#i was told it starts in childhood and i definitely started getting symptoms in high school at the latest

[nexus-nebulae]

me: why do i have such a low pain tolerance nowadays i can't handle anything

also me: is constantly feeling an underlying pain that affects every inch of my body at all times

also me: has a disorder that apparently causes my brain to interpret almost anything as pain Wait pause the post is this why tickling genuinely hurts me??????? like when i get tickled it just Hurts and nothing else????? i thought it was just an autism sensory thing???????

[kittiesjournal]

My Autistic Journey

It is typical to hear from autistic people that they grew up knowing that they were weird, different and out of place with other individuals and in social groups, and I am not excluded from that experience, however I wasn't the most aware of it as I grew up. I thought my differences were simply because I had different interests, hobbies and personality, not that my excessive “shyness”, restrictive and repetitive behaviours and sensory preferences weren’t something that would magically disappear when I got older. I remember having fantasies of how popular I would be when I got to high school… I was so terribly wrong. 

I won't lie, my memory sucks, I have a lot of trouble remembering autistic traits I had experienced in my early childhood. I find myself struggling to remember a lot of things from growing up unless I had paid special attention to those moments in time. However, the first moment I realised that I could be autistic was in Year 10, I spent so much time researching every single symptom I could. This revelation sparked a grand understanding of myself and I finally felt as if I could see myself better. The mirror before was always cloudy but now, I could now clearly see the glimmer in my eyes; a part of my true self. 

Things began to fall into place, this was the reason I felt so alien to the world around me, why I felt like I had never belonged anywhere. The year prior to my revelation; the dreaded year 9, was the worst year in my schooling. With an increase in my anxiety and depression, being bullied and being incredibly disconnected from my friend group at the time, it is no shock to why it was the worst. My social confidence and my skills are definitely lacking due to being autistic however the way i was treated within my old friend group did not help. I was constantly shut down and complained about when I would infodump about my interests, and excluded frequently. Now briefly, i would like to mention a funny little tale of my primary school years;

If I had a dollar for every time i was abandoned by my friends during break times after I had been in the bathroom, then  not being able to find them and ending up crying to my sister, I would have $2, which isn’t a lot but it's weird that it happened twice.

This, in my high school experience, transformed into being excluded from group plans and told things like “omg sorry we forgot to add you to the group chat - we totally will though”. Loneliness was my truest friend in that group. Although I had put on a mask constantly in hopes to be treated the same as the individuals in the group, I ended up, during break times, simply not talking. There would be maybe a couple words in response to questions but that was the first instance in my life my anxiety and uncomfortability caused me to become frequently non (or at least low) verbal. 

In response to my experiences with that friend group, I found myself repressing who I was and what I loved. I am still to this day afraid of info-dumping and often apologise after I catch myself doing it. I mask so much it instead feels fake when I am being my autistic self,  I believe I lost touch with myself. I felt so disconnected from people that it became hard to feel like I was truly friends with anyone. Many nights were spent crying because I am not normal, not like everyone else. I begged the universe to let me be normal. But of course, because im autistic, my brain just wasn’t built ‘normal’, I don’t understand how to socialise, I don’t understand non-verbal communications and don’t even get me started with understanding emotions. I could not understand why I couldn’t bond with people the same way they did with each other and often questioned why everyone was closer with each other than I could ever experience. I know that even now, I don’t think I could ever feel and experience friendship the way everyone does, and I missed out on that crucial part of life. It's like I'm on a different plane of existence, akin to the artificial intelligence in media that other characters may care for but never in the same, human way they bond with each other. Some nights I still cry. Some days I'm still extremely lonely.

In spite of all my troubles and loneliness I was lucky to find some light, in my later years of schooling and to the present time, I have some pretty amazing friends and I am slowly learning how to exist in friendships while being my more authentic autistic self. Weirdly enough, these friends are all likely to be Neurodivergent (i helped them realise) and i guess that makes it easier. Even though I have these amazing friends, I'm still learning how to be myself around them and I still at times feel disconnected - not knowing how to socialise and my other autistic struggles don’t just disappear. There have been many occurrences where I have completely fumbled and messed up in these friendships but they understand me better than any other friends I have had.

Some quick acknowledgements of two important people in my life;

I have had one consistent friend since year 4; my best friend and I am grateful for you, that you’ve been by my side while I've been figuring all of this out. Also I'm sorry that you’ve had to coincide with my autistic self since we were 10 (sorry i made you reenact frozen everyday).

And in addition to friendships, romantic relationships are another terrifying territory. I don’t know the right things to say, how often to talk and how to keep conversations flowing, flirting is a mystery, and I don't know how to show my feelings and at times it may seem harder to tell if I care. But, I promise I will. To my girlfriend, my dearest, I'm sorry and thank you for being kind and patient, for always supporting and encouraging me in all my ‘quirkiness’.

These experiences, my mistakes, help me grow everyday and due to the extensive support of those around me I felt encouraged and confident enough to seek a diagnosis for my autism. However my journey of getting a diagnosis was extremely rocky. The first time I had brought up my thoughts on me being autistic to my mother I was met with a “why” and silence, the second time she asked if I wanted to try and get a diagnosis - I obviously said yes. This began my experience with the company Autism SA. I completed a self-referral application to get an appointment, I was sent paperwork and forms to fill and send back, and was told I would have to be on the waiting list for 18 months. In the end I didn't have to wait the full 18 months, I got my appointment, I went in at 9:30am on the 6th of February and that afternoon I realised this was one of the worst days of my life. They told me I didn't meet the criteria (in the feedback report I received on a later date they wrote that I met none of the criteria - the biggest lie I have ever heard). The appointment was fraudulent, I felt so uncomfortable and anxious because this was something I had never done before with complete strangers, so I masked. They sat me in a room constructed for young children, just me and the speech pathologist and she asked me questions, but nothing too in depth about my autistic experiences. It was obvious she only knew autism as the basic textbook version of male-aligned traits, it was obvious that she; a neurotypical, allistic individual would never understand me. I have many regrets that day, i should have said more about my traits and experiences, shown a list of them, let myself not mask for once in my damn life -  maybe then things would have been different and i would be sitting here writing about how great it is to be able to receive help and be understood. Instead, that afternoon, I cried and cried and cried. For the first time in a while I cried in my mothers arms, I think in that moment she truly understood the autistic me. I had never felt so invalidated and unheard in my life, i felt more depressed and alone than i ever felt just existing as an autistic person in this unfit world. I still feel that way anytime i think about that day for too long, it's hard to write this all down. Autism SA told me it was most likely “just anxiety”, like what many AFAB individuals are told when they are actually autistic, as if my anxiety doesn’t stem from my autistic traits and struggles. 

This terrible moment in my life was of course not the end, life flows on and I had to as well- so I wrote a 5000 word document on all of my autistic traits to prove them wrong (i sent it to the psychologist who had been in charge of my assessment). 

After getting out the frustration and needing to feel validated for my experience, I am in a better state of mind. I read Chloé Hayden’s book Different, Not Less (and watched so many of her YouTube videos) and I felt seen, I felt inspired. So now, in my present self, I am learning to be my truest self, my special interests are accepted; I am creating art everyday and now I'm writing too. I let myself stim in around others and in public, i don't ignore my sensory struggles and instead i make accommodations and seek support for them. I can notice when I am burnt out and I take care of myself when I am. There has been so much I have struggled with in terms of my autism but I can write about those another time, for now this is one step. Now I am and always will be honest about who I am. I am autistic.

[missmentelle]

Why Smart People Believe Stupid Things

If you’ve been paying attention for the last couple of years, you might have noticed that the world has a bit of a misinformation problem. 

The problem isn’t just with the recent election conspiracies, either. The last couple of years has brought us the rise (and occasionally fall) of misinformation-based movements like:

Sandy Hook conspiracies

Gamergate

Pizzagate

The MRA/incel/MGTOW movements

anti-vaxxers

flat-earthers

the birther movement

the Illuminati 

climate change denial

Spygate

Holocaust denial 

COVID-19 denial 

5G panic 

QAnon 

But why do people believe this stuff?

It would be easy - too easy - to say that people fall for this stuff because they’re stupid. We all want to believe that smart people like us are immune from being taken in by deranged conspiracies. But it’s just not that simple. People from all walks of life are going down these rabbit holes - people with degrees and professional careers and rich lives have fallen for these theories, leaving their loved ones baffled. Decades-long relationships have splintered this year, as the number of people flocking to these conspiracies out of nowhere reaches a fever pitch. 

So why do smart people start believing some incredibly stupid things? It’s because:

Our brains are built to identify patterns. 

Our brains fucking love puzzles and patterns. This is a well-known phenomenon called apophenia, and at one point, it was probably helpful for our survival - the prehistoric human who noticed patterns in things like animal migration, plant life cycles and the movement of the stars was probably a lot more likely to survive than the human who couldn’t figure out how to use natural clues to navigate or find food. 

The problem, though, is that we can’t really turn this off. Even when we’re presented with completely random data, we’ll see patterns. We see patterns in everything, even when there’s no pattern there. This is why people see Jesus in a burnt piece of toast or get superstitious about hockey playoffs or insist on always playing at a certain slot machine - our brains look for patterns in the constant barrage of random information in our daily lives, and insist that those patterns are really there, even when they’re completely imagined. 

A lot of conspiracy theories have their roots in people making connections between things that aren’t really connected. The belief that “vaccines cause autism” was bolstered by the fact that the first recognizable symptoms of autism happen to appear at roughly the same time that children receive one of their rounds of childhood immunizations - the two things are completely unconnected, but our brains have a hard time letting go of the pattern they see there. Likewise, many people were quick to latch on to the fact that early maps of COVID infections were extremely similar to maps of 5G coverage -  the fact that there’s a reasonable explanation for this (major cities are more likely to have both high COVID cases AND 5G networks) doesn’t change the fact that our brains just really, really want to see a connection there. 

Our brains love proportionality. 

Specifically, our brains like effects to be directly proportional to their causes - in other words, we like it when big events have big causes, and small causes only lead to small events. It’s uncomfortable for us when the reverse is true. And so anytime we feel like a “big” event (celebrity death, global pandemic, your precious child is diagnosed with autism) has a small or unsatisfying cause (car accident, pandemics just sort of happen every few decades, people just get autism sometimes), we sometimes feel the need to start looking around for the bigger, more sinister, “true” cause of that event. 

Consider, for instance, the attempted assassination of Pope John Paul II. In 1981, Pope John Paul II was shot four times by a Turkish member of a known Italian paramilitary secret society who’d recently escaped from prison - on the surface, it seems like the sort of thing conspiracy theorists salivate over, seeing how it was an actual multinational conspiracy. But they never had much interest in the assassination attempt. Why? Because the Pope didn’t die. He recovered from his injuries and went right back to Pope-ing. The event didn’t have a serious outcome, and so people are content with the idea that one extremist carried it out. The death of Princess Diana, however, has been fertile ground for conspiracy theories; even though a woman dying in a car accident is less weird than a man being shot four times by a paid political assassin, her death has attracted more conspiracy theories because it had a bigger outcome. A princess dying in a car accident doesn’t feel big enough. It’s unsatisfying. We want such a monumentous moment in history to have a bigger, more interesting cause. 

These theories prey on pre-existing fear and anger. 

Are you a terrified new parent who wants the best for their child and feels anxious about having them injected with a substance you don’t totally understand? Congrats, you’re a prime target for the anti-vaccine movement. Are you a young white male who doesn’t like seeing more and more games aimed at women and minorities, and is worried that “your” gaming culture is being stolen from you? You might have been very interested in something called Gamergate. Are you a right-wing white person who worries that “your” country and way of life is being stolen by immigrants, non-Christians and coastal liberals? You’re going to love the “all left-wingers are Satantic pedo baby-eaters” messaging of QAnon. 

Misinformation and conspiracy theories are often aimed strategically at the anxieties and fears that people are already experiencing. No one likes being told that their fears are insane or irrational; it’s not hard to see why people gravitate towards communities that say “yes, you were right all along, and everyone who told you that you were nuts to be worried about this is just a dumb sheep. We believe you, and we have evidence that you were right along, right here.” Fear is a powerful motivator, and you can make people believe and do some pretty extreme things if you just keep telling them “yes, that thing you’re afraid of is true, but also it’s way worse than you could have ever imagined.”

Real information is often complicated, hard to understand, and inherently unsatisfying. 

The information that comes from the scientific community is often very frustrating for a layperson; we want science to have hard-and-fast answers, but it doesn’t. The closest you get to a straight answer is often “it depends” or “we don’t know, but we think X might be likely”. Understanding the results of a scientific study with any confidence requires knowing about sampling practices, error types, effect sizes, confidence intervals and publishing biases. Even asking a simple question like “is X bad for my child” will usually get you a complicated, uncertain answer - in most cases, it really just depends. Not understanding complex topics makes people afraid - it makes it hard to trust that they’re being given the right information, and that they’re making the right choices. 

Conspiracy theories and misinformation, on the other hand, are often simple, and they are certain. Vaccines bad. Natural things good. 5G bad. Organic food good. The reason girls won’t date you isn’t a complex combination of your social skills, hygiene, appearance, projected values, personal circumstances, degree of extroversion, luck and life phase - girls won’t date you because feminism is bad, and if we got rid of feminism you’d have a girlfriend. The reason Donald Trump was an unpopular president wasn’t a complex combination of his public bigotry, lack of decorum, lack of qualifications, open incompetence, nepotism, corruption, loss of soft power, refusal to uphold the basic responsibilities of his position or his constant lying - they hated him because he was fighting a secret sex cult and they’re all in it. 

Instead of making you feel stupid because you’re overwhelmed with complex information, expert opinions and uncertain advice, conspiracy theories make you feel smart - smarter, in fact, than everyone who doesn’t believe in them. And that’s a powerful thing for people living in a credential-heavy world. 

Many conspiracy theories are unfalsifiable. 

It is very difficult to prove a negative. If I tell you, for instance, that there’s no such thing as a purple swan, it would be very difficult for me to actually prove that to you - I could spend the rest of my life photographing swans and looking for swans and talking to people who know a lot about swans, and yet the slim possibility would still exist that there was a purple swan out there somewhere that I just hadn’t found yet. That’s why, in most circumstances, the burden of proof lies with the person making the extraordinary claim - if you tell me that purple swans exist, we should continue to assume that they don’t until you actually produce a purple swan. 

Conspiracy theories, however, are built so that it’s nearly impossible to “prove” them wrong. Is there any proof that the world’s top-ranking politicians and celebrities are all in a giant child sex trafficking cult? No. But can you prove that they aren’t in a child sex-trafficking cult? No, not really. Even if I, again, spent the rest of my life investigating celebrities and following celebrities and talking to people who know celebrities, I still couldn’t definitely prove that this cult doesn’t exist - there’s always a chance that the specific celebrities I’ve investigated just aren’t in the cult (but other ones are!) or that they’re hiding evidence of the cult even better than we think. Lack of evidence for a conspiracy theory is always treated as more evidence for the theory - we can’t find anything because this goes even higher up than we think! They’re even more sophisticated at hiding this than we thought! People deeply entrenched in these theories don’t even realize that they are stuck in a circular loop where everything seems to prove their theory right - they just see a mountain of “evidence” for their side. 

Our brains are very attached to information that we “learned” by ourselves.

Learning accurate information is not a particularly interactive or exciting experience. An expert or reliable source just presents the information to you in its entirety, you read or watch the information, and that’s the end of it. You can look for more information or look for clarification of something, but it’s a one-way street - the information is just laid out for you, you take what you need, end of story. 

Conspiracy theories, on the other hand, almost never show their hand all at once. They drop little breadcrumbs of information that slowly lead you where they want you to go. This is why conspiracy theorists are forever telling you to “do your research” - they know that if they tell you everything at once, you won’t believe them. Instead, they want you to indoctrinate yourself slowly over time, by taking the little hints they give you and running off to find or invent evidence that matches that clue. If I tell you that celebrities often wear symbols that identify them as part of a cult and that you should “do your research” about it, you can absolutely find evidence that substantiates my claim - there are literally millions of photos of celebrities out there, and anyone who looks hard enough is guaranteed to find common shapes, poses and themes that might just mean something (they don’t - eyes and triangles are incredibly common design elements, and if I took enough pictures of you, I could also “prove” that you also clearly display symbols that signal you’re in the cult). 

The fact that you “found” the evidence on your own, however, makes it more meaningful to you. We trust ourselves, and we trust that the patterns we uncover by ourselves are true. It doesn’t feel like you’re being fed misinformation - it feels like you’ve discovered an important truth that “they” didn’t want you to find, and you’ll hang onto that for dear life. 

Older people have not learned to be media-literate in a digital world. 

Fifty years ago, not just anyone could access popular media. All of this stuff had a huge barrier to entry - if you wanted to be on TV or be in the papers or have a radio show, you had to be a professional affiliated with a major media brand. Consumers didn’t have easy access to niche communities or alternative information - your sources of information were basically your local paper, the nightly news, and your morning radio show, and they all more or less agreed on the same set of facts. For decades, if it looked official and it appeared in print, you could probably trust that it was true. 

Of course, we live in a very different world today - today, any asshole can accumulate an audience of millions, even if they have no credentials and nothing they say is actually true (like “The Food Babe”, a blogger with no credentials in medicine, nutrition, health sciences, biology or chemistry who peddles health misinformation to the 3 million people who visit her blog every month). It’s very tough for older people (and some younger people) to get their heads around the fact that it’s very easy to create an “official-looking” news source, and that they can’t necessarily trust everything they find on the internet. When you combine that with a tendency toward “clickbait headlines” that often misrepresent the information in the article, you have a generation struggling to determine who they can trust in a media landscape that doesn’t at all resemble the media landscape they once knew. 

These beliefs become a part of someone’s identity. 

A person doesn’t tell you that they believe in anti-vaxx information - they tell you that they ARE an anti-vaxxer. Likewise, people will tell you that they ARE a flat-earther, a birther, or a Gamergater. By design, these beliefs are not meant to be something you have a casual relationship with, like your opinion of pizza toppings or how much you trust local weather forecasts - they are meant to form a core part of your identity. 

And once something becomes a core part of your identity, trying to make you stop believing it becomes almost impossible. Once we’ve formed an initial impression of something, facts just don’t change our minds. If you identify as an antivaxxer and I present evidence that disproves your beliefs, in your mind, I’m not correcting inaccurate information - I am launching a very personal attack against a core part of who you are. In fact, the more evidence I present, the more you will burrow down into your antivaxx beliefs, more confident than ever that you are right. Admitting that you are wrong about something that is important to you is painful, and your brain would prefer to simply deflect conflicting information rather than subject you to that pain.

We can see this at work with something called the confirmation bias. Simply put, once we believe something, our brains hold on to all evidence that that belief is true, and ignore evidence that it’s false. If I show you 100 articles that disprove your pet theory and 3 articles that confirm it, you’ll cling to those 3 articles and forget about the rest. Even if I show you nothing but articles that disprove your theory, you’ll likely go through them and pick out any ambiguous or conflicting information as evidence for “your side”, even if the conclusion of the article shows that you are wrong - our brains simply care about feeling right more than they care about what is actually true.  

There is a strong community aspect to these theories. 

There is no one quite as supportive or as understanding as a conspiracy theorist - provided, of course, that you believe in the same conspiracy theories that they do. People who start looking into these conspiracy theories are told that they aren’t crazy, and that their fears are totally valid. They’re told that the people in their lives who doubted them were just brainwashed sheep, but that they’ve finally found a community of people who get where they’re coming from. Whenever they report back to the group with the “evidence” they’ve found or the new elaborations on the conspiracy theory that they’ve been thinking of (“what if it’s even worse than we thought??”), they are given praise for their valuable contributions. These conspiracy groups often become important parts of people’s social networks - they can spend hours every day talking with like-minded people from these communities and sharing their ideas. 

Of course, the flipside of this is that anyone who starts to doubt or move away from the conspiracy immediately loses that community and social support. People who have broken away from antivaxx and QAnon often say that the hardest part of leaving was losing the community and friendships they’d built - not necessarily giving up on the theory itself. Many people are rejected by their real-life friends and family once they start to get entrenched in conspiracy theories; the friendships they build online in the course of researching these theories often become the only social supports they have left, and losing those supports means having no one to turn to at all. This is by design - the threat of losing your community has kept people trapped in abusive religious sects and cults for as long as those things have existed. 

[chronicallybeee]

I was wondering, if it’s not too much trouble, how old were you when you got diagnosed with EDS? Was it obvious or what tipped you off that you might have it? (Asking for me lol)

hiiii! so long story but i was technically diagnosed at 21 by a rheumatologist (which was pure luck), but i had a diagnosis of “ligament laxity” at 13ish.

it wasn’t super obvious at first glance because it was just something i’d dealt with my entire life. i had constant injuries growing up- i was a basketball player and cross country runner and there was never a day i didn’t have an injury. i had party tricks, like subluxing my hips and shoulders on command and stuff like that and i was weirdly flexible, but not my muscles, it was my joints (which is all stuff i realized much much later lol)

when i was 19ish, the symptoms of my autoimmune disease started, so i went to a doctor and they started all the testing.

my autoimmune disease is seronegative- so it doesn’t show up on antibody tests or anything. the only markers in my blood that showed up positive (until recently lol) was high as fuck inflammatory markers (C reactive protein and sedimentation rate). my doctor was incredible, she was primary care at the student health center at my college but she did so much testing before sending me to rheumatology. she immediately thought autoimmune because of my symptoms, the inflammatory markers, and i’m the 4th generation of my family with an autoimmune disease (my dad, my grandpa, my great grandpa, and multiple aunts/uncles of mine). so they did blood tests and X rays and a colonoscopy (my calprotectin was literally 1.3 units into the “abnormal” range so they MADE me do it) until 2020.

the findings weren’t at all conclusive or definitive. i have a hiatal hernia (common with EDS), slow digestion, really bad GERD. my X rays were negative besides by SI joint, which showed a little bit of sclerosis on one joint, but my MRI was negative. then the pandemic reared its ugly ass head and everything kinda stalled because no more doctor’s appointments and i had absolutely no answers for the pain or the inflammatory markers.

at this point, my friend with EDS was like “bestie are you flexible?” and i was like haha fuck no and then she looked at my joints and she was like “..bro they all hyperextend” and then i fell down the rabbit hole and was like oh fuck lol

so i realized a lot of my symptoms aligned with EDS, and i realized a lot of the “weird shifting feelings” in my joints were subluxations and i remembered… so much shit from my childhood. and all the party tricks people in my family can do, and i asked my dad if he ever experienced subluxations and he has and says “yeah that’s like normal though i just work through it” and i’m like ???? bro WHAT that’s not normal!!!

i almost like,, “gaslit” myself and kept saying “no i don’t have that i’m just dramatic” but i meet criteria and it’s pretty obvious now that i know more about it lol

so i moved permanently to my college town so i got a new rheum and he told me i have EDS visit #1, put it in my file visit #2, and i got a referral to an amazing physical therapist who does amazing work with hypermobility and pain neuroscience education.

unfortunately, no one found the reason for my raised inflammatory marker until the end of 2021, when my rheum left the practice and i saw another rheum.

by that point, i’d had an undetected and unmedicated autoimmune disease wreaking havoc on my poor SI joint and that shit sucked lol

then i went to a geneticist SIMPLY because i wanted to fucking get a connective tissue disorder genetic testing and she said “you have an autoimmune disease so you don’t meet criteria” and didn’t run a single genetic test even though i had tons of symptoms and the autoimmune disease was the only thing that “disqualified” me. even though autoimmune diseases literally are comorbid with EDS sooo often. i hate geneticists.

i did the connective tissue disorder genetic panel with invitae to make sure i didn’t have one of the types that have a genetic marker, and i didn’t have any of those genes, but i do have a mutation on a collagen gene which is a mutation “of uncertain clinical significance”

loooong story but yeah lol feel free to ask more questions if you have any!!

[gr-book-worm-1818]

I might be neurodivergent but like ??? (LONG)

hey so like, I’ve been thinking. am I neurodivergent? (and before you tell me to get a diagnosis I desperately want to get one I swear but I’m a minor and my parents would never let me, plus I’m concerned about finances and what they’ll think of me so that’s off the list. I honestly just. really want answers and advice!) so here’s the thing. first off, let me start by saying I’m already pretty sure I have anxiety---not as intense as it gets but it’s definitely there. like that’s what I’m sure of...at least I think I am (which should already tell you I’m not really sure of THAT to begin with but that’s for a whole nother time). 

I’ve only just started looking into neurodivergent stuff recently and it’s been one heck of a ride already. I’m not really sure where to start so I’m sorry if this is formatted weirdly or something, I don’t mean to cause confusion! 

basically, after looking at the symptoms of autism and adhd (mainly adhd) and looking back at my childhood, I exhibited a lot of the symptoms (and I don’t mean like, a shit gremlin toddler, I mean like kindergarten all the way up to middle school until right before high school). [disclaimer: I know neurodivergence is something you are born with and not obtained, by ‘kindergarten all the way up to middlde school’ I mean that’s when I first remember having experienced the symptoms]. my hands always had to be doing something, I was incredibly impatient, sometimes I couldn’t sit still, I tried changing the topic a lot when I had to apologize to people, I didn’t think about the consequences of my actions, my voice often came out louder than I meant for it to (I even got into an argument with my middle school friends about this because when we were in a call they got mad at me for screaming a lot). I also had a special interest (I’m not sure if this counts but I’m saying it anyway)---this game. It was basically all I could talk about. there were a lot of other symptoms I had too that I didn’t notice at the time, but unfortunately I’ve forgotten a few (watch me remember them right when I post this.) [I also think you should know that I’ve also been described as a gifted kid a lot---good grades usually came easy to me and I was never not in the honors, which is part of the reason I’m doubting if I MIGHT be neurodivergent]. but I thought, it was probably just a childhood thing (completely disregarding the fact that I did not know anybody else who did those things in their own childhoods).

then I learned about masking. and realized I probably had anxiety.  what if I’ve been masking? or what if my neurodivergency (IF I even have it) resulted in anxiety which then forced me to mask it??? I’m hyper aware of how I act at all times. I’m scared of putting my music at a high volume and just vibing because what if someone is calling me and I don’t hear and they get mad? (back to the symptoms thing, when I was younger I did zone out a lot and forget I was supposed to do stuff and, you guessed it, put my headphones at a high volume resulting in me getting scolded). [also just a disclaimer, please don’t blame either of my parents for this, they’re both amazing and I love them but genuinely I don’t think they would understand if I told them any of this] whenever I’m given something I could drop like a glass of milk I drink it immediately to ensure that I don’t drop it or accidentally knock it over or something. 

here’s where some *social anxiety* but also *I want friends very very badly* comes in. hooray! /sarcastic 

I used to be incredibly social when I was in middle school---I was friends with basically everyone. it’s like being social was as easy as breathing to me. but now? well, I noticed that most of the time I can barely talk to people anymore (even my mom has noted this and said I’m like a ‘loner’ now). I think it’s important to note that I was never bullied; we never really had bullies at any of the schools I went to; the closest thing to ‘bullying’ we ever had was playful teasing. anyway, back to the social thing---I noticed that sometimes, very rarely but sometimes, if for example I’m in a group project, I’ll talk a lot and joke around a lot and be extremely energetic and friendly around those people---I’ll feel great, if not a little exhausted at the end of the day because of how active I was. but the next day? well, wouldn’t ya know, the very next day I’m back to my awkward, socially anxious self, probably overthinking if the people I was energetic around the previous time now think I’m weird. 

I also noticed that I tend to get really excited around people I find cool and wanna be close with, if that makes sense? like on the first day of school, I met our new english teacher and he seemed soooo cool and nice and COOL and we were supposed to introduce ourselves and do this activity, and when he got to me I read out what I wrote and when I was done I realized---”oh shit. I talked kinda fast and my voice did NOT come out right.” nobody said anything about it but I could clearly tell the teacher was weirded out by this, so I’ve been hyper aware of how I act in english class ever since because I wanna make a good impression, I don’t want even the TEACHERS to think I’m weird! 

okay so, now I want to expand on the grades thing. first off, I know neuerodivergent people can be smart and have good grades---I never doubted that for a second. but like I said, I’ve always mostly fit the gifted kid description---well, in middle school I did. now, in highschool, I’m more burnt-out gifted kid (and, news flash, I constantly get mad at myself about it because how can I be burnt-out if I’ve barely done anything worthy of said burn-out?). 

secondly, I’ve always considered myself to be very creative and imaginative; ever since I was little, I’ve wanted to be a writer---more specifically, nowadays, I’m thinking more along the lines of director. I have so many ideas and stuff like that, but whenever it’s time to write them down my brain kinda just...goes blank. it was hard for me to even start writing this post even though for the past few days I’ve been thinking about how the heck I should start writing it in the first place. 

now onto my thoughts. ah, my wonderful, wonderful, thoughts /sarcastic. 

I’ve always had A LOT of thoughts. it’s hard for me to shut down my brain whenever it’s time to sleep and stuff, and I’ve actually observed that sometimes I fall asleep to my own thoughts/stories still going on in my head. it’s always been very easy for me to paint a picture of stories in my head. like I said, I’ve always been very creative. 

now, I don’t really know where to go with the rest of this post, so let me just share some random things I did either when I was a kid or things I do now, in case that’ll help/maybe entertain you. 

-when I was a kid, I legit could not sleep unless my parents played a movie in the background; I called it a ‘sleep movie’ (ironically, I’m pretty sure the sleep movies actually made it more difficult to sleep---this one probably just stemmed from my fear of monsters in the dark because I learned about horror stories way too early in life).  -I stim a lot; I’m not sure if this is the exact definition, but if, for example, I’m taking a shower and the hot water suddenly turns excruciatingly cold, my leg will do this stompy thingy and/or my arms are gonna flap. I don’t know though, that might be normal. -sometimes I walk...weirdly. even in public places. or I’m weirdly conscious of how I walk. like maybe I’ll walk like a penguin or something subconsciously. (someone I know once told me I walked ‘like a r*tarded person’)  -I have horrid anger issues. this is part of the “I did stuff without thinking of the consequences of my actions” thing I said earlier; when I was little and I was waiting for something to load on the tablet, for example, I would maybe hit the tablet or smash it against the bed (see? horrible anger issues). I no longer do this because now I am EXTREMELY cautious around electronic devices (especially after my track record of dropping and breaking, what, four devices?)  -now this one is really hard to explain but I feel like it’s important. ever since I was little (I still do this now btw), when I’m bored, I’d take a thing---usually a barbie doll but sometimes a pencil---and then I’d hold it with one hand, hyperfocus on it, and ‘imagine’ something, if that makes sense? like I’d hold the doll and just...zone out and imagine this wild story I made up in my head, often hitting my feet together and shaking the doll and my hands as I would imagine it---my relatives have practically accepted this as normal, which I’m thankful for, though sometimes it still gets joked about (I know it’s all in good fun, though). [Note: I only do this in private---I do not like people watching me do this and never do it when people are around. only when I’m alone in my room do I ever do it.]  -as I’ve gotten older, I noticed I’ve gotten WAY more empathetic. maybe too empathetic, actually. I always try to think about what I would feel in that person’s shoes. what if I were them? I also always try thinking about what their intentions could be (personally I feel like this came with the anxiety). -I overthink a lot. this came in a package deal with the anxiety, of course.  -ew, physical touch. I do not like physical touch. it depends on the person but I almost always despise it, though I can deal with hand holding if it’s someone I trust.  -If someone did something to annoy me, I’ll almost always remember it. I used to use it against them when I was younger, but not anymore---I kinda just remember it, and sometimes I actually take a kind of score and count how many times they’ve upset me, like a red flag counter or something (yet despite all those red flags I never end the friendship because I have no other friends to go to and they’re practically all I have. tsk tsk. incredibly unhealthy, I know).  OKAY, I think that’s it (to be honest there’s probably a LOT of stuff I missed so no that is probably not it). if you wanna ask me about anything feel free to, I really want to get this sorted out and I wanna hear your opinions, is this neurodivergency? am I going insane? I need advice!!!!!!!! 

P.S. if you made it all the way to to the end holy shit thank you so much for sitting through this entire thing. tell me your thoughts and opinions if you can, please and thank you!!!!!!

[heavenunderthemoon]

Dollface

Summary: After the death of her two brother, reader feels as though she must become the perfect child. She reaches her breaking point at a night at Rossi’s. 

Warnings: mentions of suicide, depression, angst Your fingers grabbed at another stray hair, a desperate attempt to make an escape as you smoothed the rest into a nice, sleek ponytail. Grabbing it, you tucked it under the hair tie, breathing deeply through your nose as you stared back at the reflection.

You didn't like staring into the mirror. Staring into the mirror meant seeing your eyes, a rather odd statement when you really thought about it, but the reason you hated it all the same. You had to stare into those brown orbs, brown orbs you had inherited from your mother, and ones she had passed down not only to you, but to Ethan as well.

Ethan.

The name sent a shiver through your body.

He had passed just when you both had turned nine. He had been struggling for a while, ever since you could remember actually. For years, you had accompanied him on doctor appointments, consults after consults. Alex Blake was no quitter, and she had fought tooth and nail to find someone- anyone- to save her boy. In the end she hadn't succeeded. He had passed in his bed, only a couple feet away from you. Sometimes you could still hear her sobs, her wails of agony after she had found him, a mother losing her son, her baby. Sometimes it felt as though you had lost her that day too.

You forced the tips of your mouth to lean upward, the motion looking so foreign on your face that you couldn't help but stare. A smile. A true smile. When was the last time you had one of those? You recalled the time before Ethan started presenting symptoms, a time before his illness, before the unrelenting sadness that ran rampant throughout your house. Before your mother was driven insane, a linguist unable to name the one thing she hated so much, the one thing that took away one of her children. Before your father ran off, escaping to different countries under the guise of Doctors Without Borders. You knew why he really took that position, that he was so driven by his grief of losing Ethan that he ran off to find children he actually could save. And your mother? She didn't get much better. When she had lost Ethan she had lost a part of herself you weren't quite sure she would ever get back. A carefree, laid-back part of her, one that wouldn't run to the emergency room every time you had a cough. One that wouldn't demand an MRI every time you needed a physical checkup. One that didn't watch you so closely, close enough that you could feel her stare on you, whenever you played on the playground with the other children. Before the stares were less loving, more analytical, and every goodbye felt like your last.

Your lips dropped down, eyes remaining on yourself.

Nothing was wrong with you of course, but your mother could never be sure. Losing one child was enough, the fear of losing her second drove her over the edge.

And so, you played along.

You pretended you didn't want to play baseball with the kids in the neighborhood, taking a liking to books instead. You pretended you didn't want to go out, or play in the rain, or step in puddles, or touch frogs. Childhood was non-existent, and for you, that was just how it had to be, because you didn't want to drive her mother any madder than she already was.

Your hands dropped to your sides, smoothing the sides of your pants with your hands, a nervous tick, but comforting nonetheless.

An evening at Rossi's. The invitation alone was enough to make you want to scream.

As awful as it sounded, you hated when your mother was home. Since you had turned seventeen, you were trusted enough to stay home alone when your mother was out on cases, so long as you FaceTimed every night and the neighbors could check on you in the morning. And, with your father away you were left to your own devices. You relished in the feeling of being alone. You liked being able to emerge from your room without that heaviness dragging you down, the weight of your mother's morbid stare, the one that made you think that perhaps you were dying and you just didn't know it, enough to make you feel an onslaught of loneliness. When your mother was gone, you were able to watch tv with the volume all the way up, or order pizzas with extra cheese. You could let the dishes pile up and leave the laundry to fester.

And then when your mother came home it felt like everything in the air was sucked up all over again. Like all the walls were caving in, the world was ending, and once more you were dying.

"Y/N! Time to go!"

You glanced at yourself one more time. Clothes ironed perfectly, a crisp button down tucked into a pleated skirt, hair pinned and proper. A doll. A perfect little doll ready to be played with.

You turned off the bathroom light, grabbing your purse.

"Coming, Mother."

-

"My mom speaks very highly of you all, it's nice to finally meet you." You spoke with a sense of tranquility that the team wasn't quite expecting. Though, to be honest, they weren't precisely sure what to expect when they had caught wind that Alex was finally bringing her daughter to an event. Typically, you were too busy.

Studying for school, babysitting for children around the neighborhood, getting ahead in your classes, attending chess club, book club, anything and everything that had made their lips part, eyebrows furrowing because you were just a child but the way she spoke about you made you seem so...refined. Independent. Not a child.

Your peers had said the same things- behind your back, of course. You didn't have many friends. Being the perfect child didn't give you much time to make those, and you weren't good at it anyways. The teachers had always praised you, admiring you for your perfectionism. Your straight A's, good temperament, and ability to surpass the school's curriculum had you earning your teachers' result rather quickly but it had soon turned to sympathy. They had begun to notice how your posture was always straight, how your pens were always in alignment, how you never spoke unless answering an academic question.

Sometimes, they would watch you, just to see if you would suddenly sneeze and ruin that perfect mirage that you displayed to the world. But you never did, not really. You were a doll. You were picture perfect and they had previously found that quality a little endearing but now they just felt pity, because how many times had that doll felt like she wasn't enough in order to make it appear as so?

Met with enthusiasm, you smiled along as the night progressed, making light conversation with your mother's team. They were nice enough, and you tried not to let along how painful your smiles began to be. It wasn't long before you had excused yourself to a smaller room, bringing out the school work you had brought along to get out of the way.

it was an art project, your least favorite subject. Art, your teacher had stated, is an expression of emotion. There were no rules, no tips, no studying to help you along. Either you had it, or you didn't. You definitely did not.

The noise of the party chattered against your brain as your teeth began their assault against your lip, biting down hard as your eraser grated against the paper once more. With a frustrated grunt, you tried again, the circle coming out just as uneven as the last time.

Spencer must've noticed you out on the patio by yourself. He excused himself from the party, approaching you slowly.

"Hey."

You knew he was being nice. He was mingling and from what you mother had told you about him he didn't do it often so you were trying your very best to not snap at him, your agitation at an all time high due to the failure of your art project.

"Hello."

Your eyes were still on your paper, trying to salvage something- anything- from this artwork but it was futile. Every time you added something it made it worse and every time you removed something it looked empty and you were beginning to get frustrated. You hated art, you wanted to drop it, but it was a requirement. A stupid, useless class, in your opinion (though maybe it was biased due to your inability to do it). Your heart rate quickened at the thought of getting anything lower than an A on this piece. Your grade was already at a 92, that in itself was enough to make your head spin but what if you got a B on this work and it brought your overall grade down? What if you received your first ever B? What would your mother say then?

Spencer was watching you with curious eyes. He saw a bit of himself in you ever since you had arrived, though that isn't all a good thing. He saw an intelligent, capable girl who put far too much pressure on himself. A girl who carried the weight of the world on her shoulders. A girl who refused to ask for help.

And now, your breaths becoming ragged and eyes unfocused, he saw you, really saw you. Your eraser was grinding against there paper and in your anger it ripped it, your lips parting at the action. As bad as it had been this was even worse because now you sound have to start over.

Starting over meant setting you back at least three days in work and you were supposed to have this assignment done by tonight to get ahead for other classes tomorrow.

"Y/N? Y/N you need to breathe, take a break from you're homework, it's okay-"

You had forgotten that Spencer was there in all honesty, but now that he was speaking you whipped toward him.

The words seemed to cut through you like a knife and you shot an incredulous look at the man. "Okay? It's not okay! I can't take a break because I needed to get it done by tonight! I need to write a paper and get ahead in physics so that I can make time for babysitting, and attend lectures, and sit in on mom's classes and-"

Your hands were balled now, clenching into fists and Spencer was reaching for them.

"Look at me, take a breath-"

"This stupid art project, it didn't look good-"

"It looked fine-" Spencer tried, and he could tell that the two of you were attracting attention now because he could feel eyes flitting to the back door windows and he knew for certain that Alex would be here soon but none of it seemed to register for you because your eyes were far too panicked and cheeks too flushed.

"It can't be just fine, it needs to be perfect!" You broke. Your voice was louder than you had ever used with an adult and if you weren't  so far gone in your breakdown you surely would've apologized. The eraser in your hand dropped, fists unclenching to cover your ears because your thoughts were too loud. They were always too loud. Constant planning, scheduling ahead. Worries about your parents, your reputation, your next step. It came crashing over you.

Later, you would realize you were sobbing but for now, you were left to wonder why your throat was so sore.

"Y/N, you need to breathe, okay? Breathe. It doesn't need to be perfect, you're okay-"

Alex was relieving Spencer, and he retreated back into the house with a reassuring nod from Alex. The team sent worried looks, but looked away to give the two of you privacy. You hardly even noticed the change.

"Hey." Alex was taking your hands from your ears, eyes wide. She had never seen you like this, never seen you so distraught and it scared her. It terrified her to see you in such a state because, clearly, you weren't okay and you hadn't been for a while and how did she miss this? It scared her because ever since she could remember you had been such an easy child. A child who didn't ask for help, a child who didn't cry, who didn’t yell, who didn't ask for things. And was that a result of her?

"Hey, look at me. Look at me." Her finger was going under your chin, forcing it upward, forcing your eyes on hers and she was accentuating her breaths, making you take them with her. "What's going on, hm? Whats' going on, talk to me."

Maybe it was the softness in her tone, or the woe in your eyes, or maybe it was just exhaustion from constantly trying to be...everything and anything your mother could ask for, but you chose to tell the truth.

"I have to be perfect." And it was quiet. You could hear the water fountain somewhere far to your left, something Rossi apparently had put in two years ago, but you couldn't see it over the hedges. Alex rose a brow, not understanding and so you continued.  "I have to be perfect...for you."

And the Blake woman was gasping because how could her daughter even think that? How could she not see that her daughter was thinking that? "Honey, no-"

But you weren't letting her finish. "Yes, I do. I have to be the perfect child because you lost the other one. And I," You swallowed, sighing softly. "I can't be him for you."

"W-what?"

"Ever since he died I- he-...you were different. You and Dad both were, and I just wanted to make you happy so I tried to be good, I tried to be the best kid so that you wouldn't feel any sadder than you did."

"Oh, baby, you didn't have to do that-"

"Yes I did. When he died it was like every time you looked at me I was already dead I just didn't know it.  I've been dead for years. I think I might've died with him."

And you were breathing steadily now. You chest wasn't as tight, your mind wasn't as foggy but now your eyes were filled with tears. You cried because you had wanted to say these words for so long, you had wanted your mother back for an eternity snd now she was listening, now you were going to surrender yourself to imperfection.

"I never meant to make you feel like that, please-"

The tears fell across your cheeks, splayed out like a beautiful painting, a masterpiece created by you, a girl who thought that she was a horrible artist. Perhaps you weren't as horrible as you thought.

"I wish it was me instead of him. Because I can't take it. I can't keep doing this-"

Alex was shaking her head, gripping your cheeks in her hands now, because the words you were saying made it sound like she might lose you, made it sound like you might just dissolve under her touch. And all she felt right now was dread. "Don't say that."

"The classes, the perfectionism, I'm...I'm just so tired."

"Baby, please. I'm, I'm so sorry." And that thought entered your mind once more, that perhaps you were a wonderful little artists because kneeling before you now was a tragically beautiful piece of art. A grieving mother, wet cheeks piling up by the minute, eyes filled with some kind of morose morbidity and that was something you had created.

"I'm a perfect little girl in a perfect little house. We all play pretend that Ethan didn't exist-"

"Y/N Y/M/N." Alex was trying, begging you to stop because it hurt. It pained her because Ethan died of something no one knew about but you? You were dying because of her.

"It's alright. I'm just so tired of all the pretending. I wish Ethan and I could swap places, because then he could be playing pretend and I can just...relax."

Where to go from here? The two of you sat on that patio under the watch of the stars, under the protection of the moonlight. What might happen when the sun touched your faces once more?

You doll wasn't so perfect anymore. Perhaps she would never be again.

TAGLIST: @bubblyabs @spencer-blake-supremacy 

[aggressive-positivity-network]

Have you ever felt like you were faking being neurodivergent? Past year I’ve been in the process of being tested. Before this and I began my own research about it, and from what my family has said, it’s almost definite that I’m not neurotypical. But my current psychologist/psychiatrist don’t seem to believe me. They’ve both pushed back testing and they’d told me my issues are solely from childhood trauma. When I mention I showed signs since I was a toddler or how during my childhood my teachers wanted me tested, they brush me off. My psychiatrist acts like I’m a pill junkie and my psychologist downplays my symptoms by using the term autistic features, and how I’m not truly autistic. I don’t want to be disabled, but I believe there’s always been something different about me that isn’t explained by my childhood experiences. I’m really scared I’m being seen as a hypochondriac, especially since I’m well versed with learning disabilities.

I know how you feel.

Especially when I started embracing my symptoms - stimming, high empathy, less spoons for socializing - I started wondering if I was just copying some of the symptoms because I knew so much about autism. My mom even asked me once if I was stimming on purpose or not.

However, over time, I’ve realized that mental illness is hard to fake, whether you are “pretending” to have it or you are masking for the public’s benefit. Whether you know much about it or not, it’s difficult to fake symptoms. Take one look at TikTok and you’ll see loads of videos of people trying to convince people they have something for clout, only to get shot down by people who have half a brain.

The reason it’s so difficult is because most autism symptoms are either very specific or need to have a certain context. For example, someone can hate loud noises and be neurotypical, but if someone cries and covers their ears every time a balloon pops, something may be amiss. Someone may play with their hair or fidget when they are nervous or giddy and be clear in the eyes of a psychologist, but if someone is spinning, biting, hugging themselves, or rocking back and forth to bleed off emotion or to express despair, then something else may be going on.

However, when someone with autism sees symptoms and relates to them, that’s different. They already have the context, but they just didn’t know to what yet. To be fair, it may not be correct - a lot of things overlap - but it’s certainly a start if you’re trying to get a diagnosis…and doctors/psychologists should respect that. They only see you, at most, a few times a year. They don’t know everything about you, and they certainly don’t know your day to day life the way you do.

And if you’ve had these symptoms since you were a child, before whatever trauma you went through, that should be an indication that your concerns should be looked into. I hate that this isn’t being taken seriously, especially because you have been dealing with the symptoms for so long - which, I’m sure, have been exacerbated by the childhood trauma.

As for being disabled, I get it. When I was young and before I was told about my diagnosis, I wanted answers any way I could get them. I didn’t want to be disabled. I didn’t want attention or clout or whatever. I just wanted to know why I could never hold a conversation for more than three seconds and I cried every day. Why I preferred hanging out in the teacher’s lounge instead of playing with kids my own age. Why everyone thought I was weird.

When I finally got that answer, it was a huge weight of my chest, but I still had a lot of questions - and I’m sure you do too. There are some things that the internet can’t explain or help. If you ever need a question answered, feel free to DM me or drop an ask in my inbox.

Keep me updated on your diagnosis process, and I hope everything goes well!

[theyonegurl]

(TW at the end, mentions of cutting, suicide, abusive parents.)

Ah yes, Trauma!

I've really wanted to talk about trauma recently – I've been going through some family bs – and haven't really had the chance to word vomit anywhere. So Tumblr it is... the end is just my experience but I wanted to make sure everyone was up to speed.

What is Trauma?

So I'm just gonna start with what the definition of trauma is. I found a couple things so I will just list them out.

Trauma is a response to a deeply distressing or disturbing event.

This event overwhelms a person and can cause them to feel physically threatened or extremely frightened.

A traumatic incident can cause physical, psychological, emotional or spiritual harm.

Some examples.

So we've covered what it is basically now about what a traumatic event could be. These can range from a multitude of things.

Natural disasters (Tornado, flood, tsunami, etc.)

Physical assault

Sexual assault

Death of a parent or caregiver

Hospitalization

Emotional Abuse

Neglect (or the opposite side of the spectrum Golden Child Syndrome.)

There are many more than just these. I found when looking up what some examples could be.

Percentage of trauma.

About 70% of people have gone through a traumatic event in their life. However, that doesn't necessarily mean they will be affected by it long term or at all.

Some people only have symptoms that resolve in a couple weeks.

Some people don't have any symptoms.

Some people have long term effects from said trauma.

Childhood trauma.

22% - 48% of youth are exposed to trauma. That's way too high in my book. As a person who realized how much childhood trauma could affect someone, I sincerely wished this number would be lower.

People who have childhood trauma may develop what is called, " a heightened stress response."

This can affect their ability to regulate their emotions.

They may have troubles sleeping. Have problems with emotional health or physical health.

Troubles with relationships and etc.

It just sucks in general.

TW ⚠️This next part is my own trauma. This is me venting/sharing my experience TW ⚠️

I have really wanted to talk about my own experience – partly to vent – I want it out there so I can relieve some of this weight I carry. If I could help enlighten someone or help someone going through similar experiences then I would be putting my trauma to use.

Parents suck...

Well at least mine did. All of my trauma was from them. I'm glad they don't know my Tumblr because I'm about to spit some facts.

Them.

My parents are fucked up. My dad was in the military – already some trauma there – and wasn't even supposed to live because his brain was messed up.

His parents weren't great. My dad seems to have adopted a lot of traits from his dad – who is abusive to my grandma. My dad most likely abused my mom and vise versa. They were a match made in hell.

My mom is an alcoholic that won't admit she's an alcoholic. She grew up with an alcoholic of a mother that probably killed my mom's brother because she was drunk – this is all based off what my mom has told me.

She was exposed to trauma at a young age. She got in fights – did stupid shit – almost didn't finish highschool. Met my dad and had children.

I never understood why.

They screwed us over.

It's okay to have trauma.

But then push it on your children?

It's sad that the person you're supposed to rely on the most just throws you away when you're not necessary. That when you mess up they get to tell you it's all your fault – when you're just a child.

I was forced to play a sport competively when I didn't want to for three years (four of those months I had mono, I was so tired.)

I was berated when I made any mistake. I dropped a glass plate that was in the microwave. (My dad cared more about the plate than me stepping on glass. I was eight.)

My mom always talks about how much we cost her. Groceries, clothes, doctor appointments, braces, glasses. (I didn't ask to be born. You had a child, why is that my fault?)

I was always mentally abused by my father – as was my sister. He was always right. He got to raise his voice; you had to sit and take it. When he was in a pissy mood we had to walk on eggshells around him. He decided when a fight ended. We were always wrong. We were too young and didn't know what we were talking about. (Why do you get to decide what's right and wrong? I'm only a child, I believed you were amazing...)

My dad was diagnosed with dementia. Now I have to live with him longer because we feel bad for him. (He makes me feel like trash, why do I have to deal with this?)

I always thought my dad was "real." He didn't fake liking things for us like other people's parents. He told me straight up what he thought. (He wasn't real, he was a narcissist. He didn't care about us.)

My mom wasn't in the picture much. She treats us – her children – as competition. If we like something she starts doing it. She makes us uncomfortable, tells her friends things we don't want her to tell, if she feels threatened.

I never got to be girly. My dad believed in purity culture – even if we didn't realize it. Dresses are ugly, and feminine. If it's feminine it's bad. I thought I was cool because I was a tomboy. I was only molded into believing that. (When I saw girls at school wearing leggings or short shorts I was envious. I would only look ugly in those.)

I thought I had social anxiety because my head was screwed. I was just made different. (My sister told me how much my dad would overexagerate my mistakes. Everyone said I was so friendly and bright as a child. Why would my parents damage me like this?)

Hearing foot steps makes me anxious. My dad would always come upstairs when taking me to practice. (I never wanted to go. I would rather get hit by a car. I wanted it to happen.)

I cut myself when my dad was gone, only once. I wanted to believe I would never do something like that. Cutting was edgy and something people do when they want attention. (Not when you're faced with the choice to make the hurt go away. Not when it's threatening to swallow you whole. It hurt. A lot. It was a only small nick. I felt so good, my anxiety just went away. I felt amazing. I felt so guilty though, I ended up calling my sister. She drove an hour and a half for me. She genuinely loves me.)

I finally got out. I live with my sister. I still feel guilty for leaving them. For when my mom would come home drunk, cry on me, plead with me not to leave. For my dad being all alone with no one to be there for him. Sometimes the guilt consumes me. I feel like a shitty child. (It's not my problem though. They are adults. Why do they get to act like children. Why did they have to break me?)

There's so much more. But I don't remember it. I don't remember my childhood at all. I have horrible memory. "It's the trauma." I joke. (But it's true. I always coped by forgetting. Sometimes I'll bring something up and my sister will be confused. It's a fake memory. It never happened. I forget days as they're happening. I don't remember what I did yesterday. Why can't I remember?)

All these things contribute to the trauma I have endured. Trauma other have also had to endure. I wished people never hurt their kids. Not just for my sake but many others. Friends and family that have had to deal with this.

I don't know how to end this off. So have a gif of an adorable cat.

Help is always near. Even if it's a stranger.

If you want to read up on childhood trauma.

[magicalshitposts]

Now that it's canon and I've talked it through with @redshift-corridor I think I'm gonna share my Robbie's eating problem headcanon.

Big big big TW for eating disorders (in detail), throwing up, passing out, being unhealthily thin and having near death experience

Smaller TW for drug and alcohol use

All of this will be under the cut!

Robbie Canonically having a problem with food kinda got me back into the HC that I made a good while ago. Because it was such a small HC that I was thought was very unlikely in the long term, I didn't put much thought into it. 

I have now put some thought into it

After doing research into Eating Disorders, there is one by the name of ARFID, which stands for ‘Avoidant/restrictive food intake disorder’. It’s pretty much an umbrella term for a lot of unspecified EDs so has a lot of signs (not all of them will apply to the person). The traits I took note of were 

Missing meals completely, especially when busy with something else.

Finding it difficult to recognise when hungry.

Feeling full after only a few mouthfuls and struggling to eat more.

Taking a long time over mealtimes/finding eating a ‘chore’.

Weight loss 

This was definitely what I associated with Robbie.

This is a headcanon for a different post but It’s vital to know mental health is not taken seriously in my version Hyrule, It’s not taken at all. There are no therapists, no doctors, nothing. 

It starts in his early childhood. He was never much on an eater as a kid, only getting through a bit of breakfast and lunch before saying he wasn't hungry for dinner. That was more or less fine though. He had a few snacks throughout the day and was a small boy anyway, his parents never really caught on. 

It was moving out that became a problem. Now he didn’t have his parents to remind him to eat, he didn’t. He would have a meal here and there but it was a smaller amount than a grown man needed. His body adjusted to it, his stomach shrinking in size to regulate the lack of food. Then he meets Purah and it all goes down hill. There is a thing, that while isn’t a symptom of ARFID, I do associate with Robbie. He doesn’t like to eat around others. It takes him a long time to be able to feel comfortable enough to do that. Him and Purah move in together straight away, and he does end up getting comfortable, but straight after they are thrown into a war, which is where the big problem starts.

Onto the bulk of it.

No one at work really notices that this is an issue because no one knows him all to well, they all just assume he doesn’t have Lunch. Purah obviously knows and she already concerned. Not a huge amount but enough to give him gentle reminders to eat, his answer to that is ‘thanks doll, but I ain’t too hungry’.

Another HC that is kind of important is my Robbie both drinks alcohol and smokes herb religiously. If he’s not working he’s drunk or high or still working. He has a very high alcohol tolerance, so it takes him a lot to get drunk, but because he’s drinking on an empty stomach, the alcohol comes back up after every couple of drinks. And with smoking, Herb (here's some info on herb) makes you really hungry which is great! He’s eating! Then Purah realises its the only time he’s eating, which is a bit of an issue.

This is when he starts to pass out and throw up. He passes out from hunger every couple of days but recovers from in really quick. He’s back up in an hour. It becomes so frequent however that employees (that aren’t Purah) just move him to the closest wall and carry on working. He throws up literally every time he eats when he’s sober because his body is reacting badly to the sudden intake of food.

Purah then bans him from fieldwork due to sickness. If he faints on the field, whatever he’s doing isn’t going to stop for him, and she is not letting her best friend die, especially on her hands. So he was tied to his desk. That means he’s getting very little exercise as field work was his only form of it. And due to field work he was a very built person. When that stopped, he lost muscle mass and Purah saw how bad he looked. He was gaunt in the face, his arms and legs looked like they could snap at any moment. He looked old and skinny and it was a ungodly sight. 

Then the big thing happened. The final battle was taking place as they spoke which meant they had been slumped under with work. They had no time off, which meant no recreational drugs like herb, which meant no eating. Robbie hadn’t eaten for about 2 weeks. Purah thought he was doing well, every time she asked him, ‘did you eat?’, he’d lie and say yes just to get her off his back. And he had been so high of off adrenaline from work, he hadn’t passed out. From an outsider’s perspective, he was improving. Then he passed out again. Then he didn’t wake up after the hour. Many workers believed he was in a Coma, as he was clearly still alive but unresponsive. After 2 days he finally woke up, and Purah had had enough. She was ready to snap, he had lied to her face multiple times and could’ve nearly died. 

She finally makes him visit Mipha (who becomes a doctor after the calamity) , who sends him to Gerudo town who harbours the only family of mental health professionals in Hyrule (who are very underground as they aren't trained). They keep him with them for a few days to start him off. He gets a food diary and is told to try and maintain a diet of two small snacks a day. Just to get his stomach used to food again. From that they plan to build up his diet. He never gets to 3 meals a day. The most he has is a morning snack (which is clearly breakfast but he refuses to call it that) and an evening meal. It takes him about 40 minutes to eat his morning snack (two slices of toast) and an hour and a half to two to eat his evening meal.

He never gets back to where he was. To as strong as he used to be. After his body gets used to food, he takes training back up. He begins to train with Impa but she's pushy and demanding and he's stubborn and weak so they butt heads a lot. Instead Impa changes places with Link, who is kind, patient and motivating. Robbie slowly starts to build up his strength (and in turn back up his battle skills). His body is still thin but he's getting better, and the steps count, no matter how big they are

I know that was incredibly dark but a lot of the best headcanons are in my opinion. I made sure to do my research on the topic but if I got anything wrong please correct me!

[danideservedbetter]

Day 7, 8, 9, and 10 / Elaboration

Hey y’all! I said yesterday I would elaborate a little more on what my doctor’s visit yesterday told me, and here I am to do just that! I meant to yesterday, honestly, but by the time I got home my medicine had worn off and that wasn’t looking very likely 😅😅 But regardless!!! Here is what my results look like and honestly? These things probably have been affecting my sleeping disorder to a degree I’d previously disregarded without detailed info I’ve gotten from these tests.

Full write up under the cut!

—I got two major tests done, blood work and a genetics test. Back in my hometown the nurses couldn’t even figure out how to open the damn swab, but technology here managed to map out my entire DNA sequence which is utterly NUTS to me.

—My body is deficient in almost every important vitamin known to mankind, which makes sense because my diet is not… the best 😅 So, I started on several (SEVERAL) supplements to start out.

—I say start out because it’s very likely that I’ll be taking vitamin C and some liver enzyme through an IV once a month. A younger me might’ve thought something like this was scary, but at this point I’m so desperate to be healthy that getting nutrients drip fed into my system for them to work quicker sounds just fine to me.

—Other than that it’s normal lifestyle stuff. Eat more fruits and vegetables (I’ve been eating olives by the can for like days and I intend to buy fresh fruit packets for breakfast whenever I can afford them) as well as staying more active— which I DEFINITELY have been since I moved closer to New Orleans, in Louisiana proper where my dad lives.

But enough of the boring medicinal stuff. I’m sure you guys are much more interested in the whys— is there a reason my hypersomnia is so bad? Is there a deeper explanation than “lack of vitamins bad and you should feel bad”?

Well, yeah. YES. The genetics test revealed a metric fuckton to say the least 😂😂😂 but the most important was what kinds of diseases I’m predisposed to or how my body can process certain types of hormones/enzymes/proteins. Things like why caffeine won’t work for me (my body processes it very fast but not very thoroughly) or my metabolism being the strongest recorded genotype (which is why it’s been so hard to gain weight). Below, I’ll go into detail about stuff my new general doctor’s in-office geneticist (I still can’t believe that’s a thing I’m typing) has revealed about my disorder.

Naturally, this is specific to me because of my parents and our family lines. Maybe if you see info pertinent to yourself, looking into genetic mapping may be a good idea for you?

We are pretty confident that I have Idiopathic Hypersomnia. The reason for this is that a tiny link has been found between individuals who contracted mononucleosis in their childhood and adolescence and individuals who fell within the sleep cycles indicating IH. Now, IH will be genetic sometimes, but considering I’ve tracked my disorder to starting around 14, the same year I contracted Mono, the coincidence definitely doesn’t seem like… well, a coincidence. My blood test shows that I do in fact have the antibodies in my system, and they’re doing something… odd.

The geneticist found some “active” antibodies. Well, not some, really 😅 Basically, she’s surmised that these antibodies have a hair-trigger response and can react to any given environmental factor (stress, hunger, etc.) to the point where they activate as if they think they’re **fighting off a virus that’s been out of my system for ten years.** Of course this takes up an inordinate amount of energy, which is her hypothesis as to why my hypersomnia is so random and varies in intensity. The goal for this summer is flushing these antibodies out of my system.

My previous neurologist tried out a couple stimulants and then shit insurance prevented me from trying any others. So I’m stuck on something traditionally prescribed for adhd. A narcotic. *However* since my body is severely dysfunctional in general, the way I describe it is I basically have to induce a high to stay awake and function normally. We want to eventually get me off of these kinds of drugs, of course, since prolonged exposure weakens their effects and they’re highly addictive.

Another in credibly interesting thing we found is that I'm lacking in three major hormones. However, it's not because I don't produce them. I've never identified with symptoms of depression (anxiety, certainly, but not depression) yet for most of my life my childhood general practitioner insisted I had it. Well, the geneticist found that while I'm lacking in serotonin, dopamine, and melatonin, which yes are the two major mood enhancers and then the hormone that induces sleep, it's not because I can't produce them. It's because my neural transmitters are so damaged from a less-than-good diet and years of exhaustion that they simply can't process them. Just as the antibodies can have a hair-trigger response to environmental factors, so too can these processors. Simple things like a good meal, my high from my stimulants, or even micro dopamine shots from getting things done can activate the transmitters. Another thing on the docket for the summer is fixing these permanently with treatments of vitamins and supplements.

My stimulants have caused appetite issues, unfortunately, and that plus Covid at the beginning of this year caused me to get down to my lowest recorded weight ever, 94 pounds, which I haven't weighed since before I hit my final growth spurt way back in middle school. My dad does physical labor (he's a contractor who frames houses in the humid heat of the Deep South lol) so he's used to feeling tired. When he caught Covid, he said that he'd never felt as tired, drained, or out of it in his entire life. He never gets sick and hardly goes to the doctor and NEVER takes off work because of health, but in his last few weeks before full recovery he had to take off early multiple times. He was floored when he described the brain fog and exhaustion and I told him that I had no idea I even had Covid, because I just thought it was my disorder acting up. It was only when my grandmother started feeling tired that we got tested and we tested positive.

All that said, we think that there's hope for a future for me. She said that while there's no cure for IH, the cause that I have may can be mitigated by changes in exercise, diet, routine, and medication,to the point where I may mitigate symptoms of my disorder entirely. I'm still setting up appointments with a new neurologist here in the city, though, because technology is of course more advanced here.

And again, taking all of this into consideration, while it was looking likelier by the day, we've both agreed that I'll be here in the city 'til New Years. Which means no school this semester, but if I can go back in spring at more than 20% functionality and maybe succeed, I'm perfectly fine having to remain on break.

However, another good update: I weigh 103 pounds! I'm steadily gaining weight-- which means the other medication, the one for my appetite, is working as it should and as long as I stay on-track I should reach my goal of 120 by the end of the year as well.

So, yeah! That's what it's looking like. I have another appointment to go more in depth with the results tomorrow, but for now I'm planning out my week since I decided to let myself rest all last week. I'd love to finish helping out for our current podfic, ACTUALLY start the damn 100 Theme Challenge (LOL), finish betaing something that's been on hold for months, properly reconnect with our discord, catch up on all the media I fell behind on, clean my damn room, and establish a budget for this week on what I can buy. A more specific plan for today will follow, but til then, I hope this gives everyone some insight on what I'm looking at and how I'm gonna try to fix it.

Xoxo

Dani

[713deepsubmerge813]

Short- ABO universe!

Keigo Takami x (gn) reader

Hawks x (gn) reader

Warnings-mostly SFW, only one sentence where hawk's mind goes to the gutter. That's it.

Note- if any one likes it I'll continue 😁

Letting him see them was the commission's biggest mistake.

Hawks contemplated calmly as he soared high above the city. From time to time when the avian man had a lot on his mind and not enough patients to deal with every fan he comes across, he would take to patrolling the skies. From high up keigo had a great view of the city and thanks to his sharp eyes could easily see what activities the bustling city was going through. Citizens on their way to and from work, some hanging out with friends after school and some walking their little ones accross the busy intersection. The pro hero couldn't help but let his eyes linger on the parents fawning over their children. It made him Think back to his own bleak childhood.

He couldn't help but wonder what it Would feel like, having a family to protect and fawn over. To make matters worse his rut was super close. He could already begin to feel himself pant and sweat, the usual symptoms befor his rut fully hit. It was a good thing patrol was almost done. He needed the week long vacation he was promised.

Having been traned by the commission since he was a child, the people in charge of him had to find ways to deal with his more avain tendencies. When puberty hit keigo takami, they had to learn the hard way quickly that some born with animal like quirks were increadably difficult to handle during mating season. They tried giving him suppresants and for a while they worked. They're biggest mistake however was letting him see the small creature they'd brought in to train.

The incident keigo will never forget came when he was fifteen. during his highschool years they found his ruts were getting more difficult to control. Keigo had been training in a massive out door obstacle course (courtesy of the funds donated by the hero commission) when he'd first caught the smell. It was tantalizing. It made feathers ruffle. He couldn't describe the smell but knew that it was intoxicating. He couldn't help but search for what it was. This scent had him swooning with each inhail as he made his way closer to it as fast as he could. This smell made him feel safe. Like a long forgotten memory used to comfort your anxieties. Keigo had never felt this way. His whole life was filled with neglect and abuse and that was before the commission took him in.

The smell and the feeling it gave him was something he could not pass by. He needed it. He needed it like he needed air. He vowed to find what ever it was and keep it for eternity.

As he brushed through the thick forest, he could feel the branches of trees scrape his wings, but paid them no mind as he gained speed. Coming in to a small clearing, he could see people standing around in a small semi circle clearly whispering among themselves. They were toadies and doctors from the commission and there beside them was a smaller creature with beautiful little white wings. His abrupt intrusion however startled the group of people who all grabbed the smaller child and shoved the tiny thing behind them before he could get a better look.

"Hawks! What are you doing here? Your not scheduled to use the obstical courses until after classes! " the doctor in the coat yelled up at him with a slightly panicked look.

Hawks lowered himself to the ground as he spoke .

"Sorry classes were let out early today so I figured I'd get a head start. You know, fastest man around and all that. "

It was the mantra they'd been drilling into his head for years now. Part of his conditioning to make him the best hero.

He landed with gentle feet on the grass so as to not alert them. Judging by their behavior he'd say they were definitely scitish and they were definitely hiding something.. or someone he thought as he heard a small whimper.

The few adults in the back began to usher that small someone further away from him. He realized they must have been testing the quirk of a new recruit. But why hide it from him? He's eaten and trained with other kids here before, why was this one a secret? And why did they smell soo damn good? Keigo felt a jolt of panick run up his spine. Why were they taking them away? His breathing became heavier. His body started to sweat and he could feel a painful pressure in his fingertips and gums. A glance down told him his nails had elongated and by running his tongue over his teeth he could tell that his canines were longer too . What was happening to him? The delectable scent was invading his nostrils to the point that he felt his brain go foggy. The rest was a blure.

When he awoke the next day it was in a hospital like room. But he could tell he was still with the hero commission. It was only logical they had their own hospital wing considering they put minors through extreme training. He looked down at himself to asses the damage but only found a small pinhole surrounded by a bruise on his chest. So they'd tranquilized him. He had to have been very close in range , practically right on top of them for it to have left that kind of mark. It made him shudder. What would have happened if they had not shot? Or if they had taken the shot with a real bullet . He tried to think back to what happened but could only recall a few flashes like pictures and emotions from his memory before his head started to pound.(must be from the drugs he thought bitterly) And that scent that would not leave his mind.

Who were they? Why did the commission want him to stay away? Why did he lose control?

When the doctors came to check on him he figured he'd ask if they knew what happened. And for onec they were thankfully honest. From what they could tell Hawks had a secondary gender that usually showed up in those with animalistic like quirks. Hawks was an alpha. And the tasty smelling person they were assessing in the woods was an omega. They told him it was a normal reaction but he didn't fully believe it. Even now as a full grown pro hero, Hawks had smelled quite a few omegas around different cities but none of them smelled the way that the forst one did. Who were they? He only caught a glimpse of small white wings.

Hawks never caught sight or smell of them again... Until recently.

The commission must have moved them to a different location. For years keigo tried to smooz information out of the commission about other children they had taken in to train. But they stayed on top of their game, never letting a speck of information slip but, Japan is small and he finally caught the sent he'd been searching for, for years.

He'd followed it to a quaint little apartment building the next town over. It was a small town more on the impoverished side of the tracks but keigo didn't mind. It would only help him locate them easier. The only thing that stopped keigo was the shout of a woman in distress. He should have figured, crime never takes a break. He altered course and flew to where the commotion was coming from. A petty thug trying to rob a middle age woman, hawks already knew it wouldn't take long for him to defuse the situation, take the criminal in and get back to his hunt before his rut fully kicked in.

That was until, a beautiful creature with wings white as snow swooped down faster than even him and took the criminal out with one hit. That may have been over kill thought hawks before he completely lost his train of thought when that sent hit him again... Oh no, his mind was already fogging. Why did they have such an effect on him? Years of mental discipline flew out the winow every time he caught taste of that smell on the wind. Could he hold out? Could he control himself so close to his rut? What if he ended up hurting them? He stopped to rethink his plan when he heard their beautiful voice ring out.

They were consoling the womam who had been attacked. That's when Hawks finally realized he'd been hovering mid air for at least a few minutes deep in thought. He'd never been so off his game. Finally, the other hero turned to him and their voice rang out.

"Sorry pal, didn't mean to steal the spot light. I mean this is my area to patrol today."

Hawks was flabbergasted. There they were. He'd been searching for so long and here they were and of course his mind wouldn't function. They were beautiful. (Hairlength (y/h/c) curled in soft waves and your (y/e/c) eyes looked up at him with amusement. How had he never actually seen you before. A rush of anger towards the commission had him breathing heavier. How could they keep you apart? You were perfect. Your costume hugged you perfectly and accentuated all the best places. Hawks was shook. He panicked momentarily.. What was he even supposed to say?

'Hi I'm hawks you don't know me but I've been hunting you for years. '

Funnily he couldn't see that going over well. He tried to think fast.

The first Impression they had of him was probably when he attacked the commission members. The last thing he wanted to do was scare you off now. Not now that he finally found you. Think! He told himself.

"That's alright pretty bird. I was just in the neighborhood after patrol, thought I'd lend a hand."

Hawks lowered himself slowly to the ground a distance away. He didn't want them smelling his pheromones which were surly escaping without his consent now.

The other hero finished clapping some quirk canceling hand cuffs on the villain and made sure the woman was okay to leave after taking a brief statement and calling the police. They did everything perfectly, efficiently. And hawks had to use all his self control to not rush over and begin sniffing their neck like a weirdo. Every thing about them screamed at him to take them, to protect them, to make them his forever. To burry his cock so deep inside them that they never thought about another. Keigo shook his head. Don't scare them off he thought.

'Take it slow, no rushing this. You can do this'. He told himfelf with confidence. He's flirted and gained people trust before, this would be easy for him.

"Always the hero even on your time off?"

They asked with a chuckle.

"Guess I shouldn't expect anything less from the number two hero. "

They shot him a cheeky smile and continued to help the police officer load the villain in the vehicle.This was going to be harder than he thought...

But no matter. He could have patients, he's waited this long after all and good things do come for those who wait.

"Well baby bird. How about I get your number? Or I could give you mine incase you ever need a hand. "

Hawks panicked... That was apparently the wront thing to say. They quirked an eye brow at him and took a more offensive stance by folding their arms across their chest. And what a beautiful chest it was Keigo thought. Then tried desperately to shove that though away when they finally answered.

"Thanks but I think I'll be okay. " they turned to walk away but kaigo panicked!

"Wait! " hawks nearly yelled but composed himself quickly. "You live around here? I could walk you home."

Keigo rubbed his neck sheepishly trying he's best to seem cool but instantly wanted to shove his foot in his mouth. Why did he say that? He knew he came off as creepy and deprate. He's never had anyone knock him off his game before.

"No thank you, I'll be fine. " they responded as they turned to leave. Well what was he supposed to do now? He couldn't let them disappear again but at least he had a good idea where they lived, if the stronger scent surrounding the building he'd found a few weeks prior was anything to go by. For now he'd have to play it cool until he could figure out a good plan to ask them to date. Date? Or was it courting? He'd never had to before in his life. He'd become very accustomed to the fast lane- instant gratification kind of life style he's been living since he broke out on his own. But for them.. He'd wait an eternity. Their scent lingers even after they've left. But hawks didn't move, still trying to breath in the last of the fading aroma and when it had finally faded he felt a very deep pit like whole in his chest. How was he going to survive without them? Could he survive taking things slow? He could tell they weren't some fan that usually tried throwing themselves at him. He'd have to take his time, he told himself. He'd have to for them.

[songtoyou]

Epiphany - Part Two

Paring: Luke Crain x Female Reader

Chapter Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 2,001

Warnings: Talks of drug use and recovery, mention death of family members.

Description: Life has never been easy for Luke Crain. After the death of Nell, Luke realizes that he needs to make some changes. He decided to stay in Massachusetts and attend rehab. He was determined to remain on his path of sobriety. When you get assigned to be Luke’s sponsor, it opens a new door of possibilities that neither you nor Luke expected.  

A/N: I finally watched the Haunting of Hill House a while back. I found Luke to be very interesting. This is my take on how Luke would go on with life after Nell’s death and how his continued path to remain sober would look like.

Feedback is wonderful. It is nice knowing if people are actually liking this fic.

I do not permit my work to be posted on any other site without my permission.

“Hey,” he said to get your attention. “I promised that I’ll come to talk to you if I ever feel like I might…. Or if I just feel like I need someone to talk to.”

Sure enough, Luck kept his promise that if he ever needed to talk, he would call you. The two of you have talked almost every day since your first meeting two-weeks ago. For Luke, it was nice being able to talk with someone he could connect with. While Steve, Shirley, and Theo were more supportive of him than ever before, his siblings still could not fully relate to his ordeals.

Theo mentioned to Luke that he could be open and honest with her about his past experiences, his current feelings, and how he was coping with Nell’s death. “I appreciate it, Theo, I really do,” Luke told her over the phone. He just got back from class and was getting ready to head out to see you.

“I feel a ‘but’ coming along,” Theo lightly said.

“But…it is just hard talking about this stuff with someone who…”

“With someone who doesn’t necessarily share the same experience or feelings,” replied Theo and added, “Talking about Nell…and dad…is hard for all of us. However, I do understand that we all have our own ways of coping. I’m only glad that you aren’t…you know…”

“Me too. I told you guys, that I’m serious about remaining clean. It’s my last promise to Nell and I intend to keep it. Plus, my sponsor is…she’s awesome. Definitely been a nice help with having someone to talk to who understands.”

“Well, that is great, Luke. I’m glad you have someone who you are comfortable talking to about these things. So, your sponsor…what is she like? What’s her name?”

After telling Theo your first and last name, he went on talking about how you have been clean for the past three years, that your family lives in Wilmington, you work at a bakery part-time, and that you are a current art student at Middlesex Community College.

“Lowell campus or Bedford campus?” Theo continued to pry.

“Bedford.”

“What does she plan on doing with an art degree?” asked Theo.

“I don’t know! Probably because she likes art,” Luke replied. He was starting to get a tad annoyed at his older sister.

“Can I meet her?”

“You know what…wow…look at the time. In fact, I gotta start heading out,” Luke mentioned as he saw the time on the clock. “Talk to you later, Theo.”

Before Theo could try to pry more information about you, Luke hung up. Theo was intrigued about you but would not pry. At least for now.

You asked Luke if he had ever been to the Lexington Venue, an old theater seventeen minutes outside of Wilmington. He had not. You mentioned to him that you were planning to see the new Marvel movie, ‘Avengers’ Endgame, and if he wanted to join. Luke happily accepted your offer.

Since you had been to the Lexington Venue numerous times, Luke suggested that you drive. He heard a car pull up Shirley’s driveway and looked out the window to see that it was you. Luke grabbed his coat, checked to make sure he had his wallet, and headed out the door. Awkwardly, it was at the same time Shirley stepped out her front door.

“Oh…Luke…hey, where are you heading out to?” Shirley inquired as she strolled with her younger brother to your car.

“Uh, we’re just heading to the movies,” Luke replied. He waved and said ‘hi’ once he got closer to your car.

“We? Who’s we?” Shirley asked. When she saw you, she gave a wave herself and looked over at Luke, waiting to get introduced.

“Oh right. Sorry, my bad,” said Luke with an awkward chuckle and introduced you to Shirley and vice versa.

“It’s nice to meet you. Luke hasn’t told us much about you. From what he has mentioned is that you’re his sponsor…”

“Shirley,” Luke said in a warning tone. The last thing he wanted was his sister to embarrass you in any way.

“Yes, I graduated, you could say, from the same program Luke is currently in. and have been clean for three years,” you mentioned. You figured it would be best to help ease Shirley’s tension by being honest with how long you have been clean. “Luke, we better get going if we want to make the matinee show.”

Luke bid his sister goodbye and got in your car. “I’m sorry about Shirley. She’s…well…she’s Shirley. Very much a Type A personality.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it. I totally get it. My mom is the same way. She kept asking me questions about you. I told her she just needed to relax and that all we are doing is going to the movies. She sort of does that with everyone I hang out with. It’s like she is just waiting for something to happen, you know.”

“But you’ve been in recovering for a long time,” Luke pointed out. “Your mom should see that you have made a real effort in maintaining your sobriety.”

You let out an exasperated sigh. “Here’s the thing Luke, we are always going to be addicts. It isn’t going to go away. It is an incurable disease. It is no different than cancer. The only difference that the world doesn’t view addiction as a disease.”

Luke contemplated what you were saying. He never thought of his addiction as a disease but rather a symptom of Hill House. That house was never a home. It left a stain on his childhood that penetrated adulthood. While Luke no longer felt the presence of the “Tall Man” haunting him at every turn, he could never shake the feeling of the coldness in his limbs or the stiffness of his neck he felt that particular day at the rehab center in Los Angeles. He often wondered what his life would have turned out if his father never insisted on buying Hill House. His mother would still be alive, along with Nell and his dad. The Crain family would be whole rather than broken.

“What do you know about this so-called ‘sponsor’?” Theo asked Shirley over the phone.

“No more than you know. I actually got to meet her in person when she stopped by early to pick Luke up. Apparently, they were off to go to the movies over in Lexington. They were in a hurry, so I didn’t get to talk very much with her. She seems nice, though. Luke seems to have really bonded with her. That’s good, right? We should be happy that he has a friend he can confide in…you know…now that Nell is…. gone,” replied Shirley. It was still hard for her to say her baby sister was dead.

“Luke is coping better than any of us thought he would. It isn’t like the previous times. I see the commitment he has to stay clean. I don’t think he and his friend are doing anything they shouldn’t be doing. I don’t think Luke would lie to us,” Shirley added.

“No, I don’t think he is lying to us at all, “Theo immediately interjected. “Like you said Shirl, I think Luke is committed to his program. It is just…my protective instincts are on high alert…with all of you. I just want to know who this person Luke is hanging out with. Maybe we could get Luke to invite her over for dinner? Aren’t Kevin and the kids going to visit his mom over the weekend? We could do it this Saturday.”

“Okay. That could work with not having Kevin or the kids around. Please let me be the one to ask Luke about dinner. Theo? Theo, you’re not texting Luke, now are you?”

~Luke, bring your friend to dinner this Saturday at 7:00 p.m. – Theo~

“That movie was so long,” you said to Luke while walking out of the theater.

“Way too long and kind of boring, especially in the beginning,” Luke replied throwing out his trash.

“Definitely could have cut at least 35 minutes from the film. What time is it?” you asked exiting the building with Luke following behind.

Luke dug into his coat pocket to retrieve his phone. When he logged in, he saw a text from Theo.

“Fucking eh. You are not going to believe this?”

“What? Everything okay?”

“Everything is fine,” reassured Luke and let out a chuckle. “My sister, Theo, is asking me…well more like telling me to bring you over for dinner this Saturday. You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

You stopped mid-walk to turn towards Luke. “Do you not want me to meet them?” you asked and continued when he gave you a skeptical look, “I can kind of sense that me meeting your family…well I can sense a rush of anxiety coming from you.”

Shuffling from one foot to the other, Luke contemplated how best to explain his family to you. “Let’s get in your car. I will tell you everything. You deserve to know the full truth.”

Boy, Luke laid on the truth. From the “Tall Man” to Abigail and how everyone thought she was imaginary because her parents never allowed her to leave their home, and how Theo struggles with heightened sensitivity. “It is one of those things that kind of runs in the family,” said Luke and continued, “Our mother and grandma were…they had similar abilities. Anything Theo touches, objects, or places, she can feel the emotions from people. The House killed our mother. It tricked her into believing that killing her children would wake us from this nightmare…that it would save us. Our dad got us away in time, but it was too late to save mom. She was dead by the time dad got back to the house. Then it got Nell. The way it Tricked her the same way it tricked mom. I tried burning it down, but nothing happened. The House would have gotten me, Steve, Shirley, and Theo if our dad hadn’t…he sacrificed himself to save us.”

After telling you everything, Luke let out a deep breath. He looked over at you and let out a laugh. “I don’t blame you for wanting to drop me as your mentee. I totally understand. My bag of crazy is hard to handle sometimes.”

In the past, it would have been a lot for you to handle someone like Luke. His issues far exceeded your capabilities when it came to helping someone maintain their sobriety. However, you were older and no longer ran or made yourself numb in fear of feeling peoples’ emotions. Instead of viewing your empath abilities as a curse, you saw them as a gift. As a way to help those in need. The thing about Luke was that he did not need saving. He did not want some to swoop in and save him from his problems. No. You were able to sense that the man before just wanted someone to believe in him. To know that he is telling the truth and that he was not making any of it up.

While Luke was telling you about his past, you saw everything. You saw the “Tall Man” as he haunted that little boy with glasses up until he reached adulthood, you saw him play with Abigail and drew pictures in his treehouse. You could see his mother as she poured the tea for him, Nell, and Abigail that last night at Hill House, and how as an adult he tried to set it ablaze. You saw it all. You felt it all.

“I believe you, Luke. I’m not going anywhere if you don’t want me to,” you told him earnestly.

He turned to look into your eyes to make sure you were telling the truth. “Are you sure?”  

“Yes,” you easily said and started your car. “You better text your sister back that I would love to come over for dinner this Saturday.”

[mettalbunnyg]

I started Journaling about how important songs and music are to me. This one really hits me hard and I love it so much. Love Hollow Front! I listen to this song daily and is on repeat quite a bit. It's important to my journey on confronting my childhood trauma.

P.A.N.I.C. by Hollow Front

I start to sense the panic

Coursing through my veins

A sickness so bleak and tragic

I feel its symptoms now

Just like a noose around my neck

I felt shame, guilt and disgust and just a downright filthy person. This is from experiencing sexual abuse at the young age of 6. Every day I think about it, why can’t I move on? Why can’t I have one day that I feel decent about myself. My anxiety keeps me distant and I am still forcing myself to feel alone even when others give me love. This makes me feel like I am doomed for life never escaping this deep pit of disgust that I fill my mind with.

And I've spent my whole life

Trying to prove to myself

That I was good enough

When in fact if I'd just opened my eyes

I'd have been sure to find

What it takes to get better

It took me 28 years to seek professional help for sexual trauma that occurred when I was around the age of six. A type of trauma like that would definitely break you at that young age leading me to feel helpless and like I didn’t deserve shit. Although, each day I kept on and contemplated suicide when I was 12. I had opportunities to ask for help but what stopped me was the fear that had grown inside of me. The fear that my abusers had imbedded in me through intimidation of ending my life if I had told anybody about what they had done to me. At six, that’s scary and you don’t know what to think so I did what most do, I kept quiet to suffer alone with a secret that would eat me alive for many years.

I've lived my life

Under the shadow of doubt

I've lived my life

Beneath these darkened clouds

I've lived my whole life

Just trying to find a way to get by

Instead of fighting to make myself happy

I walked through my life with my head down afraid to look up or get too involved in anything. Many years are blurs, guess it could have been the drugs and alcohol that helped me forget them. At this point I felt that nobody could help me. I walked with this secret that hung over me like a dark cloud that consumed me entirely. I wouldn’t spill this secret to a single soul until around the age of 16. (This is an estimate) 10 years is a long time to harbor this darkness with nobody to help me console what has happened or how to face it. I would shove it deep down inside of me and had become numb to the feeling with drugs and alcohol. I was just trying to get by and I felt too far gone to be helped and like most kids my age on the Reservation, I dropped out of high school. I turned 18 and had access to my Indian Money and wasted it on drugs, alcohol, meaningless items and even people that only hung out with me because I had money.

I'm cursed by this life I've lead

Could you fix me?

Because inside I think I'm dead

As someone that has finally taken the time to heal from that trauma, memories of my younger days still plague me. The memories from the years I wasted on drugging and drinking are permanent roommates in my mind. I now look to my counselor to help me, I know that you can never be fully “fixed”. What they don’t tell you when you embark on your healing journey is all the work is up to you and its hard work. You are responsible for your own healing. At first I felt so dead inside like it was pointless, here I am taking my healing into my own hands and it hurts. Therapy has a way of opening old wounds and it drags up some deep feelings that had been numb for years. But therapy has provided me tools to face and heal those wounds in a proper manner that I didn’t have as a young kid. Like I said before I numbed my feelings of guilt, shame and disgust with drugs and alcohol. So at a point I felt dead inside and a part of me still feels that way. I became accustomed to this feeling and almost like I don’t want to let that part of me go. (An identity crisis so to speak, who am I without that part of me?)

Anxiety creeps up my spine

And I lose all breath

As it smothers me

The world around me starts to fade to black

And I feel nothing again

I'm cold just like ice

Forgive me for thinking

That I would be just fine

This has come out in me in spurts of panic attacks here and there more prevalent lately than my early life. Just when I thought I could open up and be warming I find myself building walls to keep people distant from me. Once upon a time I felt like I was improving but healing is an ongoing process. Just when I thought I was past it all, I feel hopeless again as the compulsive thoughts of my past play like mini movie clips in my mind. When I am not busy my mind has time to provide playback, it’s haunting and is mentally draining.

'Cause I don't think my heart can take much more

Watching someone else I love, walk right out the door

And I feel that time's wasting away

Stuck with one foot in my grave

And I am so afraid

I am so afraid

Don’t leave me, I am sorry. I am sorry I am so fucked up. You will never know what I put myself through mentally every day. You will never understand where I come from. I will show you that I can be better, I just don’t want to be alone again.

I've lived my life

Under the shadow of doubt

I've lived my life

Beneath these darkened clouds

I've lived my whole life

Just trying to find a way to get by

Instead of fighting to make myself happy

And one day I'll tell my sons

To follow their dreams

No matter the chaos it brings

Life is too damn short

To wallow in our self-inflicted misery

And someday I'll prove to my sons

That I'm truly sorry for everything

Because I tried my best to love them

While also doing what's best for...

What's best for me

I want to live my life

Without regret

My final decision to seek professional help and heal was it started to coming up at parties, my defenses are down making me prone to be more open about myself. I was tired of being that one that brings the party down with my mental illnesses and my trauma. “Ooops, my trauma fell out.” Also, I wanted to show my nine year old daughter that it’s okay to ask for help. She shouldn’t have to feel the effects of my trauma, as it has it come with some irrational fears that I carry over onto her. I am working to reduce these but is a slow and steady process but I only hope she never feels what I felt or have gone through.

It's time to leave the regret, shame, guilt and all those dirty feelings behind. Why I am carrying this guilt around still? I didn’t do this to me, it should be on my abusers to walk with this guilt. But yet I struggle to let it go and live freely.

Sometimes I look in the mirror

Disgusted by my own reflection

That old familiar feeling

Creeps back up from the depths

To steal my breath again"

I fall into moments of self-hate and the feeling of disgust reinserts itself. I remember the guilt and the shame resurface. I think to myself “I thought I got rid of these feelings, why do I keep feeling this way?” The memories flood back and I feel a deep darkness starting to grow, aiming to take me over. Somedays I don’t want to get out of bed but I force myself to. I want to do better and not feel so disgusted of myself. It’s not my fault but all I do is punish myself.

Source: Musixmatch

Songwriters: Tyler Tate

[elylandon]

Part 1 - Chapter 12.1: Quarantine

Summary: You’re running for your life when you cross paths with an ex-bounty hunter and his small, green companion. You never thought you’d find someone throughout the whole galaxy who was as lost as you.

Pairing: The Mandalorian/Din Djarin x Female Reader

Word Count: 5,035 

Rating/Warnings: M for mature content. Swearing, hints of smut, etc. Also soft/domestic Din.

Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 

Note: (Dream AU - Slow Burn)  Thanks for reading! ❤

---

You woke groggily, coming to consciousness as if you were trying to break the surface of water. Light tickled at your eyelids. Natural light. Which wasn’t something that was normally found on the Razor Crest. 

You blinked against that light, and as your vision adjusted, you saw that you were in a room made of wood. The eastern wall was lined with three large windows, all of them open. A balmy spring breeze slid between sheer white curtains, making them sway. 

Where the hell…?

You sat up, confused. It was then that you realized you weren’t sleeping on your uncomfortable cot, but a large, cozy bed dressed in quaint and simple linen. When you glanced over, you took note of the unmade, empty second half of the bed. Apparently, you didn’t sleep in this bed alone.

Okay, seriously. What the hell?

You scrambled out of the bed, and made your way to the door opposite the windows. You had no idea where you were, and you needed to find answers. Best case scenario, Din had found a safe planet to squat on, and you’d apparently forgotten the landing part, the splurging-on-a-cabin part, and the sharing-a-bed-with-him part. Worst case, you had completely imagined the last two months of your life and were at one of Thasar’s many cabins, sharing a bed with one of his many business partners.  

That was highly unlikely, but you had always been rather paranoid. And for good reason, too. 

As you opened the door and swung out into a hallway, you called out a tentative, “Hello?” When you were met with the sound of approaching footsteps, you suddenly wished that you had your blaster on you. Really, what if it wasn’t Din? 

Your heartbeat picked up as the footsteps grew louder. You kept walking down the length of the hall, determined to meet them halfway. A figure turned the corner just as you reached it and you staggered back, heart dropping to the pit of your stomach. It most definitely wasn’t your armor-clad Mandalorian, nor anyone you recognized. 

It was a human man. He looked to be in his late thirties, with short, almost scruffy brown hair, high cheekbones, and brown eyes that were slightly clouded in concern. There was a somewhat patchy beard lining his jaw, and the beginnings of a mustache resting above his plump lips. It was strange how familiar his face was when you had never seen it before. 

However, before you could panic, he spoke, and you realized that you did know that face, just not by sight. 

“What’s wrong, Y/N?”

Your brows came together as you gaped at this man. It was his voice, and it was his face, as you had painted it in your mind after tracing his features only a day ago. But why was he here, standing before you without an inch of beskar, or a helmet-

You suddenly gasped and quickly clapped your hands over your eyes, heart slamming as the magnitude of what you had just done came crashing over you. You had seen his face! Din’s face! His oath, his Creed, all of it broken because of you. You swore under your breath and tried to back up, but Din’s hands caught your wrists. 

“What are you doing? What’s going on?”

“I-I’m so sorry! I saw you. I didn’t m-mean to. I didn’t know it was you coming around the corner, or that you wouldn’t be wearing your helmet. I should have been more careful. Fuck! I’m sorry!”

There was a slight pause before Din slowly said, “I haven’t worn my helmet in over three months, Y/N.”

“W-what?” you stuttered, keeping your eyes covered. For all the good that would do; you had already seen him. 

With some effort, Din gently pulled your hands away from your face, and instructed you to open your eyes, claiming that you had seen his face everyday since he had taken the helmet off for good. 

“I have?” you asked as you looked back up at him, still bewildered. “Why did you stop wearing it?”

Meeting Din’s brown eyes again-- wow, they were just as warm and rich as you had always imagined them-- you found that he was staring at you intensely, brows furrowed, eyes searching. When you asked him that question, his eyes only narrowed further, and the way he was observing you was almost that of suspicion. 

Then, abruptly, he sucked in a sharp breath and his eyes widened as if realizing something. One of his hands let go of your wrist and shot up, smacking against your forehead. You grunted and blinked up at him. 

“Ow, Din, what the hell are you-”

“You’re warm,” was his only explanation. “Come on.” His other hand moved to yours before tugging you along behind him as he moved out of the hall. You dazedly followed after him.

He’d taken off his helmet three months ago? For good? And you’d been living with him since then, seeing his face every day? Why? Why had he stopped wearing his armor? Why were the two of you living here? Why couldn’t you remember any of it?

Din guided you through a small dining area that connected to a spectacular kitchen with pristinely white appliances. The two rooms were separated by a breakfast bar at which Din halted for a moment before laying his hands on your waist and hoisting you onto a bar stool. You let him, at this point just riding along the confusing roller coaster until you got some answers. 

Din reached over and opened the cupboard above one end of the bar and rummaged through what looked like a medicine cabinet. He quickly found what he was looking for and turned back to you, holding it out. It was a thermometer. 

“Here. Put this under your tongue.”

As if you weren’t already completely lost. 

“You want to take my temperature? Why?”

“You thought the cough you’ve been having over the last few days was because of allergies, but now you’re exhibiting signs of confusion and you’re heating up. That’s too many symptoms. We need to see if you have a fever or not.”

“Symptoms of what? And what allergies? I’ve only ever reacted to the pollen on-”

Your words stopped dead in your throat as your head jerked towards the sliding glass door in the dining room. You scrambled off the bar stool and slid around Din, who released his signature sigh of annoyance and followed you as you rushed over to the door. Looking outside, you saw that the cabin was surrounded by a lush forest that seemed so achingly familiar. The trees were tall and looming, birds flitting between branches, moss creeping up their trunks. The sky peeking through them was blue and dotted with white, puffy clouds. Wildflowers and tall grass blanketed the dirt floor, swaying in that spring breeze. Other planets exhibited similar ecosystems, you knew that, but this? None of them ever matched this so completely, nothing ever feeling the same as your childhood home. 

Tears sprung to your eyes, and you tried to breathe, finding that your lungs were having as difficult a time processing this as your brain was. 

Shakily, you said, "Is this… a-are we…" 

You couldn't even finish your thoughts. Was it really possible that you were… back on Earth? You hardly took notice that Din was hovering until he reached around you, snagged your chin between his fingers, and pulled you back to face him. Then, he shoved the thermometer into your mouth. 

"Under your tongue," he demanded, and you were so completely gone, you automatically did as you were told. When Din was satisfied, he nodded. 

“While we wait for that, I’m going to ask you some questions. Just nod yes or no. Afterwards, we’ll try to alleviate some of your confusion, alright?”

You agreed. 

“Are you experiencing any shortness of breath?”

Aside from just this moment as you were silently freaking out about the whole situation, no, you were breathing just fine. You shook your head.

“Body aches? Chills?”

No. 

“Fatigue?”

No. 

“Headaches?”

No.

“Sore throat?”

No. 

The thermometer chirped and Din instantly snatched it from your mouth. You huffed at him, starting to feel a little annoyed. Not only were you confused about where you were, what was going on, and why you were missing three months of your life, but now he was hounding you like you had some unknown ailment. If it was any other moment, his fussing might have been… cute. Now, though? Kind of frustrating, actually.

When he sighed, shoulders relaxing in relief as he inspected the thermometer, you said, “Do I pass, Dr. Djarin?”

He quirked a brow at you, and you were taken aback for a short moment by how fascinating it was to see his reactions in his facial features, and not just in his body language. You shook yourself out of it, though, and waited for your explanation. 

“No fever. And the lack of other symptoms is a good sign. However, this confusion you have is extensive, so I’m going to keep an eye on you until I’m sure it’s not an actual symptom.”

“Again I ask, a symptom of what? What the hell is going on?”

Din gestured for you to sit at the bar again, and asked, “What’s the last thing you remember?” You tried to think of the last thing you did before falling asleep the night before. 

“We were on the Crest, in the cockpit, and you were telling me about one of your bounties. The one that tried to convince you that you were actually after his twin brother.”

“And you fell asleep in your chair.”

“Right!” you exclaimed.

“Even after all those times I told you not to because doing so made you sore.”

“Uh, right,” you murmured sheepishly. 

Din shook his head disapprovingly, then explained how a few days after that, the two of you had been getting sick of searching for someplace safe to go, but realizing that no matter where you went, bounty hunters would soon follow. That was when you suggested Earth. You meant it to be an offhand joke, knowing full well that it was a nearly impossible trek. But that was the point, Din realized. Nobody would be stupid enough to follow a bounty there. 

Din started to explain how exactly the three of you made it to Earth, but that part of the explanation became strangely out of focus for you. No matter how hard you concentrated, you couldn’t seem to comprehend Din’s words, and everything around you blurred. It almost seemed like there was a thick wall of cloudy glass between you, and his words became garbled as they tried to penetrate it. Eventually, you got tired of asking him to repeat himself and motioned for him to continue. 

Din found the intergalactic underground you had been sold to, and converted all the credits you had gathered from looting Thasar’s things into American currency. It actually wound up being quite a considerable amount, and the two of you used it to buy this cabin. Unfortunately, if Din wanted to find work, he couldn’t go around in a full suit of beskar armor. People would think he’d just stepped out of some kind of sci-fi convention, and wouldn’t take him seriously. Unlike anywhere else in the galaxy, Mandalorians just didn’t exist here.

So he put the armor away, and found a job in the nearby city as Earth’s version of a bounty hunter. You held up your part of the job, and watched over the child while he was gone. Only, it wasn’t so much a job anymore. All of it had started to feel rather… domestic. 

It was comfortable, and quaint, and nice… until a few weeks ago, when countries all over the world started shutting down because of some sort of virus pandemic. In order to slow the spread of the virus, everyone was encouraged to stay home and practice social distancing. It was meant to be temporary, but it had gone on for weeks now, with apparently no end in sight. 

“So that’s why you asked me all those questions. The cough, the confusion, and a possible fever are symptoms of this virus, along with all those other things?”

“Yes. Although, at this point, I’m just being paranoid. The three of us have been living here in isolation for so long, if any of us actually had the illness, we would have known it a few weeks ago. I’m just being overly cautious.”

“It sounds serious, I don’t blame you.”

So… that was it. That was the last twelve weeks of your life. You and Din had found a way to travel to Earth, bought a cabin, started living a life far away from the outer reaches of the galaxy, and were now under quarantine from this virus. But, how could you have forgotten all that? How could you have forgotten seeing Din’s face for the first time, or living in this domestic bliss with him for so long? Why was the last thing you could recall the child sitting on your stomach, playing with his silver ball as you fell asleep at an ungodly angle in your co-pilot’s chair to the sound of Din’s rough, modulated voice? Was it really a sign that you were coming down with this illness?

“I still can’t make heads or tails of all this. And if this confusion, this lapse in memory, really is a symptom, shouldn’t I isolate myself even more from the two of you?”

Din shook his head. 

“It wouldn’t matter. The virus sits in your system for weeks without anyone being the wiser. If you’ve had it all this time, which I highly doubt, then we’d have it too.”

“I think we should try to go through the day as normally as possible. Do all the things we’ve been doing since the quarantine started, and see if it jogs your memory.” 

You nodded slowly. “So, what do we do now?”

Din thought about it for a second. 

You glanced around the cozy cabin, hoping something might grab your attention and help you remember. “I don’t have any better ideas. What exactly have we been doing since we’ve been cooped up here?”

“Well,” Din sighed, glancing out the back door. “We normally take this time that the kid is still asleep to get in some target practice and training. But I have a feeling that, with the memory loss, the comfort you’ve been gaining in the last couple months will be gone.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, tilting your head. “I’m comfortable with target practice.”

“With blasters, yes. But we’ve been working with guns in order to blend in better here.” You’re stomach lurched. 

“Oh.” Guns. Blasters were one thing. Zekir had initially helped you get used to them. But guns? The last time you had seen one… you shuddered.

Din’s eyes narrowed, observing you. All those times that he’d done this before, it really had been the weight of his gaze that you were feeling behind that visor. That weight in your chest now, it was still the same. As were the butterflies coming to life in your stomach at his attention. Finally, he nodded, coming to a conclusion. 

“We’ll stick to the simple things for now. No need to jump in the deep end just yet.”

“Alright. How about we do something we’ve done here that we couldn’t ever do on the Razor Crest, or while we planet hopped through space?” He hummed in agreement, understanding where your thoughts were going.

“The kid likes to explore the woods, so we go on walks every day. But we’ll have to wait for him to wake up first.”

“What else?” 

After another pause to think, Din’s lips twitched and morphed into a small, crooked grin. Your heart stuttered just at the sight of it. 

“Binge watching.” 

Just then, that strange blurring moment from before occurred again. One moment you were wondrously staring at Din’s soft smile, the next you were in a living room, standing in front of a bookcase cluttered with music, books, games, and movies. So many movies. There seemed to be a few television shows mixed in as well, with so many unfamiliar titles jumping out at you, all you could do was stare. Clearly being back on Earth had spurred you into experiencing, reading, and seeing everything you had missed in the last ten years. You figured that’s what Din meant by “binge watching.”

“Where do we even start?” you asked incredulously. Din chuckled.

“Honestly, this is more your thing, and I’m just sort of along for the ride. So pick whatever jumps out at you, and I’ll let you know if we’ve watched it or not.”

“Okay. What about this?”

You pulled out a particularly aesthetically pleasing box from the collection and examined the front. Game of Thrones. You were sure you hadn’t seen or heard of it when you were last on Earth, but you always used to enjoy fantasy stories, so it looked interesting enough. However, Din made face, brows and nose scrunching as he shook his head. 

“You’re currently boycotting that one. It’s a show, and we got around four seasons in. You weren’t really enjoying it to begin with; there was a lot of gore and themes you didn’t care for. You were trying to stick with it, though, because you liked the story and some of the characters. But then we got to a particularly gruesome death scene and you haven’t watched it since.”

“Do I even want to know?” you asked, casting him a furtive glance. He shook his head.

“I’m pretty sure your exact words were ‘I could have gone my whole life without seeing that.’”

You shuddered and replaced the box back onto the shelf, then continued browsing. Your eyes fell upon several flashy-looking movies lined up in a row and your jaw dropped. 

“Whoa! Are these all Marvel movies?” Din nodded. “They had only released Iron Man and The Incredible Hulk in this cinematic universe before I left. There has to be twenty other movies here.”

Din reached up and plucked three movies from the collection. The moment you saw their covers a huge smile broke out across your face and you started to bounce with excitement.

“You were pretty excited about those, but, for the sake of what we’re trying to do right now, why don’t we start with something smaller?”

“The Lord of the Rings! Yes, let’s watch those. They’re my-”

“-your favorite, I know. I had to stop you a few times from re-watching them over and over again, including the companion movies. But I think I can make an exception in this case.”

You blinked up at him.

“Companion movies?”

Din full on smirked then, and reached for three other boxes. This time your jaw hit the floor. 

“The Hobbit! No way! They turned that book into a movie too?”

“Three movies, which seems like a bit much, but you weren’t complaining.”

You were absolutely vibrating at this point, and Din had to tell you to stop squirming several times as the two of you settled down to watch The Fellowship of the Ring. Just as the movie was starting, a hesitant cooing had you both glancing over to find the child standing in the living room entrance, ears drooping from sleep. As if you weren’t already full of giddy happiness, seeing him was the frosting on your cake.

As far as you knew, you had just seen him the night before on the Crest. But after everything Din had told you, it suddenly felt like months. You wanted nothing more than to hold him close to your chest, and watch him babble a seemingly elaborate story at you while you pretended to understand it

So you quickly leaned down and scooped him up as he waddled over, and he effectively made himself comfortable by somehow sitting on both of your laps and wriggling into both of your sides. 

“Aawww,” you couldn’t help but croon, softly grazing your finger over one of his ears. 

“Mmm,” Din murmured suspiciously. “He’s buttering you up so you forget the fact that he’s still escaping his room at night.”

“Well it’s definitely working.”

He shot you a disapproving look. Perhaps this was an ongoing problem you kept getting suckered into forgiving by the adorable creature nestled against you. Regardless, you only shrugged and smirked. 

“Give me a break. I’m suffering from a memory lapse here, remember?”

He sighed, and it was both mesmerizing and amusing to see the amount of emotions flit across his features as he did so. So much different than hearing the sound through a filter, and watching his shoulders sag in defeat. You snuggled in closer to him and the child, beaming from ear to ear, and settled in for the long movie. 

The day passed quickly after that. It seemed strange, that bizarre blurring from before bringing moments in and out of focus. 

Din absolutely refusing to let you sit there and watch another eight or so hours of The Lord of the Rings trilogy. The three of you walking through the forest as you watched the child hunt for frogs. Making BLT sandwiches for lunch and enjoying them in the open spring air. Playing hide-and-seek with the child while Din handled work-related things in the study. Finally convincing him to at least start The Two Towers, but dozing through most of it with the child. Baked chicken, potatoes, and string beans for dinner, and angel food cake with strawberries and whipped cream for dessert. Playing Legos with the kid in his room until he grew tired, then reading him to sleep. 

It was such a… vanilla kind of day. That was the only way you could describe it. It was so simple, and blissful, and happy. It was the kind of day you hadn’t experienced in over twenty years, and you couldn’t believe you got to live like this, every day, with your child, and the man you cared so deeply for. You were safe, content, and fulfilled. As if all the fighting you’ve had to do since your parents had passed, all the suffering you’ve had to endure, all the darkness swirling inside of you, it all led to this. 

There was such a clear parting in your life. Before, and after. Before these two had stumbled into your world, all you had been doing was existing. But now? Now you were living. 

When the two of you were alone in your room that night, Din checked your temperature again, and frowned when you still didn’t have a fever. 

“No fever is a good thing, isn’t it?” you asked, shucking off the day’s clothes and changing into an oversized shirt to sleep in. It was in your drawers, but you were pretty sure it actually belonged to Din. 

When you glanced over at him, you found him watching you, but not in a way a woman would like to be watched by her partner as she changed. His eyes were narrowed again, studying your movements warily, once again assessing the changes in you that came with your memory loss. 

“What’s wrong?” you asked him, perplexed. Changing in front of him wasn’t a new thing, even in just your own memories. Even before your relationship together had changed, you had always felt comfortable doing so, as it wasn’t like he was going to see anything he hadn’t seen before. Or see anything others hadn’t seen before him. As long as you shifted in a way that he couldn’t see your scars, it never bothered-

Oh. 

It seemed that, with the memory loss, all the comforts you’d found in your relationship with him over the last few months really were gone. For the entire day, that must have felt strange to him. Maybe even a little sad too. But, of course, he would never admit as much. He was still more concerned about your health than anything else. 

“I just don’t get it,” he muttered. “You’re not sick, and you were fine yesterday. And yet, here you are, missing three months of your life. Nothing we did today helped you remember anything either.” 

With clear frustration, he pulled the blankets back from his side of the bed, and sat, leaning his back against the headboard and crossing his arms. He sighed heavily, thinking. “Maybe it has something to do with your powers.”

“Maybe,” you hummed, then bit your lip, eyes jumping between him and the empty space on the bed, an idea forming in your mind. 

As he seemed to lose himself in his thoughts, you slowly crept closer, and carefully climbed onto your side of the bed.

“I mean, maybe I just need to sleep, and come tomorrow morning, I’ll remember everything.” 

“Hmm,” Din murmured in distracted agreement, still oblivious to your movements. You scooted closer to him still, and it was only when you fully slipped onto his lap, that his focus returned, and those beautifully warm brown eyes snapped up to meet yours. 

“Or maybe,” you started softly, straddling him and laying your hands on his broad shoulders. “There are a few other things we could still try.”

“Y/N,” he began, tone not quite assenting. You raised your brows, head tilting a little as you brushed your fingers up his neck. He visibly swallowed, but his eyes steeled over with resolve. 

“I don’t think-”

“Before you make that argument,” you interrupted. “Let me just ask you this. Whether this happened a day ago in my memory, or a day ago in yours, either way I was okay with it, right?”

“Yes.”

“And you said that if I wanted you to stop, that was all I had to say and you would?”

“Yes.”

“And what did I say in return?” you asked, fingers trailing against his jaw now, remembering the lines you had traced there the last time you had touched his face. Din’s eyes studied you, resolve melting into a blazing fire that sent your insides dancing. Carefully, his large, calloused hands tickled over your bare thighs. 

“That you didn’t want me to stop.”

“I still mean that,” you murmured, moving forward, breath stalling in anticipation. 

The second your lips touched his, Din reacted. He was so fast. Had he always been this fast? One moment you were hovering over him, the next his hands were gripping your thighs, and you yelped as he flipped you onto your back. You blinked up at him dazedly, and his lips twitched, his expression just the tiniest bit smug.

“Still mean it?” he asked. 

“Oh, definitely,” you breathed, reaching up and folding your arms around his shoulders as his mouth crushed yours in a bruising kiss. 

His hands skipped up your thighs and slipped under the hem of your shirt. It quickly dawned on you that, unlike before, he was completely free of armor, and you planned to take full advantage of that. As his hands moved up along your sides, yours glided down over his shoulder blades, taking inventory of each dip and rise of bone, and muscle, and skin, relishing in just how exposed he was, your Mandalorian warrior. 

Not exposed enough, though. His damn shirt was still in the way. 

You grabbed a fistful of the fabric and tugged. Din complied and pulled back for a brief moment to allow you to yank his shirt off. You laughed a little as his face reappeared, a dazzling grin stretching across his face from ear to ear. But then that laugh morphed into a moan as he kissed you again, hungrier than before. His hands found the spot they had left off as he fit himself over you again, and his thumb carefully grazed against the underside of your breast. You writhed, urging him to continue, fingers burying themselves into his disheveled hair, hips moving up to meet his, friction sparking as your core brushed against his-

You jerked upright, gasping, breathing labored as your eyes took in the drastic change of a lit, wooden room, to the dark, metallic surroundings of the Razor Crest. You quickly glanced around, confused and struggling against the strange sensations you were feeling. Your lips felt swollen, your chest light with pure, unabashed happiness, your insides burning from- well, you didn’t really know what, but it wasn’t an unpleasant feeling at least. 

You sat up a little straighter, pulling yourself out of the ungodly position you always seemed to find yourself in when you fell asleep in your co-pilot’s chair, back leaning against one armrest, legs dangled over the other. The child was laying on your stomach, dozing, and you looked up to see Din casting you a curious glance over his shoulder from his own chair.

“Another nightmare?” he asked quietly.

Your brows furrowed together as you tried to remember. 

“N-no. I-I don’t think so. It was a good dream. I just don’t… remember it.”

You reached up and massaged your temples, disappointed that the dream was already slipping away. Why was it that you could remember the nightmares so vividly, but when a nice dream came along, it was gone before you were fully awake to process it? As you tried to recall it, you stretched, groaning at the soreness in your back and neck. You heard Din release a modulated sigh. 

“I keep telling you to stop falling asleep in the chair like that.”

You smirked over at him. 

“Hey, I think you said that in my dream.”

“So you do remember it.”

“Only bits and pieces,” you grumbled. “Like white curtains, The Lord of the Rings, your voice, some kind of global virus…”

“That… doesn’t sound good. At least not that part.”

You shook your head again, giving up. Din studied you for a moment, then said, “Either way, it’s good that you’re awake. I-” he paused, considering. “I received a message while you were asleep.”

“From who?” Again, he hesitated. 

“From the man who originally started me on this path.” Din’s helmet tilted in the child’s direction. “Greef Karga.”

---

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[lost-in-the-spectrum]

Additional disorders and conditions with Autism

Hello Folks,

 there I am with a new post about the Autism-Spectrum-Disorder. This time with a special post including experiences by other  too.

Today I’ll talk with you about the several different diseases people with the Autism-Spectrum-Disorder have to deal with in addition. And as in every other post of me this post is all about each single person who told me about these things. Not every autistic person got the same following additonal diseases, yet there are many of them having the same disease in common. I’m not talking about one or two people having disorders etc. besides their Autism. I am talking about srsly at least 10 people who told me and confirmed that they suffer because of following conditions too. And after talking with these people about it for a longer time I figured out that autistic people usually suffer of other diseases because of their, in general, special condition. Let’s start the topic so that you know what I mean.

 1st Depressions: Autistic people often suffer because of depressions. It is a disease which appears srsly often, not only with autistic people but also with people without an Autism diagnosis.

Autistic people (A-typical, Aspergers, Kanners, Highfunctional etc.) often become depressive because of their “different being” and “odd behavior” which seems strange to other people and makes Autists feel incredibly bad and lonely. Especially at school, in childhood or as a teenager, people who hardly know a thing about Autism find autistic people odd and do hesitate to get to know them as well as people with Autism got issues with even getting in contact with their class-mates, even tho they’re the same age. All I personally learned is that children and teenagers can be rude sometimes. These young people are seeking for a group to belong to, for friendships and contacts or a membership in a certain group so that children or teenagers (without knowing the consequences for their behavior) tend to bully people who seem different than others. This is unfortunately because the influence of other kids at school seems stronger sometimes than the own social moral. So people who are different, like autistic people, often get bullied or at least  by their class-mates which causes Depressions pretty easily. I am one of these bully victims too. So I know that this is the sad truth.

 2nd Borderline: By watching people with autism you can probably tell that having autism, having this different kind of view about life, is kinda similar to a borderline disorder. Autistic people tend to get a so-called ‘melt-down’ (an extrem kind of overload and mental break down) which makes them often hurt themselves (self-harm). Hitting and biting themselves is for example what happens the most when these people are having a mental break down. Also most autistic people do only have either a black or white “sight”, things are either very bad or very good. There is hardly something in between. In addition people with autism are getting angry and stressed much more often than other people, which is also one of the symptomes for Borderline. Talking to other affected these people also confirmed to have a borderline diagnosis in addition because their behavior and symptomes do not always appear with Aspergers (o.e.). Yet many of them do have it: Asking in a post in a facebookgroup I had about 30 replies, 10 of them told about their borderline disorder. I’ve probably got it too but I have no official diagnosis.

 3rd Mutism: Probably you’ve heard about it. It is a condition which makes people mute. They do not talk to anybody and sometimes they don’t talk at all. In some cases these people talk to only special people with a special meaning in their lifes but most of the time people with Mutism suffer from not being able to talk at all. That doesn’t mean that they are literally mute. These people just can’t say a thing and struggle with letting a single sound out, even tho they know they could and even tho they’d really like to.

 4th Marfan Syndrome: “a genetic disorder that affects the connective tissue.[1] Those with the condition tend to be tall and thin, with long arms, legs, fingers, and toes.[1] They also typically have overly-flexible joints and scoliosis.[1] The most serious complications involve the heart and aorta, with an increased risk of mitral valve prolapse and aortic aneurysm.[1][5] The lungs, eyes, bones, and the covering of the spinal cord are also commonly affected.[1] The severity of the symptoms of MFS is variable.[1] “ (source: Wikipedia) I needed to copy and paste the definition of this disorder because I have NEVER EVER heard of it before!

 5th Irritable bowel syndrome: A widespread condition involving recurrent abdominal pain and diarrhea or constipation, often associated with stress, depression, anxiety, or previous intestinal infection. As I have already told you on the top autistic people tend to depressions and anxiety. In other posts I also told you that these people tend to get stressed pretty easily and also often which is the reason why those people suffer of horrbile pain in their stomach. I have also read in the internet that medicals once examined feces by different people who suffered from these issues and many of these people had an Autism diagnosis. Also I do often suffer of horrible pain and long sit ins on the toilet, really often in combination with hard sweating and feeling sick most of the time. I have thought that I might have an intolerance to lactose or else for a quite long time... until I had days without any kind of stress and I had no sort of pain during these moments of peace.

 6th High sensitivity: As I have already mentioned people with Autism are mostly high sensitive. They smell, hear and feel things much more extreme than other people which is why they often need sun glasses ot noise-canceling-headphones to survive and make the day. Not every autistic person is that sensitive tho. Some are even good at dealing with these stimulations. Yet it is a disorder or disease most of these people suffer from.

 7th Giftedness: You might think “Wait a minute, what is so bad in being gifted and super smart?” Well, a lot. Have you ever felt so unchallenged that it almost makes you depressive? Have you ever made experiences with people who are jealous on your gift and hating you for only that so that they tend to bully you? Have you ever felt upset and also depressive because you know what exactly is going wrong in the world while other people hardly think of it and focus on other things you can’t focus on because they literally bore you to hell? Have you ever had problems with finding a perfect job because even the most interesting and difficult job seems to easy for you? And have you ever felt lonely not (only) because you are different but also because there are hardly people you could talk with about tricky things and every normal conversation freaks you out because you find it dumb?

Those are conditions I know and heard of, there are much more for sure. Idk what you think but I think it is incredible to see what kind of conditions other conditions can bring. Maybe you recognize yourselves in this, if so: Let me know, as always!

[ahiddenpath]

Life Talk

1.)  I won Nanowrimo

2.)  My house is sold

3.)  I’m tryyyyyyying to taking it easy

More below the cut.

So, I won Nanowrimo.  It’s roughly 30K Four Years and 20K Tri: Integrity Lens.  I feel very... blank about it, though.  In the last few years, I’ve been trying to celebrate when I win Nanowrimo, but...  I don’t have any emotions about it this year, probably even less than usual.

I should probably back up and say that, when I was growing up, I was the type that got all As, won every contest, was the lead in plays and singing events, got the good behavior awards, won state-wide science and poetry contests, was on the select sports teams.  I’m not saying this to brag- I was hyper-involved in school and extracurriculars because it kept me away from home.  

It got to the point at home where, if I won an award, the reaction was, “good.”  If I didn’t, it was, “Why didn’t you win that award?  We don’t have money for tutoring, so you had better figure it out *vague threat* ”  Stuff like that.

Basically, it’s hard for me to feel proud of anything.  If I succeed, that’s “baseline.”  Good, I won’t be scolded.  If I don’t, that’s anxiety- “I will be scolded, I will be punished.”  

I can’t change that concept as an adult- it was cemented into me during my formative years.  But I can see it, and I can tell myself- it’s okay.  Don’t beat yourself up over not feeling a certain way.

The big thing on my mind now, still, is that we sold our first home successfully a few days ago.  It’s the most enormous load off my mind.  This whole time, I’ve been wondering- I keep pinning everything on when the house is sold.  Will it actually be a relief?  Will it actually free up emotional and mental real estate?

SPOILER ALERT: IT DID, I FEEL GREAT!  

I told my therapist that I couldn’t feel “at home” and “settled” until I sold the old house, and she challenged me to not wait for some kind of...  Permission?  Catalyst?  Like, don’t put things off citing “my old home isn’t sold” as a reason, because suddenly, a year will have passed and you still haven’t painted your room or put up photos or turned the house into your home.

I absolutely see her point, but I also see mine.  Frankly, now that I’m not paying for two mortgages, I can afford to do some of that stuff (buy paint and supplies, buy a rug, buy a lamp, etc).  It is true that I could have hung my photos at any time, so that was just a mental/stress block, but I do think that pointing to the money that was tied up in paying the mortgages for both homes, and for repairing things at the old home at the buyer’s demand, was... you know, a valid reason not to be throwing money at our current home.

Right now, my anxiety is free to be directed at the fact that the CDC is forecasting such drastic pandemic leaps.  It’s expected to hit in about 10-ish days after today, 11/29, a Sunday that will likely be the largest single day for travel as people head back home in droves to make it to work on Monday after going away for Thanksgiving.  It’s expected that we’ll be seeing 4,000 covid deaths per day in the states around week 2/3 of December.

I really don’t want to go to work physically, because I know coworkers who travelled.  I wish we could all stay home for two weeks, when the symptoms will show for carriers who are not asymptomatic.  I will definitely be limiting my time in the office to after 3 PM, when a lot of coworkers have gone home.  It’s still a risk that I’m not sure is worthwhile.  

Ah!  I should probably say that my therapist is talking about ending therapy.  I started in... I wanna say March or April of 2019?  Is that right?  So I guess it’s been...  Like, 19-ish months?  I’ve learned so much, but I would say...  The biggest difference is that I can see my behavior patterns for what they are, and then decide what to do with them.  I haven’t “changed” at my core.  I can’t, not in the way people mean when they say “you’ve changed.”  The same learned behaviors, belief systems, and emotions from my childhood are there.  I just recognize them when they pop up and can make informed decisions about how to approach them.  

Which, it turns out, makes a huge difference, even if it isn’t really “change.”  I’m always in danger of being too distraught to see what’s in front of my face, though (thanks, anxiety!).

What else...  My husband and I did cheese fondue and hot pot for Thanksgiving!  It was easily the best holiday I’ve ever had.  Holidays are always... so high pressure, always such events that turn a day off into a giant list of chores that might span weeks to complete beforehand.  Plus, I’m always hoping I’m not about to be dragged into some kind of “trap” conversation by both my family and my husband’s, who have very different political views compared to me.

But on Thanksgiving, my husband and I ate amazing food, spent a lot of time together, and I felt so loved and cared for and valued, because my husband came up with the idea and made it happen, all so we’d have a nice holiday together.  Honestly, I don’t deserve him.  I don’t get it.  He’s so amazing?  I love him so much.

As for my writing, I’ve been feeling...  Bad about it, frankly.  I think it’s partially because it honestly looks like no one is reading Tri: Integrity Lens.  I don’t get it?  It was my most requested story in 2018/2019, and I know people wanted a sequel to Growing Up with You, so why is TIL doing so poorly?  At first, I thought people were going back to read GUWY again first, since I saw a huge surge in hits for it.  Now, I’m not sure?  Like, if I open my stats, some random GUWY chapters will have over 10 times the hits as the newest TIL chapter???  ???? ????  ????  ?????

I’m wondering if it has to do with Tri itself...  I think that, the more time passed, the more people who liked Tri are maybe defensive about how... negative the fandom reaction was, overall.  Meanwhile, people who dislike it, I think, have maybe simply... chucked it out the window, and don’t think about it much.  Whereas, when it was still coming out and directly after it wrapped up, I think people who disliked Tri were more interested in imagining ways they might have personally tweaked it.

That makes things awkward for someone like me, who thinks Tri has amazing moments basically... tacked onto a crumbling base.  

Actually, let me give you my weird metaphor for Tri!

When I am deciding if I’m going to write a new fic, often what happens is...  A few powerful ideas coalesce, a few themes and characterizations.  Some people say they are lead by a few powerful scenes.  I think of these ideas/themes/character ideas (or scenes for other people) as sparkling ornaments on a Christmas tree.

The problem is that...  Ornaments in a box don’t... do much.  You need to display them on a tree, right?  The ornaments need to be connected and supported by a plot (unless you decide to write a focused oneshot, which is my recommendation in most cases).

In short: Tri has amazing ornaments, but the tree is... not... doing that well.  The ideas are there, there are plenty of awesome moments, but something about the actual story/execution just...  Didn’t do it for me.  But dang, those are some nice ornaments!

That was quick and dirty, but hopefully it conveyed the general idea.  

ANYWAY, I’ve been trying to decide if I’m going to continue TIL.  I think right now, I would definitely finish Ketsui, since I have so much material written already.  Why waste it, right?  But I’m not sure what the future of the story will be- not plot wise, but rather, “is my time better spent elsewhere”-wise.

I’m not sure if I need to focus on a new story, if I should take a break, or what.  I need to write for my mental health, but it doesn’t have to be a fanfic.  It can be anything, as long as I explore whatever is eating at me.

And that is where I am!  I hope you’re all staying safe <3