of paper to wave around so people can listen to me and help me. but it’s hard to mask things like really obviously physical autistic atttributes if that makes sense. like my posture and how i stim is not very easy to mask its like fucking punching my fists and gnawing on shit.

this is also just me being like damn i feel a little left out in autism discussions sometimes because i feel like a lot of conversations revolve around the social obstacles with autism but i have so many social obstacles bc of the physical strangeness i have. idk. that’s not so much something im mad at but it’s like hard to be not autistic so then getting to talk about autism is nice but then it’s like god i’m even weird in autism groups pleaseeee

luckily i have like beautiful wonderful friends and mutuals and people are really nice to me at work but, speaking as if i were diagnosed w level 2 autism by this point, this type of autism literally also kind of ruined my life because i was just really “weird” or “strange”. like that’s the label i got for it as a kid by teachers and peers and my family. and that label has always meant “you don’t go here and you won’t ever go here”. and with the middle ground nature of level 2 autism it’s just kind of a perpetual state im in. i just always feel to wrong for a situation. it’s not at the same level it was when i was a kid but ohhh my god. it as a whole is so frustrating. i love being autistic and i love my special interests and they are so fun to engage with and i am so happy when people listen to me but it’s such an infuriating thing to deal with especially when you have regular meltdowns (and then have to make over them because you are expected to be ‘normal’ at this point). and like. punching head banging stim. and when you are physically can’t talk autism and not cute autism it just feels so hard to do anything ohhhh my god

[steddieas-shegoes]

not so different

for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt ‘graduation’

rated t | 994 words | cw: mention of past character death, mention of alcohol, language | tags: childhood friends, friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, good uncle Wayne Munson

🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦

Steve Harrington didn’t cry, not even when he fell off the slide at the playground and his knee bled for 15 minutes and his nanny had to call his mom.

But this was a special instance where he was allowed to be sad. His nanny even said so. He watched all the kids in his kindergarten class taking pictures with their moms and dads, uncles and aunts, grandpas and grandmas, and wondered why he didn’t have anyone here for him.

He found an empty classroom in the big kid hall as soon as the ceremony was done, sat behind the teacher’s desk, and cried into his knees.

“Did your daddy not show up either?” A voice asked from in front of him.

He lifted his head, vision blurry and face wet, to see Eddie.

Eddie had already done kindergarten once, but he had trouble with his phonics, so they kept him behind. He was the first kid to talk to Steve in class, but within a few days, Tommy and Carol and Heather had scared him away from Steve entirely.

“Um, no.”

“What about your mama?”

“She’s with my dad.”

“My mama is with God. Or that’s what a lot of people say. I dunno if she was friends with him or not, though. I think she just got buried in the ground and people are scared to tell me,” Eddie was sitting next to Steve now, his leg knocking against Steve’s.

Eddie didn’t sit still very well, and the teacher always said he had ants in his pants. Steve hoped he didn’t have them in there now; he didn’t want any ants on him.

“Where’s your dad?”

“He’s probably getting ‘rested again. He showed up being silly and my Uncle Wayne had to take him outside,” Eddie shrugged.

“Is he tired?” Steve asked, sniffling and leaning more against Eddie.

“No. Uncle Wayne says sometimes he has too much of the drinks in the bottles I’m not allowed to touch and it makes him act like he don’t got a brain,” Eddie didn’t sound that sad, but Steve still wanted to hug him. “So your daddy isn’t here?”

“No. I think he forgot.”

“Sorry he forgot. My Uncle Wayne never forgets. He even came to the lunch room for my birthday. He brought me a piece of pizza!” Eddie always sounded more excited than anyone else. Most of the kids in the class thought it was stupid, but Steve kind of liked the way his eyes got wide and his smile got so big it took up most of his face. “Maybe he can bring you a piece for your birthday next year.”

“He doesn’t even know me.”

“You can come meet him!”

The classroom door opened just as Eddie started to stand and reach for Steve’s hands to pull him up.

“There ya are, Ed! Been lookin’ everywhere. You want some ice cream?” An older man stood by the door, button up plaid shirt only half-tucked into his jeans.

“Can we bring Steve? He’s my friend.”

Steve’s head turned, shocked that Eddie would say that.

“We gotta ask his parents first, Ed.”

“His parents didn’t come.”

“Oh.” The man looked Steve up and down before seemingly settling on something. He gave a small smile and gestured for him to come closer. “What’s your favorite flavor, then?”

“I dunno. Never had anything except vanilla,” Steve admitted, afraid to look at the man who had to be Eddie’s Uncle Wayne.

“Well, that just won’t do, will it? Let’s go try every flavor at the diner. Benny just added a few new ones. Think there’s even a bubblegum one.”

Eddie clapped his hands and dragged Steve out the door by his arm.

“I bet you’ll like mint chip,” he said as Wayne followed behind them, fond smile on his face.

🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦

Steve Harrington had only cried a few times in his life, but this was the second time it was happening in front of Eddie.

Eddie wasn’t conscious this time, though.

“If you wake up, I’ll take you to the diner and we can have ice cream. They’ve got a new raspberry white chocolate flavor that you’d like. I could use some mint chip right now,” Steve said around the tears.

Wayne had left the hospital an hour ago to freshen up and grab one of his crossword puzzle books. Steve had been crying for most of that hour, holding Eddie’s hand and quietly begging him to wake up.

Two days without hearing his voice or watching his smile light up the room was too long, especially after having it for the last 13 years.

“How’re you gonna walk at graduation if you’re still asleep here, huh?” Steve closed his eyes and wiped at his cheeks.

“You can walk with me.”

Steve’s head shot up at Eddie’s quiet, but surprisingly strong voice.

“Eddie!”

“Hey, Stevie. Heard you’re takin’ me for ice cream,” Eddie’s smile was crooked, the bandage on his cheek covering one of his dimples.

It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except for Eddie being awake, being alive, being okay.

“Yeah, Eds. Every day if you want,” Steve wanted to crawl into the bed with him, hold him close and feel him breathing and listen to his heartbeat, be sure he was there.

“Gonna hold you to that.”

“Soon as you can leave, that’ll be our first stop. Promise.”

Eddie closed his eyes, but the smile remained on his face. “You slept?”

“A bit.”

“So no.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “A bit.”

“C’mere.”

“Honey, you’re hurt-“

“Come here.”

Steve got in bed slowly, making sure he kept space between himself and Eddie’s injuries.

“Think I’ll graduate?”

Steve snorted. “They’d be stupid to hold you back after you saved everyone.”

“Yeah. ‘M a hero. Fuck Hawkins High.”

Steve could feel more tears trickle down his cheeks, but these were different.

These were relieved tears, happy tears.

“Yeah, honey. Fuck them.”

“Love you, though.”

“Love you so much.”

[snowe-zolynn-rogers]

Pairings: None

Word Count: 1,702 Words

Summary: Training and Todoroki siblings.

Warnings: Abuse Mention, Death Mention, let me know if I should tag anything else.

Notes: Touya’s clothes include links to what they look like.

Hair Dye Buddies: Chapter 5

"Where are we headed? The teacher dorms?" Touya asked.

"They're right over there." Shoto told him, showing him the building inside the gates. "But we're not going there. Mr. Yamada is over in the 1-C dorms right now, talking to Shinsou, another friend of mine through Midoriya, I guess. We're gonna go bother him and ask if you can train."

Shoto led Touya along after him into the 1-C dorms and was instantly greeted with exclamations of a new student from about half the populous. Touya was happy he still had a mask on his wrist because he heard someone coughing. He quickly put it on his face as he hid behind Shoto.

"No, this is my brother. Where's Present Mic? Still in Shinsou's room or down here?" Shoto asked the tall one with the big chin.

"Mr. Yamada is up in that weirdo's room. Is your brother even allowed on campus?"

Shoto brushed past him, taking Touya's wrist in hand and pulling him along to stay closeby so he wouldn't get bothered by the Gen Ed students who had bombarded them at the door. Touya got led up to the fifth floor and the fourth room on the boy's side before Shoto knocked on the door.

"S'up, little listeners?" Present Mic asked as he opened the door to reveal who Touya was assuming was Shinsou sitting on the bed looking rather tired.

"Is this a bad time?" Shoto asked.

"Not at all, me and Shinsou here were just talking about something but we were just finishing up since Shinsou needs to get his sleep in." Mr. Yamada told them. He was loud and energetic and bubbly, Touya was reminded of Fuyumi.

"Mr. Aizawa said we'd need someone to watch over Touya if he were to train his quirk. and Mr. Aizawa feel asleep in the 1-A commons. I'm sure that Sero's put whipped cream in his hand by now. But Touya needs a teacher to watch him and you're the only one who I knew where you were." Shoto told him.

"Alright, I'll be there just gimme a few minutes, little listeners!" Present Mic beamed and closed the door over. The pseudo-twins stood down the hall by the stairs and waited about ten minutes for Shinsou and him to finish up and hopefully Shinsou was falling or already asleep. He'd looked like he'd need it.

Shoto led Touya back through the students downstairs but this time, Mr. Yamada was leading them through. They began the twenty minute trek to Gym Gamma and they began there.

"Alright, kid, show us what you've got." The teacher told him and he unleashed a blizzard in the building they were in, icing the walls and floor with its intensity before he stopped it of his own will, something he'd never have achieved with his old fire. "That's a mighty strong blizzard you got there, kiddo." Yamada told him.

"Thanks." Touya mumbled.

"Do you have any special moves yet? Yamada asked.

"No, but I guess I could work on it?" And thus began trying for hours until he came up with a concentrated stream of snow flurries being like a firework, his snow acting as a smokescreen, and he learned how to create instant-made snowballs.

"You did great, little listener! I'm proud of you!" Yamada exclaimed.

"Thank you." He mumbled as Shoto and him went back to the dorms and Mr. Yamada

"Do you wanna take a shower, Touya?" Shoto asked.

"Sure."

"If you didn't pick up anything for yourself, I have some soaps in there. Most are for dry skin, but that's probably a plus with how much your fire used to give you burns. The whole towel closet is communal so you don't need to worry about grabbing the wrong one." Shoto told him as they got into the dorms.

"Yeah, thanks, Sho." Touya smiled.

"The twins are bonding!" Yaoyorozu looked pleased.

"Hi, Momo." Shoto greeted them.

"Hi, Momo." Touya parroted.

"Did you have fun training, Touya?" She asked.

"Yeah, I came up with a few things I can do besides just making a blizzard. It feels like this quirk was actually made for me." He proudly announced.

"That's great, Touya. I'm happy you're advancing quickly!" Momo bubbled with energy and smiles. Touya smiled back a bit, her energy was unmatchable, though.

"Hey there, Touya." Came Aizawa from the living room.

"Hi, Mr. Aizawa." He muttered.

"Us teachers had a meeting about the permanence of your deaging and Nezu has your adoption papers going through tonight on a UA direct order. All you need to do is sign them since you're technically a legal age and you'll legally be my son come tomorrow morning." Aizawa handed him a paper on a board.

"Okay." Touya read it over briefly before he signed on the line for his name to be.

"Congratulations, you're my son as of dawn tomorrow. Welcome to the family, we have more cats than humans." Aizawa told him, patting his head and Touya thought he'd get hit for a split second and jolted a the touch.

"Sorry." He muttered. "Didn't mean to react like that."

"You can't help engrained habits and I don't get offended by old habits. They die hard, I get it." Aizawa told him. "Alright, get a shower, you trained with Hizashi, I heard."

Flopping on his bed after his shower felt like heaven. Touya wasn't sure that wasn't what this was, actually. No Endeavor, no abuse, he had his brother, friends, a new parent even. He felt like he was home as he fell asleep in the cloud of a bed, cuddling a pillow close.

He heard but didn't react when Midoriya and Bakugou had their inevitable argument or Aizawa screaming at them to both shut up. He was actually kind of happy to have been deaged. Whatever life he had, he didn't care what it was, couldn't have been better than this new second chance at life.

The next morning was a weekend. Naturally, Aizawa invited Fuyumi and Natsuo over to speak on the matter of Touya's deaging. As soon as Natsuo walked into the meeting room and saw Touya, he was bawling and Fuyumi gasped and stood still. Shoto had to lead her in all the way to close the door.

"Touya, you're alive." Fuyumi whispered.

"Hi, guys." He awkwardly greeted them.

"As you can see we have some serious business to discuss. Please, sit." Aizawa told them. Both older siblings sat down in the chairs around the table.

"How is he alive!?" Natsuo asked loudly, causing the other three siblings to jump.

"Touya was found by Kirishima here the night before last." Aizawa gestured to Kirishima sitting next to him. "Touya has been permanently deaged five years for the last month. And his quirk was changed by the man Kirishima found harassing him outside a convenience store." Aizawa told them.

"He was on the streets two weeks and that man, Matsuda Ryuu, housed him for two weeks after." Aizawa told them. "Touya was temporarily enrolled into UA's hero course so I could keep an eye on him, however his enrollment will be come permanent if that's what he wants. I've legally adopted him since he's stated, at this age, your father threw him out onto the streets to begin with."

"Touya is staying in the 1-A dorms and I trust neither of you will have trouble not telling your father of this development until we figure out how to handle the situation of your father possibly trying to take custody back." Aizawa looked at Natsuo and Fuyumi expectantly.

"Of course not!" Fuyumi exclaimed.

"I don't speak to that piece of shit." Natsuo told him.

"I'll likely tell him once I establish full custody and fully move him into both my house and the dorms. Get him set up, establish communication lines to me and my partner, Hizashi." Aizawa told them.

"You'll keep him safe?" Was all Fuyumi asked.

"Of course. I'm his new parent and guardian, of course I'll keep him safe."

"Alright. Then, I don't see a problem." Natsuo told Aizawa and he looked over Shoto and Touya. "You know, I always thought you two looked like twins." Natsuo told them abruptly.

"Alright, if everyone's good with this, you two have full admission to the campus for the day so you can spend time with Touya and Shoto. Touya has yet to set up anything in his room, so hopefully you two can help him with that." Aizawa told them.

And, with that, the four siblings were off to the dorms and ended up in Touya's room, Natsuo laughing when he saw the clothing Touya had.

"You're still our emo brother, Touya, good to know." Natsuo smiled brightly.

"Yeah. Kirishima's friends took me out for that." Kirishima slung his arm around Touya's shoulders.

"Yeah, his style's a lot like Bakugou so a lot of that stuff is things we picked out for him." Kirishima told them. "This shirt is actually one Kaminari, our local pikachu, picked out for him. Speaking of, I should probably stop him from trying to get his toast out with a fork for the fifth time this week." Touya let them look at the black shirt with chains he was wearing as Kirishima saw himself out.

"I'm glad to see you never changed." Fuyumi beamed.

"I never aged, guys, of course I didn't change. I'm an angsty teenager in the prime of my quarter-life crisis." Touya reminded them.

"You know what I mean." Fuyumi smiled brightly as she hugged him close, she was sniffling? Was she crying? Touya tried to look up but his head was buried in her neck in a way he could barely move it. "I missed you so much." She whispered.

"I mean, I missed you guys too, for the month I remember at least." Touya admitted.

"We thought you died, Touya." Natsuo joined Fuyumi. Shoto awkwardly hugged him as well.

"You three will make me cry and then Mina will be mad about my makeup getting messed up again." Touya let his siblings tackle him into a cuddle pile on the bed. He felt safe having people, his siblings no less, holding him so close.

Taglist: @lgbtforeverything @rin-tanaka @everythingisstardust

[meta-squash]

Your ADHD procrastination post has really stroke a nerve with me. I've had the same issue for years, but thought it's normal for everyone. Since about a year or so, I've been wondering if I may have an undiagnosed ADHD along diagnosed conditions. If it's not too personal, how else ADHD manifests in you? I hope it's okay to ask. I love hearing women's stories about ADHD because they are much different than the stereotypical image of it...

It’s not too personal! (FYI I go by they/them pronouns, but I am afab; it’s all good though!) Also, this got VERY long, I’m sorry! I’m verbose and have a lot to say, apparently.

So I personally have a weird relationship with ADHD. I was diagnosed with it (or some sort of attention deficit thing) when I was in like 3rd or 4th grade. I was briefly medicated but I think I was on Ritalin (I forget) and my child body couldn’t handle it; I was a zombie during the day and then when it wore off at night I was Evil and freaked out and wanted to fight everything. So I went off it pretty quick and didn’t get medicated after, presumably because my parents thought my ADHD wasn’t bad enough.

The reason they probably thought that is because my brother has Really Bad ADHD. Like, all the classic stereotypical symptoms and characteristics to the extreme: never shuts the fuck up, really damn loud all the time, extremely high energy, can learn pretty much anything in about 5 seconds but can’t actually hang on to an interest really (now that he’s an adult he can, but not as a kid), can’t sit still or pay attention in class, doesn’t finish homework, etc etc. I was able to mask mine and function enough to get through school just riding pretty much on my humanities grades alone. It sucked a lot but I somehow did it. I had an IEP (Individual Education Plan, which is a US school thing for kids with learning disabilities and such that allows for accommodations and assistance in school) but it didn’t do much except I think give me extra time on math tests because of my dyscalculia (I was in Special Ed Math my whole grade school career). My mother is an OT but I also think that (as you said) ADHD in afab people often manifests differently than in amab people, so I guess my parents just didn’t know what to look for and that’s why I never really got the same help as my brother.

I like to jokingly categorize ADHD into two distinct but overlapping types: Fast ADHD and Mush Brain ADHD. Fast ADHD (in my opinion; this may vary from person to person) is the classic stereotype symptoms. Fast ADHD’s focus problem is too much happening all at once. Lots of thoughts and ideas flying by and you get distracted mid-thought with another thought, or your train of thought gets really crazy but is super fast so your reply to someone’s comment might not make much sense to anyone else because they weren’t privy to your brain’s journey, or you go down a focus worm-hole and sit and do One Thing all day and forget to surface for things like food/water/bathroom. Fast ADHD has more energy (though when paired with depression that usually manifests as restlessness or anxiety) and is quicker to pick up new things. Mush Brain ADHD is kind of the opposite. Thoughts take longer, or you think of something and then it almost immediately disappears (for example, scrolling a website, seeing something that you want to google, you scroll for like 5 more seconds and think “wait, I completely forget what I was going to look up”). With Mush Brain ADHD it’s harder to have conversations because thought-to-mouth time is slower, rather than (with Fast Brain) lots of stuff is going on up there. Mush Brain often feels like, well, mush and like you can’t really form thoughts very well if you want to do stuff. It’s like you’re trying to focus on thinking a thought but it just slides away. Another way I’d describe it is having thoughts but it’s like they’re on a blackboard and they’re being erased as you think them, so they end up mostly smears. Obviously, this is just based on my own experiences as a Mush Brain ADHD person while my brother has Fast Brain ADHD, so this might be different for other people.

Both have lots of overlaps: executive dysfunction (that’s the big one), insomnia, auditory processing problems, hyperfixation (which is not a bad thing! I love my hyperfixations! They’re fun!), absolutely crap organizational skills, constantly losing things, really bad perception of time, detachment from the world (like you drift off into your own daydream, or things feel distant, but not quite the same as depersonalization/dissociating),  difficulty making choices, sensory processing disorder, crap abilities with money, rejection sensitive dysphoria, and often comorbid mental illnesses like depression, OCD, anxiety, dyscalculia/dyslexia, etc.

 Oh, and a lot of ADHD characteristics also overlap with depression characteristics (and a lot of people with ADHD have comorbid depression, so it really doesn’t help).

But I can tell you about my own experiences with some of these.

The Big One which is basically what that schrodingers motivation post is about, is executive dysfunction. People also call it procrastination (it only kind of is) or inertia. Basically, executive dysfunction is where the difficulty lies in starting the task. You want to do something, but you just can’t get going to do it. You get sort of paralyzed. It even happens with things you like. For example, when I made that post, there was a short (just over 100 pgs) book I wanted to read before the end of the day. It’s a good book! It’s on my reading list! I want to read it! But I just sat on my computer and watched dumb youtube videos because that’s what I was already doing and executive dysfunction makes starting tasks really hard. This happens to me a lot. It can happen with reading a book, or getting up to go to the store and buy groceries, or making a meal, or watching a movie. The movie-watching one happens to me a lot. Basically it’s the brain struggling to switch tasks; you’re scrolling tumblr, and that’s what your brain is focused on, and it doesn’t know how to switch from doing that to doing your bio homework or folding the laundry or whatever the task may be. This happens with “bigger” or more complex tasks too, like starting an art project or starting a new book, because your brain has to figure out all the components of that task (I need these items for my project and this amount of time and I need to use them in this order) which is overwhelming, or it needs to comprehend how “big” the task is (how much time/concentration should I try and commit to in order to read this book) which is sometimes hard to gauge. Oh, also this can happen if you’re interrupted in the middle of a task, whether it’s to do another thing or just to answer a question or something; it’s hard to get back to it because it’s another kind of switching tasks. Aside from the blackboard-being-wiped-thoughts, this is my biggest ADHD problem. I can go more into how I dealt with executive dysfunction in college and now if you want!

Auditory processing issues is another thing that I deal with, although to a lesser extent than some people. It just means it’s harder for your brain to process sounds/talking. Part of this, for me, is because if someone is talking to me but there’s other noises (music, other conversations, general loudish ambiance) going on around us, my brain treats them all as equally important and I can’t focus in on the person talking. Another part for me is in my experience I seem to process conversation different from explanation. If I’m talking back and forth with someone about something and it’s not terribly important, I’m fine. If they’re trying to explain something to me, give me instructions, or read a passage of text to me, it just does not stick in my brain. If I’m helping my best friend with her grad school applications, I have to read the sentence she’s asking me check, I can’t have her read it to me. If she does read it to me, I’ve realized that I try to imagine the words as text in my head so I comprehend it better (it doesn’t always work). Auditory processing issues means that a lot of my conversations in public with people who are not my close friends (and therefore easier to pick out from the noise because familiar and/or easier to predict because familiar) are filled with a lot of me going “what?” Retail conversations with customers are slightly easier because there’s at least a mild “script” that they’ll stick to, usually.

Another one I experience is organizational problems. This one was bad enough that I actually went to a tutor-like thing to help me with it for most of grade school. Basically, I had no ability to organize tasks like doing homework or other activities, so things would get forgotten/lost/never even written in the calendar/etc. I couldn’t do projects because I couldn’t (and still kinda can’t) organize far enough into the future. I didn’t know how to break the project down across multiple days or weeks and make it manageable without totally forgetting pieces of it. I’d forget to write down homework when the teacher wrote it on the board, or I’d write it down but forget to do it. Or I’d do it but misplace it or leave it at home. My perception of time was also really crap; I couldn’t read an analogue clock until I was in maybe 6th grade? Even now I sometimes have trouble. It was hard to know how much time I had to allot to certain projects because I didn’t really have good perception of how hours fit in the day and how much time until homework is due and stuff. (Which meant lots of finishing things in class minutes before I had to turn it in and stuff. Once in uni I completely forgot to do an Entire Essay; luckily it wasn’t a class I needed to graduate.)

Along with this is losing EVERYTHING. I misplace things CONSTANTLY. I’ll put something that’s in my hand down to get a cup of tea or something, or even just to like, move a blanket, and I’ll forget where I put it. I’ve solved this problem with Important Things (wallet, phone, and keys always go next to my bed, for example, and rarely move from there if they’re not in my pocket. All important papers go in my Important Papers Folder as soon as soon as possible) but I lose regular stuff all the time. I’ll be working on an art project, I’ll put my glue stick down to reach for a piece of paper, and lose the glue stick in the time it takes to pull the paper towards me. The other day I was brushing my teeth and I put the toothbrush cover down to say hello to the cat and forgot where I had put it down once I had followed her to the next room. When things have a Place it’s easier, but I’ve learned to live with going “Where the FUCK did I put this thing? I had it a second ago!” at least once a day.

The “Mush” in “Mush Brain” is another big one for me. I don’t know if this has, like, a name? Or anything? It’s just what I call it. The best description for it would either be that blackboard description from above, or like you’re struggling to get to a thought through a lot of mud. Oftentimes I’ll have a sort of concept of a thought but not something full, and I know it’s there, but I can’t get to it. This is really apparent when I’m trying to remember a synonym for something, or trying to elaborate on certain concepts or pull ideas from texts. It doesn’t happen all the time. I was an English lit major in uni, so this affected me a lot back then. It’s sort of a similar feeling to reading the same sentence over and over and not registering the words, except it’s in your own brain instead. This kind of goes away for me when I’m writing/typing. Writing this out is easy (minus me forgetting the word executive dysfunction for like 5 minutes) but if you were asking me to explain this aloud I would struggle, probably. This is probably because I can stare at what I’ve written to see what’s missing or edit my thoughts, which I can’t do while I’m speaking, and also can’t do to other people’s interactions with me.

Just a general inability to focus is also one I struggle with. It goes with the “mush brain” to an extent but I think it’s different. It’s more like my brain doesn’t want to, well, focus on anything. If I’m just messing around on my laptop, that means I end up clicking back and forth between tabs endlessly because nothing is holding my interest. If I’m trying to read or do anything “intellectual” or “academic” it means I just can’t get myself to read or I can’t keep my thoughts on what I’m trying to write no matter how hard I try. Nothing holds my interest for long enough, it’s like brain restlessness. I try and concentrate on doing something, watching something, reading something, and my brain just slides away from it.

Rejection sensitive dysphoria is something I experience on a more minor level. It’s something that also overlaps with anxiety and depression. Basically, it’s a really intense emotional reaction to (perceived) rejection. For example, if my best friend says something to me with a certain tone or gets mad at me for doing something minor, my brain just goes “She hates you! She doesn’t want to be friends with you! You should isolate in your room and never speak to anyone again because you’re so annoying and terrible!” I know that’s mostly incorrect (although I also know I’m quite annoying and that’s another ADHD characteristic; knowing you’re annoying someone in some way and having no idea how to stop) so I can fight it but sometimes I do end up holing up in my room for a little bit. Things like criticism (whether towards you or towards, like, an essay or something) can also trigger this reaction. So can things like having an expectation that you’ll be good at something, and then failing at it or just not being as good as you’d hoped. (I developed a sort of defense mechanism for this one of never expecting to be good at things and never expect higher than a C in a class.) It also can come with a sense of feeling inferior around people doing similar things. It happens to me a lot here on tumblr, actually, because I’ll write a meta about something, and then read someone else’s good meta on the same thing, and feel like I’m an idiot and they’re really smart and nothing that I wrote was insightful or good. It happened to me in uni a lot too. It also happens to me kind of...secondhand, now. What I mean is, my best friend/roommate is extremely smart. Like genuinely one of the smartest people I know and an incredible thinker, straight A’s at uni in a degree she created, etc. She still gets imposter syndrome herself and feels like she’s not smart, and when she says she’s not smart, I feel bad for her but I also feel really terrible about myself, because if she thinks she’s stupid, then what am I? But again, it’s an overreaction to perceived rejection. It still sucks though.

There’s some evidence that ADHD comes with a whacked out sleep schedule. And not just insomnia (although that too, I know this because it’s 7am and I haven’t slept yet lol), but also Delayed Sleep Phase Disorder. Which basically means that most people’s circadian rhythms start slowing down so they’ll go to sleep around like 11pm-1am-ish, give or take. ADHD circadian rhythms are shifted so often we start getting tired around 3am or even 4 or 5am. (This is different from insomnia, btw, with DSPD you can fall asleep fairly easily, you just get tired later in the night; with insomnia it’s an inability to or difficulty in falling asleep quickly.) I always thought I’d just gotten my dad’s night owl genes, but it’s more likely that it’s the ADHD. I also have at least mild insomnia and it takes me a million years to fall asleep a lot of the time.

Hyperfixations are the Fun part of having ADHD (in my opinion). They can get in the way sometimes but they’re also really comforting and nice. Hyperfixations happen when you find an interest and it’s basically all you want to think or talk about, and you relate to the world through it, and you want to learn everything about it. It’s also a characteristic of autism. I’m not autistic, so I don’t know if there are major differences between ADHD hyperfixation experiences and autism ones. Anyway, often hyperfixations stick with you for a good amount of time, depending on the strength, and then you might find something else to focus on. Some of my hyperfixations have lasted a few months, some up to 4 years. A lot of ADHD people rotate through the same or similar ones. For example, a hyperfixation I had back in 2011-2014/15ish was Les Miserables. I then found a different thing to hyperfixate on. This past year I have returned to Les Mis. Hyperfixations are usually pretty cool, because it’s usually something you really like and enjoy learning about or doing and it’s kind of like the thing your brain would rather be doing/focusing on.

Personally, I’ve lived so long without ADHD medication that I’m fairly functional without it just due to coming up with personal adaptations and stuff. The thing that I have the hardest time with/that upsets me the most is the Mush Brain part, which also gets worse when my depression gets worse. I really would love to have clear, quick thoughts whenever I want. It’s frustrating to hold a conversation or try to write creatively and quickly when it takes forever for thoughts to fully crystallize in my brain and then come out my mouth or fingers. Right now I don’t have very good health insurance (all blame to covid layoffs) so I can’t really do the meds thing but I often wish I could. My ADHD is definitely not as intense or severe as some people’s. I have friends, and also my brother, who struggle a lot more than I do, and with different things

Holy hell this was so long. Feel free to message me if you have any questions! Or if you want me to elaborate on some of the things I do to deal with stuff.

[conman167936]

When I was in high school, I was told that I had an anger management problem. Looking back, I’m not so sure if that was true.

You see, I have asperger’s syndrome, and as a teenager, this really held me back. I would have a minor freakout every time the schedule changed, and even though the ‘special needs’ program I was a part of claimed to cater to kids like me, it was pretty clear that the teachers and counselors didn’t like or understand me.

Whenever a counselor tried to talk to me about anger management, they talked like they’ve never experienced anger in their lives. They told me to just ‘calmly count to ten and breathe’. Nobody wants to do that when they’re angry, especially not teenagers! Not everyone has perfect control of their emotions. You’re a freaking school counselor, you should know this!

Anyway, the program I was a part of was located off-campus. Every day, after lunch, I would take the bus to the main school to take an elective. In my last semester of high school, that elective was Driver’s Ed. It’s important to note that for this particular class, our teacher was cramming a lot of stuff into a single semester, and so if a student missed too many classes, they would not receive credit for taking the class, and wouldn’t be able to graduate.

So one day, I was in Driver’s Ed, I got upset about something (I don’t even remember what it was) and I had to leave the classroom. I let out a few words of frustration and punched a vending machine. Then I took a deep breath, ran a few laps around the gym and I was able to return to the class and finish the assignment.

It was actually kind of rare for me to come back to class after having an episode like that, so I remember being genuinely proud of myself. Nobody saw me except the teacher, I didn’t yell, and I still got credit for the day. I felt good.

And then the next day, I went to Driver’s Ed class, and midway through the class I got a note telling me to come to the school counselor’s office immediately. Not after class. Now. I assumed this had to be something really important.

I went down to the counselor’s office and sat in the waiting area for about ten minutes. When he finally called me in, he sat me down in a very serious manner and said he wanted to talk about the ‘incident’ yesterday. I wasn’t really sure what he was talking about, because I thought the previous day had been a success. He didn’t agree. 

Out of everything that had happened yesterday, he seemed to be laser-focussed on one particular detail that I had almost forgotten about - I had punched a vending machine.

At first, I thought he was joking. But he wasn’t. He had brought me to the counsellor’s office, taking me out of the one class I couldn’t afford to miss, to tell me off for punching a vending machine. From the tone in his voice, you would think that I had punched a fellow student. That’s how seriously he was taking this.

When I had punched it, the teacher who saw me hadn’t remarked on it at all, they only told me that maybe I needed to take a breather. Which is exactly what I did. Hell, the fact that I punched it allowed me to take out a good chunk of my frustration in one fell swoop, and most likely resulted in me being able to return to that class in the first place.

And one more thing - I was not buff. I was the least threatening high school kid you could imagine. I can assure you that the vending machine did not have a dent in it after I punched it. But the counselor seemed to think I was always about to hurt everyone around me. (Side note, the multiple times I flat out told my counselors that I wanted to hurt myself, they were always quick to shrug it off with a ‘you don’t really mean that.’)

After a good while of arguing about this ‘vending machine incident’ with the counselor, the class (and school day as a whole) was over. I had missed my credit in Driver’s Ed for the day. Also, my mom was here to pick me up. I texted her to come in and join the conversation, which she did. And to the counsellor’s surprise, my mom agreed with me that this whole thing was really stupid.

At that time, I was close to the end of my senior year, and my mom and I agreed that we were basically done with this school. I started attending less and less classes, just doing the bare minimum to make sure I graduated. When I ultimately enrolled in film school, my poor grades in high school never came back to bite me, because high school does not fucking matter. 

And I do not have anger issues anymore. Partially because I’ve grown up and my aspergers is a lot more under control, but also because I’m no longer in an environment that is constantly making me angry.

If anyone reading this is on the autistic spectrum and was treated unfairly in high school, let me know. I have faith that I am not alone in these experiences.

[durandtm]

TIMOTHEE CHALOMET, 19, NONBINARY, HE/HIM ⌡ welcome back to gallagher academy, CAMPBELL “CAMP” DURAND! according to their records, they’re a SECOND YEAR, specializing in ADVANCED ENCRYPTION and DRIVER’S ED; and they DID NOT go to a spy prep high school. when i see them walking around in the halls, i usually see a flash of (dark circles under eyes, the scent of eucalyptus, running late, looking disinterested or confused, constantly writing). when it’s the (aquarius)’s birthday on FEBRUARY 18, they always request FRIED PICKLES from the school’s chefs. looks like they’re well on their way to graduation. ⌿ kara, 26, she/her, pst ⍀

HIS STORY.

+ Home is on the southwestern side of France where the scenery consisted of salt farms and old windmills. Many of the village's buildings were whitewashed, and some, even the farmhouses, had ornamental towers reminiscent of the 16th century. Their town of Ars-en-Ré was a commune on the Île de Ré in the Charente-Maritime. Whitewashed buildings there would often accent their buildings with grayish blues and whatever flowers they could grow. + Campbell Durand lived with his mother, Camila, and father, Hal, in a quaint guesthouse belonging to a fish and lobster farmer. + Boats went in and out of the harbor all day via a long channel between the marshes, and that was where you could find Hal from dusk to dawn. + A distinct feature of the town was its strange black and white church steeple. It had been a useful mariner's way-finder for centuries. Camila Durand would often go out to the steeple. She enjoyed the quiet walk over, the feel of the water’s breeze against her skin, and proudly overlooked her boys at work. Campbell would wave violently toward her, smile brightening his face, stomach rumbling for dinner, as she silently guided them home. + If Campbell was not in school, he was in and out of the harbor with his father. He would do at least one run in the morning before school and two after. On days with higher run expectancies or days when men would not show up due to poor weather conditions, Campbell would miss school, much to his and his mother’s dismay, to work with his father. + “Camp,” he began to be called. It was easier to shout one syllable than two over the deafening sound of the waters and men working. + The boy’s scent was slightly fishy, mixed with saltwater and sweat. Regardless of whether or not his peers’ families were in the same industries or higher middle class, this was unique to him and often kept him from experiencing close friendships.   + Once a year at most, Camila Durand went into the city. The trip’s purpose was to collect necessities, and despite her desire to take her son, Hal insisted Camp remain in Ars-en-Ré. + When Camila was pregnant with their second child, Camp was finally allowed to accompany his mother to the city to carry things for her. He stopped at a street vendor whose wooden display was covered with beautiful flowers and bottles filled with perfumes and oils. When the smell of eucalyptus grabbed his attention, Camila smiled; eucalyptus grew plentifully in Southern France and was the base note of her everyday perfume, a luxury item she was able to pick out for her wedding. She bought the eucalyptus oil for her son, a secret to be kept from Hal. Camp would use it when he got to school and hoped it wore off by the time he left. + Camp’s hair was a hectic mess of curls. His mother liked to wrap them around her index finger mindlessly, creating a sensitivity and exclusivity around the act. While he had an affinity for it and could often be found with a hand in his hair, he would never let anyone but his mother touch it, remaining true even into young adulthood. + Eventually, Camp’s curls grew long and people would tell his parents that he was such a “pretty girl.”  Camila tucked his long curls behind his ears like she did her own for as long as she could, but eventually, his father’s ego got the best of him. It was like Campbell’s masculinity was meant to be a reflection of his own. If Campbell was not masculine enough, Hal felt it meant he wasn’t masculine enough. + This led to the desire, manipulation, and force-of-hand Hal had in having another son. + Getting pregnant again was a long, hard road for Camila. Her first miscarriage was found out by Campbell climbing into her bed to find a mess of blood. Hal reprimanded Camp for screaming, even though it was the sounding alarm that saved her life at the time. Hal rushed out the door with Camila in his arms, slamming the door shut behind them. Things were never explained to Campbell, leaving him confused. When his mother arrived home safely, he quickly held to the relief and asked no questions. It wasn’t until she began to show, two pregnancies and one miscarriage later, that he found out his parents were still trying. + When it was time for the baby to come, delivery was even more difficult than the act of getting pregnant. The complications took her life. + After his mother had passed, there was nothing tying Campbell and Hal together. He fell into a quiet, depressive state and spent his entire earnings at the harbor on a laptop like the ones all of the kids at school had. + Camp barely tried at school, though he succeeded with flying colors. + When he got home, he would remain tucked away in his room, playing video games, coding, learning and unlearning algorithms, and the like. He often would stay up all night, sleep becoming less and less of a priority as his eyes remained glued to the blue light of his screen. + His father began drinking when he got home. The two sat at the dinner table together. They didn’t talk. If anything was to be said, it was Hal, telling Camp that he would waste his life away on that computer and never make anything of himself. + Camp began hacking. It started out as a result of having beaten all of his video games and having no money to buy more. It became his own sort of game. It started small, the computers of classmates, then teachers, then strangers, then businesses, then local government, then banks, and eventually, secret intelligence branches. + The boy had no ambitions, no goals, no ulterior motive, no end game. He was told that there would be very serious consequences for his actions, but the agency was in America, a country in which he was not legally adult, and he felt untouchable. His 18th birthday wasn’t far so they did with him what they would have done with any juvenile delinquent in his position and offered him a “bright future” that started with Gallagher Academy. The Fall semester would begin in September of 2019, and along with it, would begin Camp’s new life. + He packed his bags, gave his father a reluctant hug, ignoring his proud ramblings of how he would make something of himself after all and that his mother would be so proud, and was on his way. He would wake up and go to sleep missing the quiet safety of the home his mother had once occupied. He would miss the certainty of his father’s mundane routines and joining him for quiet dinners of cabbage and meat stew when he got home.

HIS PERSONALITY.

(insightful, patient, weird, rebelling, lone wolf, great listener, always running late, 1000 moods, needs space)

+ Kaiju films are they’re favorite (Kaiju is a Japenese genre of films featuring giant monsters that are usually attacking major cities) + Also loves Ghostbusters + Always has a movie they want you to watch + Barely sleeps, leaving dark circles permanently under their eyes + Computer is so old it glitches. + Dreams of a car with a neon under-glow, though they don’t know where they’d drive it + Included a major of driver’s ed because they have never driven a car, nor has their family ever owned one, and driving fast sounds cool + Ends up using it as a coping mechanism. some people punch things when they’re mad, others cry, he drives. fast. dangerously. recklessly. but it’s okay because technically they’re studying + Drinks absinthe as a way of remaining close to their father, who they think they’re destined to be regardless of what fancy school invited them to the states and thinks they’re “talented” and “genius” + Listens to Mariana’s Trench in the background of whatever they’re doing + Has tattoo ideas, but no tattoos: UFO, bermuda triangle, third eye, a mask, illuminati symbol + Talks to you for hours about conspiracy theories + Writes poetry + Likes feeling the breeze with their eyes closed (it reminds them of their mother doing the same at the church steeple, looking over them at the harbor) + Keeps a notebook separate from their poetry, meant for deep thoughts, connecting thoughts and ideas, and inspiration + Photoshopped your head on a meme and sent it to you at 3am + Gets heartbroken 30 times a week by falling for people they look at + Has trust issues + Often unmotivated and disinterested + Feels like they have to adapt to every person they meet to be liked, so they’re often silent at first, figuring out how to mold themselves into the kind of person they need to be around you + Labeled themselves as nonbinary as soon as they were no longer under the strict rule of masculinity presented by their father + Wants to use they/them pronouns, but is too scared to ask. Feels like it’s a “burden” to ask people to go through the trouble of being thoughtful. They don’t want people thinking about them at all + Figuring things out takes them a little longer + Only comes out of their shell around people that are gentle and easy-going + They are tolerant and composed to balance their intense energy when it gets to be too much and needs people to do the same + Can not flirt if their life depended on it + Can be social but born a lone wolf + Only clingy when having the time of  their lives with you, trust you with their heart and soul, or realize they can help you drastically with something and wish to focus on their effort to help you + Need people to sense and feel where the lines between “seeming” and “being” blur and that can figure out who the person is behind the anonymous mask + There’s always some kind of mask to see through + Cognitive AF + Come across emotionless because it is hard to allow themselves to be seen as vulnerable by other people + They hide from their own self + Highly selective and self-aware + They find it hard to ask for help + It’s not all fun and laughs + They adore someone who will inspire confidence in them and the courage to be in the moment and embody their own complexities. Someone who takes them seriously enough but will also keep the conversation light and free-flowing. They will only crush their own walls if you literally allow them to go ahead and ask for the help they deserve + They want people who can allow them to escape and be an actual human anchor for their souls + They do not like to be forced when it comes to sharing what is important to them. They will only do that on their own time or not at all + They know the difference between who is a friend vs. who is a best friend vs. who is a mere acquaintance vs. who is a person they view romantically. These lines do not blur or cross + Once on that level, it’s like having a secret language of communication + Harsh with their words. They are not polite because their words happen outside of emotions + How they communicate with others often has nothing to do with how they’re feeling on the inside + Come across as senseless and illogical and absolutely nuts + Likes to say “I told you so” + Get in their head while you’re talking, so they sometimes have to pretend that they understood

[freckled-words]

Repost: Control

Because it is the spooky month! And because it was requested by my lovely blog wife @the-wild-ego​ Edited by @the-wild-ego​ Art done by @goodieghosty​ Inspired by & lyrics from “Control” by Halsey

And all the kids cried out, "Please stop, you're scaring me"

I can't help this awful energy

God damn right, you should be scared of me

Who is in control?

You weren’t normal. You’d known that for as long as you could create memories. 

It had just taken you awhile to realize what made you different from the other kids. 

In your eyes, the world didn’t hold just people, plants, and animals. There were also the “Others”. The creatures that hid under the bed, or made nests in dust piles, or watched from the shadows. 

When you’d tell your grade school classmates about the man with his head split open, three eyes, and teeth that were made of pine needles, they’d cry. They were scared. You were telling them about monsters. If they’d let you finish, they’d know that the Pine Needle Man had only wanted help finding pine cones. 

When you’d write stories about the tiny dust rabbits that lived under your bed, and share it with your English class, your teacher would scold you for writing about fiction. The assignment was supposed to be on the real world. 

As the years went on you stopped sharing with people. You turned to the library, and the internet, learning that you had a gift, or a curse. It was called ‘The Sight’. You could see through the layers that separated humans from the world that overlapped with the mortal plain. 

The house was awake, the shadows and monsters

The hallways, they echoed and groaned

I sat alone, in bed till the morning

I'm crying, "They're coming for me"

Understanding this about yourself did not make things easier for you. Because you stopped sharing what you saw, you didn’t tell people about the Others that would hang around in your classroom. You couldn’t help but acknowledge them, especially when they became agitated with being ignored. You tried to quietly send them off with a growled, “Go away” or “Buzz off!” Except someone else in your class would hear you. Then word would be spread that you were talking to yourself, and yelling at things that weren’t there.

Of course you’d been sent to the Principal’s office a handful of times. 

Each trip your parents had to make to the school was another evening spent being yelled at within the privacy of your house. 

“Why can’t you be like the other children?!”

“An embarrassment to this family!”

It didn’t matter which parent was yelling. They both conveyed the same message.

You were alone. Left to fight off the ghosts, ghouls, and unnamed on your own.

So you did.

Year after year, you faced down the Others. Some learned to leave you alone. Some found you to be their favorite source of entertainment. 

When you’d go downstairs in the mornings, with gashes on your arms, or bruises on your face, your parents assumed you’d snuck out in the night. You’d be grounded for having done nothing other than surviving.

With each year, you withdrew from other people. There was no point in trying to befriend anyone, not when you’d just chase them off with your odd behavior soon after. You got to a point where you only interacted with someone when forced to. You had a particularly strong dislike for partner/group assignments.

By the time you got high school you’d become numb to anything “scary”. Death, in particular, had long since lost it’s fear factor. Some days you had a stray thought that, should you die suddenly, no one would miss you. 

As that thought settled in and repeated itself more often, you learned that the phrase, “Negative draws negative.” was certainly true. 

The Others were, for the most part, small things. Tiny beings that you could push, or shove off you when they began to cling. In your final year of high school you noticed that the smaller ones were being replaced by ones that were bigger and more aggressive. The worst ones were able to speak to you. 

They would hover near you during classes and whisper, ‘Look how high up we are. If you opened that window, and fell, you’d die. Wouldn’t that be great?!’ 

Everything they would say was about you killing yourself. You hated it. You hated them. You wanted them to shut up. More than once you’d had to hastily leave the classroom to use the washroom, an attempt to put distance between yourself and their horrid whispers. 

Home didn’t offer any form of salvation either. Your parents had decided to act as though you didn’t exist, unless you directly spoke to them when you needed something. In response, they’d give you a cold stare and hand you a small bit of money to get what you needed. They weren’t really your parents, they were just the people that legally had to take care of you until your 18th birthday. You wouldn’t be surprised if on that day you found yourself living on the streets. 

And I've grown familiar with villains that live in my head They beg me to write them so I'll never die when I'm dead

The days blended together. Only being broken up when an Other, of particular appearance, caught your attention. 

Half way through the school year, your Phys Ed teacher became fatally ill and had to be replaced. Your classmates were fine with this. Ms. Charts was a drill sergeant and never gave anyone special exceptions. 

“I caught sight of the new teacher. It’s a guy! And he’s hot, with a capital H. I really hope he wears something that shows off his body.”

Although you didn’t interact with your classmates, you still paid attention to what they said. It didn’t hurt to keep informed on things happening. Sometimes bad things that happened to others were your cue to watch for meaner beings they couldn’t see. 

Going into the gym that day you put in the effort to learn about the new teacher. Your eyes went to him, and you froze. 

Your lips parted in a silent gasp. 

For nearly 18 years you’ve seen things that were gruesome, disfigured, and down right haunting. 

Your new gym teacher. Was not human. Nor was he something you’d ever seen before. 

If you squinted you could see the version that everyone else could see. A man in his mid to late twenties. His hair was buzzed on the sides in and clipped short on top, much as a soldier would. He had dark brown eyes, and skin that was naturally tanned in a shade of light copper. You figured he had some Asian ancestry. Standing roughly 5 feet 9 inches his body frame was lean and hinted at a lot of muscle not being displayed. 

Your Sight showed you something entirely different. 

The short hair was grown and pulled back in a low ponytail at the base of his neck. There was a slight glow to his skin that made his copper tone seem golden. His irises were a solid amethyst with black slit pupils. His eyes had a natural dark lining on the bottom rim. As he addressed the class, introducing himself as Mr. Battle, a length of shadows curled around him. When you tilted your head ever so slightly you realized it was a tail! It twitched at the tip, or swayed back and forth. 

Altogether, he seemed to be a humanoid feline? 

“ Y/N? Y/N!”

You startled at your name being called. While you’d been digesting this new discovery, he’d begun doing roll call. You ducked your head with a slight glare as your classmates snickered. His gaze leveled on you, and very briefly his brows furrowed, as though he were puzzling over you.

“Alright, start with laps!” He projected his voice like a military sergeant, making everyone jump and take off for the outer edge of the spacious room. 

As you ran you felt his stare burning into the back of your skull. Anytime you turned to meet his eyes, he managed to look away and watch the rest of the class. 

You didn’t like this, you didn’t like him. 

Throughout the rest of the warm ups, basketball drills and a couple more exercises, you put together a plan. It was a stupid plan, and it would put yourself at risk, but you didn’t care. At least you’d die from something more interesting than a blob with teeth and eyes.

Your Phys Ed class was right before the lunch break, meaning he wouldn’t have another class to follow. If you got lucky, you could confront him here in the GYM without anyone seeing. The last thing you wanted was an audience to mock you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Changed back into your regular clothes, you’d hung back in the change room, waiting for everyone to leave. 

The bell for lunch period rang and you listened to your classmates dash out of the GYM. You gave it a minute or two before venturing out.

Just as you’d hoped, Mr. Battle was the last remaining person. What you didn’t count on was for him to be clearly waiting for you.

Those slit pupiled eyes rested on you, his arms were crossed and his posture reminded you of a cat resting casually, ready to spring at any second.

“I was wondering what had this place crawling with creepy crawlies. I got my answer pretty quick.” The military sergeant tone was gone, in its place, a more natural rumble. 

That wasn’t what you thought he was going to say. Thrown off, you quipped, “Look who’s talking.”

The layer around his form, that portrayed a normal human vanished, leaving you with a clear, unblurred view of himself. “You’re not very smart. You have the Sight, not the Gift. Don’t get cocky brat.”

The tail, that had been made of shadows before, was a true solid black tail now. The end of it flicked back and forth, another sign of irritated. 

You clenched your fists within your hoodie pockets, “I’m smart enough to know you can’t kill me, not if you want to keep up appearances as a teacher.”

His upper lip raised a little, allowing you to get a glimpse of a sharp canine, “I’m not here by choice. Your school has been drawing more and more Nega Dwellers and they’ve started spilling onto my territory. Once I deal with this mess, I’m handing in my resignation.”

His arms fell to his sides, he flexed his fingers and his natural nails lengthened into gold tipped claws. 

Your feet shuffled back, startled, a spike of fear breaking through your false bravado. Was he really going to kill you?! 

“Y-You can’t kill me, they’ll immediately suspect you.” There was a quiver in your voice. 

Why now? For these past few years you’d told yourself that death could come, and the world would be the better for it. Now here was death, ready to shred you apart, and you didn’t want to die.

Your fear increased as his lips drew back, showing more teeth in a feral grin, “Don’t worry kid, you’re not gonna feel a thing.” He crouched low, his body tensing and ready to spring.

The glow around him expanded into a bright light, blinding you. Covering your eyes, you heard his shoes squeak as he sprung forward. “PLEASE DON’T!”

There was a rush of air, you felt it blast past you, there was a series of squalls and pitched squeals. Lowering your hands you hesitated to look.

Standing just next to you, Mr. Battle held a squirming black thing. You paled seeing that it was roughly the same size and shape as you. A mouth with rows of teeth gnashed together as it thrashed around. 

“Good job kid, if you hadn’t snapped out of it, you would have made me a liar.” His slitted pupils slid back to you, “If you didn’t find the will to live, you would be feeling your own throat being crushed right now.” 

His clawed fingers squeezed and the creature squealed louder. The thing tried looping parts of its goopy body around his arm, to make him let go. 

You stepped further back, a hand covering your mouth as you shuddered, “What… What is that?”

“This nasty thing is called a Life Leech. This is the biggest I’ve seen in a few years. Usually when they get this big, the person they’re possessing commits suicide.” His tail swayed widely back and forth, his smile wide and pleased. 

“How did I not see it?!” How long had that thing been feeding off you? Was it when you started having those thoughts? Thinking that death would be fine, thinking that no one would miss you if you killed yourself. Although you were distant from your parents, you knew they would be upset with your passing. Years ago, you promised yourself to move somewhere quiet, away from the darkness and the coldness of your family. When had that changed to giving up? To just craving death and an end to it all?

Mr. Battle held out a hand and a golden blade appeared. You could see Egyptian hieroglyphs carved into the steel of the blade, the end of the hilt was shaped into a lion’s head. He thrust the blade up and under the Leech’s chin. It died instantly as black, bubbling liquid spewed from the wound and it’s mouth. He released its body and wiped the blood off his blade on the side of his pants. 

The blade vanished and Mr. Battle seemed to become an entirely different person as he yawned. His posture slouched and his tail lowered to give the odd little sway, “You can see some shit kid, but not everything. You’re welcome by the way.”

You were still reeling from the thing being revealed to you, and the impact it had had on your life. 

Seeming to pick up on that Mr. Battle strolled off towards the exit, “See ya, kid.”

He was just about to push the door open when you managed to pull some of yourself back together, “W-Wait! Who are you?!”

Looking back over his shoulder he reprimanded, “Not that you’ll see me again, but it’s Mihos.”

Then he was gone. 

Somehow you got yourself to continue through the rest of the day, and it all seemed surreal as everything seemed to be less daunting. 

When you made eye contact with your classmates, they didn’t flinch or return it with scorn. A girl even gave you a small smile back. 

The Others that had plagued you with suggestions of killing yourself were gone. So, too, were the ones that had seemed like permanent fixtures in the corners of the classrooms and in the hallways. Had you been the one drawing them all here? That Life Leech had been stirring up so much negative energy in you, it had been a homing beacon for the worst of them. 

New ones began to show, smaller, and surprisingly timid ones. They reminded you of the Pine Needle Man. They weren’t there to cause harm and had been kept away by all the more menacing ones. 

Mihos had said ‘Nega Dwellers’. If the Life Leech and the Others that meant harm were called Nega Dwellers, what were these nicer ones called? Was there a way to make sure the Nega Dwellers didn’t latch onto you again? Or what about getting them off other people?

You’d been so intent on keeping yourself away from other people, to protect yourself from their scorn, and ridicule, you’d never thought that maybe you could help them. You’d come close to stepping over the edge and letting death take you, there had to be others that could be saved from making the leap. 

Your interaction with Mihos had happened all in a handful of minutes. In that short span of time, your mind had been opened to the rest of the world that only you could see.

You couldn’t navigate it on your own, that much had been made apparent to you. Would Mihos help you? 

You recalled his dismissive behavior and how he’d magically vanished after dealing with the Life Leech. No one was talking about the good looking gym teacher anymore, in fact you were certain no one remembered the details of GYM class. Just that it had happened, and it had been uneventful. How had he done that?

For the first time, you had goals for yourself. The first being to find Mihos, the second, was to convince him to teach you. 

Life wasn’t going to be a monster that drained you away until you were nothing. It was going to be the monster you befriended and helped you explore the dangers of the world. 

[thecasinowolf]

Writing Self-Insert Fics Using Overused Tropes To Make Myself Feel Better Day 2

Video I get the tropes from(also I’ve decided I’m not gonna do these in order honhonhon): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ux8u7QxRLaA

Day 2: Highschool AU

Seth sat in the corner of the room, at the front of course. Osiris sat in the middle of the back row and he didn’t want to sit by him. This was a special needs class, and it was surprisingly small. The only students were himself, Cider, and Osiris. They all had their reasons to be there. Osiris kept acting up in class and around other students, Cider couldn’t read; a secret he would never tell anyone but the teacher, and as for Seth...well, he was getting better. At first, they put Seth in there because he would never talk to anyone. He would always lash out and attack anyone who tried to come near him: and now he was in here. It had been a while since he had attacked anybody but he liked being in this class better than he liked being in a ‘normal’ class. Cider bursts in to the classroom, five minutes to spare before the class started. “I’m here!” He announces. Osiris sarcastically claps for him and Seth rolls his eyes, looking out the window at the grass field and woods across from it. As always, he was gonna dick around in the woods the second the final bell rang, he just had to wait. “Where’s the teacher?” Cider asks, sitting in a desk in front of Osiris. Osiris shrugs.

“No clue. It’s gotta be for a good reason though, all he ever does is sit at his desk and drink coffee so like-” Osiris doesn’t finish his sentence and starts snickering. Seth grumbled to himself, it was going to be another long school day. Then the bell rang, and there wasn’t any sign of their teacher. “Fifteen minutes, and we can leave!” Osiris booms, already beginning to pack up his stuff. 

“No, no! That’s not necessary,” Their teacher, an older man named Mr. Ed, came in to the classroom. Cider and Osiris groaned. “I’m sorry for running late, I had to do something in the office with Mr. Triton concerning this kid right here.” Mr. Ed moves aside, allowing an unfamiliar student in. He was small, and his hood and mask obscured his face. Clearly, he did not want to be here. “This is your new classmate, his name is Cas.”

Cas waved awkwardly, before staring at the ground. “Um...find a seat, and we’ll get started,” Mr. Ed chuckled nervously, giving him an assuring pat on the back before making his way to the front of the room to get the smart board set up. Cas’ eyes quickly darted around the room indecisively, but he made his way to the back; he always liked to sit there. Out of mind, out of sight. He sat down, and set his stuff on the desk next to him, making a mini barrier between himself and Osiris. Cas then pulled out a notebook, a pencil, and started to doodle. It didn’t take but a minute or two for Osiris to start being a little shit.

“What’re you doing? What’s that? What’re you drawing? Can I see?” Osiris teases, firing off questions and reaching for his notebook. Cas is very clearly uncomfortable, shaking his head and trying to pull it away; before surrendering to this nosy bastard. Osiris flips through it and tries to muffle his laughs. “Wow, you’re really good~”

“LEAVE him alone, Osi-si-siris! I’m trying to fucking pay atte-ttention!” Seth snaps, turning around. Osiris drops the notebook back on to Cas’ desk.

“What? What’d I do?” Osiris asks coyly. 

“Okay, gentlemen, let’s calm down. If you guys don’t learn how to write persuasively I’m gonna get fired,” Mr.Ed half jokes, and returns to his explanation. Cas taps his notebook impatiently, and smiles before quietly moving himself and his stuff to the front of the room next to Seth, even though his least favorite thing was sitting in the front of the room: he felt like he had found a friend...sort of. Seth was oblivious to the feelings he just unlocked in the emotionally troubled individual that now sat next to him. He just thought he moved to get away from Osiris. Without thinking anything else about it; he half paid attention to the lesson, and half spaced out for the rest of the day, except for during lunch. Then, that was that. The final bell rang and everyone left for the afternoon to do their own thing. The next day, Seth could barely force himself out of bed. School was so stupid...he wouldn’t have to do school if he was a spooky space ghost pirate or something. Whatever, he made his way to school. He walked with Chronos, Cider, and Zephyr, er...behind them. They got in to the school, acting like they had never met each other; and proceeded to their classes. 

“Hey, Seth, wait!” Cider calls, running to catch up with Seth, who had already began walking to class after depositing his belongings in his locker. 

“What, Cider?” Seth sighs, knowing for sure he was gonna say something dumb.

“What’s the deal with you and the new kid?” Cider smirks. “You’re not going after him, right? ‘Cause I kind of like the mysterious type.”

“Ugh. Gross, of course not, y-y-you can have him.” Seth rolls his eyes, facepalming. Cider was so weird.

“Great, thanks, bye~” Cider grins, and walks ahead of him. By the time Seth had gotten to the classroom, Cider was leaning over Cas’ desk. Cas was signing to him, and Cider nodded along, but looked puzzled. Seth laughed at him.

“Well, that’s not gonna wor-wor-wor-work out for you, i-i-is it?” Seth teases. Cider crosses his arms and huffs, turning to Seth.

“Shut up,” Cider scolds through gritted teeth.

He can’t sign, Seth explains.

“Wha-! Hey! I don’t know what you’re saying but I know it’s not nice,” Cider says in an offended tone and walks to his desk.

I didn’t think so, Cas responds, and looks down at his desk. Seth thought that was the end of it, and sits at his desk. When he glanced at Cas, he seemed to be hard at work doodling something in his notebook.

“Love triangle!” Osiris stage whispers from the back of the room. Seth glares at him with evil intent, and Osiris backs off, laughing immaturely. “Hey, hey, Cider, I know sign. I can teach you. This is how you say, ‘I love you,’“ Osiris then proceeds to give him the sign for ‘bullshit’.

“Somehow, I don’t trust you,” Cider shakes his head. The bell rings, and the day proceeds as normal. At lunch, however, as Seth stands up to go walk around the halls, he feels a tug at his sleeve. He looks over at Cas, who had gotten up to get his lunch from his locker.

You don’t eat? He asks. 

No, I don’t, Seth responds, curious as to why he asked.

Wait here, Cas says, and walks out. Seth wasn’t about to take orders from anyone. But he was curious, so instead of staying put he walked outside the classroom to wait for him to return. When he gets back, he hands Seth a small box of...well, some snack Seth hadn’t heard of. Eating important, Cas stated. Seth holds a hand up to say something, but then stops, and signs something else.

You deaf? He asks. Cas shakes his head, and holds a finger over his mouth. “Mute?” Seth asks, Cas nods. “Okay, just cur-c-c-cur-c-curious. Anyways, I don’t eat. I’m never that hun-hun-hun-hungry.”

Well, I think you should eat. Cas insists.

“Fine, fine,” Seth gives in. “Thanks.” Cas acts like he just won something before walking back in to the classroom. Seth continues his walk through the halls. Weird. Why would a stranger care about him eating or not? Jeez. Then, it wasn’t until later that Seth would find out what was really going on. It was 5 in the morning, he would get ready for school in about an hour; so there was no point in trying to go back to sleep. Seth was scrolling through his Tik Tok for you page, he had no interest in getting the app or most social media apps for that matter, as no one payed any attention to him as they did the rest of his friends. But Cider insisted he make an account so he could follow him and get a boost. So he did, and then would check it from time-to-time when he was really bored. He scrolled and watched videos, and then...one caught his attention. The video was of Cas, and he was clearly filming himself from under his desk. Words in various colors appeared and disappeared from the screen. 

“Y’alls this cute guy just stood up for me in class” “Hims cute I’m gunna sit next to him hoo hee I’ll post updates n see if we get married” 

Seth scowled. I’m sorry, WHAT? He clicked on the profile, and scrolled down to find the one he just watched; and saw the videos following it. 

“Day 1 of getting cute guy to fall in love w/ me I guess. I sat next to him wowie progress o3o”

“Day 2 of getting cute guy to fall in love w/ me holy shit I gave him food n he accepted sdigjfiosgjfgkl”

This man was going to be a dead bastard tomorrow. 

And the next day, Cas was seated in his desk minding his own business, doodling. When suddenly two hands SLAMMED down on his desk, making him jump. He looked up and saw a very angry Seth. He squeaked nervously; oh God...what did he do??

Hi?? He greeted shyly. 

“Explain,” Seth growls, holding up his phone. Cas’ eyes widened in horror realizing he was seeing one of the videos he made on his screen.

I didn’t think those would get popular! I swear! I posted the first one for fun and then it ended up on the fyp and I kept making them and I’m sorry! I can take them down if you want! I didn’t think you’d be upset! I mean I didn’t think you’d ever see them but- Cas rambled nervously.

“Enough! Is this why you’ve been being nice to me? Because...this?!” Seth ranted.

No, no, no! That’s not it at all. It is because I like you. I said I didn’t think they’d get popular...I’m sorry... Cas apologizes. I can delete them?

Seth calms down, backing away from his desk and shaking his head. Now that he thought about it. He was being irrational; his face wasn’t shown in any of the videos and they were relatively harmless. He just...hated the thought that someone would have been using him for internet clout. But no, Cas was being nice to him and just made fun videos about it. After taking a deep breath, he spoke again.

“No. It’s fine. It’s fine...” Seth sits in his desk. Cas shuffles nervously. 

Want me to move? He asks.

“No...you can stay,” Seth replies. The five minute warning bell rang and Seth looks at Cas shyly. “Hey...if you like me, why don’t we do something after school? We could see a movie or something.” 

Cas smiles,

I’d love to do that.

[emergent-neurodivergent]

absolutely everything

Born after prolonged and difficult labor

Mother recalled that I did not cry, which she knew was strange. Might have had to be "jump-started" (blue baby).

Severe infant colic and chronic ear infections; 24-hour scream-crying

Earliest memory: lying in my mother’s arms in church while people sang about a dead man (Jesus). I found it horrifying and began to cry, and someone said, "She must be hungry." I realized that people were separate, each isolated in their own experiences. Nobody could feel my feelings or guess my thoughts. I was surrounded by people, but completely alone

Parents described me as happiest when absorbed in quiet solo play (i.e. emptying kitchen cabinets to look at and sort their contents)

Enjoyed repetition—the same action, words, or song over and over again; others tired of it long before I did

Experienced myself as male from the start. My sisters were "the girls", my brother and I were "the boys".

Hyperactivity set in as soon as I could walk; described as “out of control”, “hard to handle”, “exhausting”

Frequently walked up and "attached" to total strangers; parents feared I might be abducted

Prone to risk-taking activities and hard physical play that resulted in injuries and nearly 30 stitches in my face/head before age 3

Taught myself to read at age 2 (hyperlexia)

Hyperfocus. Shut out my surroundings, ignored my name being called, had to be physically pulled away from activity/interest

Interruptions of focus felt (and still feel) physically painful

Breakthrough: one day neighborhood kids were swinging a stray cat around by its tail.  I rushed at them in anger, and they let the cat go.  It came to me that the only way to cope with being separate was to be kind.  Even if others couldn’t feel my feelings, I could try to feel and defend theirs

Felt a strong connection to a neighborhood boy my age who was autistic and nonverbal. We sat on the front steps being quiet together, or I would talk to him about insects, rain, leaves

Placed in a specialized nursery school at age 4 on the recommendation of my aunt, a special education teacher

Uncle paid tuition as parents could not afford it; they were overwhelmed and at a loss over what to do with me

Parents later insisted school was for “gifted children”; may not have wanted to admit to others that I was disabled

As the only one “allowed” to go to the special school, I was perceived by my siblings as being given unfair preferential treatment.  They didn't understand that I HAD to go and resented me being the center of so much adult attention. The mischaracterization of my status (“gifted” instead of “disabled”) caused a lifetime of conflict

Faculty evaluated me as having severe ADHD and recommended I be medicated. Mother angrily rejected diagnosis, insisting the teachers “had the wrong kid”.  How could I be attention-deficient when I exhibited such concentration when reading or drawing?

Family moved to another county.  Parents may not have reported my year at the private facility to the new public school district, otherwise I would have been placed in special ed instead of reg. kindergarten

Teachers noticed my extreme reactions to sensory triggers (songs, art, scenes in books).   Nonverbal and overpowering emotions; cried without being able to say why I was crying

Making art, writing stories and poetry, singing, and making music kept me focused and quiet

Auditory processing disorder.  Chronic infections blocked my ears at a time when my developing brain should have connected spoken words to meaning.  As a result, others' speech was heard but not understood; it was if I was listening to an unintelligible alien tongue. Tested multiple times for hearing impairment.  Because my physical hearing was perfect, the idea grew that I just wasn’t listening or was actively defying my teachers’ instructions

Poor balance and physical coordination. Clumsiness, stumbling, knocking into things, falling

Difficulty organizing my body parts to perform a task or movement. Could not tie own shoes until age 10 because hands would not coordinate

Older sister and I were given the Wechsler (WISC) tests; based on our IQ results (130-140) and our early academic achievements, we were selected to attend GATEWAY (gifted/talented program) for one full day per week from grades 4-6

In 1980, intelligence was viewed as a binary system (left brain/right brain, artistic vs. analytic), with emphasis placed on STEM skills.  Math/science students were not expected to become more artistic, but artistic students were pressured to pick up math/science in order to become more socially useful

Additionally, neurodivergence/learning disabilities were believed to be incompatible with giftedness. One could be gifted and quirky (like Einstein) but not deficient or fragile.  Many of us struggled to mask our true selves according to the ideals of our teachers & parents.

Adults used us to belittle "average" or “poor” students, who in turn came to resent and reject us.  Many of us became social outcasts, unable to form healthy, trusting relationships

Being chosen for GATEWAY multiplied the sibling resentment that surrounded my attending the “special school”.  For decades, my younger sister expressed anger toward me because I had been in GATEWAY, and not her

Math learning disability (dyscalculia).  Teachers pointed out that I was “good at everything else” and therefore must be selectively lazy, stubborn, or faking it

Sixth-grade teacher used my ND traits to abuse, gaslight, and alienate me from my peers, who began to bully me in and out of school

Anxiety, panic attacks, nightmares, insomnia, skin and hair picking, meltdowns and shutdowns, failing grades

Transferred to Catholic school (7th/8th grade).  Owing to substandard quality of curriculum, I fell even further behind in studies and my developmental issues remained unaddressed and unalleviated

Anorexia @ 13-- ritualistic eating habits, obsessive exercise and calorie logging, superstitions about “safe/unsafe” foods, fear of eating in front of other people; all as a means of regaining control.

Obsessive exercise – 2 hour walk and 1.5 hours aerobics/calisthenics every day. Helped me to clear my head and manage my emotions, but also fed into anorexia and OCD (crushing guilt if I did not do exactly the right number of repetitions)

In high school, a sympathetic teacher recognized my dyscalculia and facilitated my transfer into remedial math.  Eventually became able to handle basic ASMD, measurement, and simple fractions/decimals so long as they had practical applications such as counting money or doubling a recipe. However, could not tell time on an analog clock or calculate “minutes after/minutes of” until age 17

Poor social skills and boundaries. Impulsivity; behaving or speaking in ways inappropriate to setting and occasion. Difficulty identifying own personal space as distinct from others', or trustworthy people from untrustworthy people. This led to abuse and trauma

Preference for quiet solitude (introvert) but immediate switching to “show business” when around others

Strange modes of play; highly imaginative, assigning awareness and personality to inanimate objects

Difficulty sustaining friendships; either overly intense or distrustful; rejection sensitivity; sudden withdrawals

Other people’s attention or company felt overwhelming

Emotional dysregulation; feeling things strongly and expressing myself with inappropriate intensity (verbal/nonverbal)

Difficulty regulating vocal tone, volume, gestures, eye contact and facial expressions. Tend to speak too loudly/expressively for others’ comfort

Difficulty figuring out when to speak; tendency to interrupt, blurt things out; takes effort to respond in a way that shows the speaker that I hear them and am reacting to them

Eye contact is possible but not preferable.  Can manage for short periods but inevitably have to turn my gaze elsewhere.  If a person talks to me while looking away, or if we look at each others’ mouths and hand gestures rather than eyes, it’s safe and I will listen closely and understand more

Strongly dislike being stared at; I experience it as aggression. I try not to stare at other people, as I assume they find it as intrusive and painful as I do.  If they stare directly at me while talking to me, my mind literally blocks out the meaning of their words

Visual sensitivity—severe aversion or strong attraction to colors or layout of objects that provoke a physical response; aversion to fluorescent, flashing or pulsing lights

Extremely strong fear reaction to the sight (or even MENTAL IMAGE) of objects swinging, swaying, spinning, tapping, floating aimlessly, or pushed by other forces without volition.  People on swingsets or trapezes, inanimate objects swaying in the breeze, things caught in an air/water current.  Terror, panic, vertigo, feeling imminent danger or loss of control.  Even thinking about swinging objects results in powerfully intrusive images that are very hard to banish from my mind

Distracting "mirages" in field of vision: patterns, amorphous forms, floaters, telescoping

Due to APD, developed a habit of making people say everything twice so that my comprehension could catch up; was accused of “not listening the first time”

Understand instructions better when I read rather than have them read to me

Difficulty using telephone because I can’t see the person’s mouth/expressions.  Would beg parents to tell friends I wasn’t home rather than come to the phone when they called.  I can talk on the phone if I have time to prepare myself, such as when I am assigned to phone duty at work and can see it on the schedule.  On my own phone, I only pick up for my spouse or very close friends; all other calls must go to voicemail so that I can prepare myself mentally to call back.

Understood SUNG language and possessed accurate pitch, but could not read music because it is math

Strong aversion to high pitched or metallic sounds; these produce a strong physical reaction like an electric shock, skin crawling, teeth hurting, etc.  Dysphonia but with fear instead of anger.

Strong positive nonverbal response to certain sounds, especially music which produces emotions so intense and painful I cry (i.e. “Hey Jude”)

Strong reaction to rhythm so long as it is produced deliberately.  Drumming and percussion cause positive “entrainment”, but a tapping sound produced by a mindlessly swinging object striking something else causes panic

Extremely painful “earworms” (auditory looping; repetitive mental cycling of a sound, spoken phrase, or music).  I have to be careful what I listen to and try to break them before they set in, otherwise they repeat night and day and can last for weeks. 

Acute sense of smell - able to detect/identify odors quickly and accurately. I liked scents and obsessively sniffed my mother’s spice bottles one by one, top shelf to bottom, over and over.  There was hardly anything I wouldn’t smell and analyze.  This fed into my later hyperfixation on perfume.

Phantosmia (phantom smells from no physical source).  Very distressing, as they are always unpleasant odors (burning, decaying, sour, musty, chemical)

Food preferences – texture (like dry, hard, crunchy foods; dislike fibrous, slimy, viscous, wet foods), taste (like spicy, salty, bitter, savory foods most of all), temperature (warm, not hot; cool, not cold)

Ate with my fingers and kept food in my mouth for a long time to experience its taste/texture 

Like to eat the same foods again and again

Sometimes bolted my food too fast when anxious or impatient to get back to what I was doing

Frequently experience spasms that cause me to bite my tongue; sometimes unconsciously chew the inside of my cheek until I bleed

Extremely averse to anyone watching me eat; preferred to eat in secret.

Anorexia at age 14 (100-300 calories a day, obsessively measuring food, eating the same foods every day prepared in the same way, keeping notebook of meals)

Orthorexia (strict vegan/vegetarian). Obsessive to the point where I superstitiously refused to touch anything that had come into contact with meat.  However, I did not judge others for eating meat; mine was a superstitious rather than moral choice

Sensitivity to fabric texture.  Cannot bear scratchy, nubbly, rubbery, slippery, plasticky, or synthetic fibers against my skin.  Cotton, linen, denim, suede, and soft microfleece are fine. 

Liked having “uniform” clothes that did not require anxiety-producing decisions of what to wear.  Very attached to “my” clothes – Doc Martens, jeans, a limited rotation of shirts.

Aversion to getting skin wet— sensation of water on face produced panic in childhood

Aversion to having my hair washed, combed, or brushed; matted hair had to be cut off.  Hated feeling my hair touch any part of my body, which is why I keep my head shaved.  Liked having my stubble rubbed hard.

Aversion to light touch.  I like to be squeezed, pressed, sat on, rubbed or kneaded, but not tickled or stroked.  If my spouse strokes my arm too many times it hurts and we call it “feeling tetchy”

Loving physical contact for very short bursts and then drawing back because it becomes overwhelming

Vestibular stimming-- liked to be upside-down but stable (not swinging)— sitting backward on sofa with head hanging down

Frequently lost head/foot alignment on bed at night and became hysterical when I couldn’t find “up”

Preferred wild/rough play to “soft” activities such as swimming; like hard contact and physical affection with particular people

Difficulty with organized, competitive sports with intricate rules; better at single-action sports such as running

Poor depth perception, knocking into things even when I could see them clearly

Tendency to react strongly and emotionally when injured; conversely, sometimes seek physical pain in order to unlock blocked emotions (hand biting, face slapping, head banging)

Routinely ignores bodily needs (hunger, thirst, sleep, elimination) and sensations (pain, discomfort, temperature) when hyperfixating. Time vanishes; several hours can go by before I “come to”. Conversely, when deprived of stimuli, time moves too slowly; I need to stim or I panic

Strange way of expressing things via sensory language.  A person’s voice could be iron nails scraping across icy sheet metal.  Another person’s touch could be warm friendly liquid. 

Emotions expressed in body. When I'm afraid to say something, my jaw locks. Others' pain gives me pain; I feel electric flashes when another person describes their own injuries.

Difficulty going to sleep and staying asleep; extremely vivid dreams interrupted my rest. Insomnia since age 11.

Looking for comfort in odd objects – i.e. paper, beads, buttons, etc.  Categorizing, sorting, and mixing up these items was soothing, as was ripping paper into small shreds.

Bursts of aggression, anger, strong emotion; meltdowns.  When extremely upset, would go into cataleptic “shutdown” – dissociation, threat of paralysis in whatever position I was in when it took hold.  I got into the habit of removing myself as quickly as possible to a safe place before it set in.  Body rigid, eyes closed, unable to speak, unable to move even when my bladder was full to the point of pain.  Worst incidence of this was at age 24 after an intense argument with my parents.  I freaked out and began to bang my head on the kitchen table, then slid onto the floor where I lay for about two hours while my family talked about what had happened.  I ended up with a severe concussion. 

Other forms of meltdown self-injury – biting my own hand, scratching skin with pin, slapping my own face

Got into the habit of ripping up paper when I was angry to avoid hurting myself.

Repetitive behaviors: skin picking, hair pulling (trichotillomania), chewing inside of mouth, sucking on tongue, jiggling foot, strumming fingers (typing is good for this)

OCD behaviors – obsessively checking doors/windows multiple times to make sure they’re locked, doing so even after I’ve checked them ten times, checking on position of objects and being scared if they have been moved, needing bells on doors so I can hear if they open or close, ritual goodbyes w/ presupposition of never seeing the person again, imagining split-off realities where simple actions have resulted in catastrophes and believing that they may still be in progress all due to me

INTENSE SPECIAL INTERESTS!!!!!  Some sustained, some intermittent/reoccurring, some time-limited.  Irish history, Celtic interlace drawings, Romanovs, geiko culture, ukiyo-e, history of glam & punk music, herbalism, Northern Tradition paganism, runes, tarot, religious iconography and symbols, perfume history and classification, historical costume, paperdolls. Collections – rocks/minerals/crystals, stamps, coins, buttons, beads, cardinal bird collectibles, perfume, blank books, Maurice Sendak and Edward Gorey books

Taking insanely detailed notes about things that interested me even when there was no assignment to do so; keeping entire notebooks of chronological events, dates, bullet points, lists, parts of concepts, outline formats, different aspects or principles, all in an effort to understand the world.  During high school, I kept an intricate clipping file of news stories about the ongoing crisis in Northern Ireland and would scour my father’s three newspapers a day to keep on top of it.  I live nowhere near Northern Ireland and am otherwise unaffected by the Catholic vs. Protestant / Irish vs. British conflict. 

Intense study of occult spirituality/philosophy in the hope of understanding hidden, complicated things which I could not seem to grasp. 

Understood instructions best if I was allowed to write them out myself, EVEN IF they were already printed. 

Obsession with words, definitions, etymologies, and precise language as a way to avoid misunderstanding and rejection. Strunk & White’s Elements of Style could offer meaning beyond grammar and more toward how to “fit” better with people in general.  Of course, it had the exact opposite effect, as I WROTE in a complicated formal style but SPOKE (and cursed) like a dockworker

Obsessive journal-keeping and corresponding paranoia about privacy.  Developed extremely tiny handwriting to prevent people from seeing at a glance what I was writing.  Carried around ALL of my journals/notebooks in one mailbag, taking it with me everywhere, even from room to room in our house (“she's got her STUFF”)

Entertaining people as a way to keep peace and maintain social acceptability.  Repeating lines from movies, and working impersonations and bits of songs into my “shtick”. Willing to be laughed at and thought ridiculous if it would enable me to stay.  This was both expected and criticized by others.

Celibacy (straightedge) solved two problems: gender dysphoria (mlm) and dislike of being touched except out of platonic affection

Not knowing that I was disabled caused me to break off relationships with those who DID know (my family, certain friends) but kept it from me. I took their assumption that I would be unable to live on my own or hold down a job as both an insult and a challenge. My parents told me they'd fully accepted that I would live with them for the rest of my life; I rejected this strongly and was the first to move out.

Throughout my life, various friends and acquaintances have suggested to me that I have ASD/ADHD and encouraged me to look into it. I didn't quite believe them, but now I believe they were correct. Seeking answers has led me to better self-acceptance and a restoration of my sense of place within the community.

[supervalor]

All Roads Lead To You - New Karamel One-Shot series

This is a new series of one-shots that will go through different tropes and settings where versions of Mon-El and Kara meet for the first time. If anyone feels inspired to write a full story from any of them please feel free to do so but link me so I can read :)

One Shot #1 

Theme: Single parent/Teacher AU

Setting: Mon-El came to Earth before Kara’s pod arrived and ended up becoming a teacher at a school for alien refugees and their children. Years after Kara has arrived on Earth, she has not yet become Supergirl and instead ended up becoming a single mother to a special little girl. 

“Bye mommy, I’ll see you later”, Lora, Kara’s precious four year old, yelled to her as she ran towards the front entrance of the school as fast as her small legs could carry her. 

Kara watched her go, her chest tightening with anxiety as she watched her little blonde angel disappear from view. It was her daughter’s very first day at school and she had been dreading sending her off all week. She still doubted that this was a good decision but her sister Alex had convinced her that her girl needed the socialisation as well as an education especially if she was ever going to make it as an adult. J’onn, Alex’s boss, was actually the one who had recommended this school as the only exclusively alien school in National City.

“It’s hard isn’t it?” a green skinned woman with three eyes spoke with a soft voice from beside Kara. “It’s not even my kid’s first day and I still don’t like watching them leave my side for even a second”.

Kara forced herself to smile and nod at the woman as she glanced back at the building. So many things could go wrong…her daughter could accidentally bring down the building with a temper tantrum or accidentally break a kid’s arm while playing…she really wished she hadn’t allowed Alex and Eliza to twist her arm into sending her precious little girl off to school where she couldn’t protect her and anything could happen.

Realising that most of the parents had left by now, Kara forced her legs to move and she got into her car, driving away from the building with her heart beating outside her chest. She bit her lip and turned on the radio, hoping for any sort of distraction. Her car immediately filled with the sound of Ed Sheeran singing about his ‘Galway Girl’ and she drove to work, her mind determinedly thinking of anything other than Lora.

Work was the same as always with Kara going out of her way to please her boss, Cat Grant, who also happened to be Lora’s grandmother. The two of them kept their personal and professional relationships separate which was lucky since Cat’s son Adam and Lora’s father broke up with Kara after learning she wasn’t human and refused to have anything to do with their daughter. Cat, however, fully disapproved of her son’s behaviour and insisted on having a relationship with her granddaughter, alien or not.

She was in the middle of queuing up at a nearby bakery for Cat’s order of cupcakes when her cell began to ring. She frowned at the unfamiliar number before swiping answer. “Hello?”

“Hi, is this Ms Danvers?” a deep male voice asked from the other side of the line. Her stomach flipped nervously, her thoughts flickering to Lora. This had to be the school calling since no one else outside of work and family had this number.

“This is she”

“Sorry to be calling you like this in the middle of the day but I’m going to need you to come in to the school as soon as possible”.

Kara’s heart raced and her pulse quickened with panic. She almost dropped her bag as she gripped the cell phone anxiously, careful to keep her strength under control so it didn’t break. “Is Lora okay? Did something happen?”

“Lora is fine. I’ll fill you in when you get here, I don’t think this is something that should be discussed over the phone”.

The two of them hung up and Kara quickly grabbed and paid for Cat’s order before delivering it back to the office. “Is everything alright?” Cat asked her, noticing her aggravated state almost immediately.

“It’s Lora’s school. They want me to come in as soon as I can”.

“Then you should go. Make sure that my granddaughter is okay. If they even think about suspending her then call my number and I’ll sue their asses”, Cat assured her and Kara almost smiled. She thanked her boss before grabbing her jacket and bag and speeding out of the building while no one was paying attention. Instead of bothering to drive back to the school, she took off from the ground and flew through the sky, the flight taking fifteen minutes less than the drive in traffic would have.

Kara surreptitiously made sure no one was around before landing and making her way into the building. She approached the bored looking receptionist who had tentacles sticking out of her head. “Hi there”, she smiled politely at the woman who barely glanced at her as she approached. “I’m Kara Danvers and I’m here for Lora Danvers”.

She watched as the receptionist quickly typed in her name into her computer. “Classroom 106 is just down the hall”, came the monotone response a moment later and Kara tried very hard not to roll her eyes before heading the way the receptionist told her to. 

She finally made it to the classroom that was empty of kids, apparently on recess, except for Lora who was sat sulking at a desk while a male humanoid sat on a chair across from her as he talked to her daughter.

Kara knocked on the door and caused the man to look up and directly at her. Her breath caught as she locked eyes on the handsome face that was gazing straight back at her. She had no idea that her daughter’s teacher was so…attractive. It didn’t help that his white dress shirt was tight across his muscular chest and she’d always had a thing for guys in ties and shirts. She felt her cheeks begin to redden and she schooled her expression into something a little more…appropriate as the teacher told her to come in.

“Hi, I’m Kara, Lora’s mom”.

The man stood up at his full height and held his hand out to her with a charming smile that almost made her swoon if she was that type of girl…which she wasn’t…at all…not even in a little bit. “Hello Kara, I’m Mon-El of Daxam”.

Her eyebrows almost shot up and disappeared into her hairline at his introduction. This dangerously attractive man, her daughter’s teacher was a Daxamite? She had to bite her tongue from saying something but quickly realised that if he was here to cause trouble then the man would not likely be employed by a school that takes their students safety seriously due to the fact they are all aliens in a xenophobic city for the most part. He also wouldn’t be even working as a teacher if he was a typical Daxamite out for fun and nothing else.

“I guess in full disclosure I should tell you that I’m actually Kara Zor-El of Krypton and Lora is half Kryptonian”, Kara informed him and give him a look that dared him to say something rude about her or her daughter. Mon-El did neither, his smile not waning at her words which surprised her slightly. She had felt an initial surge of prejudice, so wouldn’t he?

“I kind of figured that when she started blowing holes into the wall with her heat vision”, he informed her and gestured to the back of the room where two smoke covered holes decorated the wall, which she hadn’t noticed and probably should have as soon as she walked in the room. Her worry for Lora must have been blocking everything else out and then she saw Mon-El…

“Oh Rao, I’m so sorry”, Kara turned to look at her daughter who was giving her a very sheepish look. “Lora Alexandra Danvers, what did you do that for? You know better than to use your powers like this”.

“I didn’t mean to!” she complained. “Zeke was pulling on my hair and making fun of me for looking like a stupid human and I got upset and lost control”, tears began filling her daughter’s light blue eyes and Kara’s anger immediately dissipated.

“Oh Lora”, she bent down and allowed her daughter to slip into her arms for a hug. “I am so sorry that I sent you here against my better judgement. Don’t worry from now on you can stay home and I’ll teach you there”.

“Mommy I don’t want to stay at home, I like school! I like Mr Mon-El and I like most of the other kids. Please don’t make me stay home”, Lora cried, pulling away from her mother to glance up at Mon-El pleadingly. “Please don’t kick me out of school. I’m sorry I lost control, I promise that I’ll do better”.

“Don’t worry sweetheart, nobody is kicking you out. Zeke is the only one in trouble for picking on you” Mon-El assured her in the softest voice, bending down onto a knee so that he could meet her eye level. “But you know if he ever tries to call you names for the way you look just remember that I’m like you. I’m an alien but I look human. No one in this school is exactly the same anyway and he should know better for picking on someone for being different”.

Kara watched as her daughter’s tears began to dissipate and felt a rush of warmth towards Mon-El. Maybe this school wasn’t the worst place for her, especially with a teacher like him around to help calm her little girl. “You know maybe we should give this another try before calling it quits”, she declared causing a smile to light up on her child’s face. “I shouldn’t let my fears stop you from living your life and you need to learn how to control your abilities outside of the house eventually”.

“You’re right, she does and I swear that nothing she does here will leave the classroom or this school”, Mon-El promised his grey eyes flickering back to Kara. “The principal is great about keeping things on the down low especially when it comes to kids with abilities. She is a shapeshifter herself so she understands discretion is important. I’ll also make sure no one figures out that you and Lora are related to Superman” he added with a smirk.

Kara’s blonde eyebrows flew up in astonishment. “How did you know? Did Lora say something about our cousin?”

“No”, he laughed. “But seeing as he is the last son of Krypton and most of both our people are extinct I figured you are probably related to him to have made it off the planet like you did”.

So he was pretty and he was smart. If she wasn’t terrible with relationships or a busy working mother or someone with a different personality altogether, then she may have flirted with him. “You’re right. I’m his cousin and was supposed to make it to Earth before him to protect him but my pod got knocked off course and I arrived twelve years too late and he was already Superman. He didn’t need me to look out for him”.

“Did you never think of following in his footsteps?” Mon-El asked after sending Lora off to gather her bag and coat from the hangers at the back of the room.

“I did but then Lora happened and I couldn’t bring myself to do anything that would put her at risk. My sister convinced me that the world had Superman, they didn’t need me potentially messing things up”.

Alex had always been against Kara coming out in public and she had never fought her sister on it, convinced that she was right and that she’d never make a good superhero and that the best thing for everyone was for her to keep on the down low. 

Her cousin had always disagreed and tried to persuade her to give it a shot but when Lora was born he knew that he’d never be able to get her to risk exposing her child especially when there was no one else around that could keep her safe. Clark had his own life in Metropolis and her adopted family were human. Lora’s dad wasn’t in the picture and Cat only knew so much about Kara and Lora.

“I bet the world could use you too”, he smiled at her and caused her heart to beat faster than the speed of light. He really was attractive. She opened her mouth to respond but was immediately interrupted by the reappearance of her little angel.

“I’m ready, mommy”.

“Thank you, Mon-El. I’ll see you around?”

“I hope so”, he grinned with a flirtatious undertone to his voice and Kara blushed as she grabbed Lora’s hand and walked her out of the door. She felt Mon-El’s eyes follow them from the doorway as they disappeared down the hall and out of the school and hoped that she’d see a lot more of him in the future.

[grootiez]

The Joys of Raising a Teenaged Groot- Chapter 8: Communication

Nebula cautiously approaches Groot’s room. The teenager’s bedroom door was closed as a sign to the other Guardians that he did not want to be disturbed.

“Groot?” Nebula softly knocks as she whispers against the door that was adorned with various posters of rock bands, graffiti that Groot drew on there himself, (even though all it said was “I am Groot” in different ways), and a tiny sign of Bob Ross in the middle of the door that said “A Happy Little Tree lives here.” There was loud music coming from the other side of the door, even though Rocket just revoked his music privileges because of the attitude Groot gave the other Guardians as soon as he walked through the front door the day that he was arrested.

Inside, Nebula saw that Groot was successful in sawing off the wrought iron bars that were on his window to prevent him from sneaking out of the house. She was almost rendered deaf by the loudness of the music that Groot had on his stereo. The music was some mashup of hard rock, heavy metal, Emo, gothic, and some sort of punk rock all rolled up into one.

Groot’s latest project wasn’t his homework, no, as he already told Rocket that he’d already finished it while he was in detention today. Nebula walked over to where the teenager threw his backpack unceremoniously. She then opened it up to discover that Groot’s textbooks were virtually untouched and his notebooks where he was supposed to write his homework on were clean with no pencil marks on it. Groot was more interested in cutting something as  Nebula heard a sawing noise coming from his bed that he was sitting on.

Nebula tapped her nephew’s shoulder. “Hey.” Groot jumped, startled by his aunt as she sat next to him. “What’cha doing?” She pretended to show an interest in Groot’s life.

“I am Groot.” Groot said as he hid something underneath his pillow.

Nebula tried to hide her frustration with trying to talk to a moody teenager that can only say three words. “Okay, I don’t know what you mean by that, but-.” Her frustrations become visible. “Ugh, I don’t know what you want!” She yelled at him before she regained her composure and said calmly. “Can you write down what you’re thinking to me?”

Groot glared at his aunt. He always feels insulted when anyone asks him to communicate his thoughts in any other way instead of just using his voice. Rocket understands him, why not everyone else?

Even though he’s enrolled at the most prestigious school in Xandar, he’s forced by the administrators and teachers to use a special communication device that is activated by him pressing various buttons that represent different words on a computer-like machine whenever he wants to talk to anyone or answer any questions in class. This is the main reason why his grades have been falling in school. Class participation is about 1/3 of his overall grade in each of his subjects in school. If he has to answer questions with a talking device that makes him sound like a robot to the other students,which makes him stand out like a sore thumb, and, as a result, Groot’s been a long-time target of bullies purely for this reason.

It wasn’t always like this. When Groot first started at the Xandar Academy in kindergarten, he had a one-on-one aide that studied his species’ language and could communicate with him and convey his answers and wants and needs to his teachers and the other kids. But by the time Groot had entered the 5th grade, his aide was getting old and nearing her required retirement at 65. The school tried to find another aide for Groot, but there was no one that studied Groot’s language. Rocket was called in for an emergency meeting with the Headmaster and all of Groot’s teachers to come up with a plan. The only options that they gave him were to either homeschool Groot until he was old enough to graduate, place him in the special education classroom, or to have him communicate his thoughts via a communication device. Well, the Department of Xandarian Education would’ve shown up at the Guardians’ house faster than lightning as soon as they heard that the pyromaniac raccoon was teaching Groot how to build various weapons, bombs, and Death Buttons. If Groot was placed in the special ed class, he would’ve had an even bigger target on his back for being bullied by the other kids, and Rocket has seen enough of other kids bullying Groot during the time when the tiny tree was taken from their custody and placed in that so-called “orphanage” where Groot was bullied by the other orphans and the adults in charge of the facility.

So the only option was to have Groot use the communication device to talk to the other kids and adults when he was in school. The device in question was packed away in its traveling case, as the school allowed Groot to take it home in the hopes that it would become his main form of communication. But Groot refuses to use it when he’s at home because he has Rocket translate for him as it’s always been. Rocket doesn’t mind doing this, but deep down, he wishes that Groot could talk like everybody else. For one thing, everyone could understand him, and two, Groot wouldn’t have to rely on Rocket to do everything for him, even if Groot’s request was as simple as a glass of water.

Groot then sighed in frustration as he got up and grabbed a pen and a blank notepad from his desk before sitting back down on his bed next to his aunt.

Nebula tries to talk calmly to Groot. “Now, what’s been bothering you?” She struggled to ask without getting angry.

Groot then writes down his response in Xandarian Script and hands the notepad back to Nebula, who then reads it. Groot, who needs a special pen to write because of the size of his hands struggles with using the normal-sized pen and his handwriting comes out messier than usual, even worse than Peter’s handwriting.

“So, Rocket’s been a real pain, huh?” She asked as Groot nodded. “Well, there’s not much I can do or say about that.” She and Groot share a rare chuckle together. “He just wants what’s best for you. From what I’ve seen, you’re everything to him. He just wants to protect you.” Nebula added as Groot asked for the pen and notepad back.

The teenager wrote another question and handed it back to his aunt. “Yes, I agree, Groot.” Nebula nodded as she read the notepad. “The Stupid Fox needs to give you a little bit more freedom.” Groot smiled as Nebula, who, he never liked and was scared to death of when he was just a sapling, agreed with him for a change. “But, you have to obey the rules that he sets down for you.”

Groot groaned and rolled his eyes when Nebula said this. She continued as she laid an arm across his shoulder in an embrace, “He won’t be in charge of you forever. As soon as you’re an adult, you can start to make your own decisions. Maybe leave the house and live on your own. But not until then. Okay?”

Groot nodded solemnly. He then lifted his leg and showed Nebula the ankle monitor that he was now forced to wear until his probation was over with.

“Ah, yes. I remember those, everytime my siblings and I went out on a mission for Thanos and we got caught, some of his most senior advisors would come and bust us out of whatever hellhole of a prison we were held in.” Nebula told Groot. “However, we did feel Thanos’ wrath as soon as we returned home to his base. As punishment, he would force us to wear these ankle monitors while we performed hard manual labor until he felt that we were toughened up from the torture.”

Nebula then looked at the ankle monitor that was on Groot’s leg. She then examined the monitor. “They were very much like this one. Big, bulky, very technologically advanced, but easily able to be hacked into and overridden. After time and time again of being forced to wear these, I learned how to override the microchip embedded inside the computer and could take it off as soon as I wasn’t guarded by Thanos’ lieutenants. But as soon as they came for me to continue the labor, I put it back on without them knowing that I knew how to take it off. But those nights of freedom were absolute bliss.”

Groot then looked at her. Nebula didn’t need him to write down what he was about to ask his aunt. “I know what you’ thinking. And no, I’m not going to remove the ankle monitor from you.” Groot then looked back down at the device, picking at it. Nebula then embraced him again, making the Flora Colossus look at her. “I’m a convicted criminal all throughout the galaxy, Groot. You’ve been given a chance to right your wrongs and not be sent to prison. No one in this so-called ‘Family’ wants to see you screw it up.”

Groot thinks about what Nebula said. After a minute, Gamora could be heard down the hallway, calling his name.

A minute later, there was a knock on his door, followed by Gamora gently opening it and seeing her sister and the teenager on his bed bonding, which surprises her.

“Groot, Rocket’s been waiting in the car for half an hour now. You have to go to the soup kitchen for your community service, remember?” Gamora’s gaze then went over to her sister. “Are, are you two talking to each other now?” She marveled at the pair as Groot stood up.

Groot grunted at the two before storming off to get in Rocket’s car so that his adoptive father could drive him to start his community service to the soup kitchen.

[howtomovefreely]

Objective (3-D) ¡  Keep track of lessons created to HELP (1) move freely throughout my day PHYSICALLY while tracking Triggers & Flashbacks (TF) AND NOW THE REFLECTION : huh?

This was an insurmountable task & I ALWAYS SAY, “EVERYTHING IS SURMOUNTABLE.”  It’s my two cats, one trying to mount the other & why I think about the question, “How did you get your cats?” and I start to see how fragments of sentences & words remind of other things, this not being the way my mind works only I was able to connect my thinking & not forget what I was saying. That is the same with reading and writing.  When there are multiple things in your life that mimicking each other & now visuals & touching are also areas that ARE WAY DIFFERENT.

     Two Options

Two options always, write or not write / to do any fine motor or gross motor requiring lifting or pulling my body & neck pain spikes!  

Weapon of choice is the pencil for graphite and the color gray / the color of truth a blended mix of black & white why we’re going to do this mother right 

PEACE, LOVE, HARMONY, CUDDLES & SAFE PLACES to LEARN, PLAY & WORK IN / found all my old loves c’est la vie for the only Revolution

Dreamed in French on day 18 & why when I travel I try to live like a native, naturally / doing natural things, breathing is the objective, the way to, to sing

For every ptsd memory there’s a LOVING ONE doing battles with weapons & ways of death that are still haunting me / the body/brain duality enacted in times of misery that lasted for 7 and 9-months & still you ask for evidence to NEVER discuss the solutions that could seriously change this child’s life right now?  To have harmony with two opposing forces, The Day & The Night, demanding their due, a validation that led to BOO HOO & why this was the point that I knew to FOCUS ON to PULL THROUGH.  It requires “true friends” who can’t do anything but supportive : it’s simply too easy not to do.

Accountability & Transparency : MODEL IT : How?!

ED IT all triggers that are present in a safe space : created 20+ and finding what is most natural & how to take breaks that are the right amount of time to adequately step away to “not die” but also not to lose the tri(grrr) since it WILL COME UP AGAIN & the point is to snuff it out with self-awareness & the decision to say, “NO!”

magic : intrinsic motivation that’s in all of us : change trigger to tiger

with any new skill or bad habit, nothing changes overnight

Teachers who scaffold have put THOUGHT into learning styles, classroom management & their own job performance which quite frankly, if you’re doing the RIGHT THING & open to feedback, there should be no worry

Document if “nighttime” is better in terms of “triggers” & moments “fear is present” since if you’re able to MAKE A SCHEDULE that ACCOMMODATES sleep. Zzz the #1 direct correlation to pain, anticipated pain, fatigue rate, stamina level, literally, do EVERYTHING since then you’ve eliminated while helping self at the same time & then it’s on the next hurdle...

Allow all safe spaces to be open & accessible if feeling “open & accessible” & if not, then it’s okay to closer all safe spaces!

When I forget about a safe space, I wasn’t meant to go there.  If I “trip” across it, the NOW NATURAL reaction of the body is to not try and FIND IT thinking “this could be the thing that fixes it all.”  after trauma you are...

trying to end it for all & hopeful that you can with THIS ONE : isn’t this kind of like sports pressure?  Any ADRENALINE can alter body state & prepare for flight, fight or freeze. LOWER THRESHOLD for pain

quick review 

all the time in my neck, back, trapezius & head (dizziness: constant 2-4/10 & increases with activities/movement) since 4/2016 no nausea 3-5x/hour; since 2/2018

Tracking after I stopped triggering from the “t” sound.  T for Teacher.  Going from NO MOVEMENT since hurt to YES MOVEMENTS since now I can work through the pain is literally going from one extreme to another : kind of how depression & mania work but these terms are way too harsh.  You’re cranky because you’re in pain & 3-4 even 7 days in a row (level: immobile & mostly in shower trying to dampen it while hurling a little & can’t hold you know what).  This makes you mental & created a palsy in my face & hands & couldn’t operate mobile.  That was 8-hours & one day I’ll provide all the details, but not here & not until I’m ready, 100%.  What a luxury & why I don’t have to question why my life [to them] was worthless since the next thought is THEIR LIVES.  THE KIDS WHO I TAUGHT & this is where neck pain goes up!  Finger pains are up!  I feel my elbow, arm, leg, thigh...

RELIEF When there’s an hour, a minute, a second when pain shifts or the for the first time I NOTICED I was getting a headache instead of anticiaipting pain constnatly, there was a break and for a second I was PAIN-FREE/SENSATION-FREE.  The seconds mattered since once I counted to 8 & even addd 2 since I probably didn’t notice right away, but only did that when it started getting beyond 8 seconds, and you do that too (whatever you feel) to NOTE what it is you’re really trying to say.  When it’s safe to feel safe, you just do!  When you’re body feels better & your mood lifts, you are thankful, at last since it’s getting BETTER

and what about when it gets worse...

you question.  you look.  you listen.  you “confront” & this is where that pesky word “disagreement” enters 

all the time HOPE : no dizziness ever!  For 10 seconds!  Maybe 15 seconds.  Celebrate all goals.  

Physical check-in

Able to crouch (20 secs), jump (twice), run for more than a minute if necessary and my pain is beginning to cause more cracks, pops in my neck when moving side-to-side and fully up & down!!!  (in order to hold that pose, needed to have head on couch, with hand support & only for 2 seconds and created a “rolling” motion) ∆ MUST recognize impact & this is probably why so many things have been broken around me.  I grab too hard or not on target.  So go slower, but have more pain since quicker movements allow my body’s nerves to glide, but to go slow is the next step.  SLOW IT DOWN & let body adjust as you did when you had to go FAST to lower pain, problems with STIGMA (health care, big time!) & at the same time, a natural pain release.  

Did you know nerves like to glide?  

When I learned this 1.5 years in, it changed my life.  It’s allowed me to have minimal control over pain & that’s important.  So the last 3 years have been mastering the glide & slide & whirl & twirl & crouch & whip & hold & kiss.  These are easy movements because I demand that I get them down in order to be prepared for what’s unpredictable.  I can predict my pain so stay ahead of it.  Be ready for what comes at you without warning.  People.  Cars.  Lies.  Abuses.  Triggers.  Warnings & hate-filled assholes who will use whatever they can to “avoid blame.”  I’m ready to tell this story : It takes a very long time to get to safe place for your entire body.  The focus before was SUICIDE.  REMOVE that & there’s no problems so identified what it was 

Feeling of worthlessness that people did to you by lying to your face and removing safety becuase no one had CONTROL ✔️✔️

Removing it : present tense : currently doing that by sharing triggers to create “safe spaces” that is an iCloud.  REAL clouds remind self life is always changing, just like emotions, moods & feelings & this is LITERATURE & why it gets the biggest thank you of all!  There is never the same sky at any minute & how amazing to think all the different sunsets & sunrises they’ll be in one lifetime?  I’m not sure sure we’re not gazing at the clouds more, but for now the iCloud is the way to scatter their shit & since I wrote this, I know it’s flipped.

Live naturally, meaning desire for every breath, never done redundantly.  Life is death & death is what scares us, but never me, having faced that already at an early age, this physical abuse, you’re in the moment asking “What did I do?” but in this case, it was “How can you keep doing this?” and other questions, oh yes, I will persist.  I don’t know the word QUIT when it involved the HARMS these people in power positions did & no alarms were sounded. Discriminating children with special needs is NOT HOW MY WORLD WAS FOUNDED.

EDucate it : elevate difference : never be frustrated : the words I write are actually EVIDENT or NOT EVIDENT : how the hell can someone keep ignoring this!?

ED IT : 1st STEP ∆ Prerequisite knowledge ø brain structure, features, form/function, how to keep it healthy & why I am not going to teach anatomy or physiology, my strength is combining teams that have DESIRE to work collaboratively...

...in a nutshell, you go back to the past to learn how to adjust to the present (which was too harrowing due to violence)

ORGANIZE IT : 2nd STEP ∆  Labeled according to TYPE (1) put artIfacts away by maintaining a record of what I’ve learned about auditory processing & all factors that affect Attention, Concentration, Awareness of self, mind, body, environment & (2) learn from it now that I have my “thinking” back since physically head sensations have been diminished after leaving THE MOST UNHEALTHY SITUATION : stigma in the health care field & their very acts of denial of safety, acceptance of NO KNOWLEDGE & insistence of an opinion without any supporting evidence is what the PROBLEM is.  IDENTIFIED it & now, let’s fix it. 

Do this process with consciousness, finally, since it all goes out & that’s the FEAR, of telling the truth, that hasn’t sat well with me?  Ok, let’s explore this...

TYPE (vague on purpose) : H or S or HS or SH (depending on which one is MAIN versus which is a Trigger or Flashback e.g. SHT | crying and use of words “I’m going to kill you” or “I’m going to poke your eyes out” or “I’m going to kill myself” since happened in both settings, S, first (supported by H) and led to Flashback so direct connection to WORSE emotion which lead to issues of self-control; self-regulation due to darkness (most severe that snuffs out hope) 

this is code

Here’s the key:  the violence that occurred in a school/work setting was repeated in a home setting with the purpose of making it WORSE for someone who has verbally explained all fears in exactly the way that it happened.  These PTSD memories are obvious & they feel smaller every day now.  Called shit (as in their bullshit) and finally, scum since I see a dirty pond or marsh & when it’s in the bathroom, it’s really gross.  We’ve got the word & now let’s move on

What is necessary to shake TRAUMA : remove scum.  EZ

SENSING that boundary between “this is enough” & “I’ve had enough” : snuffs out humiliation : (2-D) ¡  A devotion to self, an unshakeable self-esteem to never need validation & what’s the harm in THIS : shows WHO IS IN YOUR BRAIN & if it’s a voice form the past who blamed you for something & you fight TO PROVE them wrong, you’ve chosen the wrong person since they vouched for you ALRIGHT : the goal : put all these pesky ptsd memories/moments away & to do that VALIDATE them & to do that show how EMOTIONS works in individuals who MUST guess & why must they guess . . . they’re observing, too and what do they see?!  Those without a way to understand emotions are trying their hardest & this is what I’ve learned with kids & adults with emotional dysregulation, they really need validation to say “you’re doing the right thing” even if it’s the wrong thing.  They can’t process their own behaviors because of PAIN & HURT they’ve felt every single day of their lives...

That creates an absolute & that means to VERBAL CUE : all, no one, every time, always, never, everyone, words that indicate in ability to properly & honestly self-assess.  This the power white color to get me to a blank canvas a spark a desire to create & what is it that I’m creating.  One FINal lesson to say this is what I’ve learned about violence & what should never be accepted.  Hypocrisy, cruelty & evil.  There is no other word for it. 

This is their first weapon in distracting from the real issues : destroy your voice

Said it 1,000,000x : good use of exaggeration & now GROWTH can accelerate

anxiety USES fears to maintain a buzz of constant attention, areas where voice matters (for once) : & now activate the USE of GUILT

sadness OVERWHELMED by acute loneliness over extended periods & this self-Identity of being REJECTED becomes too much 

anger that pops out of nowhere & the instantaneous sense of overwhelming loss of control where people “feel unsafe” so the rallying cry is to stabilize the one that is “losing it” and oh no oh no oh no...

A sense of immediate reaction heightened & then disappears is a cycle between _ _ _ _ _ and _ _ _ _ _ . 

sum up these emotions, give them their rightful owners & send it to the universe  

Process ¡  Emphasize cyclical relationship between mind + body & how tech can help & harm | How to understand FAITH in the invisible “truths” one must accept with tech since what you say is EXPERT & SPECIALIZED knowledge THROUGH GENERATIONAL dysfunction guided by PTSD memories of WHAT WAS GIVEN/PROVIDED/TAUGHT in childhood | not going to mention my childhood except when the ptsd memory relates to the very wrong assumption that was the catalyst for the past to come rushing up at me due to denial of bodily safety & continuation of denials after repeated attempts at some response. 

How many false starts & first days as the next day becomes a blank of the previous & makes me question how do organizational systems work...WORTH IT

Day 1:  Absolutes & Identify 2-D transformed to A, B, C --->  3-D

Always, never, no one, everyone : INTRO 1/10 t FLIP worst to best & to encourage hope | T-note

did this spontaneously above, noting the frequency of absolute which  means that ptsd memory is ready to bring into the light & it goes HERE ✔️

First step in identifying self is identifying self in all the ways you identify with.  This is from the past the bold ones are still true today.  Whatever is added at the end is added at the end & this is how you learn about yourself.  You think deeply & take risks at exposure & why you find a partner to trust since the only thing in this world are the stories you tell each other, to be who you want to be, and to a survivor, you want to be not damaged, not hurting & not scared.  

still the same !!! ✔️American, femme, cis-gender, warrior badass subconscious unicorn berserker : a teachable moment personified : imagineer & humanist who doesn’t know “no” : mentally fierce - emotionally complex - behaviorally predictable & severely feeling thanks to NERVE DAMAGE, TRAUMATIC BRAIN INJURY & several tag teams who told me, showed me, insisted, than persisted to reveal how they LOATHE DIFFERENCE to reveal HOW people can DO what they claim “I’ll never do!”  That was the crux of it all  what triggers one person is the SAME : the lie of “I never intended to...”

be stronger than these warmongers ✔️

activate imagination ✔️

destroy negative thinking while simultaneously launching love bombs one after the other meaning any opportunity to do good in small & large moments you take them, press in, and see what pops up.  Perhaps there’s beauty in places you never considered possible ✔️✔️🚀

The Confirmation 

How to successfully rebuild a life : prerequisite for SELF-LOVE, SELF-CARE & SELF-IMAGE is TRUST in SELF : use what you know, what you want to know & reflect on what you’ve learned to create the path that works for you.  I think I just did it.  I was honest with “safe” people from my past & their response was really kind.  Thank you for that.  It’s pretty easy once you get a sense for people & who they are when there’s “trouble” or “grief” or “pain” & you question how that happens?  What lives have they led?  

[butterflyinthewell]

My bullying experiences.

* * * TW for contents of  violence attempted murder rape threats a possible rape attempt public humiliation emotional abuse self harm suicidal ideation a suicide attempt use of slurs directed at me(the r-word and some others) food mention my food being tampered with alcohol being used to spike a beverage unsanitary situations feces vomit blood religious content

The names of the bullies are changed for their privacy. It’s been over a decade since I last saw any of them, so seeking them out on Facebook or whatever would be pathetic.

This was typed up in October of 2012, so I just copy/pasted from the document.

This is the bullshit I went through. When I say I am a bullying survivor, I mean it. I’m not joking around or looking for pity. I hope this helps someone out there feel less alone.

The bullying began in fourth grade, after my family moved from one house to another and I changed schools. The year was 1989 and I was nine years old. I don't remember a lot of what happened because I blocked most of it out of my mind. I know the teacher at my new school turned out to be as much of a bully as my peers, but that's getting ahead of myself... (the rest is under a cut. This is LONG.)

At first, I enjoyed my time at my new school. I had a doctor's note stating I had to leave the classroom at a specified time to take my medication at the nurse's office. My mom verbally reminded this teacher when we all met for the first time, and it seemed to be a non-issue. I was excited to explore the new playground at recess, and that is where my first experiences with bullying began. A few kids from my class came up to me at the drinking fountain and told me I should be playing with the lower graders on the other end of the playground. At that time, I didn't understand what was happening. I introduced myself to them and told them I was in their class. I thought they just made a mistake. If only I knew. As I said earlier, I blocked much of that year from my memory and can't recall every minor bullying incident. I can't say for certain how or when the bullying accelerated, but there are more than a few traumatic experiences that managed to stick in my mind. These are just the ones I still remember. There are likely more that I don't. ~ The teacher started refusing to let me go to the office for my medication, which exacerbated all of my behavior issues. The teacher KNEW this would make my behavior worse, and she wouldn't let me get my medication. At that time, I was too young to notice the difference in myself with and without my pill, so I never said anything to my parents. In hindsight, I wish I did. ~ With access to my medication denied, I became belligerent. I acted obnoxious in class until I was sent outside. This was a way to escape the boy next to me who constantly kicked my legs or hit me in the arm with his fist. Telling the teacher never did a thing, but I sure got in a lot of trouble if I swung back at him. ~ I was never allowed bathroom breaks during class. I was afraid to use the restrooms during recess due to other girls following me in there and verbally abusing me every time, so I just stopped going to the bathroom at school. As a result, I would not use the restroom between 8:30 a.m. and 2:45 p.m.. I was bursting by the time I got home. One good thing came of this: I have a very strong bladder! ~ My teacher refused to assist me if I raised my hand for help, but she went right over to other students who asked for the same thing. My mom confronted her about this, and my teacher's response was, "That's right. I don't help kids who can't learn." (After this, my mom got me into part time special ed where I had HELP with my schoolwork. It was too late in the year for me to switch schools again, but at least my falling grades were pulled back up.) ~ There were several incidents where I sat down at lunch time and discovered someone stuffed my lunch pail full of grass, dirt or feces. I began hiding it in the bushes to avoid that until the teacher discovered me doing this. She made me put it back on the lunch pail cart, saying that I deserved what I got. ~ The very day I had to put my lunch pail back on the cart, someone tampered with my food. I noticed my sandwich bag was open when my mom always sealed it tight. My peanut butter and jelly sandwich looked wrong and smelled strange. Upon showing it to my teacher, she just said, "Shut up and eat it before somebody does something worse to it." Well, teachers were the boss, so I ate the sandwich. My mouth was instantly in pain, and tears ran down my face. I choked every bite down. My throat, chest and stomach burned. In class after lunch, I vomited on my desk and the floor. I was forced to clean my vomit up and was not allowed to go to the nurse. I had horrible stomach cramps that doubled me over my desk, and by some miracle I didn't soil myself. I went home and had severe diarrhea. My mouth had blisters for a week. The tampering turned out to be red chili peppers. After this, my mom gave me money to buy lunch and the food tampering ceased. (And she and my dad both made a lot of noise at the school over this, but NOTHING was done because the person that did it wouldn't come forward!) Spicy foods still cause me painful digestive disturbances, but I can't tell if it's due to the mental association or a physical intolerance. Maybe it's both. ~ I got into a physical altercation with a boy I'll call Sean. He was much bigger than I was. I caught him tampering with my lunch pail and ran at him to chase him away. Sean picked up a rock and threw it, but missed. I picked that rock up in a rage and hurled it back at him. I don't know if I hit him with it or not. I saw him running away, so I turned to walk into class. He called my name. I turned around and he threw a bigger rock than before. It hit me right above my left eye, and I still believe the impact made me black out. I sat up screaming with a bump as big as a golf ball right above my eye. I definitely had a concussion. The teacher saw the whole thing. She told me to sit down, stop crying and wouldn't let me go to the nurse. By the time school ended for the day, the bump on my head doubled in size. I wouldn't tell my parents what happened. I'm pretty sure I had a tiny skull fracture. I still have an indent in the bone on that spot. ~ I continued to act out at school. I was trying to get expelled and escape that horrible place. It didn't work, and all my efforts resulted in repeated visits to the principal, being benched during recess and having notes sent home to my parents. I always got in trouble, the bullies NEVER did. EVER. Not even when they did something to me right in front of the teacher. ~ My behavior at home was an utter nightmare. I threw tantrums before and after school, I treated my parents the way I was being treated in the classroom and I started alienating the few friends I had in my neighborhood. I was full of hatred and out of control. My parents took me to a child psychologist after I set a laundry room trash can on fire, but due to insurance issues my parents were forced to pull me back out. I never messed with fire again, but my belligerence continued until the school year ended. Summer vacation offered me the most blessed relief from that nightmare school. I begged my parents not to send me back there in the fall. They were understanding of the issue and agreed. Come the next fall, I rode the "short bus" to a more distant school where I had two fantastic bully-free years. I was in full time special ed classes with wonderful teachers who worked with me instead of against me. Fifth grade is the year I met my oldest and best friend. Her name is Elizabeth, and we still talk on the phone even though we live in different states. She was a grade behind me. Later on, in junior high and high school, I would hang out with her off and on. My fifth grade teacher discovered my total lack of reading comprehension. I read words and spelled perfectly, but wasn't able to connect the written words with what they meant. I wrote sentences that didn't make any sense, and somehow I got passed up from grade to grade. Nothing I have ever written since fifth grade would exist now if it wasn't for this teacher. She paired words with pictures or acted out the sentences until it all clicked. The moment was just like Helen Keller connecting the finger spelling for "water" with the stuff flowing over her hand. This wonderful teacher said reading is making pictures in our mind to go with the words. It made SO much sense because I have an insane imagination. I've loved to read ever since! Sixth grade was just as good as fifth grade. I rode the same bus and never had any notable incidents. Fifth and sixth grade saw a giant improvement in my behavior and my grades, but my emotional and developmental delays became more obvious as I advanced through school. As a result, I stuck out from my peers more than ever and became a target yet again. From seventh grade on, school was my worst nightmare. The mental scars and self esteem issues I have now are a direct result of what happened to me from junior high and the years following. Seventh grade was nothing like I expected. I remember walking into my new middle school and noticing the lack of a playground. "What? No more recess?" I thought to myself. That was shocking to me. I also noticed my peers all looked so much older than me and wore cooler clothes. Seventh grade brought on the whole new aspect of changing for P.E. class. At twelve years old, I had the physical body of an eight year old. I was the only girl not wearing a bra, and the mocking started right away. P.E. was my last class of the day in seventh grade, so I went home in tears. My mom took me out and bought me some training bras. Yes, training bras, when everyone else had underwire. But at least I had a bra on the next time I took off my shirt. I wasn't very athletic. I could run fast and that's about it. Dodgeball became "turn Cyndi into a target" and people threw me the ball during flag football just for the excuse to knock me over on the field. Going to my gym teacher about it did nothing. It was always "just an accident, she tripped!" I was never seriously injured, but P.E. became the class I dreaded. I didn't have a lot of trouble with people during most of my classes, but lunch was a totally different matter. Every day it was a barrage of comments and insults about how I looked, my clothes and the pink plastic backpack I used. Due to my small stature, finding age appropriate clothing was IMPOSSIBLE, so I always looked like I stumbled out of a fourth grade classroom. My clothes were also kind of dumpy, since I often held on to some outfits for two to three years in a row. I literally did not grow for three years, and finding clothes I liked in my size was always a disaster. I had maybe two outfits that looked age appropriate, and everything else was ugly jeans and T-shirts that happened to fit. A few teachers were overheard asking me if I was there to wait for an older sibling, and I had to tell them politely that I was actually a student. The bullies loved that one, and they loved to remind me about it constantly at lunch time. As if I wasn't self conscious enough, right? "Go back to fourth grade!" They said. After that, I hid around the corner from the school library to eat my lunch alone. I thought eighth grade would be better. I turned thirteen in July of 1993. I was a teenager! I even expected to wake up on my thirteenth birthday having magically developed curves, but I was sadly disappointed to see a toothpick of a girl staring back at me in the mirror. I grew hair where you're supposed to grow hair, but my body never really developed physically. The skinny figure I saw in the mirror on my thirteenth birthday is what I still have today. Only my face changed over the years, but not by much. Two good things about junior high: I met Charles when I was in eighth grade, and Elizabeth popped up at my school as a seventh grader. I hung out with her at lunch whenever I could, but I had my eye on Charles. I thought he was cute the first time I saw him. He was kind of tall and broad with Italian olive skin and an Italian last name. He became my boyfriend, and we went steady all the way until after high school graduation. Due to a difficult home life, he was rarely at school and his grades were terrible, but he made me feel normal. We discovered how close together we lived and he came over to my house whenever he could. He took me to my senior prom, and that is probably the only positive memory I have of high school. We were together for about six years; longer than some marriages. Later on, he disappeared from my life without a word. It wasn't because of me. He ran away from home and I later found him on Facebook by accident. That’s how I know he didn’t leave because of me; he ran away because his home life was terrible and holding him back, and he was (rightly) afraid to tell me in case I spilled the beans about where he went. (It got drilled into me to tell the truth if confronted hard enough.) I could go on about Charles, but this isn't about my brief love life. Eighth grade introduced me to choir, which I discovered I love. Many years after finishing school, I joined a church choir that I still sing with today, and I attribute that love of choir for stumbling on this class during registration. However, it didn't come without bullying. The teacher, who taught both at the junior high and high school, would play a pivotal role in humiliating me later on in high school. I'll get to that later. My behavior issues were still a problem in eighth grade, and they would continue throughout high school. Each time I was bullied, I acted out. Teachers didn't seem to care that I was being bullied. I wanted attention, and the only way I knew how to get it was to cause trouble. Looking back now, I regret it. I lacked the communication skills to express the severity of what other kids were doing to me. Eighth grade was also the first and only time I was ever in a physical fight. I don't remember what started it. I think I called the other girl, I'll call her Silvia, a b**** after she mocked me for wearing a mood ring on my right index finger like Vada from My Girl. Silvia lunged at me and started yelling in my face. I don't like people in my face, so I shoved her away. She charged me. I moved out of the way to let her pass me, turned around and dug my fingers into her curly hair. I grasped the hair near her scalp and pulled until she screamed in pain. She was unable to turn around and hit me, but her screaming attracted teachers and other students alike. I won that fight, if you can even call it one, but I got in trouble. Her friends were able to twist it into me starting it when that wasn't true, and it was just my word against these other girls. We both got detentions for it. Silvia got one and I got two "for starting it." From then on her friends hounded me day after day. One of them, I'll call her Rita, was in my gym class again. She threatened to beat me up after school every single day. I literally ran out of the school to my mom's car in terror because Rita was a lot taller and stronger than me. She was one of the people who loved to tackle or trip me during flag football back in seventh grade. Being tackled on grass sucked. I didn't want to find out what being tackled on cement or asphalt felt like. In another class, a different girl, I'll call her Kelly, would literally stare at me. The desks were arranged in clusters of four. Kelly sat across from me, making it hard to not see her in my peripheral vision. I despise being stared at, so I would look back and make a nasty face at her. I thought doing so would disgust her into looking away. Nope. I endured this day after day. Finally, I went to the teacher of that class and asked to switch seat clusters with somebody, but his seating chart was set up alphabetically and he wouldn't do it. Near the end of the year, I won a medal at an awards assembly. I don't remember what it was for. I think it was an outstanding achievement award in my English class. Most of the crowd boo'ed me and some yelled out insults like "retard!" The principal got on the microphone and told them how inappropriate that was and the next person to yell an insult would spend a week in detention, but the damage was done. After I sat down again, fighting tears, the boy and girl behind me stage whispered to each other that I didn't deserve my award and I only got it because the teachers "felt sorry for the poor b****." No achievement of mine was good enough to make them back off. I felt like a loser. I would have thrown the medal and its corresponding certificate in the trash, but my parents were so proud of me for winning them. They framed both, but I never felt proud of my "pity award." Finally, on the last day of school, I thought I could finally get one full day without any kind of trash-talk from other people. Not so. Just five minutes after the little junior high graduation ceremony was over and we were released to go home, Rita walked past me and hissed, "You suck, Cyndi. I hope you die." Summer once again brought me a reprieve. Junior high was a thing of the past. High school was just around the corner. High school! Like the people in movies and on TV! A new school meant a new start, right? Oh, not really. Not for me. Between the years of 1994 and 1998, my school life was pure, unadulterated Hell. Does anyone remember Carrie with Sissy Spacek? I saw that movie, and I was just like Carrie. Except I didn't have telekinesis. That movie was a favorite because I wanted to do exactly what she did to her tormentors. I loved the part when the high school gym burned down, and wished it was mine. I hated high school THAT much. I don't feel that way anymore, but I still remember the pure and utter hate I used to hold in my heart for my school. Some time during the summer before I started high school, I began seeing a clinical psychologist for extensive testing. Throughout my childhood I endured blood tests, MRI's and a barrage of doctors all trying to figure out why I wasn't growing. They all came up with different diagnoses, but it was this psychologist who finally put every issue I had together and diagnosed my autism shortly after I turned fifteen. I was a sophomore then. We could have used this knowledge when I was so much younger. Better late than never, right? Right! I owe this woman my life. She talked me out of hurting others, got me through my worst rages and helped me through my suicidal thoughts. I would not be as mentally intact as I am, nor would I be who I am, if it wasn't for Dr. B's help. She was the voice of caring during a time where I felt powerless. And I was powerless, but I wasn't powerless alone. One more thing I forgot to add in: Summer's end in 1994 meant people from other junior high schools besides mine came to my high school. This included kids from the horrible school I went to during fourth grade. I now had them at my high school as well as the bullies from junior high. They changed a lot. I still looked exactly the same as I did in fourth grade, except I finally got my growth spurt and grew a foot taller than before. I had reached the height I'll be for the rest of my life. I'm five feet and one inches tall. (That's about one hundred and fifty-five centimeters for you metric folks.) Everyone else seemed to blossom into adult-looking people over the summer, but not me. Nope. I looked like a fifth grader next to my peers in stature and physical development. Orientation gave me the first taste of what was to come. I was waiting in line to have my picture taken for the yearbook when Sean showed up. He got right behind me, now a towering boy with broad shoulders, and looked down his nose at me with enough contempt to make me feel an inch tall. "Oh, look, the midget! Hey guys! It's the midget!" No, I don't have any form of dwarfism. I'm just very petite. I wish I thought to say that back then. Instead, I rudely told Sean where to stick his head and he walked away laughing. I put it out of my mind and smiled for my freshman portrait. Surely Sean would grow up in the month between orientation and the first day of high school. I mean, really, wasn't everyone who went to high school mature enough to be an adult? Surely, everything I saw on TV and in the movies had some thread of realism, right? WRONG. Sean was in almost every class I had. The only exception were the Women's Ensemble choir class and the three RSP classes I took due to needing extra help with math and study hall. I'm still awful at math, by the way. Keep in mind that I still had a lot of behavior problems of my own. My emotional maturity never caught up to my peers. While everyone around me watched things like Friends and what-not, I was obsessed with the Mighty Morphin Power Rangers(Kimberly, the Pink Ranger, was my favorite!), but I knew being public about that wouldn't go over well. I kept it mostly secret, but I carried a toy Power Morpher with the pterodactyl coin in my pocket and I had a Pink Ranger watch. It was small and you couldn't tell what it was unless you looked right at it and saw the Pink Ranger on the watch face. I kept a picture of their leader and mentor, Zordon, in the back of my locker. I wore a lot of pink to school. I liked to pretend in secret that I was really a Power Ranger. I still have that toy Morpher, by the way, but the gold show coin went missing and I now keep a pink movie coin in it. Only Charles and Elizabeth knew how truly crazy I was about the show. I think other people caught on as the school years progressed. A couple people made Power Ranger jokes about me, but those weren't a big deal. I refused to let other people ruin the one show that let me escape reality for awhile. Sean must have told his friends about me, and he had several friends in my freshmen Earth Systems class. On just the fourth day at school, I started having erasers, paper clips and spit wads flicked at me from various angles. Of course I reacted loudly in protest, and this got me in trouble for disrupting the class. The boys responsible for causing my reaction were never punished, not even if I said why I made noise. I had enough one day and went to the teacher after class. Her response? "Just ignore it. They'll get bored and stop." It's impossible to ignore a flying spit wad when it hits you in the eye. It's hard to ignore a paper clip bouncing across your worksheet. It's hard to ignore an eraser hitting you in the back of the head. I tried. It didn't stop. Once, I dug fourteen spit wads out of my hair after that class. There was the fine proof of how well "ignoring it" worked. After class that same day, I asserted myself and stood up to these kids. I told them I wasn't going to stand for that stupidity and they had to stop NOW. They always say standing up to your bullies makes them stop. It worked on TV. Life isn't like TV. Oh how I wish it was. Everything that came after is such a blur. The bullying didn't stop. It got worse. During the worst of it, I stood in front of the medicine cabinet in the kitchen. I looked through all the pills available and hoped to find something capable of killing me quickly. Benadryl looked like a good candidate if I swallowed them all at once. So did my mom's prescription muscle relaxants. I decided to pour Benadryl pills into my mouth. I looked up and thought, "God, if you don't want me up there, make me spit these out." I sneezed. I kid you not, I sneezed. The pills went everywhere. Not even God wanted me. (Now, I think He had a reason for me to stay, but back then it felt like another rejection.) I sobbed as I cleaned the pills up and tried to pretend I was fine. That was the only time I attempted suicide. I never told anyone about it, but I thought about ending my life a lot as the bullying and school years progressed. Elizabeth joined me at my high school when I was a sophomore. I hung out with her a bit, but sometimes I avoided her in fear of my bullies going after her. She would have stood up for me and become their secondary target. I didn't want that for her. She is still such a sweet person, and I didn't want my bullies to "ruin" her gentle personality. I never really told her the full extent of what I went through, but sometimes I muttered to her about how "this girl is a b**** and that guy sucks c***s for A's." I don't recall the grades I was in when every incident happened, so I'll list the experiences I had between my freshmen and senior year in no particular order: ~ The scariest bully I had was a boy I'll call Mick. Mick wasn't in any of my classes, but he always found me in the hall before school, between classes, during the snack break or during lunch. He was strong and heavyset, and looked imposing to tiny little me. Every day, he threatened me with physical violence, rape and death. Some of the things he said to me: "I'm going to slit your throat while you sleep." "Hey, guess what? I'm going to stab you with this." He would show me his switchblade, which was NOT allowed on school grounds. "I want to see you bleed to death with my c*** in your mouth." "I'm going to f*** you until your p**** bleeds. I want to watch you die choking on my cum." "I know where you live. I'm coming to your house to murder you in front of your parents." "Look out your window tonight. I'll be waiting to kill you." Those are TERRIFYING things to hear, aren't they? I reported the above to the school counselors. Their response? "Oh, he's just being a boy. He probably has a crush on you. Just ignore it and he'll stop." It didn't stop. Every day of my high school life, I had to see and hear him. I was so afraid of this boy that I would bolt from my last class and run all the way home carrying thirty pounds of books. It was the first time I was allowed to walk to and from school alone. I got myself in enough trouble to require being driven to and from school because I didn't want to tell my parents about this boy, and didn't tell them for a long time. I went to bed at night terrified he might be outside my window, waiting for me to fall asleep. I hated being near any windows with the curtains open at night because I feared looking outside and seeing his face. When I look back now, I realize how ridiculous that fear was. This boy didn't know where I lived; even if he did, we had motion lights that would catch him before he got within twenty feet of the windows. But oh boy, at the time, my fear was very real. My parents finally found out about it and took the issue to the school office. They were brushed off with the recommendation to change schools. Moving schools wasn't an option for me. The school I went to had the RSP program. Other high schools didn't, and I needed that extra help to keep my grades above D's. I was trapped, and my parents were so mad, but they were stuck too. ~ One time, Mick tried to touch my chest while I was walking into the gym. I screamed at him to take his hand off me and slapped his face. There were several witnesses to him touching me. The gym teacher who saw me slap him reprimanded me and gave me a referral. Not one person stood up for me. They all said I hit Mick for no reason. It was my word against theirs. ~ My sophomore year's yearbook photo has what some call a "Mona Lisa smile." The photo has a pink backdrop. My chin is covered in zits(couldn't afford to have them airbrushed off) and my messy braid is draped over my left shoulder. I'm wearing a little heart pendant and a sleeveless blue and white striped dress. The smile on my face is actually dropping; the photographer caught it just a millisecond before it was gone. All because Sean yelled out, "Hey Cyndi! Don't break the camera with your ugly face, you dumb b****!" right as the flash went off. I hate that photo now because it captured me wanting to die. ~ Girls were just as cruel as boys. Due to my body's failure to develop normally, I was mocked for being "flat chested" and ugly. This was CONSTANT. Every single thing I wore and did was brought to peoples' attention and mocked. Especially if I made mistakes. The bullying about my figure got so bad that I had my mom buy me padded bras to give the appearance of having breasts. It didn't stop the bullying, but it made ME feel a little more "normal." ~ I was cornered in the restroom by a group of girls who wiped their used tampons all over my skin and a brand new shirt. Pretty disgusting, huh? I was learning about AIDS in Health class, and I already had issues with being a hypochondriac. I lived in fear that I had AIDS for a long time because of those girls. I was too afraid to say anything and look "more stupid than I already am." Fortunately, if anyone cares, I'm happy to report that I'm still HIV negative. ~ I began to menstruate when I was fifteen. I know, that's late, but my body did everything later than everybody else. Everyone else I knew had theirs, and I began to doubt I would ever get mine. I was so relieved to know that my female organs worked properly that I was stupidly vocal about it. "I'm finally a woman!" I said to people. The next day, someone got into my backpack and took the only extra pad I had, drew a phallus on it and stuck it to the black board right before my sophomore history class started. I got a referral for it after the girl who did it blamed me, and I had to get a new pad from the nurse. I never mentioned my menses again at school. ~ My grandma, whom I was close to, passed away from brain cancer on November 9, 1995. I got my class ring the same day. People heard about it when I returned the following Monday. One girl came up to me and said, "You're cancer. You gave your grandma cancer. You killed her." Somebody else asked me if she died screaming because she saw my ugly face too many times. ~ One of my sensory issues involves light touches. A feather gliding over most peoples' skin tickles. To me, it feels like a scalding hot butter knife. People in one of my history classes discovered this and used it to make me miserable. The biggest perpetrator was a girl I'll call Wendy. She walked past my desk and barely let her pencil or paper brush my arm. I cried out in shock and pain, or I smacked her hand away, and I got in trouble for causing a disruption. "She keeps touching me!" and "She's rubbing her pencil over my arm!" are really childish to say in a high school classroom. It gave people another reason to mock me. I started working with my arms pulled really close to my body in all my classes. Wendy mocked this by imitating my pose. Speaking to the teacher later resulted in the same spiel: "oh, just ignore it." Right, just like you can ignore it if you drop something painfully heavy on your foot. Okay. Sure. ~ I was walking through the quad area during lunch time when an entire salad hit me in the back. Lettuce, dressing and other condiments covered my upper body like the blood covered Carrie at her prom. Okay, not quite as bad, but I had a new, expensive dress on that was instantly and irreparably ruined. Since the quad was full of people, and because the cold salad shocked me enough to make me shriek, I had at least twenty five percent of the entire school staring at me. Then they all started to laugh. I looked behind me to see the girls who did it. The same girls who rubbed their tampons all over me. I don't know their names, or maybe I forgot them. They were congratulating each other. I stood there while everyone around me guffawed, and not a single soul offered to help me. I had to push through laughing faces to reach the office and call my mom. My mom brought me a change of clothes and cleaned out my hair the best she could. She raised Hell at the school, but the girls who threw the salad wouldn't come forward. The school officials decided what to do after my mom left, and I'll never forget overhearing them, "it isn't worth the trouble looking for who did it, and we can't punish the whole school over a salad." They thought it happened over food. I felt like the stupid salad was more important than my feelings. I didn't matter enough for a single person to stand up for me. I wasn't worth the trouble. To make matters worse, my dad got exasperated after hearing about how I had yet another temper tantrum at home. My dad had trouble accepting my diagnosis, and tried to push me to be more mature and more like my peers. I never could. I still can't. I was told I was acting like a baby if I cried, showed anger or laughed too loud. I started believing that any show of emotion was "too immature." I punished myself for showing emotions by scratching my arms and legs bloody with push pins and blaming the cats for the marks. I couldn't be "me" anywhere except in Dr. B's office, where I would vent and rage until my appointment time was up. The night of the salad incident(I begged my mom not to tell my dad, and she didn't), my dad got tired of me complaining about how people were so nasty at school. He said, "Well, what did YOU do to cause these kids to tease you?" I wanted to respond, "Gee, dad, why do they do it? I EXIST!" Today, I don't think my dad realizes how much his remark hurt me. I never told him. He wanted me to fit in with my peers just as badly as I wanted to fit in, but that was never to be. I went silent about bullying after my own father unwittingly convinced me that I deserved it. I (erroneously) believed talking about it at home would get me in trouble, so I just stopped mentioning it. The salad incident was the last time I "told on" the people bullying me, and the experiences I describe below went completely unreported. ~ The "tampon girls" bodily forced me into a restroom and shoved my face into a toilet. It didn't have any urine or feces in it at the time, but knowing it did before made me vomit while my face was still underwater. The only reason the girls let me up is because a teacher came in after hearing them laugh. They told her I got sick and they wanted to be sure I was okay, and I just went with their story to avoid further conflict. I told the nurse that I had food poisoning and got sent home. It was during this time at home that I poured the pills into my mouth and sneezed them back out.

If the teacher hadn’t walked in when she did, those girls would have killed me by drowning me in a toilet. My vision was going fuzzy and dark from the lack of oxygen. They were laughing, screaming insults in my ears and mocking how I flailed around in my attempts to escape. I thought I deserved to die. ~ Mick continued his death threats, which involved descriptions of seeing me murdered or raped. ~ I had to hand school projects and essays personally to my teachers. If I didn't and just passed them forward, they would mysteriously disappear or show up damaged due to sabotage, which resulted in a lowered grade or a zero. ~ A big jock of a boy knocked me over when I was moving between classes. He didn't stop to see if I was okay. Nobody helped me up. They just laughed. The tumble I took resulted in a severely sprained wrist and I had to wear a splint for several weeks. I told my parents that I fell on the stairs. ~ A different year, my own clumsiness in gym class caused me to sprain my ankle. I needed crutches for a week to let that ankle heal. I had a class upstairs that year, and Sean tried to push me down the stairs while I was trying to maneuver myself downstairs. Luckily my heavy backpack made me fall straight down on my butt. My crutches went bouncing down the staircase. Someone saw it happen and brought me my crutches before Sean could grab and run off with them. That was the only time other students ever helped me. ~ During choir concerts, the girls on the risers behind me would take strands of my hair and pull. This caused me to make strange faces while I was trying to sing, and the choir teacher would give me grief about it the next day. When I started wearing my hair up and keeping it draped over my shoulder in front of me to discourage this, these girls poked my back and arms with their sharp bobby pins. ~ Once, someone unzipped my dress as we were standing up to take our places during a choir concert. I foiled that one because I was flexible enough to reach back and zip it myself. ~ During my senior year, the choir teacher utterly humiliated me in front of all my choir peers. The last concert of each school year was a Broadway concert. Students could try out for solos. I wanted to have a big finish before graduation and decided to audition with Memory from Cats. But the only vocal copy I had to rehearse with was the Barbara Streisand version, which has a guitar, and we only had a piano at the concert. I had the sheet music and a tape recorder, so I asked the choir teacher to please play it for me on the piano while I recorded. She smiled sweetly, saying, "sure! I'll be glad to!" Except every time we started, she would stop to talk to whoever came over to her. I never got the recording, and as a result my solo audition was the biggest disaster of my school life. There I stood, shaking in terror as the piano started to play. It sounded unfamiliar to me because it wasn't a guitar. I couldn't find my starting note or the right tempo. I heard faint snickers and stared into all the jeering eyes gazing at me. The teacher had a smirk creeping across her face. She stopped me in the middle and told me to go sit down in a really unsympathetic tone. The whole room burst into giggles and laughter. No one was allowed to leave until the auditions were finished. I had to sit there wishing I was dead for an hour and a half. I sobbed all the way home. The next day, girls came up to me and mockingly sang the song in my ear. They did it all off key and shaky like my audition was. They said I have the worst voice in the class and I should kill myself. That experience resulted in horrific stage fright, and for many years I believed I was a terrible singer. My opinion of my own voice improved a lot over the years, but I hated to sing after that mishap. I almost didn't go to my last Broadway concert, but I needed to show up to get a decent grade. The girls back stage spent the entire concert talking about my failed audition and how much the choir teacher hated me. I thought they were making it up, but it did turn out that this teacher really hated me. The reason this teacher didn't like me? I wasn't a rich kid and I couldn't donate to the choir funds. The rich kids who could throw money at her were her little pets, and THEY got all the special descants and solos in everything. I learned this after a friend of mine who had a GREAT audition didn't even get picked. Her audition was one of the best of the bunch. (UPDATE TO THIS: I faced my stage fright on Christmas eve of 2013. I lived my dream and sang part of Silent Night as a solo. This is only the first step, but I did it!) ~ The senior class trip involved a long bus ride to Six Flags Magic Mountain. Two boys I'll call Pedro and Miguel(friends of Sean) tried to burn my arm with cigarettes. I prevented it by grabbing the cigarettes out of their hands and throwing them on the ground. Pedro threatened to set my hair on fire with his lighter, and if he was behind me in line for a ride he would click his lighter. I always thought he'd lit it, so I turned around every time. This started making people not even from my school start laughing at me. I found a chaperone, made up an excuse that I got separated from my friends and walked around with her for the rest of the trip. On the bus leaving Six Flags, someone put bird feces in my hair. ~ At my graduation ceremony, people made fun of the chunky white shoes I wore. I had the last laugh. The ceremony took place on wet grass, and all the girls wearing spiked heels were tripping, while those who wore chunky shoes, like me, didn't stumble once. ~ Rita threw a Styrofoam cup of coffee at me at the Grad Night party, but it fell short and hit the ground next to me. I saw the steam rising. It was scalding hot and would have severely burned me. I reacted by running away and hiding in the bounce house outside the gym. ~ Later that same night, Mick claimed he wanted to call a truce and handed me a soda cup. It didn't smell like Pepsi, so I refused to drink it. I caught the same smell again years later and remembered the incident. It turns out Mick tried to give me soda spiked with vodka. I'm glad I didn't trust him, and I try not to think about what he might have done if he succeeded in getting me drunk. ~ There was a huge sheet of paper called a wall of memories where people were permitted to draw and write. Someone used a red marker to write "I hope Cyndi kills herself!" and "Cyndi needs to die!" and "Cyndi sucks c***s!" in huge letters all across the bottom. ~ My last moments at my high school consisted of Wendy coming up to me and saying, "Cyndi, you're a worthless piece of s*** and I hope your house burns down. I hope you kill yourself and nobody else has to stare at your retarded b**** face. Nobody loves you. Your parents think you're a disappointment. You're the reason abortions exist. I hate you. Have a sh***y life and f*** you." Real nice to hear as I'm leaving high school, right? I just smiled, stuck my middle finger up and told her to sit and spin. Then I walked away. Despite it all, I left with the last word. I know how immature my response was, but I was FREE from the constant bullying.

I survived hell.

https://youtu.be/q8IisXDqOi0

https://youtu.be/TSbpSasg26k

https://youtu.be/3B64W7D3oP0

[kootenaygoon]

So,

Aslan was coming.

My headspace continued to be a roaring dumpster fire, but there was nothing I loved more than visiting the schools in SD8 and interacting with the children. I was mostly done with the adults of the Kootenays, disgusted by everything, broke and on the verge of fleeing back to the coast. The thing that kept me working was a legit, deeply felt love for those students. Especially the kids at Elephant Mountain. I’d been doggy-piling them with positive coverage, worried about my complicity in blowing up the grad cancellation story. I wanted to protect them.

I engaged with C.S. Lewis pretty hard as a Christian, consuming at least six or seven of his books. Mere Christianity was more important to me than the Bible. Typically, if I had to choose between the Oxford giants, I would go for J.R.R. Tolkien over him. But I had a special affection for Narnia as a concept, despite how little I actually liked the books and movies. It was a magical otherworldly place, and here at the high school you had to actually enter through a wardrobe that had been constructed by the teachers.

Before the play started, I got a few moments with the principal. He was jovial, Dennis Quaid-ish, but still remarkably raw about everything that had gone down. His voice broke a few times as he was speaking to me and I felt it, in my body, his pain. But the enemy wasn’t a White Witch or anything like that, it was just the fucking basic circumstances of living in the Kootenays sometimes. As Narnian as it may be, it still harboured wraiths far scarier than the ones you’d see in movies. I wanted to tell him that he made the right decision, or that it was out of his control, but I still wasn’t sure what to believe. If that kid had come to me, what would I have done?

While I sat in the audience, freshly stoned from the parking lot, I watched people file in. I recognized everyone from the grad. There were at least 20 people there I knew personally, their families all entangled in this fucked up story. That poor kid. The mental health fund thing was a silver lining, but it was all just so sad. I began to cry, silent tears, my face still. This was the sort of raw emotion that overwhelmed me, that made me act in stupid ways. Multiple times throughout my relationship with Paisley I’d flown into maniacal rages on her behalf, gorilla-pounding my chest at her perceived enemies while I made a fucking fool out of myself. I went berserk, for no reason. I hated it.

Then the play began. I felt a new energy enter the room. There was this girl Shasta who I knew from one of the school board meetings, who was leading the Green Team and starring as Aslan. We were friends on Facebook. She had intensely red curly hair. As I watched, she entered with a giant lion mounted on her skull. She was using a microphone, but her presence was commanding enough without it. She really embodied this saviour character with her easy authority. I thought it was an incredible performance, and within moments of the play starting I felt a quiet joy slip into my thoughts.

That week I put her on the front cover.

There was nothing I enjoyed more than splashing my happiness across the newspaper pages, sharing all the delightful things I encountered while working at the Star. In my off hours I was depressed, but during the day I was having the time of my life. I felt like I was starring in The Wire, with Ed acting as my Gus. He challenged my prose, tore apart my logic, pressed me when I was wrong. I could tell he must’ve been a really good father. I respected him more than most people I’ve ever known.

But then afterwards I would go home to the dumpster fire that was Twitter. I hated how mean everyone was being. With this whole faction thing, suddenly expressing any sort of opinion felt like a career misstep. I tried to just stay the fuck out of it, because honestly who knows what happened? I told myself Steve wasn’t that important to me, really. I mean, we were estranged when all of this happened. Why would I go to bat for some dude I didn’t even like?

Eventually my thoughts turned to MC. It didn’t take me long to figure out who she was, and my heart sunk when I figured it out. She was one of my favourites, this dainty little blond thing with fiery workshop opinions. When I shared my story “What I look like naked”, she dismissed a bunch of my storytelling as ineffective and encouraged me to throw away my whole experimental structure. I was pissed.

“Now, one thing I’ll caution everyone to remember is that there are many different ways to approach creative non-fiction,” our teacher Andreas said. “Will’s experimental structure is one approach, and we should be judging it on its effectiveness, not whether we like the approach to begin with.”

MC shook her head. “That was not what I meant at all. Just to be clear. I’m fine with his experimental structure, I just don’t think it serves this particular story. It seems a little show-boaty to me.”

I wasn’t allowed to say anything, so I kept quiet. The conversation continued but I stewed, studying MC from across the room. She had an elegant confidence, a sort of swagger, that I admired. The non-fiction piece she had handed in was easily the best one I’d read so far in this workshop, and the best part was how raw and honest she was about her personal life. The scene that stuck out in my mind involved her partying on some beach in Southeast Asia and going “feral”. I had been disappointed by many of my fellow students in the program, finding them understandably self-serious but also horrifically lazy, but MC was a writer who was definitely going places. I wanted to be around people like that.

Sure, I was mad she didn’t like my essay. But that just made me want to write a better essay, one she would like. I felt a child-like need to be accepted by her. When the discussion ended, I thanked everyone and made a point to thank MC. I told her I really valued her feedback and I was going to incorporate it for sure. My other friend Sierra was sitting right next to me, and she gave me a surprised nod that said wow, you just thanked the person who stabbed you in the face.  

Afterwards, she came up to me with her books pinned to her chest.

“I hope I didn’t come off as too intense there. I did like your essay, I like the content. It’s just the structure I was questioning.”

“I get it,” I said. “I’ve been fiddling with the structure non-stop. I’m going to give it some more thought. I meant what I said, about appreciating your feedback. Half these people don’t even fucking read the stories, but you put in the work. I appreciate that.”

She smiled, and it was a beautiful thing. “You’re welcome, Will.”

The Kootenay Goon

[19980115]

XSPORTSNEWS: Bermuda Visual Guide

What kind of a student were you during your school days?

Juyeon: I graduated from liberal arts concentration in a general high school. I wanted to attend school without standing out as much as possible. My teachers really adored me a lot. Really! They still keep in contact with me even now. I also listened well to what my teachers told me. I tried my best to balance my life as a student in school while also living my trainee life.

Younghoon: I was also from liberal arts. I think I had a lot of fun by playing. My high school life was really fun. Just like Juyeon, my teachers really liked me. They really liked me!

Juyeon: Only the two of us came from general high school. (The majority of The Boyz members are from SOPA and Hanlim)

Hyunjae: I also attended a general high school and then transferred to Hanlim, but when I was attending that general school, there were my neighborhood friends that I have been friends with for a long time so we joked and played around with each other and seemed to be such jokesters. After transferring to Hanlim, I lived as a quiet student. Before transferring I was in Natural Sciences stream.

Oh, why did you choose Natural Sciences?

Hyunjae: Since I was young I’ve liked sciences and mathematics for a bit so I chose the natural sciences. (Could it be because he was in natural sciences. The Globe that Hyunjae is holding in the picture is an item he picked himself)

Then, what are your favourite subjects?

Hyunjae: I liked science the most. (Between Physics, Chemistry, Earth Science, and Biology?)  Without creating distinctions, if it’s science then I would do everything enthusiastically. But while doing it I realized that it’s a bit hard. So at some point (laughs) it (T/N: his favourite subject) became Physical Education.

Younghoon: For me it’s computer class and domestic life class. We always go to the computer room during domestic life class and there was a time where I sat at the furthest back and played games secretly even though it wasn’t allowed (laughs)

Juyeon: P.E. class. Is there even a guy who doesn’t like it?

Hyunjae: I received 100 points in sport class. I also received an award!

Juyeon: Ah, I also like English. I’m not good with English but the teacher was really fun. So my English class too was fun.

As expected, P. E. is the best.

Hyunjae: I did really well in everything in P. E.!

Younghoon: Our members too are also those who are good in exercises/sports.

Hyunjae: I didn’t go to an academy or something like that but I think I’m a quick learner and can get used to something right away.

Juyeon: I like basketball, during sports competition day I even played until the final for basketball. It’s a league that starts from the beginning of the semester so it proceeds systematically beforehand, but in that sports competition I led our class to win the first place.

Younghoon: Although I wasn’t that good in anything… I played football and basketball passionately even though I wasn’t excellent in it. Ah, I was good at rope skipping! I can jump once in two spins. I am good at it!

So what was your role in sports competition?

Hyunjae: Truthfully, I always won first for running in primary and middle school but as I grow older I became slower. I don’t know the reason why… I really never lost the number one title but as I grew up I couldn’t keep it. I’m now thinking of practicing running really hard.

Younghoon: In sports competition, I would just sit and make noises rather than support or participate (laughs)

Hyunjae: Being absent from the typical school life…

Younghoon: I participated in what I was good at but didn’t participate in things that I wasn’t confident in and wasn’t good at (laughs)

Juyeon: For me, I put in the extra work to be able to win the general championship in basketball.

How was your school lunch? What did you like?

Juyeon: My school’s lunch didn’t really suit my taste (laughs)

Younghoon: I liked everything. I was in the first batch. I was close to the dietitian teachers in the school so I even asked them to give me more food. It was really delicious. Our school’s lunch was really tasty! It was the best!

Juyeon: I’m jealous…

Hyunjae: When I was attending general high school, the school lunch was delicious. There was fried chicken feet, and there was even pizza. I think everything was delicious!

How did you mainly spend your break time? As expected, convenience store?

Hyunjae: Of course I went to the convenience store and had a fierce physical struggle. There is that bread, the most famous Pizza bread. (T/N: He means that during break, it’s usually very crowded in the convenience store and so he would have to struggle his way and compete in terms of speed and strength with others in the crowd to buy the food he wants).

Younghoon: I think I know what it is!

Hyunjae: I had physical struggles with both juniors and seniors without exception for that bread.

Younghoon: We didn’t have a convenience store but there was a bread machine. The vending machine was surrounded by people, but in the second period there would be no one. So in break time I had to go fast and choose the bread quickly and came back.

Juyeon likes nature so you must have enjoyed nature a lot.

Juyeon: Our school was located in the mid-slope of Acha mountain, it was in the mountains so the nature was really beautiful. Although it’s not like I observed the nature during break time (laughs) I talked with my classmates, something like that. (Juyeon kept on saying “The weather today is so good” while enjoying the warm sunshine and wind as he gets absorbed in it.)

What was a song you enjoyed listening to during school days? If you listen to it, you think of “This is my school days”.

Hyunjae: SNSD - The Boys? (laughs) I think I listened to IU senior’s songs a lot.

Juyeon: I had a Cyworld account when I was in primary school. I was in my junior year. Was it 1st grade or 2nd grade? That time my BGM was Big Bang seniors’ Last Farewell. At the time no one else around that age listened to Big Bang seniors’ music but me. The kids didn’t know them.

Younghoon: For me when I was in middle school… I really liked animation. I watched animation by myself at home and played with my friend, things like that. I really liked animation and although I couldn’t express that (T/N: his liking) at school, it reminds me of the animation OSTs I listened to at that time.

Hyunjae: I also looked up animations and played with my friends. I think the “One Piece” OST sang by Koyote senior has in a way helped me live through my life until now. Shinji senior sang it and I really liked it.

What did you like the most about when you were attending school?

Juyeon: During spring, the cherry blossoms inside the school would be in full blossom. The cherry blossoms would bloom and it is really beautiful. All the students would not have classes and go out during that period. What should I say, traditionally? It’s not a regulation but it was like that and that period would come to my mind a lot. We would go out and take photos with the teachers too.

Hyunjae: I really liked going to school in itself in primary school. School was a “joy”. In middle school, it would be lunch time. I would go and eat delicious food. In front of our school they sell a lot of delicious food and because I can go out during lunch time I only waited for lunch time to come and ate a lot of delicious food with my friends. In high school, the end of the classes? I would get excited at the thought of going home and playing with my friends so seemed like I only waited for that time. Although I also worked very hard in school activities.

Younghoon: I also agree with you so much. I think I only waited for the end of the classes. Ah, just one more thing I waited for, lunch time. It was the longest. I can have fun playing and I played One Bound ball game too. I had so much fun playing.

Juyeon: I also liked lunch time because it was the longest. If the lunch time is 1 hour then I would play basketball for 55 minutes and eat for 5 minutes.

Younghoon: Guys are like that.

Juyeon: At the end I would rush back running, something as such. That time was really good.

In school days, students would celebrate “special days” a lot. Seems like the three of you were popular.

Juyeon: In primary school? I think I received the most that time. 100 of that bar snack... (T/N: Pepero)

Younghoon: Separately? (laughs)

Juyeon: That’s why there was once when it was very hard for me to bring them back.

Hyunjae: Are you sure it’s perhaps not a dream? (laughs)

Juyeon: Our mom enjoyed it a lot. In White Day I would give out candies to all my classmates. I went to all male middle school and then co-ed high school but because I became a high school student I didn’t really do it anymore. (laughs) I couldn’t receive any.

Hyunjae: When I had to go down to eat I had to walk past the juniors’ classes. The juniors seemed to show interest when I was walking (laughs). Just like now when The Boyz stand on the stage and the fans would cheer. (While sharing this story, Hyunjae was really worried that it would seem as if he’s bragging too much. Hyunjae said he’s saying the “facts”.)

Of course these are episodes that handsome can experience, so don’t worry.

Hyunjae: Ah, there was even a time when my mother misunderstood and asked me “Do you have a girlfriend?” Ever since I was young my mother is conservative and she wouldn’t let me date or do things like that at all. That’s why I didn’t have a girlfriend… My mother was in the hospital once and told me that the kids said that I had a girlfriend. Making up a girlfriend that doesn’t exist… There was that kind of a story too.

Though seems like Younghoon would of course have this kind of episode as well?

Younghoon: It was during middle school, I can’t remember what day it was but it was the first time I received a confession in my life. I was in first grade of middle school and I was like such a baby. I was so embarrassed so I ran away. After that too I never contacted her at all.

Did you also do club activities?

Younghoon: I didn’t do any in high school but in our school every class has to perform something like a choir so I did it. We sang “Lion King” OST together too.

Hyunjae: Please sing it once~

Younghoon: In middle school I did pra-model (T/N Gundam) assembling.

Hyunjae: I made pencil cases and posters. Badminton club too… I participated in a lot of things.

Juyeon: I also joined the choir but just after two days… (T/N: He left) (laughs) Ah, in middle school I did basketball for after school activity. Because I was really crazy about basketball (laughs)

Hyunjae: Even now…

Juyeon: Now I don’t have time.

Hyunjae: When you have time…

Younghoon: You also don’t do any other games but basketball.

Hyunjae: Do you watch many of our videos or basketball videos?!

Juyeon: Of course I always watch our videos a lot more! (laughs)

If I have to define my school days?

Hyunjae: Past.

Younghoon: Something I enjoyed?

Juyeon: Nostalgic.

Younghoon: It’s a memory I want to go back to. If I can go back…

Hyunjae: Study?

Younghoon: I have to study.

Hyunjae: If I can go back, I should have done even just 2 foreign languages since I was young… I would have listened to my father’s words. Our dad even told me, “Jaehyun-ah, it’s fine even if you don’t study but you have to study foreign language.” Our dad even saw the future…

Juyeon: You can start doing it now. There is enough time.

Younghoon: I want to learn Chinese or Japanese. I already started learning foreign language in advance. (The Boyz members are now learning foreign languages)

Hyunjae: I’m the smartest. Should I say that in The Boyz I have a good memory…

Younghoon: ? Please make sure to use it as it is!

Juyeon: Right.

Hyunjae: When memorizing I would memorize everything. (Hyunjae said that in reality he’s the best in Chinese so he’s in charge of Chinese in The Boyz)

What comes into your mind when you wake up in the morning and look at the mirror?

Hyunjae: I used to not get bloated but my condition has changed so lately I always get swollen in the morning. Because of that I don’t look at the mirror. Yeah right, don’t you think that lately I’ve been getting swollen?

Younghoon: I don’t really know… Lately every morning when I wake up, I check my skin first while also getting my make-up done. My skin has not been very good so I’m getting stress.

Juyeon: For me…

Hyunjae: (While stroking his own face) Ah, whose child is this? (laughs)

Younghoon: Ah, he’s really something else~ This one~ (laughs) (T/N: They are teasing Juyeon)

Juyeon: I don’t think anything comes to my mind as I look at the mirror. Just, today too be positive…

When did you begin to notice that you are good looking?

Hyunjae: Kindergarten? (laughs) When I was young, a lot of adults told me such things (T/N: that he is good looking) and I grew up while listening to those words, that’s how I knew it, but now it’s not like that. Now I don’t think like that! There are so many good looking people in the world.

Juyeon: I think it’s also the same for me. When I was young I heard a lot of those things from people around me so I lived while thinking “I’m good in my own way”, but after debuting and seeing our seniors… There are many good looking people in the world.

Younghoon: I didn’t know until I went to high school. I heard a lot of stories of my good look when I entered high school. I think my friends saw me that way because during middle school my cheeks were chubby and during high school I lost weight. I didn’t even make it up… I was really happy because of listening to those words. (In the text he may seem confident, but in reality Younghoon was very shy and chose his words carefully so do not misunderstand)

Then who are the seniors that you think are good looking?

Hyunjae, Juyeon, Younghoon: DBSK seniors!

Hyunjae: They are very tall and really cool.

Juyeon: I certainly think that men look cooler if they are tall. They were really cool.

DBSK mentioned that The Boyz was a junior outside of their company that catched their attention, right? They also said Juyeon cried.

Juyeon: We met them by chance two days after our debut showcase. At that time, I was really out of my mind and it was a situation where I still couldn’t believe that I debuted. We were just in time to greet the seniors that time, but then they also told us a lot of good stories. Ever since I was young I’ve liked them so much but because of receiving such advices, a realization dawned upon me and I cried without even knowing it myself.

When is the moment when you personally think you look the most good looking?

Younghoon: When standing on the stage while hearing the fans’ cheers! Deobi’s cheers make us become good looking!

Hyunjae: (After considering for a bit) When I’m sleeping. Sometimes the company staff would say “Hyunjae-ya, you look the prettiest when you’re sleeping…” (laughs)

Juyeon: When I’m drying my hair? There is this dressing mirror (T/N: Where he stands in front of it) for when you’re drying your hair.

Hyunjae: When your hair is wet?

Juyeon: I don’t want to see it that way but, just… (laughs)

From your own look, is there a part that you like the most?

Younghoon: Forehead and eyebrows bones. My eyebrows bones stick out.

Juyeon: You look like a foreigner.

Younghoon: I didn’t realize that before but I got to know it.

Hyunjae: To be honest there isn’t a part that I really like. I don’t know. I’ve… always been a modest person… (laughs)

Juyeon: For me, eyes.

Hyunjae: Didn’t you say “lips” before?

Juyeon: I think I’m changing, the part that I like. There isn’t a part that I like but there isn’t a part that I don’t like either. I like my face. I’m satisfied with my look.

Then, is there something from the other The Boyz members that make you think “Ah, I want this”?

Hyunjae: There is, there is. I want Q’s small face. I also want Haknyeon’s thick lips and Sunwoo’s bronze skin.

Juyeon: For me, it’s Sunwoo’s pupils.

Younghoon: Haknyeon’s skin.

Juyeon: Ah, I’m most envious of that. Haknyeon’s skin is squishy (pudding-like texture) and-

Younghoon: It’s a baby skin.

Hyunjae: It’s elastic.

Younghoon: It’s shiny.

Hyunjae: New also has a nice skin.

According to the three of you, what do you think is each other’s charm in Deob-muda?

Hyunjae: Younghoon looks manly and gives off a cool feeling when staying still, but if you live together with Younghoon and observe him more closely he’s really cute. He has that kind of a baby feel. Juyeon likewise also looks manly and seems like he has a cool charisma when staying still but he has this cute character of looking perfect but actually clumsy.

Younghoon: That’s also the same from Hyunjae. He looks manly when he stays still.

Juyeon: Hyunjae-hyung is, what should I say, he looks innocent but if you become close to him, he has a lot of playfulness. He might be lively and looks really pretty and innocent but actually just like that. Younghoon-hyung is just like what Hyunjae-hyung said and also has a lot of cuteness in daily life. He can’t act cute if you ask him to. In daily life, his way of speaking contains cuteness, like “Is it okay if I do this?”. (Juyeon impersonated that Younghoon’s cute way of speaking by himself)

Younghoon: I can’t act cute if you make me do it. (laughs) Juyeon is serious but he’s sloppy. He’s serious but he’s always not serious (?)

Juyeon: I am actually in charge of gag/jokes in our team. There are people who like my jokes. (I think you are indeed the one in charge of jokes!) Right? My type of jokes is only for those who understand it, because they understand high level jokes (laughs) (Younghoon and Hyunjae did not agree.)

Younghoon: Hyunjae looks delicate but is the jokester and the one who plays around with the younger members the most.

Juyeon: Hyunjae-hyung’s eyes’ look like deer eyes. His eyes are pretty.

Seems like Juyeon especially thinks of “eyes” importantly.

Juyeon: I think eyes are important for an impression of a person. The look in one’s eye, this kind of thing. Because when you see a person, you look at their eyes.

If there is a part that Deob-muda is working hardly upon to maintain their looks?

Younghoon: I remove my make-up neatly and sleep with a face pack! These days I use relaxing packs. The effect is…

Juyeon: Just skin lotion? I do nothing else other than applying moisturizing cream well.

Hyunjae: I originally used to apply cream using my hand but now I use cotton. There is a big difference. If you do it like this with the cotton, the dust comes off!

Juyeon: But the cotton will stick on the face? (Deob-muda shared a story for a bit of how there is a make-up cotton that doesn’t work like that)

Hyunjae: I also keep moisturizing cream in the fridge.

Younghoon: When we didn’t have activities it was fine but during promotion we use a lot of make-up so my skin doesn’t seem to look that good.

Hyunjae: Let’s do promotion barefaced (without make-up)!

Hyunjae, Juyeon, Younghoon who want to create memory for The Bs, please say something for them!

Hyunjae: I want to tell The Bs that I always love them and am grateful for them.

Juyeon: It’s really because of The Bs that we always maintain our looks and want to look good and pretty. That’s the only reason.

Younghoon: Ah, please add me too. I really have the same mind.

Juyeon: It’s not that I want to show it to my mom (laughs) It’s really because of The B, for our fans that we are doing this.

Hyunjae: It’s also the reason we can improve day by day. Because there is The B!

Juyeon: And adding to that, though our looks too are looks but it would be nice if you can see our personality or various charms prettily. Our humane side too!

Hyunjae: Ah, but lately we have been showing our humane sides so much though (laughs)

[imwastingmylifeinhere]

Magnus Chase and the Obligatory Hogwarts AU Ch2

On oa3

Chapter 2, ladies, gentlemen and dear folks! Big thanks to @tearfulmelody for editing this. @alexfierrno

“Good morning,” Magnus greeted his friends as he sat down at their table.

The Hall of the Slain only had the four long House tables in the Start-of-Term Feast, End-of-Term Feast and special occasions like Halloween. On every other day, they were replaced by their much shorter counterparts and several circular tables that weren’t separated by house. Apparently, the four houses used to be much more competitive, and the staff thought that a good way to counter that would be to not separate students during meals, so as to encourage friendship between the houses.

It worked pretty well. Magnus and his friends wasn’t the only group of friends in school with students from different houses, not by a long shot. Magnus really couldn’t imagine what it would have been like if he couldn’t sit with his friends at breakfast, lunch or dinner simply because they were in different houses.

“Morning, Magnus!” Halfborn said as Magnus sat down. He was the last of the group to arrive, everyone else already seated and eating various degrees of a healthy breakfast. The most healthy one would be Sam, who’s breakfast was made up of mostly fruit. Halfborn’s plate, on the other hand, had so many sausages, pieces of bacon and fried eggs on it that looking at it was enough to give you clogged arteries.

“Did you sleep well?” Sam asked as she was spreading marmalade on a slice of bread. Sam was the one who took care of everyone else. She always made sure the other’s were getting enough sleep and eating enough. She was basically their mum, with T.J taking the role of the dad as the next most responsible member of the group.

“Yeah. It’s really good being back,” Magnus said. And sleeping on a bed with a roof over your head.

Halfborn made a bad siren noise through his mouthful of eggs. “Nerd alert!”

Mallory flicked one of her grapes at him. “Says the person who wanted to take all the elective courses. I don’t know how you weren’t sorted into Ravenclaw.”

Halfborn picked up the grape from where it had landed on the table after it bounced off his face and popped it in his mouth. “Because these babies can give mean punches in addition to writing great essays.” He took a silly bodybuilder pose and flexed his arms. They were pretty impressive.

Mallory rolled her eyes and popped another grape in her mouth, but her cheeks were as red as the apple Sam was eating and they all saw it.

“So, how do you like the Slytherin common room, Alex?” Magnus asked, partly to move on from Mallory and Halfborn’s flirting (they were so obviously in love, when would they get together?) and partly because he was really curious. The dungeons were pretty creepy.

And then, as an afterthought “Oh, and, uh, are you a girl today or a boy?”

“Girl. She and her,” Alex said, after a split second of surprise that someone actually asked. She had sat down just moments before Magnus came, and despite the others asking too, it felt surreal to go from what her family had been like to treated with respect.

“And the common room is really cool!” she continued. Her hair was green today again and the tie around her neck was hanging much more loosely than her parents would have ever allowed. “I mean, I thought you were kidding when you said it was in the dungeons, but it really is. And they have this big glass wall that lets you see into the lake!”

“That must be really cool,” T.J said. He was spinning his spoon between his fingers like he does with his wand. T.J was constantly a ball of energy and, and distracting as his masterful pen/wand/whatever-spinning could be, it was the only thing that could keep him relatively still.

“So who are your roommates?” Magnus asked.

“Mallory and Sam,” Alex answered.

“Oh, yeah, you’ve had an empty bed since Sadie left,” Halfborn said, looking up from his food long enough to talk.

“Who’s Sadie?” Alex asked, turning to look at Mallory and Sam. “You mentioned her yesterday but you didn’t tell me who she was.”

“Sadie was our old roommate,” Sam said. “She transferred to Ilvermorny last year after her uncle took custody of her and her brother. She was in second year.”

The four Houses had different systems in their dorms. In Gryffindor, they were separated in boys and girls and all the students of the same year slept together.

In Ravenclaw they had co-ed rooms of four, with two girls and two boys in each (it was because everyone had an equal right to knowledge, or something like that, if Magnus remembered correctly). It was also common to find rooms with students from different years in the same room if one year had an uneven number of students.

In Hufflepuff they had rooms of five with mixed years. Magnus shared a room with a sixth, fifth and second year. The seventh year that was in his room had graduated, so there was a new first year in the room now. This system was meant to build trust between students, as well as provide the younger students a sort of mentor and the older students a chance to revise when they helped the younger ones.

Slytherin had rooms of three separated by gender and, like in Ravenclaw, if there was a year with an uneven number of students, younger students could be roommates of  the older ones. That had been the case with Sadie.

“It’s a bummer she left,” Mallory said. She was buttering a piece of toast and she waved the buttery knife around as she talked. She didn’t hurt anyone, but she smeared butter on the table. “She was really fun. I’m sure you would have liked her.”

“Yeah, remember that time she put all the school’s owls in Helgi’s office?” Halfborn said.

“Oh, Helgi was complaining about the bird poop for days!” T.J said with a fond smile on his face.  Sadie had been a little devil but she was tons of fun.

Alex looked between the rest of the group and their smiling faces with that confused expression you get when you friends talk about an inside joke you’re not in on. She might not have met this girl they were talking about, might never will, but whoever could put dozens of owls in someone’s office had earned her respect.

“So what elective courses are you talking?” Sam asked Alex.

“Care of Magical Creatures and Muggle Studies.”

“Muggle Studies?” Halfborn asked perplexed. “I had heard the Fierros didn’t like Muggles so much.”

Halfborn’s comment was met by a sharp elbow to his sides by T.J and another grape to the face by Mallory. “Dude, that was rude,” T.J said.

“It’s okay,” Alex reassured them. “My parents don’t like Muggles, that’s true. But I don’t live with them anymore and they have no say in what I choose to study either.”

Magnus averted his eyes from Alex and decided to look at his cereal instead. There was a sharpness to Alex’s voice, a coldness that let Magnus know that whatever had happened between Alex and her parents to make her talk like this about them wasn’t pretty and he shouldn’t bring them up.

Alex sighed and the tension left her shoulders. “Anyway, what are you guys taking?”

“We all take Care of Magical Creatures,” Magnus said. “We wanted a class to take all together and we all like it.”

“Except for Halfborn,” Mallory piped up. “He’s a year older so he doesn’t have classes with any of us. He chose to take it ‘cause he’s a nerd.”

Halfborn rolled his eyes at her. Mallory poked her tongue out at him.

“Mallory and I take Divination,” T.J said, ignoring his two friends obviously flirting with each other.

“I take Arithmancy and Ancient Runes, like Halfborn,” Sam said.

“I take Ancient Runes with Sam and Muggle Studies,” Magnus said.

“Oh, so we have that class together,” Alex said. “Wait. If you all take Care of Magical Creatures, does that mean you, Sam and Halfborn take three elective courses?”

“Yep,” Mallory answered for them, popping the ‘p’. “We have a lot of nerds in our group.”

“Oh, did you get your timetables?” Sam asked. The other teens nodded and pulled their timetables out of their bags. They put them side by side on the table and examined them to see if they had any free periods in common.

“Seems like we all got two free periods together in Wednesday,” T.J said. “Right after History of Magic.”

“Thank Merlin!” Mallory said, slumping back in her chair. “Erikson’s lessons are sooooo boring!”

The small talk continued through breakfast, until Sam reminded them that they should leave soon so they’d get to class on time. Halfborn and T.J left to go to Transfiguration, while Magnus and the girls went to Defense against the Dark Arts.

DADA was taught by Professor Jack. His surname was Sumarbrander, but none of the students could pronounce it (and Professor Jack thought it was too long) so he insisted his students just call him Jack. (A lot of teachers at Hogwarts insisted on that, now that Magnus thought about it.)  It had seemed weird to Magnus at first, especially since a lot of his teachers in Muggle schools would scold students if they called them by their first names. A lot of times, Magnus didn’t even know what the first name of one of his teachers was. He had had the same English teacher for years before learning that his name was Henry.

Professor Jack was the Head of Gryffindor and he was one of the weirdest teachers at Hogwarts (then again, all of them were weird). He reminded Magnus of the best friend in coming-of-age movies, the one who was his friend’s wingman, called people ‘dude’ and cracked bad jokes. He didn’t focus too much in the theory in DADA, instead focusing on the practical aspect. According to him,

“You don’t defend yourself by having your nose buried in a book and memorizing a block of text!”

His lessons were a mess, to be honest, but a good mess. He was laid back and relaxed, especially compared to other teachers. He didn’t mind if students whispered something to a friend now and then as long as they paid attention to the lesson and understood what he said. There was always a constant buzz of conversation in his classroom and students were more comfortable around him, something he prided himself in. He was goofy, but he was a great teacher.

“Alright class, welcome to your first DADA lesson of the year!” Professor Jack said cheerily as sat on his desk. Not in the chair, no, on the desk. This is what Magnus meant by relaxed.

“Now, you might have noticed we have a new student among us,” he went on. “Alex, would you like to say something about yourself? For example, your hobbies or things that interest you.”

Alex got up from her seat next to Mallory. She was wearing the boy’s school uniform, Magnus noted. “My name is Alex Fierro and my pronouns are she/her unless I tell you otherwise. I like pottery and hiking and I hope I can try out for the Quidditch team.”

Alex sat back down after she finished talking. Magnus saw the other students sent glances at each other and whisper silently between them. It had been clear from last night that Alex had become the new hot topic of conversation at school. But then again, that was just natural when you had a rare new transfer student, especially one from an important family. (At least, Magnus had gathered that the Fierros were important. It sure seemed like that from what everyone was saying.)

“Alright,” Professor Jack said. “Now, this year we will learn about the Unforgivable Curses…”

The first few weeks of school went by smoothly. Magnus and the gang would go to their lessons and hang out together whenever they had free time. They’d study outside or in the library after lessons were over and they’d eat together in every mealtime.

The routine was nice. After how hectic that summer had been, it was so relaxing for Magnus to be back at school. To have to worry only about doing his homework and waking up on time instead of where he’d find his next meal. To be able to sleep on a bed and actually sleep peacefully, without having to worry about being robbed or attacked.

Felling normal again, felling like nothing had changed… it was great.

Some things had changed, though. For example, they were no longer a group of five, but of six. Despite the fact they had only known Alex for a week, it already felt like she had been their friend for years. She and Halfborn had stricken up a weird rivalry/friendship and would constantly compete; about who could run to class faster, about who could devour more potatoes at lunch, about who would look away first. Mallory, Sam and Alex had become inseparable, what with sharing a room and all, and they teased each other constantly. Alex would tease and joke with Magnus all the time too, and she’d join T.J when he made sarcastic comments.

Most of their free periods were now spent wandering around the castle. Since Alex was new, she didn’t know her way around the castle and it could be a pain in the neck to navigate it. Whoever had a free period with Alex was in charge of being her tour guide and showing her the various rooms and corridors of the Hogwarts castle.

That was what Magnus and Alex were doing right now. Alex and Magnus had just finished their Muggle Studies lesson with Professor Thor and Magnus was showing Alex around the west wing of the castle.

Professor Thor was a giant of a man with ginger hair and an unkempt beard. His surname wasn’t actually Thor. It was something in Norse that was difficult to pronounce, and since it started with ‘Thor’ everybody just called him that. He didn’t really mind, since he loved Thor from the Marvel movies. Professor Thor was the biggest fanboy Magnus had ever met. His lessons were pretty much just watching movies/TV shows and analyzing them. He though it was more effective to see Muggle culture in action rather than just read the textbook. ‘Analyzing’ them meant talking about fan-theories and shipping and whatnot.

At first, Magnus had just picked Muggle Studies because it was easy; he had grown up in the Muggle world after all. He took it again in third year because it was fun. They were just a bunch of nerds in there.

Magnus and Alex were walking down one of Hogwarts’ long corridors. To be honest, Magnus wasn’t sure he had been here before, but that didn’t deter him. He stopped in front of painting and suits of armor to give Alex a grandiose backstory, making up what he said as he went.

Alex had figured out that Magnus didn’t know what he was saying, but she didn’t really care. All his over-the-top moves and stories were fun and she was really enjoying it. She walked behind him, stroking her chin in mock thoughtfulness and saying fancy art stuff she had heard her parents say when they’d drag her with them to those dreadful art exhibitions. It wasn’t the painting or statues that she didn’t like; she loved those. But she couldn’t stand having to spend an entire afternoon around snobbish boring rich people that misgendered her all the time.

She was wearing the girl’s uniform today. Not that there was much of a difference, really. The uniforms were identical, save for the trousers or skirt.  That wasn’t a big deal either since girls could choose to wear trousers if they wanted to, though most chose to wear skirts.

The uniform that had been given to Alex when she got sorted was a boy’s uniform. That’s what she wore the first few weeks of school. She wanted to wear a skirt too, like the rest of the girls, but she had been hesitant. Wearing a skirt was what had gotten her hurt back at Durmstrang. It was what had led to her sleeping under bridges and searching for food in trash bins.

When she got on the Hogwarts Express, she had told herself that she wouldn’t care now. That she’d make it clear from the start to everyone who she was. And despite things having gone smoothly up to now, she was still scared.

“I’d really like to wear the girl’s uniform,” she had said one night. Sam and Mallory were setting out their uniforms so they’d put them on quicker the next morning (Mallory has a bad habit) and Alex was lying on her back on her bed. She hadn’t realized she spoke out loud and not in her head until Sam turned to look at her.

“You mean the skirt?” she asked. Sam wore trousers instead of skirts because they were too short for her.

Alex had tensed up. She hadn’t realized she had spoken out loud. “Yeah,” she answered hesitantly.

“They didn’t give you any, did they?” Mallory asked. “We can talk to Professor Sif to get you some.”

Alex raised her eyebrows in surprise. “She would do that?” Professor Sif was really strict. You better be quiet and pay attention in her class or you’ll get the scolding of your life and have so many house points deducted that you’d need to be a genius to get them back.

Mallory shrugged. “Sure. She let you room with us, so I don’t see why she wouldn’t get you a few skirts if you asked.” She plopped down on her bed and lay back against her pillows. Mallory had enough pillows on her bed for a dozen people to have a pillow fight.

“You can borrow some of mine until then, if you want,” she said casually as she searched in the drawer of her bedside table for her ‘phone’ (it was the weird rectangular thing that lit up but Alex didn’t know what it did).

Alex had jerked up. She sat up on her bed and looked at Mallory, who was swiping her ‘phone’ for some reason, with eyes as wide as dishes.

Alex’s staring made Mallory look up from the glowing object in her hand. “What? You’re staring at me like I just grew a second head.” After a second, her eyes widened in fear. “Oh my God, tell me I haven’t. Halfborn didn’t slip some potion in my drink as a prank again, did he?”

“What? No, no, you’re fine. It’s just… you want to lent me your skirts?”

Mallory shrugged again. “Yeah, as long as they fit you. They must fit you, you don’t look that much bigger than me.”

“You could take mine if you want,” Sam said. “I don’t wear them anyway.”

Mallory and Sam kept talking about whose skirts would fit Alex better and which boy’s size translated in which girl’s size. Alex stared at her folded hands on her lap, trying to will the tears away.

It’s too much, she though, this is too much. She wouldn’t have dared to tell any of her friends back at Durmstrang (not that she had any, at least not any real ones) that she wanted to wear a skirt. Even if she did, they wouldn’t have acted nice about it. Her parents had made it very clear what they thought of their son in a dress.

She never would have dreamed of having friends that would suggest she borrows their skirts.

But she did. She did and it was too much.

“Alex?” Sam asked. Alex had sniffed and the muffled sob that escaped her cause Sam to stop talking to Mallory and look at her. She put her hand on her shoulder worriedly. “Alex, are you alright?”

Alex sobbed again. She was pressing her hands on her lips to keep back her sobs but it didn’t work. Too much. It’s too much.

“Have you never worn a skirt before?” Mallory asked. Alex could feel the mattress of her bed dipping as Sam and Mallory sat down next to her.

Alex shook her head. Technically, she had worn a dress, not a skirt. And she never had anyone who was this casual about her wearing one.

“Do you want to?” Sam asked. God, Alex could practically feel the worry in her voice.

Alex nodded her head quickly. “I do,” she managed to get out between her sniffling.

“Are you afraid of wearing one to school?” Mallory asked quietly.

Alex shook her head. No, I’m not.

Then she nodded. I am. But I don’t want to be.

Alex felt a set of arms wrapping around her. Mallory. “It’s okay,” the redhead said. “It’ll be fine. If anyone says anything mean, I’ll beat them up! I’ll get the others to help too.”

Alex’s body was racked with sobs. Her shoulders were shaking and she kept hiccupping. Mallory’s words just made her cry harder.

When Mallory and Sam hugged her, Alex felt like her heart was bursting. It was as if her chest was filled with something warm and good and it made her feel so, so happy and it was too much.

“Thank you,” she whispered to them.

Once Alex had calmed down and Sam wiped her tears away like a concerned mother, Mallory jumped to her feet. She declared a slumber party and proceeded to throw pillows at them.  They fought and they fought and they fought until there were feathers all over the floor and Sam had to spell Mallory’s pillows back to normal.

They stayed up late, much later than they were supposed to, especially on a school night. Mallory put some music on her ‘phone’ (another strange thing that devise could do) and they danced and jumped on their beds. At one point, Mallory run down the hall to some other girl’s room and borrowed a bag of make-up. She and Alex attacked Sam and held her down as Mallory applied horrible lip-gloss and blush on her face. By the time they were done, they all looked like clowns, what with their lip-gloss stained all over their faces and the colors as mismatched as possible. The red lip-gloss on Alex’s cheeks formed a giant smile and Mallory said she looked like The Joker (whoever that was).

They then proceeded to making their wardrobes a mess. They pulled out everything and dressed up in the weirdest combinations ever. Sam was wearing a skirt over her trousers and her pajama top was tied around her neck like a cape. Mallory had one of their ties tied around her head and she walked around in her shorts and bra, with the scarf she dag out of the closet hang around her neck like a feather boa. Alex had on Mallory’s school skirt and her colorful socks on her arms like long princess gloves.

They fell back on Alex’s bed, laughing their heads off without making any sound. Their shoulders shook by their laughter and their mouths were wide open and smiling but they made no noise, clapping their hands like seals.

“Do you feel better now?” Sam asked, the first one of them to be able to talk properly after all that they did.

Alex nodded. “Yeah. Thank you.”

“No problem. Us girls have to stick together,” Mallory said. “I mean, we’ll stick by you when you’re having a male day too, but you know what we mean.”

From then on, Alex would borrow Sam’s skirts and wear them around in their room. Sam had suggested she does that to ease into it and be more comfortable with the idea. Every time she wore one they would be really supportive and tell her she looked good or that it suited her (Mallory wolf-whistled once).

It was today that she finally decided to wear it to lessons. Her heart was pounding like a drum inside her ribcage as she got dressed. She had looked at the mirror one more time before leaving the safety of their room, with a final thought of ‘Screw this, I’m not backing out now’.

She had been walking out of the common room with confidence (as much as she could manage) when Professor Sif stopped her. “Miss Fierro.”

Alex had stopped dead in her tracks. Fuck, she’s gonna call me out on my skirt. I spent all this time working up the courage and now I’m going to be humiliated in front of the entire common room.

But then her dread had turned into fear and she clenched her hands into fists. I’m not taking it off even if she gives me detention.

“Straighten your tie, Miss Fierro,” Professor Sif had said. “It’s crooked.”

Professor Sif had walked away, leaving Alex looking after her utterly baffled. That was not what I expected.

Strange behavior from Professor Sif aside, Alex had made it to the Great Hall feeling great. She had one of those song that Mallory had played for them  stuck in her head (something about being fabulous) and it was playing in her mind like a soundtrack (they learned about that in Muggle Studies).

The rest of their group had been just as supportive as Sam and Mallory. T.J had complimented her the moment he saw her and as they were heading to their Charms lesson, Halfborn walked in front of her to clear the way and yelled “Make way! Hot stuff coming through! And this time I’m not talking about me!” Magnus had complimented her too, after a moment of staring at her skirt. It made Alex feel a bit sad, that he might not be as okay with her as the rest of their group, but at least he wasn’t mean about it.

“And this is the armor of Sir Reinhart of Baltimore, who died from a humongous dump after eating his mother-in-law’s cooking.” Magnus was pointing to one of the various suits of armors in Hogwarts. He had made his accent sound as over-the-top and cringe-y as possible and his expression reminded Alex of a stuck up snobby butler (she had met her fair share of those).

“My, my, that must have been horrible,” Alex said, giving her voice the same snobbish air. She may have been imitating her step-mother, but no one could prove that. She saw a couple of students walk by from the corner of her eye, but she didn’t pay them much mind.

Magnus nodded solemnly. “It was, indeed.” He moved over to the painting close to the armor suit. It depicted a fair with people drifting around and having fun. There was a jester there, a Duke and a lady in a impractically huge dress who was getting drunk off of wine.

Magnus had just started explaining the significance of the painting, much to its residents’ amusement, when Alex’s face began to hurt. She could feel her skin splitting on her cheeks and warts erupt on her cheeks like volcanoes. It felt as if someone was pulling her nose from her face and stretching it like rubber. Her eyes burned and her vision blurred by tears and when she tried to wipe them away, it just made it worse.

“Alex? Alex, are you okay?” Magnus asked worriedly. He’ll admit, it was a stupid question, but what did you expect him to do when his friend’s face suddenly started mutating out of the blue?

Magnus was trying to think of something to alleviate Alex discomfort when he heard snickers. He looked up to see a couple of students, fifth years perhaps, practically cackling together. One’s hand was still on his wand.

“Did you do this?” he demanded from the boy. There was no reason to ask, really, because the answer was obvious. What Magnus wanted to know was “Why did you do that?”

“Why not?” the kid asked. The way he asked that made Magnus even angrier. There was no regret, no sign in his voice that showed that maybe he realized he fucked up and shouldn’t have done that. He sounded like he was perfectly content with the fact he had just turned another students face into a mess of pimples and warts with a nose as large as Pinocchio’s.

“It wasn’t enough that he went around asking to be treated as a girl on some days and as a boy on others, he had the nerve to wear a skirt to school!” The boy went on. “If he’s a freak like that it’s no wonder the rumors actually turned out to be true!”

“What rumors?” Magnus asked, though he wasn’t sure he had the patience to let the boy talk before punching him.

“That the Fierros disowned their heir, of course!” the boy answered. “I mean, it was bad enough he was an illegitimate child, but this?”

Alex didn’t speak. She stood behind Magnus, looking as if she wanted to beat those boys up and cry at the same time.

“Shut up,” Magnus growled at the boy. Actually growled. There wasn’t any other way to describe how he had sounded.

“Why? I’m just telling things how they are.”

Magnus was about to draw his wand and cast a hex on the other student when someone interrupted him mid-spell.

“What is happening here?” Professor Sif demanded. For someone as beautiful as her, she looked absolutely terrifying when she was angry. “Why is Fierro looking like that?”

Magnus pointed at the other kid. “He cast a hex on her!”

Professor Sif turned to the student. “Is that true?”

“He was asking for it!” the boy yelled, pointing at Alex like a five-year-old throwing a fit. “He came to school in a skirt!”

“I do not see the problem with one of my girls wearing a skirt,” Professor Sif said coldly. “Fifty points from Ravenclaw and detention with me for an hour a month.”

“What? But I didn’t do anything wrong!”

“One hundred points. Now leave before I make your detention longer too.” She turned to the boy’s friend, who hadn’t talked at all during the whole thing. “As for you, twenty points from Ravenclaw for not stopping your friend.”

The boy walked away sullenly, his fists clenched by his side. He clearly wasn’t happy with this. Good, Magnus thought.

“Mister Chase, please take Fierro to the infirmary,” Professor Sif said. “I must go speak to their Head of House.”

Magnus nodded as Professor Sif left to find Professor Hearthstone. Alex was standing at her place, glaring holes into the floor. There were tears shining in her eyes and Magnus could tell she was fighting them down.

He reached out to take her and hesitated. He took he sleeve instead and tugged her along.

“Come on, Alex,” he said. “I know a shortcut to the infirmary. There’s not a lot of people there.”

Alex didn’t talk as they walked to the infirmary and Magnus didn’t either. She kept her head bent low the whole time and Magnus walked as fast as he could without running so he wouldn’t draw attention to her. He doubted she wanted anyone to see her like this.

After Nurse Eir applied a salve to Alex’s face that would get rid of the warts and spelled her nose to its original size, she allowed Magnus to stay with her for a bit, since their free period wasn’t over yet and, according to her, “You heal better when you have friends by your side.”

“Is your face feeling better?” Magnus asked. He was sitting on a chair next to Alex’s cot. The infirmary in Hogwarts didn’t have the same stark white feeling to it as any other hospital Magnus had gone to. He assumed it was because it walls were made from warm beige stones and not sterile white.

Alex gave a little nod but didn’t speak. Magnus saw her bit her lip, like she was trying to hold the words back, the way a dam held back the water. But the dam broke and the words spilled out like waves.

“You agree with him, don’t you?”

Her words were so fast, Magnus had to do a double-take. Her hands were folded on her lap so hard her knuckles had turned white.

“With who?” Magnus asked. Alex didn’t answer. “You don’t mean that git in the hall, do you?”

She nodded. She didn’t look up at Magnus when he spoke. Instead, she kept staring at her hands, at the bed, out of the window, anywhere but at him. Like she couldn’t bear to look at him.

Magnus’ eyebrows scrunched in confusion, as if you had just told him that the earth was a cube and the sun was a big lamp. Like what he was hearing was completely illogical. “Why would I agree with him?”

That’s when Alex finally snapped her eyes up to look at Magnus. “Oh, come on! I saw how you looked at my skirt this morning. You think I’m weird too!”

“What? No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did! Don’t lie!”

“Okay, I might have stared but it wasn’t because of the skirt- well, no, it was because of the skirt, but not like that! I just haven’t seen you in a skirt before and you looked good! I was just surprised. Not that you looked good, that’s normal –“ Magnus stopped abruptly. He was rambling.

“I don’t think you’re a freak,” he said slower. “Same goes for Mallory, Sam, Halfborn and T.J. I’m sorry that boy said those things about you and if you give the signal they’ll have a hell of a week, but neither me nor any of the others agree with them. You are who you are and no stupid git has a right to tell you that’s wrong. It’s none of their business, anyway.”

Alex looked at him with something akin to amazement in her eyes. It wasn’t until Magnus stopped talking that he realized how strong his voice had sounded.

“Thank you, Magnus,” she said softly. “Sorry I jumped to conclusions.”

“It’s okay. And you don’t need to thank me. You joined our friend group and that means we are all ready to inflict our wrath upon anyone who has wronged you. We have several different options for you to choose from.”

Alex raised an eyebrow and giggled. “Really? Like what?”

Magnus smiled wide. “Well, let me tell you what is included on the menu…”