#but in my adhd ‘I have trouble telling people apart normally’ way it’s a pain in the ass

[foxgloveinspace]

Listen. I think it’s really NICE that iii and iv switch outfits. As a little treat. Love that. BUT Makes it so much harder for, a person who can still only barely tell them apart unless the pic is zoomed out and I can see iii’s skinny legs, or they are right next to each other. It’s me, I’m that person.

[mizuta]

god im tired (longer winded ramble under the cut about disability?)

the thing they dont tell you. about being the son of two disabled parents, two people who hate themselves more than they could hate you, a woman who swears up and down that her becoming disabled enough to need a wheelchair full time is the worst thing thats ever happened to her, thats Ruined her life.

the thing they dont tell you is their constant insistance that you can do better and are just lazy warps your fucking perspective to yourself until its unrecognizeable. they push themselves until theyre now falling apart at the seams with worse and worse damages that couldve maybe been avoided somewhat and refuse to allow you to be 'weak' and 'need help'.

they dont tell you that when youre navigating constant persistant wrist pain at 22, when your cognitive functions have always been bad but not bad enough, that youre never gonna feel like you deserve help or accommodations. that you cant do math or numbers and thats a larger symptom of something, of when words blur together and you read chunks of writing as nonsensical regularly, when you hear one thing but someone said something completely different and you have to just bashfully laugh it off.

when your language function breaks down and youre speaking in fragmented sentences. no proper grammar. the words are hard and dont make sense and youre just desperately screaming in your own wy trying to be heard. you get told that one might be a symptom of your psychosis but fuck nobody ever told you that wasnt normal to begin with other than making fun of you when your guards down.

when you can barely tell time between two days from each other and your disassociative disorder makes you all lose so many gaps in time, and youre not mad at each other for that, but you just kind of wonder because between that and how much time doesnt exist to you all and how much you forget from adhd to the point that entire days are forgotten after youve lived them, when youre so exhausted and your head feels like fog 80% of the time, when your mood tracker never puts you above a 5 on the mental health scale on your best days.

when you know damn fucking well youre not abled enough, but nobody tells you that youll constantly be told youre not disabled enough, either. not abled or disabled. some fucking other thing, something thats useless, something thats just fucking pointless.

its like, i know im mentally ill. severe clinical depression. adhd. probably cptsd that im still coming to terms with. likely ocd. possibly autistic as well its hard to tell. psychosis. but im also in pain pretty regularly, but its 'only' wrist pain, so does it matter? i cant think straight most days of the week and its a genuine struggle full of spoons to keep my speech coherent and just tonight alone i keep hallucinating my bathroom lights on and getting up and discovering when i come to turn them off theyre already off.

ive been sick for a week and a half and i could barely manage to get out of bed and shower twice. or get a sports drink so i didnt just... faint. i need constant access to electrolyte water/sports drinks or my near-constant dizziness and lightheadedness and sometimes physical pain gets way worse, rather than 'manageable and liveable'. i feel like im going fucking insane.

all signs point to me having asthma. my parents literally think im insane at the idea. i have so much breathing trouble and this last week i couldnt breathe for multiple 10 minute chunks because i went to work sick because i need the money.

christ almighty. not abled. not disabled enough. cant quantify my cognitive problems because itll never be 'enough'. god.

im so fucking tired, dude. i just want to sleep for a really, really long time

[variousqueerthings]

Johnny and ADHD

alright, I’ve wanted to write something about ADHD Johnny for awhile now.

Waaay back in February @deliciousbananavoidpurse made this post and I made some haphazard additions, but now, at last, I ramble!

This isn’t really an addition to that list so much as a... idk, seeing it from an almost fic-but-kind-of-meta point of view. Those points In Practise, with an additional young Johnny.

1.

Johnny’s a kid. He and his mom have been living hand-to-mouth for as long as he remembers, in and out of schools, in and out of apartments and cars. Of course he’s going to be flighty, spaced-out, unfocused.

He’s an easy target – not very big (he doesn’t get a lot of good meals), dirty clothes, and… weird. He gets beaten up sometimes, but mostly he sticks as much to himself as he can and doesn’t go to school if he can help it. Laura saves up and gets him a walkman.

After that it’s like the world doesn’t exist to him at all.

She thinks that’s easier than trying to make him live in it. But he deserves better. They both do. So she makes a decision that changes everything…

2.

Johnny’s not going hungry these days. In fact, he eats constantly, like he’s making up for lost time. His clothes are new and he gets anything he wants. He’s enrolled in school properly.

But Johnny himself doesn’t change much. He’s vibrating with an energy he can’t explain – normal for boys – he skips school, he goes off somewhere in his own mind, struggles with making friends, gets into fights he can’t win, and all day he listens to music. Still skinny, still flighty, still weird.

Tries new things that become all-encompassing for him and drops them one day to the next – normal for boys, all normal for boys – and then -

3.

Johnny sees those boys: Tall, broad, leather jackets, rad bikes, shining, beautiful. He watches them through the window for hours, transfixed in a way only riding his bike and listening to music used to do. 

He joins Cobra Kai.

And finally, like a dam breaking, he focuses. He focuses like he’s a machine. Like nothing else matters. He takes everything happening at home, every beating he ever took, every failing grade (he tries, but school never manages to matter – the other Cobras help, simply by being there and sometimes especially Bobby forces him to sit down and write a paper, but he’ll never be smart, that’s fine), and he puts them into his fist.

He trusts Kreese to tell him what to think, what to feel, what to do. Finally, finally, everything makes sense. It’s just him and his body and someone he trusts telling him what to do with it. 

Nothing else matters.

4.

There are other things that matter. 

He’s getting his life in order so he can leave Sid’s and take his Mom with him. He’s going to be the right kind of boyfriend to Ali. He’ll do well enough in his final year to make up for the previous ones, and he’s got karate, and Kreese, who’s telling him he’s the champ. 

Who he can trust.

But he gets into trouble, he drinks, his grades continue to slip, and suddenly (or is it gradually, he can’t tell with time sometimes) Ali is telling him he’s changed – angry, volatile, forgetful, (okay he was always forgetful, but it’s getting worse – is karate the only thing he cares about?), but it’s fine, he can fix that too. He just has to change everything that doesn’t work. If he can be that good at karate, it just means he’s not trying hard enough everywhere else. Just needs to try harder.

Just. Easy. He has a plan. He has a hundred plans.

5.

It all blows up in his face and suddenly he’s faced with the truth: that there really is nothing he’s good for. Karate? What’s that ever gotten him? What else has he got to show for it? 

He’s still just the same kid he was – alright, he’s bigger, babes will stop and check him out, he’s learned how to charm people if he has to, but those are just scripts and they don’t work for long if he doesn’t have anything else to back them up and they bore him - they bore him in ways he thinks have gotta be different to what everyone else means when they say they’re bored. 

He doesn’t have a plan. He has a hundred plans. He doesn’t have anyone to tell him what to do. He doesn’t know what to do. He knows what to do.

He drinks more. What does it matter, he’s young, life’s short, there’s nothing he can learn now (and really, if you know a couple of things you can scrape by – when they turn off the lights he knows he forgot to pay the bills, when he gets arrested he knows he fucked up and let his emotions get away with him), and before he knows it it’s 2002.

6.

His mom dies. Robby is born. Someone smarter than him could figure out some kind of poetic meaning behind that, but he’s not smart, so he just lets the moments pass him by like everything else has passed him by.

He’s getting by with what he knows. The world outside is like a blur. He’s got what he’s always had: music, a car, his looks. He’s doing okay for someone in his mid-thirties who doesn’t know how to boil spaghetti and drinks first thing in the morning.

 Probably all the fighting. He kept it up, informally. Maybe because it’s too deep in his bones for him to let go of, even if it just reminds him over and over that he couldn’t take it. That he can’t take it.

He fights whenever it all gets to be too much and even the drinking doesn’t work. Sometimes he punches walls to fight himself. It’s like a sharp feeling that he can’t ignore that can only be silenced with fighting. The off-button.

7.

2017 (again, the past is a blur. 2017? what happened to thirty-five? What happened to being young? Someone who’s young is allowed to be like this, but he’s…)

He never owned a computer. He never learned new words or anything else that wasn’t immediately important. He makes a handshake deal, because his credit is shit, but also because he never figured out how contracts really work. He still struggles with bills (you can leave anything to the last minute and beyond and things can still turn out okay), struggles with communication. His old scripts don’t work any more and he can’t learn new ones. He’s forgotten enough promises he made to watch Robby’s matches or drive him to school – even his birthday sometimes, even when he writes it down and forgets where he wrote it down - that Robby wants nothing more to do with him. Forgets groceries. 

He’ll do or say something and people will look at him like he’s stupid and he doesn’t know why. He refuses to ask, because he just wants the looks to go away. He knows he’s stupid. He knows he can’t figure things out. He knows, okay? Shut up.

He’s not an alcoholic. He just drinks to wake up. To forget. To calm down (that electricity that existed in his body as a kid never went away, even though he’s so so tired. The machine inside of him that won’t shut off without a fight, won’t let him stop moving). To sleep. To drink. To do something.

He sees Miguel and has a hundred new plans. He sees the future like it’s right there and a million miles away. He was never good at implementing long-term plans. He thinks maybe karate can save him, just like it did when he was a kid. 

8.

There’s something wrong with his brain. Has been all his life. That’s not how he was told, he was given a bunch of tests and gently informed – undiagnosed it can lead to some of the problems you’ve had, it’s normal, it’s okay – like he’s dying of cancer. But that’s the gist of it. He didn’t fuck up because he didn’t try hard enough, he was always going to fuck up. That doesn’t make him feel better.

It means quitting the alcohol is gonna fail. It means he really is stupid. It means he could’ve never been the kid his mom needed. It means he was easy for Kreese to manipulate. It means Robby could be fucked up too and he’s failed him again. It means he’s not worth the time and pain that people invest in him, like his mom, Ali, Shannon, Robby, Bobby, Miguel, Carmen, Daniel -

“Hey.”

It means he’s got Emotional Dysregulation. Translated: he’s the kind of man who has to work extra hard not to cry (explains why he was such a pussy as a kid. Also explains all the pain in his chest and throat right before roughly... 70% of his most recent fights). And fuck, he just failed.

“What?” Anger is better. It’s also a dysregulation apparently, but it’s better than being weak.

“It’s okay,” says Daniel, and of course he’d think that – he’s never seen a nameable problem he didn’t wanna fix, but didn’t you hear LaRusso, you can’t fix this. Never could. 

“It’s not about fixing,” answers Daniel. “It’s about understanding. It’s about knowing who you are. If you know who you are, you can make a choice.”

“What kinda choice do I have?”

Daniel shrugs. “You chose to take in Miguel. You chose not to fight me, more times than I chose to fight you in the last couple of years. You chose that you wanted to know who you were. And you chose to try being sober. Those are all good decisions in my book. Anything else… we can figure things out from here. Trust me.”

He places a hand on the back of Johnny’s neck, grounding him. Daniel has that power. The power to make everything okay for a second. 

Johnny thinks: Please tell me what to do. I was always okay once you gave me something to do. Like karate. Figuring things out is… too abstract. Eventually though, he knows, if he’s patient, Daniel will tell him what to do next. 

He just has to trust him.

9. (Extra: things Johnny does, because of the brain he has)

Johnny trusts easily, despite it all. He’s honest (and sometimes too literal). He’s passionate. He’s driven. He’s loving. He feels, so so much. He’s protective and he’s loyal. He tries his hardest, even when everything – including his own brain – refuses to help. He believes in second chances for others (and he’s beginning to believe in it for himself). He’s good with kids when he lets himself be. He’s learning to be gentle with himself and others. He’s learning that bravery takes many shapes. He’s learning that he can learn, and he’s learning what he needs for that to happen. He’s a good mentor. He’s learning to be a better friend. He’s kind. He’s honourable. He’s trying to rectify his own mistakes, and he’s trying not to let the mistakes of others continue to impact his life. He’s moving forwards.

[alovesongshewrote]

If you’re taking requests, maybe something about Doux finding the reader absolutely delirious from lack of sleep? I may or may not have gotten literally any sleep last night and although I managed to get through my morning routine pretty efficiently I FEEL my body just wiping out. I will be comatose within the hour.

Sleep, Darling | Hisirdoux Casperan x Reader

Plot:  you’ve been awake for too long and it is not doing you any favours.  Thank god for punk wizards who care about your wellbeing, amirite lads?  (Also, the pure Irony that this is getting posted at like, 2:40 am where i am, rip me i guess)

Word Count: 2,292

Warnings:  A bit of blood is mentioned in passing, the reader isn’t human and probably has adhd or smthn.  Also, Friends is mentioned, like, the tv show, so that’s a thing!

A/N:   if you look closely, you can actually see me projecting onto this one.  I hope you got some sleep anon.

Tags:   @furblrwurblr @einahpetsyarcip @sorrels-scribbling @anxious-stitcher @alive-and-afraid @animedweeb333 @douxiesdamsel @saroski05

Time isn’t real.  It’s a social construct made to bring order to the general chaos that is human existence.  That was why you were up at 5 a.m for the second, maybe third, night in a row.  Was it healthy?  Probably not, but you didn’t need sleep, you needed answers.  Answers to what?  Who knows at this point, honestly.

You couldn’t say you were surprised when you finally noticed the late, or early hour.  You just shrugged it off and went “fuck it, all-nighter,” which was fine for the moment.  But time’s a bitch, and that moment was over pretty fast.  By noon, you were ready to collapse.  The three cups of coffee did not help.  Instead, they made you vibrate at a frequency that could quite possibly break glass.  As much as this sucked for you, it was worse for your lovely friend and co-worker, Hisirdoux Casperan.

Now, our boi Douxie was and is madly in love with you, but shhh, it’s a secret.  You also love him, and that’s a secret too.  Neither of these secrets are well kept, and the only reason you aren’t together is general stupidity.  Literally, anyone else who watches the two of you interacting can tell that you're in love.  Hell, half the town assumes you’re together already.  The other half keeps trying to get you together.  It is not working very well.  But that’s all a digression.  What you really need to know is that Douxie loves you and watching you suffer from a lack of sleep was Not A Pleasant Experience.  You were delirious, shaky, and constantly off-balance.  You could work well enough, but it was clear that your health was not in the same zone.

The final straw came when you cut your hand on broken glass.  You’d dropped a cup, and instead of using magic, you’d tried to fix the mess by hand.  That plan did not work, and you received a bloody slash across your palm for your troubles.

“Ah.  Fuck,” you said, thinking you were whispering but instead speaking at a normal volume.

“What’s wrong, love?”

“‘S nothing, I’ve got it,” you did not got it, especially not in this state, and Douxie had the good sense to figure that out.  The blood was a pretty good hint though.

“Oh, fuzzbuckets.”

“I told you, I’m toooootally fine, there is nothing to worry about.”

“Here, (Y/N), let me help you-”

“No, no, this is, this is-” it was then that your sleep-deprived brain decided to cut off your train of thought and replace it with another, more chaotic train.  You stopped talking and just stared at Douxie for a solid minute.  Or at least it felt like a solid minute.  Time isn’t real, remember that.

“(Y-Y/N)?  You alright there, darling?”

“You’re really cute, did you know that?  Like… really cute.  Steve was right, you could be a model.”

“I-”

“Also, just gonna put it out there, I freakin’ love it when you call me darling.  Like, I know you call most people darling, but it makes me feel special.  Don’t ask why, it just does.”

Douxie wasn’t planning on asking why.  He wasn’t really planning on anything.  Your sleep-deprived half-confession had turned him from a capable individual into a blushing mess in less than a second.  You always had that effect on him, but it looked like your exhausted state was giving you a bit of an edge.

“Oh, sorry, I made it weird.  Anyway, do you think if I brewed my next coffee with Monster instead of water it would wake me up?   Because I’m still tired, and it isn’t fun.”

“I- you- I’m-”

“I think I might try it, honestly.”

“Ok, how about you don’t do that,”  Archie said, swooping in, literally and figuratively, to save the day, “Douxie, can you please get (Y/N)’s hand patched up?  It looks quite painful and they’re dripping blood onto the carpet.”

You were, in fact, dripping blood onto the carpet.  That wasn’t good, “Oh, that’s- I’m sorry.”

“Don’t fret, just go do something about that hand,” with that, Archie smacked Douxie upside the head in an attempt to snap him out of his flustered state.  It was super effective!

“Ahh, yeah.   C’mon, (Y/N), let’s,,, go,,, fix,,, that.”

“Ok,”  you stood, too tired to protest, and followed Douxie into the back of the bookstore, which was literally just his apartment.  

It was a nice place.  Very cozy, very him.  It made you want to curl up and take a nap, but to be fair, literally everything made you want to curl up and take a nap at the moment.  Regardless, his home made you feel warm and fuzzy on the inside and you never wanted to leave it.  Maybe it was the interior decorating, but you knew it was because your favourite person lived there.  What you didn’t know, or didn’t realize, was that you’d just spoken your entire thought process out loud and Douxie heard every word of it.  Once again, the boy was a blushing mess.  If you were awake enough to process things, you would have found it cute.  Or you’d be dead from embarrassment, that one is a bit of a toss-up.

Fighting through his flustered state, Douxie pulled you into the bathroom and collected a first aid kit from under the counter.  While he focused on getting things done, you curled into a ball in his bathtub.  For some reason, your exhausted brain decided that sitting on the edge of the bathtub simply did not Vibe™ but sitting inside the tub was better than nothing, and so you just,,, curled up there.  Douxie was only a little surprised to see you there.

“(Y/N)?”

“D’you remember that time on Friends when Winona Ryder played a closeted lesbian?  That was a fuckin’ trip, man.”

“(Y/N), darling-”

“That whole episode is just- it’s just strange.”

“(Y/N)-”

“Hehe, Stranger Things.”

“(Y/N), love, I need to see your hand.”

“Oh, fuck, yeah, I forgot.  Here,” you sat up, extending your hand out to the wizard.  He took it, sitting on the edge of the bathtub which was fine for him to do, I guess.  Not you though, you were stuck in bathtub jail for sleep deprivation crimes.

You squinted up at his face as he tended to the nasty scratch you’d given yourself.  You didn’t have the capacity to focus on what he was doing, so instead you focused on him.  He was pretty, as you’d said before, but that was always true.  At that exact moment, his brows were furrowed in concentration, his eyes concerned and his jaw set.  His hands were steadier than yours could ever hope to be, especially since you hadn’t been sleeping.  Overall, he looked kind of mad, so you sunk down into your bath-prison, silent and waiting for him to finish so you could get back to work.

Douxie was not mad at you.  He was upset that you hadn’t been sleeping, but he wasn’t mad.  He was just worried for your health.  Your wizard did not appreciate seeing you shaking and sleep-deprived.  He didn’t appreciate it when your current state led you to injure yourself, either.

He wrapped up your hand and gave it a small pat, “Done.  Now, come on, you’re taking a nap.”

His voice surprised you.  It was gentle, calm, not at all angry like you’d suspected.  You found yourself so lost in it that you didn’t realize what he’d said until he said your name, trying to snap you out of whatever haze you were in.

“Oh, wait, what?  No, shit, I have to get back to work-”

“No, you need sleep.”

“Sleep is for the weak, I need to go-” you stood and almost fell over.  You probably would have broken something if Douxie didn’t catch you.  You hadn’t exactly expected to end up in his arms today, and despite the heat rising in your face and neck, you were not complaining.

“(Y/N)-”

“I’m sorry, Douxie, I-”

“You need to sleep.  Please, (Y/N), don’t make me use a spell on you.”

You froze for a second before a smirk crept onto your face, “You wouldn’t.”

“I-”

“You wouldn’t use a spell on meeeeee-” the smirk grew into a full smile as you let yourself go limp, forcing him to move his hands to support you better and pull you closer to him.  Was that your plan?  Maybe.  Was it part of a second, bigger plan?  Also yes.

“You wanna bet?”

“Sure.”

“I-” and then he went silent.  There was a moment of tension where you just stared into each other’s eyes, holding your breath to see what the other person would do.  Your gaze fell to his lips as his fell to yours.  For that moment, your thoughts began to wander far out of your control.  Douxie’s mind was also running rampant but in a different direction.  You were right, he thought.  He couldn't use magic on you.  As far as he knew, you were a human.  Just a mortal being who crawled their way into his life and stayed there, improving the quality of it greatly.  If there was even the slightest chance that a spell may have negative side effects, which most sleep spells did, he wouldn’t dare risk it, especially not on you.  He sighed, tightening his grip on your waist, “You’re right.”

“What?”  Oop, plan going sideways, PLAN GOING SIDEWAYS!

“I’m- not going to use magic on you,” he helped you to stand, and moved to take a step back before you grabbed his hoodie and pulled him back to you, ignoring the sharp sting in your hand.

“Ok, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, hang on there wizard boy-” you took a moment to pull yourself out of the bathtub entirely, “You can’t give up that easily.”

“Wha-”

“Come onnnnnn, make it fun, make it exciting.  Put a spell on me or whatever, just-” you went quiet for a second, but for once you weren’t distracted.  Just quiet.  You had to face facts.  Your plan had failed, and now you had nothing but the truth.

“(Y/N)?”

“Just make my brain stop.  For just two seconds.”

“What?”

“Please.  I’m running on a motor and I can’t stop myself.  I haven’t slept and I have no choice in the matter.”

“(Y/N)-”

“Look, just, take away my free-will if you have to.  Knock me out, magic or otherwise, I just want five seconds where I’m not on hyperdrive,” you were standing on your own now, though Douxie’s arms were still wrapped around you and you hadn’t let go of his hoodie, “Please.”

The bathroom was silent for a minute.  It took that long for Douxie to process what you’d just said.  You feared, for that moment, that you’d said too much.  You hadn't.  Not to him, anyway.

“Come on.”

“What?”

“Come on,” he said, picking you up, effortlessly sweeping you off your feet.

“Wait, what!?” your voice was slightly more frantic, surprise lacing through your words.

“There’s more than one way to get a person to sleep.”

“Oh-?”

He didn’t respond to your question, instead, he carried you out the door and into what you could only assume was his room.  You had no choice but to wrap your arms around his neck and cling to him for dear life until he set you down on the bed.

“Stay here, okay?  I’m going to make you some tea-”

“Wait!” you stopped him, grabbing his wrist as he turned to leave, “I’m… I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to be sorry, my darling,” he sat in front of you on the bed, “You just need to get some sleep, okay?”

“But what about-”

“I’ll cover your shift, you don’t need to worry.”

“I-”

“Just rest, for now, love.  Please.”

“Ok,” your words were a whisper, something that Douxie could only just hear.  The next thing though, he didn’t have to strain to hear at all, “Yeah.  I meant what I said earlier, by the way.  You’re so pretty, it isn’t fair.”

He laughed at this, at you, finally seeing some humour in your shenanigans.  He relaxed now knowing that you may actually get some much-needed rest.  He stood, kissing your forehead and tracing the side of your face with a hand, rough from guitar strings and 900 years of sweeping.

“Worry not, love, you’re pretty too.”

“Hey, wait-”

“Don’t ‘hey, wait,’ me.  You are.  Now lie down, I’ll be back in a second.”

A smile crept onto your face as you followed orders.  Your emo wizard man thought you were pretty.  And he cared enough about you to let you sleep during work hours, in his home, no less.  You let yourself relax into the bed, grinning once again.  It smelled like him, like thyme and peppermint, lemongrass and sleep.  It was nice, comforting.  You could only vaguely think of Douxie as your brain finally took a fuckin breather.  It was everything you needed, honestly.

By the time Douxie came back, you were long gone, lost to your dreams and finally asleep.  He sighed a smile that matched yours on his face.  He placed the cup of tea on the bedside table before grabbing a blanket out of his closet and draping it over you.  You looked so peaceful.  Good.  You deserved some peace every now and then.

He took the cup and left you, brushing a strand of hair out of your eyes as he did.  After making his exit, he placed the still-hot tea on the counter, disregarding it for now before returning to the bookshop.

“How are they?”  his familiar asked, tail twisting in concern.

He gave a final fond look at the door before returning to business, “They’re just resting.”  And for once, you were.

[ghostiewriter]

prologue | tale of a slightly unstable teen hero

Summary: JJ’s life is thrown upside down after a school trip. Now he just decide what to do about his newly found powers and discover just how much his life has changed.

Warnings: contains strong language, a teeny sliver of sexual references, just the three boys being dumbasses? a small smidge of angst (it barely counts) and some fighting, kinda amateur but he’ll learn eventually

Word Count: 8.2K (I’m so sorry)

A/N: ahhh so here’s the prologue! Hope you guys enjoy, it’s a bit of a mess and it wasn’t meant to be this long but oh well! This is just to kinda set up the world, I promise the chapters won’t be this messy! There will be way more Kiara in the next chapter as well, don’t worry! Like I said, this is just a filler chapter! Also this is unedited and I am kinda unwell so lets hope this makes sense :) feel free to leave any feedback!! 

masterlist // taglist // ao3

JJ prided himself in always loving an adventure. A random trip at 3am when one of his buds felt down? Hell yeah! An exploration through the streets of New York when he decided to ditch his Spanish final? Let’s go, dude! A spontaneous road trip with his boys during summer? JJ was down! But this? This just felt like some sick joke.

Admittedly, JJ wasn’t listening in class when the trip was announced. And as Pope liked to remind him every couple of minutes, this whole situation could have been avoided if he had listened in class. But can you blame the guy? A whole day off school to visit some big corporation uptown where he was getting a free lunch—JJ would be stupid to reject that. Yet, JJ should’ve known there would’ve been some catch, some flaw in this trip. And that flaw was that he had to spend the day walking around Cameron Industries, the biggest nerd fest on the East coast.

JJ was bored out of his mind.

Pope was ecstatic beyond belief.

John B was ready to punch JJ in the face if opened his mouth to complain one more time.

“Why call it a trip when all we do is listen to these dudes in lab coats droning on about some weird gene thing? Like c’mon! A trip is meant for relaxing. Where the fuck am I gonna relax around here, huh? The fucking gift shop—“

“Shut up,” John B hissed at the blonde, smacking JJ’s arm for good measure, to which the blond dramatically whined at. “Just please…shut up. You’ve got one more hour until lunch, alright? Don’t ruin this for him.”

JJ huffed as he glanced over at Pope, who was eagerly questioning every scientist they came across. As much as it pained him to agree with John B, he did have a point. There weren’t enough fingers in the world to count the amount of times JJ had dragged Pope into some anxiety-provoking, impulsive situation. The least he could do is suck it up a little and mope silently as they walk through countless fancy labs that probably each cost more than his apartment complex altogether.

“I don’t know why you’re acting so chuff,” JJ huffed, his fingers twisting the rings that adorned his hands—a force of habit when he was uncomfortable and bored. “You usually back me up on this kinda stuff—“ But JJ didn’t need to finish his question. Oh no, because the answer was right there.

JJ smirked as he turned to John B, one eyebrow raised in question. However, his friend seemed much more content staring at Sarah Cameron from where she stood near the front of the group, smiling towards the tour guide like they were close friends. Which they probably were considering they were standing in the building her father owned.

Ward Cameron. Renowned scientist, billionaire and founder of Cameron Industries. A true inspiration. What started as a hopeless experiment in his high school chemistry lab ended up forging Ward Cameron’s path to success in the biggest multibillion-dollar multinational corporation that held the future for chemical engineering. JJ just thought he was some lucky rich kid that had daddy’s money to support his dream.

And it was for that reason that JJ rolled his eyes, nudging his friend out of his daze. “You do know you don’t stand a chance, right?” JJ commented.

Harsh but true. JJ and the rest of the kids that attended this trip went to Midtown High School. True to its name, it was smack bang in the middle of two very different livelihoods. Uptown Queens: home to the kids who live of old money, designer clothes and trust funds. And Downtown Queens: home to working-middle class who would spend the rest of their lives making a sliver of the uptown folks’ wages.

Take a wild guess which area JJ is from.

However, some old dude in the 60s decided to try and bridge the gap between the classes and thus, the school was born. All it did was let each know how much they resented the other. Yet, John B had fallen into the alluded mind-set of that old geezer and set his eyes on Sarah Cameron, the most uptown chick you’ll get. And of course, JJ was there to remind him of that very fact and push him off that imaginary bridge. It was a fool’s hope to combine the uptown and downtown folk; it was a fool’s hope to try and make them get along. It won’t happen now nor ever.

John B flipped him off. JJ only grinned in response.

Nonetheless, that ended up being the most exciting part of the hour. JJ shuffled along at the back of the group, his eyes constantly wandering around the labs. Did he have any clue what any of it was? Hell no, but he was naturally curious and couldn’t help his hands from wandering. Sue him, he was a teenage boy with ADHD and a knack for getting into trouble—he was bound to do something stupid.

His interest in science perked up a bit when he noticed a small enclosure of what looked like completely normal spiders, yet as their tour guide spoke, they were anything but normal.

“Our team have been working on taking the genetic code of three separate species of arachnids and combining them to form a super-spider. One which can survive and reproduce and live as any other would. It is the first step in the future of genetic engineering and modification. With this technology, we could find cures to diseases that were deemed impossible to cure. We could form a stronger, better human race—“

“Isn’t that unethical?” A voice interrupted. Everyone’s head snapped towards the curly-haired girl that stood by Sarah Cameron’s side. JJ knew very little about her—considering this was honestly the first time he had seen her—and he wasn’t complaining…nor was he actually listening to what she was saying. “I mean, won’t this just introduce a future of designer babies and a superiority of the genetically modified over the natural?”

“I understand your concerns,” The tour guide—a young redhead who honestly didn’t look a day over twenty-two but then again, JJ guessed everyone around here was some sort of genius. “But I can assure you there are a number of protocols behind this research that would prevent such a thing from happening.”

“Can you really stop the rich from getting what they want?” Ironic considering she was a rich, uptown chick.

An awkward silence washed over the group before the teacher quickly cleared their throat and directed the tour guide to continue.

JJ—being the foolishly bored teenager he was—made his way over to the unknown girl, standing next to her as they looked at the spiders in the enclosure.

“Poor things.” She sighed sadly. JJ only raised an eyebrow but didn’t question it.

“You know,” He began, his voice smooth and suave—the usual JJ charm he used on girls. “I totally agree with you on all those…ethic…things…” He trailed off, risking a glance towards the girl who only narrowed her eyes at him.

“Really?” She questioned, nodding her head for him to continue.

“Yeah, I mean, save the animals, am I right?” He grinned, nervously scratching the nape of his neck. The girl seemed unamused.

“Uh huh, sure thing, buddy.” She stated before turning to catch up with the group. But JJ’s voice stopped her once again.

“How about I take you out some time? And then you can tell me all about all this ethic stuff.” He proposed, his usual charming smirk on his lips. He was a lady’s man, he knew he was gorgeous and JJ would be a fool if he didn’t use it to his advantage. One small date to charm her before JJ wiggled his way into her bed, then boom—they never have to speak to each other again. Plus, this girl may be one of Sarah Cameron’s wee minions, but JJ didn’t let class get in the way of his ‘love’ life. He just resents the lot of those uptown kids in every other aspect of his life. No harm in fraternizing with the enemy, right? What other people didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them. It’s just a little bit of fun.

“Do you even know my name?” She asked him, her arms crossed over her chest. It took a lot of self-control for JJ not to follow the movement. He cleared his throat, leaning one hand against the enclosure.

“Uh…Samantha?”

“Nice try, asshole.” And with that, she turned around to join the group.

JJ stood there, a little dumbfounded by the encounter. He was taken aback not only by the fact she had just rejected him, but with the sass in which she did so. He would be lying if he didn’t say it was a little hot, but he expected it. Uptown kids always thought there were better, superior to the downtown kids.

But JJ didn’t wallow in his rejection for long when he felt a sharp, stinging pain on his hand. He glanced down, seeing a spider on the back of his hand and his instant reaction was to shake it off. “Little shit!” He hissed, looking down at the small bite mark on his skin.

“Hey, dude, you comin’?” He heard John B call out. He glanced around, unable to spot the spider. He shrugged, JJ has had worse than a small spider bite. He’ll survive.

“Yeah, I’m starving, let’s go!”

Little did JJ know that was his last day as a normal, hyperactive teen.

**********

“I’m telling you something is fucking wrong with me!”

Both boys looked at their blond friend with sceptic looks. It was Saturday morning and far too early to deal with JJ nonsense. Especially when they could barely understand what he was going on about. It was around 6am when John B and Pope received a very distressed call from JJ. Neither one was very sure for what reason, all they heard was ‘freaky’ and ‘fuck’ multiple times during the call. But he sounded like he was really going through something so they eventually went over—arriving at JJ’s place at 7:30am. JJ was too on edge to even try and call them out on it.

“Dude, breathe,” Pope muttered, watching JJ run holes in his carpet from how much he was pacing. “Calm down a little—“

“I can’t calm down, Pope!” JJ snapped, looking at his friends who seemed far too calm. “Like I don’t know if I am freaked out or pumped but just—“ He paused, seeing the look of confusion on his friends’ faces. He huffed and pulled his shirt off, looking at them expectedly. They didn’t react.

“JJ, did you really call us down here on SATURDAY MORNING because you have another birthmark that looks like George Clooney because I will literally murder you—“

“No, no!” JJ hissed before pointing down to his abs, and then his arms. Then he began flexing, yet he was met with blank expressions again.

“Dude, as much as I love staring at your abs, what the fuck are we meant to be looking at?” Pope asked, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“They are different!”

“They are?”

“They are!”

“Uh…how?”

JJ scoffed, as if it were obvious. “They are more defined!”

“…more defined?”

“Clearly!”

John B let out an unattractive snort, pushing his hair back as he leaned back against the wall, all his worry for his friend now gone. He was honestly concerned it was something important. “What’s next? Is your hair too perfect, J? Need a bag to cover how gorgeous you are?” Pope snickered along with him.

“I mean, I am having a good hair day…” JJ trailed off before shaking his head and turning to the two of them again. “But that isn’t all, okay? It gets freakier!”

Both boys looked at JJ with amusement from their spots on his bed.

JJ rolled his eyes before he stretched his hand out, his palm facing the ceiling with his two middle fingers pressed into his palm. Not even seconds later, a THWAP echoed through the now-silent bedroom.

Both teenagers looked down at the string of substance that just existed their friend’s wrist, completely shell-shocked. It was John B who spoke first, looking away from the white substance on JJ’s bed.

“Is that like…the same as…did you just—“ John B points down to his groin area, only for JJ to grimace.

“Dude, no! EW! I didn’t just jizz from my wrist!”

“It looks like you just did.”

Pope quickly kneeled down next to the bed, hesitantly reaching to touch the stuff, ignoring John B’s comments on how disgusting it was. “It feels like…silk,” He murmured in confusion before pulling his hand away, noticing how it stuck to his skin. “And it’s sticky.”

John B gagged in the back, but JJ ignored him. “It’s like glue, a really strong glue! And then after like twenty minutes, it disappears!” He told Pope as he reached for the scissors to help his sticky situation.

“How did you do that though?” Pope’s mind was reeling with the possibilities, the science behind the completely inhumane thing JJ had just done and he had witnessed with his very own eyes.

“I don’t fucking know!”

“Does it have anything to do with that weird-ass bump on your hand?” John B perked up, nodding towards JJ. All three boys’ gazes shifted to his left hand, where in fact there was a small red bump, no bigger than a grape at most.

“Nah, dude, that’s just from the spider bite yesterday.” JJ answered with a shrug. Pope chocked on the air, looking at JJ like he had three heads.

“I—you mean the fucking GENETICALLY MODIFIED SPIDERS FROM THE LAB?!” JJ winced, trying to shush Pope but there was no avail, this boy was going off on a rant. “Are you stupid? Why didn’t you tell anyone yesterday? JJ, those could’ve been poisonous or had long term effects or—“

“Made you some weird mutant with cool powers.” John B added. He quickly shut up when he received the ‘look’ from Pope.

“We have to tell someone at Cameron Industries.” Pope concluded. JJ was quick to pipe up, taking a few steps away from Pope on instinct.

“What, no way! They are gonna stick me under some fancy microscope or inject me with needles full of…stuff! I’m not going back into that geek galore!” JJ stated. Pope looked like he was ready to open his mouth, and start spouting out arguments as to why JJ should head over to the professional scientists over his weird, overnight mutation. But it was actually John B who came to a more mutual conclusion.

“Or we just do our own tests,” John B shrugged, both boys turning to look at him with fairly discombobulated expressions. “C’mon, Pope is basically a scientist and he is smart enough to figure out whatever the hell is going on with you!”

“I don’t have half the equipment they would have—“ Pope tried to argue.

“Look, we aren’t going to find out anything through a microscope. The best way is just go out there and test what he can do. How hard can it be?” John B grinned.

Pope wanted to argue that it was very hard. Though he had read countless papers on the genetically modified spiders, even he didn’t know enough to do a full conclusive examination on JJ and his new state. He didn’t have half the things he needed, but when he looked over at JJ and saw a much more relaxed—and hopeful—expression on his face from when he had suggested returning to the lab, Pope sighed and shook his head a little.

“Just so you both know, I am going to say, ‘I told you so’ when this goes downhill.”

**********

That is how JJ, Pope and John B found themselves standing on the roof of JJ’s apartment complex, the busy streets of New York oblivious to the scientific discovery that is happening above them. JJ couldn’t tear his eyes off the skyline, finding something about it much more relaxing that the potential of just what his new body could do. He was scared—no, scratch that—he was nervous, anxious if you will. JJ couldn’t lie that a part of him was excited. It felt surreal, like something out of one of those comics he used to nick from the uptown kids. Then again, JJ wasn’t very fond of the idea of being some new scientific discovery. It made him feel like he would end up like one of those poor frogs they had to dissect in biology—poor fuckers.

“Okay, so the spiders were made from three separate species to optimize their physical properties—being able to adapt to new environments, heightened senses to avoid predators, enhanced strength and speed, stronger material to create webs for larger prey—all that jazz. No research has been done on the psychological properties though.” Pope rambled, his hands moving wildly whilst both boys stared at him with clueless expressions.

“Which means?”

“JJ could have some really cool powers but could also be going totally insane,” Pope said with a sheepish shrug. “Like I’m talking full Tasmanian devil mode here—“

“Very reassuring, dude.” JJ stated bluntly. He took it all back, he wasn’t excited. He was terrified now. He glanced down at the small bite on his hand, which was slowly deflating as time passed. JJ wasn’t sure if he was relieved or worried that the second the bite disappeared, it could mean something really bad—like him turning into some massive humanoid arachnid that attacks the city. He shivered at the thought. “Right, let’s just get on with this.”

John B clapped a hand on his back, a small smile on his lips. “You’ll be fine, dude, alright? You’re in good hands.” He tried to reassure JJ. And JJ knew that everything Pope was saying was just to help him understand what was going on too, but he couldn’t help but think there was a small part of Pope that enjoyed using JJ as a lab rat. He was a scientist, could you really blame him?

“Yeah, I know.” He said with a curt nod.

“Let’s try the web again, see how far you can shoot it.” Pope piped up, moving to stand on the other side of JJ. “The average spider can shoot a web to about four feet, but these spiders have the DNA of the Darwin Bark Spiders which can shoot webs up to eighty-two feet. I’m gonna go out on a limb and say you could reach the same, maybe more.” He then gestured for JJ to try it out, pointing towards the building opposite then, which was only around eight feet away, at most.

JJ took a deep breath before extending his hand out, the THWAP sounding clear despite the ongoing traffic down below. Yet, the web barely shot out a couple of inches before landing on the edge of the roof with a disappointing splat.

“Well then…” John B trailed off, all three boys staring at the failed web shot.

“You clearly weren’t trying, just concentrate!” Pope said with a clap of his hands. He only received a blank stare from JJ.

“I was trying, dumbass! It’s harder than it looks. It…feels weird, man. Like a sneeze…from my wrist!” He huffed, but Pope only nudged his shoulder to try again.

JJ sighed and turned to face the opposite building again. He raised his arm, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he tried to imagine the web shooting out and reaching the opposing roof. He tried to imagine more web fluid being shot out his wrist, he tried to imagine like he actually knew what he was doing. Not even a second later, the THWAP sound was heard and suddenly there was a white rope of silk extending from JJ’s hand onto the next roof over.

“Holy shit!”

JJ grabbed the web, giving the web a light tug. He was expecting for the web to break, for his hand to be covered in web fluid. But instead the web remained, strong and sturdy as though it was bolted onto the roof.

“This is crazy, dude.”

He snapped his hand back, watching the web breakaway from his palm and flop, hanging from the brick wall like a pathetic piece of string. “That was cool as fuck,” He murmured as he glanced down at his wrists in shock. He gently ran his thumb over his wrist, a delightful shiver running down his back. It caused him to smile a little, thinking about just how far he could shoot these webs.

“Dude, you could swing around like Tarzan now.” John B snickered. JJ gave him a deadpan look but he couldn’t help himself from glancing down at his wrists again.

“You think?”

“Only one way to find out.” John B grinned.

Pope’s eyes widened slightly as he quickly began to shake his head. “You don’t know if the web is strong enough to hold his weight, he could hurt himself or—“

“You calling me fat?” JJ gasped with a pout, a hand placed over his heart. “You offend me, Pope. Thought you were better than this.”

“If calling you fat will stop you from swinging off a building like an idiot then yes, I am calling you fat.” He hissed.

JJ grinned, his eyes quickly searching around before he noticed a large satellite pole sticking out from one of the nearby buildings. It was a bit further away, but JJ let the pride of his last success get to his head. “I can do it, bud, don’t worry about it.”

“That’s my boy!”

“Don’t encourage him!”

“He can do it!”

“How the fuck do you know that!?”

“Sixth sense, my dude.”

JJ blocked out the bickering, taking a couple of steps back from the edge of the roof. A running start never hurt anyone, right? He rolled his shoulders, stretching his neck from left to right. Never once did he let his gaze shift away from the satellite pole. He crouched down a little, already feeling the adrenaline build up in him. “Diver down, boys.” He grinned before he began sprinting to the edge of the building. As he reached the edge, he pushed himself off and extended his arm out, imagining the web wrapping around the pole and seconds later it did. He held the web tightly in his grip as he felt himself swinging towards the building. Whoops and cheers could be heard, though JJ wasn’t sure if they were coming from him or the boys back on the roof.

“JJ, THE WALL! LOOK OUT!”

But JJ was a little too pumped up to even comprehend what Pope was screaming until he noticed the brick wall getting closer. ‘Shit, shit, shit.’ The words echoed in his head and he tried to think of a way to slow himself down. But it was useless as he found himself colliding with the wall, his eyes clenched shut on impact.

“Oh, fuck.” He groaned, his limbs sprawled out like a starfish. A part of him thought he was dead, that maybe he hit the wall way too hard, he had a lot of momentum after all. But the muffled screams coming from his friends was enough to tell him that he was very much alive. “I’m alive!” He yelled out, slowly beginning to blink his eyes open, finding himself face to face with a brick wall. “What the…” He trailed off when he glanced at his hands, finding them attached to the brick wall.

His heart was pounding when he looked down, seeing that he was attached to the wall, very far up from the ground, with nothing suspending him. His mind was reeling, almost as though he was waiting for himself to fall and his body to meet the ground. But it never happened.

“You’re like an actual fucking spider, dude!” He heard John B yell, as though he was right beside him, which caused him to wince a little. He glanced over his shoulder, seeing them still very far away on that roof.

JJ shook his head and glanced up, seeing the edge of the roof a couple of feet from where he was stuck on the wall. He took a deep breath before slowly removing one hand, and when he was sure he wasn’t going to fall, he moved it up higher. Slowly, JJ found himself scaling the side of the building, his heart beating wildly even as he pulled himself over the edge, both feet finding the solid ground of the roof. He turned back to look at his friends, both of whom looked shocked beyond belief.

“What the hell…” He could hear Pope whisper, which only caused JJ’s eyebrows to furrow in confusion.

“This is a lot more complicated than I thought.” He muttered to himself, only now realising that the bite mark on his hand was long gone.

**********

JJ winced a little as he heard the bell ring, indicating the end of this period and the start of lunch—his favourite subject. Yet, JJ wasn’t exactly jumping out of his seat as usual. It was now Monday and everyone was back at school. JJ, Pope and John B had spent the better use of the whole weekend to run around, using JJ like some lab rat and seeing just what he could and couldn’t do. And JJ was fucking exhausted. The amount of times he had face-planted into a wall was beyond funny and he had learnt the hard way that the more on edge he was, the more sensitive he was…well, to everything. The sound of the chairs screeching against the floor made him cringe, the bright LED lights made him want to cry and the feeling of his sweater against his skin was scratchy and uncomfortable. JJ sure as hell wasn’t hyped for his newly found powers if this is what the rest of his life is going to be like.

The blond sighed to himself as he shoved his stuff into his backpack, swinging it over his shoulder and heading towards the cafeteria once he left the class. He kept his head down, finding the small shuffles of his vans against the floor were helping him from cussing out every single student that bumped into him, making him honestly want to scream and stay six feet away from everyone. He tried to reassure himself that he was half way through the day, that he only had a couple of hours left and then he could preferably go hide in a hole somewhere for the rest of his life. Okay, that is a little dramatic but a dark hole sounded great to JJ right now.

But here’s the thing, JJ is a Maybank. He has the good ol’ Maybank luck, which means even when he feels shit, the universe is out to make his life worse. And the universe sent that in the form of Rafe Cameron and his loyal little minions, Topper Thornton and Kelce Smith. Midtown High’s own version of the Plastics, some may say.

By some, I mean JJ. But hey, don’t judge. He was forced into watch Mean Girls by one of his flings awhile back and he won’t lie, the movie slaps. But that is besides the point.

“Oi, Maybank!”

JJ inwardly groaned at the sound of Rafe’s voice. He would much rather hear nails on a chalkboard than whatever Rafe had to say. JJ wouldn’t consider them bullies, they were simply the top tier of the uptown kids who had some sort of superiority complex. And JJ had no issue on challenging them, it was far too easy to wind up a bunch of rich kids who weren’t used to being called out on their bullshit. And it just stuck. They would say something stupid to try and provoke him, and most of the time JJ’s words were enough for them to leave him alone. He had the satisfaction of punching Rafe in the face a few times, but usually Pope and John B were quick to hold him back. After all, it would backfire on JJ if he got into trouble with an uptown kid.

“What do you want?” JJ huffed out, glancing up at the trio. The sight of the three of them almost brought a smile to his lips. Uptown kids and their need to follow trends, they wore the same outfit in different variations and it honestly made JJ want to laugh. The classic preppy look with their pastel sweaters and tennis shoes, it made JJ want to gag. But he contained his vomit as Rafe spoke up.

“Aw, c’mon, Maybank. That all you got today? A bit pathetic.” Rafe snickered, the other two laughing along with their leader. JJ rolled his eyes. The funniest thing about them was their outfits.

“As much as I’d love to talk to you little pastel powerpuff girls, I have much better things to do in my life,” JJ said with a sarcastic smile on his lips as he side-stepped the trio, attempting to make his way past them. He really didn’t have the patience to deal with them today. He had happily planned to steal food from Pope and take a nap for the hour. But the second he felt Rafe’s hand on his shoulder, he knew that wasn’t going to be happening.

“Watch your mouth, Maybank.” Rafe spat, his hand tightening on JJ’s shoulder. The act made him want to cringe away and rip off his skin. The feeling of his hand on his shoulder, his thumb brushing that little bit of skin near the neckline of his sweater, it made JJ want to gag. It felt horrible. He wanted that feeling gone.

“Piss off, Cameron.” He scoffed, harshly jerking his shoulder so Rafe’s hand would lose its grip but it only tightened. In an act of desperation, JJ did the only thing that seemed reasonable. He shoved Rafe away. Now normally, it would be enough to have Rafe stumble a few steps so JJ can make a quick exit. But JJ just so happened to have forgotten that this wasn’t like every other normal time. He wasn’t normal anymore. So, his shove was much more than a wee push, it was more like completely winding Rafe. JJ couldn’t help but cringe when he heard the sound of Rafe’s body colliding with the lockers before he slumped to the ground, a dent now evident in the lockers from the collision. Topper and Kelce looked at JJ with mixed looks of confusion and fear before rushing to their friend’s aid.

“Oh my god, Rafe!”

JJ’s head snapped to the end of the hallway where he could see Sarah Cameron, but she wasn’t alone. Beside her was the curly haired girl from the trip. His eyes widened a little when his gaze met hers, but he was only met with a glare from the mysterious beauty.

“What’s your problem?” She hissed at JJ as the two girls got closer, now seeing the full effect of what JJ had done. JJ gulped a little, his fingers tapping the side of his legs as he tried to think this through. What could he say, ‘oh sorry, kinda lost control of my new powers, I’ll be a little more careful next time’. Yeah, that wasn’t going to work.

“He started it!” JJ blurted out, only to mentally smack himself at how childish he sounded. “I barely touched him, he was being dramatic!” He added but the looks of uncertainty didn’t reassure him that they bought it. He was in the lion’s den here, a downtown kid surrounded by the privileged. He was never going to win. So, he did the only sane thing any downtown kid would do. He got out of there as quick as he could.

“He could be concussed!” Sarah Cameron spoke up for the first time, a frown on her face as she met JJ’s gaze. He could almost feel the judgement oozing from her.

“Maybe he will finally have some brain cells knocked into him!” And with that, JJ ran out of that hallway and didn’t stop running until he was far away from the school.

**********

“I’m sorry what?”

Following the fiasco on Monday, JJ’s week hadn’t been much better. Most of it was spent avoiding the uptown crew whilst simultaneously keeping a low profile, which is very hard for someone like JJ. He was used to being the class clown, milking any attention he got. Now he felt like he was under house arrest or something, trapped to keep to himself and work out what the hell was happening to him. But true to their commitment of being his best friends, John B and Pope were right there beside him. It had been a long and stressful week but they made it through. It was a little exhausting on them but they had each other to lean on. JJ was just glad he wasn’t alone.

But now, sat in Pope’s bedroom on the Saturday night, looking between the two boys with a very concerned look, JJ wasn’t sure his weekend was going to be any more relaxing. He knew the three of them combined weren’t the best combinations. They probably shared a brain cell between them and even then, it mostly resided with Pope and his weird, random facts. They had come up with some really strange, out-there ideas before—like the time they tried to give John B a perm with household products or when they convinced themselves they could do a road trip in John B’s crappy van. But this was the icing on the cake. This was enough for JJ to confirm that his friends had completely lost their mind.

“Think about it!” John B continued, practically rolling on the balls of his feet in excitement. JJ raised an eyebrow but didn’t interrupt him. To be honest, JJ wasn’t even sure where to start with how bad of an idea this was. “You have these super cool powers that are totally useless to everyday life, so why not put them to use? You could be like—the next Batman or something!”

“Batman was a rich dude who made gadgets. He doesn’t even have any powers. How the hell would I be like Batman?”

“Okay, bad example,” Pope piped up. “But just think about it. You could make a difference, be a hero!”

“A really badass superhero!” John B added.

JJ looked at them with a frown on his face. This now just seemed like a deranged joke. He was waiting for them to laugh, to say it was just a silly joke and move on with their usual weekend plans. But they didn’t. They continued.

“I mean, we could be a team! The three of us! You’ll go out and do all the crime fighting, Pope can make crazy gadgets and do all the…tech stuff and I can be your guy in the chair, you know?”

“My guy in the chair?”

“Yeah, you know, the guy in the headset…surrounded by screens…telling you where to go when you need extra help and stuff.”

“What?”

“Like Pope would set it up, but I would be the mastermind behind it! Like you’re stuck in a building and can’t find a way out, I would help you find a route. Your guy in the chair!”

JJ only shook his head, pressing his fingers to his temples to try and not completely lose his temper.

“And like every superhero ever, you’ll need a suit. So, I went looking through some stuff and I found my mum’s sewing machine,” Pope fumbled around in his pocket before he pulled out a small bunch of red fabric. He threw it to JJ, which he easily caught. JJ then realised it was like a ski mask, with two small holes for his eyes. “It’s not much but we can work on it, keep your identity secret and everything.”

“Oh, and you’ll need a badass name! I was thinking like Night Monkey, or—“

“—Spiderling!” Pope interrupted with a grin, clearly proud of it. But JJ had enough.

“Can the both of you just shut up!” He snapped, both boys instantly quieting down, looking at JJ with concerned looks. “Okay, are you out of your mind? Me? A superhero? Hate to fucking break it to you but I am not the superhero type guy, alright? I’m not your friendly neighbourhood nice guy helping old ladies cross the street or getting cats out of the tree! I could give zero fucks about the law cause all its there for is rich idiots to manipulate and use to ruin lives of people like us!” JJ cried out to them, letting go of any hope he had on trying to keep his cool.

“People like us don’t become heroes, alright? We are usually the ones that get locked up. And knowing my luck, I will be thrown straight into some loony house, in a straitjacket because of these powers! You guys have to be absolute fools if you think any of this would work.” JJ huffed as he stood up, shoving the mask into his pocket before making his way to the door. “I don’t care about other people, alright? I care about you guys, my mum and most importantly, myself. Why the hell should I risk my life for a world that won’t appreciate it anyways.” Both boys stood there stunned, looking at JJ with wide eyes and parted lips.

“JJ—“

“No, okay? Superheroes are meant for comic books and movies, not real life, alright? Grow up.” And with that, JJ slammed the door as he left the apartment.

JJ scoffed, muttering to himself as he walked through the dark streets of New York, deciding to take the longer route back home. He needed the time to clear his head, grasp his thoughts. He didn’t know what the boys were thinking, he was definitely not fit to be a hero. Were they out of their minds? Give a guy some abnormal powers and suddenly he should be putting on a cape and preaching morals. That wasn’t JJ, that would never be JJ. He was selfish, arrogant at times and beyond prideful. But he was aware. He knew what he was and he knew he didn’t have what it took to be a hero. Pope and John B needed to stop being ignorant and see that.

He rolled his eyes at the thought and continued his way back to his building complex, hands shoved in his pockets with his right-hand clenching around the fabric of the mask. Small puffs escaped his lips as JJ started regretting taking the long way home. It was October and winter was promising to come early, JJ could tell that much by the stinging cold against his cheeks. The cold was just the cherry on top of his bitter mood.

Yet, as JJ continued to make his way home, he could hear the sound of people talking, causing a frown to form on his face. JJ had walked this way many times, especially during the night, and the chance of passing someone down these streets were fairly rare. Maybe the odd one here or there, but a group of people? Definitely not common.

At first, he ignored it. He had gotten used to the heightened senses over the week, being able to hear things from a distance even when he didn’t try. For all he knew, he could be hearing the muttering of some people a few blocks over. So, he ignored it and carried on walking. But then it started getting louder and clearer. JJ felt his whole body go on alert, the hair on his arm standing up, like his body knew something was off. He could feel it in his gut, a horrible realisation that this wasn’t going to be his usual walk home.

It wasn’t until when JJ turned the corner that he realised just what he had walked into. There stood around five men, all wearing masks that covered the lower half of their faces. They were dressed in all black, probably to draw less attention to themselves, but JJ could see the glint of guns in the light of the lampposts shining down on the street. They stood outside a building, three of them seeming to try and block the view of the other two. It was then when JJ’s brain actually caught up with what he was seeing and realised what the building was. A bank. These guys were trying to rob a bank.

Well shit.

The way JJ saw it, he had two options here. He could turn around, pretend he didn’t see anything and let them get on with what they were doing. Chances were they would either get caught by the police or he would see that the bank had been successfully robbed tomorrow morning on the news. Or JJ could do something about it. He quickly grabbed his phone from his pocket, only to see that it was dead. Of course, it was the good ol’ Maybank luck. He shoved it back into his pocket and looked towards the five men.

Then an idea popped into his head. A stupid, insane idea that was nothing short of self-deprecating and downright dumb. It was short of one of the worst ideas he had ever had. JJ had done a lot of weird stuff in his life but this definitely tops it all. And the worst part was that he was going through with it, because as much as he hated it, it was his only choice right now.

“I’m gonna regret this.” JJ huffed to himself as he snatched the mask out of his pocket and pulled it down over his face, adjusting it so he could see through the small holes Pope had made. He let out a breath, shaking his shoulders a little as he tried to pump himself up, get his adrenaline going.

“You got this, it’s not like they have guns or anything,” JJ muttered to himself as he placed his hands on the wall of the building across from the bank, the one he was currently hiding around so the bank robbers wouldn’t see him, before he began to scale the building. I mean, who would expect the enemy coming from above, right?

He stopped around half way up the building, thanks to the heightened senses he was able to still see the criminals clearly. He watched them closely, seeing only the three men that were on lookout where the one with guns. “Oh, let’s hope this works.” He whispered to himself before extending his arm out.

“What the fuck!” One of them called out as his gun was snatched from his hands in the blink of an eye, his two friends following a similar reaction. JJ wasn’t even thinking about where he was throwing the guns, just as long as they were nowhere near these dudes when he confronted them.

He watched them freak out, yelling at each other as they looked around for the culprit to their missing guns. He heard the half-ass threats they used and tried not to snort before he shot a web to one of the lampposts nearby and swung down, landing gracefully at the top of the lamppost.

“Guys, I hate to break it to you but someone lied, bank doesn’t open until tomorrow morning.” JJ called out to them, giving a small shrug. All five heads snapped up to look at him, and the glares he was receiving was enough to tell him that these guys weren’t big jokesters.

“Piss off, kid, this is none of your business.” One of them replied in a blunt, scruffy voice. It honestly made JJ cringe a little.

“You see,” JJ sighed. “I’ve made it my business so…” He trailed off before snapping his wrist, a web shooting out to stick to the head of the closest criminal and with a firm tug, his head hit the pole before he slumped to the ground.

One of the men growled at JJ, clearly not happy about some weird kid interrupting their wee heist. “You had your warning, kid. Come down and play with the adults.” He taunted before JJ noticed the glimmer of something in the light. A knife. Of-fucking-course the gun wasn’t the only weapon they had on them.

“That’s a bit unfair, isn’t it?” He commented, shooting a web to wrap around the criminal’s wrist, prepared to pull it out of his grasp, only for the robber to tug the web instead, sending JJ flying off the lamppost and falling on his ass to the ground. “Fuck!” He hissed as he quickly jumped to his feet.

“Life is unfair,” The criminal muttered before reaching to punch JJ but he easily dodged it. The speed and agility with which he moved with clearly distracting the criminal long enough for JJ to kick him hard enough that sent him stumbling back into the wall. JJ barely had time to process it before he snapped his hand to the left, stopping a fist that was inches away from his face.

“Nice try, asshole.” He huffed before twisting the criminal’s arm before sending a swift punch to his jaw. There was a satisfying pop sound that told JJ he would be preoccupied for at least a couple of minutes.

He then noticed two of the criminals trying to corner him, and he couldn’t help but smirk a little under the mask at just how cliché it seemed. In seconds, JJ has webs shooting out each wrist, attaching to the chests of each men, before yanking the two towards each other. Groans echoed through the empty street as both men collided with each other.

JJ’s head snapped to the side when he heard an angry battle call as he saw the man with the now dislocated jaw running towards him. JJ crouched down a little before he began running towards the criminal, his arms hooking around his knees. He kept running forwards until JJ felt glass smash around him and the two of them fell through. He quickly got up, wincing at the window he had just broken before turning to the criminal and giving him a good smack in the face—he definitely wasn’t holding back with his strength on that one.

JJ began to work fast, not knowing how long each of the criminals would stay dazed and unconscious for. In no time, he had them piled together, a healthy amount of web fluid keeping them tied together. They wouldn’t be going anywhere—at least for twenty minutes. But it was just JJ’s luck that he didn’t have to worry about that time limit because not even seconds after he finished, he heard the sirens and saw the blue lights flashing down the streets.

Police cars began to surround the bank, creating a semi-circle to prevent any possible escape. Officers began to exit their vehicles, guns set and loaded and now aimed towards JJ. “This is NYPD, keep your hands where we can see them!” One officer called out.

“Shit,” JJ muttered to himself as he raised his hands in the air, watching as officers slowly approached the crime scene.

He watched as a look of confusion washed over their faces as they took in the scene: the smashed window, the five tied up men, the weird silky rope that was binding them together and of course, JJ in his crappy mask.

He watched as they evaluated the situation. Watched as they tried to piece it all together before one officer—the badge telling JJ her name was Captain Peterkin—stopped in front of JJ with raised eyebrows. “Did you do this?”

“Sure did, ma’am.”

“Why?” Another officer perked up, JJ could see his badge said Officer Shoupe.

“They were robbing a bank, what did you want me to do? Sit around making daisy chains until you showed up?” JJ immediately defended, glaring as best as he could with the mask on his face.

Peterkin smiled a little before she cleared her throat, JJ’s attention shifting to her. “Then I guess we owe you a great deal of thanks for your work.”

“All in a day’s work, can I leave now? I’m sure the security cameras will give you all the answers you need.” JJ stated as he already began to take a few steps away from the crime scene, walking backwards.

“Can we at least know your name?” Peterkin asked.

JJ looked down at his wrists before he snapped them up, watching as the web attached to nearby building. He looked at Peterkin and couldn’t help grin under his mask as he answered her question before tugging on the web and swinging away into the night.

“Call me Spider-Man.”

Taglist: @alphinias @popcornhook @loveyatopluto @teamnick @peanutbelley @iccyyyybitch @jiara-maybank @donkey-is-my-spirit-animal @carissarose16 @unspokenfaith @largedenominationsplease @jiaaras @homebody-nobody @smileymikey @hvitstark @shaymq7 @hmspogue @falseungodlyhours @aarchiess @rcsales @raeoffuckingsunshine @jjskiaras @parker-holland-osterfield @thesadprose

[babyspacebatclone]

My brain just Reese’s on me and combined to things into something I find interesting.

TL;WR: I babble about representation of diversity and how people assume they’re “normal” unless they are exposed to examples diversity they might identify with. Horde Clones are briefly mentioned, but that metaphor gets lost pretty quickly. My appologies.

The discussion around this corner of crazy of the past 24-ish hours (outside of the obvious thank you USA for doing your job) has been “how to tell if you might identify as ND.” And @rainoverthemountains posted a very good comment:

I think sometimes it’s hard to recognize neurodivergence in yourself because neurodivergent traits are considered part of this weird, ���other’ category of human behavior, imposed by this autism thing or ADHD thing or mental illness thing or whatever it is in your brain that society considers the thing that’s wrong with you, whereas the things you see yourself doing are just the things you do, perfectly natural to how and who you are, nothing ‘other’ about them. It can be easy to draw the conclusion that since a thing you do feels so natural, normal, and reasonable to you, it must not be part of this ‘other’ that’s associated with neurodivergency. But in reality, the ‘othering’ of neurodivergency is where the flaw in the reasoning lies.

Which Reesed in my brain with the conversation a bit ago about the Horde clones quietly having “defects,” but assuming because Prime isn’t actively punishing them about it their attempts to serve him are still acceptable. Because Prime sees all and knows all, and only allows the Light. If I live and serve, I must be serving the Light, and therefore I am not Defective.

It’s a lot of that with identities and chronic conditions. I function well within society, I still get stuff done, I must be “normal” and just need to pull my weight a bit more if I’m struggling.

I don’t actually want to get married, but society tells me everyone fets married and has kids? Well, I’m obviously straight, so let’s find someone of the appropriate gender and do my duty.

I don’t like these parts of being A Man, but obviously all other guys really feel this way and they just suck it up. Gotta work harder on being A Man, it’ll make things easier in the end.

Yeah, I have trouble catching my breath on Mondays, but that’s because I just lay around the apartment all weekend. Once I get moving I’m ok, as long as I take a sit every once in a while. Oh, yeah, buy more pads, man I wish my period would let up. (Yes, this one is me letting myself bleed to death because seriously, how could a period be deadly oh I now can tell you...)

If we don’t discuss the traits people do experience - not having sexual attractions, and that’s ok; not being comfortable with assigned at birth gender, and that’s ok; when chronic pain or anemia or whatever has gone on long enough, and that is not ok - people don’t know. They assume they’re doing their job, and if they’re struggling it’s a personal fault.

But because they’re still walking, talking, “serving,” this current state must be “approved,” right? They must be neurotypical or gendertypical or healthy but lazy. If you get through day by day, you don’t need to push further.

When neurodiversity only matters when people stop being able to function, we misserve our society as a whole. Because then you’re not “gay” enough to get representation. You’re not “ADHD” enough to get treatment. You’re not “on the Spectrum” enough to participate in the conversation.

And that, my friends, is not ok.

[cynicaldesire]

Since I’m having trouble writing, I’ll just make an update post. Maybe that’ll help me feel better, get some things off my chest.

Not much to get off my chest tho. My husband had a like 2week break and we sat around mostly playing Monster Hunter Rise for the duration.

Shortly before his break, though, I was having chest pain and a toothache. My teeth have looked pretty gnarly and my gums have been receding for a while but language barrier so we’ve been too scared to go to a dentist. But we have to now because I started have Chest Pain.

My husband’s father died from heart failure. So I kept expecting my chest pain to go away so I wouldn’t have to scare him with it. But after like day 4, when the pain hadn’t gone away, I finally broke down and told him about it. He had like 3 days of work, so we agreed that I would be super careful and we lost a lot of sleep, but I checked my heart rate using my phone and tried to take it easy until my husband’s break started. We headed to the big hospital like a block away from the clinic we usually go to just in case my chest pain was serious. We struggle our way through language barriers and I explain my symptoms to the doctor. It was mostly some burning pain at the time. Doctor has me get an ECG and some bloodwork. He tells me the ECG is normal so my actual heart muscle is fine, but the bloodwork says my liver is inflamed in response to something, but it’s not an infection, so he’s gonna prescribe me some NSAIDs and tells me to come back in a week. My husband says that I also have been having some tooth pain. The doctor freezes with a thinky face and says to get my teeth checked and to come back in a week. We ask if he has any suggestions on dentists. He says NOPE! and leaves. We head to checkout and while waiting for them to process my stuff, the doctor stops by checkout also and I’m like Hey. He nods and heads out. We spent a total of like... 4 hours there. Total. For the ECG, the bloodwork, etc.

Go home, take the meds, try to take care of my teeth, get Listerine. Sit around and try to take it easy for a week. We go back, the burning is gone and my teeth have overcome their problem. Doc asks if I’m okay now, I say yeah, seem to be, but now I have random pinchy pains. He says I should come back in a month. Husband and I can’t so the doctor is like Okay well, you’re fine, but if it gets bad again... Come back.

Due to my being broke, uninsured, and having a chronic illness, I do a lot of armchair doctoring on myself. There’s a limit to it, of course, but I try to research my own health issues or treatments after visiting a doctor. I found so much more information on PCOS on sites like fucking Reddit than by going to a doctor for years. So after the doctor told me I was okay, I looked up why I might have chest pain if it wasn’t related to a heart attack or something. And one of the options was a pulled muscle.

I thought back to the week before the chest pain started. Other than the toothache and swollen gums, I had been doing a bunch of exercise. I did a bunch of Ringfit and hip lifts and situps and stuff. And I was like Hm. Did I injure my chest muscle overdoing the Ringfit?

I, of course, informed the parents of all of this. My husband’s mother was informed and I was worried she would be deeply upset because she lost her husband to heart problems. But then both parents were like “You went to the doctor? You have medications? Well you seem to have it under control, so let’s bitch about my problems.” Meanwhile, I’m over here having trouble sleeping because I’m worried I won’t wake up. But okay. When my husband went back to work, I Skype’d with my mother and she seemed more irritated that I had interrupted her evening than happy to talk to me or worried about my Chest Pain. Also my dad has to get up at like 3am, so when I called her, she was worried her getting loud and animated as we do was going to wake him up.

(husband’s mental health doctor struggles and a story about library card nonsense under the cut)

Husband has also been seeking professional help because he believes he has ADHD. He’s been having a lot of problems, mostly mentally and emotionally, and he traced all the issues he’s having to ADHD. So he went to an English-speaking psychiatrist for medication. The shrink said he wanted to treat the anxiety before the ADHD in case anxiety is the only issue. My husband, due to his job, is very good at asking questions, so he asked the doctor how many people he prescribes this medication to. And he said 100% of his patients. Well, the medication didn’t seem to help, so on the followup appointment, the doctor said Oh, you’re just taking too much. My husband was like It’s supposed to reduce my anxiety, but instead it’s making my anxiety worse, it’s giving me mood swings, and generally making me very angry. And also sex is more difficult. Doc said I’m gonna reduce the dosage because I can’t treat your ADHD without getting rid of the anxiety. Husband came out of the appointment angry and defeated. But now he’s taking less (and it might be helping?)

Soooo yeah. I try to brush my teeth at least once a day (up from the like once every 20 years I did it before) and I use the No alcohol Listerine in place of brushing sometimes because you can. I skimmed an article about how to take good care of your teeth and it said to not actually rinse when you brush and mouthwash in place of brushing sometimes. I drink almost exclusively soda so I try not to drink any for at least 30minutes after brushing or mouthwash.

We hung out with the friends a couple weeks ago and they said we should start up a new DnD campaign because one of our friends has a roommate in his small apartment and can’t rejoin the old one. The roommate is a friend displaced by a breakup, but he seems to have a new apartment and the moveout date keeps moving. Our DM is getting tired of it and one of our other friends wants in because he’s lonely and DnD is great, so he said we should start up a new campaign so he can join. So we’re setting up for that, just in case.

In order to work on my writing, I’ve skimmed a lot of tips articles after watching a bunch of YouTube lectures and videos. I kinda hate reading and I feel like a huge fraud because if I want to write, I should like to read. But I don’t want to risk buying books I don’t like and having piles of books on my Kindle that just rot. And also, you know, I’m broke. Why spend money on something I won’t get any enjoyment out of? Just a waste at that point. Coulda bought some McDonald’s with that money. Or something. So I thought about the library. I don’t have an active library card, but I knew my Dad had one, so I asked to use his to check out ebooks. He obliged and I started getting books that everybody recommends, like The Name of the Wind and Tales of Earthsea and all this other stuff. I also got Mistborn: The Final Empire and some other Sanderson books, and the Witcher series. But not every book was available at my library. I found an app that let me look at other libraries’ catalogs and I found the missing books at the library where my husband’s family and friends are. I asked our friends if they had a card among them, and the one guy that works at the library has one but his card is always maxed out for checkouts. As an employee, he can check out like  a max of 99 things. And it’s always maxed out. He offered me something I wasn’t comfortable with, so I declined. So I asked my husband to make a card. He declined. So I asked him to ask his mom to make one. She said she doesn’t live in the city, so she can’t. She sent us an email with my husband’s sister’s name for a library that I didn’t ask for and didn’t have the books I was looking for available. Because it uses a different service than the one I was looking at apparently so I could use that one but they didn’t send actual login information.

My husband, because of the way he communicates with his family, asked his mother for help with this library endeavor very cavalierly. He was just loosey-goosey with it. Something about it rubbed me the wrong way, but I figured they would handle it. His family intimidates me, has rarely made me feel welcome, and so I usually leave myself out of conversations with them. But after they just stopped worrying about the library thing, because I felt like I was right and all they had to do was make an effort, I took it upon myself to email his mom directly. Due to childhood trauma or other paranoia, I’m always worried about being misconstrued or misunderstood, so I end up being very verbose. See above. So I made a long email explaining why I wanted the library card, why I was asking for their help specifically, and included links to the places I saw you could make a library card and how they didn’t have to leave the house to verify it because of COVID. Then, to make sure it wasn’t demanding, that it was friendly, I added some stuff at the bottom about how I wished them well and I was proud of my sister-in-laws’s weight loss journey and how my chest was doing and blah blah. I sent this email right before bed. I assumed that his family would work together to figure it out and if they didn’t wanna deal with it, they would say they weren’t interested. The worst they can do is say no and I’ll have lost nothing except time.

Woke up to an email from his mother saying, in that malicious compliance/corporate politeness way, that she couldn’t make a library card because she didn’t live in the city and she’d be happy to make one for one of the cities that did work. Also, she hoped I was feeling better.

I had had a bad day prior. The day before, waking up had been near impossible, my husband ordered McDonald’s delivery for breakfast and I wasn’t hungry so we sat and watched an anime I didn’t want to watch while food sat getting cold in front of me. I ended up not being hungry for 8hrs. We were talking to the group about DnD, but also needed to shower, so while my husband got in the shower, I said some things to the group and then hopped in the shower. Upon telling my husband what I said, he had this look on his face like he was planning how to damage control what I had said, despite not even knowing what it was. My exhaustion had left me vulnerable, so I couldn’t deal with it and cried. He apologized and we talked about it. Bolstered by this conversation, I went on to boldly converse with other people, which is what allowed me to send that email to his mother in the first place. So upon her declaration that she couldn’t help me, I decided to help myself.

So I went through the process of making an account using my husband’s name for the library I wanted and it worked, I think. It’s not verified or maybe it’s not in the city, so I couldn’t check out an ebook. So I was back to square one. Not only back to square one, now I was doubly wrong. I had pursued this process in righteous indignation, after having directly contacted his mother, and been proven wrong. So now, not only was I dumb and wrong, I had put myself out there. I was wrong on stage.

My husband, wanting to help, went and acquired the one book I was using as my litmus for me. There are probably others I could look up, but at least I have that one and it’s sequel.

But yeah, that’s what’s going on with me.

[wexhappyxfew]

So I’ve been trying for ages to think of a question for TT and I can’t bc I am a dummy SO I thought maybe you if there was a question you wanted someone to ask and no one has then answer that! OR I’d love for you to talk about how writing has helped you/made you happy if you’re comfortable with that! I LOVE YOU SUNSHINE 🌻🌻🌻🌻

AWWW ANGE DONT WORRY ABOUT IT I SWEAR <3 <3 and oooooh that’s an interesting take!!! i haven’t ever thought about that actually, but now i might LOL! and ooooh yes! I LOVE THAT OTHER QUESTION TOO! imma just do both THANK U ANGE!!! <3

hmmmmm....a question i wanted someone to ask....

i’m thinking of doing some talking about character flaws and possibly some strong female ocs and just my take on that! 

For me, character flaws have just always MADE the character, a human being. But it’s not for everybody, but for me, as I am a flawed person in many aspects, writing flawed characters has helped more than anything. All the characters I write are deeply flawed just like every human being. They all have pros, but they are all also weighed out by the cons of life. But that’s simply what makes us human because no one’s perfect.

For example, Charlotte Tarvers, even though she’s this ‘sunshine’ girl, who always makes people smile and laugh, and feel good, and cared for, she’s also deeply hurt by her past, and has attachment issues. Part of being a medic, is strictly not getting attached to the people you might end up seeing dying or wounded - and that’s what Charlotte really struggles with simply because she is an extroverted people person who cares for everyone and she can’t help and it hurts her in the end. 

Hazel Parker, while being a soft and innocent person, that can shoot straight on a sniper and can get zeroed in and focused and honed in and obey orders, has trouble speaking her mind, she doesn’t trust easily, she also let’s things get to her constantly and then her emotions come into play. Only when she’s in war and numb to it all do emotions stay out, but many of her decisions are emotion based and it’s painful mentally for her. She constantly battles her mind simply because she doesn’t say much but her mind is too loud and that just is something that affects her greatly - especially after her wound that she getts.

Catherine McCown, while a fantastic leader, and a confident, intelligent young woman, she tries so hard to be perfect and then that’s when she breaks - after staying strong simply for too long and then her emotions comes and she starts heavily doubting herself in the process of it all. She tries her hardest she genuinely doesn’t feel like it is never enough because people always die in the end or get hurt and she takes it personally sometimes, too personally and it hurts her in the long run.

Elizabeth Elliot, as tender, gentle, and hilarious as she is, struggles with her mental health. In many circumstances she is very mentally strong, she can block the pain but in others, after learning of her hyperkinetic disorder (ADHD), which it was called in the 1940s, she hits that downward slope where she feels she can’t escape. And I have only seen a few OCs that struggle with mental health (various types of mental health), such as a disorder like ADHD, so I decided it was time to write a character like that. And her ADHD is what really makes her struggle throughout Bastogne to the end of the war. It causes her to lack in the ability to do her job right - there’s the distraction, the mind-eating thoughts, the inability to fully concentrate, the rereading and getting nowhere, the frustration - all of it - and that makes her really struggle more than anything. 

And....for a little sneak peak at the Flip Children (Natia, Klimeck, and Ryzshard) I will briefly discuss their flaws...

Natia Filipska, is genuinely a warrior, with a highly intelligent mind, who easily understands people from one to the other, but she grows easily numb and cold to others and flushes out her emotions in dangerous situations, ideally making her reckless, distant and tough to work with. Which doesn’t bode well for a character who HAS to work with others to survive. But that is just in short - I can’t spoil much more! 

Klimeck Filipska is, like her sister, intelligent, hard-working, and a powerful role-model and leader for all, but her anger sets her apart from others. She lets anger in many cases take over her decisions and it ends up getting friends injured and possibly even killed in the end. And it is something she takes very personally because she is very much 0-80 within seconds and her decisions are angry and emotionally driven simply because she has seen what the Nazis have taken and it angers her more than anything. It never amounts to something good in the end sometimes.

Ryzshard Filipski, who albeit, is smooth, charismatic, and deceptive, is, like Natia, VERY reckless, and it almost gets him killed sometimes. And sometimes he is purely too humanity driven. It almost makes him lose his cover. But he is in fact the youngest sibling, the youngest and only brother, and so he watches what his sisters are like in their way of being driven through the war and tries in a sense to be a bit of the light - but he is only a 20 year old man - he is still a child in the war, struggling with the idea that he lost his innocence with it as well. 

And don’t get me wrong, they are all deeply flawed but they are ALL strong oc’s, strong female ocs and a strong male oc. The 6 female ocs I have I believe, are all strong in their own individual way, whether it be quietly or loudly, they are all strong. Quiet people can be strong and confident people can be strong - and they don’t take bs either :) They are all strong, just like you all are, even if you have flaws - they make you stronger. 

And Ryzshard, as my ONLY male oc, I didn’t want to make him the stereotypical male oc - the always brave, always angry, emotionless sorta of persona - he has emotions, the most innocence out of the flip children, and he cares the most, and that’s what I really hope to get across even through his recklessness - he cares. 

“how writing has helped you/made you happy if you’re comfortable with that!”

So, this is a question I’ve gotten throughout the day, but I’ll put it in short!! Writing has just always been an outlet for me, and a way to express myself. When I’m stressed, upset, or angry, I come and I write and know that I’m in my own world. I’ve always found motivation in myself to write because I always just do it for me, really. I love everyone and appreciate everyone who reads my works and my stories, but I mainly do it because it is something I love doing and something that has helped me in more ways than one. 

It just always makes me so happy to make art on a screen with black and white words - it truly is an art form for so many people and for someone like me and as an artist myself, to create art with words is something I just adore. 

And, off topic sorta LOL, but I feel the reason I keep having motivation day in and day out to just keep writing, is because I do it for me? If that makes sense? I always tell myself ‘you’re doing it for you queen, you’re doing what you always want, and just for you - how ADORABLE is that - it’s like treating yourself” and I just tell myself that always, because I’m like wow, I’m doing something for me that’s fun!

And writing’s always there, it doesn’t leave, it doesn’t judge, it doesn’t make fun of you, it doesn’t turn cold, it doesn’t lie - it’s purely just WRITING - and I’ve always loved that about writing. Writing’s just always been there <3

thank you sm for the ask ange!! this was genuinely super fun! and i loved being able to talk about my oc’s and their flaws a bit, since i feel i needed to explain them just a bit and why they are flawed like a normal human! and plus talking about my writing experience and the true work of art writing is, is something i will always rave about!!! thank you <3

[docboots]

On Hereditary Angioedema and Medical Marijuana

     I was born with this rare disease that only really started getting problematic when I was a teenager, and has been getting worse as the years go by. It is called Hereditary Angioedema (HAE for short). It isn’t very well known, and it has a number of triggers. The most notable is stress. Physical stress will likely cause a reaction in the area (say I get hit in the hand, my hand will be affected), while mental stress causes life to play a bit of a wheel of fortune game with me. I liken it to being deathly allergic to stress, even if there are other triggers and it isn’t an allergy really. Antihistamines and other medications for allergies just don’t do anything. Minus make me sleepy. Likely in too much pain to sleep, so my attempts to summon the Sandman and capture him in a cage to answer for ding dong ditching me is just added to the list. Comparing it to an allergy is just the simplest way to describe it.

     Much like how a bee allergy is often depicted, my limbs, organs, and even more..sensitive areas can swell to 2-3 times their size. This is painful and annoying at its best, debilitating normally, and can be fatal at its worse. It seems to hit everyone differently, which isn’t surprising given that stress is a factor and everyone is unique in that regard, and with me the potentially fatal area that likes to torment me most is the gastrointestinal system. Annoyingly, I also have what some with HAE call ‘wandering swelling’. So, say my hand swells up. This normally lasts for 2-5 days. As the swelling goes down, it will ‘move’ to the forearm. As it goes through its process, it can them more to my bicep or, oddly, to my other arm.

     To add to this, I have ADHD. The variant that is especially prone to hyperactivity. You may be under the assumption that a hyperactive person is basically Daffy Duck when he has lost it. ‘Woohoo! Hoho! Woohoo!’ Running everywhere, interacting with everything. Robin Williams on stage is another way to describe it. I am the guy that meth addicts have mistaken for being on crack or meth. I have never touched anything harder than Pot, and that is for medical reasons. Stone sober people think I am one something and pissy, as I talk a mile a minute.

     Here is the thing, least with my type, even when we are calmly sitting down, our thoughts are pumping. Our minds are going a mile a minute. Every sound, every bit of movement. We might not make a visual note of it, but somewhere in our minds, we have examined every aspect of it. Stressing out over it, freaking out about it. To put it simply, I am not 100% certain I know what it truly means to chill. I know being relaxed, but I know ME being relaxed. Which still tends to involve my mind ripping some subject apart. Just depends on what I feed it. I am always stressed.

The kicker is because they are afraid that I am going to go off and sell ADHD medicine instead of, you know, use it for the disorder it was invented for, I have been unable to find someone who will prescribe an Adult like me medication. I have trouble even finding someone who will diagnose me. I was diagnosed and treated with countless ADHD medicines as a kid. It was just one I became a teenager that the medical profession decided my mental health did not outweigh the potential they couldn’t trust me not to sell my medication. So, as of writing this, I have been unable to find official assistance on ADHD for nearly a decade, if not more. Not without lack of trying.

     Going to the doctor has proven only helpful in these cases where I could potentially die from my body’s overreaction to stress. The only medication they will offer me are these steroids that drove my birth mother, with the same disorder, mental. Kinda happens when you have to take steroids for the rest of your life I hear! Luckily, as with most people on the west coast, I had friends who smoked pot!

     Turns out, with my mixture of ADHD and traumatic childhood/adult experiences, that shit evens me out. Instead of countless different medications flung at me with side effects including: Sparking my HAE like crazy, that lovely feeling of being a mental zombie, feeling claustrophobic in a meadow, INTENSE CAPS DEMANDING IRRITABILITY, and potential organ failure; I get the munchies. Maybe more into Steven Universe and Adventure Time than is healthy at my age.

     Problem is that in order the get this magical medicine I have to go through all these forms and pay quite a bit of money (sometimes they quote $85, sometimes $500. I get fired from jobs for this disability before I can even remember my manager’s name, so that ain’t happening. Don’t even get a discount off the meds! Just the POTENTIAL to not be fired for the medication. Yet I can easily get a prescription for this medication that’ll make me gain possibly 5 new mental disorders in the process and go postal and medical insurance will pay off every bit of that. Doctors even agree with me on this, but they can only apologize that they aren’t allowed to give a prescription. Only recommend it. That isn’t their fault, the fact it is still considered more dangerous than cocaine. I consider it far safer than Prozac. Especially if mixed with other medicines.

     Now it is recreationally legal! Hooray. You can’t read my tone. Let me try again, Hoo-fuckin-ray.

     You see, a problem with it being legal, yet still being unable to afford the cost of that ‘recommendation’ then you are just another guy wanting to smoke up. The deals for medicinal weed painted everywhere while you still can’t afford the subscription fee for the price.

     “It is worth it in the savings!” The counter said. Tell me, would you feel comfortable hearing that when the context is the medicine keeping you stable both physically and mentally? When you still have to pay for the medication but at a discounted price, why doesn’t all the evidence showing this would assist me get me that card? That card that would have saved me a world of stress when I had to hold the label of criminal just for waiting for a business minded self starter (we give our dealers many names to make it feel less horrible. I am partial to medicine man!) in an alley or a parking lot hoping no one has realized you have been sitting in that car an hour, and have done so every week for months. That is, if you are lucky enough to find a dealer who won't ghost you, cancel at the last moment (as in an hour after when you were supposed to meet them), or just run out.

     When it was made legal, I sat in lines with others who couldn’t afford the medical card while the more vocal, the ones here just to get high, talk about all the amazing stuff they can afford. How shatter and dabs are fantastic, how all these different edibles and strains work. While I, thanks to my incredibly understanding and supportive Dad, have $20 for that week, and the next, and the next. I have to string that $20 out as long as I can. Not for any fault of my Dad’s, there are still other bills that must be paid. The help he has given me so far is enough the guy deserves a medal or a statue in my eyes, but taxes can really make something that is already rather pricy quite high. So it is depressing, frustrating, and potentially soul destroying to see your medication evolve from political punching bag to cash cow, while still falling into the cracks.

     But those munchies are gonna just destroy America, right guys?

[chronicallyspokenfor]

What do I feel?

Tired

Listeless

Weightless & Heavy @ the same time

Hopeless

Restless

Lack of energy

Surplus of doubt

Fear of the future

Fear of what those around me thinks of me

Fear that my abuser was right about me from the beginning

Fear of lack of worth

Fear that I am in fact lazy & not a hard worker

I feel as though this feeling of never knowing how to function properly in this world or my place in it… this feeling will never go away

That people don’t like me or enjoy having me around

I constantly feel the fear of talking too much

That I’m never going to make anything of myself

That, that high quality content needed from me, will never be produced thus meaning my value will never be what I want it to be. I will always be worthless.

I feel like theres a deep brokenness inside of me, something that only someone immensely close to you could inflict. For only they lay so deep within your heart to puncture it so painfully. Others have tried but they simply don’t matter as much so it doesn’t ache the way they wish it would.

I feel as though there is a deep sense of betrayal and misplaced trust that has become confusingly laced with familial love and familiarity.

This sense of familiarity almost seems to make the abuse and degradation seem normal. I think that I have fooled myself over the years into thinking that I am strong enough to take verbal and emotional abuse.

That since others told me from a young age, “wow you had to deal with so much growing up and yet you're so normal” that this meant that no matter what was said to me I could deal with it. I could internalize and it wouldn’t affect me the way it does others.

Im starting to think that this was a wrong approach. I think that because I allowed this abuse to continue and become normal it allowed my abuser to increase the dosage that I received on a weekly basis. I think my abuser thinks I can take this sort of emotional torment.

Now when my self esteem fails me, and my confidence leaves me crying on the dusty floor inside my heart, I recognize that over the years by internalizing these words, by internalizing this pain it was slowly tearing me apart. Inside out. But it did it in such a slow way that I didn’t even notice I was bleeding out. And yet here I am, years later. Still enduring and wondering what is the point of living.

There are those who tell me I’m not depressed

That I don’t seem depressed.

So I must not be.

But my momentum has been lost.

The thing that kept me going despite all troubles, my inner drive is gone.

I don’t know where its gone, to be honest I’m not even quite sure where I got it from in the first place.

But I find myself wondering when is God going to decide enough is enough and get me out of this situation.

I know what 1 corinthians 10:13 says, he doesn’t give me more than I can bear and on top of it he always provides the way out.

I don’t know why he thinks I can bear this… why do you think I can bear this God? I’m pretty sure I can’t. I really feel I cant.

The heart is treacherous. These feelings are treacherous. What my abuser does to me.. thats treacherous.

I think my ADHD is what gives me my spurs of energy to make it seem as though everything is alright but I find myself losing that feeling of inner peace quickly. With the same rate of velocity I fall down the well of my emotions and find myself cold, wet and alone in the vices of my mind.

I long for love but I doubt that anyone has the energy to deal with me when I’m in such an emotional state.

I know I need to grow. I can feel the need, the desire I have to stop using the word “I” and yet here I am.

Forever broken or so it seems.