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melanielocke · 3 years ago

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Lost in the Shadows - Chapter 22

AO3

Taglist: @nott-the-best @foxglove-airmid @alastair-esfandiyar-carstairs1 @justanormaldemon @styxdrawings @ipromiseiwillwrite @a-dream-dirty-and-bruised

@alastair-appreciation-month

Previous Chapter: Chapter 21

Next Chapter: Chapter 23

Songs mentioned or quoted are Atlas, Rise by Metallica and Red Cold River by Breaking Benjamin

‘What about the opening above us?’ Cordelia asked. ‘If the water level rises enough, we can escape. I can cut through the bars with cortana.’

‘Are you sure it’s not just another magic barrier cortana won’t help us with?’

The water reached Cordelia’s neck now, and soon she wouldn’t be able to stand in it. The rising of the water level was becoming faster and faster. There was probably a puzzle down there somewhere, but it was too dark underwater, and quite possibly too late. The only way out was up.

‘No I’m not, but unless you think of anything else, it’s the best we’ve got.’

The water rose higher and Cordelia could no longer reach the floor. She was thankful that Lucie had taken her swimming in the past days and she knew how to keep her head above the water. Alastair was struggling a bit more with the change in level.

‘Make sure to keep your head above the water,’ Cordelia said, clutching cortana with both hands.

‘Genius, Cordelia,’ Alastair bit back. ‘Whatever would I do without your advice? It would never have occurred to me to keep my head above the water.’

Cordelia took his sarcasm as a good sign. Drowning people couldn’t speak. It wasn’t like in the movies where people yelled and waved.

When the water level was high enough to reach the bars, she started hacking at them. Parts of the bars fell beside her into the water. One hit her shoulder. She yelped in pain, but she could still move it. Nothing broken. It would probably bruise, but that was all.

She continued hacking at the bars until she was sure the opening was big enough, and turned cortana back into her necklace so she would have her hands free. The water had stopped rising about a foot beneath the surface. She grabbed what remained of the bars and pulled herself up, climbing out of the hole. When she was out, she extended her hand to Alastair and helped pull him out. Strands of his hair had gotten wet, but he’d gone a pretty good job at keeping his head above the water. The rest of him was soaked to the bone. As was Cordelia, including most of her hair. She was shivering and the air was cold as ever in the land in between. She felt like she would never get warm again. Alastair was shivering too, his arms wrapped around his body.

‘Do you have any idea how to get back to the ruins?’ Cordelia asked.

They were in the middle of the woods.

‘I just need to align directions underground with directions here. Give me a moment.’

Alastair sat down, and closed his eyes, going through his memory to navigate. Cordelia had never considered the use of his ability for navigation, but without it she would never have found her way through the maze.

‘Alright, I’ve got it. We have to go that way.’

Cordelia followed her brother quietly, until he stopped, holding his hand out to stop her from moving forward.

‘Do you hear that?’

Cordelia frowned, tried to focus on her hearing. Nothing. ‘Hear what?’

‘The siren’s song. Grace is here and we don’t have her skin yet. If we come any closer, we’ll be under her spell.’

Focused, Cordelia could make out something that sounded like singing, but it could just as easily be the wind. Alastair’s hearing had always been a bit sharper than hers. Sounds were often much louder when she was in his memory, and he tended to avoid loud noises. Except for his favorite music, which for some reason tended to be very loud.

‘So we have to get the key back to the dungeon with Grace’ skin and avoid hearing the song,’ Cordelia concluded. ‘How do we do that?’

Alastair took his phone out of his pocket. Even with careful use of the flashlight it still had a decent battery, whereas Cordelia’s phone was almost dead. He then took out a pair of unusually clean earbuds, and handed them to her, while at the same thing doing something with his phone, his long fingers carefully moving over the display.

Cordelia stared at the earbuds but didn’t do anything with them.

‘I cleaned them yesterday and haven’t used them since.’

‘I know they’re clean. But I don’t think this is enough to block out Grace’ voice. They’re not exactly noise cancelling headphones.’

Alastair used to have those at home, but they’d broken. Much later Alastair had told her Father had broken them while he was drunk. Cordelia wasn’t sure if it had been on purpose, but she knew it must have hurt. Alastair had an odd attachment to his belongings and was extremely careful with everything he owned, something everyone in the family knew about. Something Father knew. Cordelia wasn’t completely sure if their father broke things on purpose or by accident when he was drunk, but it was never father’s belongings that mysteriously broke.

‘It’s not, but it would be with some music on.’

Cordelia put the buds in her ears and Alastair put on a playlist on his phone. She realized he’d been making a playlist for her, probably with the loudest songs he could think of. Noise filled her ears, and Cordelia thought if she put the volume any louder she’d get hearing damage. How Alastair could listen to this, she had no idea.

She could see Alastair’s lips move, but couldn’t make out what she was saying. She pulled out one earbud.

‘What?’

‘You couldn’t hear me.’

‘No, not over that horrible noise you call music.’

‘Excuse me, that is Atlas Rise by Metallica. It’s a very good song.’

‘It’s just loud drums and guitars,’ Cordelia protested.

‘But it works,’ Alastair said. ‘If you couldn’t hear me, you won’t hear her song. I’ll wait here, I only have one pair of earbuds and if she controls me I’ll probably be a danger to you.’

‘What if the entrance is also flooded?’ Cordelia asked. ‘I mean, I can swim, but I don’t think your phone will survive that.’

‘It won’t,’ Alastair agreed. ‘And if you’re really unlucky you might get yourself electrocuted.’

‘I think that only happens when a charging phone falls into the water,’ Cordelia said. ‘But no amount of rice will be able to resurrect your phone if I take it into the water.’

‘So if you have to go into the water, try to just put down the phone somewhere I can find it later, and be quick about it. I think down there you won’t hear Grace either, we could only hear Thomas when he was shouting into the entrance. And if you end up losing or breaking my phone… Well, it was old anyway.’

It was very unlike Alastair to be alright with her losing or breaking his things, but she guessed he understood this was an emergency.

‘Don’t die, Layla,’ he said. ‘You get that skin.’

Cordelia put the earbuds back in, and she wondered why Alastair liked this so much. She broke into a run, she could see the ruins from here. She could see Tatiana and Grace, walking toward the ruins, and toward Lucie and Thomas. She had to get there first.

She couldn’t hear anything but Alastair’s music, and she had to admit it was working. This probably blocked out Grace better than Taylor Swift did. There’s not a thing I cannot make you do, Grace had said. But her magic didn’t work if Cordelia couldn’t hear her.

Die as you suffer in vain, own all the grief and the pain

Cordelia began to get an idea why Alastair was drawn to music like this, even if she couldn’t understand why he found it so soothing. He usually couldn’t stand loud noises and he used to wear his noise cancelling headphones whenever their mother was using the vacuum cleaner because he found it too loud.

By the time Cordelia reached the ruins, Tatiana and Grace had already reached Lucie and Thomas. There was a woman with them, a woman who greatly resembled Tatiana. Cordelia hid behind a tree, it was better if Tatiana didn’t see her until she could make a run for the skin.

The unfamiliar woman looked at Tatiana, distraught, and said something to her. Cordelia couldn’t hear a thing over Alastair’s music. Tatiana sneered something at the woman. Did they know each other? Cordelia didn’t think they were on good terms. Tatiana turned to Grace and said something to her. Grace rolled her eyes before responding. Tatiana muttered something before turning her attention back to the other woman, who said something that clearly distraught Tatiana.

Cordelia couldn’t hear a thing though. I can’t feel anything at all, this love has led me to the end, was all she heard, mixed with try to find a reason to live. Alastair’s music really was angsty.

The woman appeared gentle, caring even towards Tatiana, but Tatiana accepted none of her kindness, instead yelling something at her.

‘If you did, if you were really a mother, you’d understand I’d do anything for my son.’ She yelled loud enough that Cordelia could make out her words.

Tatiana was distracted, and Cordelia took her chance. She sprinted towards the trap door.

‘Stop her!’ Tatiana yelled, and she saw Thomas and Lucie come for her from the corner of her eye.

Cordelia was faster though. She reached the trap door, and realized the hall was indeed flooded. She removed the earbuds and dropped Alastair’s phone. She would buy him a new one if it broke, she decided. Hopefully she could find the money somewhere. Hopefully it wasn’t broken. She dived into the water, and underneath Grace’s voice was too distorted, too far away. She felt a hand around her ankle, grabbing her. The hand was big and firm, Thomas? Cordelia struggled against the grip, kicking back with her free foot. She hit someone’s chest, several times until the person had no choice but to let go.

Cordelia swum into the deep. She could barely see anything and realized there was no air in here. If she didn’t get to the skin before she was out of breath she was doomed. She would drown in here.

Her lungs began to burn for air, but Cordelia gripped the key tightly, and pushed it into where the door had been. The magic barrier lifted and the key broke just like all the other keys she’d found. It made no sense, but that didn’t matter. She could enter. Cordelia swum through, and grabbed the skin. Now to get back up. She turned around, and desperately swam up. She could see the light, and that’s where she needed to go. She gasped for air as soon as she was up, and now she could finally hear Grace’ singing. It was the most beautiful sound she’d ever heard, certainly more beautiful than Alastair’s music.

Cordelia would do anything for her, but there was nothing Grace asked for right now. Cordelia climbed out of the trap hole, holding the skin in front of her. She would do anything for the siren, and she knew there was nothing Grace wanted more then the skin Cordelia was holding.

‘Grace! I have brought you what you asked for.’

Grace turned to look at her, and noticed the skin. She stopped singing.

‘What are you doing?’ Tatiana yelled.

Grace ran to Cordelia, and took hold of her skin, draping it around her shoulders like a cloak. Here she would be unable to turn into a seal, or at the very least it would be unpractical, but she was in control again.

‘You cannot control me anymore, Tatiana,’ Grace said.

Tatiana looked scared. She hesitated for a moment, but before Grace could do anything to stop her, Tatiana disappeared into a cloud of darkness. When had she learnt such magic? It must have been part of the deal she’d made with the thief of souls.

Lucie and Thomas broke free of the spell, and a few moments later Alastair appeared from behind the trees, still soaked to the bone and teeth clattering.

‘I came as soon as I heard she stopped singing. Is no one hurt?’

‘What happened to you?’ Thomas asked. ‘I saw the place flood, was there another exit?’

‘The key was a trap,’ Alastair said. ‘The room locked us in and then flooded, but there was a barred opening at the top. Cordelia cut through it with cortana so we could get out.’

‘How were you immune to my song?’ Grace asked Cordelia. ‘I kept trying to get you to stop. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you didn’t listen. But I don’t understand how you did it.’

Cordelia grinned. ‘I couldn’t hear you. My brother’s music taste is loud and heavy and I was listening to some music on his phone.’

Alastair looked around and picked up his phone and earbuds from next to the trap door. Cordelia desperately hoped she hadn’t broken anything.

Grace nodded. ‘I presume that is the modern version of putting wax in one’s ears.’

‘You will be returning to the sea, I guess?’ Cordelia asked.

‘As soon as I can. I’m glad to see the witch unlocked some of her potential. And I suspected that strange memory ability would be useful in navigating the puzzles to my skin. The rules of this land say there must be a solution to the puzzle, so Tatiana just made it as complicated as she could in the time she had. Be glad she’s been so busy, or it would have been twice as big.’

‘I think that was plenty,’ Alastair said.

‘But you solved it.’

‘Now that you’re free, can you tell us what Tatiana is up to?’

‘I cannot tell you everything, because I do not know all she is up to. I know her main goal is to resurrect Jesse, I know it cost her much to bring back his ghost and it will cost more to bring him to life. She has been an assassin of sorts for the thief of souls, collecting souls he deems interesting. My help made that a lot easier, she forced me to use my powers to make people kill themselves. I know eventually Thomas will die if she is not stopped, to replace Jesse, but only once he lives.’

‘Is there any way to help both Thomas and Jesse?’ Lucie asked.

‘Not unless you destroy the thief of souls himself,’ Grace said.

‘What is he, exactly?’ Lucie asked.

‘From what I’ve heard, he was once a mortal man who sought eternal life. He found a gateway to another realm where he could live forever and gather power through collecting souls. It’s not where the dead are supposed to go, but he takes them. Once he could draw people in at will, it depends on how strong the seal is. Now he only gets them when he makes deals with humans in exchanges for souls he finds interesting. I think it makes a difference if the soul is offered by someone closely connected to them, because he likes to ask for family members, loved ones. I think that when you offer a soul not related by blood, you have to kill them, but when you offer a soul related by blood, the thief can use the connection to find them himself. I’m not sure if that makes sense, but that’s why he needed Tatiana to be an assassin whereas he killed Jesse himself.

He can give magic away. Magic similar to what Lucie can do, that’s why Tatiana can see Jesse, and why she allowed me to see Jesse, so I could help her watch him. But his magic can also create sickness, cause people to disappear, the kind of thing Tatiana’s father did to his rivals. He doesn’t usually reach into our world without a blood connection, that’s why he can’t just kill at random.’

‘He created my sickness, didn’t he?’ Thomas asked.

‘I think it is not uncommon for those promised to him to develop a sickness,’ Grace said. ‘What happened to you and Jesse is a bit less common, I think, because he waited so long to collect. I think it’s because he suspected Tatiana could become useful to him, and he wanted to see just how far she’d go for him when he was sick. As for you, I think there was much he could learn about your family as well by keeping you sick. It was a good way to weigh which boy would to choose. Which soul would be more valuable, but also whose parents might deal with him. It became obvious Tatiana would go very far for her child with no care for who else got hurt, and so he chose Jesse. Because he knew she would do everything to bring him back.’

‘Just like you thought,’ Thomas said to Alastair.

‘Souls are the price of his game,’ Alastair said and Cordelia could tell he was thinking of something, but couldn’t tell what.

‘But they don’t know about me?’ Lucie asked.

‘Not yet,’ Grace said. ‘But it’s only a matter of time until they find out.’

‘Do you know why the thief of souls collects souls?’ Alastair asked. ‘Do they have a use for him?’

‘I think the more souls he collects, the more powerful he becomes,’ Grace said. ‘I’m not sure why it matters who. Of course, there will always be souls more interesting than others. I think the four or you would be more interesting than a hundred boring average people. And the connection to the people who offer the souls matter too. I think he draws power from bonds of family, or love.’

‘But how much love can there be if you’re willing to sacrifice someone for power,’ Alastair wondered.

Cordelia had to agree, if someone was willing to sacrifice a relative or a spouse for power, they couldn’t love them very much, could they? But perhaps it wasn’t so much about love as it was about the connection. Besides, love lay close to hate, much closer than people thought. Cordelia had learnt that indifference was the real opposite of love.

‘I wouldn’t know,’ Grace said. ‘The thief of souls only takes humans. My kind doesn’t have souls. Instead, when we die we turn into sea foam.’

That sounded rather horrifying. Wasn’t that what happened in the original little mermaid?

‘Do all mermaids, or selkies, know about this?’ Cordelia asked. ‘Or did you find out from Tatiana?’

‘We know stories, rumors,’ Grace said. ‘But with Tatiana I realized it was real. Even if she never told me anything, I learnt plenty by being around her.’

‘How long were you with her, exactly?’ Thomas asked.

‘Three years,’ Grace said. ‘She often pretended I was her daughter, and made me do the work the thief of souls asked of her. I haven’t been to the sea in all this time.’

‘And your skin was here for three years?’ Cordelia asked.

‘No, she only did that when she came here,’ Grace said. ‘Before, she kept it with her, but here she suspected you might steal it if you found out what it was. She didn’t realize I could still escape when she hadn’t given me specific instructions.’

‘If the thief of souls can do all these things, why does he not take over our world, kill at random?’ Alastair asked.

‘As I said, he needs a blood connection to operate in our world, and the promises form humans he works with. According to Tatiana, he has been sealed away by a witch a long time ago. But here’s where it gets interesting. Apparently, somewhere in the Victorian era he’d grown so powerful he could leave his realm, kill people without a deal. He had a daughter too at that time. A witch called Theresa Gray. She was the one who sealed him away. I think, considering how old he is, it must have been done before, but I don’t know how or when. The seal will break again, although I have no idea how long that will take.’

Lucie frowned. ‘Theresa Gray, that’s my mother’s name. Well, she usually goes by Tessa.’

Grace stared at Lucie. ‘I heard the thief speak of her. He never expected her betrayal, and couldn’t defeat her or stop her from sealing him. But he could take her memory. Weakened from the battle, she fell asleep in the land in between and only woke up a 130 years later with false memories of her childhood in time she woke up in. He took her power away while she slept, since she was in the land in between he could still do that. He does not believe she is a threat to him anymore, and thinks that with enough interesting or powerful souls, he’ll break free for good.’

‘Meaning this woman would live in the modern age, with no idea who she was?’ Alastair asked. ‘Lucie, it could really be your mother. The timeline adds up. And if she was the thief’s daughter, that would explain your why your power is so connected to his.’

‘Everyone in my mother’s family died,’ Lucie mused, ‘All when my mother was very young. My only family are on the Herondale side. It could be her. And although she doesn’t have the sight, it was very easy for my father to get her to see and believe, something that has always surprised him. But then she would have been the same witch Jessamine knew. Wouldn’t Jessamine have recognized her?’

‘I don’t know, it has been a very long time and Jessamine didn’t know her that well,’ Cordelia said. ‘Could easily be that Jessamine forgot her face.’

‘I could talk to your mother,’ Alastair said. ‘See if I can restore her memory. If she lived a different life than she remembers, the real memories are still there somewhere.’

‘Have you done anything like that before?’ Lucie asked.

‘Not as extreme as an entire life someone forgot,’ Alastair said. ‘But I have restored missing memories, yes. Most of the time, there isn’t much of a point to it though. Not everyone wants to remember.’

Cordelia knew what Alastair was talking about. It was something he’d told her about not long ago, after learning about their father’s alcoholism. He’d tried to restore their father’s memories from when he was too drunk to remember, hoping that if he knew how much he was hurting Alastair, he would stop. Nothing had changed though.

‘What is Tatiana planning next?’ Alastair asked Grace. ‘How much time do we have left?’

‘She didn’t tell me,’ Grace said. ‘She comes here to communicate with him, I think that was her intention today. But she wants you out of the way too. Ultimately, Thomas must die so Jesse can live, but I think she will try to kill all of you when she can, especially when she find out what Lucie can do. The thief lost track of witches, and they’re very uncommon nowadays.’

‘Are all witches his children?’ Lucie asked.

‘I’m not sure,’ Grace said. ‘In his current state, he would be unable to leave his realm and have a child, but he used to be able to. I don’t think he’d try again if he could though, not after his daughter turned on him. But they could be descendants, generations away. I’m not sure how the magic inherits.’

Some of the stones shifted, the ruins became a little more like a castle.

‘I think we need to get out of here,’ Cordelia said.

She was still soaking wet, as was Alastair, and getting colder. She longed for a hot shower and some clean clothes. Lucie opened a separate gateway for Grace, and they walked into the light that brought them back to the forest.

Lucie stared into the distance for a moment. ‘She’s become transparent again. Show yourself, Barbara.’

The woman Cordelia had seen before appeared. Who was she? Another ghost, but somehow Lucie had pulled her back into this world.

‘You’ve taken a soul away from him,’ Grace said. ‘You really are powerful. But he’s going to be very mad.’

‘What else was I supposed to do? I’m not sending her back,’ Lucie said crossly.

‘Fine with me, but you should know what you’re doing,’ Grace said. ‘You’re making a powerful enemy.’

‘He was always my enemy,’ Lucie said determinedly.

Cordelia feared what would happen though. Would the thief of souls realize how powerful Lucie was? Would he come for her, out of fear that Lucie would finish what Tessa had started?

Grace nodded. ‘Alright then. I will be going my own way. I need to return to the sea. Perhaps you can come visit me some day on the Isle of Skye.’

Grace then walked into the woods, and disappeared. Did she intend to walk all the way to the coast? Cordelia wanted to call after her, but she was long gone.

#Cordelia Carstairs #Alastair Carstairs #Lucie Herondale #Thomas Lightwood #Grace Blackthorn #Thomastair #Lucelia #fanfiction #the last hours #tlh

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bonsaisheep · 3 years ago

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So someone was asking about some of the coping mechanisms I have manged to develop. I will admit this is probably going to be biased towards corporate jobs since I bounced around a lot as a teenager/in college before figuring out my shit.

So the most basic one is make sure you don’t hate your job/find it boring. This may mean doing something less traditional. In my case, this is one of the reasons I am an engineer, it allows me to have a job where I use my brain and am engaged at work.

It is important to use whatever coping mechanisms you already have developed (like medication).

Similarly, make sure you are not hungry/tiered/thirsty/cold or generally uncomfortable. I know for me all of that makes my ADHD worse.

Meal prep or anything that simplifies lunch is your friend (like sandwiches)

For arriving on time, try to have the time you leave by include a buffer. I aim to be at work 15 minutes early, and have some time to have breakfast/take a moment before starting work. (I never actually have 15 minutes)

I don’t do this personally, but I know someone who sets a series of alarms to get out of the door on time. So like, he has his alarm to wake up, but he also has one for stuff like getting dressed or getting out the door. (helps with time blindness)

Keep a list of tasks/asks. Any time I get asked to do something, I write it down on the legal pad I take to all meetings/is on me most of the time. (If you need something more viable, you can use sticky notes on your monitor/laptop, the important part is to give yourself something you can reference so you don’t have to actually remember anything)

relatedly, ask for clarification on asks if you did not write down details/are not sure of them.

Out of sight is out of mind. I keep my list on my desk, similarly I keep important stuff I need to remember out (this means anything from sticky note reminders, important samples to my fidget cube).

White boards are your friend. They can be used to track so many useful things.

Try to figure out what styles of organization work for you. Systems that are complicated with multiple steps are less likely to be followed. (Paperless systems help a lot, if only because you can usually search them)

Check you calendar first thing in the morning and before you leave work to see what meetings you have that day/if there are any meetings first thing in the morning. Also, just check you calendar when it occurs to you.

Try to get to meeting five minutes early, and either chat with people or like, check emails or whatever. Time blindness fucks with everything and it is easy to go to having a few minutes to being late or missing a meeting.

First thing in the morning go through emails to help with any backlogs.

Leave notification on

Try to address emails/messages/what have you when you see them, or if you don’t have the time mark them as unread.

Music and headphones are your friend. Music helps with focus, and generally blocking out noise helps with distraction. (As someone who can’t remember to charge headphones, I recommend noise isolating over noise canceling. (Noise isolating would be either headphones that fit over your ear, or ear buds).

Losing focus is not the end of the world, I find it more useful to focus on returning to the task I am working on.

If you cannot focuses on the task you are trying to do, do something else. It could be another task, checking on some system or just checking emails.

Similarly for tasks that you know are going to be hard to focus on, try to break them up if possible. (I have problems with focusing on data entry for too long, so when possible, I try to do things like input my data from the day in the evening, or otherwise spread it out over multiple days if possible).

If you are at a desk most of the time, find reasons to stretch your legs. Get coffee, go talk to a coworker about a thing, do a task that requires you to get up for a bit, whatever.

Breaks are important for everyone, but particularly if you have ADHD. If you are inclined to forget or hyper focus, set alarms.

Bring fidgets to meetings. When I was working in the manufacturing sector, I would use more subtle fidgets like bracelets. IDK if it switching to working in tech or covid, but these days I just use my fidget cubes.

If your workplace allows it, consider something like an exercise ball. I used one at my last job, and on a whole most people assumed I was doing it for my health/posture.

TLDR: Write down all asks and use fidgets.

#ADHD

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bookwyrminspiration · 4 years ago

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Sokeefitz with a kid on the ASD spectrum. The four of them would be the s w e e t e s t

nonsie I don’t think you understand the absolute euphoria I experienced when I saw this ask, so I kinda went off— (oops but no ones surprised)

The kid has sensory issues with light, which is kinda an issue when you live in a society that literally revolves around light

Keefe buys all kinds of sunglasses for them, and he worked with Dex to design special curtains that block out the sun really well but still matched their room (someone please get me some hnnng sun hurts)

They absolutely love music and it’s one of their favorite stims to listen to songs on repeat

But elven music just doesn’t quite hit right, it doesn’t have those deep bass tones and pounding rhythms that send shivers down your spine and make you move

So when Sophie introduced them to human music, they were so ecstatic and they started to jump around because ooo this is how music should feel

But they need to be careful because if they move to quickly and too fast they’ll get dizzy and need to sit down

Fitz asked Dex to make them headphones that were noise cancelling (because oof noise be icky sometimes)

Their imparter now connects to the human internet so they can find their own songs, and they really enjoy bass boosted, slowed, and reverbed songs—also 8D audio because they work better with their mind

The texture of mallowmelt is a big no for the kid—basically soggy cake and it made them nauseous—so Fitz spent weeks perfecting a cookie recipe that has the taste of mallowmelt with none of the texture so they could enjoy it

Keefe is really good at talking them through their emotions and the family had a system to determine what their kid is trying to say

When the kid says something they think sounds rude, condescending, etc, they ask what their words mean and it gives them an opportunity to communicate openly with each other, because the majority of the time the kid isn’t mad or anything, they’re just speaking differently that neurotypicals and don’t even realize

Their kid often asks them “what does your face mean” because to them it just looks like an exaggerated cartoon and they can’t decipher much from it, and Sophie, Keefe, and Fitz are always very patient and tell them plainly what they’re thinking/feeling

When they have a meltdown they find it really hard to breathe and their eyes can’t focus on anything, so they have a designated room in the house for meltdowns so they have a quiet, low stimulating environment to collect themself in without accidentally hurting themself

Their favorite stim toys are the ones that move smoothly—like the quiet, well oiled ones ahh they’re so satisfying—and Fitz always has a few on him whenever they go anywhere just in case the ones the kid decided to bring don’t work or they loose focus

Oh and visual stim wise they love the way Linh plays with water—it’s all about that fluidity babeyyyyy

They have this whistle stim too mostly, subconscious at this point. They randomly just whistle like two notes—like the Twitter notification kinda—and sometimes one of them or their friends (idk why but I feel like Tam) just parrot it back to them and then they just whistle at each other for a bit

but mostly I really appreciate how none of them would hold it against their kid or try to make them mask and teach them to hide their traits. It’s just this is their autistic kid and they love them wholeheartedly

If I don’t stop now I’m not going to stop ever my mind is buzzing with ideas and I love this so much

what if they also had adhd

nonsie I seriously cannot stop

if you send me another ask I will guaranteed go off again just so you know /g

you are welcome to do so btw /g

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writtenbynath · 4 years ago

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The henchman

Because we couldn't really play at Charmed, I wrote about a scene we might have had. If you like this story and want to see more, please consider supporting me on Patreon.

With a click of the lock, he let us into his hotel room. As he walked into the room to turn on the lights and close the curtains, I pushed her up against the wall to kiss her. She answered enthusiastically by groping my breasts and ass through my dress. She was delicious in every way, her full lips, her hands all over me, the happy giggle that came with every move I made to press her against the wall and grind against her. Then I noticed him standing in the middle of the room looking at us.

"You don't mind, do you?" I grinned at him and she giggled.

He smiled warmly. "As wonderful as you two are to watch, we did have a plan I'm eager to get to." He walked over to the closet and started to take out the things we would need for our plan.

With a nod and a smile, I backed away so she could walk into the room. "There will be time for me to ravish you later…"

She kicked off her shoes, went over to the bed and laid down to give us space to make preparations. I leaned against the wall for a moment, just staring at her, I had never told her this, but she reminded me of that girl I knew back in college. The reason I knew for certain that I am bi, despite all the erasure and preconceptions life threw at me. Sure, I like guys, I like people well enough and I think beauty is more than just skin deep. But oh my… She was my type. She was the prettiest, cutest woman I had ever laid hands on.

I took a deep breath and turned to watch him start to take off his clothes and get ready to put on the latex bodysuit. A bottle of lube stood ready to help him. For a moment, I was overcome by how he had welcomed me into this whole situation, I felt so honoured that he wanted to do this with me, that he had cast me in this role. When I first met him, I had admired how suave and debonair he was from afar, looking up at him as an accomplished kinkster, much moreso than I. And now, here I was…

I turned to look in the mirror beside the closet. "Do I need to change?" I asked.

"I wouldn't mind... if you want…." She giggled as she lay on her chest, showing off her cleavage and wiggling her bare feet up in the air. She was shy to flirt with me, but I appreciated the effort.

He glanced at me as he was putting on the latex. "I really like the dress. Maybe lose the fluffy shrug and put your hair up to make it more stern?"

"Good thinking." I hung the shrug on the coat rack by the door and got a hairtie out of my handbag to put my hair up into a tight bun.

"You should both know that I'm actually a terrible wimp who doesn't want to hurt anyone." I said as I did my hair. "I'm going to rely heavily on you to let me know that you're still enjoying what we're doing, or I won't dare to go on." I turned to give him a meaningful look as I referenced something we had previously done together. "You know how I move forward very carefully and look for signs that you want to keep going."

He nodded as he carefully pulled his arms through the tight latex sleeves. "And you know that I will find ways to signal 'green' to you."

"I probably can't even hide how much I'm enjoying the struggle." She supported her head with her hands as she lay on the bed. "The meaner you are, the more I'll like it." She blushed and hid her face in her hands.

I cleared my throat. "I also want you both to know that any suggestions or triggers I give you will only last until this scene ends and we leave the room again. This is a fantasy."

She nodded at me. "Of course."

"No worries." He managed to smile at me again, even though he was busy pulling the suit up around his shoulders and making sure the elbows were in the right place.

I excused myself to go to the bathroom and touch up my makeup. When I returned looking all smooth and pale again, she was helping him close the zipper of the bodysuit. He was all glistening blackness now with his strong shoulders and his V-shaped body. He put on the hood with the shiny gasmask and asked in a muffled voice: "Where do you want me?"

I moved in to embrace him and grab his ass, running my hands over the slick surface of the suit. "I want you right here." I moaned playfully.

She gasped, watching us with excited eyes as she sat back down on the bed.

He stood up straight as I groped him, trying to remain still, but I could feel a bulge starting to grow under the suit against my hip. I took pleasure in that for a moment, but I realised that they were both being so quiet because they were ready to begin. It was my move now.

I looked around the room for things I could use and I noticed the mirror on the wall next to the closet. I let go of him, stepped aside and slapped him on the ass with a playful grin. "Get the chair and place it facing the mirror. I want you to sit there looking at yourself."

He did exactly as I asked, his movements stiff and slow, but I couldn't tell whether that was because he was getting into character or because the suit was restrictive. When he sat down, I leaned against the closet so he could probably see me from the corner of his eyes, while he was looking ahead into the mirror. Truth be told, I couldn't see his face under the shiny black mask at all, but he had assured me previously that his vision was great in this mask.

"As you look at the drone in front of you…" I found my softer, deeper hypnotist voice as I started to build the fantasy. "I want you to imagine the brainwashing facility, where there are rows upon rows of faceless drones like this. Sitting still while the gas that flows through the masks subdues them into an open, suggestible state. So that the recording that plays through the headphones they're wearing can blank their minds, take away their will and mold them into mindless, obedient drones."

I glanced at her as she sat on the bed, watching and listening, quietly but visibly excited by the scene I was describing. And perhaps by the sound of my voice too.

"I want you to remember how you sat there in that facility," I continued to him. "So still and warm, encased in shiny slickness. Inhaling the gas with every breath. Feeling yourself become more and more mindless and obedient with every word that reverberates in your empty head. Resistance is futile. None of the other drones have managed it, so why would you be able to? The gas makes you compliant, that's just how it works on a hormonal level in your body, no matter how much willpower you might have had when this all began. You don't remember how long ago. Your will is gone now. You are just a drone in my army, obedient to me. Brainwashed to help me subdue and recruit more people. And every order you obey just emphasises how mindless and compliant you are."

I watched him sit there for a moment, the image of long rows of identical shiny, black suits lingering on my mind as well. I couldn't resist running my fingers over the smooth black surface again, so I touched his shoulder. And then I forcefully grabbed the back of his neck.

"Drone six. Get up." I commanded him as I stood behind the chair.

He immediately stood up from the chair, his back straight, his shiny mask blank.

"Put the chair in the corner." I ordered, pointing.

There was a pronounced robotic quality to his movements as he lifted up the chair and walked towards the door of the hotel room to set it down there.

"And lock the door, drone." The cold, commanding tone in my voice contrasted with the way I casually walked over to the other side of the room. I locked eyes with her, still sitting on the bed. "So she can't escape."

She gasped. It was her move now. She looked at me, standing near the window, and then at him, blocking the door with the chair and locking it with a loud click. She glanced at the bathroom door, probably wondering if she could reach it and hide in there.

"Seize her!" I commanded.

The drone spun around and launched towards her, catching her just as she reached the edge of the bed. The struggle was violent but quick. He pinned her arms behind her back and held them there with one hand, holding her tightly around the waist with the other arm.

I stepped into the open space at the foot of the bed and beckoned him. "Bring her here."

His footsteps stomped on the carpet as he pushed her towards me. She squirmed weakly in his grip, making delicious high-pitched noises. As she got closer to me, she lowered her head to look down at her feet. He was much taller and he just lifted her up with every other heavy step, as he brought her towards me.

I stepped in and grasped her by the neck and chin to lift her head up. "Look at me."

Her eyes were large and full of doubt. Did she want to look at me? The memory of being hypnotised by staring into my eyes in a previous encounter was still fresh in her mind. Or was she afraid to look at me? Afraid that I would take away her will and her mind and make her into a mindless drone as well? She bit her lip and I could feel her swallow under my hand.

I remembered how she hand assured me that meaner would be better. And I noticed how the drone nodded at me and pushed her forward into my grip. So I gripped her chin more firmly, letting some of my fingers squeeze the soft skin of her throat. "You cannot escape." I let my voice drop to a whisper. "You could struggle, in theory. But that would only take time. I will overpower your mind, just like my drone has overpowered you physically. In a direct battle of your will against mine, you know that you're losing. Losing control. Losing the will to fight me…"

There was a change in her eyes. They could no longer focus on me, and the eyelids with the sparkly makeup started to droop. Her lips parted with an inaudible gasp.

"So you surrender." I concluded as I pulled her head down until it flopped forward and her eyes closed. I felt a rush of power; I was in control.

As she slumped in his arms, the drone shifted on his feet, but somehow despite the glossy black mask I could tell that was not just about shifting her weight in his arms. He was enjoying this too.

I leaned in, my lips brushing against her cheek as I whispered in her ear. "You are helpless against my power. And I just want to toy with you right now. Even when you wake up in a moment, you'll find that you're so open to my suggestions, everything I say becomes real to you. You can squirm and struggle and feel ashamed that your helplessness is turning you on, and all of that. But you are my plaything now." I kissed her cheek. She smelled so delicious that I trailed little kisses to her lips and I gently cupped her jaw to give her a long, hot kiss.

Even though her eyes were closed and her mind was open, she was such a wonderful kisser. Her lips moved, her tongue touched mine and she moaned softly. When I finally retreated, she lifted up her face towards me wit a moan full of yearning.

I gave my henchman a mischievous look to let him know something was coming. And then I aimed carefully and slapped her on the cheek. "Wake up!"

He braced accordingly and held her tightly so she could hardly jolt and stumble from the shock. She did however squeal delightfully, and she gave me a priceless look of shock.

"There you are, my plaything." I chuckled and lazily reclined on the bed.

"Let me go!" She struggled in his arms and he didn't even move an inch. The mask was blank and emotionless but in the crotch of the suit I could spy that bulge that told me he was happy.

I smiled benevolently. "You want him to release you?"

She strained and tried to wiggle out of his grip. "Yes!"

With a nonchalant gesture, I snapped my fingers. "Release her. And stand to attention."

Immediately, he let her go. He took one step away from her as she hugged herself, and then he put his hands behind his back and raised his chin up as if he were looking at the ceiling fan above the bed.

She stood there for a moment, stretching after being held so tightly for so long.

"You're not sure what to do now, are you my plaything?" I noticed how my voice turned into an amused sing-song, and I leaned into that. "Are you confused?"

"I eh…" She looked around the room, as if looking for answers. "I guess…" Her eyes rested on the drone in the shiny black suit and it gave me an idea.

"Do you recognise him?" I asked as I scooted towards the edge of the bed. "He used to be your lover before he became my mindless drone."

He flinched. It was hard to tell what it meant exactly, but his breathing became more visible, his shoulders rising and falling a little faster than before. He made an effort to not move, but something was definitely going on behind that glossy black surface.

She stared at him, and tentatively reached out to him with her hand. "Can you hear me?"

I chuckled. "Of course he can hear you. The drone is fully functional. He just doesn't remember you, nor does he feel anything. He has been brainwashed to be obedient and compliant." I fell into my hypnotist voice, to help him feel more like a mindless drone. "Turn towards her, drone. You can see her, you can hear her. But her words mean nothing to you. The only thing you understand are my commands. Remember the mantras that echoed in your empty head. You must obey."

With two heavy steps, he turned towards her. His shoulders were straight and his arms were rigid. His chin was still up, as if he was looking over the top of her head into the distance.

Her hand touched his chest, ever so slightly pressing into the smooth black surface. "Don't you remember me?" She looked up at him, almost pleading.

"Push her away, drone." I grinned as I watched them.

His strong arms mercilessly pushed her away and it turned into another struggle. He remained rigid and robotic while she passionately fought to touch him, proclaiming her love for him, begging him to listen to her. After shoving her away a few times, he resolved the situation by grabbing her in another tight hold, one hand around her wrists, and his other hand holding her by the hair on the back of her head. It was a weakness we both knew about her; if you grabbed her by the hair she melted in your hands. She stared up at the glossy black surface of the mask as if her gaze might pierce it, and it gave me another idea.

I had been watching them with baited breath, biting my lip, but this was the perfect moment for me to speak. "Well done, drone." I couldn't help that my hypnotist voice turned sultry and smouldering, they were turning me on so much. "You've got her in the right grip for the brainwashing unit in your hand to connect to her brain."

Her eyes grew large and she squirmed, trying to move her head. His grip was strong however, and her renewed struggle only resulted in a tremble and a shake.

I got up from the bed to touch her and bring my voice closer to her ears, knowing that would help with the suggestions. "As the unit connects to your nervous system, you might feel an electric jolt that travels down through your spine to your crotch. It's an unfortunate side-effect that can't be helped."

She gasped, shuddering in his grip. To my surprise, the drone moved too. His breathing quickened and there was a jerk in his hips.

"But as we developed the technique more over time, we've found that the arousal that grows in the subject actually helps the brainwashing take hold. It's very hard to resist something that feels so good, isn't it?" I hovered around her, keeping a close eye on both of them. "Feel how the connection is made in the back of your head, and the current travels through your body, washing away your resistance. Look at him, so mindless and empty. He couldn't fight it, and neither can you. You'll end up just like him as you feel my control creep into your head."

She swayed in his grip, her eyes glossing over as she stared up at the shiny surface of the mask. He let go of her wrists and her arms fell limply to her sides. Her shivering body slumped a little, as if the only thing holding her up was the strong hand on the back of her head.

I groped her breasts, trying to find and tweak her nipples through her shirt, as I continued to narrate the fantasy. "We haven't worked out why or how the brainwashing causes this strong arousal, but we've noticed that when the brainwashing unit in a drone's hand is activated to turn a new subject, both the subject and the drone suffer from it. As my power travels through your body and takes hold of your neural pathways, it fills you with sexual pleasure. If you are feeling any pleasure at the moment, that means you are under my control. And as the pleasure builds and grows inside you, it washes away your thoughts, making you more mindless and obedient."

Her eyes rolled up into her head and her lips parted as she moaned. Meanwhile, he bucked his hips and the bulge under his suit twitched and moved as his breathing became more laboured, making his shoulders rise and fall more quickly.

I licked my lips at this delicious scene I had crafted. "The pleasure is an essential part of the process now. The more you submit to this arousal, the faster it will take hold of you, the more helpless and compliant you become, and when you eventually come, that means the process is complete and you are my mindless drone. So you want to surrender to it, don't you?"

#hypnokink #consensualhypnofics

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aminiatureworld · 4 years ago

Text

Storms

Ship: RFA + Minor Trio and GN!Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 5,431 words total; about 700 per person

Premise: A rewrite of an old request I wrote back in 2017 (link here).

Author’s Note: These are less headcanons and more fics outlines lmao but hope you like this rewrite. I do considering I can barely stand reading the original, my writing has thankfully improved, and I hope it will continue to do so. I haven’t written in 2nd person in literal years (3rd person ftw) so I hope it doesn’t come off too strange.

Two notes. Firstly I’ve done my best to make the reader gender neutral. If you catch any gendered terms feel free to tell me so I can fix it. Secondly, I haven’t played Another Story yet, rip my broke ass, so if V and Saeran are a bit out of character, that’s definitely why. I’m working on it haha. In regards to V I simply know almost nothing about his route, and in regards to Saeran I’ve decided to ignore what I know about his route, mostly because this was hitting 4,000 words at that point and an in depth HC involving canonical thing would probably be about that length. Sorry this is so long and thus the final HCs a bit rushed. Thanks for putting up with me! Hope you enjoy!

Ao3 link in reblog

Zen

Having a fear of thunderstorms was one of the most obnoxious fears on the planet sometimes. Especially when one is surround by 60 mph gusts of wind and the house one lives in feels like 80% glass.

This was the predicament you were left in when a series of storms passed through the first week you and Zen were officially dating. Oh joy.

Despite how in love you were with Zen, revealing one’s fears, especially when they seem vaguely irrational, is a difficult thing to do, so you teetered towards Option B

That being: Don’t tell anyone, keep calm, if you need to take a break go to the bathroom or say you forgot something in the bedroom. Okay? Okay.

However this flawless plan of attack lasted only about five minutes, and the first clap of thunder had you ready to bolt under the bed.

Zen, bless him, was utterly oblivious, listening to the backtrack of a song he was working on and occasionally making such benign comments as “that’s a lot of rain” or “wow that was loud”

Yeah. That was loud. Help me.

Eventually it got a bit… much, and you had to make your excuses about getting a book from the television/living room. Since it was in the “basement” part of the complex you’d figured that it’d be easier to hide out there. Just turn off all the lights, try to find earplugs, then count down the time until the storms were over.

Unfortunately the weather wasn’t adhering to this plan very well, how typical of it, as the storms were supposed to last until the early hours of the morning. And it wouldn’t exactly be unobtrusive to not eat.

So after ten minutes in the dark you went out to help Zen prepare dinner. At least no one needed to go to the grocery store. And today’s menu included Japchae, so always a treat! It was going to be okay, nothing was going to happen. It’s fine.

At least that’s what you told yourself until a particular bright flash of lightning streaked the sky and you promptly jumped and dropped the sweet potato noodles on the ground.

At this point Zen switched from oblivious to overly concerned. Say what you will about him but he was truly a sweetheart when he noticed something was wrong. As he helped you pick up the spilled noodles, assuring you that there was enough still in the package to use, he asked what was wrong

You explained that when you were little your grandparents had a house in a village in the countryside and one summer day lightning struck a powerline, causing it as well as two houses close to yours to burn down.

Zen responded with such concern. “Oh MC I’m so sorry to hear that! Was anyone hurt? No wonder you’re uncomfortable around storms now.”

“It was such a long time ago, and it’s so unlikely to happen again my lifetime… I don’t know why I’m still so afraid, it’s so stupid.”

“It’s not stupid to be afraid of something. You don’t have to hide your fears around me sweetheart. There’s no shame in it.”

Unfortunately words usually cannot make fears go away, but safe to say you were touched. Picking up the rest of the noodles and disposing them you and Zen shared a sweet series of hugs, and maybe you wouldn’t continued down that route if the water hadn’t begun to boil and dinner was once more brought back into stark focus.

Afterwards you guys ate in front of the tv, turning on a random crappy show and making fun of the announcer.

You could still hear the thunder every once in a while, but Zen made sure you felt safe and happy, cuddling you, doing something to draw your attention to him at the beginning of each clap of thunder, and keeping up a steady stream of conversation, even about the most mundane of things.

Your fear still wasn’t gone, and you still weren’t excited for the rest of the week, but at least you had someone with you who truly cared and was actively trying to make you feel better. You knew Zen would always be there for you, and that knowledge would carry you through the most anxious of times, to the other side.

You truly loved him so much.

Yoosung

Sometimes you wished that you could disappear into something as easily as Yoosung did, both with his games and with his studying.

Yoosung was in his first year of veterinarian medical school and, having just passed the first series of exams, had invited you over to the apartment he was leasing, for an evening of games, television, and overall hanging out. It would’ve been more of a date, but the weather was impressively stormy and, much to your relief, it was decided that staying inside was the better option.

Yoosung was loading up a game on the tv and you were checking to see what remained in the fridge, when a bolt of lightning raced across the sky; suddenly you became aware of just how very high up apartment buildings tended to be, and, much like usual, the logical part of your brain repeating Googled information about lightning rods was replaced by a static of anxiety floating around in your brain.

Returning to the TV room you nervously picked up the controller, hoping that Yoosung wouldn’t notice. Not that you didn’t trust him to understand, indeed you’d hardly met anyone as understanding as Yoosung, but it was more that years of being told “it’s just rain” had kinda gotten to your system.

The first half an hour or so was alright, the quiet mental notes you were taking told you that the storm was still far enough away, although there was no doubt it was getting closer; something reinforced by your, hopefully, discreet checking of the weather app.

When the storm arrived, oh boy did it arrive.

The winds felt unbearable, screaming terribly, rattling the windowpanes with fast, stinging rain, so much so the outside looked less like the outside and more like the middle of a whirlpool. A whirlpool that occasionally set itself on fire, the lightning dispersed by the odd shadows of the rain.

At this point all pretense fell out the window.

“MC?” Yoosung looked over as you’d dropped the remote and drawn your legs up to your chest, burying your face in your knees, all thoughts blocked out. “MC.” Yoosung said a little louder, putting his own remote down on the coffee table and scooting over to where you were sitting on the couch. “Hey.” He wrapped his arms around your shoulders, something vaguely uncomfortable considering the position you both were sitting in, but still a welcome presence, a bit of comfort making its way past your wall of fear.

“Not a huge fan of thunderstorms I see.” He said when the storm had calmed down a bit. You let out a shaky sort of laugh. Understatement of the century, wouldn’t you think?

“I have an idea!” Yoosung ran out of the room, leaving you to curl yourself up again, until he came back, a pair of headphones in hand.

“These are the best noise cancelling headphones I own, and they cost a fortune so they’d better work.” He placed them over your ears, and immediately you noticed how muffled the sound became. Evidently it must’ve shown on your face, because Yoosung smiled even wider, nodding gently before picking up his remote again.

As the storm continued so did the gaming. At some point you guys ended up thrown about the couch, cuddling each other, and occasionally knocking elbows when the gaming got intense. When things were finally over you two lay there a little longer, although you’d taken the headphones off.

“Thank you.” You whispered, content.

“For what?” Yoosung smiled. “That’s what boyfriends are for.”

“Not all boyfriends.” You countered “You’re special. The best boyfriend one could ask for.”

And you meant it.

Jaehee

I imagine both you and Jaehee not being huge fans of thunderstorms. They frightened you, and to Jaehee the volume gave her a headache, not to mention the fact you were both living in a cheap apartment on the ground floor while the coffee shop’s purchase was still new; and the whole structure had this obnoxious habit of vibrating with both the lightning and thunder, leaving everything a bit discombobulated and very unpleasant.

The coffee shop wasn’t much better really, open as it was, the whole front being 85% glass and only 15% brick.

So when you both checked your phones and saw that storms were on their way it was all about planning.

Since you couldn’t afford to close the shop for the week you instead put a large display in the windows, putting up cardboard trees, birds, and whatever else would block most of the view.

You went through the store, making sure everything unnecessary was unplugged.

Really it was probably a bit overkill, or at least Jumin and Seven certainly thought it was, but hey better safe than sorry.

The apartment was given the same treatment, blinds and shutters were closed, toasters and charging cords were unplugged, and Aspirin and earplugs were stocked up.

The week of the storms was really incredibly unpleasant, with you two sneaking in hugs and kisses whenever the line of customers was small, squeezing each other’s hands when a particularly bright streak of lightning flashed, or when the thunder seemed to become unbearable.

No dawdling home this week, much to the chagrin of both of you, who’d taking to park exploring and other such mundane things that both you and Jaehee had missed out on, her due to work and you due to being shut up in Rika’s apartment for eleven days.

Nevertheless neither of you were particularly keen to venture out in the middle of a storm, so instead you two headed home, a night’s worth of musicals and cuddling ahead of you.

Dinner was spent in front of the tv, although usually you two usually made a point to eat at the dining table it was in the most windowed room in the house and thus not meant to be.

Zen’s beautiful tenor might not have been enough to completely drown out the storms, but it was certainly a help, not to mention the large doses of cuddles you were giving one another.

But really the best part about it was just being able to talk freely about your fears, you both having the reference that those who don’t suffer with what’s widely considered an irrational fear in modern times don’t understand.

And that was really what kept it together for you two. You’ll always be there for one another, you’ll always understand one another.

Eventually the clock struck the hour and you both realized that not only would there be work tomorrow, but musicals can’t much be enjoyed when you’re only paying half attention.

You got ready for bed, both making a final sweep for plugged in appliances that might burn out if there should be an energy surge.

Right before you two drifted off to sleep you gave Jaehee a small kiss. “What was that for?” She whispered. Everything was so beautifully comfortable, so cozy and intimate, and your happiness in that moment overpowered all fear.

“I just love you, I love you so much.” You replied. Jaehee blushed, but returned the kiss.

“I love you too. Forever.”

Jumin

It’s not that you hid it from him because you were embarrassed, well at least that wasn’t the main reason. It was more Jumin’s habit of blowing everything out of proportion, to the point of hindrance. That was really what you were afraid of, you just needed calm, need comfort, not yoga or whatever was to be the cure. And not that Jumin couldn’t or wouldn’t give you comfort, but the likelihood of him giving you calm was maybe a bit more debatable.

So you tried to keep it hidden, mentioned nothing of it on your way out the door in the morning, avoiding the topic in the messenger, even when Seven started to go on and on about windspeed – did the bastard know something?

Things seemed to be going… okay? I mean they weren’t great, you were constantly pushing down the urge to hide in a closet or something, but hey Jumin wasn’t aware yet. Success?

The trip home was certainly unpleasant, and the text that your husband was working late again certainly didn’t seem promising, but hey there’d be Elizabeth, and the bedroom had amazing blackout curtains. So, yeah, it’d be fineeee.

At least it would be if the damn penthouse didn’t have windows for walls. Something that certainly wasn’t normal or part of the regular plan.

Nor was it really possible to take a nap with the thunder so loud and your thoughts running high, really it’d probably be better on the lower floors if you weren’t so sure of people being there.

At this point the plan became less of “don’t let Jumin know, play it cool” to “survive whatever the cost”, which yes perhaps was also an overreaction on your part, but you knew damn well that all rationality had long fled, and you weren’t about to go chasing after it, that wasn’t what you needed right now. Rationality was also what had you go into a google wormhole about terrifying lightning related accident. Need one say more?

So you picked up a perhaps a bit disgruntled Elizabeth the 3rd, and buried yourself under the covers, stroking her fur at regulated intervals, trying desperately to pay attention to the video you’d loaded on your phone, to less than perfect success.

You wouldn’t say that you were dozing when Jumin came home, it was more like you were so deep in your fears that you really didn’t have room to pay attention to anything else.

“MC?” Jumin was instantly alert when you didn’t run to greet him at the door, something that had really become tradition between the two of you. Him being also a bit of a worrier – and a bit being perhaps a gracious way of saying it, lovely though it can be – his first thoughts were that you’d hit your head and passed out somewhere, but the fact that Elizabeth had also not come to greet him clued him in that you two were most likely holed up somewhere, perhaps napping, as had happened a few times before.

His surprise then when you turned out to be in bed, distinctly not unconscious or asleep, holding onto Elizabeth like a vice, was really immense.

“Darling, is something wrong?” You knew he meant something rather more akin to “Something is definitely wrong and I’m very worried and hope you tell me, if not I might become a horrendous paranoiac and never stop bugging you but I also want to be polite about it.”

You folded quite quickly, deciding that it really wasn’t worth it, you were in such a state, and the anxiety was still in complete control of your brain, excuses weren’t about to be made.

In a moment Jumin had enveloped you in a hug, which you were glad to accept, discreetly kicking his phone away hoping that he’d not notice it and get it in his head to send for a meditative trainer or some such thing, since that wasn’t what you were looking for, at least not at the moment.

Thankfully though he seemed more focused on your wellbeing, asking you to talk through your anxiety, gently drawing circles on your back in an attempt to get rid of excess tension. It felt good to be able to release your stream of consciousness, even if it was a bit embarrassing. Every time you started feeling a bit overwhelming you’d insert an apology here and there but Jumin would simply shake his head and assure you it was fine

“After all, you were so patient and understanding when I went through a crisis of consciousness, when all my emotions were suddenly flooding my mind. You listened to me then, the least I can do is listen to you now.”

After you’d exhausted your thoughts and you two had laid there a bit, cuddled together, basking in each other’s presence, you two went to the kitchen, where Jumin insisted he’d make dinner himself.

You weren’t happy to be in the windowed room again, but one flick of a discreet switch and they were suddenly shuttered closed.

“You can do that?!”

“Of course?”

“Ugh, the idle rich.” You shook your head and Jumin feigned horror. This act went on throughout dinnertime, another thing to help soothe your nerves, as well as Elizabeth, who was being awfully nice, curled up in your lap.

Every clap of thunder and Jumin would hold your hand or give you a kiss or hug, again trying to distract you.

Afterwards it was watching trashy soap operas – really you couldn’t understand why Jumin adored these shows so much, he really did secretly have a flare for the dramatics – and more cuddling.

As the night got later and you got sleepier you realized that, though the anxiety wasn’t completely gone, you really were quite content.

“Ah, I wouldn’t mind this every time it stormed.”

Jumin chuckled at that. “Why not? Anything to make you comfortable and happy.”

“You’re going to spoil me terribly you know.”

“Again, why not? Comfort isn’t spoiling someone, and if it was I’d spoil you rotten. You deserve the universe, I’m just giving what I can.”

And really the comfort he gave you was worth five universes at that moment, but wasn’t he always worth that much?

Saeyoung

Saeyoung’s reaction to your fear would probably initially be teasing.

Not because he thought it was funny, more his brain still found sincerity a hard thing to grapple with, and he found his knee jerking reaction be to try and make fun, enough fun for you to forget about everything.

You knew this of course, had long ago learned his patterns, his mannerisms and habits, and initially you tried to play along with it, after all the only reason he knew you were afraid of thunderstorms was because he’d caught you running into the closet on the CCTV in Rika’s apartment. If it weren’t for that you would’ve been perfectly happy with him never finding out. Surely you could humor him a bit.

Well anxiety has a funny way of sharpening one’s nerves, and by the sixth joke you were ready to pull your hair out, both from Saeyoung and from the storm.

“Hey Saeyoung? I really do appreciate what you’re doing, don’t get me wrong, but I… I don’t think this is going to be the way to sort it out.”

“Oh… I see.” Saeyoung faltered. Saeran, who was also not a fan and was thus gaming, probably with the volume at unhealthy rates, still managed to snort out a “I could’ve told you that.” Saeyoung shook his head apologetically.

“I’m sorry MC… I, uhm. Yeah…” For a moment you both sat on his horrifically battered couch, the tension rising. Saeyoung screwed his face up in thought, before launching himself towards you, wrapping you up in a huge hug.

“I.. Saeyoung-?”

“Cuddles are a miracle cure.” He said, kissing you on the forehead. “They’ll chase away the storms, just you wait, and in the meantime, how about you teach me how to make something other than sandwiches.”

“I know you know how to cook.” You pointed out, at least happier with this approach, but Saeyoung shook his head.

“I forgot. I can now only make ham sandwiches, and that is truly a sad fate. Won’t you help me? Oh cook in shining armor.”

You rolled your eyes at that “Isn’t being the hero more of your route?” But agreed to make something with him.

Saeyoung really put everything into the “I forgot act”, and you soon found yourself distracted by his antics, peeling onions with a vegetable peeler, “accidentally” getting flour in your hair, tackling you with hugs and kisses the minute thunder or lightning even attempted an interruption. You found yourself either laughing or breathless from his attention, and when your anxiety was too difficult to ignore you allowed Seven to wrap you in a hug as you buried your head in his shoulder, his arms acting as a barrier for the sound.

Dinner took a horrendously long time to cook, something Saeran was sure to point out, but it really did help. As you two were cleaning up dishes Saeyoung paused for a moment.

“Being a hero really isn’t my thing you know.”

“Huh?” You’d sorta forgotten the earlier conversation amidst all the antics.

“You saved me MC, from myself, my own destruction. The least I could is chase away a few thunderstorms. I’d do anything to make you happy. So, I hope that you can be happy.

“What a silly thing to say.” You said, giving him a peck on the cheek. “I’m already so very happy, so incredibly glad to have you in my life. Indeed, if this isn’t happiness then there is no such thing.”

He really was your hero, your knight in peculiar armor. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

V/Jihyun Kim

V hated thunderstorms. Although he’d agreed to get his vision fixed, the date of the surgery was still some months off, and in the meantime every storm sent him in disarray, the sudden loudness of the thunder a disconcerting reminder of his own vulnerability, the fact that if even one thing in his life shifted he was likely to run right into it.

Being someone who had such a visceral hate, he was quick to become aware of your anxiety as well. It was something he just picked up on, before you had the chance to even think about hiding it from him.

“I see I’m not the only one who hates when it storms.”

You weren’t really surprised by his fear, he’d made it quite clear how he disliked to be reminded of the vulnerability that came from being blind, his eyes were already an ever present reminder of his past, a reminder of the feelings that had rotted inside him, which were so difficult to reconcile with.

So during the storms he ended up focusing most of his nervous energy on you, preferring that to morbid thoughts about the path his life had taken.

Coincidentally you tended to have the same reaction, and thus stormy days, though far from pleasant, became a semi-pleasant ritual, full of affection and comfort.

You pointed out the lightning and counted the miles out loud for him, something that helped him ground himself in the world, feel a little more in control of the situation, and in return he kept up a steady stream of conversation, telling you how your fears weren’t silly, how much it mattered to him that you were happy, and all the things you’d do together when the storms passed.

Sometimes you two turned on a podcast, or a video whose audio V had heard multiple times before, another exercise in familiarity that helped comfort you two. He also didn’t mind whether you kept the lights on or turned them off, only wishing to keep at least one window open, to keep track of the storm’s progress.

He also was in the habit of singing or humming at random intervals, his voice kept you in the moment, rather than in an endless loop of “what ifs”.

By the end of the storm you two were often exhausted, which is why they so often ended with you two tangled together, already half asleep.

One such time you were about to sleep, only barely awake to nod when V said the storm had passed.

“Jihyun,” you mumbled, hearing a hum in return. “I love you.”

V smiled, hearing that from you always felt like a moment of rejuvenation, of sudden clarity.

Kissing your forehead he hugged you a little tighter.

“I love you too.”

Saeran

Saeran loved storms. Loved the sheer, raw, uninhibited power they exuded, the proof of how natural ruled above all.

You knew that. You also knew that storms were, in fact, the bane of your existence, and that you’re rather die than sit up and watch them with him.

But you also didn’t want to disappoint him, didn’t want to be a source of unhappiness in his life, so when Saeran eagerly looked out the window and called out “MC! It’s thundering!” You reluctantly dragged yourself over to watch with him.

At first it was alright if you focused on him more than on the outside, the awe and glee he took in watching the rain was endearing, the happiness marked so clearly and without inhibition. It was something that almost took your breath away in how beautiful it was, the joy of somehow who’d had so little of it.

Then the first clap of thunder arrived and you’d nearly sprained your wrist, slipping on the counter and banging your arm.

Saeran’s attention was immediately turned away from the thunderstorm and he looked at you curiously.

“Are you alright MC?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, it’s just, I’m fine.” You didn’t want him to know. It made him so happy, how could you ever take away from that, holding you bruised elbow you excused yourself to the bathroom for a moment, saying you needed make sure nothing was serious.

Of course that excuses could only last for so long, but the bathroom seemed such a comfort compared to the windowed rooms, and you lost track of all sense of time or space, curled up in a ball, leaning against the cold wall, the linoleum tiling keeping you grounded.

Eventually however it came to an end, and there was a short knock before Saeran turned the doorknob and opened the door.

“Something wrong?” He asked, immediately realizing the answer to that question after looking at your position. Kneeling down to face you he cupped your cheek. “Thunderstorms?”

You nodded, despite yourself. You really didn’t want to take this from him. But he didn’t seem to have felt like anything was taken, instead kissing you on the forehead and opening his arms for you to envelope yourself in them, something you did gratefully.

He held you, rocking you slightly, whispering random bits of words, random pieces of song, anything to keep your anxiety lower. Nudging the door shut once more you two stayed there for a while, and you finally felt yourself calm down.

“I’m sorry.” You mumbled.

“For what?” His tone was that of genuine confusion.

“For taking away watching thunderstorms from you. I don’t want to take anything away from you of course, I really don’t. I’m so sorry.”

“Oh MC…” Saeran peppered your face with kisses. “You haven’t taken anything away from me. I can still watch the thunderstorms, can still love them. Your fear isn’t something to be ashamed of, we all fear things in our lives, all have things we’d rather throw aside. I’m always here for you, always. It’s something I chose, and would choose over and over again. And that choice doesn’t mean I cannot chose to love thunderstorms, or watch them. It just means I have to make sure you’re comfortable as well. Besides, I wouldn’t want to do something that made you uncomfortable, not if I could do something about it. So don’t talk like that anymore, okay?”

You nodded, feeling reassured and slightly sheepish. He really was too good for words.

You two stayed in the bathroom until it became too uncomfortable, when you moved to the bed. It was a lovely evening, the storms having mellowed into a gentle rain.

Wrapped in Saeran’s arms you suddenly felt such a rush of emotions overcome you, contentment, bashfulness, love. Especially love.

You loved Saeran so much. And you always would.

Vanderwood

You’d really rather not tell Vanderwood.

You two were the cynics of the group, sarcastic, unfazed, or rather you hid your general emotions to the larger group in a swath of wit and humor. You really didn’t want to tell him that you were afraid of what was essentially a fear that had outlived its purpose.

It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Vanderwood with your true feelings, indeed sometimes you felt as if Vanderwood was the only person you could trust with your true feelings, a sentiment they had reciprocated multiple times.

It was moreso you already knew how much people saw your fear as overreacting. Didn’t need your partner to join the bandwagon of slight bafflement and bemusement, even if they couldn’t help themselves.

So there you were, sitting on the couch, storm on full display, trying not to dig your head into the side of the lazyboy as Vanderwood sat typing away on their computer.

Unfortunately the storm grew more and more violent, and you quickly grew more and more uncomfortable, your plans of nonchalance having really taken a critical hit.

Before you could think of a proper excuse to go into the bedroom closet and have a bit of a scream a huge clap of thunder shook the complex and the book you’d held in your hands plummeted to the ground.

Vanderwood immediately got up and shut the blinds. “I forgot you don’t like storms.” They said, closing the last of the blinds before turning around to your startled face.

“You know I don’t like thunderstorms?!”

“Was I not supposed to?” They looked vaguely confused, and not a bit amused.

“No.” You buried your hands in your palms.

“No I was or no I wasn’t?”

“You weren’t.” You groaned. “It’s embaraassing.”

“Why should it be embarrassing? Look, MC.” They walked over to you, taking your hands in theirs. “There are a lot of embarrassing things people are in life. Of which I’m at least half of them. I cannot say a lot of things with great confidence, but I can say this. You aren’t the least bit embarrassing for having an incredibly common and practical fear.”

“A fear that should’ve died out with the invention of bricks.” You muttered.

“Perhaps. But we both know that’s not how it works.” They replied. “So don’t feel the need to hide something like that. Okay?”

You nodded and Vanderwood smiled, before giving you a hug, something which you gladly reciprocated.

It was a quiet evening, one of easy cooking and laughing at miscellaneous videos, of making fun of spy shows and swapping stories.

In the end you probably shouldn’t’ve been so surprised.

Vanderwood was an amazing partner, caring, funny, observant, loving.

Perhaps it was okay to have such a fear around them. And if it was okay with Vanderwood than everyone else would have to suck it up, because really two people’s opinions mattered to you on the fact, yours and theirs. And in this instance you’d found yourselves completely in accord.

#so... fucking... long #I'm so tired #was gonna write request tonight but I have to sleep #hope people like this at all lolol #if not might cry #mystic messenger #mystic messenger fanfiction #mystic messenger headcanons #fanfiction #headcanons #my writing #rewrite

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jacmyheroacademia · 5 years ago

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Hanahaki Bakugo X FemReader Part Three

Writers: Jac and Zeptikye Warnings: Mentions of blood, sickness, and medication Pairing; Bakugo X Female Character All Chapters

[Hey guys! Here’s a longer chapter, sorry for the delays in posting! Also I should have a master list up for this fic sometime today! -Jac]

Katsuki was woken up by the sound of the door opening, immediately jolting himself from sleep as he didn’t recognize this room as his own. Recovery Girl set another glass of water on the nightstand next to him, setting her hands on top of each other on her cane.

“I believe that you should be able to go to class.” she said simply.

Katsuki’s eyes widened in surprise, “Oh shoot-” he muttered as he sat up quickly- “What time is it?” He asked, reaching for the glass. “An hour before Mr. Aizawa should be beginning class. However, the situation’s currently out of my hands as all I can do at this point is provide you with the medication and painkillers if you choose to take them. Since Hanahaki is a rare disease that stems from strange trauma, I cannot force you into a confession; it has to come naturally. So, I believe that you should return to your regular daily life with that kept in mind.”

Katsuki swore quietly, “alright.” he muttered simply, glancing down as Recovery girl put a small bottle of pills on the nightstand that made his heart lurch a bit and the flowers in his lungs flutter as if they knew what was coming.

He thinned his lips, his mind mulling over the different options and opting to grab the bottle of painkillers instead. Recovering girl sighed softly but nodded, “Take two a day until you are hopefully able to confess- and never take more than that dosage alright.” she told him firmly.

Katsuki nodded, hesitating a moment before pocketing the other bottle and heaving himself to his feet to move towards the door.

“Oh- and Bakugo.” she said as she moved with him to the door, “A confession is still the easiest way to relieve the pain weighing you down. The medication is not supposed to be a permanent solution.” he paused a moment before he grunted with a nod, not hesitating any longer as he immediately jogged down the hall to head back to the dorms to get ready for class.

[Y/N] rubbed her eyes as she tied her tie, having gotten very little sleep last night. She could feel the pills recovery girl had given her begin to kick in, frowning at the heavy feeling they added. She had told Recovery girl earlier in the night that she didn’t want the pills or the surgery, but until she confessed to Bakugo Recovery girl had recommended she take the suppressant pills anyway so as to not let the rose thorn cause any further damage. She closed her eyes for a moment with a sigh, slowly picking up her backpack and trying not to allow the medication to affect her too much.

Her throat wasn't hurting as badly, but the emotional side effects were weighing on her heavily already and it hasn't even been a day.

She sighed quietly, closing her eyes and holding a hand in her hair for a moment. “Ok…” She mumbled, running through the schedule again in her mind. She would have a period of time from just after classes to around eight p.m where the medication would wear off and she would have to take pain killers- Recovery Girl had warned that taking it any sooner would cause negative effects, but taking it a minute late and her flowers would flare up again.

She sighed as she looked at the ground … She would need to confess to Bakugo soon- she knew that the medication wasn't supposed to be permanent- but she was having trouble thinking of a situation where Katsuki would ever return her feelings.

[Y/N] sighed, rubbing her temples. She didn't want to lose the relationship she currently had with him- she genuinely liked having him as a friend… But it seemed that option had been taken from her. It was either she confessed and he somehow miraculously accepted her- or she got surgery.

She felt tears well up behind her eyes as she stared in the mirror … How could Katsuki Bakugo ever accept feelings from someone like her?

She clenched her teeth, the numbing feeling pounding down on her body preventing any real opinion she could give.

She rubbed her eyes tiredly before finally turning to her door to leave her dorm. [Y/N] moved out of the building in what almost felt like a daze- her thoughts running blankly.

“[Y/N]- [Y/N]!” She finally heard Uraraka's voice calling to her as she stepped into UA, [Y/N]s eyes widening. “Oh! Yes? Sorry?” She asked quickly.

She gave her a slightly sad smile, gently tapping her shoulder. “You ok?” She asked softly, [Y/N] nodding softly with a quiet smile. “Just tired, sorry.. what was it?” She murmured with a quiet smile. Uraraka shrugged, “just wanted to know if you were feeling any better” she said honestly as they walked.

[Y/N] kept her smile on her face, shrugging. “On and off…”

Uraraka nodded, “well I hope you feel better! Recovery girl gave you some stuff to help right” She said off handedly.

[Y/N] nodded weakly, “Yeah- nothing permanent but its supposed to help.” she told her.

Uraraka nodded opening her mouth like she wanted to ask something else but they were quickly interrupted when they walked into the usual commotion of the classroom. She blinked quickly, every sound that reached her ears sounding amplified.

She grimaced painfully as she ducked her head, “sorry- I'm gonna go sit down-” she told Uraraka briefly, making her way to her seat and pulling out her headphones to hopefully block some of the noise.

Her already sensitive ears ached, her lungs following after and causing [Y/N] to screw her eyes shut and set her head on the desk. She set some soft white noise to play on her phone, hoping someone would tap her on the shoulder when Aizawa began teaching.

She kept her head down, her jaw tight and her posture stiff. She closed her eyes as she felt a deep numbness cover her sadness- it was a horrible feeling, and it was only day one.

The medication dampened her despair towards it- but [Y/N] still knew it should be there and could feel it's absence- knowing she wanted to be done with this as soon as she could.

She felt a tap on her shoulder after a few more minutes, [Y/N] pulling her gaze up blurrily. She pulled her headphones from her ears, being able to handle the noise now that it was just Aizawa speaking.

Her eyes scanned the classroom, getting caught on the back of Katsuki’s head, the angry blonde slouched in his chair as usual, [Y/N] feeling a soft tint of blush meet her cheeks as she thought about him. The comfortability of him being there actually being one of the only emotions she could feel a little deeper.

She subtly shook her head, trying again to focus on what she should be. She opened up her notebook to take a few notes on what Aizawa was saying, glancing at the short list she had made the night before of prospective ways to confess to Katsuki- recovery girl has said it might help tame the flowers a bit.

[Y/N] chewed on her lip as she read over them, huffing a small sigh. She was still so new to the idea of love, to the strange feeling in her stomach she now recognized as romantic attraction, even if it was dulled by the medication. But it didn’t change the fact that none of the ideas on the list really felt like … her- or like anything Katsuki would particularly like.

[Y/N] sighed, shaking her head as she folded the list and pocketed it- not finding anything in it that would actually help. Right now she needed to focus on her school work, she would think better about the situation with Katsuki when she wasn’t supposed to be paying attention to something else anyway.

Class seemed to drag on for two times longer than it should have, [Y/N] already tired. By the time the bell finally rang she was already feeling ready to go back to the dorms, forcing herself to sit up a bit straighter as Aizawa left the room to be replaced with Present Mic. She furrowed her brows, closing her eyes a moment and taking a deep breath- as her aching throat has caused her to breathe shallow and therefore have a moment of dizziness.

“Hey- you okay?” Momo asked in concern from behind her, Todoroki looking to her earnestly as well. “You seem really tired- if you want me to take notes for you I can.” She offered, Shoto nodding as well.

[Y/N] forced a smile and shook her head. “I can make it, I don't want to bother you.” She murmured. Shoto seemed to see right through that excuse, giving her a piercing look that had been perfected over a year of the two of them being able to practically silently communicate.

‘what's actually going on?’

She shrank slightly, ducking her head. She sighed, discreetly signing a miniscule response.

‘not right now.. please? I'll tell you later.’

Shoto looked concerned but nodded anyway, Momo looking between the two of them and pulling out her phone to give them at least a bit of privacy, Shoto reaching forward and squeezing her hand.

A soft smile managed to pull it's way across her lips, [Y/N] gently squeezing back and moving her fingers up to sign a silent ‘thank you.’

Shoto nodded, offering a miniscule smile onto his face before leaning back in his chair, [Y/N] happy to be reminded she had a friend to talk to. She sighed as she sat back in her chair, closing her eyes a moment before refocusing her brain. It was going to be a long day.

…

Katsuki growled as he stuffed his things in his backpack quickly, forcing his way past people and towards the bathroom as he felt another freaking peony try to make its way up his throat. He clenched his jaw together, silently cursing.

The day had moved excruciatingly slow as Katsuki did his best to power past his new sickness, steamrolling himself into working even harder to prove to himself he could do it.

He grit his teeth and shook his head violently, trying to shake off the exhaustion as he stomped down the hall.

“Whoa dude- you looking even more murderous than usual.” Eijirou said as he caught up to him. Katsuki simply seethed, hiding the pain and the exhaustion with a scowl. Kirishima raised a brow but ultimately shook it off, probably just assuming Katsuki was in a bad mood.

He managed to swallow back a few of the massive flowers- the petals immediately blocking his airflow and causing Katsuki to choke as he began to run towards the bathroom. Kirishima yelped something in surprise but Katsuki didn't hear it as he ran into the men's bathroom, stabilizing his hands on the sink and coughing violently.

Katsuki hacked up another bout of flowers, his breathing strangled and fast as he tried to catch it again.

He took a few struggling deep breaths as he looked into the mirror, his lips stained red with blood, his face pale and dark circles under his eyes.

He thinned his lips with a growl, ripping paper towels out of their container and ridding himself of the blood- doing his best to clean the sink.

The sight of the flower petals made his stomach hurt, as if his love for [Y/N] was something inherently wrong, destined to slowly torture him from the inside out … How could something so genuine turn into something so vile?

He stared at the flowers miserably as he dumped them in the trash, his lips thinning as he tried not to shiver.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad- to confess his brain tried to argue, you two are already friends, and romance is just friends with … Kissing? I guess? His brain tried to rationalize, but Katsuki shook his head, that didn't feel right- his emotions went deeper than just wanting to kiss her.

He genuinely… cared. Cared about her safety, cared about if she was happy, cared about wanting to make her happy, cared about keeping her safe, cared about keeping her his friend… He cared about a lot of things.

The sound of the bathroom door opening jolted him back to reality, Bakugo scowling and stepping away from the sink. He loved her … Genuinely loved her- … Why was that so freaking scary to come to terms with?

He wiped his hands clean again and combed one through his hair, forcing air down his lungs as his brain tried to make coherent thoughts.

His stomach ached as he realized he hadn't eaten anything since the night before, Katsuki quickly scooping up his backpack from the bathroom floor to head to lunch.

Kirishima was standing outside, leaning against the wall and biting his cheek in concern. He immediately pushed away from the brick as he saw Katsuki, falling into step beside him. The red head didn't say anything about the weird behavior, but the silence was almost more exhausting than listening to his endless jabbering.

“Shut up.” Katsuki grumbled as they walked, Kirishima raising a brow- “I didn't-!” He tried but Katsuki interrupted him. “You're thinking too hard, idiot. Let it go.”

“I… O-ok..” Kiri replied hesitantly with a soft sigh, shuffling his feet for a second.

The two made it to the lunch room in silence, Katsuki glancing to the left as he saw [Y/N] sitting at her usual table beside freaking half and half, a sight that usually made him so upset now just being a minor numbed annoyance.

He allowed Kirishima to guide him towards the line, sulking behind him as he examined the two. [Y/N]s hair was pulled up and away from her face, her beautiful eyes looking tired- or maybe that was just her talking to Todoroki who was almost always emotionless.

He glowered quietly, trying to distinguish what they could be talking about, shaking his head with a snort a moment later. Katsuki made to turn his attention back to the line, yet his eyes found themselves drawn back to [Y/N] as she sat up with a sigh.

She pulled her hair loose, combing it away from her face and holding a palm to her forehead as she fisted her [hair color] locks. A [eye color] eye cracked open, a faint grin touching her full lips as she replied to whatever IcyHot had said.

Why'd she have to be so freaking gorgeous.

His cheeks immediately reddened at the thought as he reprimanded himself, he shouldn't be focusing on things like that- he wasn't one of the freaking pervs like grape head … but it was hard not to when it was her.

It was unfair, really, how beautiful she was without realizing it- both inside and out. He growled at himself, thinning his lips as he tried again to pull his attention away.

The petals in his chest writhed like angry vines twisting around his lungs, wanting him to acknowledge his feelings. She was … Stunning. The way her hair fell, the muscles in her back, the way her figure curved so perfectly like it would fit in Katsukis arms if he could-

He stopped his thoughts there abruptly, huffing angrily and shaking his head. It was ridiculous, really- to think she could… They were just friends…

Him and Kirishima moved forward in the line, Katsuki losing sight of [Y/N] and staring at the floor. He wasn't good with emotions, with expressing himself, being soft-spoken, quiet, kind… None of the things [Y/N] probably wanted in a partner.

A hiss left his lips, under his breath but apparently loud enough for Eijirou to hear. He nudged him again. “Can I know what's going on now?”

Katsuki considered for a long moment, Kirishima was his friend- arguably his best friend besides [Y/N] … And maybe he knew more about this stupid lovey stuff than Katsuki did. “Let's get lunch and go to the roof… Then maybe.” Katsuki finally muttered.

Kiri pouted for a second before he huffed, grinning softly with a nod. “Alright. You ok? It sounds like you're dying.” He joked, nudging him with his shoulder. Katsuki only grunted unpleasantly, punching him lighting in the arm.

Eijiro looked like he wanted to say something more, but Katsuki simply pushed past him to get food.

The pill bottle was in his backpack if he needed it, he had taken one of the pain killer pills a few hours ago- and Recovery girl has said he could take two if needed … but Katsuki shook his head, he didn’t like the way the medication messed with his head.

It made him more confused, if anything. Katsuki shook his head in an attempt to clear it, taking his food and sliding a chip into his mouth. Kirishima nudged him, holding up his own food. “To the roof?” he asked, Katsuki grunting and beginning to walk that direction- hoping that [Y/N] wouldn’t be mad that he didn’t eat lunch with her.

Besides not quite knowing what in the world he would say- he didn't quite think being around her without meds was a smart idea.. he didn't know what the flowers would do. He closed his eyes, sighing softly. Didn't change the fact that he was fully, hyper aware of where she was in the room and how far away he was moving.

“Dude … what’s going on?” Kirishima asked in genuine concern as they moved into the stairwell. Katsuki grunted again, simply trudging up the stairs.

“I'm sick, g*dd*mnit.” He grumbled. Kirishima’s eyes widened in surprise, “You’re what?” he said in quiet shock. Katsuki curled his lip, shooting him an annoyed look- the ever constant pain making him cranky.

“Sick. What- you deaf?” He growled, shoving his shoulder against the door to take them outside. Kirishima gave some sort of stumbled yelp as he followed after him, “Sick with what?! It’s not serious is it?” he asked nervously.

Katsuki huffed, plopping himself down against the wall roughly. “Well I would say puking out flowers along with every other internal organ I have is at least annoying.” He snapped sarcastically. Kirishima’s crimson eyes widened in confusion. “You’re puking up what?” he asked, clarifying. Katsuki gave him a flat look, shoving a bite of food into his mouth before answering- already feeling somewhat better with the sustenance.

“I have Hanahaki, you dunce.” He mumbled. Kirishima’s eyes widened, “Oh … oh shoot.” he muttered quietly, “I didn’t think that was a real thing people actually got!” he said in shock. “What’re you gonna do about it?” he asked quietly.

Katsuki grunted as he continued eating, silently pondering how large the rock he’d apparently lived under had to be to not know what this was at the start.

“Don't know. But I ain't planning on surgery.” He murmured, uncharacteristically quiet.

Kirishima nodded, “I’ve heard the surgery is living hell …” he said, eating a bite of his food as well. “Do you know who … uhh-” he asked.

Katsuki nodded, ignoring the faintest tint of pink on his cheeks as he shoved more food in his mouth. Kirishima stayed anxiously silent for a bit before Katsuki finally found himself spitting it out, as if a part of him desperately wanted someone to confide in.

“ It’s [Y/N].” he spat after a moment. His friends blinked in startlement, sitting back for a moment before a smile split his face and he slugged his arm “Well no duh.”he joked lightly. Katsuki scoffed, “Don’t act so happy about it- … I don’t know what I’m going to do about it.” he grumbled, coughing slightly and taking a deep drink of water.

Kirishima tilted his head, propping a knee up as he leaned back against the wall. “Well, why not confess?” Katsuki turned to him with an incredulously raised brow, “Are you kidding me? And risk freaking her out and losing her friendship? No way- took way too long to earn that already.” he grumbled angrily.

Kiri shrugged. “Well you don't know that, and it doesn't have to be a big deal, you can still be friends if she says no, right?”

Katsuki shook his head, “Recovery girl doesn’t think so. She said if she doesn’t return my feelings the flowers will just keep growing.” he said, his face an angry grimace.

Eijiro furrowed his brow, biting his lip as he slowly came to the realization as to what that meant. “Oh..” Katsuki nodded, “It’s s***” he muttered, setting down his half eaten food.

He propped his knees up and draped his arms over them, ducking his head as he went silent.

“Well…” Kiri murmured quietly. “I think your best option right now is to tell her.. and we'll figure it out from there..” A growl left Katsuki’s throat as he shook his head, “You don’t get it!” he exclaimed, “It’s not as easy as just telling her-” he yelled before a rough round of coughing interrupted him, Katsuki gasping in pain.

Kirishima immediately moved to help him, Katsuki swatting him off at first until another hacking cough shook his body.

“...Well then.. Could you explain it to me?” Eijiro replied after Katsuki caught his breath.

Katsuki’s shoulders shook as he felt like he was having to break through the wall that his small dose of medication had put up in order to accurately capture his feelings.

“I just-” he coughed again, the flowers seeming to know what was on his mind. Kirishima waited patiently, rubbing his back. Katsuki growled, pushing Kirishima’s hand away. “I don’t have time for this!” he finally managed, “I’m not ready for this. I’m trying to stay on top of school, and training, and hero work. I can’t give her a decent relationship, I don’t have the time or the emotional space to give her what she deserves.” he stuttered, finally feeling like he was scraping the top of the truth.

A gentle laugh from Kirishima surprised him. “I think if you're already in the mindset of making sure she has ‘What she deserves’ proves that you already have the emotional state..” Katsuki growled, “No- you don’t get it.” he argued, the flowers in his chest squirming- “I’m not- … I wouldn’t be- …” he growled, heaving a sigh.

“If she accepts my feelings then she’ll expect us to start dating, spending time together, I’ll have to worry about her emotions and she’ll have to worry about mine. She won’t just want a highschool romance she’ll want a real meaningful relationship- and neither of us are ready to hold up that responsibility with all the other crap we’re dealing with.” heword vomited. “I … I’m not ready for that responsibility.” he finally forced himself to admit.

Kirishima smiled ruefully, tilting his head as he set it on his knee. “But you can’t make that call for her, you don’t know what she’ll decide, not really. And that’s the entire point of talking to her, so you can figure it out between the two of you.”

Katsuki went silent at his friends annoyingly rational thinking … “It still just feels like a bunch of bull crap…” he muttered. Kiri snorted with a roll of his eyes. “Then I don’t know what else to tell you, man.”

The food on his plate had gotten cold by now, Katsuki glowering down at it as he tried to process … he knew Kirishima was right- he had no right to try to read [Y/N]’s mind or what she wanted versus what he thought she deserved … all he could tell her was the truth.

He growled a huffy breath, ducking his head in frustration with a sigh.

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overwatch-does-stuff · 4 years ago

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Overwatch: Rehabilitation- Lucio

Summary: Sigma has been captured by Overwatch. And Lucio was not expecting to meet a new friend today, but, uh, whoops. . .

Man, the melody was always so hard to get right. The background noises came easily, along with the beat, but getting the driving notes of a song down was always the most difficult. Lucio looked at his computer screen and sighed. He'd woke up this morning with a burst of inspiration and gone straight to work, not even bothering to check his messages (here at the Watchpoint they sent out a daily message with the schedule and such). He figured that if it was truly important, someone would come get him. No one had came, so he had started mixing tracks just like the old days. But now. . . he was stuck. The song just wasn't coming. He pushed himself away from the desk, rolling backwards on his rolling chair. He spun around until he faced the door. Maybe all he needed was to go for a walk (or a skate, as it was). Maybe he should go ask Bastion for some music inspiration. The Omnic had a natural ear for that kind of thing, and it had gotten him out of many writing blocks before. Lucio grabbed his headphone (he didn't go anywhere without his tunes) and skated out of his room. Torbjorn's workshop, where Bastion was likely to be, was practically across the base from where the living quarters were. He didn't mind though. More time to think. The hallways he was skating down started to look more and more empty. Messes he could have sworn were there yesterday were gone. Did Winston go on some sort of cleaning binge this morning? That wasn't really in the gorilla's character, though. Perhaps he simply took a wrong turn. No one else was to be found, either. The halls, at least this hall, was completely empty. The thought crossed his mind that maybe he should have checked the daily message before he left. Something weird was going on. A faint sound of muttering came from around a corner down the hall. Finally, people! Lucio sighed in relief and skated towards them. As he got closer, he couldn't make out what the voices were saying, but he recognized one as being Tracer's voice. The other voice he didn't recognize, but then again, he was new to the Watchpoint and still didn't know everybody yet. "The stabilization chamber will do you wonders, I just know it!" Lucio could finally make out what Tracer was saying. "But, these are my stabilizers." The other voice replied with a nervous tinge. "Well then, they aren't very good ones then, hmm?" Tracer's giggle echoed down the hall. "Winston's built this one in his lab to completely stabilize you. Then you could take those ones off, and he could study them! He built my harness, you know. I'm sure he could build yours better." Lucio approached the corner. Tracer came around it. Lucio gave a quick wave. "Hi, speedster! How's it-" Her face went pale and she quickly glanced behind her. At the same time, from around the corner came the Talon superweapon. Lucio stared in shock. It was just like the pictures he'd seen of the mission. The man was floating. Floating! He wore huge shoulder pads, which Lucio had previously assumed to be Talon photoshop or something. No, this man looked as fully intimidating as the pictures suggested. They stared at each other. The expression on- what was his name? Sugma? Ligma? No, it was Sigma, Lucio remembered- Sigma's face looked nervous, as if he had been caught doing something he shouldn't. Lucio wasn't sure what his own face looked like. He tried to turn it into a smile, and he gave a quick wave. After a few moments of silence, Tracer gave a small cough and finally spoke. "Hi, Lucio. What are you doing out here?" Something was definitely wrong. Tracer called everybody 'luv', unless it was important. Lucio tried to keep his tone casual. "Oh, not much. I was just on my way down to Torbjorn's workshop to see Bastion. What's up with you?" Sigma continually glanced between him and Tracer. The man started clasping and unclasping his hands. "Have you met Siebren before?" Tracer gestured to her companion. "Nope." Lucio turned to him. Dumping caution into the wind, he held out a hand and gave a smile. "Hi, I'm Lucio. Nice to meet you!" Sigma- er, what was that name Tracer had called him? Siebren?- didn't respond, only staring blankly at him. "No handshake? That's no problem, man. Say, are you new here? I haven't seen you around here before." Lucio drew his hand back. What was he thinking?! Of course Siebren was new here! He had been captured, like, a week ago. Lucio wanted to kick himself. That was dumb. Real dumb. "I am new here." Siebren responded quietly. "That's neat. Being new can be kinda scary, but it's nice here." Lucio nodded. "Is that so?" Siebren asked. "Yeah! Overwatch is great, compared to that nasty Talon place you were in. You're gonna love it here, Sigma- er, Siebren." Tracer shot him a fierce warning look, so harsh that Lucio instantly felt a twinge of guilt, but why he didn't know. What did he do? He'd been just trying to say hi! Lucio felt a totally different feeling now. It felt like his stomach was rising into his chest. He looked to Siebren. The man's eyes looked distant, before snapping into a clear panic. "Where am I?" He muttered. "Where am I being taken?" "Shh, luv. It's okay." Tracer put her hand on Siebren's arm. "You're being taken to Winston's lab-" "NO! Not the lab! Please not the lab!" He threw her arm off and backed away. "You've been very good. It's going to be okay." Tracer gestured quickly for Lucio to go before taking a few cautious steps toward Siebren. "You're going to a stabilization chamber. It'll help you calm down." "Not the lab, not the lab. . ." he began to hyperventilate as he repeated the phrase. Slowly, his voice became more singsong-like, and his eyes glazed over. Lucio stayed still. He reached out with his hands. "Hey man, you're alright. Nothing bad's gonna happen to you here." "Not the lab. Not the lab." Siebren sang, before his voice devolved into a quiet hum. Something about the song seemed familiar, but not in a way Lucio could place. "See? It's okay, luv." Tracer approached the man and took his hand. She tugged him, and he limply floated forward. Suddenly, his eyes focused, snapping to Lucio, causing him to flinch. "Do you hear that melody?" The voice sent a chill down Lucio's spine because of its sudden malice. Siebren's face was now twisted into a sly grin. It was the face from the Talon pictures. "Uh, what melody are you talking about?" Lucio tried to keep his voice from squeaking. Tracer came up and shushed him "No, no, the melody's all good. Let's stop talking about it, and Siebren and I should really get going-" "The melody cannot be ignored!" Siebren roared. "It's getting louder now. Louder and louder!" He covered his ears and took a sharp breath. His humming became louder, and as it grew, so did the feeling of weightlessness. Tracer had already recalled down the hall, and was saying something that Lucio couldn't make out. Hollow tones seemed to fill the air, (or maybe he was just imagining it,) and he turned up the music in his own headphone to try and block it out. Wait. Maybe to drown the invisible music out, Siebren just needed a different melody. Lucio tried to skate forward, but the step caused him to bound, as if he was on the moon. Woah. With more gentler steps, he approached Siebren. He took off his headphone and held it out to him. "Hey, man, why don't you give this a listen instead?" Siebren frantically grabbed the headphone and shoved it against his ear. "If you come down here, I can show you how to turn it up." Lucio gestured downwards. Slowly, Siebren lowered himself and sat on the ground. Only then did Lucio realize how high up the man had been floating. Lucio skated to his side. He reached underneath Siebren's hand to readjust the headphone, properly fitting it onto his ear. Sliding the volume wheel, he amped up the tunes. Siebren's head began to bob with the beat of the music. "You like it?" Lucio asked. There was no reply. Siebren began to relax. His breathing steadied and his jaw unclenched. Tracer blinked next to Lucio, tapped his shoulder, and whispered, "hey, we need to get out of here for a while." "Give him a moment." He whispered back. Focus returned to Siebren. It was as if he had just woken up from a dream. He looked around before his gaze settled on their two faces. "This music is nice!" He said loudly. The volume of the headphone must have been a bit loud. "Thanks." Lucio replied. "I wrote it myself." "Did you now? That's impressive." He smiled. "You're very talented." "Heh, thank you!" Lucio smiled back. "Say, have we met before? Your face looks vaguely familiar." He slightly cocked his head. "You two have met, but, you weren't in the right state of mind." Tracer piped in, and Siebren's face fell. "I'm Lucio." Lucio held out his hand again. This time, Siebren took it. "I'm Dr. Siebren de Kuiper. I'm sorry if I. . . did anything to you before." "Nah, you're cool in my book. Music helps me relax as well." Lucio gave a loose shake. "Music and I have a rather turbulent relationship," Siebren looked away for just a moment, "but I appreciate what you've done for me today." "What's your favorite genre?" Lucio asked. "Hmm, I think-" "I hate to cut the conversation short, but we should get going, luv." Tracer put a hand on Siebren's shoulder. "Winston's probably waiting for us." "Oh, yes!" He perked up. "The stabilization chamber. We were heading there right now, correct?" "That's right. Good job remembering." She smiled. Siebren beamed as he floated up from the ground. Seeing him so happy made Lucio smile as well. "Hey, I could walk with you guys. I'm not really doing anything right now." "You would?" Siebren asked. "Sure! You seem like a pretty neat guy." He responded. "Let's keep chatting." "You would, chat with. . . me?" Siebren was quiet, before shaking himself out of it. "I meant, of course. Let's get going." And the three of them walked.

#overwatch #overwatch sigma #siebren de kuiper #rehabilitation!sigma #lucio #overwatch lucio #lucio correia dos santos #this is an old draft of mine that I decided to polish up and finally complete #It's a little short but hopefully it's sweet.#overwatch fanfiction #this is part of a series #it takes place after tracer and winston but otherwise order is not too important #fanfiction

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thesaltyace · 3 years ago

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big rant/ramble below, you can safely ignore and move on to the next post in your feed.

Urgh

I shared the results of that autism screener with a quasi-friend who I thought would be "safe" (we used to work together and we connected over his being gay and me being visibly queer) but his response was blergh

Everyone has hints of autism.

okay yeah but this isn't just *hints* of autism. I'm answered yes to symptoms I've had since I was a kid that I've learned to mask or work around as an adult. But I still struggle with them.

He pointed out that he sees me as more ADHD than ASD.

Yeah, fair, and I'd need to see a professional to try to distinguish if my symptoms are ADHD, ASD, or both.

You don't hit the three prongs needed for a diagnosis.

But.... but I do. And the stuff I dealt with as a kid is still stuff I deal with today. I just mask it better. A short and not exhaustive list:

As I kid I had trouble interacting with peers. I didn't have friends, really. I didn't know how to make friends and I didn't try terribly hard to. I acquire friends when someone else "adopts" me and decides that we are friends. And once I became an adult, I have almost never had friends of my own - I share a friend group with my spouse who we're primary connected to through him. I'm okay with that. Maintaining a friendship entirely on my own power sounds impossible and exhausting.

I was okay with not having friends, I liked being alone, but my mom insisted on me being social. She made me join things so that I would have a list of people to invite to parties. I'd honestly have preferred a day of doing stuff I like or just a couple friends. As an adult, I want to be alone on my birthday. I will celebrate with certain friends, separately, usually over a quiet meal. That's it.

I had trouble understanding sarcasm and figurative speech. Like, I understand it now but I still think most figurative speech is annoying. I've been told the way I deliver sarcasm is weird, too.

I liked memorizing movies and quoting them start to finish, I thought it was fun but everyone else thought it was weird. I continued to do this into adulthood but I only quote aloud when I'm alone. Alamo Drafthouse quote-alongs are the BEST. I don't do this with every movie, either, just ones I really like.

Okay actually I also liked to listen to the same album or, in some cases, the same song over and over until I was sick of it (and sometimes even after that point). I mean, just endlessly looping on repeat. Not interspersed with other songs. I do this as an adult a LOT because it's easier with headphones to do this without annoying everyone else around you. Like, often it's fine for me to just put a playlist on shuffle, but I get into Moods where I just want the one album/song over and over. Yesterday I listened to Wellerman about 50 times in a row and only stopped because I had to get up and do something else and that song wasn't "good" for whatever I got up to do.

My special interest as a kid was cats. Literally everything cats, all the time - I sought out obscure facts and could tell you the difference between similar species, and wanted cats involved in literally everything I did. Adults laughed it off as childhood obsession. I was also pretty obsessed with the solar system. I thought asking my peers, as a trivia question, which of Jupiter's moons had its own asteroid (Io, in case you were wondering) was appropriate and interesting and was confused that they didn't know that. That was in fifth grade.

I watched the weather channel for fun. I would watch it for hours and absorb the weekly forecast info just... for fun? I never used it, could never tell you if you should dress a certain way or bring an umbrella or whatever. Everyone thought it was weird.

I was a know-it-all and literally could not stop myself from bluntly correcting people who were wrong. Didn't know or care that it was "rude". I'm still that way but I've learned how to sometimes swallow the urge long enough to find a more tactful way to point it out (but often fail).

I could read on my own before kindergarten, used vocabulary beyond what one would expect for my age, and had a special interest in spelling and grammar throughout my school years. I did not understand how other people weren't interested in learning about it and getting it right. I read at an undergrad level by 4th grade.

I hated loud noises and often covered my ears to block out irritating sounds. I could also hear high pitched noises that even other kids didn't seem to hear (or at least weren't bothered by them). Too much noise sent me into an internal meltdown, I'd just kinda shut down because I couldn't deal with it.

Textures and pressure on my skin bothered the absolute fuck out of me - sock seams, certain fabric materials, socks that weren't equally elastic, one shoe tighter than the other, tags.... all of that. (Also, fun anecdote I just unlocked - when I was 4 or 5 my grandmother started letting me use the soft silk sleep shirt she had as a young woman because I preferred it to anything else. Soft, smooth, no irritating qualities. Bliss. I wanted to wear it all the time.)

Don't get me started on food. Until I was in COLLEGE I mostly subsisted on pasta with either butter or alfredo sauce and chicken. I would eat other things, but pasta and/or chicken was (and still is) my biggest safe/comfort food. I'd eat other stuff mostly if I could control the balance of ingredients, get it made plain, or could confirm the texture wouldn't be offensive (so, like... plain burgers, plain cheese pizza, grilled cheese, mashed potatoes, etc.) I cannot stress this enough - from childhood through COLLEGE I did this. As a kid my mom had to make me a completely separate dish most nights to get me to eat something. My spouse was horrified at what little variety I ate. The only reason I eat so much variety now is that he knows what I do/don't like and tells me in advance if I'll find a texture or taste offensive. Of course, rather than wanting consistent texture like I did when I was younger, I now seek as much texture as possible (so long as they aren't Bad textures) so.... that's fun. But yeah most of my objections to Yucky foods is due to T E X T U R E. Even if I like the taste, the texture overrides it all.

I prefer animals to people. I will seek out animals and interact with them instead of people in the same room. And will pointedly focus on the animal to avoid interacting with people.

I'm perfectly happy with only myself for company. Being with just my spouse counts as me being "alone" though. Always has. I just realized last night that it's because I do minimal to no masking around him because he's a safe person to unmask with and always has been. Never batted an eye at the weird shit I do beyond asking questions about what I was doing or why. And then just "Okay."

Okay honestly just the fact that I want to vent into the void of tumblr instead of actually discussing this with a person - even my spouse! - pretty effectively shows how little it occurs to me to interact with other people directly. o_0

And there are so many more things that I won't list here because I could just go on and on. And like, sure, some of this may certainly overlap with ADHD but my point is that I have enough to point to ASD that it doesn't feel like having a "hint" of autism. And who knows - maybe it is mostly just ADHD and CPTSD stuff interacting in weird ways. Could be!

But just because I can make small talk and make eye contact and do the "normal" shit and I can interact "normally" doesn't mean I LIKE it. I had to LEARN to do those things to avoid having bad social interactions. When I'm by myself or with my spouse, I behave very differently than I do around anyone else. ANYONE. It's not just slightly changing my behavior depending on who I'm with - it's completely suppressing how I naturally would do things if left to my own devices.

Like, the things we recommended to our autistic students who wanted to know how to interact in ways that would help them blend in/be accepted by others ARE THE EXACT THINGS I ALREADY DO. Like, it did not occur to me at the time that neurotypicals literally do not have to think about doing those things. I thought, ah, these students just need to be told what the tricks are. Other people figure these tricks out on their own. It did not occur to me that other people, in fact, do not learn these tricks because they naturally do that behavior. They do not have to actively think about learning the trick, period. I literally thought other people also have to think as hard as I do about interactions. Evidently not.

So yeah, I'm feeling a little upset about the reaction I got from him because I'm like.... honestly, a diagnosis of ASD wouldn't change a lot about how I do things or think of things. But it would make me feel better about interacting with and participating in autism-related stuff if I am actually autistic. I realize I can use the resources and supports meant for ASD regardless, and for formal supports anything I can access due to my ADHD diagnosis likely covers anything I'd need for ASD. But having a diagnosis opens up more community. Right now I'm like yeah I'm ADHD but I totally relate to this ASD content. But I'm not going to interact much because I feel like I don't have the right to join in since idk if I do have ASD.

idk I have a lot of feelings. I had a bad email about the trans insurance coverage thing yesterday and I'm not in a great headspace, but finding out me and my spouse both scored very high on the autism screening stuff was honestly a high point because we ended up sharing a lot of how we view and interact with the world that was very eye-opening about why we interact the way we do, how we relate to others (and how other people think we're weird for how we relate to others), and just...everything. And having someone be skeptical after I've spent a lot of time trying to convince myself that I DON'T have ASD only to conclude that at the very least, I should probably be evaluated because I can't reasonably rule it out. Like, most people do not wonder if they have autism. The fact that I am spending this much time looking into it and trying to find examples to disprove it only to find I overwhelmingly can't in virtually every single diagnostic category.... just..... dismissing it outright is kinda hurtful.

Like, I recognize that ADHD symptoms overlap a fair bit, but seriously. My spouse (who definitively does not have ADHD) scored almost identically to me and we vibed on almost everything when we compared answers. We see most things similarly. We have similar areas of confusion about other people and for fundamentally similar reasons. I can't imagine all of the stuff that points to ASD for me is just ADHD in disguise, not when I vibe THAT HARD with someone else. Spouse does not vibe with me on ADHD content. At all. He can appreciate it since he does live with me, after all, and observes whatever's being discussed. But he doesn't vibe with it. He vibes with autism content, though. And I vibe with both.

idk this rant ended in rambling and I'm just going to go listen to Inside on repeat for a couple hours while I try to calm down a bit. o_0

#rant over #for now #I've actually been listening to Inside for the last twenty minutes already lol #maybe I'll try to nap #idk #blergh #yay Shit is playing now and I'm like LOL cause I did wake up at 11:30 feeling like shit #woot #what a bop #I'm like hell yeah you get it #let's vibe

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psychingmyselfup · 4 years ago

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Hii I was wondering if you have any tips on how to balance studying and kids? Like...I try so hard but I just cannot study with my little girl (2) in the house.

Hi! I’m still trying to figure this out, myself haha, but these are some things that have helped me a little, and hopefully might help someone else too.

- Setting small, manageable chunks of work for the hours I know my kids will be asleep. For me, this is usually 9pm-11pm (sometimes earlier, but I need to get housework done and tidy up once my little tornados go to sleep), so I will block out 30 min intervals to work on certain assignments, recorded lectures, readings etc. If I look at a large list of all the things I need to do, I will become overwhelmed and feel like I will never catch up with only a couple hours each night. Having a ‘breadcrumb trail’ of small goals keeps me focused on what I CAN do manageable instead of worrying about what I CAN’T do.

- Use any break you am offered to get out of the house to do your studies. If I stay in the home to try work on assignments or do bulk numbers of lectures, it will never get done. Being physically somewhere else does wonders for productivity. You don’t need to be out for long, so long as when you DO go out it’s time well spent.

- When you can’t get away to focus on studies, set up an area that you only use to do study that’s as quiet as possible. I converted my sewing area (desk in my son’s room - he doesn’t sleep in there so it’s basically a spare room) into a study area, and I’ve tried to create a sort of conditioned environment by only using the desk to study, so when I go in and sit down it becomes an automatic response to get on with my assignments etc.

- For days when you just aren’t getting a break, going out isn’t an option, and you don’t have another set of hands on deck to help with the kid(s)...screen time and snacks. I’ll set the kids up with a youtube playlist, pack them a lunchbox on a picnic blanket in the living room. I have to sit with them, because something about sitting a desk makes them automatically request everything they can think of, need a billion cuddles and kisses for owwies etc. It’s like they know I need to focus! So I get a little nesting table, sit on the floor next to them, and will do lectures and type up my notes while they’re eating. I can sometimes manage a solid 20 mins at a time before they need assistance, which allows me to get through the bulk of my lectures during the day. I don’t have any great advice on writing assignments or doing focused revision with kids around as I find it impossible!

- Noise-cancelling headphones and a willingness to let them do whatever and make whatever mess so long as you can get through the day. The number of times I have let the kids draw on the windows with crayons so I can quickly finish up a reading or lecture...can’t count on one hand, that’s for sure!

I think also one of the big contributors to parental stress when studying is guilt. Every time we spend a day studying, we feel bad that we didn’t give that time to our kids. Every time we spend the day doing activities with the kids or putting their needs first, we feel like we are neglecting our studies or wasting an opportunity. It’s easier said than done in practice, but having some grace for yourself on the days where you feel like you just can’t get it right is so important. I have a little mental checklist for myself every night: -Did my kids smile and laugh today? -Did they get fed? -Have they gone to sleep safe and warm? -Did I do one thing for my studies, even if it was just reading one page in a book or listening to my lecture podcast in double sleep while doing the dishes? If I can say yes, then I have done enough. Some days, you don’t even need to do the last one! I just find that my philosophy is do small steps constantly, so the bigger steps are more like medium steps.

No matter what, it’s always going to be a juggling act and not a perfectly balanced scale. Plus, 2 year olds really don’t make life easy in general. I feel your pain! I promise 3 is a little easier (you can bribe them and reason with them so.much.more! You’ve got this, and I believe in you!

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hereyougopeanutbutter · 4 years ago

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Winners

Pony stays in the other section of the building. She said it was a different Panda division but when I asked her what it looked like she texted back ‘worktables with beds, there are about 24 others and no one talks’

The same as in my section. There are 20 of us. And about 50 writing tables. I’m in the front on the left, close to the door. The walls are covered with brown wooden panels dating back to the previous century I believe, in the corner long rectangle speakers and on the front wall two ShunSha LED screens which tell us the weather and switch to the Panda statement, our commitment to Panda and the recognition we will get if we get through. I turn my eyes away. I better focus on what I need to do.

In the morning, they serve breakfast on the side of the room, on large tables. White and brown bread with marmalade, peanut butter, and chocolate sprinkles with butter on shelves. Slices of cheese and bacon in plastic containers. Same at noon. For supper, big pans of stew are rolled in, with whitebread and spoons.

We are not allowed to go to the sleeping section after 8.30 am. In the evenings, everybody crashes on their beds, grabs their cell phones, some bottles of alcohol or other drinks, some smoke cigarettes from the windows in the toilets. I don’t pay attention to them, most of the time I’m in bed right after 8 pm.

In the morning I eat my sandwich, I like the marmalade and I eat a sandwich while I prepare a peanut butter and gelly one for while I’m working. It’s not allowed but they let me. I also keep my phone with me while working.

“Reached 40,000” Pony texted, “revision going well?”

“Edited up to six chapters, think I’m going to make it.”

“Good. Good. Think of you, go go go Pigtails, love you”

“Need help?”

But Ponytail doesn’t answer. 40,000 words and only 3 more weeks to go.

In the morning the fear that filled my heart the evening before comes up almost instantly when I wake up. I dreamt about her, how we were swimming in the roaring waters of the Mississippi. “M-I-S-S-I-S-S-P-P-I,” she said as water gulped in her mouth. “Pony, you need to swim, cut the crap” I shouted. “M-I-S-S…” but she didn’t get any further, the part of the river was loud and I had a hard time pulling her up above the water and keeping alive myself.

My little sister, Justine, the tiny baby born when I was four. Her body frame stayed small and frail. When she was young she started calling me Pigtails instead of Amanda. I liked pigtails in my hair. Tamara became Pinky, Tamara loved her pink leggings. She asked Justine how we should call her and Justine fluttered the peaking hair on her head. Mom had tried to created ponytails on either side of her head. “Ponytails!” And from that moment on we were there, ponytails, pigtails and pinky, later Pony, Pig and Pinky.

“You’ll get it done?” I text. The ward comes in slamming the bell and just to avoid the noise everybody walks to their working tables to start up their word processors, ugly old Dynamics. Mine hums during the day, I listen to it as the clicking of my keys moves along.

“Get started sunshines, poop out the books and go for the million!” the ward shouted as loud as he could over the bell. “People are anxious for your books, com’on, we’re halfway there, three more weeks!”

My phone buzzes “I might”.

On the wall the screen turns on, bright white, two of them showing one image, the table with the chair, cut in half by the black plastic borders of the SunShu. But we know. Fear sets in the group, we all look around and count. We are still with 20. It must be from the other group. I look at my phone but the ward is still close and he might see me. My fingers slowly tick on the screen ‘y-o-u 0-k-a-y?’ and press send. Pony sends back a ‘y’

The Panda declaration about how we signed up for writing the next bestseller comes up. How we committed to a good sellable story and how the first draft was due in 6 weeks with at least 100,000 words. Panda would help us. Panda guarantees sales of 50,000 copies to all Panda members around the world and oh just so you know Panda has 31,000 active daily accounts. Daily

“We will change your life” it then said. One sentence. “And you agreed we could have it if you fail”

I don’t recognize the person. She fights the two men who hold her upper arms, we hear ‘No, no!’ but the men guide her to a table where her head is pushed down on the table. A third person behind the chair walks up and pushes the muzzle again the back of her neck. I close my eyes and try not to hear the echoing bang.

My editing work goes in trembling episodes that day. The killings. The killing is a condition. Panda’s idea of motivating. I think of my mother. I think of Pinkytail and Ponytail, Pinky who went into options trading, and Pony who said she could write a winning Panda book but said last week she was struggling, I can’t worry about her because I need to get my book done.

This is my second run. I got through the first run and went home. They all hugged me. The money, Panda’s money was in my bank account already, 99,000 dollars. Pinky hugged me and we both cried. We didn’t tell Pony but let her tag along when we picked up mom’s wheelchair, the three of us in the truck, singing and laughing. Pony cried when I paid for the wheelchair in the store, asking ‘where did you get the money, where did you get it?’ and I said I finished a Panda session. Pony burst out in crying. Couldn’t stop. Even in the car home she kept saying ‘That’s where you were, I was wondering what happened. You could have been killed Pigs, don’t ever do that again!” But I hugged her and we both cried. We bought cranberries at the farm store and we ate ice cream on the bench, we overlooked the land and the sun shone, we looked at each other and there was nothing more than love and gratitude. They didn’t know I had already signed up to go back. The edited version – once approved by Panda – would pay me $499,999.-.

Enough to buy mom and all of us a new future. We could move.

The next day, I wake up refreshed. I am not sure what has caused this but I decide to take the sweep of energy and get to work at my desk. The others complain and wipe their eyes, two of them pout about not hitting their targets but I block it out. Two double sandwiches, one with cheese and bacon, the other a peanut butter and gelly sit on my desk. I work through two chapters stringently blocking out the ward with the bell, blocking out my hunger and my tea getting cold. I read the words and weigh them in my head, re-create sentences and my muse works in the background, it’s just him and me. When I take a sip of my tea I notice it’s cold. I take a bite of my sandwich, afraid I will lose the zone I’m in if I eat more. I write like I did when I was younger, pumping out words that came to mind, the movie continued endlessly and went as fast as my fingers could keep up. For my mom. My mom, I see her at her sewing machine, winding a bobbin and working on my favorite blouse.

Before lunch I have 8 chapters done. They bring in the lunch, the bread, the bacon, and the cheese. I ate my breakfast about an hour ago but I’m hungry again.

“They brought me in,” Pony’s text says.

My hands tremble. Pony got her warning. “How far are you?”

“40k”

I look at my phone. She was at 40k yesterday, she was supposed to be at at least 50,000 words.

“You said you could do it”

“I’m scared Pigs”

Fear fills my gut. I panic. They read her work last night, they always do. Based on their algorithms they have determined Pony is in the danger zone and she needs to make up at least 50%. There is one next warning. I think of Pinky and the story I was writing on at home.

I looked to the others in my room. Some are comfortable. With headphones in and others biting their nails as they write, some panic, some pound out the words. I text Pony but she doesn’t answer back.

I eat lunch. My brain is on overdrive. I walk around the room, it’s air-conditioned but the weather outside is warm. Then Pinky texts me. I cannot look at my phone at the lunch table when the staff is there so I need to get to my desk. I chew quickly and glob down some tea. I try to make it look casual as I walk to my desk and start to type a document so it seems I’m back to work.

Pinky says: “I sent you the story, does Pony know how to decrypt? If they find out…” I see the paperclip friendly blinking in a corner. I only have to resend it to Pony. But then the door opens and Simone steps in, she looks at me with an iron smile saying ‘Come with me please’. I freeze. The others are silent and I don’t know what’s wrong. I go into the office where I signed my contract with Panda, I remember sitting here, the pen on a chain is still there.

“We are following your progress, Amanda. You are doing very well and we wondering if you’d be done by next week at this pace?”

I look up to Simone. There must have been a beautiful woman at one point I guess. Now she turned older. And less caring.

“Don’t I have 2 more weeks?”

“You do, you do. But we can get in print quicker if you want”, Amanda twists her pencil, “there could be a bonus.”

I’m silent.

“You’ll get 50,000 more”

I overthink the situation. Suddenly I don’t care about the money anymore and grab all my courage “How much does it cost me to get Pony out?”

“And your work is done?”

Is she going to say they’d take my book and we both walk? I would agree. But no matter how hard it is to stay quiet, I say nothing.

Simone doesn’t need to talk this over, she makes the decisions herself. I wonder if she is maybe the manager of Panda Books herself. She says, “Finish her story as well?”

I do the math. Two weeks and some days to finish the story. They read Pony’s story so I have to go with that, I can’t change it. I think.

Panda publishes the “Dead Man’s Anthology”, the stories from the killed authors. Unfinished stories. It sells like crazy, sometimes better than the books of the winners. Panda is in for the money. The killing is a marketing tool for them. They are the only ones with a license from the government on the condition that Panda pays the family of the writers 30%.

If I can’t produce 30,000 words per week I’ll die. With Pony. While we came here to save our mother. Get a better life. If we were to stay over the weekend I’d have to finish my book and write another 5000 words on Pony’s story. My answer not only determines the rest of my life. Pony’s as well. And the rest of the family.

Then Simone looks up. “It looks like you don’t have to decide Amanda, your sister has committed to finishing the story, I just got the message.”

“Committed?”

“She is at work right now and their ward says she’s doing good.”

I leave. Get back to my desk, the others look at me. I was never aware Pony was there until she texted me on the first day, four weeks ago. I was shocked. She said she had hoped she would in my group but Panda put her in the other group. Panda made publishers aware that they had two of the Peterson sisters writing stories and there were betting games on who would sell the best books. But Pony wasn’t a writer. Pinky read hers once and said it was fluff. She wouldn’t survive Panda’s One Million Dollar Writing Camp. But on the first day already had 30 million viewers per day. Sales skyrocketed. Said Pinky.

‘Why are you here?” I asked

“I want to help you. Do what you do”

“You’ll get yourself killed”

“You didn’t get killed.”

And I almost wanted to write ‘I can write’ but I didn’t. I didn’t sleep that first night. My sister Ponytails was here too, I tried not to get sick but it cost me 2 days to stop thinking about Pony.

Pony didn’t answer my texts after my meeting with Simone. I finished my book four days early and Pinky kept me in the loop about the contest on the outside. Bidding was way up in my favor.

I make the last revisions to my story. The bright white screen comes on every day but I ignore it. I push the ear-thing inside my ear every time so I can block it out. I block out the ward in the morning as I revise my story.

Pinky tells me Pony and I are tied. I block that out as well, this is madness, I will never sign up for a Panda writing if we make it out alive.

On the last day, the screen comes on but now it’s black.

We look at each other, 17 left from our group.

From the screen in high definition I can hear Pony ‘I couldn’t make it. Go Pigtails, go’ and the click is silent but deafening. I scream, I cry, They killed Pony? They killed my sister! We were tied!

My book sells well.

Pony’s sells better. It was the only one sold as a separate book. Pony’s share floats into our bank account.

Panda’s show brings in millions.

My family moves. We do get a better house, and my mother gets better. We bury Pony, Pony gave us a better life. Pony outsmarted us all.

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dear-trashpanda · 5 years ago

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Healthy Coping, PT. 1 – Sensory Hypersensitivity

So, I decided to make a series that focuses on different issues that give me a hard time, and I'll give you a detailed account on the techniques, tools and distractions I use to get through the tough times.

I'm planning to go through the following subjects:

Sensory hypersensitivity

Depression

Sleeping problems

Eating problems

Anxiety in various situations

Communication + Social troubles

DID related issues

These are the ones I could think of now, but there might be more coming, if there is something I forgot.

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Part 1: Sensory Hypersensitivity

I have a lot of sensitivities, and while some of them are relatively easy to ignore, others make my life quite difficult/unpleasant. Since I grew up undiagnosed, and thus having to "pass for normal", I built myself a plethora of useful little tricks to survive when the world gets too much. Here they are, I hope you can find some that might help you!

Tactile toys: I have a ridiculously large array of toys I can interact with by touching them. I use clay, slimes, squishes and just different objects I like the texture of. I collect these small items and I keep them at strategic places so I can always have one at hand. How I use them: whenever I feel overwhelmed or just need to self-soothe, I find the texture my hands are craving at the moment and I squeeze/rub/hold them, I close my eyes and focus all my attention on the object I'm holding and the feeling it gives my fingers. This is working great for me because the feeling distracts me from the source of my distress, and the rhythmical movement helps me discharge the tension built up by the distressing situation. My favourite one: I have a little narwhal that has a slow-rising quishy inside covered in a super soft plush surface material. It's the perfect sensory toy for me because it's small, so I can have it with me when I'm out and about, it's pleasant to the touch, and I can give this guy a hard squeeze when I'm anxious, and bask in the joy of it slowly rising back to its original shape.

Noise cancelling headphones/true wireless earbuds: a friend of mine gave me a pair of great active noise cancelling headphones and it turned out to be a life-saver. Sometimes I don't even listen to music, I just have them on to block out the outside world. The only downside of those is that they are huge and bulky, so sneaking around with them is not an option. That's why I got myself a pair of true wireless earbuds. While these don't have ANC, their shape and snug fit makes for a great noise cancelling effect, and they are tiny, so I can have them discreetly on when I'm in a situation I have to get rid of the sounds around me (just the noise level of a store can easily overwhelm me), but it would be considered rude to be wearing headphones, or I can't have them with me for some other reason. They are also practical from a size point of view, since I can have them and their little charging pod in my pockets at all times. How I use them: I usually wear the headphones at home and the earbuds when I'm out and about. I also use a single earbud for sleeping, if I can't listen to my sleep sounds out loud. They are great for music, nature sounds or podcasts, and I can listen on them at a high volume as well, because they don't leak sound, so I'm not disturbing others with them. My favourite one: it's hard to tell, but I tend to use the earbuds more often, because wearing headphones gives me a headache after a while (because it's squeezing on my head), so the earbuds are more practical in that sense, although they can't live up to the sound quality of the headphones, so those are definitely better for music.

Fairy lights: Christmas lights are not just for Christmas! One of my favourite methods of creating soft ambient lighting is hanging garlands of fairy lights on my ceiling. One by one these little bulbs aren't intense enough to bother my eyes, but together they actually provide enough light that you can do basically anything by them. How I use them: I actually hooked them up to a switch socket (dunno if it's universal, but in Scandinavia most electrical outlets come with a safety switch, so you can turn off the power when you're not using them), and I just use them instead of a ceiling lamp. I like the warm white coloured ones the most, but it's entirely up to you and your preferences. My favourite one: I have a chain of fake light bulbs with little LED fairy lights inside them, they look absolutely adorable!

Scented items: smelling things is one of my favourite ways to decompress. Not only do smells bring back the strongest/most vivid memories, they are also the perfect reinforcement of pleasant/calming fantasies. I have scented candles, little pillows filled with lavender, different essential oils and perfumes I use in different situations. How I use them: I like to create positive triggers with smells. For example, if I know I'm going to be relaxing in my room, I spray a bit of my favourite scented humidifier in the air, so the room has a distinct smell while I'm doing the comfy/relaxing thing there, and every time I can no longer smell it, I add another puff. I do this consistently every time I am doing the relax routine, so after a while, a link is formed between the smell and the relaxed mood. Once the link is in place, I can use it as a positive trigger to put myself in a relaxed state just by smelling the same smell. My favourite one: lavenders for relaxing and my citrus body spray for a refreshed, happy mood.

"Easy foods": sometimes the reason I cannot eat is because the intensity/complexity of most foods' taste is overwhelming. For these occasions I've tested out some easy foods that I can still eat even when nothing else goes down. They are usually quite bland, but that's kind of the point... How I use them: If I realise I can't eat other food because of its intensity, I mentally go through the list of the simple tastes, trying to imagine myself eating them and hopefully I find one that would work. If I don't, I just drink some water, and then periodically repeat the exercise until I'm hungry enough so I can make myself eat something simple. My favourite one: rice fried with eggs and veggies. Rice and eggs, it doesn't get much simpler than that. It's warm, it's filling, and if you throw some veggies in there, it's also quite healthy. A little salt and pepper, and it's the perfect simple food.

Bonus round – clothing and shoes: if you are anything like me, you might know the total pain of being distracted the whole day because your shoes are a bit too tight or the fabric of your only clean shirt is rubbing painfully on your skin. I grew up thinking that the world was just a mildly, but constantly unpleasant place, and I was already a grown-up when I learnt that shoes and clothes don't have to hurt. Today, I shop with my fingertips, and I only wear stuff I'm actually comfortable in. I've learnt that I'm not obligated to "look good" for society's sake, and built my wardrobe around comfort and practicality. Important things to consider when you're buying new clothes/shoes: Make sure your skin agrees with the fabric, and don't buy stuff that looks good but drives you crazy with its texture. When buying shoes, remember, they have to be comfy in the store. The whole "you have to break them in" thing is bullshit, if they hurt in the store, they'll always hurt, and you don't want to put up with (potentially permanent) foot/leg/back pain for a pair of good-looking shoes.

I hope some of these tips will work for you and make your life easier. Feel free to add your own sensory relief techniques below!

~TP

#healthy coping skills #recovery #coping mechanism #sensory hypersensitivity #autism help #adhd help #actually autistic

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