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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 year ago

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Outside the Lines 5

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsessive compulsive behaviour, kidnapping, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Reader has her routine and her fellow patient gets in the way of those.

Character: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers, (lumberjack AU)

Note: I'm feeling it so why not.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

Steve takes you downstairs. You marvel at the large kitchen, finished with dark walnut and brass. Bucky sits, dragging his fingertips over the island, leaning as he stares grimly at the wall. His eyes drift to you slowly and you flinch, cowering and shifting to hide partly behind Steve.

“She calm down?” He asks brusquely as he taps his metal fingers on the wood.

“Buck, she just needed to settle in, isn’t that right, sweetheart?” Steve reaches back blindly and grabs your arm, drawing you forward, “she’s going to apologise.”

You look at him. You can’t hide your surprise at his declaration. Apologise. For what? They lied to you. How could you know any better? But you suppose you should’ve listened. You nod and Steve lets you go.

You face Bucky and step closer, folding one hand over the other.

“Bucky,” you begin.

“Sweetheart,” Steve hovers behind you, “you call him sergeant.”

Your lips part and you look down at your feet. You place them within the lines of the hardwood and count to three. You’d been standing right on the lines. That's bad luck!

You look up again and bring your hands over your chest.

“Sergeant,” you voice quavers and you swallow to steady it, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. But I know now and I’ll be good because I know you’re just trying to help me.” Your eyes well as you remember his angry voice, “I’m real sorry about throwing the tea at you. I was only afraid.” You touch your cheeks and sway back and forth, “I’m not a mean person.”

His blue eyes are icy and his jaw set. He arches a brow and peeks at Steve. He raises his chin and lets his expression soften as he turns to you fully. He tilts his head as he grips his hip.

“Doll,” he says softly, “I forgive you. But I won’t a second time. Got it?”

“Yes,” you pout.

“We talked,” Steve says, “she understands now.”

“Ah,” Bucky hums, “good.”

You nod and look from one to the other. Steve touches the small of your back as he steps up beside you. You slouch and shy away from him.

“Why don’t you show the sergeant how sorry you are and make him a nice breakfast?” Steve suggests, “you know what they say about men.”

You shake your head. Who is they and what do they say?

“The way to his heart is through his stomach,” Steve chuckles.

“Oh,” you bat your lashes, “so… um, what should I make?”

“Coffee,” Bucky grumbles as he rubs his eyes.

“There’s bacon and eggs in the fridge, can you cook that?”

“Yes! Yes, I can cook,” you proclaim, “I know how.”

“Of course, honey,” Steve drags his fingertips up your arm, “you can do so much. I know you can. A lot more than you think. And we just want to help you learn how to do more.”

You don’t want to seem ungrateful. It’s only confusing. You did overreact. You didn’t even let them explain. It’s no wonder they got a bit pushy.

“Thank you,” you chirp, “you’re so nice.” You look at his hand as he caresses above your elbow, “and this is a very nice house. I’ve never been to a cabin before. It’s so nice you would bring me here.”

“Ha, yeah, you know, me and Bucky built it,” Steve explains.

“You did?” You round your eyes and take another look around. You can’t imagine all that work. “Wow!”

"Coffee," Bucky grits as he leans his chin in his hand.

"Oh, yes," you twiddle your fingers and flutter around, watching your feet as you step between the trim of the hardwood slats of the floor, "I can make... coffee. I don't drink it you know, just tea. Coffee makes me... hyper!"

You spin cluelessly. Not knowing where to begin. You have no idea where everything is. There are no labels like your apartment. Every shelf, every cupboard has the precise contents listed on the outside, just like you like. So everything is in order. You hate chaos.

Bucky grumbles and Steve lets out a soft breath, "sweetheart, one step at a time," he girds.

Steve comes forward as you step back to watch him open a cupboard. He pulls down a bag of coffee, burlap with print stamped across it. The smell of its contents seep into your nose. Comforting even if its too bitter for your taste.

"Oh, thanks," you step forward carefully and hug the bag with your hands.

"Grinder is here," he points, "and the press."

You look between both and try to hide your confusion. Oh. You don't know how to do all that. You chew your lip and loosen the drawstring at the top of the bag. You stare inside tenuously.

He opens a drawer and takes out a metal measuring cup. He offers it to you.

"One scoop."

You take it and scoop out the beans. Then you just stand there with it. You look at him and cringe.

"In the grinder," he directs gently as he pulls forward the little square machine and pops the top.

You pour the beans inside, the rattle of them making a small rhythm that carries in your head. You bop your head, trying to follow it as your nerves get the better of you. You can't help but make up little nonsensical songs in your head when you feel so lost.

He shuts the lid and steps back.

"Press the button."

You obey and press the button. There's a short whir then the machine quiets again.

He stifles a laugh, "hold it down."

You push and keep your finger jammed. You watch the blade turn the beans to powder and he gestures for you to stop. He slides over the press and pulls a spoon out of the open drawer. You reach over to shut it without thinking. He hesitates but says nothing about it.

"So, six table spoons. Open it up."

You try to flip the top of the machine open like he did but it won't budge. You grab it firmly and try to force it open. He moves forward.

"You gotta hit the switch--"

Suddenly the compartment detaches from the rest of the machine and the lid opens, dusting you and the floor with coffee grinds. You stand in stunned silence as a growl rolls up Bucky's throat.

"Steve, just make the coffee, I'm dying here."

"I'm sorry," you push your lip out, "I made a mess."

You look around at the smatter of grinds all around you and littered across your dress. You shake it off and shiver. You glance between the men.

"I'm very sorry," you apologise again, "I didn't mean to. I didn't mean to. Don't be mad."

"It's fine, sweetheart," Steve reaches to touch your shoulder and you flinch, "get the broom out of the closet. Clean it up."

"Uh, uh, alright," you shake off the front of your dress before turning on your heel.

You go to the closet, the weight of Bucky's gaze following you. You open the door and find a broom, taking it out with the dustpan. You shut it and look past it to the doorway that gives a peak of another; a door with windows that look out on a leafy yard.

"Doll," Bucky warns from behind you.

"Sorry, was just looking," you spin and nearly trip over the bristles.

"Can't go outside until we can trust you," he adds.

"You don't trust me," you stand dumbly with the broom and pan. "Why not?"

He gives you a look. Your lips form an O. Yeah, the tea. Fair.

"Sorry," you repeat.

You set to sweeping up the grinds and Steve shows you where the bin is. Then he goes about making the coffee himself as you watch. He peeks over and smiles.

"Bacon and eggs are in the fridge."

You nod and go to the large fridge, a wooden front that makes it blend in with the rest of the decor. You open it and find the eggs easily but can't figure which paper packet is bacon. Not until you see the scribble sharpy scrawled on the other side.

You go back to the counter and peer around. Just as clueless as ever. Steve directs you to the pots and pans and you take out what you need. He tells you to put the kettle on and you stop to do that as he stands back and watches you. It suddenly feels like a test.

You struggle to catch the gas burner, making yourself dizzy as the flame doesn't light.

"She's gonna burn this place down," Bucky snarls.

"Relax," Steve steps forward and gets the burner going for you. "There."

"She can't do anything on her own."

Steve retreats and points at Bucky. You don't look back as he approaches the other man and you hear the scratch of a whisper between them. You put the kettle on the lit burner, then lay the skillet on another. You focus and repeat what Steve did, managing to light the second.

"I did it!"

Bucky sighs as Steve praises you, "good girl."

You could smile. You're good. You can do things.

You turn on the oven, that's easier. You lay out bacon on a sheet and wait for it to preheat as you add oil to the pan. You search the cupboard and find a bowl to mix the eggs. You examine the spice rack, taking your pick of the many containers.

You shake your head and seal your lips as you have to smell them to see which is which. Steve hums before he speaks.

"What's wrong?"

You shrug, "nothing..."

He arches his brow and lifts his chin slightly. You clutch the oregano and gulp.

"Captain," you clear your throat, "in my apartment, I label stuff so I know. I can't find anything without the labels."

"Labels?" He repeats thoughtfully.

"Use your head. Remember," Bucky scoffs and receives a nudge from Steve.

"Labels, how about we make that your first project. Bucky can go in to town and get you a nice label maker of your own," Steve looks at his companion, "won't you?"

Bucky scowls, "if I don't get coffee soon, I'm not doing shit."

You widen your eyes and cover your mouth. Steve tuts, "Buck, watch your mouth."

"She's an adult, she can handle it."

"You're an adult too so stop being a brat," Steve warns, "sweetheart, keep going. I'll get his coffee."

He nears and pulls down a mug from yet another cupboard. He fills it and holds it up, "the sergeant takes his black, I don't mind a bit of cream. Okay?"

"Black," you nod at Bucky, "cream," you look back at Steve, "I'll try to remember."

"I know," he winks before he walks away.

He hands over the mug to Bucky and comes back to pour his own but you're there first. You put down the oregano and reach up to grab a red mug. You shut the cupboard and fill it, scurrying around Steve to grab the cream from the fridge. You add a little and offer him the cup. A grin slowly spread across his face.

"You're so sweet, thank you," he takes it, "you're a good learner, you know that?"

"I am?" You smile.

"Very smart girl," he raises the cup, blowing across it before taking a sip, "perfect. You got it just right."

You clap your hands together proudly, "see," you face Bucky, "I can do it, sergeant."

He squints at you over his own steaming mug and says nothing as he drinks. His blue eyes pierce you coldly. Your face falls and you tuck your chin down, turning back to take the oregano and you go back to the bowl of eggs.

You can do this. You're not going to burn the eggs. Or the bacon.

"Do you have a timer?" You ask. That's the only way you ever get anything done but you don't have your phone anymore, which means all your alarms are useless.

"Yep," Steve grabs a small apple shaped timer from the corner of the counter and places it by the stove, "just twist."

"Thank you, Captain," you take it and look at the numbers.

He leans in and lowers his voice, "he'll come around. You'll show him, I know you will, sweetheart."

You bite down your lip and look at him. His eyes fall to your mouth as it curves, just a little, your cheeks burning.

"I'm trying," you eke out.

"I know," he reaches to rub your arm, dragging his hand up around your shoulder and playing with the sleeve of your dress, "did I tell you how nice you look?"

"Thank you," you preen.

"Doesn't she look nice, Bucky?" He steps back and crosses to the island where Bucky nurses his cup.

"Not bad," Bucky says, not quite a compliment but not as bad as you expect.

You'll just have to do better. Put all those tools that Dr. Makira gave you to work.

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nepenthendline · 4 years ago

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A Characterisation/Writing Guide - Autism and ADHD

Hi everyone! This post is going to be a guide on how to accurately write characters with Autism and ADHD. I have been so many works where Autism and ADHD have been terribly written - using so many stereotypes and just nonsense that has nothing to do with neurodivergences, so I hope this helps educate writers and give them more confidence to write such characters.

For reference, I have Autism and ADHD, as well as many friends with either, therefore this information is coming directly from a neurodivergent.

This guide will be split into three parts: characterisation in both Autism and ADHD, Autism chracterisation and ADHD characterisation. This being because Autism and ADHD, while two different disorders, do have some overlaps.

TERMS:

Neurodivergent - describes those differing in mental or neurological function from what is considered typical or normal

Neurotypical - describes those who are considered normal and do not differ in mental or neurological function

NOTE - Not everyone is the same. Everyone is different and will act and feel in different ways, this is simply an overview of how Autism and ADHD typically can be characterised

MUTUAL CHARACTERISATION OF AUTISM AND ADHD:

As mentioned before, both Autism and ADHD do have overlapping traits that can make them look similar at times, although it is important to remember they are two very different disorders.

Autism and ADHD are NOT mental illnesses or learning disabilities. They are neurological disorders that people are born with, and cannot be treated or cured. Neurodivergents can learn techniques to help manage their difficulties, however. It is important to note that while these are not mental illnesses, it is very common for neurodivergents to have mental illnesses (particularly anxiety or depression) or struggle with learning as a result of their difficulties.

MASKING:

Masking is a technique that neurodivergents develop in order to act or speak in a way that is ‘socially acceptable’ or neurotypical by observing and replicating neurotypicals in different situations. This includes subjects such as not stimming/keeping still, not saying particular things, following social cues, speaking with specific tones at specific times and so on.

Not every neurodivergent will mask but most do. Everyone does this to a different extent; some mask 24/7 to the point where you would barely be able to recognise any ‘abnormal’ traits, whereas others only mask in more serious or professional situations and let loose around friends or family. It is up to you as the writer to decide how your character will mask, however there tend to be some trends. For example, those with high-function Autism (especially girls) are much better maskers than low-functioning Autism (especially boys).

Masking is exhausting; it takes a lot of effort to, essentially, act as a completely different person for the entire day. This does not mean that neurodivergents are two-faced in any aspect however. Neurodivergents simply tweak their existing personalities to ‘fit in’ with the people or situation.

Masking in writing:

It is quite difficult to write masking as the person is essentially just acting like ‘normal’. However, there are some things you can include that help demonstrate masking:

Adapted stims* that are much smaller and undetectable than a person’s usual stims, such as fiddling with their fingers or edge of their sleeve, looking around often or slight movements such as swaying or playing with jewellery they are wearing

Speaking more or less than usual and with much more changes in their pitch and tone

Slight cracks in a character’s masking, such as stimming when others aren’t looking, not holding eye-contact when speaking, face or tone falling flat at points

*Stims will be explained in the next section

STIMMING:

Stimming refers to self-stimulating, repetitive behaviours that are done to often calm a person down when in stress, or to show high levels of emotion such as happiness. Both neurodivergents and neurotypicals stim, however there are some difference.

The most common examples of stims are bouncing your leg when sitting in a chair, clicking your pen repeatedly or tapping on a table, which are things that most people have done at some point. The difference is that neurodivergents have a lot less control over their stims, and they tend to be much ‘bigger’, louder, distracting or harmful. It is also much more difficult for a neurodivergent to stop or ‘hold in’ their stims, causing more stress and agitation. Some people have small stims like fiddling with their hands, others have much bigger stims like waving their arms around, and some have harmful stims such as scratching or banging their head against a wall.

Stimming in writing:

If you are ever asked to write about how a character would help someone else/a reader with their stimming, please never ever write about the character stopping the other person/reader. This is extremely harmful for the stimming character and projects a view that stimming is bad or ‘naughty’, and many people have faced trauma over being forced to stopped stimming as it is seen as disrespectful or distracting. Stimming is often one of the only ways neurodivergents can clearly express their emotions. If you stop a stim, the person will simply stim in another way. Instead, try these ways:

Stim toys that the character can use, these are often small and discrete, and can allow the character to stim without harmful, loud or large movements

Distracting the character with something else, possibly an activity, something to hold, or audio/visual distractions

Reassure the character that these stims are ok and they are safe to do around other characters

Take notice of the situation the character is in, why are they stimming? Are they anxious? Are they excited? It is better to prevent the situation in the case of stress rather than try and stop the person from stimming, and allow the character to stim when feeling happy

In romantic situations, allowing the character to stim with their partner shows high levels of trust and acceptance, and it is also comforting for the stimming character to often use aspects of their partner to stim, such as playing with their partner’s fingers or hair

Exercise is a great way of helping those who stim often to release pent up energy

Stimmers can trigger other stimmers, so if you have two stimmers in a room together, chances are they will stim together, getting louder and bigger than usual

SENSORY SENSITIVTY:

Both those with Autism and/or ADHD tend to struggle with sensory sensitivity. This describes how people are easily affected by sensory input (sight, sound, taste, touch and smell). Most cases of sensory sensitivity end in distress, fear, panic and overload, however there are some people who feel comforted by high levels of sensory input. When people deal with too much sensory input, they often go into a ‘meltdown’. This is different for everyone, but often includes irritability, panic, shutting themselves off from others, extreme stimming and a feeling of being severely overwhelmed. Some people cannot speak at all during these episodes. while others may shout or make noises. They are often mistaken for tantrums, bad behaviour or just being grumpy. Young people tend to have much more active meltdowns, such as shouting, stimming, running off etc, however older people (especially girls) then to be more quiet, shut off and unable to continue speaking or doing tasks. That being said, everyone is different and anyone can have a different meltdown.

Sensory sensitivity in writing:

The best way to describe sensory sensitivity in writing is relating it to pain or panic. Often those with low tolerance to sensory input describe loud noises, for example, as physical pain in their head, or certain materials as making them feel faint or nauseous.

Sensory sensitivity relates to any sense, so some people may be terrified of certain noises, feel panicked by certain smells or feelings or feel sick/vomit from certain tastes - please understand the severity of this for some people

Neurodivergents often find techniques to help them with this, such as wearing noise cancelling headphones or playing music or audio to distract them

The best way to help someone during a meltdown is to help them out of the situation and leave them to decompress. This might include letting them sit in a dark room for a while, laying in silence or touching an item/smelling something that brings them comfort

Describing a meltdown for a character can often be similarly written like a panic attack, and often meltdowns can lead to panic attacks for some people, such as an increased heart rate, sweating, crying, hyperventilating/heavy breathing etc.

Struggling to write sensory overload? Try and think how you would feel if you had 30 different voices screaming at you at once, with bright lights and super itchy clothing. Really panicked, scared and overwhelmed right?

Those who are sensitive to sensory input often hear/feel/smell/see things much louder/easier/more extreme than others, so while something may be quiet to one person, it seems really loud to another

HABITS AND COMPLUSIONS

Neurodivergences come with a lot of habits and compulsions, somewhat similar to traits of OCD. These are things such as having to have particular routines, having to carry certain items with them at all times (mine are my BTS water bottle and earphones lol). Without fulfilling these habits, compulsions and comfort items, a person can become extremely stressed, panicked and overloaded.

Habits and compulsions in writing:

Writing these can go from very subtle to extreme, it could be that someone has to get ready in the morning in a particular order, eat their food in a certain way/order or follow a particular route to get somewhere

The odd thing is that neurodivergents are actually pretty bad at developing habits, a neurodivergent could do the same thing over and over every single day, but completely forget to do it one day and never do it again

When writing for characters, some characters may be able to mask their distress when their habits/compulsions are not fulfilled, however others can not do so at all, but either way this sends the character into feeling of panic and distress

A character may develop certain habits/compulsions for different reasons, it could be from experiences, completely random, comforting senses or familiarity and fear

For example when walking into my nearest town I have to walk a very specific route on a specific side of the road or I freak out, this is because it’s what I’m used to and I struggle to deal with change

Speaking of change, a character can be written as anxious or irritated when plans are changed

SPECIAL INTERESTS/HYPER-FIXATIONS:

Probably my favourite topic - neurodivergents often develop special interests and hyper-fixations. These relate to specific subjects or activities that a person will learn about or engage in with extreme focus and dedication. Some common examples are trains and butterflies, where a person will learn and memorise every type of train, or every type of butterfly to exist, and how different trains work or the life cycles of butterflies. This can be of any topic though, as a child my personal special interest was Ancient Egypt and I spent all of my free time learning about the history. As I’ve gotten older, this has changed and my hyper-fixations have been mostly BTS and Haikyuu (with some short ones in between).

Special interests/hyper-fixations in writing:

Info-dumping! Characters with special interests can often be written with moments of info-dumping, where they will talk about their special interest for a long period of time to someone else. They are often very excited, talk quickly and possibly even seem a little frantic when trying to explain their interest - this is something they have little control over and tend to talk for too long or at inappropriate times

Stereotypes are often written in special interests, particularly the example I gave about trains - not every neurodivergent likes trains, please be creative when thinking about what special interest your character may have, if they have one at all

A character may have one long-standing special interest that they’ve been learning about for many years, or they can flutter between multiple hyper-fixations in the span of a few days

Hyper-fiaxtions can affect a character in ways such as forgetting to eat or sleep, forgetting to do other commitments or becoming extremely upset, stressed or unmotivated when that interest is no longer doable (such as if a TV series ends)

Some characters may be embarrassed about their interests, whereas others will happily info-dump with no concerns

FRIENDSHIPS AND RELATIONSHIPS

Both Autism and ADHD can cause difficulties in making and keeping friendships or relationships. This is often due to struggles in communication, forgetting to speak to people, getting bored of social interaction, getting overwhelmed and feeling too ‘different’ from everyone else. Some people, however, can make friends every easily, particularly more extroverted and confident types. Autistics in particular tend to have small groups of friends that they feel truly comfortable with, and may struggle to understand why a person needs other friends/ a large group. This can lead to feelings of ejectment or jealously. A neurodivergent will often struggle to know how a person feels about them without being directly told, and will need frequent reassurance that this feeling is continuous.

AUTISM CHARACTERISATIONS

Talking too much or very little - about 40% of people with Autism are mute, meaning they cannot speak. Characters could also be selectively mute, meaning they can only speak in situations they are comfortable with, or certain people

Autism is a communication disorder, majorly affecting a person’s ability to communicate and understand socialisation. Here is how to characterise Autism:

NOTE - I have used functioning labels here as, personally, I prefer to use them and is more often used where I am from, however some people prefer not to, please keep this in mind

Speaking out of turn - this is either because they do not understand the social cue of waiting until someone else has finished to talk, or because they will forget what is on their mind if they don’t say it immediately

Taking jokes or words literally - this can cause character’s to become distressed when they do not understand a joke, or end up doing a task that was not meant to happen because they took a conversation literally. This also include having difficulty understanding figures of speech such as ‘it’s raining cats and dogs’

Having difficulty understanding the rules of social interactions - this covers a range of things, from struggling to know what to say when speaking to a cashier at a store, to not knowing what to say in certain situations. An example of this is if someone said ‘hi, my name is ....”, the social cue is to respond with ‘hello, it’s nice to meet you, my name is ...”, however those with Autism tend not to understand this and may reply with something else. In my experiences, I often panic and say ‘thank you’ instead, despite this not being the ‘correct’ reply

Expressing the wrong emotions - Autism makes it very difficult to understand emotions, either from others or expressing them yourself. While others immediately know a smile means someone is happy, this is not something that is easy to understand in Autism. An autistic person may laugh or smile during negative situations, or look upset or mad in happy situations as they are either unaware of how they are carrying their body language, or simply do not know what body language fits with what emotion

Difficulty understanding emotion of others - whether it be verbal or non-verbal, it can be very difficult for those with Autism to understand what others are feeling and can often jump to the wrong conclusions

Using the wrong tone of voice or having a ‘robotic’ tone - For the same reason as the last point, those with Autism tend to either sound robotic at times, or use the wrong tone in the wrong situations, such as sounding angry when they are not, however they are often unaware of this when it happens. This also means they tend to be more blunt and literal in their own speech

Not understanding hints - those with Autism often need to be spoken to very directly as they struggle to understand hints or ‘read between the lines’. This could be anywhere from not understanding hints of romantic feelings, to someone mentioning that the trash is getting too full (as a hint that it needs to be taken out)

Difficulty with focus and following lists - this is an overlap with ADHD however the reasoning is often different, autistic people are often perfectionists, so if you give them a list of things to remember, they will focus so hard on remembering the first thing correctly that they forget the rest. Difficulty to focus is often due to a lack of interest in the topic

Attention to detail and ‘all or nothing’ - Autistic people are great at paying attention to small details and often focus on that more than the big picture. They are also very ‘all or nothing’ with how they delegate their focus, if they are interested in something they will put their entire energy and focus into it until its perfect, if they aren’t interested? They probably wont do it at all, this often means that some Autistic people struggle academically because they don’t feel interested in the topics, and therefore have no motivation to do the work

Great at following rules and instructions - despite being bad at lists, Autistic people tend to be good at following rules, this is because they are often black and white, literal and easy to understand, they like structure!

Increased skills and abilities - those with autism are often more creative and intelligent in a wide variety of skills that neurotypicals, in fact to be diagnosed with high-functioning autism, you must have a higher-than-average IQ. Unfortunately the stereotype is that Autistics are dumb or stupid - this is not the case at all

Boys vs girls - everyone is different, however boys and girls tend to act very differently. Boys tend to be more extroverted and loud and particularly struggle with understanding emotions or talking in turn. Girls tend to be more introverted, quiet and can mask much better, but struggle more when knowing if it is acceptable to speak

No empathy? - this is what people often relate to Autism, however this is inaccurate. People with Autism can and do feel empathy, however it tends to be slightly different. For example, if a neurotypical told another neurotypical about a bad situation they went through, the other person would often reply with ‘I’m sorry that happened to you, I hope you feel better soon”. A neurodivergent, however, would often reply like this, “something similar happened to me once.....”. This often comes across rude to neurotypicals, however it is much easier for a neurodivergent to relate the person’s feeling to their own experiences, and share comfort by letting the person know they are not alone

Difficulty with eye contact - good body language often explains that eye contact is key, however this is extremely difficulty for neurodivergents

Forgetfulness - to be honest I don’t know why this is, autistics are just really forgetful. You need to repeatedly tell them to do something or they wont do it

Planning - autistics often need and enjoy planning their schedule. They find comfort in knowing exactly when, where and how things are happening and with who

Shyness and introverted? - many autistics will be shy, introverted and struggle with social anxiety, but this is not the case for everyone. A person can be autistic and be super confident, loud and extroverted - it is a stereotype that being autistic makes you shy and quiet

REMEMBER - AUTISM IS A SPECTRUM DISORDER MEANING PEOPLE CAN RANGE FROM MILD TO SEVERE TRAITS, NOT EVERYONE WILL HAVE EVERY SINGLE TRAIT

AUTISM STEREOTYPES:

Everyone likes trains

They are rude and blunt

They are stupid/unintelligent

They cannot understand rules

They cannot feel empathy

They are quiet and shy

They are disruptive

AD(H)D CHARACTERISATION

ADHD is a condition that affects the focus and attention of a person. Here’s how to characterise someone with ADHD:

Not everyone is hyperactive - firstly, the ‘hyperactive’ part of ADHD doesn’t often mean physically hyperactive, but a person can have ADD where they do not show hyperactive traits

Difficulty focusing - this is much more than just not being able to focus, there are many reasons as to why this is, including getting distracted easily (by external sources or their own thoughts). finding it difficult to understand social interactions, feeling overwhelmed

Hyperfocusing - on the flip side, ADHD can cause people to hyperfocus on certain things, where it takes all their time and energy and they forget to do other things such as eat or sleep

Difficulty with eye contact - good body language often explains that eye contact is key, however this is extremely difficulty for neurodivergents

Difficulties controlling emotions and mood swings - this is often comes out in anger and frustration. This can be for various reasons: they are frustrated that they cannot focus like others, a lack of motivation, get easily stressed and insecurity

Restlessness - this is often seen as being always ‘on the go’, they need to be busy at all times doing different activities. In writing this can be shown as excessive talking, fidgeting, getting bored easily or taking risks

Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria - this is an emotional response to rejection or criticism which often looks like insecurity and anxiety. This could be real rejection, or perceived rejection, for example someone saying they are too busy to hang out may trigger an emotional response of rejection, low mood and anxiety in someone with ADHD. This can also lead to anger or panic, and causes people to become ‘people pleasers’ or not try at all

Poor organisation - the opposite of Autism where those with ADHD struggle with planning, organising, misplacing items and keeping things tidy. It is difficult to understand priorities, separate relevant and irrelevant information and time management. Those with ADHD often begin tasks and do not finish them due to restlessness, distractions or feeling overwhelmed by the task

Difficulties starting tasks - ADHD can make it very difficult to begin tasks as they feel too overwhelming, difficult or take too much focus. Breaking down tasks into smaller sections can help this a lot

Forgetfullness - out of sight, out of mind is often the case with ADHD, and so things like post-it notes and reminders can help people remember things they need to do

Multiple thoughts at once - neurotypicals tend to only have one thought/idea in their head at a time, however those with ADHD often juggle multiple thoughts which can lead to distraction and frustration

‘All or nothing’ - Those with ADHD tend to be ‘all or nothing’ with how they delegate their focus, if they are interested in something they will put their entire energy and focus into it until its perfect, if they aren’t interested? They probably wont do it at all, this often means that those with ADHD may struggle academically because they don’t feel interested in the topics. Unlike Autism, they tend not to focus well with repetitive tasks as this lacks simulation

Medication - unlike Autism, ADHD can be helped with stimulant medication that allows them to focus a bit better. This is not a cure as ADHD cannot be cured, however it can be beneficial to some to help manage their struggles

Acting without thinking and being impulsive - to find some stimulation, those with ADHD may act without thinking of their consequences, or can engage in risky behaviour as other avenues may seem boring, please note this is not the case for everyone, and these ‘risks’ may be very mild like trying a new flavour of ice cream. They can act impulsively too and struggle to wait their turn

Communication difficulties - while ADHD is not a communication disorder, it can have affects on communication such as talking out of turn, starting conversations at the wrong times, being insensitive to particular topics or getting too distracted to focus on the conversation

Need reminders to take care of themselves - due to a mix of hyperfocusing and not focusing well, those with ADHD may often forget to do things such as eat, drink, sleep or shower

Quite easy to get their attention - when someone with ADHD is daydreaming, getting distracted or not focusing, it can be as simple as giving them a tap or a smile to bring their attention back to the matter at hand, even if these needs to be done multiple times

Rewarding behaviour - this technique works well as rewarding good behaviour releases dopamine, which is the hormone often lacked in those with ADHD, this allows people to connect activities and behaviours with positive feelings and are more likely to do it again in the future

ADHD STEROTYPES:

ADHD is ‘diet’ Autism

Those with ADHD cannot sit still

They are disruptive

Everyone with ADHD is hyperactive, loud and extroverted

#autism #asd #adhd #writing #neurodivergent #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu imagine #haikyū!!#haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu drabbles #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #Fanfiction

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datawyrms · 4 years ago

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Responsibility

For Phic Fight 2021, The Lord of Chaos’s prompt c:

Spectra fed off of misery; nocturne fed off of dreams. The elusive town cryptid that only shows up when people need saving gains a following and Danny finds that he gets a boost from the people who have faith in him, he starts to become aware of them, especially when they needed him.

The rest of the town seeing him as benevolent was a positive thing. The uncomfortable stabs that his ‘parents were right’ about ghosts lessened as fewer and fewer treated him as a monster just as troublesome as Technus. He didn’t need to tense when the news was on, to hear his attempts to help called a ‘savage attack’, or that stupid nickname. He’d slept a bit easier, knowing that people did understand he only meant to help lately. Sure, Mom and Dad might still insist he was an evil ghost, but it was so much easier to ignore that when he didn’t feel he was only one step away from proving them right to everyone else. Clumsy and reckless he could take. Just as long as he wasn’t some ‘evil soul sucking abomination.’

Having Jazz a bit more in the loop had actually started to pay off. She wasn’t as good at catching a ghost as Sam or Tucker, sure, but she wasn’t hindering him anymore either. Honestly, if all three of them worked together, his powers weren’t really needed unless something huge found its way to town. Which his friends had insisted he take advantage of at least once a week, to let them handle the usual patrols and alerts while he tried to catch up on work and sleep. Mostly sleep, to be honest. Focusing on work was almost impossible when his ghost sense went off, even if he knew they didn’t need help. He wanted to go, he had to go; but they were very good at yelling at him for not ‘trusting them’ to handle things. He really did need the break. That’s why he was feeling a little less haggard, a bit more alert. At least, that’s what made the most sense.

Then the ‘lurching’ started. He couldn’t think of a better name then that. It wasn’t like his ghost sense, that sort of just crawled out of him and didn’t give him much to go on beyond ‘there’s definitely a ghost around’. That could go off and leave him rolling his eyes at the box ghost, or fighting for his life against Plasmius with the exact same feeling. The lurching was...different. Like his ghost sense forgot where his windpipe was and decided to escape in a random direction. Inssenantly. It didn’t hurt, but it was annoying, worse than the pang that would pass when he ignored whatever got his ghost sense acting up. It just kept pulling in a direction, but refusing to get out from under his skin. Sometimes it would keep going for an entire class, which just made whatever the lurch’s chosen direction noticeably cold. He was pretty sure he was immune to frostbite nowadays, but that didn’t make explaining things easier if someone spotted his hand looking almost blue from lack of blood flow.

Maybe his core was on the fritz again. Who knew what sort of weird things could happen to a human who spent half his time dead?

Tucker suggested that he was just getting ghost puberty to go with the ‘joys’ of human puberty. Which sure, was funny and they could shove each other around and forget about it for a time. It didn’t feel like the right answer. None of his other powers acted up, honestly he was feeling better after fights then he usually did lately. Less drained, anyway. It wasn’t stopping either.

It just got worse. More intense. More frequent. Instead of vanishing the area the lurch decided to pull in seemed to grow the longer he tried to dismiss it. Noticeably. To the point even Dash asked if he should avoid punching him because ‘that shit looks contagious’. (He privately hoped it was. Dash totally deserved weird pulling that made you frost over.)

He had to ignore it, he couldn’t just drop everything every single time the lurch decided to show up. He’d look completely off his rocker, running in some random direction because ‘my shoulder feels cold to the north-west’. If it was close enough to be a real danger, his ghost sense would just go off!

So Saturday was going to be a ‘lurch hunt’. No more ignoring it, no school or mandatory activities that should keep him from following the strange cold that felt desperate to go after something. Yet even deciding that made his insides squirm. He had to follow it, he should be- but that was dumb. He missed enough class as it was.

So why was it so hard to focus on anything else when it started going? Like nothing else mattered? It wasn’t like he was drifting off or sleepy either.

Jazz said he was ‘fixated’ on something.

But how do you fixate on some weird feeling under your skin? He didn’t even know what it was! Just that Sam and Tucker kept needing to flick things at him to get him to pay attention to reality. One of his best rested weeks in ages, and he was worse off then he’d been focus wise in years. Stupid ghost powers. Saturday took far too long to come. Even when one of the lurches stopped pulling he couldn’t relax. Instead of relief he just felt. Hollow. He’d woken up in a panic, half expecting to be chained down in one of Vlad’s sick laboratories, but he wasn’t cut open. He wasn’t even injured. Safe, in bed- and feeling like the cold ran off with his ribcage.

Something was wrong with him. That had to be it. Once they found the cause, he’d solve it and it would stop. It had to.

Following it shouldn’t make him feel as relieved as it did. Taking his ghost form and flying after some...feeling that wanted to drag him somewhere was more like when Freakshow’s Staff dominated his mind than anything positive. A compulsion he couldn’t help giving in to.

At least his ghost sense went off once he’d followed it long enough, finding one of Vlad’s mutant ghost animals chasing someone through the streets.

Normal. A bit of one sided banter to get it’s attention, a few punches and ectoblasts and it was shoved away in the thermos. No more pulling, and one less ghost terrorizing town. That didn’t make sense. Unless it really was just his ghost sense increasing in range while becoming infinitely more irritating?

That’s what it felt like, at first. He’d follow, ghost sense, find the problem. Except there was something odd. Every ghost he found like this wasn’t just wandering about, or making a mess. They were all actively chasing, stalking or attempting to scare someone. Okay, so it homed in on more ‘violent’ ghosts then? That seemed possible.

Until one of the lurches kept pulling, but there was no ghost sense. The one that kept pulling him towards a man with his back against the wall, fumbling with a wallet. The man who wasn’t being threatened by Skulker, or a vulture, or any of this typical fare. Just another human with a gun, and the will to use it.

This so wasn’t his thing. He fought ghosts, they were half his fault to begin with. So why was his ghost sense leading him to this? Well. It hadn’t. Lurching confirmed for not ghost sense?

Jazz would totally chew him out for tackling someone with a gun. He just had to forget to go intangible at a bad time, and he’d be all ghost. Or worse, go intangible and someone else got a body full of lead. He couldn’t just...ignore it now that he’d seen it though. The chill that hummed below his skin wouldn’t let him.

So the guy was a bit startled about getting pulled through a wall and dropped off the other side. Probably lost some change. He’d expected a bit of fear, at least. Like come on, some ghost just grabs you while a gun’s in your face? That’s still scary.

Yet he didn’t seem bothered. Just thankful. Called him a ‘hero’. For being in the right place at the right time. By just happening to be there because...because he knew? Something in him knew. That was wrong, he shouldn’t just know when people were in danger like that. He vanished without a word, not wanting to stick around and hear more. It was coincidence. Hopefully the guy wasn’t too offended that he just bolted, but he couldn’t stay there. He didn’t like how the complement felt good in a way he couldn’t describe. That the cold in his chest thrummed with a pleasure that made the rest of him feel ill. He wasn’t a hero, he was just some kid. A kid who still wanted to have a life that wasn’t all this, eventually.

He can’t ignore at dinner that he picks at his meal, not from exhaustion but because he’s not hungry. He’s still energized, he’s still full- and no amount of gagging over the sink makes his stomach empty. ‘Ghosts helping humans only do so for their own ends’. He’d ignored and denied that, he hadn’t been getting anything out of being the local ghost punching bag- so why was he now? Did he steal something? Feed on that person he saved?

He hated that his face didn’t even have the sense to look pale at the idea. He looked healthy. Probably better than he usually did. Even the circles under his eyes weren’t as noticeable. Were Mom and Dad right? Was he just...more of a ghost now?

Sam and Tucker don’t buy his ‘couldn’t figure it out’ explanation. Mostly because he refuses to try it again with them along to help figure it out. Even as he grows cold and more lurching keeps gnawing at his attention. He’s human too, he doesn’t need...whatever this is.

Sam kindly tells him he’s being a gigantic idiot.

He’s too distracted by the chill to notice. Tucker explains that after he’s blinking confused at the corn chips bouncing off his forehead. They laugh it off. He’s pretty sure they’re just being nice. They know something’s wrong, but he can’t bring himself to tell them yet. They wait. For now.

He ignores the feeling. He tries to ignore the guilt, that he knows someone out there is in danger. That someone out there needs his help. That all he needs to do is walk out of class and he can go do some actual good. He can’t go chasing after everyone in town. Things happen! He’s just one person! The sooner the lurching in him figures that out, the better. It still ruins his focus, makes him grit his teeth and fidget in place. He wants to go, he doesn’t want to go, he doesn’t even know what he wants. For it to stop. That would work. The tugging stops halfway into his next class, the frost in his blood lifts. It leaves him empty. Starving.

Everything tastes bland. Breakfast, lunch, dinner. Even his favourites barely seem worth the effort of snagging off a table. He’ll eat, he can’t have Mom and Dad looking at him like Sam and Tucker are now, but it just feels heavy in his stomach. A brick he’s decided to try digesting for fun. He’s hungry, ravenously so, but doesn’t want anything.

He knows exactly what he wants and hates himself for it. Stupid ghost half. He doesn’t need that, he doesn’t want to be some...leech. Seeking out trouble just to benefit from it. It’s wrong, he hates it, and if he could grab his core and slam it on the table for a few hours he would. Just until it remembered that they helped when they could. When it was close by, when it was a ghost problem. Not every bit of danger in town!

Misplaced aggression goes to the nearby ghosts. Which it often had, really. It’s normal. He’s just making sure people don’t get hurt, ignoring the humming of MINE coiled in his ectoplasm. The other ghosts feel it. They hear it when he hunts them down and wants to keep swinging even when they put claws or hands up in surrender. He doesn’t trust himself to banter with them right now. He doesn’t want to hear the words his ghost side wants to say. He shoves them back into the Ghost Zone, and the smarter ones stay away. A stronger ghost is already feeding here. There’s nothing for them to take.

He’s running on autopilot. Days are meaningless. He can’t focus in class, his notes are nonexistent and his patience is beyond frayed. He can’t sleep, the cold is too much, the emptiness hurts and fewer ghosts show up. He can’t even blow off steam by kicking the Box Ghost through a wall. He won’t follow it, and he’s fairly sure it’s going to kill him. That or his parents will. Even they have to notice how he barely eats and won’t focus on anything short of a horn section in his face.

Sam and Tucker sit him down. Force the issue. They know he’s a mess. They don’t have answers. How could they? His choices are to starve this ghost instinct out, or to just give into it and completely ruin his human life. He’ll be fine. It’ll stop eventually if he keeps ignoring it. Then he’ll be able to focus again. It’s all he can cling to.

He’s stubbornly ignoring the prickling awareness of other thoughts. Ones not from his brain. Ones that get louder when the lurch grips him, that practically overwhelm his own as fear and panic grows. Maybe he’s just gone a little off the deep end. He doesn’t hear voices. He refuses.

Jazz has her concerns. That he can’t ignore it. She knows more about Mom and Dad’s research, more about classifications of ghosts. She tries to be gentle, nudging him to be aware that stronger ghosts were more...like a concept then an individual.

He doesn’t want to be some sort of ghost concept of problem solving. She’s worried he won’t have that choice. Some part of him already knows she’s right.

He seeks out Valerie. For help. She’s confused, baffled and suspicious. After all this time he spent convincing her he’s not evil, he’s begging her to call him that. To convince other people he is. To make them fear him and his help. He doesn’t want to be a hero like she is. He just wants to be himself, doesn’t want to hear the people begging for help when he’s trying to sleep.

She doesn’t understand, but understands one thing. He’ll feed on those who rely on them. She has to stop that, doesn’t she?

They fight, and often. He does poorly, lets her save people while his misfires cause damage and chaos. It makes him want to scream each time. Some of the thoughts and voices dim. Not enough. Too many are understanding, too many can see the regret and pain that wrack him with each failure. He’s always hungry. He wants to try again, but everything in him rebels against it. The ghost hunter avoids him. It’s ‘not a fair fight’. He’s ‘not himself’. His green eyes are more dead then they ever have been. He can’t maintain his legs.

As a human, all he wants to do is sleep.

Mom and Dad notice. He collapses and his eyes flare green when they try to help him. Just automatically sensing them as danger, against him, not someone that calls for him. They think he’s possessed, and he wishes they were right.

He half considers not telling them the truth. Let them think of a way to let his ghost half quiet down, to stop hungering for validation he doesn’t want.

Jazz tells them before they can do much of anything. Pinches his ear for being stupid- that getting experimented on won’t help him.

Their hugs make him feel bad. This should be a good moment, a time where he feels safe and accepted. But his mind is not his own, not with the others whispering in his skull. Their warmth and love feels like a drop in the empty barrel of his hunger.

They want him to be healthy. They want him to be happy. He can’t be happy if he needs to abandon his life to be healthy. He tries to explain it, the emptiness, the voices (Jazz cuffs him again for hiding this, which seems fair.) and they promise to try and figure out why, maybe find a way to limit it or separate himself from whatever connection his ghost half seems to have made with the town. Until then- they encourage him. To go ‘help’ people. To feed the clawing cold taking over his existence. He’s not sure if they really mean it. It doesn’t stop him from listening.

It’s hard to feel guilty when it feels so good. To have the fear quiet and be replaced with thanks. Someone’s out of danger and happy, and he feels less hollow for a time. Mom and Dad switch him to home school. They say it’s a better fit, to be able to stop and start based on when he’s not being dragged away by his own instinctive need to protect people.

It feels like giving up. Admitting he’s too much of a freak to live like everyone else. Dad tries to compare it to his special classes when he was young. Different to fit his learning style, not failing. The pulls and voices aren’t nearly as distracting when he’s full. Food actually tastes like more than sand again. Sam and Tucker don’t need to try as hard to smile now that he isn’t looking like death warmed over. He doesn’t like not getting to see them as often. He can’t deny he feels better this way, and can actually pay attention now. Even if most of the time he just wants to nap when the hunger stops. Go ‘back into hiding’ as the town thinks he does.

It’s getting better. Slowly. Not in a way he wanted it to. Better nonetheless.

#Danny Phantom #phic fight 2021 #Team Ghost #how to mangle a prompt in 3k words #it's a really neat idea tho!#angst train choo choo

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peakyxtommy · 4 years ago

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Unsteady - John Shelby x Fem! Reader

Summary: Reader having a bad time and John providing comfort.

WC: 2.1K

Warnings: Dark/Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Insecurities/Sad

A/N: Happy 2021! First story of the new year and Solo John Piece. Please let me know your thoughts. Enjoy! xx

The darkness covered you yet again, in the clouds that stole away the sun and only sent storms. Storms of bitterness, rage, confusion and exhaustion. It was like a thief came in the night, turning you into a ghost of your former self. A person almost unrecognizable, yet familiar all at the same time. Everything you worked toward, suddenly seemed to be crashing right around you, the world picking them off one by one. Not only did the darkness come, it brought antagonizing and paralyzing fear. The fear that slowly lets you sink until you just get stuck. Stuck to either drown, to rise above the surface again, to stay down, or to pick up the current and move forward in the stream. Into the unknown. That’s where all your fear lived, like a prisoner in chains awaiting death.

The compulsive thoughts wouldn’t go away. It was the same hyper-fixation, leaving your mind spinning like a hamster on a wheel. No matter how hard you tried to get the thoughts out of your mind, it would come back with such force. Force that left you weak and defenseless. Back into submission to the voice in your head. The voice that dictated all the rules, the good and bad, the right and wrong choices to be made, from the time your eyes opened, until they closed again at night. The dull ache that rested in your chest all day long, as you ponder all your thoughts in the stream of your subconscious.

You couldn’t understand why you were so unhappy with yourself even from an early age. Always trying to be perfect, make peace, be noticed, and be kind to all. That no matter what you did or achieved, it never seemed to be good enough or worthy to you. It was like checking off a long list and waiting for the next great thing to happen. The critics and criticism of others soaked in rather than the positive. Your body was a war zone and was only to be seen by you and your husband. You were never happy with your body. Always being bigger than everyone else and finding ways to make yourself smaller. Not realizing the shrinking effect of shrinking yourself to meet other’s views of yourself. Some days were harder than others, periods of the symptoms you experienced, making your daily living almost unmanageable some days. You wanted to get better and you were but it was harder said than done, like doing the tango of two steps forward to take three backwards.

It was another one of those seasons for you. You were holding it together pretty well by yourself, until John started to notice the change in your behavior. Sleepless nights and overworking yourself. Having days where all you could do was lay in bed and complete the most minimal tasks. You were more startled than usual, always on guard for something to go wrong. You worried more when John would work or come home later than his usual times or with blood staining his clothes more days in a row than you could count. Making sure he’d call when he’d remember to tell you he was going to be late or you calling to check in on him. How you’d smile and laugh less, you’d spend longer looking in the mirror, and was more quiet than your usual self. You were avoiding his touch, always coming up with an excuse or finding a way to satisfy him just enough with a kiss.

You always pushed him away when things were bothering you. That was something you had to work on still. The hardest part at the beginning of your relationship (the both of you), but as time would go on, it would become easier. Sometimes you would resort to old ways, but the man that adored you more than all the stars in the galaxy, could read you like a poem from start to finish falling more in love with you by the day but also could tell when you were becoming a shell again. It would happen like clockwork like your body adjusted to its rhythm.

It wasn’t until one day he came home, that his rising suspicions were true. It was way past the time for anyone in the house to be up. He was working late on a job and was ready to head to bed, glad to have the next few days off. When he makes his usual rounds of kissing all the kids on the heads, just making sure they’re okay before he goes to check on you. He sees the light shining under the door and hushed sounds as he opens the door. His eyes land straight on you as the bearer of the noise. He makes his way to the bed, seeing you with your back against the wall in the middle of the bed hunched over, legs into your chest with your arms around them silently crying to yourself. That’s when it hit him like a pile of bricks and he knew. He expected it to be true with this confirming it to him.

It’s only moments later his body is sinking into the mattress and pulling your whole body into him. He felt your fingers grip onto him tightly as if he would be gone in an instant. He holds you just as tight, palms of his hands rubbing your shoulders and back in circular motions.

“It’s okay love, I’m right here. Not going anywhere.” He whispers, kissing your head as he waits for you to calm down. When you finally begin to breathe normally and continue to dry your own tears, you keep your head against his chest, not daring to look your lover in the eyes.

“What’s going on love, I'm worried about you.” His voice rasps, trying to hold back his own tears at the sight of you so broken and fragile in his arms.

You could hear the sadness in his tone. You could hide in the dark no longer. You had to release the world of doom that was swirling like a tornado in your head. You had to be vulnerable and let him into your mind and heart again. To speak the crushing truth of your reality and the pile of lies in the corners of your head.

“John, I’m not happy. It’s like something’s missing and I can't figure out what it is. I feel stuck in everything I’m doing. I enjoyed working at the flower shop before it had to close down. It’s been nice spending more time with the kids but I miss working. I know I could work for the company but you know I want my own job from Shelby business.

I’m sad about the kids getting older and them needing me less. My body is still changing since our youngest and I feel like it’s not good enough for you. Every time I go by the office, I see that new clerk Tommy hired and she’s always flirting with you. Makes my blood boil, but then sometimes my mind makes me wonder if you leave me for her. She can make you happy, make the kids happy, and keep the house from falling apart.

Also has a job instead of being home all day while her husband works dangerous jobs. I’m worried about you not coming home. It’s scaring me again. I’ve been noticing the amount of blood I’m cleaning from your clothes this past week. You keep coming home later and later, it feels like I'm doing everything alone. I keep feeling like I can’t breathe, I need a lifeline.” You feel the tears slowly spark again.

“You’re breaking my heart, love. I’m so sorry.” He holds you close, shedding his own fresh tears. You both stay like that for a while holding the other and crying together until a force of comfort embraces you both.

“Look at me darlin.” His hand takes your chin in his tips forcing your face up gently to meet his. His eyes were red matching your own, but inside his irises you could see the love he harbored for only you in them.

“You need to stop pushing me away. You always wait until you're the worst to reach out. I’m always here for you no matter what. I’m always going to listen to you and help you. I’m sorry I haven’t been helping enough around here and taking care of my wife in the best manner I should have been.

It’s okay, you want to do your own thing away from business. I prefer it but maybe we can do some searching around town for a new job or if you want to open your own shop we can do that as well. I’ll do whatever you want and will make you happy. That’s all I want love. The kids and I will always need you, no matter what. You make our world go round, we couldn’t function without you. You’re the glue baby.

I don’t want Tommy’s new clerk. You're the only girl I have eyes for, the whole bloody office knows it. Nothings going on I promise. I love your body always. Been with you for over 10 years, no other body I want than yours. It does amazing things all day long. Should be thanking it love.

I’m always going to love you no matter what, doesn't matter what you look like on the outside, only the inside.

Work has been busier than usual because we’ve been dealing with some enemies but we’ve just put it to rest tonight, I promise. I’ll be more aware and honest next time. We can do this together as a team, I promise. We’ve got each other alright and I'll carry to the end of the world if I have to. I mean it, you're my pretty woman, my lovely wife.” His lips press against yours soft and chaste to the touch. You could feel a spark of light flick through you. Soothed by words of the man you trusted the dearest with your heart.

“Thank you. We can do this together. I love you so much John, best father and husband ever.”

“I’ll be willing to help you in any way possible, yeah. We can go back to more calls and I’ll try to get some time off for a bit to be with you and for you and spend more time with the kids. I love you so much more than you could ever know.” He kisses you again for a few seconds before breaking away with him standing back against the wooden floors.

You both head to the bathroom. Him going to start the shower as you began undressing and him doing the same as the temperature became just right. Once both of you are uncovered before another, he leads you into the shower first, following right behind you. The steam from the hot water hits your face bringing a soothing comfort to your tense body. As John begins to wash your body and his under the hot water you both enjoy the intimacy it brings of being this close to one another in a way so sweet and innocent in a long time that neither had noticed. You both manage to sneak a few small kisses between cleaning and rinsing. Once dry from the shower and clothed in the warmest pajamas, you both laid in bed finally on the same page.

That’s how you went to sleep. Feeling loved, seen, and heard by the most important person in your life. You couldn’t be more grateful to have John as your husband because he really did know how to draw the best out of you. As you laid with your heart resting on his head, head tucked under his chin, resting right in the crook of his neck, smelling his minty aftershave. Your hands with gold laid entangle tight together, bands touching, and his arm holding you from across your back, close to his chest. When your eyes are closed you wish for a better and brighter tomorrow. A future where this pain didn’t feel so heavy and dense in your bones. A future where you were recognizable again, back to yourself.

It took time because that is what it takes to heal. The journey would be long and hard but worth it. You had the most important person by your side. You were able to believe in yourself once again, finding a strength within which you never knew. You were grateful when the silence would come, like a peace. Safe haven to your mind, to your thoughts, and esteem.

#Peaky Blinders #peaky blinders fanfiction #John Shelby #john shelby x reader #john shelby imagine #john shelby angst #peaky blinders imagine #peakyxtommy #2021 #john shelby fanfic

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cynicalrainbows · 4 years ago

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So the very lovely @shut-up-heather-d requested some headcanons for TNBT featuring Kitty and Jane or Catalina and Anna and I didn’t get round to it yesterday because I’m useless but hopefully they’re still enjoyable, even if they are a day late!

Catalina and Anna

Catalina obviously gets to know Anne more quickly and easily because she’s Cathy’s best friend and she’d already heard a bit about her before Cathy started living with her BUT she also gets very invested and interested in Anna too, partly because she’s terrified that Cathy’s jealousy of her is going to lead to her doing or saying something REALLY bitchy one day and she’ll have to smooth it over and everyone at the school will judge Catalina for being a Bad Guardian but ALSO because she utterly empathises with the feeling of being the New Person who is sort of on the fringes. So she’s sympathetic to Anna anyway and then after the sleepover, she is just also very very grateful to Anna and decides she is going to do everything she can to encourage this friendship because Anna is clearly A Good Egg. (That’s a phrase Catalina definitely wouldn’t use but....I have a compulsion to use it here. So it’s staying.)

To that end, she makes sure to let Cathy know that Anna is very much welcome if Catalina ends up having Anne over, and she sometimes asks Cathy how Anna is doing with fitting in at a new school. And generally she does pretty well because she’s Cool and Nice and Fun.

Of course there’s always one bitch of a parent- one of the Dad’s is a Farage supporter (because there’s always one) and he goes off to his kid about ‘EU immigrants taking all the jobs’ and then this gets repeated at school and then some other kids join in because....well, it’s raining and they can’t play out so this is a fair second. Anne and Cathy do their best to defend Anna (who makes a valiant effort to defend herself too until it becomes Too Much because actually she sort of does want to go home still? And being TOLD to but not being able to is horrible) but they don’t have an amazing understanding of what’s being said so the kid with the awful Dad ends up sort of getting the better of them, until Anne ends it all by throwing a chair at them.

That does shut them up.

Cathy comes home from school boiling with rage at the injustice and at how Anne got into trouble and how even the teacher who told the mean kids off ended up talking to Anna too about ‘fitting in’ and ‘ignoring them’ and how now Anna is really miserable and saying how much she hates being here and how everyone back home is MUCH nicer.

Catalina decides she’s going to try and help- so she calls the school to let them know that she knows what’s going on (and her opinion of how it was dealt with) and then she has Cathy ask Anna over to play without Anne. Once she’s over, Catalina manufactures a reason for Caty to be out of the room for a bit and then she asks Anna a bit about what she’s been going through. Anna is a bit wary of telling her anything because....well, she’s just this random adult who she’s never talked much to before, but Catalina tells her about how she’s gone through the same thing, how she knows what it’s like.

Anna breaks down with the guilt- about how she’s being blamed for stuff she doesn’t understand and how much she misses home and then how she feels like she’s not allowed to admit it for fear of seeming ungrateful, and Catalina is VERY reassuring and validating and lets her know that she’s allowed to miss whatever she wants and how she absolutely doesn’t deserve to be harassed by mini xenophobes. Anna really enjoys having a grown up who isnt her parents actually understand and Catalina tells her that she’ll have a chat with Anna’s Mum and that if Anna ever wants to talk to her more about it, she can.

Anna’s Mum is so grateful for Catalina’s intervention because now Anna has an adult who can not only empathise but also give actual advice AND that Anna doesn’t have to worry about upsetting, and so Anna sort of gets into the habit of calling Cathy and Catalina whenever she’s having a hard time.

She comes over to play sometimes and she and Cathy and Catalina (and sometimes Anne too) make traditional German deserts and Anna finds the tv shows she misses from home online and it just helps her settle in better. As she acclimatises, she stops calling so much but she and Catalina still have a sort of understanding that Catalina is there if she needs her, in a capacity as more than just ‘Cathy’s godmother’ and it’s all very pure and wholesome.

Jane and Kitty

Jane does everything she can to try to give Kitty the validation and attention that she misses out on- she knows that while Anne’s extroverted nature means she doesn’t get overlooked often, Kitty just sort of blends into the background and people go between either treating her like a toddler and not expecting ANYTHING of her (because she’s four and it’s pretty much always easier to dothings for a four year old than to have them do it themselves) OR they randomly expect her to be able to do things she’s never tried or practised before because ‘that’s what normal kids are doing’. So Jane tries very very hard to give Kitty a space where she can try things and make mistakes and (most importantly) not be punished or blamed for it. She’ll spend forty minutes waiting for Kitty to choose her clothes and dress herself independently because she knows it’s something she needs to be able to do and the only way to learn is to practise. She doesn’t ignore her or anything- she stays right there and is wildly encouraging but she makes Kitty do it herself and makes a big thing out of how only really, really clever big girls can do up all the buttons on their cardigan by themselves and doesn’t Kitty want to show Pink Kitty how clever she is? She also praises her extravagantly for asking to do a thing by herself because she knows she really needs to nurture Kitty’s independence before it’s crushed out of her entirely.

For things like chores also she’ll have Kitty help her as much as possible, even when it DOES mean she has to then secretly go and re do it later. She makes a little apron for Kitty to wear for chores (not because it’s needed but because dressing up just makes everything more bearable) and a slightly bigger one for Anne (who fully gets into a the spirit and likes to pretend that she’s a poor Victorian servant girl being cruelly overworked by her mistress, like Sara Crewe, or an orphan like Annie- and of course Jane indulges her too and will threaten Anne with all sorts of dramatic, hilarious punishments while she sets her to tasks) and a very tiny one for Pink Kitty. Anne’s Mum simultaneously HATES that the girls are being encouraged to do chores like ‘the help’ but also despairs that their bedroom is a mess.

When Jane makes them breakfast or dinner or whatever, Kitty gets her portion and then Pink Kitty gets a tiny portion on a saucer. (When Kitty is brought to Catalina’s, Silver Kitty sometimes gets brought to the table too and is given a crumb-sized portion as well on a plate made from a 5p.)

Jane does all she can to normalise Kitty’s situation for her- she doesn’t want Kitty to feel eithe pressured to feign love and adoration for a mother she never met OR to feel like it’s a secret. She keeps telling Anne’s Mum not to freak out when Kitty gets confused and calls Anne’s Mum ‘Mummy’- she reminds her again and again that it’s just that she’s four and she’s copying Anne and to just gently correct her and move on, and that no, Kitty getting bored when they visit Jocasta’s grave isn’t a horrible sign of her being an uncaring child, it’s just that she’s too little to really get it. She is so looking forward to when Kitty is old enough to actually hear proper stories of Jocasta but for now she doesn’t want to push things.

She is awful for changing the ending of books and turning off films if she thinks they’re getting too scary. Anne didn’t even KNOW Harry Potter was anything other than ‘fun story about wizard boarding school’ until Cathy asked her whether she was scared of Voldemort. Kitty meanwhile has NO idea that there is an extra Mog book where Mog dies- as much as Jane knows that it’s an excellent and child friendly explanation of death, she can’t even think about it without crying herself. Eventually, she gets Catalina to read it to Kitty (Catalina tears up herself but she hides it better; Kitty is fooled, Cathy less so.)

#six #six the musical #six the musical headcanons #the next best thing #TNBT

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subtlereferencetomyinterests · 4 years ago

Text

I Taste Honey but I Haven’t Seen the Hive - Chapter Four

Ao3, Masterpost, C.1 C.2 C.3

Relationships: eventual queer-platonic intruality, mentioned platonic relationships

tumblr edits out my italics when i copy/paste, and its midnight on a school night, so. italics arent in the tumblr version of this chapter cuz im not manually replacing them rn :P

Warnings: Taxidermy, swearing, fights (verbally, not physically), mentions of death, sexual innuedo (thanks remus), sympathetic everyone but there is Conflict.

Word Count: 2,645

Patton had learned, in his many years of emotion-filled life, that every person interacted with others uniquely. An obvious thing to learn, maybe, but in his younger years he felt like it really wasn’t made clear enough.

When it finally hit Patton that other people didn’t feel things in just the same way he did, it came with slow disbelief. Shocked was he to learn that not only were people so vastly different inside, but that he might’ve been one of the most different of all- even with the other sides. After all, each of them had seemed to understand all their differences like it was second nature, while Patton tried to come to terms with the information.

And come to terms with it he had, throughout Thomas’ late teens to early twenties. It was just Patton’s nature to try and learn about his friends, and that didn’t change when the task got harder. If anything, he’d become furiously determined to know how to care for all his family better than anyone, even if it more than once sent him spiralling in thought.

Logan, for example, was at his best when he was around other people; calmly talking, debating, doing work in the same space, anything that amounted to time spent together. So, even when Patton didn’t know what he was going on about, he did his best to at least be someone Logan could talk at. Which must’ve have worked somehow, because Patton couldn’t even count the times anymore he’d realized it had been hours after starting a conversation with his best friend, the both of them grinning and talking and enjoying each other’s company. Color Logan understood!

Roman, an even easier case to crack, didn’t really care what kind of attention he got- as long as it was positive. Which Patton was of course happy to provide! Though Roman became easily suspicious of any signs of friendship, Patton liked to think he’d weaseled his way into being a close companion, if the amount of times Roman dragged him off on adventures was any indication. Roman, too, was a check!

Virgil had been harder to figure out; not enough support and he got nervous, too much and he’d get overwhelmed. Fine balances did not come easily to Patton, so there had been more than a little trial and error. He’d eventually landed on treating him not unlike a wild cat: to just exist in the same space and let Virgil do whatever he wanted in his own time (a method that had found resounding success!). Virgil, much as he wanted to seem mysterious, was also marked off the list of understanding.

Janus was deceptively easy to work out. He just needed someone to challenge him, all in good sport, to be friendly and frustrating at the same time. Call it environmental enrichment, but with people! Patton was more than happy to be one of those people, pushing and pulling in equal parts banter and genuine conversation. Janus, surprisingly, was clear as well.

Patton wondered if it was weird to think about it so much. He thought about all of them, and he wondered if they took time to decode him, too. Or maybe they just knew already- they saw the heart on his sleeve (or chest, as it were) and had him all figured out right then.

He liked to believe they did spend time thinking about it, though. It was nice to think he wasn’t the only one that cared enough to take the time, and he knew that they cared about him already! Even if they didn’t say it as much as he did, even if they showed it all differently, and even if sometimes it felt like they didn’t understand him…

They still cared. The hoodie around his shoulders said so. The card framed on his wall said so. The stray dog dander on his clothes said so. So long as he had that, who needed the luxury of understanding?

Patton shook his head, no, he wasn’t worrying about all them right now. Right now, there was someone else to worry about.

Remus. Remus, who always chatted on and on, but sometimes went dead quiet for no reason at all; whose expression never seemed to match his words, who laughed when he was happy and when he was angry, who yelled when he was bored and when he was overwhelmed. Remus, who threw himself around a corner for a cheap jumpscare every five minutes, limbs broken and wrapped in ragged, punk-style clothes. Who would also drape himself all the way across Patton gently and calmly, wearing something baggy and impossibly soft (but still neon as ever), talking and talking and acting like it was all perfectly normal. Remus, who Patton wasn’t even sure was officially his friend yet.

Patton wanted him to be. But there was still… something in the way. Some kind of frustrating, tense, unknowable barrier that left him on edge around the trait. If Remus could just tell him something, anything, or give him any hints at all about what Patton was supposed to make of him, then it wouldn’t be so downright impossible. But he was inscrutable, an open book written in a language Patton didn’t know.

Whenever Remus walked into the room, it was almost like nothing had even changed since his acceptance.

Speaking of-

Patton barely had time to dodge out of the way as Remus leapt onto the couch, landing in a sprawl and taking up as much space as possible. He looked out of breath, so he’d probably booked it down the hallway and stairs, too. Just as probable was him having no reason for doing so at all.

“Hello,” Patton said.

Remus, from his laid down position, arched his neck up until he was peering upside-down at Morality. He had a reserved look in his eyes, but it was obvious he was fighting not to grin.

“Guess what I did.”

Patton paused. There were… a lot of ways that could go. Most of them weird.

“Um-”

Remus made a disturbingly accurate buzzer noise, exclaiming, “Took too long!”. He flipped over onto his stomach and propped himself up on his palms, his legs draped over the arm of the couch, and rocked back and forth excitedly. “I made you something!”

The worry slipped out of Patton’s mind, replaced by curiosity. He hummed, smiling, and asked:

“Like a gift?”

Remus beamed.

“Something like that!”

As Patton laughed by response, he ran his thumb compulsively over his bead bracelet (that he hadn’t taken off even once since getting, of course).

“That’s so sweet!” he chirped, “You didn’t have to do that.”

The Duke puffed out a breath, ruffling the white section of his hair. He rolled his eyes and shifted around, pushing up until he sat upright.

“Yeah, I know. Haven’t we done this dance before, Morey?”

“Okay, okay, I know,” Patton shrugged, his expression turning sheepish, “What is it, then?”

Remus’ grin widened in that almost impossibly way of his, and something about the glint of his teeth was distinctly threatening. It probably wasn’t intentional, but Patton could never really tell, when his claws tapped impatiently against his leg and something mischievous wormed into his expression.

“Well, you have to close your eyes, first!” Remus clapped his hands together, and there that glint seemed to get brighter.

“Oh, uh-”

“It’s not gonna be my dick, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Patton yelped, covering his face with his hands in embarrassment.

“Well I wasn’t worried before you said that!”

Remus shrieked with laughter. Patton didn’t move his hands from his cheeks, a flush of discomfort starting at his ears and pricking his skin.

“You’re hilarious, but no- not this time, at least,” -Remus winked- “But just close your eyes, okay?”

Patton took a couple deep breaths, glancing up to give Remus his best approximation of a stern glare. He then let his hands drop to his lap, palms up, and squeezed his eyes shut.

There was a soft whoosh, and something small was dropped into Patton’s waiting hands. He ran the pad of his thumb over its surface, tracing something like fur. Soft, short fur, but when he pressed it was far too stiff to be a plush animal.

“Remus,” Patton felt along the object with both hands, jolting when he felt something scaly at the end, “What-”

“You can look now!”

Patton did as told, staring down at his lap.

There laid a rat.

A dead one, to be precise. A dead, taxidermized rat, posed up on its hind legs like some goofy little cartoon character. It’s eyes were impersonal glass orbs, but its skin was perfectly, horribly real.

Patton looked up, his eyes wide with disgust, to see unfiltered excitement shining on Remus’ face.

“I made it myself!” His pride echoed in the words, that grin stretching his lips looking all the more unnatural.

It was then that Patton’s body caught up with his brain, and he realized what exactly he was holding. He dropped it- all but threw it, actually- kicked it and scrambled back and anything to just get away.

The gift fell to the floor with a dull thump, toppling under the coffee table and out of sight. Patton pressed his hand against his mouth, the other one tightly fisted in his lap. He felt sick- sick enough that his brain was leagues away from rationality. Because he’d really touched- held- that corpse, that thing that used to be a cute little critter, what was now a homemade trinket of horror.

He turned his attention back to Remus, and a million thoughts and feelings rushed him. Betrayal, horror, fear- and weirdest of all was surprise.

Remus’ smile twitched, and he tipped his head from side to side.

“You dropped it,” he pointed out, “I thought you liked rats?”

The noise Patton made was something between a gasp and a cry.

“I like alive ones!” He exclaimed, pushing himself back until there was a good cushion’s distance between himself and Remus.

Remus’ smile dipped lower.

“Well, this way you don’t have to take care of it! It’s all of the cute with none of the trouble!”

“You think this is cute?!”

He couldn’t believe this was happening, after everything- he hadn’t gotten through to Remus even a little? It was all still a game for him to terrorize Patton? To shove dead things into his lap and laugh about it?

But Remus wasn’t laughing, strangely. In fact, he was very still.

“You don’t like it?”

In hindsight, Patton would look back on what he said with remorse so strong it gave him headaches. He had scores of memories like that, of course, but this one’s sting would never fade, not even long after they’d moved on from it. But in that moment of fear, of revile, he could not think about anything else but the feeling of being tricked by his almost-friend laying heavy in his stomach.

“Like it? Is this- are you joking? Remus, you made me touch a dead animal! I thought we were starting to be friends, but- oh my God, what is wrong with you?!”

Patton was sure he stopped breathing right after he said that, his voice choking out. In the silence that followed, you could’ve heard a pin drop.

Remus stood up, and everything about the way he moved showed a woundedness that didn’t suit him. He looked at Patton with an awful intensity, his ruby-red eyes practically glowing. There was nothing vulnerable about him when he was hurt, nothing at all like how Patton would respond to something like an argument. There was only anger and tension.

He didn’t smile, but his voice stayed pitchy. Gleeful.

“Everything,” Remus hissed, “I thought you’d catch on before now, but.”

Remus spun on his heel, and the floor beneath him bubbled with oil and acid and plague as he sank into the ground and out of the living room. The carpet shriveled, sick-green, in his wake.

That was when the understanding hit him. A lot like a train.

“Oh, no,” whispered Patton, “Oh, no.”

Patton struggled to his feet, as if on autopilot. Was he going to go after Remus? No, no, that definitely wouldn’t go over well. He was probably halfway into the Imagination by then, anyway, ready to take his anger out on his creations and not do any talking at all.

Patton tore his eyes away from the spot where Remus had sunk out, stumbling over to the coffee table instead. He crouched, reached his hand under it, and let his fingers touch the fur of his discarded present. He grabbed it, looked down at it. The wave of nausea when he saw the little rat was now less disgust, and much more regret.

He cradled the preserved creature in his hands with all the gentleness he could. There was a slip of thick, yellowish paper attached to it, that in all the upset had gone completely unnoticed. It was folded in half, tied with twine to the rat’s neck.

Patton looked into the rat’s shiny, empty eyes for far too long, watching his reflection be distorted by the spheres. He took a shuddering breath, then, and thumbed the edge of the paper, felt its grain, and flipped it open.

“This is Jenner. You can have him, because even if you’re a priss, if you can handle me you can handle having cool shit like this. Plus, you’re weirdly nice to me, so I guess I don’t mind being nicely weird to you.

-R (the funnier one <3)”

Patton read the note once. Twice. Three, four, maybe six times the words ran over each other in his head.

The paper slipped from his fingers. He held his rat in both hands and stared down its coffee-brown snout. Patton couldn’t help bringing the figurine to his chest and hugging it tightly, like it was the thing he’d hurt so badly, serving as surrogate. Its sharp fingers and tail poked through his shirt like needles, but he ignored it, holding the irrational hope that the inanimate object could forgive him somehow.

Jenner was creepy, that was probably intentional; his proportions and pose were so uncanny it couldn’t have been an accident. And it was so, so very Remus of a thing that Patton couldn’t stand to hate it. His shift in view was so sudden, and in some sad way he realized that the conflict had been the final piece he’d needed. What let that understanding crash into Patton’s mind, painting the picture of somebody layered.

The picture of Remus, who he was, had finally clicked into place- and at the exact worst time for it to do so.

Patton had fucked up. Massively.

He didn’t react how he thought he would when he realized it. He didn’t grow weary and exhausted, desperate to apologize and then collapse into unthinking sleep for days. Gone was the emptiness of making promises that he hoped he could hold true on, just wanting to have gotten it right the first time. No, Patton felt something burning under his skin, something itching him to take action because he’d learned from a mistake. He knew exactly what he’d done, and he was ready to do better right damn now.

Patton breathed in deep and exhaled sharp, because first…

He sunk out to his room, Jenner tucked into the crook of his elbow. He rose up at his bedside and shoved a handful of knickknacks off the nightstand. With enough space cleared, Patton set his rat down on the table and stood it up on his alarm clock, facing the bed. And then, as just a final touch, he smoothed back the fur of its head and gave it a peck on the forehead.

Now, he had some planning to do.

Chapter Five

Taglist: @shrimp-crockpot @glitter-skeleton-uwu @donnieluvsthings @intruxiety @thefivecalls @did-he-just-hiss-at-me @gayformlessblob

#sanders sides #ts #intruality #my writing #fanfiction #fanfic #platonic intruality #qpr intruality #patton #remus #ts fanfic #sanders sides fanfiction

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wyrdify · 4 years ago

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May is Mental Health Awareness Month. It’s been plastered all over every social media website I’ve been on, and I’ve had friends on other sites talking about it. I’ve also seen it on here, and I decided I’m going to continue my trend of being open about my own mental health. In doing so, I have a few goals: to help lessen the stigma surrounding mental illnesses, to let others know it’s okay to talk about what they live with, and to just get my brain to move onto another topic.

So, let’s get down to it.

My brain works great when I present stuff in list or outline format, so that’s what I’m going to do to start with.

These are the mental illnesses I live with every single day:

Dermatillomania

Generalized Anxiety Disorder

Major Depression Disorder

OCD

Trichotillomania

A couple of these may seem unfamiliar to folks, and there are definitely preconceived notions about all of them, so I’ll share a little bit about what they look like for me in another section.

My family/personal history that contributes to my mental health:

Alcoholism (namely family members, but I bordered on becoming an alcoholic before I was 21)

Emotional abuse / gaslighting

Involvement in a cult

Loss of family members

Neglect (namely medical)

Other shit I’m not quite comfortable talking about in a public setting

What these mental illnesses look like for me:

Dermatillomania: It means I like picking at my skin, particularly recently acquired cuts or wounds. For me, my brain likes to make myself bleed, and it perceives that feeling, that pain, as good.

Generalized Anxiety Disorder: I worry about things and blow them out of proportion. Worst case scenarios are easy for me to imagine, and I overthink just about everything. Big surprises, the unknown, and anything outside of my control can make me panic.

Major Depressive Disorder: I’m tired a lot, and I often have trouble focusing or concentrating for long periods of time. Small things like putting something away takes extra effort, and I’ll often lose interest in things I normally enjoy. Since I was at least thirteen years old, I’ve also experienced thoughts of self-harm and suicide.

OCD: This links back to my anxiety, and it’s connected to the derma/trich stuff. I don’t do well when I don’t know something, or there’s any sort of uncertainty. I need things to be done in a certain way, and often in a certain order, or my brain will figuratively set itself on fire. I also need things organized in a specific way, or I get the same result. That’s the obsessive part. The compulsive part comes from following a somewhat strict routine along with counting in specific patterns, arranging my stuff in specific ways, and stuff like that.

Trichotillomania: Similar to the dermatillomania, but with hair. Often without thinking, I’ll pull my hair out. Sometimes, I do it purposefully because my brain thinks it helps with anxiety. This has also led to me having general issues when it comes to my hair in general.

What that family/personal history looked like for me:

Alcoholism: A lot of people in my family, including both parents, are alcoholics. They consume a lot of alcohol. I was pressured to start drinking alcohol when I was around 13-14 years old. When I was in my late teens, I would drink just to make myself feel better. Due to my intense fear of throwing up, though, I never let myself progress past tipsy. I don’t drink any alcohol now due to my medications and the knowledge that I could easily fall into alcoholism.

Emotional abuse: This is wide-ranging and extensive, honestly, and gaslighting was a huge part of it. What I’m going to do instead is link some things that explain what I lived with for most of my life. With this article from PsychCentral, I can check off every single thing on that list. This link from womenshealth.gov also covers what I dealt with.

Involvement in a cult: Insert nervous laughter. Starting around the end of middle school to the start of high school, my parents started getting involved in a cult that centers itself on therapy and self-help with some spiritual elements. Therapy through them was the only way to get help, or it wasn’t valid. My family is still involved in this cult, and I managed to get myself out of it when I moved back in 2013.

Loss of family members: In 2005, I suddenly lost my godfather, my dad’s brother. I saw him as more of a father than my biological dad, especially considering he curbed or otherwise acted as a buffer for my dad’s abusive behavior. In 2011, I lost my paternal grandmother, someone I was incredibly close to and trusted more than my parents. She also helped curb my parents’ abusive behavior, and her house was a safe place for me to go.

Neglect: I’ve said this before when talking about my epilepsy, but I was not allowed to go to doctors. Any medical issues, which included mental illnesses, I had were my fault, too expensive, inconvenient, or all in my head. It is also my belief that my mother pressured my pediatrician to tell me that my seizures were not neurological when I was sixteen years old. To this day, my parents are still very anti-doctor and borderline anti-vax.

Whoo, that was a lot of stuff, and I’m not even done---because of course not. Now, as the last part (I think), I’m going to list some things I do and personality quirks as a result of all this shit.

Confrontation/angry voices scares the ever-loving shit out of me. I shut down. I dissociate. I freeze, or I otherwise try to escape. Sometimes, this will come across as me trying to find ways to change the subject, not saying anything at all, or just agreeing with things because it’s easier.

I cry when people tell me they love me, and I often have to stop myself from saying things like “Thank you”, “Why?”, or asking for further explanation.

I doubt my memory and emotions a lot. To combat this, I keep logs, paper trails, and notes of just about everything. If I remember something that someone else doesn’t, or I have a different emotional response than someone else, I tend to assume the other person is right.

I feel guilty for everything. Somehow, everything becomes my fault, my responsibility, and I have to fix everything. This leads to apologies being my go-to responses for a lot.

I have trouble advocating for myself or saying that I need something. Needing things = bad in my brain.

I info-dump. My brain tells me people should have all of the information possible, so I do it. This includes telling people when I’m going to bed for the night or when I’m going somewhere.

I only feel safe crying when there’s no one else around.

I overthink every single thing I say and type.

I put everything in alphabetical order if possible.

I use writing to cope with feelings and other issues I’m dealing with.

I will listen to sad or otherwise emotional songs over and over again to help me get feelings out.

I will often perceive my issues as “not as bad as what other people deal with” and not talk about them. I’ll downplay what I deal with and shove it under a rug while trying to help others because, otherwise, I’ll feel selfish, self-centered, and attention-seeking.

If I can’t have my bowl of cereal for breakfast in the morning, it has the power to ruin my entire day, and I feel rather silly about it.

Lots of all or nothing and black and white thinking. Perfectionism also plays into this. If I can’t do something right the first time, or if things aren’t done perfectly, my brain will not let it go.

Physical contact without my explicit and verbal consent makes me cringe and feel incredibly uncomfortable. It can get to the point that even the thought of it happening triggers nausea.

These are explanations for things I do and why I act in certain ways. They are not excuses, and they are things I’m working on to the best of my ability. I’m currently on a wait list to get a new psychologist so I can start going to therapy again since I know I need it. When I had it in the past, it was incredibly helpful and empowering to me. Since about February, my depression started to get worse, especially as I felt like things were falling apart around me. It rises and it falls. Nowadays, it’s just a little worse in the sense that I find shutting down easier, and I struggle to do anything that isn’t a video game.

Mental health is just as important as physical health, and it needs to be acknowledged as such. If sharing what I deal with helps even one person, then I consider it worth it.

That is all. I hope everyone is doing okay. If you’re not, though, that’s okay. It’s okay to not have good days or otherwise not feel physically or mentally okay. One day, that lesson will stick with me on a more permanent basis.

Love,

Kai

#thewriter; post #mental health tw #depression tw #anxiety tw #abuse tw #grief tw #death tw #alcohol tw #derma tw #trich tw #neglect tw #mental illness tw #negative tw #long post tw #[ I got wordy up in here ]

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violetsmoak · 5 years ago

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10 Jaytim headcanons?

Here you go, Anon--in no particular order, 10 JayTim Headcanons:

Jason avoided staying overnight at Tim’s place for a long time after they first got together because he is a cuddler and will automatically curl up next to whoever he’s sleeping with. He was worried that Tim might get the wrong idea or assign some kind of meaning to that (before he was ready for there to be a meaning lol), and so avoided it. However, he eventually got over this (after only a bit of good-natured teasing from Tim). On that note, it actually took Tim longer than Jason to adjust to sleeping with someone. He grew up always having his own bed and his own space and just generally not being touchy-feely in his sleep. He also sprawls across the bed and twists himself up in a cocoon of blankets when he falls into a really deep sleep. He’s a total blanket thief, but it’s okay because Jason has run hot since his dip in the Lazarus Pit and tends to kick his blankets off anyhow.

Tim gets Jason to get rid of spiders; he maintains it’s because Jason is freakishly tall and can reach them in the ceiling corners easier than Tim can. Jason will always call Tim a little wuss about it, but Tim’s usually so capable and doesn’t need protection that being able to “save him” from spiders makes Jason kind of happy. Besides, it’s a kind of protecting that doesn’t require him to kill anyone or anything, since he always carries the spiders outside to let them go.

At home, they speak a mixture of English and Spanish to one another. Jason grew up speaking it and it makes him feel the good kind of nostalgic. He likes to jokingly mock Tim for sounding like he learned the language out of a book, and Tim just complains that he can barely understand Jason when he purposefully talks in nothing but slang, but they keep it up anyhow

Jason has a thing for Tim’s hipbones. He’s especially pleased to discover that the patch of skin directly over Tim’s right hipbone is insanely sensitive. Conversely, Tim likes to focus his attention between Jason’s shoulder blades and just above the dimples in his back.

Jason and Tim met twice before Jason died; once, when Robin saved Tim from a bunch of thugs one night and brought him back to (what he thought) was Tim’s house. He didn’t get a great look at Tim’s face because it was winter and the kid was bundled up in a hat and scarf. The second time was at a Wayne charity function that Tim’s family attended, and Jason tended to zone out of those things whenever possible. Both incidents happened at the tail-end of his tenure as Robin when he was chafing under Bruce’s rules and preoccupied with other things. Tim remembered both of those events very clearly and (partially because it was so hard to recognize that Jason with the one who tried to kill him) didn’t mention them to Jason until much later in their relationship.

Jason’s Pet Peeves: Tim leaves his empty Keurig pods all over the kitchen; Tim hangs the toilet paper over the roll; Tim is a natural slob and is used to people picking up after him; Jason has to shave every day or so while Tim doesn’t have to bother for like a week at a time, which is really friggen inconvenient // Tim’s Pet Peeves: Jason drinks all the milk and doesn’t tell anyone so it can be replaced; Jason hangs the toilet paper under the roll; Jason is a bit of a controlling neat freak in his space; Jason keeps putting the cups he uses every day on the top shelves in the kitchen--not maliciously, he just honestly doesn’t think about it

The first-person Jason told about his relationship with Tim was Roy…who figured out that Jason was into Tim before Jason knew he was into Tim. The first-person Tim told about his relationship with Jason was Damian…not by choice but because Damian found out and confronted him about it.

Jason secretly hopes Tim will one day decide to partner with him officially and “be his Robin”.

Tim might be the one who is most often attached to his phone and other devices, but Jason is the compulsive sneaky-photo taker. He has at least twice as many covert photos of Tim in various candid moments than Tim has of him. He sends the embarrassing ones to Dick and the rest of the family (of course), but there are a whole bunch he keeps to himself.

Jason and Tim do their absolute best not to be caught flirting or being intimate in any way when on patrol or otherwise when doing the vigilante thing. According to the Family, it’s important to Red Hood’s reputation that he does not appear too close to any of the Bats, since it could affect his various contacts/info sources/etc. In reality, if anyone knew they were involved, they might try to use either one as bait or leverage over the other one. It doesn’t matter that they’re both capable of taking care of themselves, but a complication they don’t have time to deal with during a Gotham style crisis. That doesn’t mean they haven’t survived really bad nights and then dragged one another into a dark corner somewhere to “check up” on each other before going home together...

I have a TON more, but I don’t want to share them here as they’re going to show up in future fics :)

#jaytim #jason todd #tim drake #headcanon

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monchikyun · 4 years ago

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24. sticks and stones

“Look at it, It’s just a dumb police bot, it’s not gonna tell anyone. Not after I’m done with it anyway.”

His brother can be a cruel thing sometimes, but Connor thinks that this time it’s only because he doesn’t know that they’re dealing with a deviant.

The android tries to keep it a secret for fear that he gets deactivated, Connor thinks. He has been trained to observe human behaviour and make assumptions based on what someone’s body language says, and deviants are as close to real people as something can get. He’d like to believe that what they’re feeling is real, even if it makes their situation that more tragic. But there’s something special about this android… person, something that makes him want to protect him from Niles’s inhumane treatment. Maybe it’s the scar on his nose, making him look a little more authentic, a bit more like a person with a real past.

But how can it be deemed inhumane if his target is not a human? That’s the reasoning his brother has fed him with ever since the creation of the first artificial existence advanced enough to be easily mistaken for something living. The one thing preventing him from fully ending these mad escapades.

“Do you have a name?” The android still acts like he isn’t here at all, like this doesn’t concern him.

“It’s Gavin.” Connor isn’t afraid to admit that he knows his name, he isn’t the one who his brother likes to punish. “That’s what they call him anyway.”

Although there are some scars on his body that Niles could be blamed for. Maybe not directly, he’d never hurt Connor like that, but he would never have to wear them if he was strong enough to say no to his sick ventures. There is a beast living inside of his brother, and it shows its ugly head more often than he’d prefer. Maybe it’s a bit fortunate that he doesn’t have to rely on human beings in order to satisfy his compulsions. Not that it makes any of this okay.

They have lead Gavin into one of the empty rooms in the department’s basement, in order to test what a certain type of corrosive substance will do with the material of which androids are made, stripping the android of his shirt to make Niles’s work easier. It’s a wonder that his brother is even able to keep his job as a lab technician at all, considering all his transgressions. It suits him perfectly though, he’s always been interested in analysing things and deconstructing them before putting them back together ever since they were small. Trying out his weird experiments on insects and electrical devices just because he couldn’t deny the itch inside of him. He figures that Niles just can’t fight the power that dictates his unsavoury behaviour, or that he doesn’t want to. It’s most likely the latter. Connor has often been there making sure his action don’t go too far, policing his misdeeds while confirming that his brother is aware of the harm he’s doing.

Like now. He can see the fear in Gavin’s eyes, despite his effort to appear as machine-like as he possibly can in this situation. But if Connor speaks up, he will reveal his beliefs regarding artificial existence, and he isn’t ready to have that conversation with Niles, not now and definitely not here.

So he lets it happen. Connor watches as the substance burns through the skin on Gavin’s bare arm, singeing the white shell, but not enough to create a hole in his chassis, just a large spot resembling a burn mark. The android doesn’t even flinch when the rest of it gets poured onto his torso, painting his chest the bleak colour of ash.

“There you go, you fucking piece of rotten plastic.”

It’s starting to seep inside of him, and Connor doesn’t dare to imagine the consequence of this particularly merciless test. And since Niles has a way to make androids disappear without a trace, or conjure up a perfectly reasonable excuse for their damage if it came to that, Connor is the only one who has the potential to stop this, before the anger takes over his brother entirely.

“Why don’t you kill me already you sick phck.”

Or so he thought.

“Ooh look, it can talk!” Niles grips his jaw, making Gavin look straight at him. “And it has quite the way with words too.” He lets go of him in disgust, menacingly stepping away from him and Connor is too stunned to do anything.

“You want death you fucking deviant? Well guess what, you won’t get it.” There is a vicious smile forming on Nile’s face, one that Connor is way too familiar with. He must talk him out of it somehow, or he’ll have to carry the guilt of letting this happen for the rest of his life.

“Things that are not alive can’t die, you-“

“Enough!” It’s a little louder than he expected, but it fulfils its purpose so he doesn’t care. “It’s been enough, Niles.” His voice gets little softer, like he’s trying to calm a feral animal. He can feel the sweat on his forehead, reminding him just how unnecessarily terrified he is. His brother might be unpredictable, but he’s still part of him, and Niles usually listens to his older sibling, out of love or obligation Connor can’t be really sure, but it’s enough that he’s able to exude some kind of authority over him, no matter the reason behind it.

Niles seems like he’s struggling with himself, judging by the absent look and the heavy breathing, so there’s still a chance to turn him around, at least for this moment.

“Who do you think you’re-“ Gavin slumps against the wall, his voice laden with heavy static. He can’t help but feel sorry for the android.

“I am a friend.” It would be a shame to let him die like that. He’ll do anything in his might to save him, Connor decides. It’s his responsibility, or so he feels like.

“Can you fix him,” he asks Niles with the most serious tone he can summon.

“No, I don’t-”

“Do you know someone who can.”

“Maybe.”

Connor can sense something heavy in the air, like the conscience that Niles has been running away from has finally caught up with him.

He should have done this a long time ago.

“Just call them and leave. I’ll cover for you.”

“What about…” He nudges his head Gavin’s direction, refusing to properly look at him.

“He won’t tell, I’ll make sure of that.”

Connor waits until the call gets through and then goes to Gavin, checking for a sign that he’s still alive. His LED is still fiery red, which is a good omen, in this case at least.

“You’re going to be fine, I promise.”

The android lifts up his glistening eyes that convey all his doubt toward that statement.

“Liar.” It’s barely discernible among the static, but the word still manages to cut deep.

“I promise I’ll try my best to help you, whether you like it or not. How about that?”

Connor gets a hint of a smile for this one, a seed that makes his determination grow tenfold.

He will keep this promise at all costs.

@convinseptember gavin just wants to live but doesn’t know how to express that wish xD

#convinseptember #convin #reverse AU yeaaah #I usually like Nines but in this he's a bastard xD #connor is a detective and niles is a lab person idk anything about jobs #also this begs for a sequel

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justjessame · 3 years ago

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Avery Emerson Clay: Hook, Line, and ... Have Y'all Ever Been Bait?!

My new schedule began the next morning, tempered only by waking up in Jake’s arms, and followed by a lengthy shower that was definitely Jake’s way of negotiating for me to behave in the way my dad and brother expected me to. Trust me, if Jake was willing to wake me up this way every damn day, I’d be more than willing to go along with Daddy and Clay’s stupid script with less bitching than my tiny body would put out naturally.

If you’d ever seen Jake Jensen fully naked and covered in bubbles, which you won’t because I’d beat you bloody, you’d understand my compulsion to go with the flow.

While being put into a more malleable state, I wasn’t completely devoid of my own personality. I pulled a few choices for attire for my first day as bait. Since I’d be jogging, then running errands to the office, and - God help us all, shopping, I would need a few wardrobe changes.

“Do you really think that is a good idea?” Jake was barely containing his laughter, and I didn’t really want him to. I was pulling on my first costume, the athletic look, and I knew exactly what he was talking about.

I turned to face him and made sure I was wearing the most exaggerated perky look I could force my face into. “Now, Jake, isn’t the point to make Maxi-poo grab my tiny ass?” The shirt was tight and bedazzled with the word “SNACK” across my tits, it was a joke clearly, something my mom had grabbed on one of her and Dad’s many trips. Something NO ONE ever expected me to actually wear in public. “I have another one in here that says ‘JUICY’, if you think that’s better?” I bit my tongue and he shook his head laughing before coming close enough to kiss me.

“You’re incredible, Avery,” I was on tiptoes to keep contact, but Jake was helpful and cupped my ass through the very tight shorts I’d paired the stupid shirt with and lifted me so I could wrap myself around him. “I’m sure your dad and Clay are going to pop a blood vessel between them, but I think you’re fucking amazing.”

With that in mind, I grabbed my earbuds, my cell phone, and headed off for my extra dose of jogging that I fucking hated. Dad stared at my outfit, but refrained from offering any feedback while Clay lamented the narrow choices that it gave for hiding the tracking device and bug to keep me company.

“So I get to keep Jake inside me all day?” I caught Jake’s eye and grinned at how red and purple he could get in public. “Maybe next time lead with that when selling the op to me.”

“Ave,” Clay was tucking the earwig into my earbud, making them one, “maybe try to keep Jake alive by NOT making him a target for Dad’s fucking rage?” His voice was quiet enough that I was fairly certain Dad couldn’t hear him. “You like him, right?”

I sighed, “yeah, I do.” Which sucked, because pissing Dad off was pretty fucking fun, but getting Jake maimed would suck far worse. “Alright, so I jog down the hill and around the park and then back up the bike path,” I thought the best way to fix shit was to pretend I didn’t say anything bad at all. “If I have to do it more days than usual, I don’t see the point in diverting from the same course.”

“Right,” Dad offered, grabbing my water bottle from the fridge and handing it to me. “While you jog, keep the music to a lower level than eardrum bursting, that way not only Jake can hear you, alright?”

I nodded and he walked me out. Dad stayed with me in the driveway while I stretched, talking me through the finer points of some of the self defense shit that I hadn’t touched in awhile. “But I can’t incapacitate him, right?” I groaned, touching my toes. “The point is to get Max to take me.”

“Take you, but not hurt you, Avery.” Dad stepped closer to me. “Make sure he knows you're a Clay, princess.” With a kiss to my forehead and a pat on my back I was off on my run.

Nothing happened during my jog, or my shopping trip. Aside from mind numbing boredom. I hated to shop. Unless it was for my pets or for a purpose. Mindless shopping because I could? Boring. Glancing at the files I had on the passenger seat of my car, I felt another sigh build. Last errand on my list for day one of my ‘routine’, Guardian Incorporated.

“You’re doing great, sweetheart,” Dad’s voice cut in, as I moved through traffic. Throughout the day, Dad, Clay, and Jake had given me mini pep talks. They weren’t as helpful as they hoped to be, but I couldn’t and wouldn’t tell them that. “One more stop and then you can come home.”

“Yep,” I agreed, pulling into the garage after being nodded through the security gate. “One more chore then fetch and yoga.”

Soft chuckles broke through my earbud and I smiled. “Never thought I’d hear you sound happy about the yoga, princess.” The chuckles belonged to all three men in my life, but the comment was fully Daddy.

“Yeah, well don’t hold me to it for long.” I muttered. Grabbing the files and my employee badge, I beeped my car locked and headed for the bank of elevators in the employee garage.

The first couple of days were simple and non-eventful. I jogged. I shopped. I did errands to GI. We added stops and errands that made sense.

Rose was back at work. She didn’t say a word about the missing practice dummy or about my new schedule, which says a lot about how long she’d been with our family.

Jake had moved into my room, there seemed to be NO point in keeping up some stupid pretense in having his things in a separate room, and forcing Rose to keep it in the same state as a room that actually had a person staying in it.

It was a regular day, at least my NEW regular. Wake up wrapped up in the warmth that was Jake Jensen, get a hot shower to make my day a little easier to face, then dress for a jog that I’d rather not fucking deal with - with an earbud in my head with music and three men giving me their version of motivational advice.

Once I was miserable from the exertion, I’d come home for a less pleasant shower, redress in my next costume change, this time for mindless shopping and whatever bullshit “look at me” errands the men in my family devised for Max to find me doing. A bundle of “files” for good measure next to me in the car, and away I’d go, my earwig in place.

Jake, Daddy, and Clay would take turns to tell me how good I was doing or tell me how fabulous I was in all ways shapes and forms. I’d maneuver through traffic and I’d work through the stores and the shiny happy people that I was supposed to enjoy dealing with on the daily. Spoiler: I wasn’t enjoying dealing with these people on the daily.

Off to GI, where I’d be waved through the gate, onto the employee garage, into the employee elevators and up through the floors. Dropping a file here, there and everywhere until I was back in my car and home. Except, today, I made a different choice.

“What if I don’t park in the garage?” I had to ask out loud, the earwig wasn’t a mindreader, thank fucking God. No one answered, so I went on with my idea. “If I go in through the main entrance, maybe Max will see me. I mean it’s not like he has the same access as I do.” Fucking lightbulb moment.

“Try it,” Clay, the voice of reason, or at this point fucking try anything. “Give it a shot, Ave.”

“I plan on it, bro.” I was pulling up to the curb, hoping that I had the necessary shit for the parking meter. “Let’s hope I don’t get a fucking ticket, OK?”

The light chuckles told me they were tense, but hopeful. Could family members and your boyfriend really be hopeful for your possible kidnapping? Yes, I figured. Yes, they could. I grabbed the files and some change from the cupholder and clipped my badge onto the top folder. Here goes nothing.

I was waiting at the first bank of elevators, holding the files and doing the mental math for how long the meter would give me before I’d have a ticket to pay, when I felt it. The tingle that tells you someone is paying attention to you. Close attention.

The mantra started in my head. “Don’t look, don’t look, don’t look.” The worst thing I could do was look, right? I mean if Max was actually here, looking would be the tale tell sign that I KNEW.

The elevator dinged open and I stepped onto it, alone. And as the doors were about to slide shut, a voice called out asking for me to hold it. I just managed, and the person who stepped inside was so benign that I doubted highly that it was the Max that my brother was looking for. This man? This linen suited, perfectly coifed, somehow pansy-assed looking man was a black ops burning psycho? REALLY?

“Do you mind pressing 3 for me?” He asked and I shook my head and tapped the button. “Thank you, Miss?”

“You’re welcome.” I stepped to the right, putting a bit more space between us and focusing on the files in my hand.

“That’s not very friendly,” I didn’t answer, but he didn’t really need me to. “I’d think that the daughter of Guardian Incorporated’s founder would want to put on a more welcoming demeanor for a prospective client.”

I looked up to see him staring down at me with a hint of a smirk on his lips. “I’d expect a prospective client to know that the daughter of the founder is in disgrace right now, so pandering to prospective clients isn’t high on her to-do list.”

“Touche, Miss Clay.” He gave a small tilt of his head, point to me. “I guess I missed that tidbit. Whatever could such a striking young woman do to fall into ‘disgrace’ was it?”

I moved slightly closer to him and tilted my head closer too. “I tasered an employee's balls when he muttered ‘nepotism’ at me a time too many.” A shrug of my shoulder and I moved back to my original position. “Now I work from home, unless I’m forced to bring paperwork in that can’t be faxed or digitally sent.”

He was grinning at me with real amusement now. “Pity, I’m sure you add more than just beauty to the workplace, Miss Clay.”

My floor dinged and I exited the elevator. “It was nice to meet you, Mister -”

“Oh, I think we’ll meet again real soon, Miss Clay.” He was fixing his cuffs and I noted that one hand was wearing a leather glove. “Very soon.”

“I can’t be completely sure,” I muttered once the elevator doors were shut and it started to move to the next floor. “But I’m pretty confident that Max and I just shared an elevator.”

#Franklin Clay #jake jensen x ofc #The Losers (2010)#alternate universe #Mild smut #humor #fluff #Family Fluff #FLUFF AND SMUT

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sincerelyreidburke · 5 years ago

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I know you only talked about it like, once in a post but could you please tell me more about drunk Quinn?

Yes, absolutely, anon. Drunk Quinn is an experience. Here’s the post in question where I mentioned it, and let’s expand on it.

(Ask me anything about the crickets!)

- Quinn drinks in very specific (and relatively rare) settings. Unlike his frat-bro boyfriend, he doesn’t really like getting lit up at parties on the regular. Rest assured Nando, when he does this, does it safely and in good company, but the fact remains that he’s often down to party.

- Quinn is a bit different. His idea of drinking at a kegster is having rosé out of a Solo cup with Ford. There are two places where Quinn will actually drink to the point of becoming tipsy: drama club cast parties (the closing-night ones, where they get champagne), and when he goes out with the crickets.

- First, let’s do the former, because the latter is way funnier. When Quinn is drinking at a cast party, it’s because he just finished a performance, and he had a really good time. He’s relieved that everything went well, in a place he loves, and happy. Closing nights can be magical like that. It’s this liminal space between performance craziness and the post-show “what am I supposed to do with my life now?” feeling.

- The first time Quinn gets actually tipsy is probably freshman year at the DEH cast party. They play random showtunes, and he sings along while eating the cake that has a frosting tree on it. His cheeks always get rosy when he drinks. Nando thinks it’s adorable.

- And so those are the cast parties. The far more entertaining version of Drunk Quinn comes when he and the 3 crickets, uh......... go clubbing.

- I mean specifically they go to gay bars. It starts around their sophomore year, and the reason they go is to support Rhodey’s secret undercover drag queen life to be in a fun queer space where they can also have a good time. (And yes, Touille is ace, but he’s going for the experience of hanging out with his friends and not to do Specifically Gay things. Also, he’s the designated driver.)

- Stick with me because this is funny. Quinn lets himself actually.......... become a little laid-back when he goes out with them? Those three boys are his best friends (even though he’s dating one of them). Like, he does have theatre friends, some really close ones, but when it comes down to it, the crickets are his closest friends.

- So that translates to Quinn being able to actually drink quite a bit. One time he and Rhodey go shot for shot. It’s terrifying.

- We all know that Quinn is kind of a bossy little bitch, but he tends to talk a lot more shit when he’s drunk than any other time. Drunk Quinn will spill all the unnecessary drama club tea.

- He makes Nando dance with him, even though Nando’s dancing skills are questionable at best. (He just wants the excuse to dance like a low-key thot for once in his life. Clubbing Quinn is a whole new person. Nando goes into gay panic.)

- There’s also the extremely vivid thought of Quinn making people do karaoke with him, like:

Quinn: C’mon, Remy, we can do Celine Dion! You’re Canadian, so you like her, right?

Touille: Oh, Q, I don’t really sing— (Gets physically yanked from his seat by Quinn to go up on the little stage)

- The videos of what transpires afterwards are copious.

- And on the thought of videos, Rhodey will often whip out his phone, start a Snapchat video, and say, yo, Q! Explain the plot of [x musical] to me! There are copious videos of Quinn essentially doing Drunk History in the backseat of Rhodey’s car, except it’s explaining musicals.

- So... Name That Show, based on Drunk Quinn’s explanations:

“Look... Dorothy was a little brat, okay? The Wicked Witch did nothing wrong. All she wanted was the shoes to remember her sister by... *Possibly shedding actual tears* Nessa deserved better!—”

“Umm... he broke his arm? And then he’s so socially awkward that he accidentally becomes a compulsive liar. :).”

“Well, it’s basic United States history, Ben; don’t you pay attention in class?????”

“PFF, okay, so, this bitch totally murders her secret lover and then she spends the entire rest of the show explaining why she’s obviously innocent—”

“Twelve-year-olds unionizing...... featuring vigorous tap dancing.”

“Hold on, hold on, I can do this, okay, uhh........ so they’re in France, and everybody’s life is awful....... so the main character is an ex-con, and everybody hates him because he stole bread— shut up, Sebastián, I’m thinking— and he’s traveling around trying to find a place to live, and, uh, wait, I lost my train of thought— okay, they all hate capitalism, and they try to revolt against the government, but— why are you looking at me like that?”

“I don’t fucking know, Ben; it’s just singing cats!”

- Quinn is extremely handsy when he’s drunk. To the point where Rhodey and Touille literally make him and Nando sit separate from each other, like Nando in the front and Quinn in the back, so Quinn doesn’t try any funny business when they’re on their way home from the bar.

- Nando usually carries him home. He never drinks to the point of being unable to walk on his own, but for someone who’s always graceful when sober, he stumbles more than he’d like to when he’s been drinking. It’s easier for Nando to just lift him up.

- Commence burying his face in his neck and mumbling things that might be vaguely spicy for a public place but it’s okay because Nando is the only one who hears them.

- But he usually just ends up snuggling a lot when they get in bed, even though he might think he’s up for more than that. Nando makes sure he drinks water, and Quinn clings onto him until he falls asleep.

Drunk Quinn is an experience. Thank you for enabling this information dump.

#oc taddies #crickets #mini quinny #quindo

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starlingsrps · 4 years ago

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poppy allen character development.

BASIC INFORMATION

FULL NAME: poppy lieke allen

NICKNAME(S): nope.

PREFERRED NAME(S): poppy

BIRTH DATE: october 25

AGE: twenty seven

GENDER: cis female

PRONOUNS: feminine

ROMANTIC/SEXUAL ORIENTATION: heterosexual

NATIONALITY: american

ETHNICITY: american-dutch

CURRENT LOCATION: los angeles, ca

LIVING CONDITIONS: neat and tidy, well decorated. she's definitely in laurel canyon, purposefully kind of a bitch to drive to.

BACKGROUND

BIRTH PLACE: santa barbara, ca

HOMETOWN: montecito, ca

PLACES LIVED: montecito, new york, london - wherever the hell she's filming tbh. los angeles is home.

SOCIAL CLASS: upper upper. when your eighteenth birthday is a people magazine cover, you don't pretend.

EDUCATION LEVEL: high school

FATHER: bryce hawthorne, 57, movie star

MOTHER: saskia werhoff, 52, model turned lifestyle guru

SIBLING(S): marieke allen, 25; matthias allen, 20

BIRTH ORDER: poppy, marieke, matthias

CHILDREN: absolutely no.

PET(S): nope; allergic to most things with fur.

OTHER IMPORTANT RELATIVES: her mother's family in the netherlands, her father's in nebraska.

PREVIOUS RELATIONSHIPS: legion and documented online.

ARRESTS?: nope.

PRISON TIME?: nope.

OCCUPATION & INCOME

PRIMARY SOURCE OF INCOME: actress

SECONDARY SOURCE OF INCOME: spokesperson

TERTIARY SOURCE(S) OF INCOME: trust fund

CONTENT WITH THEIR JOB (OR LACK THERE OF)?: like why wouldn't she be

PAST JOB(S): does she look like she's ever done intensive work?

SPENDING HABITS: poppy's version of reasonable is absolutely not the same as a normal persons. she thinks she's reasonable but that's just because she doesn't own a diamond encrusted birkin. she buys things that are high quality and doesn't really have experience with things that aren't.

MOST VALUABLE POSSESSION: real estate portfolio. she owns her house and a condo in new york. both are points of pride for her.

SKILLS & ABILITIES

PHYSICAL STRENGTH: B-

OFFENSE: B

DEFENSE: B

SPEED: B

INTELLIGENCE: B

ACCURACY: B+

AGILITY: B

STAMINA: B

TEAMWORK: C+

TALENTS: poppy has an incredible work ethic and sense of loyalty. she knows she's lucky to be where she is in life but she's going to show up the same as anyone else on set and give her best every time. she knows her self worth and she does not compromise on it one single bit.

SHORTCOMINGS: that can come off as.....abrasive.

LANGUAGE(S) SPOKEN: english and dutch

DRIVE?: yes

JUMP-STAR A CAR?: she was definitely taught by her father but it did not stick.

CHANGE A FLAT TIRE?: see above.

RIDE A BICYCLE?: yes

SWIM?: yes

PLAY AN INSTRUMENT?: no

PLAY CHESS?: no

BRAID HAIR?: yes

TIE A TIE?: yes

PICK A LOCK?: no.

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE & CHARACTERISTICS

FACE CLAIM: abigail cowen

EYE COLOR: blue

HAIR COLOR: red; boosted from strawberry blonde to red-red.

HAIR TYPE/STYLE: long and swishy. it's a signature at this point. that pantene hair deal did not just materialize on it's own.

GLASSES/CONTACTS?: both - a bitch is Nearsighted.

DOMINANT HAND: right

HEIGHT: 5'7

BUILD: willowy and toned, great ass.

EXERCISE HABITS: daily - she looks at it as part of her job description and between her father's biceps and her mother's devotion to yoga, she wasn't really raised with much of a choice but to use the gym.

SKIN TONE: fair, little freckled. a lot freckled if the sun has gotten to her.

TATTOOS: none

PEIRCINGS: ears

MARKS/SCARS: none

NOTABLE FEATURES: the Hair, upturned nose

USUAL EXPRESSION: attentive

CLOTHING STYLE: carefully curated. god i miss polyvore this would be so much easier. hold for pinterest board.

JEWELRY: whatever suits/is loaned for the occasion. she has a lot of small pieces that she owns for daily wear and a few really nice bits that she got from her parents as gifts.

ALLERGIES: dander, almonds.

DIET: nothing super weird/out of the ordinary, definitely erring on the trendy and consciously healthy end of things.

PHYSICAL AILMENTS: nah.

PSYCHOLOGY

ENNEAGRAM TYPE: type eight

MORAL ALIGNMENT: chaotic neutral

TEMPERAMENT: choleric

ELEMENT: water

SOCIABILITY: A - poppy is incredibly charming and social.

EMOTIONAL STABILITY: ehhhh i'll give her a B-. like she's not bad but when her temper gets triggered, hell will reign.

OBSESSION(S): nah

COMPULSION(S): nah

PHOBIA(S): failure

ADDICTION(S): nah

DRUG USE: she does smoke, she does know, she doesn't care.

ALCOHOL USE: social drinker.

PRONE TO VIOLENCE?: no (yet i think a certain someone might get something thrown at him)

MANNERISMS

SPEECH STYLE: even and cultivated. she has a pretty feminine voice and has done a little voiceover work.

ACCENT: nope.

QUIRKS: she squints a lot, even if she does have her glasses on or contacts in. this bitch is Blind.

HOBBIES: she does read a lot and she does enjoy trying new things. nothing crafty but she's pretty down for new activities.

HABITS: daily workout, twice weekly call with her Team, grooming, work. she likes to stay busy and likes to stay organized - her planner is sacred.

NERVOUS TICKS: don't fucking touch her planner.

DRIVES/MOTIVATIONS: personal success. she was well known before she jumped into acting and modeling on her own by virtue of her parents but she absolutely wants to be her own person. she doesn't use her father's SAG name (legally, they're all allens rather than hawthorne but SAG), she doesn't do any mommy and me/daddy and me projects and she steers any interviews away from heavy talk about her family.

FEARS: personal failure. she knows she'll be okay no matter what - she's got the cushion of wealth and privilege - but she does not want to ever fail on her own merits.

POSITIVE TRAITS: loyal, generous, hard working, passionate, driven, fearless.

NEGATIVE TRAITS: bossy, stubborn, abrasive, no sense of limitations, single minded.

SENSE OF HUMOR: good! kind of dorky, prone to dragging the shit out of people.

DO THEY CURSE OFTEN?: ehhhhh what is often

FAVORITES

ACTIVITY: sex working, being alone. she spends so much time surrounded by people that being alone to relax is a luxury.

ANIMAL: she thinks dogs are awesome but she can't be around them without a shitload of benadryl so like, bears?

BEVERAGE: the iced coffee IS surgically attached to her hand, thanks!

BOOK:

CELEBRITY: her parents, corny as that is. least favorite is her brother, who's big on tiktok and habitually trying to use her pool for shenanigans.

COLOR: red

DESIGNER: she's a valentino bitch.

FOOD: a really, really good steak.

FLOWER: gardenias

GEM: pearls

HOLIDAY: christmas

MODE OF TRANSPORTATION: flying

MOVIE: father of the bride

MUSICAL ARTIST: kacey musgraves

SCENERY: the ocean. she's a coastal california girl and she does not like to be far from the water.

SCENT: ocean, gardenias, coffee.

SPORT: baseball

SPORTS TEAM: dodgers

TELEVISION SHOW: nothing specific but she will watch food network competition shows for hours.

WEATHER: bright and sunny

VACATION DESTINATION: exotic and warm.

ATTITUDES

GREATEST DREAM: having her career measured on its own merits; oscar. she doesn't not want a family and such outside of that but her career is her focus. she's in a good place and she doesn't want to put anything on pause.

GREATEST FEAR: poppy is alarmingly fearless. the only thing she truly fears is failing herself. nothing else really matters.

MOST AT EASE WHEN: with her family on the ranch in montecito to hang out and relax. she likes being around her sister - marieke is a classics student and has been bouncing about europe for the past seven years and they don't get to see each other very often. marieke is calm and completely removed from hollywood and she's basically the human equivelent of going to a spa.

LEAST AT EASE WHEN: not....no. poppy may be slightly uncomfortable but she is never going to let that show or acknowledge it.

WORST POSSIBLE THING THAT COULD HAPPEN: a scandal she can't recover from.

BIGGEST ACHIEVEMENT: her career, the first time she wasn't mentioned in conjuction with her parents in a magazine article in the first paragraph.

BIGGEST REGRET: nope.

MOST EMBARRASSING MOMENT: she's sure there have been but they're all pretty buried.

BIGGEST SECRET: keiran, 100%.

TOP PRIORITIES: her career. it's a thing she can control.

#c: poppy allen

1 note · View note

thetourguidebarbie · 5 years ago

Note

Not sure if you're taking prompts but I know I'll forget... Caroline makes assumptions about Klaus and compulsion, klaus is dispointed and thinking maybe she doesn't know him as well as he thought. Happy ending.

This has a lot of rape mentions, and it explores a topic that I’ve wanted to for a while (Katherine basically admitting to raping Stefan). That means this is not a Katherine friendly fic. You’ve been warned. Happy kc though, obviously!

---

"Ugh, this is exhausting," Caroline muttered to herself, flipping through her latest pick out of Klaus's collection of old grimoires and closing it with a soft thump and resting her head on her arms, trying to resist the urge to bang her forehead on the table.

Though witches aged much slower than normal humans,, Bonnie had begun to steadily show signs of it. She'd complained about having to get her roots done about four months ago, and Caroline couldn't seem to get it out of her brain. Even though she was acutely aware that Bonnie could be killed by external forces, she'd somehow forgotten that mortals died just from passing years. Caroline was growing desperate to find a way to keep her friend alive without taking away her powers.

She'd pestered Klaus for the last few weeks to use his connections, and though he'd called a few witches they'd either come up with nothing or refused to admit they had ideas. It was frustrating her that of all the problems she'd tackled over the years, this seemed to be the one that she was finding most difficult to solve. She was running out of options, and even though they had years until Bonnie died, Klaus had spent a thousand years breaking one curse, so an early start wouldn't hurt.

She pulled the next grimoire over and tried to figure out if she should get a snack. Elijah's eyes seemed to twitch whenever he caught her eating in the library, but he was off on some sort of trip with Katherine, and she'd definitely clean it up by the time he got back.

Mind made up, she went to the kitchen, frowning when she saw Klaus bent over the kitchen table and staring at his glass of blood as though it had deeply offended him. "What's wrong?"

He looked up at her, his dimples showing, though his smile was weaker than usual. "Nothing, love."

"Sounds like a lie, but we don't have to talk about it," Caroline said, plopping down beside Klaus and kissing him on the cheek, tangling her fingers with his. "How was your morning?"

"Fine, other than my half-empty bed when I woke," he said, somehow adding an edge underneath his light tone, and she winced.

Oh.

"I'm sorry. I know I've been busy with the whole Bonnie thing."

It hadn't occurred to her that Klaus would feel neglected while she dove head-first into research, but it shouldn't have surprised her. They'd been joined at the hip for a few decades now, and he wasn't used to her taking on projects without him.

"I understand how important it is to you," he said, and it was only said decades of being with him that helped her detect the forced element in his reassurance. She doubted he was lying, but she could admit that she'd kind of ignored him for a week or two other than when she asked him for help, assuming that he'd just take the time to do other things.

"Yeah, but you're important to me too."

"I should hope so," he teased, apparently reassured, the genuine smile he directed at her making her warm. "And I might have a lead, if you're interested."

"Of course!"

"I think you should ask Katerina for help."

"Katherine? Why?"

"She was a witch before she was a vampire, and her coven specialized in necromancy and other similar arts. Perhaps she'll know a thing or two about de-aging?"

"She's out of town, though," Caroline pointed out, already mentally calculating how many grimoires she could go through before Katherine returned.

She automatically tipped her head to the side when Klaus bent to press a kiss to her neck, his hand squeezing hers. "Then we have time for you to have a break before she gets back, hmm?"

"I guess I can't fault your logic," she teased, twisting to kiss him, remembering how much she craved him as soon as his hands tugged her waist to pull her closer. "A break sounds good."

---

Katherine had looked slightly surprised when Caroline brought her Bonnie problem up, though she recovered quickly, her lips twisting into a grimace. "Honestly, I've tried to forget everything to do with my family, but for you and not getting murdered by your boyfriend, I'll try."

"Thanks," Caroline said, the tension flowing out of her. "I really, really appreciate it."

"Don't mention it," Katherine said grumpily, following Caroline to the library and sitting down at the table, which was covered in books. She raised her eyebrows. "You've been busy."

"Yeah, I've kind of been working on it for a while."

"I can see that," Katherine said dryly. "Well, lucky for you I have a few ideas. I think you should at least consider the possibility of moving Bonnie to a younger body. It would solve all your problems."

"I don't know..." Caroline said slowly, knowing that Bonnie would never go for stealing someone else's body, and honestly Caroline wasn't all that comfortable with it either. She knew what it was like to have her body feel like it belonged to someone else, to have her own reactions and thoughts dependent on someone else's willingness to let her have them. Body jumping grossed her out to the nth degree. "It might be a good place to start in terms of research, but I don't think Bonnie will be okay with that."

"Why not?" Katherine asked, frowning.

Sometimes it was hard for Caroline to remember that Katherine's general attitude towards life involved doing what was best for her and would reach her goals at all times, damn the consequences to other people. She was willing to throw anyone under the bus to achieve her aims, including the people she loved, but especially people she didn't. "Because it's awful for the person that you're doing it to. You're taking away their agency. It's a violation."

Katherine shrugged. "Yeah, but Bonnie would be alive."

"I don't think I could do that to someone," Caroline said. "Just like, steal their life. And I doubt Bonnie would either."

"Listen, cupcake," Katherine drawled, and Caroline bristled at the condescending tone. "I've been around the block a few times. Sometimes you need to break a few eggs to make an omelette. Or you can just egg a car for fun. Why not live a little?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, I didn't strictly have to compel you to get my job done in Mystic Falls, but it was easy and gave me some leverage, and you were kind of fun to work with, other than when you locked me in a room to try to kill me."

"Yeah, I'm not sorry about that."

"I get why you did it," Katherine said with a shrug. "All I'm saying is that when you've lived as long as I have, humans are a means to an end. I grew up back when women weren't considered people and living for a few hundred years while your boyfriend tried to kill me wasn't exactly a walk in the park. It would have been impossible if I hadn't taken advantage of more than a few of them along the way."

"Taken advantage?" Caroline asked slowly, a horrible feeling building in her gut. She knew that Katherine was a murderer, but she'd always written it off as them having different philosophies and her needing to kill to stay alive. Caroline understood using people to save the ones she loved. She had never considered that Katherine might have done more than murder, though, that she seemed to consider humans animals, not worthy of respect or consideration.

"Sure. I had them get things for me or seduce their way into court. I couldn't do everything myself. I needed some help."

"You compelled people to seduce people?" Caroline asked, a bit sick to her stomach. "Couldn't you have just compelled your way in?"

"Again, easier. More fun. Sometimes I'd go with. Vampire libido is a bitch."

"That's horrible!"

"Oh don't act like you've never been tempted."

"I haven't, actually."

"Well, you can ask Stefan how he feels about it if you're so worried. Sure, it started as compulsion but he didn't stop being in love with me after he was turned."

"You compelled Stefan to be in love with you?" Caroline asked, trying not to physically jerk back from Katherine, feeling a little nauseated. She'd been friends with Katherine (sort of) for decades, had let her hang out in her bedroom and talk about their lives. They'd gone shopping together, gone on vacations... She knew Katherine wasn't a great person, that she'd killed people and manipulated them and used them for her own ends, but she'd never expected her to be a rapist. It hadn't squared with who she knew.

"Didn't he tell you?" Katherine asked, either not picking up on Caroline's revulsion or mistaking it for general disapproval. "He spent the first few months I was in Mystic Falls harping on and on about it..."

"Of course he did. You abused him," Caroline burst out. "What the hell, Katherine?"

She could remember Stefan's general dislike of Katherine, how he'd seemed to be genuinely scared for her, how he didn't want her near his brother or Elena. She'd thought it was because Katherine was older and therefore stronger, but maybe that wasn't it. The clues were all adding up now.

She vaguely remembered Stefan mumbling something about Katherine giving him dreams after they'd been locked in the cave together, though she hadn't asked too much about the content even though she'd wanted to. She'd worried it was too private or that she'd find out something she hadn't wanted to know. He'd been enormously paranoid for weeks after Katherine had pretended to be Elena, and that had seemed reasonable at the time for Elena's safety, but Caroline suddenly wondered if it was because he was disgusted that Katherine had tried to touch him again.

A part of her, a big part, would never forgive Stefan for letting Damon abuse her, even if she'd justified it to herself as Stefan either not knowing how bad it was or thinking that it would only be for a short time. Now though, she wondered if he'd felt helpless or didn't know how to approach the subject. It was still unforgivable, but maybe more understandable?

And now she was being so casual about it, like it wasn't a big deal at all. How could she think that? Or maybe to her it wasn't? Maybe this was how all vampires felt? That humans were lesser and theirs for the taking. It might make sense because a lot of them grew up in a time when that kind of violation was accepted as standard and could always be explained away as long as the person with more power had been the perpetrator, but that didn't make it any less wrong.

After all, Klaus had grown up in an era where women weren't people, and he'd seemed fine, right?

She felt her heart stop in her chest, her eyes growing wide. What if he wasn't? What if she was in bed with... she swallowed, trying to push the thought away, but she knew it would bother her until she addressed it, and she wasn't sure whether she could wait.

Well, really, she was sure that she couldn't wait, that she couldn't spend another single minute not knowing whether she'd unknowingly fallen in love with someone who did things that made her skin crawl.

"I have to go," Caroline said flatly, not bothering to thank Katherine for her help and speeding across the house, knocking on the door to Klaus's studio. She didn't smile when he opened it, her eyes filling with tears the second she saw him. All she wanted was for him to hug her and reassure her that he wasn't that kind of monster. "Hey."

"I see that Katerina was less than helpful?" he half-asked, pulling her into his arms. She stiffened but couldn't help but melt after a few moments, her eyes closing as she buried her face in his shoulder. "What's wrong, sweetheart?"

"I have a question," she said, swallowing and closing her eyes, taking a deep shaky breath. "And I need you to answer truthfully, okay? No matter what you think I'll think. Can you promise me?"

"Of course," he said without hesitation. "Well, I suppose I should amend that. I'll never lie to you, Caroline. I can't guarantee that I can answer any question."

Good enough.

"Katherine told me that she compelled Stefan to love her when he was human," Caroline said slowly, sitting down on the couch against the wall that she occasionally posed on. Klaus sat beside her, seeming to realize that this was more serious than he'd thought. "And I...did you?"

He frowned, though he seemed to know where she was going with it considering the wary look on his face. "Did I what, sweetheart?"

"Have you ever...you know. Compelled someone?"

"I've compelled many people," he said dryly. "Though I assume what you want to know is whether I've compelled anyone for sex?"

"Yeah," she admitted, suddenly not wanting to know in case he had.

"No," he said bluntly. "Never."

Caroline took a deep, shaky breath. "Okay. Good."

"Did you really think so low of me?" he asked softly, tapping his finger under her chin to get her to look at him. He looked hurt, though he was doing a good job of not lashing out.

"No. No, I just...after Katherine I felt like I had to check, you know?" she asked before continuing in a rush. "Because I can't let that happen to me again. I can't...if you'd been...It wasn't about you, Klaus. It was about me."

"Again?" he whispered, his eyes flashing gold. "What do you mean 'again', Caroline?"

"I mean, you know what Damon did, right?"

"I recall him doing many ill-advised things," Klaus said dryly. "Can you refresh my memory?"

"When I was human, he compelled me."

"To spy, correct?"

"And to use me as a blood bag," Caroline said, taking a deep breath before continuing. "And, you know, to sleep with me."

"Beg pardon?"

"I mean, I was so scared after he showed me what he was. When I woke up the next morning, I tried to leave, but he wouldn't let me. I threw a lamp at him and he just laughed."

"Caroline..."

"And then everyone just let him. They let him do that to me. Stefan knew and he just...he did nothing. Elena and Bonnie didn't do anything either. They used me to try to vervain Damon. They had me drink it to poison him. And after Damon compelled me to not be scared and to let him...you know...he told me that when he was done with me he'd kill me. And I was screaming inside but I couldn't say anything but yes. It was like my brain was yelling at me to be scared and to scream and run, but I felt myself giggle and my arms just went around him and, ugh. It was vile and horrific and terrible and I can't even think about it without wanting to lock all the doors in the house and curl up under a blanket, and it's been fifty years."

"I didn't know," Klaus said quietly.

"I guess I didn't want you to," Caroline admitted, squeezing her eyes shut. "I mean, not consciously. I always told myself that it just never came up, but I just couldn't say it. I guess I thought that you'd think..."

"I'd think?" he prompted after she trailed off.

"I don't know. That I was stupid to go home with him the first time? Or like, that it was my fault? Because you're so old and back in ye olden days women were property and only existed to pop out babies and it didn't matter what the thought."

"Have I ever made you feel like that?"

"No," she said vehemently, shaking her head. "No. You've never made me feel like that. But I was worried that you had before. To someone else."

"I prefer that my lovers choose to come to me," Klaus said easily. "And it's a rather strong preference. One I've never ignored. Occasionally they took some coaxing, especially the men, but I've never compelled myself a lover, nor have I taken one who didn't ask."

"Okay."

"The chase used to be my favorite part, you see," he said before giving her a dimpled grin. "Until I met you, and then I decided to convince you to stay. I'm rather fond of you, you see."

"You fancy me?" she teased, though her tone was still a bit watery.

"More every day," he said, giving her the kind of smile he saved for when they were alone.

"Sap."

"For you. Feel better, love?"

"A little. I still kind of never want to see Katherine's face again though, to be honest."

"She'll move out," Klaus said simply. "Elijah will have to make his own arrangements."

"Okay," she said, swallowing. "Thanks."

"If you need anything, all you have to do is ask, Caroline. I should hope the last two decades taught you that."

"Sometimes I still don't believe it," she admitted, laying her head on his chest so that she wouldn't have to look at him while she spoke her insecurities aloud. "That you love me, I mean."

"Perhaps I'll have to make a point of showing it more," he murmured. "But know that I do, Caroline."

She let him pull her closer, and she buried her face in his shoulder, humming contentedly. They fell into an easy silence, though she could practically feel that he was deep in thought even as he played with her hair and fiddled with the hem of her top.

He broke the silence after a few minutes, his tone carefully light, though she could hear the danger beneath. "Damon's alive."

She sighed, having known this was coming. "He is."

"Do you want him to be?"

She considered his question. She'd had more than a few revenge fantasies, honestly, but she wasn't sure how she'd feel about acting on them. She'd never been fond of killing people just because she wanted to, but this was a special case, right?

"No," she said. "I don't."

"I can take care of that for you. Unless you'd like to do it yourself?"

"I don't want to see him. Ever again."

"I'll arrange for it to be done, then," Klaus said. "I'll see to it personally."

"Okay."

"And your friends?" he asked, the last word almost sarcastic. She bristled.

"What about them?"

"They let this happen."

"Why do you think I haven't talked to Elena or Stefan in years?"

"But the Bennett witch. You're sure that you want to pour all of your energy into saving her life when she did nothing to--"

"Don't, Klaus. Please."

He was quiet for a moment before he swallowed audibly. "I apologize. I simply...I'll do whatever you need, Caroline. Whatever you decide."

"We worked through it a long time ago," Caroline said after a few seconds of thinking through how she wanted to say it. "Bonnie was just trying to do the right thing. She's apologized, and I know that if she could go back in time and change it, she would. That's enough for me, and I need it to be enough for you too. Okay?"

He nodded once. "Whatever you want, love."

She smiled slightly. "Thanks. Any luck with the non-Katherine sources?"

"I'll keep looking," Klaus promised. "Was this conversation with Katerina a result of a conversation about transferring Bonnie's soul into another body?"

"Yeah. And I don't want to. It's wrong."

"Human science has come a long way in the past few decades," Klaus pointed out. "I think there may be a similar solution."

"Really?" Caroline asked, sitting up to look at him more easily. "What?"

"Cloning," Klaus said simply. "We can pay a surrogate. We certainly have the money to. We'll put her new body in a protected chamber under a sleeping spell. Once it's physically grown, we'll transfer Bonnie's soul. No life taken away, no bodies violated. She keeps her magic."

"Klaus," Caroline breathed, her eyes widening. "That's an amazing idea."

"Thank you, sweetheart. I do try."

She pecked him on the lips. "I love you."

"And I, you."

"And I'm sorry for doubting you," she said more quietly. "I know you're not that kind of person, but--"

"But you had to make sure. Do your thorough research," Klaus teased, reaching to tuck a curl behind her ear. "I understand."

"Thanks."

"Not at all."

#klaroline #klaroline drabbles #klaroline drabble #klaroline fanfiction #mydrabbles #paigemarie007 #ask #answer

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tangenciales · 4 years ago

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captain-s-rogers · 5 years ago

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It’s time for a challenge ladies and gents!

I absolutely love the TV show Psych! It’s one of my all time favorite shows and the dialogue in it is downright hilarious! Because of this I thought why not do a challenge using the dialogue from the show as prompts! That being said, I have selected 50 quotes from the show for the prompts!

ON TO THE RULES, REGULATIONS AND PROMPTS!

Rules

No need to be following me, but it would be nice, this is open to everyone.

Send me an ASK with your prompt choice (along with a backup) and your pairing of choice. Reblogs or replies with entries will be ignored. Asks without pairings indicated will be ignored. It just makes everything easier for me to keep track of this way.

I will be answering these asks privately so I don’t clog up everyone’s dashboards, which means no entering on anon. If you want to enter and will be posting on a side blog just let me know the name of the blog in your ask.

There will be only one spot open per prompt, however if this garners enough interest and all the prompts get taken I may open it up to two

This can be used as a oneshot, drabble or start of a series. Please don’t make it part of an ongoing series, I want to be able to read every fic in the challenge and I will not be able to catch up on a bunch of series.

Use the tag #ivehearditbothwayschallenge within the first five tags on the post

Be sure to mention that the fic is for my challenge as well as tag me in the actual post.

All pairings are welcome but please check my FAQ to see what I do and do not read.

Your pairing must be within the Marvel fandom.

It can be as short or as long as you’d like. All I ask is that if it is over 500 words to please use a keep reading feature.

Sign ups begin as soon as this is posted and will end April 30, 2020 the day before the challenge due date.

Posting begins whenever you finish writing!

Entries will be due by May 1, 2020. If you need an extension at any point or need to drop out just shoot me a message chances are I’ll say yes – we all have lives and things get in the way so I totally get it.

I will update the prompt list as often as possible with what is still available. Once a prompt has been filled I will cross it out.

Some of the prompts have characters’ names from the show, I will put these in [ ] so you know to change them!

HAVE FUN! I want you guys to enjoy this!

I think that just about covers it for the rules! If you have an questions feel free to drop an ask! Now let’s move on to the prompts!!

Prompts

“Just because you put syrup on something don’t make it pancakes.”

“Well, much like Lady Gaga, I was born this way.”

“We take our hand-held entertainment very seriously.”

“Everyone stop what you’re doing and only pay attention to me.”

“They tell me I got something called Narcissistic Personality Disorder. But, uh, the truth is this lustrous hair and dimpled chin are merely chapter one. I’m a veritable cornucopia of high-octane maladies, such as outrageous intelligence syndrome. And a little obsessive successful disorder.” @captain-rogers-beard

“I can’t help being a gorgeous fiend. It’s just the card I drew.”

“What isn’t clear is why people always say ‘goes without saying’, yet still feel compelled to say the thing that goes without saying. Doesn’t that bother you?”

“First question. What is your name?” “There is a murderer on the loose.” “That is not your name.”

“Sorry, I was too busy James Bonding it up in here.” @sagechanoafterdark

“I will eat you in manageable, bite-sized pieces.”

“She’s obviously meeting a new boy toy. Maybe one even younger than the last.” “Younger? Who do you think she’s meeting with, Justin Beiber?” @arrowsandmixtapes

“[Guster], you have to wake up to the real world: people have sex and kill each other. That’s the real world. Not some magical ‘feelings’ place.”

“Holy crap, are you checking your email?” “I get productive when I’m nervous.”

“I wanted to be heroic.” “Oh, [Mary], with a flare gun?”

“I’ve seen it all.” “You’ve seen it all through the cracks in your fingers while you were hiding your eyes.”

“I still smell like stinky nuts!”

“I’m not big on nude handshakes.”

[Gus] don’t be Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Marzipan.” “It’s Azkaban.” “I’ve heard it both ways.”

“I don’t lose things. I place things in locations which later elude me.”

“I’m just saying, technology is way overrated.” “That’s interesting -- just yesterday you told me you intend on having your wedding in space.”

“Are you in my apartment?” “Please. I haven’t snuck into your apartment for weeks. Which reminds me, you’re all out of peanut butter.” @thorfanficwriter

“I can’t believe you thought that text was from me. It lacked all nuance, my signature mocking tone, and was utterly devoid of emoticons.”

“Well, fooling around with your best friend’s sister certainly wasn’t your most brilliant idea.” “No, that was the toaster alarm I invented in the third grade that woke you up by smacking you in the face with a waffle.”

“I have an idea, but we’ll need cool names.”

“[Mindy] it’s official: you’ve won bitchiest banana.”

“Just call me the suck-stopper. No, wait. Don’t ever call me that.”

“Well, at least that gives us the ‘how’. Now we just gotta figure out the ‘why’, which reminds me, [Gus], will you please get us those tickets for The Who?” “Where?”

“Where do I get a juice box and does it come in grapalicious.”

“I think your shirt and his shirt should get together and go bowling.”

“I’m gonna crack her like a bad back!”

“How about you play six degrees of kiss my ass?”

“Where’d you get that suit, the toilet store?”

“Oh, yeah? Well, I’ve got an ice-cold can of whoop-ass just sitting in that fridge!” “Actually, it’s diet whoop-ass.”

“Hooray for loopholes!”

“The chips say you’re a cheater, cheater pumpkin eater!”

“Clouds don’t kill people. People kill people.”

“We find the mystery lover, we find her.” “Dude. Why don’t I ever get to say things like that?”

“There is something I’ve got to get off my chest.” “Is it your shirt? Please say no.”

“Heard about Pluto? That’s messed up.”

“This place is trashed.” “Maybe Johnny Depp stopped by.” “I’m sorry, did that joke just arrive in a time machine from 1992?”

“Don’t touch that, it’s blood.” “It’s not blood.” “Enjoy your hepatitis.”

“There’s a Lt. Crunch here to see you.” “Crunch?” “Actually, I’ve been promoted. It’s Captain Crunch.”

“How do you just eat when there’s a dead guy laying there?” “What, is that rude? Am I supposed to share?” @mermaidxatxheart

“I just got a lap dance from Patrick Swayze!”

“Kudos on the childrearing. Let me know how the therapy goes.”

“You’re dating a murderer!” “Not exclusively.”

“Okay, you have got to stop calling your nose the Super Smeller. If you want to nickname a body part, nickname your butt, man. Call it the Tight-Bouncer or the Hexagon. Ladies are gonna dig that.”

“You cannot sit here alone in the dark in a parked car. You’ll get picked up for Mopery.” “Mopery?” “With intent to creep. Trust me, you don’t want that. It’ll put a big hole in your future.”

“How can you tell that someone’s a compulsive liar? I mean, assuming that their pants aren’t on fire.”

“And that, ladies and gentlemen, is precisely why time travel is not only possible but may have already happened.”

Tagging for interest and signal boosting!

@arrowsandmixtapes @the-murder-strut-murdered-me @growningupgeek @captain-rogers-beard @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan

#ivehearditbothwayschallenge #challenge time #challenge announcement

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