#i know i didn't socialize the most as a teen but i was depressed with an addiction to reading

[ordinary-barbie]

sexy to someone - porco galliard x reader

summary: After scrolling social media you're feeling particularly insecure about your looks. Your boyfriend, Porco, is determined to convince you that you really are pretty.

word count: 2.3k words

tags: fem!reader, pet names (babe and baby), reader has a tooth gap bc I'm nothing if not self-indulgent, dirty talk, oral (fem receiving), face sitting, vaginal fingering, doggy style, breast play, praise kink, consent checks, reader is self-conscious about her body and struggles with mental health issues

minors and ageless blogs dni.

title comes from the song "sexy to someone" by Clairo.

Normally you loved scrolling through social media, but you just couldn't do it today. If you saw one more vacation photo or one more bachelorette party with someone's former sorority sisters, the already deep pit in your chest would cave in. And it wasn't anyone's fault: you couldn't get mad at your friends or random influencers and celebs for simply posting about their lives. To put it delicately, you were just feeling like a steaming pile of garbage compared to everyone else on your Instagram feed.

Today you hated pretty much everything about your looks. Your tooth gap looked like an eyesore. Your eyes seemed dull and sleepy. Your nose? Meh. Your figure? Nothing to write home about. It was a wonder that anyone liked your Instagram photos at all, and especially unbelievable that you managed to snag a boyfriend, especially someone like Porco Galliard.

Porco was an absolute babe. You'd never been hugely into blondes, but something about him and his undercut had got your heart racing when you met him at a frat party that your bestie Pieck, a Delta Zeta, had invited you to. You were always pretty reserved, and especially nervous to be around a bunch of frat dudes. Luckily, Porco eased your nerves by making you laugh, and the rest was history.

He was funny, confident, and hot as hell, while you were more reserved. When you'd first gotten together, you felt like the nerdy female protagonist in an 80s teen movie who managed to land the most popular guy in school. That had subsided after five years of dating, but now you couldn't help but feel the insecurity clawing at your brain again. Porco could easily get any woman he wanted - why you, of all people? Was he simply settling until someone better came along?

You rolled over onto your stomach and buried your face into one of the couch's armrests, quietly sobbing. Why were you like this? Why couldn't you be hotter so you could look like someone who actually belonged with Porco? Porco shouldn't be with someone like you. There were plenty of cute sorority girls he could've gone after in college, including Pieck or your other friend Sasha.

You recognized (thanks to months of therapy) that you were in a thought spiral, but you felt powerless to stop it. Normally you would go on your phone to distract yourself, but since social media had triggered your insecurities, you decided to settle for a nice little depression nap. That ought to make you feel better, right?

-

When you woke up, you didn't feel as crushingly awful as you did before, but you were still in a bit of a shitty mood. You snuggled tightly in your blanket and stared up at the ceiling, not even moving when Porco came home from work.

"Hey babe, I'm home! Traffic was nuts today - that podcast you recommended to me honestly saved my ass from dying of boredom," Porco joked, kicking his shoes off and making his way into the kitchen.

When you turned your head towards Porco but didn't react, his cheery expression morphed into worry. "Baby, what's wrong? Is everything okay?"

"It's nothing, don't worry," you hurriedly assured him, not wanting to be a burden, especially since he'd had a long day at work.

Unfortunately, Porco was a stubborn motherfucker, so he kept prying. "Come on, don't do that thing where you try to sweep shit under the rug. I can tell something's bothering you. You know you can tell me anything."

You sat up, protectively wrapping your arms around your midsection and chewing at your bottom lip. "I just - why are you with me, Porco?" you asked, your voice wavering. "I mean, look at you. You could be with anyone you wanted and you settled for me."

Porco furrowed his brow. "Baby, where is this coming from? I picked you because you're funny and kind and fuckin' hot."

You snorted. You appreciated Porco complimenting you in his Porco way, but you weren't totally buying what he was selling. "Please, Porco. Gigi Hadid is fuckin' hot. Pieck is fuckin' hot. I'm just..." You gestured to yourself vaguely, making a face.

Porco scoffed, shaking his head. "First of all, Pieck is like a sister to me, so don't even go there. Second of all, yeah, Gigi Hadid is pretty, but she's not you. You're actually the hottest woman I know. I honestly feel like I outkicked my coverage here."

"Porco, stop acting like I'm some big prize," you insisted. "Especially when I scroll through social media and every woman I follow is pretty much a smokeshow, including my friends."

Porco said your name sternly, making you jump. "Is that where this is coming from? Babe, please don't compare yourself to Instagram. You know everyone curates their feed to only share the good shit, even the celebs."

"I know, but that doesn't change the fact that there's so many gorgeous girls out there, and I'm just...me," you responded, staring down at your lap.

"Hey! Look at me," Porco commanded, and you reluctantly met his gaze. "You are so desirable to me. I love you. And I wish I could fight your shitty brain for making you ever think otherwise."

You sighed. "Porco, I love you. I just wish I could see the person you see. I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror earlier and just felt ugly. I hate that I can't just make these thoughts go away."

Porco moved closer to you, kissing both of your cheeks. "Babe, you are a fuckin smokeshow to me. Please let me prove it to you..."

"And just how do you plan to do that?" you asked, arching an eyebrow. You tried to look impassive but you couldn't help but rub your thighs together in anticipation.

"Like this," Porco simply replied, ghosting over your lips with his own. You shuddered, still amazed at how turned on Porco could make you without touching you. "But first - are you sure you want this? And you remember our safe word, right? Just say 'red' and I will stop, no matter what."

You nodded. Porco frowned. "Use your words, baby."

"Yes, I want this. Please touch me, Porco," you whined impatiently, your mind now clouded with lust.

"I mean damn, if you insist, babe," Porco joked before kissing you deeply. He draped his body over yours on the couch, suddenly enveloping you with the smell of his favorite cologne. It was heavenly.

Since your mouth was occupied, you tapped Porco's shoulder, and he instantly ceased his movements. "Everything good, babe?" he worriedly asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine, I just - could we move it to the bedroom, please?" you shyly asked.

Porco smirked. "Okay, dirty girl," he teased, leading you by the hand into your bedroom. Once inside, he slammed the door with his foot, deeply making out with you and letting his hands roam all over your body. You made a motion to take your bra off but Porco stopped you in your tracks.

"Please let me do it, baby," Porco begged, and you happily obliged. After tossing your bra to the other side of the room, Porco shoved his hands under your shirt, massaging your breasts. "Man, I'll never get tired of these tits. They feel so good in my hands."

Porco bit at your bottom lip, and you let out a moan. Porco was driving you wild right now. "That's my good girl," he praised, and those four little words sent a shockwave straight to your core. "I love it when you moan so prettily for me. Now take those clothes off, baby."

That lit a fire under you. You quickly rid yourself of your t-shirt (really one of Porco's, a vintage shirt from the university you both went to) and sweatpants, standing nakedly in front of Porco except for a simple pair of black undies.

Porco let out a breath. "Oh fuck, baby. You're so goddamn sexy." You shyly smiled at him. "Now take a seat for me; I need to taste you."

You sat down at the end of the bed, gazing at Porco as he kneeled in front of you. The fact that he was still dressed in his light blue button-down, navy tie, and khaki slacks from work made this even hotter, somehow. Porco pushed your panties to the side, moaning when he saw gossamer strings of your slick clinging to the fabric.

Porco dove in, lapping at your clit with his tongue and grunting as you arched your back in pleasure. "Can't believe you think I'd want anyone else when I have the sweetest pussy right here. You taste so fuckin good, baby."

Your mind was blank, devoid of any coherent thoughts except for how fucking amazing your boyfriend was with his tongue. You were in the throes of ecstasy, grabbing at his hair to push his face even closer to you.

Porco removed his lips from your clit, eliciting a whine from you. "Easy there, baby," he said, chuckling. "I'm gonna eat you out; I just wanna finger fuck you too. Is that okay?"

Aroused, you reached for his hand, but Porco tutted, shaking his head at you. "Use your words, babe," he reminded you.

"Porco I need your fingers inside me," you whined. "Need your mouth and your fingers in my pussy."

Porco smirked, a dark glint in his eye. "Can't possibly deny you when you ask me so nicely." He returned to sucking on your clit while his fingers pumped in and out of your opening. "Babe, I can't believe you're so wet for me. I could fuckin drown in your pretty little cunt."

You gasped, feeling a warmth in your belly. You felt like you were about to burst, and Porco could sense it too. "Come for me, baby," Porco encouraged you, fingering your clit. "Make a fuckin' mess on my face."

Before you knew it, you were cumming, coating Porco's face with your wetness. Porco wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, moaning happily as he licked his fingers.

"Let me return the favor," you offered, your gaze focused on the way Porco's erection strained in his pants.

"Nah, not this time," Porco refused. "This is all about you, baby."

You softened you gaze, beaming at your boyfriend. You truly did adore this man.

"Be a good girl, lose the panties, and lie on your stomach," Porco instructed as he unbuckled his belt. "Get that pretty ass of yours in the air for me."

You quickly obeyed, tossing your underwear onto the floor and lying face down on the bed, sticking your ass in the air. Porco hummed appreciatively, rubbing your butt cheeks in his hand and lightly biting at the skin before soothing the pain with his kisses. "Can't believe this amazing ass is all mine."

He got up from the floor, retrieving a condom from his bedside table to slide over his dick. You scooched farther up on the bed to give him more room, and the two of you moaned in unison as Porco pushed himself into your entrance. Porco had an average-sized cock, but what he lacked in length, he more than made up for in girth.

Porco growled as your cunt clenched around his length. "Fuckin love the way your pussy feels around me. So warm and so damn tight."

Porco pulled out of you and slammed back in, making you see stars. He pumped in and out, snapping his hips and muttering praises in your ears the entire time. You tightly gripped the sheets, feeling your body light up in pleasure every time the tip of his dick grazed that special spot that made your toes curl.

"Are you close?" Porco asked as you writhed under him. You hummed affirmatively, unable to form words anymore. "Me too. Play with your clit for me, baby. Let's cum together."

You rubbed at your clit, feeling a second orgasm about to wash over you. You came with a yelp, feeling Porco's cock spasm inside you as he spilled his seed into the condom, moaning your name. He tossed the used condom in the wastebasket next to his bedside table, and then two of you laid in bed for a few minutes, drenched in sweat and panting heavily.

"Porco...thank you. I needed that," you admitted, lovingly squeezing Porco's hand.

Porco tenderly looked at you, softly pecking your lips. "Of course, baby. You know I always want to make you feel good. And I hope me blowing your back out is proof that I actually think you're hot."

Your mouth dropped open. "Porco Galliard!" you shouted, playfully hitting him in the shoulder.

Porco snickered, but his face soon softened. "Seriously though, I'm glad I could give you what you needed. You know I love you so much, even on your bad-brain days."

You felt a warmth in your chest. Porco could be cocky, sarcastic, and crass, but he had the biggest heart. You were overwhelmed with love for this man who had been by your side through years of highs and lows, who always encouraged you and looked at you like you hung the moon in the sky.

"I love you so much, baby," you said, nuzzling into Porco's chest. He kissed the top of your head and tightened his grip around you.

"Hey babe?" you asked after a few minutes, wiggling a little in Porco's grip.

Porco cocked an eyebrow. "Don't tell me you're ready for round two already. I mean I'm down, but let a man take a shower first."

You good-naturedly rolled your eyes at him. "No, you dingus, I just have to pee."

"And they say romance is dead," Porco quipped, loosening his grip so you could get up and use the bathroom.

"Okay, mister drama king," you playfully replied. "Cut the sass and maybe I'll help you get cleaned up." You waggled your ass at him before disappearing into the bathroom.

Porco grinned, fondly gazing at you even while you were on the toilet. "You're incredible, you know that? I can't want to marry your ass someday."

You chuckled. Just Porco, being Porco - and you loved him for it.

[lolita-lollipop]

could you do a platonic bakudeku taking care of/pampering depressed reader?

SOFT YANDERE AIZAWA X FEM READER

I apologize I read this ask at 4 am with no sleep and saw Aizawa, so I wrote Aizawa. If you want, put in another request and I’ll write the original

———————————————————————

Your health overall had become a stressor in Aizawas life, ever since he had gotten to know you better as a human being, it wasn't that you tried to hurt yourself, but it just seemed to happen. That worried him more often than he would like to admit.

You had come to U.A. as a teacher's aid, or a teacher in training, and were assigned to his classroom. At first, you generally kept your head down, your eyes glued to the floor, not intentionally, but you were a little uncomfortable working with somebody as world-renowned as he was. being somebody who had just graduated high school a year ago, it was strange to be in the same loop as somebody like him.

Aizawa had known that you struggled with your health constantly, both mental and physical. Even upon the first meeting, he saw glimmers of anxiety in your eyes, the picking at your skin, the biting of your nails. All things he'd seen in teens before.

He even experienced it before in his younger years, when he was in high school at UA he went through a lot and had to deal with it all by himself, too fearful of being judged to reach out for help, even from his teachers. It made him feel so connected with you, except he wouldnt give you the option of independence. Even if you hadn't openly stated that you were struggling, he always tried to make your life easier for you, just the little things that always counted.

but, while you were shy, he immediately knew the two of you would be close, you were just so young, so much younger than he was, and he felt such a pull to care for you like he would his students. You were so selfless, so optimistic. Showing up to work with little treats or a coffee for him almost every day (even with your less-than-low teachers-aid salary), being so soft-spoken when giving criticism. He would always see you with a smile on your face, and you were so willing to help anybody at any time. That worried him even more.

It hadn't taken long for you to wriggle yourself into his heart, you worked too well with his student and always were trying to improve. When the two of you became close, he started looking into your background more. Your medical records, your records with the hero association, it was for your good, partially for his curiosity. He didn't want to invade your privacy, but the way you acted was strange to him, you were social and closed off at the same time, and it confused him.

Even so, Aizawa looked forward to your daily interactions throughout the year. The way you made him lunch every day, the way you always looked to him when you had a problem, the way you hovered close to him at teacher's events and meetings. He became used to your presence, even had come to like it.

Imagine his surprise when he saw the countless therapist appointments, medications, and rehabilitation visits written across your medical records. It shocked him honestly, but as he thought about it more it made more sense, tis is why you were the way you were, and he still loved it. That's why he thought you were so likable, it just made him want to protect you more.

Your relationship with him was a little strange, at least to most others. What kind of pro hero just becomes best friends with a quirkless teacher aide like you? He did everything with you, lunch, teaching, and sometimes even on weekends the two of you would hang out. You and Aizawa became very very close very very fast, of course, neither of you minded.

He ended up playing somewhat of a fatherly role to you, helping you when you were hurt, paying for meals when the two of you went out, and caring for you. Eventually, you trusted him enough to reveal the issues you dealt with on the daily.

Your vulnerability with him was cute honestly, the way you were so willing to share your deepest emotions and fears with him.

You told him everything that’s happened, everything that’s caused you to be like this. And he listened, he listened well and hard, and made you feel accepted and loved. Your relationship escalated from there. He was the first person you would call when you needed help, the first person to cry to, to laugh with. eventually, you realized that you loved him. NOT LIKE THAT. But you loved him.

As a child your parents paid no attention to you, from the day you were born they wrote you off as a nuisance, leaving you to fend for yourself from the moment you were able to speak. It made you grow up too fast, having somebody like him was nice for a change.

So when your teacher's aid year ended, and you had to go back to school, you were devastated. That was the first time you had ever cried to Aizawa, and it showed you just how kind he could be. From then on you knew that you would last with him, teacher's aid or not. And so you moved back to your old apartment near your little teaching school, it had taken every ounce of self-control for him to not move with you.

As months passed by he visited often, but slowly, he started to see you change. It was slight at first, just having less energy when you spoke with him, but slowly it ascended into so much more. Your life was all of a sudden so filled with stress, school overloaded your life, and it taxed your health, mental and physical. He watched as your nails slowly became more gnawed down, your skin getting more and more picked at, your eye bags becoming darker and darker. His worry grew with every day that you failed to call him.

Sometimes it would get bad enough that he would force you to accept his help, whether it be money or food or clothing, or even just a place to stay, he would make you accept it, even if you didn't want to. Aizawa just couldn't fathom why you wanted to be so independent, he suggested you move in with him so he could watch over you, but you had denied it quickly, explaining how you "needed to do this on your own".

He found himself feeling responsible for you. You didn't know how to take care of yourself, not in his eyes, it was only natural, you hadn’t grown up with much guidance towards self-care (as you had told him in a moment of vulnerability). So he would help you. It became somewhat of a routine for him to check on your well-being, sending a text at noon every single day just to make sure you're okay. It comforted both of you.

But, as time passed, school and work filled both of your schedules to the brim, and you never had time to travel across town to each other. So you slowly drifted; it started as days without talking to each other, but days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months. At some point, he realized that he hadn't even checked in on you for 5 months.

After coming to that realization his worry washed over him once again, cold flowed from his head to his feet. You weren't ready to be alone, oh god what had he done?

He hadn't seen you in months, however, it felt like years, knowing that, he couldn't even imagine how you were feeling. The last time he had seen you, you had been doing well, eating and sleeping healthily, you seemed alright, so he felt okay in leaving you for a long period of time.

He should've kept a closer watch on you when he was away, he should've monitored the bank account he had set up for you, and he should've checked the cameras outside your apartment more. It used to be comforting for him to take a break from his life and check in on you, when did he start forgetting? Was he that bad of a best friend? He needed to see you. now.

And so, after 6 months shouts Aizawa was standing at the entrance to your apartment complex. Staring at the dirt growing thick on the exterior, the windows that had grown foggy and unclear with age.

Walking up the front steps, he observed just how quiet it was, the atmosphere was almost unsettling with how abnormally silent it was., you had refused to let him buy you a nice apartment near the urban areas of the city, so you lived near the rural edge in the older areas. The entire district was old and only growing older, crime rates were spiking, and buildings were slowly breaking down. This particular building was aging with every day. Paint chipping, door handles rusting, the elevator no longer was even in service.

He stared up the long flights of stairs, each step sad and grey and growing rust at the edges, even though they weren't metal. Imagining you have to make the climb to the seventh floor every day, Aizawa sighed. He honestly doesn’t know why you would choose to do this to yourself.

As he began to ascend the steps, he realized just how dingy the place was, the steps were concrete yet they were still able to squeak with every time he put a foot forward. There was a faint smell of cigarette smoke and alcohol in the air, combined with body odor and the smell of mildew, this place was just sad and lonely. Even the lights were going out, flickering and glowing a dirty yellow. The last time he was here the building wasn't in this bad of a condition.

By the time he was able to make it up to your apartment, his pity had grown severely. Why were you living like this? Why would he let you live like this? He felt at fault, one of the top heroes and he couldn't even manage to put his best friend in a nice apartment, even if they didn't want to be there. He wouldnt let you live here anymore, not when it was this bad. With that, he left three firm knocks on the door, the paint was chipping down, revealing old rotting wood.

The sound rang out through the hallway, cutting through the heavy air. When you didn't answer he knocked again, this time louder, and the sound reverberated across the large piece of wood again. He knew your doorbell didn't work, last time the two of you talked you told him allllllllllll about how you'd been trying to get maintenance to fix it, they were refusing. How long ago was that? It should've been fixed by now, he knew it probably wasn't though.

After the second knock, he pulled the spare key from above the doorframe, such an obvious place to hide a key, it was a wonder your home hadn't been broken into yet, even though he told you to move it elsewhere you hadn't. You were stubborn like that sometimes, he couldn't help that he loved it. The door unlocked fairly quickly, after a few harsh shoves to un-jam it, something you also had mentioned last time he talked to you. Something that was still not fixed.

he pushed the door open slowly, and a loud creak rang out. the rough feeling of the doorknob against his fingers was sandy and divoted. The silence in the room was louder than anything else. looking back at the door he saw almost four new locks that weren't there last time he was there.

“Y/n? I figured I should stop by, I was in town.” He yelled through the apartment door, loud enough to inform you of his presence but not loud enough to startle you, he was met with nothing more than the clanking of your air conditioning.

The stench hit him before anything else did, smelling like somebody died and then was resurrected only to die again in here, the scent was strong enough to make him have a double take. Usually, you were very clean, obsessing over the cleanliness of your apartment, even if it was old and rotting. It was strange enough that you hadn't answered the door when he knocked, but now not answering his call? Something was wrong.

“Y/n? Are you here?” he continued, stepping further into the small room with a grimace, it was a mess, not dirty, but cluttered everywhere, like you had stopped caring where things go. This was already a bad sign, last time your apartment looked like you weren't doing very well. Aizawa knew that he should've checked in on you sooner, he was trying to let you have a little space to feel independent, but he shouldn't have.

Hurriedly he rushed to your bedroom to check if you were even here, and what he saw horrified him. Upon opening your door he was hit again with the same smell, this time just a thousand times more concentrated. The sight of your room was just awful, he'd seen some bad things, but it's different when it's you. Clothing was strewn everywhere in large piles, packets of ramen and other instant foods lay discarded beside the bed, and some of the picture frames that were hung on the walls had fallen to the floor. Your room wasn't very large in the first place, so the trash and clothing crowded the space, making the air even denser.

It took him a few moments to realize that you were here, just buried under months of trash. You were hidden under a crevice in your bed, sleeping so heavily it worried him. Immediately he moved to get you out, shoving all the stuff off of you and looping his arm under your waist to hoist you up, you were lighter, frailer. Your breathing was shallow, almost like you were struggling to inhale and exhale a sufficient amount. He cupped your head on his shoulder and hurried out of your bedroom.

He frowned at your state, you hadn't been eating well, even though he made sure you set reminders for yourself every day. Your clothing looked baggy and dirty, your eyes sunken in and glued shut, and your hair. Oh god your hair, he could tell it hadn't been brushed in quite some time, you had it tied back but he could still see the knots starting at your scalp. How had it gotten this bad? More importantly, why hadn't you called him? He was supposed to be there for you, but clearly, he wasn't.

“Y/n, Y/n cmon I need you to wake up sweetheart, please. Open those eyes for me, I know you can do it.” he practically begged, cupping your head with his hand and holding you up to get a better look at you. He shook you gently and watched as you stirred. Groaning in your sleep, your eyes groggily fluttered open, you brought your hand up to rub the sleep haze out of your vision, only to realize you were in the grasp of somebody else. You let out a startled squeak and sent your hands flying out in front of you to push the person off, then you were reminded how exhausted your body was, as even that small motion brought pain bursting through your fingertips.

“Whoah- whoah it's okay- y/n it's me, it's me- I’m not going to hurt you- you're okay-” he stammered out soothing words, and one of his hands immediately went out to grasp your own, holding them still. He wasn't worried about you hurting him, you probably couldn't even if you wanted to, he was worried about you hurting yourself. Upon realizing that it was your best friend, and not an intruder aiming to do horrible things, you relaxed in his arms, finding comfort in physical touch for the first time in months. God you missed this, more than anything.

“Why didn't you tell me you were coming around? I would've cleaned up,” you spoke, your voice hoarse and raspy, almost like you hadn't been using it that often. You met his gaze, and he stared back with this sympathetic look you had grown to know so well, immediately your eyes found the floor, embarrassed. You knew that it meant he was going to lecture you about something, and you could predict the words that would come out of his mouth before he even spoke.

“I figured it would be alright if I came in like I usually did… Y/n we need to talk- are you okay? This-this is bad, worse than last time- I told you to call me if you were feeling like this anymore, I know how you get.” he lectured with that mother hen tone he always had with you, aizawa was always so caring, so soft. Not to anybody other than you, but that's how you knew him. With his words, you found your lip wobbling, and little tears pooling in your eyes. You didn't know how to tell him anything when he was making that face at you, the pity stare, so you buried your head further into his shoulder and spoke.

“I just- I thought you would get mad at me- I was doing so good last time and I just went back and made it all I jus-” You stammered out, tears now streaming down your cheeks and onto his shirt, around halfway through your voice broke into a sob. You knew that he would have to come some time or another but you hadn't expected your emotions to just flow out entirely like this. Little sobs left your mouth to the point that you couldn't keep speaking, he rubbed circles into your lower back, bouncing up and down a little to calm you, or at least try.

“I would never- NEVER. Baby you can't live like this, I can't let you live like this.” He pulled your head from the nook in his shoulder, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“I know. I just- I just didn't know how to fix it- and I didn't want to make you upset so I just let it- Don't be mad- please” You couldn't even control what you were saying anymore, your words just flew out o your mouth faster than you could think of them.

“It's okay- I’m here now. You won't have to worry anymore okay? I'll make it better, I'll help you get through this. You're alright.” He confirmed, all he wanted to do right now was make you feel okay, as you didn't. He wouldnt leave you alone again, he wouldnt dare. You've never scared him like this, it's never been this bad. Hell take of you, he has to now.

The two of you sat in silence for a few moments, you crying into his shoulder, and him rubbing your back and holding you close. After a minute or two he set you on the ground, keeping a hand on the small of your back to guide you towards the door. You followed blindly, too caught up in your crying to care about where your feet were taking you. You leaned into him naturally, clutching him close.

The trek down the hallway was slow and painstakingly quiet, by the time you reached the stairs he had you in his arms again. You were barefoot, and the last thing he wanted was for you to nick your foot on anything in the carpet, especially when you were so fragile, so frail. He wouldnt let anything hurt you now, not even the carpet.

You were his responsibility now, fully his responsibility. Seeing how you are right now, how unstable, how fragile, he HAS to protect you, he just can't let you hurt like this. Such a sweet girl in such a large amount of pain, it almost makes him angry. Not at you, at the world for doing this to you.

He will protect you now

He has to

"so- um. Ya like jazz?" you let out a sad giggle through your tears, and he smirked. you weren't used to being so serious with him.

---

It took you a very long time to stop your crying, long enough that you had gotten into his car with him, and he began to drive. Where? You had no clue, but you knew he would only mean the best for you. The entire time he was comforting you in the car, when he wasn't sending worried glances he was giving you words of encouragement.

You didn't know what to say anymore, you and Aizawa have been close for quite some time, and naturally as a teacher he cared for you like one of his students, you were close in age, a little bit older than the kids he cared for. He has seen you at your lowest lows… clearly… but you don't think he's ever seen you this bad before, you honestly don't think you've seen yourself this bad before.

All you wanted to do was prove to yourself that you could handle this like an adult, that's why you never called or reached out, you just wanted to feel mature enough to handle your own issues. Without somebody forcing you to handle them.

“I am sorry- I didn't mean to scare you I know it's worse than last time- I can take care of myself I swear, you don't have to do anything” You muttered, bringing your knees up to your chest in the leather seat, usually Aizawa would lecture you if you did this because he always said it was “unsafe”, he didn't say anything this time. Right now you just felt embarrassed, you had just collapsed on him entirely.

“Don't apologize, it isn't your fault. You're gonna be okay, ill make sure.” his words were blunt (as usual, but more comforting than anything else he has ever said to you before, he made it sound more like a promise than a statement. He reached over and placed a hand on your shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze before returning to his normal driving. The atmosphere remained comfortably quiet for a few more moments before you decided to speak again.

“so.. . where are we going?” You asked, hoping it was someplace nice, away from all your responsibilities. you weren't opposed to going to his house, but you knew that if you did, you would cave in even more. Meaning your independence would revert to how it was.

“Home. “

—————————————

I’m back lol. It’s been a while so I hope this was good, I have felt with some mental instability in the past so o tried to use my knowledge from my own personal expierience here, don’t come for me if it doesn’t fit your own.

Tysm for requesting! I’m so excited to start writing again. Love you all! And have a great day!

Bye!

[scientia-rex]

So if I'm saying not all adult-minor interactions are inherently creepy, and in fact the vast majority of them are genuinely platonic, then what should you look for to decide if something is creepy?

"Why would an adult talk to a minor?" is not a slam dunk. You have friends, family, teachers, coaches, mentors, librarians, acquaintances, people who have the opportunity to enrich your life.

But people who want to take advantage of the specific qualities of youth are very real. Many of them are good at hiding it, though not all. Most teens can think of someone overtly creepy--that guy you know because he works at the local Dairy Queen and always gives your friend extra ice cream and has a sword collection. (Real life example, don't come for me.) And you NEED to be cautious around that level of creep. Don't be alone with them, don't let them give you a ride anywhere, don't give them your contact info if you can possibly help it, tell other people in your life that they creep you out. But some of them are a lot less obvious.

Abusers tend to seek out positions where they will have access to minors. Sometimes that's professional--teachers, coaches. Sometimes it's social--church group leaders, Scout troop leaders, or just hanging out with a group of teens despite being older than all of them. If you have a group of 16-17 year old friends and a guy old enough to buy liquor is hanging out with you, it's not because you're all so mature. It's because he's immature. He doesn't know how to have positive, healthy relationships and friendships with people his age. So he's looking for people who have less emotional maturity who hopefully won't notice his deficits.

And when you're a teenager, it's easy to miss that. I missed it! When I was 17 I started dating a guy who was 25. I thought we had this beautiful, star-crossed love. Except, looking back, he was a tier 1 loser. He didn't have anything going for him. He wasn't trying to grow as a person or learn or get better. He was wallowing in his untreated depression and substance use, and fucking a 17-year-old made him briefly feel better about himself. That was not love. It couldn't be. We were at points in our lives that should have been wildly different. We didn't have anything real in common, just sex--because I was, at 17, horny, which is normal and okay! But exploring that with HIM? Big mistake.

"Why would an adult form a romantic relationship with a minor?" Because they're looking for someone they can manipulate into getting everything they want and give nothing back.

The rule of 7 isn't perfect, but it's a decent rule of thumb: take your age, divide by 2, and add 7. That's the youngest you can date without being definitely pretty creepy. So at 40, I could potentially date a 27 year old--but I gotta tell you, even the people I know in their early 30s seem pretty young to me! So your mileage may vary. But if you're 13 and a 20 year old is trying to romance you, get the fuck out of there and tell a trusted adult.

[ange1sang]

a little to the left

2.6k words, gallavich + brief appearance from liam

; canon compliant/post season 11, domestic gallavich, hurt/comfort, trauma, dissociation, vomiting, gentle mickey milkovich

Most days Ian doesn't notice them. The blanks, the disconnect in his mind, the gaps in his memory like potholes in a road filled with oil slick and rainwater. They've been there since his late adolescence, weaving their way into his consciousness and embedding themselves into the membranes that separate his brain from his skull, so that he's used to them. He doesn't have to notice them, not when he can get by just fine without acknowledging them. But that's only on most days. 

Some days the blanks are deep and pitch black, tripping him up or even swallowing him whole. His mind becomes a black hole, everything in disarray and stretched, twisted, deformed until it's all unrecognisable. His childhood is a jumble of scenes from a movie watched on a drunken night, parts of it covered with lumpy, expired Wite-Out and others blotted with blood, smeared and dirty. The confusion makes his head pound and bile rise in his throat. For the longest time he didn't connect the two things. He's been having depressive episodes since he was seventeen, always accompanied by aches and nausea, and it was easy to lump the blanks and gaps in with everything else the depression brought on.

But he's older now, taking medication and watching his routine so that the depression rarely rears its ugly head anymore, yet the days of darkness, confusion and agony persist. They come when he least expects them, when he has a day full of errands to run with his brother or a day he's promised to spend babysitting his niece or nephew. He goes through the motions the way he's taught himself to do on even the hardest days, but it feels like wading through raw sewage in nothing but his boxers, grime and filth splattered against his thighs and clinging to the inside of his nose. He barely survives it, throwing up everything he eats, sometimes before he can reach a toilet bowl, and crawling into his bed deaf to the worried murmurs of his husband. 

It takes him years of survival, white-knuckled and tense-jawed, before it begins to make even a little sense to him. 

"Hey, Ian."

Liam's voice pulls Ian's attention from the comedy rerun he and a sleepy Mickey are watching on the TV. He looks to where his youngest brother is sitting at their kitchen table, school laptop illuminating his face and an old, chewed-up pen in his hand. 

"What's up?" Ian asks, lifting a hand to run his fingers through Mickey's hair. His husband grunts softly, pressing his face down against Ian's shoulder. Liam takes a breath, hesitating before he speaks again.

"You know the club you worked at?" he asks. Ian feels Mickey tense against him, and has to stroke his thumb against his forehead to keep him from cussing at the kid.

"Yeah, what about it?" Ian asks, trying to keep his voice lighthearted. "You aren't thinking of getting a job there, are you?"

"No," Liam says quickly, grimacing at the suggestion. Ian feels something in his chest relax. "I'm writing a paper on CSA for my psych class - you think it'd be okay if I interview you? Interviews get us extra points."

"CSA?" Ian asks, raising an eyebrow. Liam hesitates again, looking sheepish and guilty all of a sudden. 

"Childhood sexual assault," he clarifies after mulling it over for a long minute. The second the words leave his mouth Mickey lifts his head from Ian's shoulder and glares at the teen.

"Write a paper on those fuckin' drooling dogs or something, man," he says, which would be funny if it weren't for how his jaw clenches once the words have left his mouth. "Leave your family outta that shit, we got enough people lookin' at us like social experiments already."

"Right," Liam mumbles, but his eyes don't move from Ian, who feels his face stiffening like concrete. "Okay, sorry."

"Nah, it's fine," Ian whispers, his voice barely audible even though he tried to speak normally. He turns his head away from his brother, back to the TV. The blue light of the screen suddenly takes on a purple tinge, spotlights moving against the inside of Ian's eyelids and illuminating dark, dirty floors soiled with bodily fluids and pills that had been crushed beneath someone's shoe. His veins throb in his arms, skin suddenly too tight for his flesh, like he's waking up with a bad hangover, dry-mouthed and disoriented.

"Ian."

He feels his lips forming a frown on his face but they don't belong to him, invisible fingers pulling down the corners of his lips to turn him into a sad mime. Mickey's hand, warm and rough cups his cheek. He blinks and the dirty floor disappears, replaced with worried blue eyes and dark, furrowed brows.

"Hey. Baby."

"I'm fine," his reply comes, automatic and without thought, before he even thinks the words. Clearly, this does nothing to soothe Mickey, eyes darting around Ian's face. His thumb rubs Ian's temple, stroking the vein that feels like it's about to burst. "I'm... I'm fine."

Mickey draws in a sharp breath, looking like he's ready to scold him, but he doesn't say anything. He shoots Liam a brief but withering look, before leaning in to kiss Ian's forehead. 

"Okay," he mumbles, and slumps back against the sofa, but not without guiding Ian's head to rest against his shoulder. 

Ian's chest is tight and aching, but he's fine. He's totally fine.

When he wakes up the next morning it's to Mickey yelling from the kitchen.

"Ian! You want coffee?"

He stiffens in their bed, his husband's voice sounding foreign. 

"Ian?"

No, it isn't his husband's voice. It's the name. Ian. He squeezes his eyes shut and tries to recall the last time he heard that name, but all his mind can offer are broken, fragmented memories of strangers whispering Curtis or Clayton or Benjamin in his ear, their breath hot against his skin. The familiarity of the names is soothing and torturous all at once, and before he knows what's happening his stomach is squeezing, pushing. He sits up but barely manages to lift his head from his pillow before a stream of weak, beige-green liquid pours from his mouth, puddling on the sheets and dripping down his chin. He stares at the pool of vomit, gears moving in his head like he's looking at an old friend. 

"Hey, man, you want coffee or-"

Mickey's voice stops just as abruptly as his movements, the man standing in the bedroom doorway like a statue. Ian turns his head to look at him, the small movement dizzying, and feels that same squeeze in his stomach. This time he has the foresight to move his hands, catching the little mouthful of hot, caustic stomach acid in his palms. 

"Ian, c'mon, don't do that," Mickey whispers, approaching slowly and taking hold of Ian's wrists. He allows himself to be manoeuvred, watching as the vomit sloshes from his palms and lands on the bed sheets. The name on Mickey's lips makes Ian's skin prickle, and he curls into himself. He's too big for it to really work, but he must have been small enough once. Must have been small enough to fold into himself like an ashen baby bird, all skin and bone and ruffled feathers. He tries to curl into himself further, trying to remember where the instinct comes from, but all he sees is a bottomless pit. Panic curls around his throat like barbed wire. "Come on, you gotta wash your hands. I can help you."

"No, I..." Ian mumbles, his own voice startling him. He stares down at his palms, feeling fabric against his skin. Expensive fabric, yarn woven into fine cotton with 2% spandex, fabric he's never been able to afford, not even on his wedding day, but that he must have touched at some point. Blearily, he looks at Mickey, meets his worried gaze through thick tears that refuse to pour down his cheeks even as he blinks over and over. His breath catches in his throat. "I don't feel right."

"That's okay. I got you," Mickey reassures him. Lips press against his forehead in a sweet kiss. "Come on, babe. It's okay."

Mickey takes his hands, not recoiling or frowning when the still-warm vomit touches his skin. He smiles, soft, small, scared, and helps the redhead stand up. 

"You're fine. I got you," he repeats, and kisses the dense patch of freckles on Ian's shoulder. The touch is familiar, and this time the familiarity is comforting without also being nauseating. He holds on tight to Mickey until their hands are under the running water of their bathroom tap, and as soon as their palms are separated he finds himself leaning into the other man, curling up again, trying to make himself smaller. He can feel Mickey watching him, gauging his condition, taking in his expressions and reaction to every little touch. "You're okay, Ia- baby."

Ian looks up, looks at Mickey's wet lashes when he bites back the name on the tip of his tongue. He doesn't understand why or how, but Mickey always knows what to say and, more importantly, he always knows what not to say. He drags in a deep breath that doesn't really reach his lungs and drops his head so he can hide his face against Mickey's shoulder. Hiding. Even if he can't seem to think of much right now, he knows he's good at hiding.

"Sorry I threw up," he mumbles into Mickey's shoulder, which makes his husband chuckle.

"I've seen you puke before, man," Mickey says. "That fuckin' sushi Debbie made us all eat last year? Playing drinking games with Sandy?"

Ian recognises the memories like the face of a quiet classmate in a yearbook - he can place them in the right environment, but can't picture them doing anything, not even opening their mouth to say 'present' for attendance. He winces, the effort of  trying to pull forth images he knows are there making him dizzy.

"C'mon," Mickey whispers, turning off the tap. "Let's get some breakfast in you. Pepto Bismol with your meds maybe."

"Wait," Ian pleads, not ready to open his eyes and face the world yet. Not when he can't remember his place in it. Again, Mickey takes it in his stride. He pulls Ian into a hug that's firm enough to ground him and gentle enough to remind him that Mickey loves him. The reminder is enough to ease the jelly feeling in his joints just a little, Mickey's thumb moving back and forth against his shoulder blade like it's all he's ever wanted to do, and Ian takes a deep breath. The just-woke-up smell on Mickey, a smell that he knows he's always loved, even if he's never been sure why.

"I love you, man," Mickey murmurs sincerely. Ian relaxes just a little more.

"I love you too."

The day goes by slowly, every bit of it like pulling teeth. He downs his medication and food Mickey gives him even though his stomach twists nervously with each swallow. They watch cartoons on the sofa and Mickey smokes through a pack of cigarettes before dinner, his eyes flicking back and forth between Ian and the TV so often that he must not be getting any of what's on the screen. The vigilance is comforting, a reminder that he really is sitting on their sofa and not just dreaming up the four walls around him, so he doesn't mention it to Mickey. 

By the late afternoon he's falling asleep, tired just from keeping his eyes open and his food down. He lays his head on Mickey's lap, nose pressed into his husband's thigh and shuts his eyes when fingers immediately find their way to his hair, running through his curls and brushing stray hairs from his forehead. 

"You wanna head to the clinic tomorrow, check your meds?" he asks.

"Maybe," is all Ian can muster the energy to say. Mickey hums, thumb rubbing his brow bone.

There's a long pause, long enough that Ian almost falls asleep, before Mickey speaks up again.

"You did good, Ian."

Ian. The name finally sounds familiar again. No bile rises at the sound of it and there's no ache in his chest as he tries to place it. Relief washes over him, icy and overwhelming, and pulls him under. 

The next day he wakes feeling disoriented but not nauseous. His head is on Mickey's chest, his heartbeat steady and reliable where it thumps against his cheek. He takes a deep breath in and lifts a hand to trace a fingertip along the tattoo of his name on his husband's skin, his heart fluttering the same way it used to when they were kids and Mickey would show up at the corner store looking for him. His body feels like his own again, every organ, capillary and freckle back in its rightful place. 

He makes coffee while Mickey sleeps in. He knows after a day like yesterday that Mickey must've been up half the night, watching him sleep as though his next breath might not come, and feels a little guilty at the thought. When he carries two mugs of coffee back to the bedroom and a pack of Oreos pinched between his teeth, Mickey is waiting for him, a smile on his lips.

"Morning, mister," he grumbles, voice sleep-rough in a way that makes Ian giddy. Ian drops the Oreos on the bed and leans in for a kiss, hungry for Mickey's touch more than anything else.

"Good morning," he replies, handing Mickey his mug and settling in next to him.

"You feelin' okay? Wanna hit the clinic after breakfast?" Mickey asks cautiously, watching Ian's expression for any telltale signs that he's hiding something.

"Nah, I'm... I'm okay," Ian mumbles, shrugging. "I don't know what was up yesterday, it was like everything was a few inches to the left or something. I couldn't remember shit."

He looks at Mickey and smiles at the crease between his worried brows. 

"I'm okay now, Mick. Seriously."

Mickey grunts, frowning in a way that lets Ian know he's sorting his thoughts into words that make sense. They're halfway through their coffee before he's ready to speak, but Ian doesn't mind the waiting. He doesn't mind much when it comes to Mickey these days, at least not as much as he claims to.

"Y'know, Svetlana had days like that," he says, slow and unsure. "She'd get pukey and shit, couldn't hold a conversation... It was weird, 'cause she was always so fuckin' headstrong y'know? Seein' you like that..."– Mickey pauses, reaches out to cup Ian's cheek for a moment and rubs his thumb over the freckles on his temple. –"Maybe you should see a shrink, talk about the stuff that happened at the club."

Something clicks in Ian's head at the mention of Svetlana, all of the blanks, disconnects and gaps in his mind making a little more sense now.

"Yeah. Maybe," he sighs, and turns his head to press a kiss to Mickey's palm. "Thanks for not freaking out."

"Anytime," Mickey says with a small, worried smile. Just a couple of years ago Ian would've felt guilty for being the cause of his worry, but he understands it now. They're husbands. They're always going to worry about each other. 

"I love you," he tells Mickey, which earns him one of those shiny-eyed smiles he adores with all his heart. 

"Love you too, Red."

Maybe tomorrow he'll book himself an appointment at the clinic. Today though, all he wants to do is make up for the time he lost yesterday.

[shinoposting]

A comprehensive guide as to why Aburame Shino is peak Autistic Representation

Very long post under the cut!

( This is poorly organized and doesn't actually include everything, but you know :] )

It starts with the flashback to when Torune was taken and flashbacks to early academy days, during which Shino is about 7.

He showed no interest in playing with other children, or in making friends. He didn't see a point in talking to people who didn't want to discuss his special interest, which he dedicated all his free time to, and he didn't emote when Torune was taken away, even though it impacted him very deeply. Even as a small child he talked "like an adult", monotonous, strange phrasing, over-explaining, and too quietly. When he wasn't being ignored by his classmates, they were trying to use him.

Later on when you see him socialize more, in Pre-Teen and Teenage years, more things become apparent.

In general he seems semi-verbal, most of the time silent, and becomes agitated when forced to repeat himself. Konoha Hiden expands on this, saying that he wishes people just knew what he meant and felt without him having to talk, and that he is bonded to Akamaru because he feels that Akamaru is the only one who he can communicate with in that way. When he's upset he isolates and at one point is even seen hitting his head when he was trying to cool down and was interrupted by unwanted social interaction.

He doesn't understand why people need to see his face, and usually doesn't look in the direction of the person he is addressing. He also doesn't understand jokes, rarely laughs, and angrily dissects puns…but then later puns become his entire sense of humor. He's never dressed for the season, either. Aburames tend to be very covered up by default but besides his Part 1 outfit he is always in multiple layers regardless of the season. (Year round trench coats are a huge autistic stereotype.) He gets along better with people outside of his age group, respected by adults and looked up to by younger kids who think he is cool and knowledgeable. Konoha Hiden also states that during this period he was suffering with comorbid Anxiety and Depression.

There's a lot of black and white thinking on display, for example he is anti-alcohol-- obviously he would have been taught not to drink as an Aburame, but he also doesn't like when others drink. He sees it as universally bad. He's a stickler for the rules and often scolds his peers for not following rules and guidelines. He also seems like a bit of a prude even though it is suggested that he himself has a dirty mind (noticing girls' cup sizes and the implications of Road to Ninja treating his Personal Business as a personality trait) which is a funny hypocrisy I have noticed in a lot of autistic people. He holds a hell of a grudge and ruminates endlessly, which is documented at higher rates in autistic people due to rigid thinking.

He is trying to make friends like Torune wanted, and is now aware that not having friends is a bad thing. He starts feeling the pain of being ostracized not only in general but also by his friend group and isn't even sure if he has friends. He is 17 years old before he understands what allistics consider friend status.

We start to see some of his sensory issues pop up too. He is seen wearing sunglasses even at night and while sleeping. He hates any food that smells strongly and his favorites are pretty bland. He pulls a piece of meat out of his mouth, in public, uncharacteristically violating taboo. He was able to identify the number of people in a distant group only by sound at a time when this would have been above his skill level. (Which makes sense. Team 8 is thus Eyes, Ears, Nose. More on this later.) By Boruto, he has added ear protection and stronger eye protection that he wears when he is expecting to be near fluorescent lights or crowds. Suddenly his overall mood is greatly improved and he can smile openly.

He shows signs of hyperempathy in being overly distressed when losing insects, as he has many millions of them, and having an exaggerated physical response to anticipating Sakura and Naruto's despair.

He has chronic bitchy resting face and is extremely blunt to a a degree of being insulting, which makes people assume he is a mean person. He also comes across as pedantic to his peers, when from his perspective he's just didactic, and even though he over-explains everything his peers still have difficulty understanding what he's saying.

He will also randomly connect the topic of discussion to his special interest and begin infodumping about bugs, and isn't aware that people around him are not interested or worse, repulsed by his special interest until told, at which point he feels personally hurt. Generally his interests are very stereotypical of an autistic person: bugs, comics, ecology, strategy, etc.

He seems level-headed and robotically analytical until he reaches a certain threshold when he suddenly over-emotes in dramatic and awkward ways.

You might notice that when his hands aren't in his pockets, he doesn't seem to know what to do with them; they're always balled into fists, which smells of someone who was taught not to stim. Even so, when he gets really excited in Konoha Hiden and is being himself, he starts spinning around. His speech quirk preceding frequent over-explanations (Why? Because... / The reason is because...) is also considered a type of echolalia.

Mentioning Hiden, in the Blank Period we start to see changes associated with the autistic experience of starting to understand that you are awkward, not knowing how to fix it, and all the anxiety that comes with that. He is stuck riding the lag train and is fully ready to become a hermit in the woods.

He isn't understood in the way that he wants to be understood. He can't let himself get comfortable in other people's homes. He uses his trench coat as a barrier between himself and other people, treating it like a security blanket. He still doesn't understand how his choice of attire affects people's perception of him and becomes agitated when he's told it makes him look suspicious. He doesn't appear to be pursuing any intimate relationships, and displays a lack of boundaries when picking Choji up with his insects when he gets excited.

The lag train becomes even more apparent in Boruto. He hasn't found a partner, his friends are growing even further away from him, and possibly worst of all he's seen as more childish-- too grown-up as a kid, too immature as an adult.

He is masking extremely heavily for the sake of his career, mirroring Iruka, removing almost all of his personal identity from his appearance including the parts that made him feel safe-- everything has to be professional. This actually hurts his ability to work with kids because he already knew how to talk to them, but he is now trying to emulate the image of a teacher for the sake of professionalism.

In the classroom he struggles with things I have seen real-life autistic teachers talk about: He works well with the younger kids, they love him and his fun facts, but the older ones can tell that there is something different about him and they will ignore or outright bully him. It's very difficult to control them or hold their interest. (He later develops stomach problems due to stress from working with said older kids)

The big problem is that he is not good at masking. In traditional settings with very clearly defined roles and rules of how to act and what to say he gets by just fine, but in organic interactions it's nothing but spaghetti and this causes him severe stress. He is proud of himself for being able to speak to many people in a day now but at what cost? Pattern recognition and rigid thinking of course leads to rumination spirals, and under extreme pressure he starts reverting to childish things. He has only had Kura-maa a short time before he becomes attached and starts personifying it. This may seem childish, but autistic people are more likely to do this and will continue to do so later into life than their allistic peers. (See Object Personification in Autism: This paper will be very sad if you don’t read it)

He has become a real people-pleaser, allowing himself to be imposed upon constantly, and apologizes excessively even for situations that were not his fault, which are both behaviors many autistic people pick up. And, for all his masking, he can't hide that he is still terrible at understanding and constructing metaphors, ie "bad insects" and the yakisoba bun analogy.

He is trying his damnedest to adapt and accommodate himself in a rapidly changing world that wasn't very friendly to him to begin with. He was able to slide under the radar as respectable and somewhat normal when the world was as rigid as he is. Now every day he's facing new challenges that he isn't used to and he's acting a little fucked up and neurotic, overcompensating and making it worse.

So yeah, maybe he's not 'cool' by most standards. Not everyone gets a happy ending where they become the most ideal version of themselves. Not in real life, and not in animes that have hundreds of characters. What's important is that he is exactly on the trajectory set by previous installments to the series and very accurately and thoroughly depicting autistic struggles in every aspect of life. And that's pretty cool to me. :)

[robertseanleonardthinker]

HOUSE OC MOMENT!!!!!

me making my first oc in years at 1:30 am

name: domingo estrada

age: 25 (january 18th)

race: latino (guatemalan)

gender: female to male. he/him. outside of work, his trans identity is very important to him, but it's something he prefers to not bring up in the workplace.

sexuality: uhh.... yes. he prefers to not label it, as he feels it's very fluid. crushes SUPER easy, though. watch out, if you be nice to him, he'll swoon.

physical apperance: tan skin, hazel eyes, long, brown hair with a slight wave to it. he usually wears his hair in a bun. he is man bun supreme. loves having his hair up. he's post top surgery and has been on testosterone for a couple of years. he's a little below average height and has a fairly average build. he likes wearing soft, comfortable clothes (usually in pastel colors, as those are his favorite). he also usually wears slip in shoes with no laces on account of the psych ward.

role at ppth: social worker on the adolescent unit of the psych ward. he's newly graduated and pursuing licensure (licensed clinical social worker). what his job entails is creating treatment and discharge plans, finding placements for those who need them, coordinating appointments, and assessing patients in the emergency room (those who come in for mental health reasons). he tries to spend as much of his free time on the unit to be there for patients. if needed, he'll sit and talk to a kid for hours.

about: domingo is a laid-back person. he's pleasant to be around. he's usually calm and collected and is good under pressure (great trait for a social worker!) he connects well with the teenagers he works with, easily gaining their trust and allowing them to open up. he's a good listener and tends to remember lots of minute details about people. sometimes he freaks people out with that ("how did you even remember that? i mentioned it once!") he is very passionate about his work and would fight endlessly for his patients. he cares deeply about the teens under his care and works tirelessly to make sure they get what they need.

domingo, though good at his work, also tends to be a bit absent-minded and forgetful. he has adhd and has yet to find a medication that works for him. his phone is full of endless reminders and there's random post-it notes all over his office. if he isn't moving, he feels like he'll explode. something the teens he works with enjoy is that he's always got a fidget and a pack of gum on him. something that helps him the most is using an oral fidget, though he doesn't like to use them in front of his coworkers. outside of his office, he chews gum.... or less preferable, his nails. a habit he's had since childhood.

domingo also has dyslexia. he has learned ways that help him with reading, but still struggles. though he's spent years in therapy working to decrease his shame, it's still something he occasionally feels embarrassment about. he has excellent listening and speaking skills, it's just reading and writing he has a hard time with. he uses a screen reader on his computer most of the time.

backstory: domingo is a twin. him and his sister (teresa) were born to a mother struggling with drug addiction. once she discovered she was pregnant, she tried her best to quit. she was sober for pretty much the entire pregnancy, and a few months after that. however, she fell deep into postpartum depression and turned back to drugs. at first, she hid it. she hid it well. her boyfriend, their father, didn't know until he came home early from work one day and walked in on her popping a pill. he tried to be supportive, but he was so angry at her. he tried his best to help her, but she didn't want it. she was deep into her addiction. one night, he had enough. he gave her an ultimatum. get clean, or he leaves. he gave her a month. she tried her best, not wanting her children to lose their father, but she couldn't do it. addiction had dug its claws too deep into her. she couldn't do it alone. he left her like he said he would. of course, this loss only drove her deeper into her illness.

it wasn't until 4th grade that someone finally realized what was going on in their home. a teacher called cps, but they did nothing. cps would be called over a dozen more times, yet nothing would be done. they remained in that house until they were adults. this is what inspired domingo to pursue social work. social workers had failed him. he didn't want other children to go through that.

his sister also fell into drugs in high school. she spiraled and spiraled for years until she overdosed one night. this was after she graduated. she was supporting herself as best she could. she was taken to the emergency room, where they managed to save her. that was what she needed. she didn't want to be like their mother. she decided to go to rehab, and committed herself fully to recovery. she's had a couple slips along the way, but has gotten fully sober and now lives a wonderful life. she works at a community outreach center as a peer support specialist and advocates for harm reduction.

in the past couple years, his mother finally began getting sober. she committed once more to recovery, and so far, it has stuck. domingo and teresa have a lot of feelings about it. of course, they're proud of her. they're happy to have their mother again. but also... why couldn't she have been there when they were younger? why did it have to be now? that they were both on their own? domingo struggles heavily with this outside of work.

uhh anyways..... that's all for now :3 i'll write more + make him a blog tomorrow.

[dufferpuffer]

No, you are justifying Snape’s actions, you literally said “Severus was absolutely justified to snoop on Remus.”

I understand everything you’re saying, and I don’t think I underestimated the societal biased the text poses. I’m just saying that for even the most ingrained, deep set prejudices, there will be average people who challenge it. Snape had his many reasons to want to dig up dirt on his bullies, and dirt he found. I just don’t think it’s cute to see people justifying instead of condemning the bigoted side of it.

But alas, sometimes every single one of Snape’s action gets distorted into a veiled demonstration of utmost kindness and tolerance.

I’m not at all suggesting if Lupin was ousted as student, he’d be fine because love wins. But just because outrage and revulsion would be the average crowd reaction, doesn’t make it ok.

This can way too easily get mixed with their complicated dynamics in PoA, where yes, a lot (but not all!) of Snape’s unpleasant actions were actually attempts to protect Harry. I’m talking about Snape stalking and planning to oust Remus as a teen.

I don’t find it heroic or justifiable that he’d “snoop on Remus”. If he had sincere concerns about the safety of his peers, he could go to a teacher or the headmaster (he would be disappointed, but it would have been the most direct and earnest way to handle it). Instead, he wanted to use Lupin’s condition to make the point that “they’re not as great as everyone thinks they are”.

Maybe this got out of hand, I do feel like I am stating the obvious: Snape is prejudiced and that is bad. Not everyone is prejudiced even if most people are. We should hold everyone to high standards, not lower it to the average.

As demonstrated by characters much less controversial than Snape, you can be prejudiced and still try to be a good, loving person, like Molly. But she should not be off the hook, and neither should Snape.

“Snape was picking up Lupin’s slack and just dutifully teaching from the curriculum” is also a bit weak, come on. Are we gonna let the man be a petty bitch or what.

From an objective, black-and-white moral viewpoint: Of course Severus is wrong trying to expose Remus. Severus was contextually justified in snooping only in that he believed Remus was a threat… but the belief that Remus was a threat, that he was 'not good' simply because he is a werewolf, is bigoted.

I can condemn the bigotry in that. I LOVE condemning the bigotry in that. My favourite thing is the parallels between Remus' depiction and living with real disability. So much of what he goes through socially and mentally parallel real disabled experience in a way that is shockingly deep for… any media, let alone a children's book series. Being snooped on for your invisible disability, whether that be to find a reason to fire you or make fun of someone walking out a wheelchair... Having laws that don't outright exclude you, but may as well... Feeling like you let people down, especially those who love you, simply for your symptoms... Medicine being degrading and depressing to take - after jumping through hoops to get it… I'm getting off topic.

It's just that the tolerance Severus displays is more notable. I don't blame Ron for treating Remus like an animal. It's bigotry, but what else could he believe in that context? He learns to tolerate and trust. So does Severus. He he tolerates and trusts Remus despite his bigotry and experiences. He has bias against werewolves, hates Lupin - and yet still treats him like a man. Ties him up like a criminal - not kill him like a wolf, even though (based on what he believes is happening) he has every right to. He knows how to. He TAUGHT how to. But he doesn't.

He wanted confirmation Remus was a werewolf when they were kids. He GOT that confirmation, and could have gone public. The marauders were STILL bullying him, doing nothing at all to earn his silence - he could have lashed out, spread rumors and watch society turn on Remus. Yet he didn't. He trusted he wasn't the threat everyone believes werewolves to be.

Not going to the teachers about it was, as I said, petty and irresponsible of him. Teen boy tries to be a big hero, win back his friend, put his bullies in the bin and unmask a monster all by himself… a rather arrogant Scooby-doo plot. Gaining from 'justified' misery, exposing the crooked bully Griffindor Prefect as EVIL when everyone thinks he is great... It's irresponsible for such a serious thing - but there is so much more going on with him than 'he is prejudiced and that is bad.' Like when he took over Lupins class.

I'm not saying he was just innocently and dutifully teaching what the curriculum should have been - you just insinuated he was teaching them how to kill werewolves, as if that isn't plainly written in the textbook. Sirius Black betrayed those who trusted him and killed Lily Evans. Now he is infiltrating the school using secret methods - and his last living friend is wrapping everyone around his hairy little finger like a wolf in sheep's clothing to trust him.

He picked the werewolf section specifically. He taught it intensely, under the guise of them being 'so behind': TWO rolls of parchment, due so soon only Hermione managed it. Not because he was being petty - PoA is probably where he was at his least petty. To him this is an emergency situation, a ticking time bomb nobody else is taking seriously.

+ Petty would have been tampering with Lupin's potion. + Allowing Remus to fuck his own job up by forgetting it... + Refusing to work with him or on his behalf on his bad health days. + It would have been making snide comments about him, likening him to a wolf or asking where he was on the Full Moon. + He could have been making Remus sweat all year. It would have been in character. Instead he has faith in Albus' judgement (while tugging on his sleeve) and lets Remus walk all over him in their verbal fencing. How very odd for Severus to never once snap back...

Yet he doesn't. He tolerates it all, despite Remus never doing a single thing to earn it - and doing everything to earn his scorn.

...

You're saying Snape is wrong for snooping on Remus to out his Lycanthropy to a bigoted society, especially as there are selfish desires behind the action. That despite how difficult it would be to question the bigotry, there are still average people who do - and Snape isn't one of them. He is prejudiced and remains so even in adulthood.

And you are ABSOLUTELY correct. I agree.

I'm saying Snape was contextually justified in most of the actions he took against a perceived (and known) threat. They were not always good actions but they are far more reasonable than most others. He has MORE reasons to be bigoted and yet shows LESS bigotry in his actions than most others.

Snape is a prejudiced person who doesn't try to be good and loving… he just tries to be good. Good enough. He dedicates his entire life to be good. To do the right things, even when he personally disagrees with them, even when its like sandpaper against his skin to put up with. He just doesn't do it lovingly.

That, I think, is the biggest issue people who dislike Snape have. Why they see people saying he did good as trying to distort him, claiming he is kind when he is obviously an asshole: He doesn't always do things well. He almost always has some sort of petty, arrogant prejudice behind his actions. He is a sour, prickly, nasty bitch... but he is still STRIVING to do whats right. Doing the right thing when it is hard, directly in the face of his own biases... that's pretty cool. Remus thinks so too.

"...Severus made the Wolfsbane Potion for me every month, made it perfectly, so that I did not have to suffer as I usually do at the full moon. ...We both know he wanted my job, but he could have wreaked much worse damage on me by tampering with the potion. He kept me healthy. I must be grateful.” “Maybe he didn’t dare mess with the potion with Dumbledore watching him!” said Harry. “You are determined to hate him, Harry,” said Lupin with a faint smile.

[duchessofostergotlands]

Do you think you could be autistic? No hate just wondered as I am too and I relate to a lot of what you say

Oh my anonymous friend, you don't know the can of worms you have opened haha. I am going to ramble here so just be prepared for that.

When I was little my mum did actually think I might be autistic. Predominantly because I played in an unusual way. I would line my toys up on the window sill and my grandmother's display cabinet thing. I would get furious at people if they moved my toys because they all had their own spot. And the only time I touched the toys was to move them from the cabinet (their home) to the window (the school). The rest of the time I would just stand still, stare at the toys, and wiggle my fingers. They called it "zizzing" - now it's called stimming, I guess - and they knew that was a sign of autism so my mum and my grandmother did wonder about it. But I had two things going against me: I was a girl and I was born in the early 90s. This was during the peak of the idea autism was the "extreme male brain." It was seen as being predominantly a male diagnosis. You probably know that. And there wasn't much understanding so our reference point would be people like our family friend who always looked at the ground, was obsessed with trains, had limited speech and would scream if anyone tried to touch him. Whereas while my family were still thinking about the autism thing I started school and I was academically strong, I had a small group of close friends and at the time - because of the gender disparity - girls only really got diagnosed with autism if they had some kind of very obvious speech delay, they weren't doing well at school, they had no social connections with their peers at all etc. So basically everyone just forgot about it. I got called a drama queen a lot, that was it.

Fast forward to my teens and my mental health was really bad. It got worse at university because I didn't have the routine and structure of school, I didn't have my mum cooking and buying food etc. I was diagnosed initially with depression and anxiety. After a while it was clear that wasn't right so after much fighting I got a diagnosis for Borderline Personality Disorder. Now you may know this but there is an overlap in BPD and autism symptoms and women are often misdiagnosed with BPD later in life because as children their autism wasn't picked up (because diagnostic criteria is still geared towards how it presents in boys and psychologists and psychiatrists don't always delve into motivations and thought processes). I found that out in my mid 20s but thought "nah I probably don't have it, I don't have special interests and I don't struggle with x, y and z." However, my mum became really interested in BPD after I was diagnosed and did loads of research, listened to podcasts on it. And she told she was listening to one podcast where someone was diagnosed with BPD but then they discovered it was actually autism. My mum said to me that the way she described herself in childhood was exactly how I behaved, as if I'd been the one speaking. And so that got me thinking and that's where I have been stuck over the last few years. I debate with myself constantly what's going on in my brain and I truly don't know. I regularly have epiphanies where I think "oh that thing I've done all my life is incredibly autistic." But then I think maybe it's actually BPD. And I just go round and round.

I identify as neurodivergent, regardless of what diagnosis I have. Some neurodivergence paradigms do recognise severe mental illnesses like BPD anyway, but I've realised that if you put aside the BPD I still have chronic problems with ordinary tasks and situations. And I used to think it was just because I was young but I'm 31, almost 32, and it isn't normal to take 3 months to make one phone call because you just can't make yourself do it! Most people don't find it this hard to take basic care of themselves.

[everythingwasnormalhere]

Stan Marsh headcanons?

first i love my main au stan because he's so !! and because he goes thru lots of changes as he grows up,,

Tw for alcoholism, depression, s/h, attempted sewerslide, hospitalization...its stan what did you expect

Most popular stan hc ever: he's an alcoholic. But like,,, till he's like, 12-13, he only drinks in the mornings so it helps him get through the day, like antidepressants but bad 💀

When he's 12-13 some people his age start drinking for fun, and so he sees it's socially ok so he starts doing it too

Yeah everything is way less shitty in the moment, but when he's sober it's even worse than before. Oops

Well anyway his friends don't really notice he's doing this, sure they're kinda concerned when they hang out and he's getting drunk, but yk,, typical Stan it's not that bad

This is an obvious one but he's depressed asf

And btw. All sp kids have gotten something misdiagnosed in their lives, like this is canon the medical system in that town sucks

So Stan has anxiety, but it was misdiagnosed as asthma (haha not me projecting)

He didn't get it diagnosed right until he was in his teens

But he doesn't have it anymore

He also has insomnia and BPD

The amount of times he's split on Kyle is insane

Anyway about his depression !!

It remained undiagnosed for a Long while

It got better and worse and better and worse and yeah you get it

On the worst episodes he would spend weeks not getting out of bed

At the beginning he'd say he's sick but at some point he gave up and stopped with excuses

His friends (Kyle mostly) would check on him but he wouldn't really talk to them much (on another episode of: stan giving up on life!)

Also he would spend time with the goth kids sometimes, mainly when he was at the worst points

The goths were kinda pissed he would leave them every time he felt better, but Stan's kinda their adopted kid lmao they have a soft spot for him<3

Welp anyway he starts s/h-ing at 11-12

At first it's not really noticeable but soon it gets worse

He covers it with wristbands but eventually the wristbands don't cover it all

And so, after his parents find out, at 13 he goes to the psych ward for the 1st time

It's only for a couple weeks, but it gets him to get so much worse

Nobody at school knows what he was doing for those weeks, besides Kyle because Stan went to him first thing after he got let out

Kyle is Worried. btw.

He gets hospitalized 2 more times after that

Once at 15 after he attempts

And another at 16, after a huge ass breakdown in which he asked his parents to take him there because he was scared of what he'd do otherwise

People in town only know about the one of when he was 15 (it was big news)

Besides Kyle and Kenny, Kyle because Stan tells him every time and Kenny because,,,he's Kenny he just Knows

After the 2nd hospitalization, he starts taking actual antidepressants

They don't do That Much but they still work better than nothing

Short after the 3rd time he goes to the psych ward, he finally manages to stop s/h

And slowly he stops covering his scars, as they're a reminder of how he's healing :)

Since he's 14, he starts bleaching his hair every few months

Now it's closer to straw than to hair but whatever issok

It's also incredibly greasy, so much it's insane

When it's really really bad he wears a dark blue beanie with some pins of obscure bands and some his friends gave him

His clothes are mostly black, and the ones that aren't are still alt

He wears eyeshadow all the time

And his parents don't allow him to get tattoos so he and his friends draw on himself instead

He's still in Crimson Dawn, he's the main singer and guitarist :)

His guitar is red and he takes so much care of it

The same can't be said about its case, that thing's fucked up

He's also the one who writes most songs, it's become kind of a coping mechanism for him<3

They're not famous, but they're not completely unknown either - they've played in some cities besides South Park, and they have a bunch of listeners on Spotify

They're the kind of band that almost nobody knows but the ones who do are the most loyal fans ever

"wHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU DON'T KNOW CD??? You gotta listen to them Right Now"

By the way Stan is late to every practice

The days when he's not arrived at least 10 minutes late are almost non-existent

Same for school

At school his worst subject is definitely math

(He probably has dyscalculia but he doesn't have it diagnosed)

He likes music best obviously

He's also pretty good at history and English

Btw he has a musicals phase for a year or two

His favorites are the historical ones, like Hamilton and Les Miserables

His family life isn't the best

He stays at Tedrigri farms on weekends, the rest of the time he spends it at his mother's

Shelly's kinda physically abusive still, but not as much as when they were kids

Btw he fucking hates staying at Tedigri so most nights he cycles to Kyle's or Kenny's instead

Fun fact he has a scar on his side from when he was 13

The m4 were jumping a fence to get to this one abandoned house (Butters was grounded)

And when it was Stan's turn he got cut with the fence and fell

That scar is huge and he's super insecure about it

Another fun fact he plays Brawl Stars

His favorite brawlers are Brock and Kit

And in general also the ones with attacks like Shelly's and Bull's

He's bisexual :) and ultimately broke up with Wendy when he was 16

(one of the things that triggered that huge breakdown btw)

He also had so many gender crisis, finally he decided he's just non-binary (he/him) because everything else was way too confusing

Aaaand i think that's it? Tell me what you think :D

[spade-of-storms]

All about AYAKA!

Aka Allen (my Yuu OC) and Deuce's future Shiba Inu! ♡♥︎♡

Once Allen and Deuce move into their own house, they end up adopting a dog. And knowing how much I love lore and parallels, yes, you guessed it: said dog is a metaphor for what would've happened if Deuce and Allen had known each other in middle school.

A quick summary before we start:

Allen loves Shiba Inus and they're one of the few things his teen self finds comfort in. Deuce is well aware of this and not only gifts Allen Shiba plushies, but also secretly does research on what the breed is like (and on how to raise dogs in general) in case Allen wants to have one once they officially move in together.

But now about Ayaka herself as well as the lore...

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Multiple years have passed since the graduation, and Deuce and Allen are not only engaged and about to get married, but also live together in an own house.

Deuce had been following a nearby Shiba Inu breeder on social media for some time now because he knew that Allen still secretly wanted one, and when it turned out that one of the new puppies was "neither a boy nor a girl", nobody wanted the dog. After all the other puppies were already rehomed, this one still wasn't. It wasn't able to produce puppies itself in the future, and many people considered an intersex dog to be "too much of a challenge".

Deuce originally didn't want to impulsively buy a dog without talking it out with Allen first, but hearing the puppy's story and knowing that it would likely end up at an animal shelter one day simply because it was intersex broke Deuce's heart and reminded him of Allen.

Allen had been bullied due to his "confusing" appearance (a result of being intersex) and gender all his life prior to coming to Twisted Wonderland, and it peaked in middle school — a time when Allen and Deuce obviously didn't know each other yet. The bullying, along with a couple other things, had ruined Allen... and even though Deuce was fully aware that he couldn't have helped simply due to them being in different worlds at the time, he still felt bad about the fact that there had never been a person to defend Allen from the bullies, to prevent Allen from becoming depressed, to give Allen confidence and love...

It had already happened to Allen. It had to be prevented for this poor puppy. The little Shiba had to be saved from a sad life in an animal shelter, and instead, it had to be given love and warmth from the very beginning...

Deuce spontaneously bought the dog, promising to protect it and give it the most loving home there could be, and surprised Allen with it... who broke down in tears of joy.

That's how sweet little Ayaka became a member of the Spade family.

MORE FACTS:

Ayaka is a Mameshiba.

Ayaka's name & gender were assigned to her by the breeder, who thought she was a typical female dog until the first check at the vet.

Ayaka often wears a little ribbon.

Ayaka is very obedient, loving, smart and cautious.

Ayaka had just reached adulthood when Milo (Allen & Deuce's son) was born.

Ayaka's lifespan is tied to Milo's through a ritual. Allen has a major fear of losing those closest to him — including Ayaka — and wanted to ensure that she lives much longer than the average dog.

Another reason for this: Milo and Ayaka are an inseparable duo and best friends. They don't want to spend a day without each other.

Ayaka sometimes floats because of Milo's powers.

[bugflies00]

au crimeboys make me so so insane

it's not dadbur per say, even though wilbur does get custody of tommy and raise him, but tommy doesn't see him as his dad.

if anything, for a long time tommy didn't understand what a dad (or any parent) was supposed to do, because for him that was what wilbur did. so people would be like "dont you have a mum and dad?" he'd be like "no i have a wilbur" not because he sees wilbur as a dad but because wilbur is . wilbur. yknow? like his own category that's impossible to define by """normal""" family standards. wilbur is all of tommy's family at once, because he's all he's got, and he's his brother and his dad and his best friend.

because wilbur raised him, put him to sleep, put bandaids on his knees when he fell, taught him how to read and write and tie his shoelaces and not to chew with his mouth open and how to ride a bike and picked him up from school and went to parent teacher meetings.

but wilbur's also his brother, they're constantly roughhousing and punching each other and tommy's always trying to steal his stuff and get on his nerves and wilbur's always trying to get tommy a babysitter so he can go party and get drunk without his lame little brother.

but also wilbur is like. the most certain constant of tommy's life. i mean he was just two when they were put into foster care, he doesn't remember his parents, definitely not the social workers or foster parents who cycled every couple months, and he didn't make any true long-term friends until tubbo when he was about 9 or 10. so wilbur is like. the only person he's always known and will always know and that he's never doubted will be here forever. he's the first person he remembers!!!!

and so obviously tommy is absolutely ride or die for wilbur, even though he'd never admit it because he remains tommyinnit. they're also very codependent as you can guess.

tommy's really clingy but so is wilbur, and they kinda have a shift in their dynamic where like. when wilbur was a teen and tommy was 10-11, wilbur was trying to push him away for a while because yknow he was going through it (it being depression addiction the whole deal) and lashing out while tommy was trying to cling on. but then when they're a bit older, wilbur is the one who clings onto tommy because he's terrified he'll leave him too, especially when the prospect of tommy going away to college starts profiling itself.

that's something that wilbur takes a loooooong time to accept, because for a while he was flat out forbidding tommy from going off to college anyway further than a half hour ride. which is obviously. not very healthy. eventually he accepts but he completely motherhens the whole time to the point where tommy has to be like "im literally 18 ill be fine im not leaving forever" but wilbur still has a hard time the whole period tommy's away.

and anyway tommy doesn't cope well with it either, he had this whole idea of going off to college to try something new and make new friends, but once he's there he hates it. he realises it that he hasn't actually made friends since tubbo when he was 9 (he met ranboo through tubbo), because having his two best friends and his brother was always enough for him. and so he's completely alone with all these people he doesn't know how to talk to, and he starts spiralling and his grades start dropping, and he has the whole thing with dream. so eventually tommy does come back home because really he's just as clingy and he couldn't stand being away like that.

eventually when they're older they grow into something that's less... desperate i want to say? obviously they still love each other so much but they're able to hang out and spend time together in a way that doesn't feel like. "if im separated from you for more than two days i will literally die because i've been relying on you and defining myself around you my entire life" yknow?

it's a very complicated situation because they care so so so much about each other and would both kill and die for the other, but they've also hurt each other a lot. wilbur especially lashed out a lot when he was a teenager, and tommy often felt like it was his fault they couldn't stay in a good house for long, because he was too loud and rambuctious etc. there's also a whole bit with their last foster home that i want to explore but that is its own post

there's also an element of like. tommy feels guilty that wilbur had to put his whole life on pause to take care of him but wilbur doesn't see it that way. one day when they're having a really messy and bad argument he shouts something along the lines of not wanting the responsibility of tommy in the first place, which is something tommy takes a looooooooong time to heal from, and it's not even true. not just because he loves tommy, but because if it wasn't for that responsibility he doesn't think he would be alive. not in a metaphorical sense, as in very concretely, 12 to 20 yr old wilbur was in a daily mantra of "you can't kill yourself tommy is relying on you." and then it became "you can't kill yourself tommy and fundy are relying on you." and wilbur doesn't want to share that with tommy because in general he tries his best to never tell him anything dark like that (which on one hand yeah your 15 yr old brother isn't your therapist but on the other hand Do You Understand How Emotional Communication Works no he doesn't lmao) . but in the end he does end up telling him when he understands that tommy feels so guilty about him taking care of him and it's a very . important conversation in their lives . They cry a lot 👍

[jjsanguine]

Rules: list 10 of your comfort shows and then tag 10 people

Tagged by @bengiyo . I actually don't rewatch shows very often, or at least not the same ones every time, but here's some shows I've watched a lot of in no particular order.

Alien Biospheres. This is a YouTube series but I've watched it a lot. If you watched James Cameron's Avatar and don't care about the plot but would watch a documentary on how they designed the creatures + plants this is the webseries for you. If you like spec bio then I would also recommend Serina.

Cherry Magic. I write songs for fun and my life is too boring to be great inspiration, so most of them reference scenarios in shows I'm watching that I find funny or just stick with me for some reason. Kurosawa's personality inspired one of my best ones.

Coffee Prince. This got me into kdrama + so much of it still holds up. Like, remember how homophobic the 2000s were? That's a feat.

The King's Affection. This is like the best girl disguises as a guy kdrama since Coffee Prince, and I watched a lot of them before I figure out I was nonbinary. I was glued to my seat. My writing project @the-prince-is-not-a-woman was partially inspired by me watching this so many times.

Mortel. It's like this show was made for me. Vodun, found family, polyamorus subtext, mystery, despising someone but having noone else to turn to, trauma, comedy, banger music. It was made by Netflix though, so of course it was cancelled on a cliffhanger.

Power Rangers 2017. This film is objectively goofy but I love it so much. Billy was the first explicitly autistic character I think I saw ever, and he set my expectations for canonically autistic characters high.

Extraordinary Attorney Woo. Apart from being a good show, Attorney Woo is the only other character on my list of canonically autistic characters that I like, which is funny because both attorney Woo and Billy were played by allistic actors.

The Path. I enjoyed seasons 1 & 2 but I've rewatched season 3 many times for my baby Caleb. I talked about a pastor's son and he's like the perfect example. If the show hadn't tragically been cancelled I would have loved to see what they did with his character, because after leaving his family for his boyfriend and by extension his boyfriend's daddy's apocalypse adjacent cult (which is a positive if you can believe it) socially speaking he was essentially in the same position he started off in, minus worrying about homophobia. He could have blossomed or spiralled, who knows. That's quality side character creation. This show also inspired the list "cheating on your girlfriend with your wife" which has to be the best of my lists of niche tropes.

Triage: time travel and time loop stories can so easily swerve into being terrible when there isn't enough thought put into the time travel mechanic but when they're good they're really good.

Shelter 2007: so many of the queer films I watched as a teenager were depressing, I could have given up on ql entirely if I didn't watch this heartwarming film.

Honourable mentions:

Be My Favourite. It finished airing literally 2 months ago so it really hasn't had time to gain the status of old reliable but yeah. I've watched episode 1 probably 10 times at this point, because I would pore over the whole show waiting for the next episode. I was writing essays.

Nowhere Boys: I love forced proximity + conspirationality. It's one of the reasons I love Mortel. It's a quality teen drama.

Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug & Chat Noir, aka Miraculous Ladybug. This show is my Riverdale. It's ridiculous and I don't recommend it and I can't watch the english dub because I'd cringe too much so I watch it in French, but I started watching when I was like 15 so I'm locked in forever. It keeps dragging me back.

Going to try my hand at actually tagging people so,,,

@anotherlovr @writerwithoutsound @dudeyuri @irritablebovinesyndrome @gillianthecat @threezoz @sparklyeyedhimbo @respectthepetty @one-ghogh@heretherebedork

[zhoras-bitch]

My Playchoices MCs #11

There's been a lot of Bloodbound on my dash lately and it made me want to shake off the dust from my BB headcanons. This Evita, my precious little ball of depression and existential dread. If you know who I named her after, you get a cookie. Also, yes, I stole her middle name from @gaiuskamilah. Headcanons under the cut.

First | Previous | Next | All

Was almost a literature major, but went into communications instead after her parents vetoed the idea with, ‘You’ll never get a job with that degree!’ 

She does like social sciences, but her real passion is stuffy old books (affectionate). Specifically, she is partial to deep, dark, sometimes surreal and maybe a little tedious works. I can see her reading Dostoevsky, Camus, Unamuno etc.

Besides Spanish and English, can speak decent French and Portuguese.

Went back here to add that she's a trans woman after this headcanon has completely taken over my brain.

Evita's Bloodkeeper abilities began to manifest when she was very young, way before her transition and before she even knew she was trans. The visions started caming to her in the form of dreams, and seeing how bloody and cruel vampire history is, those dreams were often pretty fucked up. So Evita was a perpetually tired and kind of jumpy kid and teen. Thankfully, she didn't remember most of those dreams back then.

Evita grew up in a Catholic family, so the existence of vampires and their whole lore were hard for her to reconcile. By the end of book 3, she's not even sure what she believes in anymore.

Doesn’t like lying and is kind of bad at it.

Her wardrobe is kind of dull. Evita's style is business casual, with no bright colours or flashy patterns. She wears a lot of black and even more button-up shirts.

Prefers tea to coffee.

Very much asexual, cannot determine whether her feelings are romantic or platonic to save her life.

She had a… relationship with Lily where they were toeing the line between friends and lovers for years. And then Lily died before they could figure it out.

Yeah, the series finale is not really a happy ending for her. Post book 3 Evita is a total wreck. She's going through a crisis of faith, her best friend is dead, and without her, Evita feels like the last thread that connected her to her humanity is gone.

On the bright side, Adrian promotes her to be the representative of Raines Corps. internationally (yay?). Evita uses the opportunity to travel around Europe and other parts of the world. For a while, I think she distances herself from Adrian, Kamilah and Jax. She needs the time to just reflect.

During that time, she finds purpose in seeking out newly turned and just lone vampires and helping them navigate their new life. If there's s risk they might turn Feral, she gives them her own brand, a lily. She didn't plan to rule over them or anything, but over the years she kind of naturally starts being referred to as the leader of her own clan.

Gaius and she have a... relationship. They meet when Evita is traveling in Europe sometime after the finale. And they find themselves in a similar place psychologically: struggling to understand who the fuck they even are and what they are supposed to do with their lives. Like with Lily, it's all on the verge of romantic and platonic (that's a theme with Evita). And with their long ass vampire lifespans, it probably takes them decades to figure it out.

[somecunttookmyurl]

Hope this is okay to ask, don't feel pressure to answer if you don't have the spoons

I'm currently seeking an ADHD diagnosis as an adult, and took the Wender Utah rating scale from my GP. For the ADHD associated questions I scored 77/100 and it's felt like a slap in the face after having so many people say I don't have ADHD.

I've been wondering how it could be possible to have such a high correlation of ADHD symptoms and not have it picked up until my late 20's, is masking something that can happen subconsciously with ADHD? If so do you have any advice or tips for noticing when I am masking?

I will be continuing with therapy (wait times are vile!) And want to try medication once I'm diagnosed, but any advice in the mean time would be incredible.

Thank you for taking the time to read this, really hope you are well

i wasn't diagnosed until i was 28.

it's really common for it to go unnoticed in childhood (when you have the structure of school and most of your needs met by family) if you still get all your schoolwork done on time - albeit at the last minute. you're just "very intelligent if you tried harder" and "a bit weird" and "a daydreamer" and "lazy"

and then in your late teens/early 20s you don't have your days planned out for you by other people anymore and nobody is cooking your meals or reminding you to do laundry and you realise you have fuck all social skills and your life falls apart and you get diagnosed with anxiety. or depression. or borderline personality disorder.

but not adhd because only kids get that and if you were struggling as a child someone would have noticed, right?

....right?

and when it goes undiagnosed for so long and there's just a vague nebulous feeling something is Wrong With You you do start to mask. a lot of people develop anxiety to cover up adhd*. you're always late because you lose track of time so now you're obsessively early to everything, for example. becoming really quiet and afraid to talk because you don't know when to STOP talking if you start. etc etc

lying or inventing plausible excuses for why you didn't do x or forgot y because "i don't know" is not an acceptable answer even though you REALLY don't know.

idk how to tell you how to pick up on it. you just sort of.. do, i guess? after a while?

*i didn't i'm just late to stuff fuck all y'all

[babygirlphil]

omg that's so amazing that you're interested in psychology and have that kind of experience! Do you think therapy is just not fit for some people? Because I've gone to a few sessions before for my ed and it just didn't work I feel like I wasn't fully honest and the process kind of exhausted me whilst also making it feel like it didn't help because I think I could "guess" her "strategy" to make me say certain things and I just didn't like it. It's a me problem for sure. But recently I've been struggling a lot with depression which naturally causes my ed to also worsen I've been thinking about what to do and idk if I should try again it's so expensive and maybe therapy just isn't for me yk? I would really appreciate your insight

Hi! Sorry for the late reply. I wanted to make sure to give you a measured response.

I do believe that therapy is for everyone, but there are several variables that make finding the right therapist tricky.

Finding a good therapist is like finding a good friend. You aren't going to connect with every therapist you see, just like you aren't going to connect with every person you talk to. A good therapist will take the time to build rapport with their client and will never try to force them to open up before they're ready. You should feel at ease with them. If you don't, it's probably a sign that they're not right for you. I know it's frustrating, time-consuming and costly to have to go through several different therapists to find the right fit, but I think that it's worth it if you have the time and resources (that's a big If though).

There are also many different types of therapy. It's hard to know which ones will work for you until you try them. Most therapists will use a combination of them. Many of them specialise in a specific type. It might be helpful to research the most common ones so you have an idea of what you're looking for.

If you feel that the therapist's methods aren't working for you, you can say that! Any therapist worth their salt knows that therapy is individual and will tailor their treatment plan to you. However, you do have to go into it with an open mind. If you go into it with the mindset that it's not going to work for you, then it won't. Finding the right therapist and type of therapy isn't enough. Even a great therapist will not be able to help a client who is not willing or ready to put in the work. If you don't think you have the energy to do that, then I would hold off on starting therapy again.

Without getting too personal, I have a lot of experience with the behavioral healthcare system as a client too, so I know how exhausting the process can be! I was in therapy for nearly a decade and went through many different therapists before I found someone who was able to help me. Even then, it can take months or even years to see any significant change. If you're looking for a quicker treatment for your depression, I would consider medication instead. Then maybe you can start therapy again once you're more stable.

Obviously, there are other barriers to therapy. Insurance is one of the biggest ones. There also aren't enough therapists to meet demand. That's why predatory companies like Betterhelp exist.

It can also be hard for LGBTQ people (especially the T) and POC to find a therapist who will understand their struggle. I worked with a transmasc teen who had several bad experiences with transphobic counselors before coming to me. I know there's a popular idea in leftist spaces that therapy is a capitalist tool that is designed to turn people into productive workers, and that is true to some extent. However, many therapists do not like the system either. Most therapists understand that a person's environment has a big impact on their mental health (we even have a term for it: social determinants of health).

This has gotten way too long lol. In conclusion, I would say that you should keep trying different therapists and different therapies until you find one that works for you. If you're concerned about the cost, then i would try to find a therapist who will charge you on a sliding scale. There are other options than just individual therapy though. If you're comfortable with it, you could maybe consider an intensive outpatient program (group therapy). It might help you to have supportive peers who are going through the same things you are. There are also peer support specialists at most behavioral health agencies that can help you to feel more understood.

[shorti11]

OK, SO FIRST CREEPYPASTA OC, SHES STILL A LITTLE IN THE WORKS BUT SHES KINDA CUTEE (TW FOR MENTIONS OF ABUSE, EATING DISORDERS)

Full name: Kami Smith. Age: 21. Species: human. Pronouns: she/her. Gender: female. Height, 5'3. Personality: very quiet to most people, to certain people she's bubbly and sweet but can easily get emotional. Fav color: black and dark blue. Birthday: February 14th. Hair color: dark blue and black. Eye color: dark brown/black. Style: mcbling/2000s bimbo. Powers/weapon: though kami isn't strong, she's very fast, using daggers to kill her target. Fav food: Alfredo pasta. Nationality: Canadian. Fav song: Take a slice by glass animals and lovers rock by TV girl. Strengths:art (she us heavily into singing), speed (kami use to be a runner, doing track and often winning since she was little) and a makeshift therapist (she before becoming would take care of others and help with their problems) Weakness: strength, Kami grew up into more of the arts and wasn't really athletic, any sports she may have played was for fun or gym class.

CONNWCTIONS: Liu Woods: At first her and liu are pretty cold to each other, but after a while, Kamo tries to gain his trust after finding interest in his scars. After a while, they end up very close

Sally: Kami acts motherly to sally (im my AU sallys mother wasnt very pressant) and  close too her

Lizari: also acts motherly to lizari though lizari refused the love more then sally who needed and craved it

Jeff: she isn't sure on how too feel on him, after lius story she found him to be pretty disgusting

Tim: likes to vent and talk to tim, finds comfort in his unoften kindness, both get alog decently well

Brian: they both draw together and are friends though aren't crazy close

E.j: they don't talk often but don't dislike each other

Ben: finds him a little annoying but doesn't dislike him, they don't talk often

Nina: very pushy on kami but meant well, ended up friends over fashion sense

Clockwork: Kami is scared of her rough personality but thinks she's very admirable

Toby: helps him with cooking, and has too check in with him every so often

Slenderman: Kami and him barley speak but she found comfort in him. Though he won't speak to anyone

Basic knowledge on kami:

How long as a proxy, was brought there and became one at 18 she's currently 21

Disorders, anorexia nervosa (between 13 too 17)

Depression (it isn't severe but can fluctuat)

Generalized anxiety disorder (she constantly is nervous and it causes her chest pain)

Ptsd (from past abuse)

Social abilities: Kami isn't very social and often would keep to herself. If someone came up to her she'd be polite but awkward.

Why she stayed with lucas: Kami's family and Lucas's were very close during high school and college, also both families wealthy and strict. Both families wanted an arranged marriage and forced it upon the two. Throughout Kamis' younger years, she didn't like it but didn't know better, it was basically brainwashing her into thinking it was the norm

Her job as a proxy is to gather and stalk people for slenderman and gather info to help him.

Lucas personality:he was a rebellious teen, the smoking, partying kind of kid, bad grades rude, and had horrible anger issues

Backstory(wip), Kami was 13, a sweet girl who never loved her appearance. "I'm too big", "I hate my face", is what she'd often think, she was hopeless and desperate to look pretty, and that had caused an eating disorder from 13 to 17. Kamis parents weren't the best, always trying to make her the best of the best, good grades though she'd average Bs, And it was her parents faults on why she was so insecure. It was 6pm, Kami was at the dinner table and looking around. She was dolled up by her mother, a boy would be coming over, his name was Lucas, a year older then her. "Your gonna act like a proper women" her mother said sternly as she went to go to the front door. Lucas and his family came in moments later, all sitting at the table. Her mother greeting them and they started to eat. Soon after finishing the dinner her and Lucas were sat on the couch. "Kami, Lucas

... we'd like you too to start dating, " Lucas's mother said softly, a kind woman kami thought. After figuring out that she was now forced into a relationship, a boy she barely knew was dreadful, but she expected better than what she got. Through out being 13-15 Lucas would insult her, make her act like a slave for him when he came over, but when they got a little older 16-18 he had abused her, often verble but when he got drunk it'd be physical with her. One day, she was in his room, pouring him a drink while he ate at his desk while playing games. She watched him and would try to get his attention at points, but he'd shut her down with a harsh or nasty yell. Something in her snapped once she tried to talk to him one more time, but her smashed a cup on her head. She took the glass and everything went blank for her as she killed him, in sweat and tears. She had come back to reality minutes later and screamed, looking at the blood on her hands. She took her phone and weapon(glass shard) and rushed off to the woods around 8 pm in the winter. After an hour of exploring the adrenaline and fear wore off, as she fell down, the blood loss made her pass out. She thought that it, but she looked up at her head and hit the ground. She saw a lean tall figure, then passing out, hours later she had woke up, finding herself in a bed, her head bandaged as she looked around it was an empty room. A man had come to the room he was all stitched up and looked around 22. He stayed distant but walked into the room. "How's your head?" he asked. "I have a headache, but that's all," she stated, looking up at him, "i figured.." he ended up giving her painkillers. The man had multiple crosses around his neck and a black and white scarf. "Thanks.." she took the pills and sat up a little more."Who are you?" He seemed to ponder for a moment till speaking."liu, yours?"Kami.." OK, SO THATS WHAT WE HAVE RIGHT NOW, ID LOVE IDEAS OR QUESTIONS ON EVERYTHING AND MY AU FOR THEM!! (IM NO WRITER SO ANY FEEDBACK ID LOVE💕💕)