#my autistic ass nearly fainted

[aeriona]

This is literally the coolest thing i,ve ever done eever Uni sucks sometimes but asjorfkfkdowso I’m foaming at the mouth it’s a SQUIDD!!! I GOT TO STUDY A REAL SQUID!!!!!!!!!!!

the specimen wasn’t labelled, but given the fin length & shape combined with the fact that he was caught in the south indicated to me that he’s probably sepioteuthis australis? His lowermost arms were even hectocotylized, meaning the squid’s male!

I could even see all the sucker teeth and the chromatophores and AAHHHJFFGGKGKG SO COOLLLL

[thlayli-ra]

Looked at the whump prompts and the “sensory overload” prompt spoke to me.

And since I feel like I very much relate to Punk and project my issues into him sometimes in my private writings and I’m autistic sooo…. I wanna see Punk suffer in a relatable way but not written by me✨✨

😬

(Oh Kat, you chose the only prompt on that wheel I had no idea what to do with. Sensory overload is not something I'm personally familiar with, but I've given it my best shot and hope it captures some of the experience. I also had to watch that lovely Punk/Regal match so that's an added bonus!)

Trick - 'Sensory Overload'

Characters - CM Punk, William Regal

Rating - Teen and up

Warnings - Blood, mention of vomit, in-ring cruelty

It wasn't that he expected Regal to be an easy opponent. The opposite, in fact. As soon as he heard those deep, ominous thrums announcing the English veteran as his 'mystery opponent', Punk knew he was in for a rough night.

It's just that... he didn't expect it to all to go to shit as suddenly as it did.

In the beginning, it was pretty standard. The pair of them traded blows, Regal stiffing every single one of his as wrestlers of his generation tended to do whenever they faced against a younger, fresher-faced opponent. Didn't matter to Regal that Punk had been in this business for nearly half of his life now, he was still some upstart that needed taking down a peg or two. Didn't help that Punk was a little more mouthy and confident than most.

Despite the added bite to each blow, Punk gritted his teeth and dug his heels in deeper. Absorbing the punishment to prove his toughness. For in the end, that's all that mattered to these old-school boys - toughness, grit. And in his heart, Punk had always considered himself old-school.

But then he got flung into the corner. The second punch made contact. Right on the crooked point of his nose. Pain erupted across his face, his eyes began to stream and the porcelain crack hit his eardrums from inside his skull. He crumpled to the ground, knees clattering against the boards beneath the canvas, making them bounce and his body sway as he tried to asses the damage done to his nose.

Broken, he was certain of it and when sticky gloop began tricking down the back of his throat, it all but confirmed it.

Regal hadn't noticed. Or had but didn't care. Probably the latter. Next thing Punk knew he was being man-handled further onto the apron, shoved down onto his back. And he could feel the course fibres of the canvas scrubbing against the bare skin of his shoulders and back and thighs and the blood began to flow down the back of his throat and now it was clotting around the rims of his nostrils, on the brink of bursting free-

When Regal's mammoth boot punched against his temple! Smashing the other side of Punk's head against the metal turnbuckle with a clang and the pain went fucking nuclear. Screeching down every vein and vessel and synapse in his brain like a high-voltage electric shock and when he tried to sit up, he nearly fainted or threw up or both.

Shit!

Yet even then, Regal gave him no room for breath, no mercy. The nightmarish shark had smelt the blood now splattered across its prey's face and had rolled its eyes in, readying for the kill. Clubbing Punk in the back of his head, he palmed him across his busted face, forcing him back down before plunging the solid plate of his knee cap (and all 240lbs of his body weight) into the shattered cartilage. The agony burst, the frame of his skull buckled beneath the pressure before snapping back. And the canvas scrubbed his skin and the blood gushed out his nose and down his throat and he coughed to try and shift it, gurgling on his own red-soaked spit.

And still Regal attacked. Like a feral dog shredding a chew toy. Grinding his knee again and again and Punk tried to fight back but the agony was over-whelming and his hands were clumsy, his arms flailed and the canvas was rasping against his shoulder blades like sand-paper. He wanted off the canvas, he needed off the canvas!

But Regal mounted him, pinning his tattered shoulders against the mat. Punk kicked out. Another pin. Punk kicked out. Regal shoved him down again, driving his entire forearm into the splintered shards of Punk's nose. Punk turned his head, tried to fight off the assault and found enough strength to kick out again.

His face was a sticky mess now, splatters across his cheeks and lips and even across his chest. Wet and gluey and hot, burning even compared to his flushed, sweat-skimmed skin. And his head pulsed from temple-to-temple, vibrating like the struck symbol of a drum kit. The arena was spinning around him, a blaze of contorted faces and bright lights and blaring noise, turning in uneven, heaving circles and the feeling in his gut was getting worse and he really thought he was going to be sick but he couldn't be sick, not until he finished the match and got to the back and a voice suddenly piped up in his skull, wondering if his vomit would be red too and he shook it away because that wasn't fucking important right now and the boards were bouncing again but it wasn't him moving it was-

Regal grabbed him by the shoulder, yanked it back. The other hand gripped a fistful of his hair, creaked Punk up onto his knees in order to snare his other shoulder. Those same chafed, red-raw shoulders were now being slowly prised out of their sockets, the pain trickling from his head into his deltoids and trapeziums and even then the agony in his head was still all-consuming and the blood gathered up in his throat again and he had to gasp through it to scream 'no' whenever the ref asked him if he was giving up. And his shoulders were hauled back even more, large palms driving his neck forward, dull throbbing shooting back and forth across his upper back. Regal was trying to weaken his shoulders, prevent him from being able to set up his finisher, the GTS.

Fight back! Fight back!

He listened to that voice. Pushed through the pressure to find his feet, those same feet began stomping on Regal until he relinquished the hold but before he let go, the propelled Punk towards the ropes. He fell horribly on them, catching the top one across his throat. His head snapped back like a coiled spring released and a fresh agony seethed in the base of his neck and a spray of red mist smoked from his bloodied lips into the moist air along with a gross, wet dollop of... something, and his legs wobbled beneath him and the world revolved frantically around him and he clutched his guts as he fought another wave of nausea and-

Regal's punch sent him clattering back against the canvas. Another knee in his mangled nose. Another forearm scrubbed against it. Punk put up his arm to fend the rabid Englishman off of him, when his wrist was snared, twisted, compelled against his will beneath the power of a brutal knee to lie flat on the mat for another pin. Kick out. Pin. Kick out.

These multiple kick outs were tiring him. They were meant to. Each one taking longer, the ref's count creeping closer and closer to two, two and a half. But kick out he did, he wasn't finished yet, not by a long shot.

He just needed everything around him to shut the fuck up for two fucking seconds! Let him think!

Fingers wrapped around his chin, scraggy nails digging in like a falcon's talons. Punk was woven into another hold, targeting his shoulders again, the breathy heat of Regal's body flat against his, and his brain screamed 'NOPE' and he fought his way out of it and his mind bellowed 'FINISH THIS' and he dipped beneath Regal in an attempt to roll him up and get a sneaky three count.

Regal escaped. Struck Punk across the throat to chastise the upstart.

Then grabbed Punk by his shattered nose!

Two thick fingers jammed themselves into his sopping nostrils up to the first knuckle, deep enough to prod against the split cartilage at the bridge. Punk's bloodied lips opened wide and a terrible wail ripped from his throat. Above him Regal laughed and panted and wheezed. And the crowd were going insane, like a pack of hounds when the fox was being torn to pieces, drunk with blood-lust and the aphrodisiac of his suffering. And the ref was yelling at Regal to let go, let go, one, two-

And Punk was released but the throbbing remained and Punk tried to breath through the blood and spit and pain and exhaustion and the noise and the lights and Regal had him by the hair again. Drove the hard part of his forearm into Punk's ringing temple, once, twice, and Punk was failing, was running out of energy and running out of time.

Another hold, the worst yet, wrenching his neck and shoulders until he was grotesquely contorted. Held for too long, too painful. His whole body squealing, from the fog in his skull to the anguish in his shoulders, from the sharp tenderness of his nose to the burn in his throat. And his guts strained and squeezed and his ears rang and his eyes streamed and he wanted this to be over. For all of this to be over.

That desire spurred him on. He found the strength to fight back. Kicks, chops, punches, blows, knees, he sparred back with everything he had and more. Threw his body over the Englishman for a near-fall. He wiped the mess from his face with his wrist tape, spat out the last of the blood in his throat through his bared teeth.

But just when he found his feet, they were taken out from right under him. The arena flipped, Punk tumbling through the air, landing nastily on his face, and Regal pounced on his lifeless corpse, a black-hearted crow swooping in to peck the juicy jelly out of his eyes, and Punk was suddenly aware that his trunks had risen up on one side and had wedged right into the split of his asscrack and despite the pain, despite the noise and the dizziness and the nausea, all he could think about now was the sensation of his stitched seam pressing through his speedo into the sweaty recesses of his ass and he was done, he was fucking done with all of this shit!

Regal hauled him to his feet. Punk bend down and managed to lift him up onto his shoulders. His knee made short work of the veteran and within seconds he had pinned him for the one, two, three and the victory.

Punk stuck around for the post-match shenanigans - the blaze of Kane's pyro was the last thing he needed at that moment in time - and as soon as the programme moved on, he disappeared into the back. Grabbing up his headphones, he stumbled through every corridor and hallway until he found an empty room and slammed off the light. Sliding his bare back down the cool wall, his long hair pulled back off his face, he placed his headphones on. No music played, he just wanted to drown everything out.

Silence

Darkness.

A cocoon of peace wrapping around him.

The pain remained, the throb and stick and choke and hurt but with everything else at bay, he could re-frame the torture in his body, re-direct it. He sat and he breathed and he mentally re-wired his body, taking as long as he needed to wrestle back control of his frantic senses.

As he started to calm down, he began to think back on the match, how everything had suddenly felt so raw and potent. How it had completely over-whelmed, even the feel of his skin on the canvas.

Tomorrow he had a day off, he'd be heading back home to Chicago.

Perhaps it was time to book an appointment with his doctor. Get tested.

Get a diagnosis.

[acemarkey]

uh the ask game thingy ♿🌻⚕️🏳️‍🌈 for literally everyone in charisma house. go crazy go insane

smile. Under the cut cuz there's so fucking much

iori - bpd . Looks both ways. yeah that's about it. displays every symptom ever. i dont hc him with any specific phys disability but there is definitely one. WAIT I LIED chronic back pain. points at barometric pressure episode

♿️ What is their disability/disabilities? What are the symptoms that they show?

terra - to go along with my jokes about her being an old woman. joint pain. prolly arthritis but she hasn't looked into it cuz she doesn't think she needs to. also npd obviously. prolly some other shit who knows

rikai - legally blind i think. hoh also and she doesnt realize how fucking annoying her whistle is.

saru - fibromyalgia. once again not diagnosed but he knows it's there. his legs go numb often and when they're not numb they just hurt

ohse - forgive me for projecting here Smile. some sort of chronic pain disorder (knees mostly), anemia (frequently faints cuz of it ) . bpd (obv), chronic depression & anxiety . not projecting on this one but i think he has a missing toe cuz he dropped his knife on it and had to get rushed to the er by rikai once. also bad pain in wrists cuz Yk. Artist.

amahiko - ok getting his hypersexuality out of the way. there's that thing with his dick hurting when it rains. man. I dont know.

fumiya - she's diabetic to me & is also an osdd1b system ^_^ the silliest

torahime since u said he counts - also diabetic. Following getting hit by fumiyas motorcycle twice. I think he'd have some sort of chronic pain but idk. ALSO BPD WHICH IS AGAIN OBVIOUS and dpd.

and everyone is autistic.

🌻 Do they do anything that helps manage their disability? (Ie medication, hot and/or cold patches, set sleeping times, ect)

ohse Has depression and anxiety meds but he doesn't take them. torahime and fumiya take insulin. the house always has at least two bottles of different painkillers at all times courtesy of amahikos mother

(doing phys disabilities)

⚕️ How did they find out they were disabled?

iori - he overworked himself so bad and it started raining once and he just. Died.

terra - she still doesnt know

rikai - her parents were both legally blind so he got glasses at a young age and his eyesight deteriorated . with hoh she still doesn't know she just thinks.its like that for everyone

saru - one day in a gang fight he nearly collapsed and the pain never really went away so he hooked himself up wkth crutches. shrug

ohse - he just kinda. knew. he got mocked for walking weirdly so. it wadnt really a revelation

amahiko - his family is entirely doctors. next question

fumiya - i Dont Know. tbh.

torahime - well i would assume he found out when he got hit by the motorcycle ,

iori - never really complains unless prompted and will work through the pain til he drops cuz he's like that !

🏳️‍🌈 A random headcanon about them and their disability

terra - amahiko's mom is the first person she told about anything .

rikai - doesn't realize the whistle is loud cuz she can't hear anything clearly .

saru - SWAG ASS CRUTCHES. USED AS WEAPONS. FUCKJNG DECKED OUT.

ohse - customized wrist brace, signed by all of the charismas and he cried so hard over it. they signed it when he was sleeping snd he woke up to it

amahiko - all of his stuff is hereditary i think

fumiya - sometimes sits there and talks to a headmate but will ONLY do it when terra is around and it creeps her tf out. also everyone can pry his sweets out of his cold dead hands

torahime - i dont have anything for him. but he cried after that call with the fucking idiot of all time cuz he was so embarrassed and nearly split

oh my fucking god.

[augcst]

tell a funny story from ur childhood

Its not really funny bc bullying but it is funny to me now BUT my autistic ass had a friend in 4th grade and she started calling me “Toad” and i was like omg!! A nickname lol friends :) and one day my mom was volunteering and my “friend” aggressively yelled “come here toad” (in a mean way i realize now) down the hall and my mom overheard was like “MIRANDA WHAT DID YOU CALL HER” and miranda nearly fainted LMAO. And thats on lack of social queues baybeeeeee

[disabled-queen-hc-blog]

Can I get some fluff autistic!John, with poly!Queen. Maybe something where John gets scared or someone’s being mean to his so all the boys (Brain, Freddie and Roger) comfort him or something

There was a thunderous bang, a sharp ear piercing whine then a boom as glass shattered.

John was in the living room where it happened, doing some homework. The sudden noise seemingly fried his brain and burst his ears, jumping up in panic and beginning to run. He had no idea where, but he needed to get out of there. That was the only thing on his frazzled mind. 

Roger was in his room reading, nearly throwing his book across the room at the sudden noise.

Freddie was in the bathroom, shaving his face, nicking his skin when he heard that awful noise, cursing and slamming he razor into the sink in a mixture of anger and fear.

Brian was in the kitchen, brewing some tea when it happened, falling flat onto his ass when that crash echoed through his ears.

Roger stuck his head out of his room, eyebrows knitted. “What the bloody hell was that?” he yelled. John ran past him.

Freddie stepped out of the bathroom, a dramatic hand on his chest. “Have we been bombed?” he asked, eyes scanning the hallway for any signs of a bombing. There weren’t any. John ran past him too.

“Is everyone alright?” Brian called from the kitchen floor, sitting up straight. He supposed he’d be the one to get to the bottom of it. Although his bottom at the moment was quite sore from the crash landing he had seconds ago.

The rest of Brian’s body was sore too once John dove into him. There was no more house for John to run in, so he decided to stop by landing on Brian, curling up on him and shivering.

It took Brian a second to recover but he held onto John, the both of them all sprawled out on the kitchen floor and began to soothe him.

“Oh, no, Deaky, darling. Don’t be scared. It was just a..” Brian had no idea what it was but they were all fine, so whatever it was, it couldn’t have been bad.

He grimaced trying to get them into a more agreeable position, John trying to make himself as small as possible the whole time, hands over his ears, eyes scrunched shut. 

“We’ve been robbed!” Freddie cried from the living room. There was a faint ‘Ow!’ followed by Roger saying, “Freddie, no we fucking haven’t. The window’s..shattered on it’s own..?”

Brian could hear the two murmuring, a little too busy with someone to go check out the window himself. He kissed the top of John’s head, holding onto him tight, whispering some reassurances to him.

Freddie and Roger eventually stumbled into the kitchen, frowning at the sight.

“John, baby boy!” Freddie screeched, which wasn’t very helpful, throwing himself onto the floor to cuddle up on him. Roger joined, hugging the trembling lump that was their boyfriend.

“Whatever the hell that was, it scared him shitless,” Brian said quietly, nuzzling his nose into John’s hair. 

“L-Lightning,” John stuttered into Brian’s chest, the mere mention of it making him quiver harder.

“But it isn’t even raining!” Freddie said, looking out the intact window of the kitchen. It was very cloudy, sure, but no rain.

“You don’t need rain for lightening, love,” Roger said, a little exasperated. Freddie was so lucky he was cute. 

John let out a whimper, wanting to abandon the subject. The dots were easy to connect from there. Lightening hit the window, the window exploded (all over John) and he wanted to forget about it. 

Roger rubbed John’s back, able to feel his flying heart beat through his spine. “Let’s take him to bed. Get him settled down,” he said, his lips curving down. They all nodded in silent agreement, getting ready to pick him up when Freddie stopped them.

“He’s got glass in his feet,” he said, now noticing the trickles of red on John’s soles. 

And in his hair, Brian thought. His kisses were received by sharp things his adrenaline filled brain couldn’t process.

They felt even worse for John, having to go through that all alone. He was never too keen on thunderstorms and now they feared he’d never tolerate them again.

Roger, the only be-muscled of the group, carried John to the bathroom, John hiding his face in his neck the whole time, while Brian fetched the first aid kit. Once settled on the toilet seat, Brian and Roger sat on the floor, each working on plucking glass from on of John’s feet. Freddie stood next to John, hugging him, rubbing his shoulders and picking glass out of his hair and clothes. 

The bathroom was the one place with windows, so John couldn’t see the far off flashes of light or hear the rumble of thunder. And although getting glass shards pulled out of your foot wasn’t fun, he found himself able to relax. A little.

“You’re quite brave, Deacy. Think if I were you, I would’ve pissed myself,” Roger said with a little laugh, using a cotton ball to rub alcohol into the tiny wounds. John hissed, toes curling. 

“Shh, shh. You’re doing fantastic, baby. Once we’ve got you cleaned up, we’ll all got to bed. That sound nice? Spend the rest of the day under the sheets,” Freddie said, pressing kisses onto John’s forehead and cheeks.

“With Beary,” Brian added as he wrapped gauze around John’s foot. 

That did sound nice.

“What about the window?” John asked, wondering how they’d function with a hole in their house.

“That’s the landlords problem,” Roger replied, finishing up with John’s foot, a grin on his face. 

It was just Brian, John and Beary in bed at first. Roger was sweeping up the glass while Freddie called the landlord. 

John was all pressed into Brian, a squished Beary in between them, his shaking finally stopping, the color returning to his face. Brian pecked John’s lips, whispering, “How are you feeling?”

“Ears still hurt,” 

“Mm, I bet. I was all the way in the kitchen and my ears are ringing,”

John frowned, intertwining his bandaged feet with Brian’s.

Roger joined them eventually, arms wrapping around John’s waist, his face pressing into John’s shoulder. “Look at our brave man. Survived an explosion without so much as a scratch,” he said, a bit tired from all the panic.

“My feet,” John said.

“Oh...Well, you’re still so brave! You didn’t try to run or nothing,”

“I did,”

“..I’m going to take a nap now,”

The three giggled, all of them starting to get lulled into a nap by the shared warmth. Any such option to actually sleep was thrown out the window when Freddie joined, draping himself over them, retelling the phonecall he just had.

“And then he said he didn’t believe me! Said that we were covering for one of us breaking the window! And I told him nu-uh! Lightening hit it! My sweet John wouldn’t lie! Plus we all heard it! And then he said-”

This past hour was a hellish one. One second John’s doing homework and the next he’s sprinting down the hallways, heart beating out of his chest. His ears were throbbing, the bottoms of his feet stinging and all he wanted was somewhere safe to go. 

John couldn’t think of a single place safer than in the arms of his boyfriends. 

Despite Freddie’s rambling and the shaking of the bed from the other two’s laughing, John found himself drifting off, a little smile on his face

[smallgayblanket]

OOh - tell me some of your headcannons for the egos?

Ohhh man oh man oh man- which one do i even start with..

I have a load of different HCS that fit certain different spins of how the egos are depending on one what kinda universe they are apart of..

For example, I have one about JJ- Where he was actually made mute by Shawn, except Shawn while his body was puppeted by the ink demon creature that resides within him. (Ive even RP’d a thing with a friend where Shawn’s ink counterpart forced ink into JJ and JJ ended up having his own alter ink persona called Cole.) 

JJ is a bartender- and hes suuuper good at knowing exactly what someone will enjoy as a drink, call it a superpower, he hardly ever goes wrong when asked what he suggests they’d like.   

(Also he has a pocket watch which contains the soul of an old man called Horace who likes to try and provide old man advice to the lad.) 

And although hes a timey fellow, I actually HC’d his ablity would to be to control liquids, his veins in his wrists glow when he does it, its very fancy (and extremely pretty when he can make creatures out of water dance on the surface of the lake)  However over use leads to him suffering an experience of drowning which can be rather dangerous and awfully scary. 

JJ also has a huge fear of knives.

Also I picture him having silver tipped hair, which is just a touch long and flops in his eyes occasionally.

JJ Also suffers malnutrition because of his sore vocal cords/throat. It can be  struggle to get him to eat!. (Did i mention I cannon him as selectively /half mute because he can still talk but its raspy and hurts to do so ? ^^’ ) 

--

Jackie

Jackie!! my ladd. Hes a great guy, buff, charming, super big sweetheart too. 

He runs a couple of jobs, depending on where hes at which include: a comic book shop, a gym, or just sneakily hiding in plain sight as a gas station convenience store clerk. 

I HC that his eyes are actually a blue tinted lilac, and glow gold.

He has a red patch in his hair!

Hes v v fast, and buff.

I also had this whole thing about him being able to create glowing golden orbs and if he makes enough of them he can basically make a clone out of orbs, and they copy what he does!

However, I’ve also always adored Phionex! Jackie, who lost his wings and desperately wants to grow them back but despite being reborn from ash they seem to still refuse to resprout. 

Because of  his inhuman nature, he runs really fucking warm! so hes like a human heater.

He gives real good advice, and the bestest fuckin hugs. 

Also for some reason whenever I write him speaking he has a bit of southern in him?

--

Robbie

Robbie. Is the softest of lads, he drowns in his sweaters, and as a few autistic traits. Not a fan of big loud noises and crowds and loves soft things to nuzzle up against. Also big oral fixation, boi needs some chew toys.  Hes a good lad, eager to help out and be around the other egos, but also quite the quiet type and happy to sit around at home in his piles of blankets.

--

Chase

I totally HC that Chase suffers from Chronic fatigue, which is part of why his depression got so bad and that he tries his best to make use of his energy. Poor guy can get real tuckered out when he pushes himself too hard.

He's always kept the lime green mess on the top of his head, though sometimes it gets more yellow then he means for it to get. 

He has a tattoo dedicated to his kids hidden under his sleeve on his upper arm/shoulder. It's of some cool triangles. One in red for his son, one in purple for his daughter.

He does really well trying to maintain his bro average channel.

--

Anti

I kinda have a couple views on Anti, since I love cold asshole murder, and also the possibility of ships with a slightly more misunderstood but softer guy.

Hes got static blue eyes, that you’ll only see if hes being vulnerable or super tired that he cant maintain the scary green glow. 

I have a HC that hes actually a missing part of Jacks soul, hence why he feels so unstable, incomplete and sad. Hes missing all the good bits that Sean has, and is left with a cold fragment of what he could really be.

However he has, and does murder. Though he attempts to murder those who have actually done wrong. 

Very sassy and snappy. Takes alot to get to get to who he actually is.

On the other hand he can just be a fucking ruthless torturer and crazy sadistic asshole who has it out for nearly everyone! 

--

Angus!

Survival hunter. Weird accent mix of Australian and Irish. Uses 'mate' 'oi' 'bag a few of them' 

Has a trusty machette. And an epic bow which he's p good at using. Large knowledge of trees and animals and survival.

Wears alot of camo/brown stuff. Loads of pockets. Pocket knife/multitool Hair usually slicked back or messy.

Finger less gloves! Oceany more greeny pale eyes. Totally has some cool studs in his ears- maybe a little wolf fang in the side or something.  Beard more like is soft and fuller and well maintained.

 Freckles??? sunspots?? yes. Also toned n tanned Def has scars. On his neck, over his cheek and right eye. Plenty on his hands from burns and stings. Has some nasty ones on his ankle on his right foot from accidentally encountering a rouge set up bear trap- nearly lost his foot. Because of that theres sometimes a faint limp that's only kinda there when hes sick/tired.

Obviously wears boots.

Eats alot of trail mix.Loves his meat tho.

Also partakes in Woodcarving !!

Sometimes rather foolishly ignores when hes hurt.

Lost his right leg from the knee down to an awful incident with a hippo Has a prosthetic leg. 

Also lost from his elbow down his forearm n hand to a Wedingo.

if he were to have a Home it would basically be a sanctuary. Like a huge property out of the way and secluded.. Nice and private. 

HE HAS A St. Bernard. Big puppo-  Called Baloo.

He grows some cool ass rare flowers, some homegrown vegtables n berries. Maybe even a cashew tree/apple tree. Plenty of shade but also fresh air. 

He has solar panels too so hes basically not needing anyone asides the trip to the shop for like basics he cant acquire like soaps n milk n stuff.

--

Blank  

My fucking. Boi. 

Fricking soft boy, his aura is hard to control and sometimes controls him.

He has a rare heart issue which makes him prone to fainting and collapsing without much warning.  Still, he tries.

He mumbles an awful lot, and has boughts where his aura ges really bad and he numbs out..(Usually in the corner of his room, everything dark, and loads of errie whispers..) 

His aura can manifest into dead vines. He can also absorb other auras so they cant affect him/others!

Sometimes stray petals end up in his hair.

He’s truly trying to be a good lad, hes just a bit odd and misguided. He worries he’ll turn into a monster.

He fucking loves the moves Finding Nemo, and Finding Dory, because he can be very forgetful too.

Honestly, fav boi, should write more for him i just l ove him alot okay. 

--

KOTS

Personally, I HC that the KOTS is actually called Simon. Occasionally i like to picture him with both ears and tail, but generally hes just a guy in glasses in a red sweater who is generally a little skittish and usually quite frazzled.  However he actually isnt all that dumb, and has quite an extensive knowledge on the forests flora and fauna. 

I did have a really mean HC that hes actually allergic to PB, but only in the sense that it upsets his tum, so like a lactose intolerant person, he eats it and regrets that later.

Also, he has a really nice hanging egg nest thing thats really cushioned and he loves to curl up and sleep there with a nice book.

He’s got really pretty amber eyes too!!

--

Edward!!

He fucking loves space!! and Secretly also is not that bad at painting. It's a soothing thing to do in his downtime. 

His favourite treat is anything with white chocolate and raspberry. 

Also, I quite adore my HC that he loses an arm- Either because of upsetting the heads of the household (Dark/Wilford) or because of a house fire. 

(Also this isnt the place to mention it but I did once get excited about the idea of a Google/Edward fusion called Edware.) 

--

Yandere  

Nonbinary somewhat MTF.  

They’re a real cutie. but they will punch dickheads without sweat and really just want someone to be their senpai and let them fall for them head over heels without running away..

They have an epic pink katana. Obviously a huge love for japan and its culture and stuff. 

Quite obsessive, but it usually only endangers them for falling so hard that they hurt themselves trying to please their Senpai and beat themselves up over not being worthy or good enough for them when they dont get affection back or end up rejected. 

Also yeah theyre into blood a little bit >.> 

I kinda love the idea of shipping them with Bim and helping him get a supply of ‘meat’ in return Bim gives plenty of affections to satisfy Yans starved nature.

[bloojayoolie]

Anime, Apparently, and Ass: File: furies ipg (405 KB, 1296x968) 631157670 631165562 >»631166037 Anonymous 07/29/15(Wed)08:18:07 No.631156939 Alright boys, sit down for a tale of the most Autistic kid I have ever had the displeasure of running into Wolfman Greg >Re me >Be 16, around 2000 a popular kid either Kinda did my cwn thing really >Shared World History with this kid >His name was Greg il from arace and into autism >Greg at this point was quiet, and reserved, never did anything to get bullied >Especially after Columbine >Fnday b g to change soon >That Monday >Apparently Greg's parents had bought him a computer, and an Intenet connection sHe hvigusly hadn't showered at all since friday >He didn't really pay attention during class and was mostly drawing in his notebook >His smell was palpable Grea collected his things and headed for the door >Not before he bumped into a guy named Mike kewas hot pleased with Greg's odor >Greg stood silent for a moment >And then he did it Mike iust ushed Grea out of the way and made his way into the hallway and walked to his next class >The rest of the kids gave Greq a strange room for the rest of the day 631160061 631160215 631165562 >631165642 631165921 Anonymous 07/29/15(Wed)08:26:44 No.631158773 File: 1437110427545.ipg (418 KB. 1955x2048) day Appars sinstead he bought a gray hoodie, and some cloth >And sewed some years to the hood >At least he showered this time Greg didn't do his homework the night before >The teac her was this really nice vegan lady from Oregon >She was a little pushy with homework but that was it really ork to be passed up front >She askd theirs >"Greg? Where's your homework? >Silence 3She anproached his desk >The room was stranoely tense, before this Grea was a good student >She was standing at Greg's desk 3She reached out for a niece of paper she assumed was his homework >And then he snapped at her >Not like screaming or yelling, but he he bite her >The teacher gasped >Grea just got up and Naruto ran out of the room hing before and we were really taken aback by him trying to bite the teacher, but the way he ran >No one saw Greg for the rest >Apparently he got on a table, curled up into a ball and tried to nap Indian man in charge didn't care enough to bother him of the day until one of the Stoner kids reported seeing Greq in after school detention Anonymous 07/29/15(Wed)08:35:48 No.631160463 File: 1432672843827 ipg (1.79 MB, 5000x5000) 631160790 >631161301631165562 >Wednesday >Greg apparently wanted to make it up to the teacher euse er rold broke down vcle SOneele >She had what was left of a bug on her cheek that she missed She walked into class ten minutes after class started >She apologized for her being late >Greg walked up to her >Hood up >Shitty cloth ears flopping >She looked at him puzzled ant to tell me Greg? She was probably hoping for an apoloqy >Greg grabbed her face paper in his hand He nad lold And licked her cheek >And the bug quts too Grea then tueked the nanor into her breast pocket and sat back down >The teacher, as a testament to her character, pretended that never happened >The class went on as normal verge of tears the entire time while we were talking about the Boxer Rebellion When the bell rang again, Greg bolted full Naruto style out of the room >His hoodie came loose and fell off hair >Revealing a really shitty attempt at anime >After school as I was walking home I saw our US History teacher talking to the school cop >With her equally vegan and upset boyfriend there too We didn't see Grea for two weeks after that Anonymous 07/29/15(Wed)08:47:48 No.631162869 File: Scared ipg (67 KB, 656x584) 631163694631164020 631164078631164239631165562 Thursday, two weeks after the incident >Grea was back >If you think he was bad after a weekend of early 2000s Internet, Greg has been SCARED He clearly hadn't showered, at all He looked like he slept, ate and shat in the gray eared hoodie He reoked very poorly made tail to the back d >By this time we we The teacher decided to hold class outdoors for once to demonstrate some things >As soon as we got outside, everyone put themselves up wind of Greg Evnthing was coing fine we were discussing the Battle of Somme in the gentle Arizona winter Greg, what are you doing? >All eyes shot to Greg to see what horror we were about to witness with one hand in th He didn't andwor >Everyone turned back to our teacher PAnd then the digging got more ferocious e grounds keepers worked really hard to grow that grass!" >No answer, he kept digging Greg!" tensified Grestop ar Still nothing Mike stood up and started walking towards Greg to stop him had a foot deep hole about square foot wide >Fvervone stonned >Their faces when >Greg tumed around SAnd started to poo >Oh God the stench Evione flinned and oot as far away from him as possible >Greg managed to fill the entire hole up >He then lifted his pants And then buried it >The 9/10 goth girl fainted Greg got sent to the office And was sent home for the day 631164732 631164845631164983 631165088 631165130631165135631165162631165268631165307 Anonymous 07/29/15(Wed)08:56.32 No.631164486 631185639 22631166136 File: XaviOda jpg (19 KB, 320x240) Friday >Greg was tolerable that day, nothing happened The following Monday to class >Like realy late >The poor teacher marked him absent >Half way through the treaty of Versailles quess who showed up >And the horrar >We didn't see it at first, or for the next ten minutes we heard it Acnch >And not the normal granola kind >Like the wet, gross kind iting into a bone would make >The girl in front of Grea turneod around >She flipped her shit Greg what the fuckl" SA half eaten bird >He was late bec ause of this l aleo wotod to throw because he managed to catch a bird, kill it, and partially eat it The teacher approached him and attempted >Greg wasn't having it rescue the poor avian creature from this kid >A had o landed a bite on her >Mike had enough of this shit >Before he could react though Greg through his meal at him >The distraction worked o over a desk >He failed and landed face first on the tile >Luckily he had enough time to get up, spit out some blood and Naruto run out of the room eneheied te wcks of school bec ause of an infection though 31166912631166935631166956 631167039 22631167068 631167080 6311 Anonymous 07/29/15(Wed)09:06:19 No.631166557 ile: 1437626420912.ipg (298 KB, 1024x768) >About a week into our poor teacher's absence >The substitute put us in the computer lab to research some shit: Thanks to her fatness and her odor, she was immune to Greq's smell barrier >Qur schedule was fucked that day >They were having a assembly for 8th graders that would be attending next vear >So we only had our first class that >For eight hours We broke for lunch, nothing weird happened with Greg, yet. Swhen we got back though, shit started happening >Evervone had the post lunch sleepies >Half the class was napping at their terminals was helping the 9/10 aoth gid work on her Horror novel >Wasn't too bad except for some grammar errors >And we were flirting >The substitute fell asleep at some point, leaving Greg free to do as he pleased >And he was really pleasing himself T happened to glance up and catch it >Grea was jacking it pretty hard >He must have just started because no one seems to have noticed yet ou stanng a- OH MY GOD >The aoth gid This in tum drew attention to Greg Who happened to start climaxing >The next five seconds was beautiful the Grea nanicked mid cu >Instead of tuning off the computer a pushed the monitor off the desk p getting cum every the tard wranglers e ended >He was transferred out of regular classes >But this was not the end of Wolfman Greg d)09:19.31 No.,631168892 250x213) 29. File: 14315458 10401 gif (1.5 MB We went a month without Greg shenanigans l even managed to sleep with the goth girl a couple of times outside of class >He didn't speak much, but we nicknamed him "8 Ball 8 Ball didn't take Greg's shit, except for letting him growl or whine once in a while the end of Junior year we thought we had heard the last of Wolfman Greg >None >l unch time l was sitting with the Goth Girl, Marian and her gaggle of dark brooding sisters tables were >We were talking about Poe when it happened >The doors to the tard building burst open was Greg I watch him sprint out, howling >8 Ball no where to be seen en Grea wondered around for a hit before singling out prev This noor shy gid named Marissa >He snuck up behind her >Oh God dher to the table >And pretended to mount her >He had his dick out and was rubbing it on the back Wing like a woll te cattered f her sweater This had to be the final straw >This went on for what felt like forever 8 Ball finaly ehowed un after getting Arby's >Greg was expelled after this and labeled a sex offender >Marissa dropped out >That was the end of Wolfman Grea for high school I have ONE more, this happened six months ago Anonymous 07/29/15(Wed)09.31:26 No.631171137 File: LTXeu.ipg (127 KB, 800x853) Greg was allowed to join our class. Not join me in hitting that sweet pale ass in the back, and n the hood of my old CRX. I can drop that green text if omvone's interoster Six months ago seeing Greg He had left my mind entirelv >Driving through my old town to visit my folks >Then I see it >is that? >No fucking way >Holy shit its Tucking Greg Lom in furkino aw that he's got a sweet scooter and I'm on a second had liter bike >Nearly rear end a taxi >He pulls up next to me sna lcan fucking smell him through my helmet l nearly puke >Manage to distance myself from him and get to my parents place >Decide to meet up with some old friends for a nde >Step outside fucking Vespa in the neiahbor's drive wav >No >lgnore it and go cruise w hours later sVesna still th >Please no >Greg lives next door to my folks now Facebook Grea's folks died and he inherted a large chunk of change >Bought the house next to my parents > Is a complete neet. 1/2 A File: 1427957849766 ong (97 K s 07/29/15(Wed)09:38:56 No.631172339M 460x470) 631171137 anything but browse the Internet probably and do Wolfman things >Try to not let this crush my soul and crawl into my old bunk bed to sleep for the night >As l'm drifting off to the though of making the Goth Girl of yesteryear swallow my cum and calling it st'e furking howling >God dammit Greg >My boner is ruined It's loud too ing howling keeps me up until 3am L finaly fell asleep Wake up the next moming 60 through the day with my folks a shell of my formor self >lt happens aqgain >The terror is replaced with rage no window This is it "Greal It's 11 o'clock at night! I have to >Slam window home tomorrow and I need sleep! SHUT THE FUCK UP" SFall asleep and leave the next moming >A few months later mom calls me The cops entered Greg's home due to a smell complaint >Crea was deod >I inadvertently got him to kill himself ut the bou tom don It's now an empty lot >But I, and hundreds of others still remember Wolfman Greg God speed, vou magnificent. early furry trash bastard. Wolf man Greg

[lethe-distillery-blog]

Tall, Dark, and Fictional

I stepped through the door and took a long deep breath, appreciating the smell of old paper, glue, a miasma hanging thick in the air. The second hand bookstore on the corner of Fifth and Main didn't have a proper name so far as anyone I knew was aware but if you mentioned either 'The Book Store' or the owner Bartholomew, everyone who did any sort of reading in the surrounding area knew exactly who or where you were talking about. It wasn't a big shop, though that was difficult to discern, six hundred square feet or so I think though the floor to ceiling bookshelves or random stacks of books at the end like hastily thrown together end caps created a winding labyrinth that shrunk the already small space into something that felt almost like a giant hug from old friends.

 I smiled as much as I could at Bartholomew, he refused to answer to Bart, who sat behind the counter; he wasn't an old man, despite his name, in fact he didn't look much over thirty with eyes that were a deep royal shade of blue and auburn hair and a comfortable personality. I saw where he had his own book neatly set on top of a tiny table that served as a checkout, though it too was piled with books. He waved me over. "I have something for you." Being a regular had special perks with Bartholomew, he tended to follow what you bought and then be helpful and warn you if you accidentally bought a second copy, or if he got something in that he thought you might like. Where he stored all of that information, I had no idea. Especially since that was all on top of his store and the knowledge he needed for that as well as any personal life he may have. My mood must have shown as I walked over because I saw the slightest frown on his features. It wasn't that his lips had turned down but there were a couple faint wrinkles between the eyebrows from them drawing together ever so subtly. In all the years I had known him, I hadn’t known him to express emotion much, my guess was that he was slightly autistic. "That asshole bugging you again?"

 I flinched reflexively as memories came floating back. "Yeah." It came out weaker than I wanted, I hated that I let people affect me so much. It wasn't like I wasn't used to bullies, in fact, I had been teased all the way throughout middle and high school, thank God I had finally grown into my buck teeth and they weren't quite so pronounced anymore and though I could do with putting on some weight I wasn't nearly so lanky, and I wore contacts now instead of glasses. Yeah. I was still haunted by the demons of my past, and it seemed, the present too. I had no idea how people could be so willingly cruel. A warmth covered my hand breaking through the memories and dark thoughts and I looked up to see Bartholomew's hand covering mine. Even through his white reading gloves I could feel his body heat. It was nice, the moment of contact, a reminder that I wasn't alone. He pulled back and I smiled my appreciation and he nodded. "So what did you have for me?" I asked, forcing a subject change off of me, he took the hint. I glanced over the assortment and took in some details as I looked over the scattered assortment of mysteries, romances, even a couple World War II biographies lay strewn about.

 Going to a nearby pile Bartholomew brought over three books. One was the next in the series I was reading, I had purchased the previous two last week and I was already done them, they were incredibly addictive. One was a book I had asked him to reserve for me, The Historian by Elizabeth Kristova, a remarkable Dracula rewrite that I had read quite a few years ago and had wanted a copy, and the last was a book I hadn't seen before. Interview with a Vampire by Anne Rice. I flipped it over to read the blurb. It sounded interesting enough. "Thank you Bartholomew, I'll take all three when I'm done looking around." I smiled again, feeling in a much better mood and he nodded and set them aside for later. Aside from Bartholomew, I was the only one in the store, not really surprising given that it was Friday at two in the afternoon, though I knew it picked up later when everyone was done work. I had actually left college early to make sure I was alone. I hadn't intended to spend anything today but I had just wanted to the warm comfort that books provided to me, and here it was especially prevalent.

 I wandered the narrow allies slowly, taking my time in the claustrophobic spaces finding new friends stacked amongst the old and even a few that I might have to take home with me at some later date. The Resurrectionist: The Lost Work of Dr. Spencer Black was one such book, it looked to be a fascinating study of cryptids though the anatomical drawings in the back of the book were what really piqued my curiosity. Still, I set it back regretfully. I had no money to spare until the end of the month, rent was due and I didn't have nearly as much to start pulling things off the shelves because I knew once I started I wouldn't stop. Didn’t know how I was going to afford the three at the counter either but I would try.

 I frowned to myself, stopping suddenly and squinting. Yes, that was in fact a book tucked up on top of the others. It was small, tiny really. Nothing much more than what people used for a pocket day timer. It was wrapped in what felt like leather, old, worn, but well cared for obviously. It was unadorned, not even a title or author, just a canvas of leather. It felt old, the pages looked thicker than average, vellum maybe? Whatever it was, it looked old. Though it seemed odd that it was packed here, tucked in amongst the paperbacks in young adult mystery. I flipped through the book, the words seemed blurry almost, indistinct, had the book been damaged? I couldn’t tell for sure, it looked, fuzzy almost, yet the rest of the world around it looked clear and crisp, thanks to my contacts, or else I would have thought I had forgotten to put them in. Something that happened so frequently it could almost be called habit at this point. Confused a bit I stopped flipping through and turned to the front page by some strange compulsion.

 There was writing there, a crisp written script that was both beautiful and masculine, it looked, messy wasn’t the right word but it was the only one coming to mind. As if the writer were using a fountain pen, that slight smudging of the letters as the ink spread and dried. Still though, whomever wrote it had a beautiful hand, it was an elegant cursive that spoke, through with nothing more than swirls on a page, of power, elegance, and refinement. I started reading.

 “It’s been a long time.” I could practically here his words, rich and cultured and a deep cadence that made me think of my favorite treat, chocolate covered caramel, why did I think it was a him? Still, I couldn’t stop myself. “I suppose that introductions are in order.” I could swear I heard him sigh with resignation. “My name, if you want to call it that, is Nefelibata Lacuna, though I won’t be offended if you cannot pronounce a mouthful like that.”

 Stopping, I tried, just the faintest of whispers. “Nefel la bata, La coo na.” I felt silly, but Bartholomew was the only one in the store and I was far enough away that I doubted he heard me, or even if he did, I doubted he would care.

 “Close,” I read on, frowning, “Closer than most in fact, glad you are smart as well as beautiful. Good. Neh fell lee bah ta. You pronounced the other correct.” The voice was patient, smooth as it spoke but I frowned, stopping my reading. This, was a bit too creepy, a bit too, close for comfort. Flipping through the book again it still seemed blurry. Indistinct, blurry, letters jumbled together, but the moment I focused, everything became clear. “I think I concerned you.” The voice inside my head seemed to be thoughtful, a bit concerned even as I kept reading. “Was it too much? I thought that an introduction would be the best course of action after all.” My curiosity kept me reading, a morbid curiosity that wanted to know where this was going. “What is your name my lady?” I looked at the next line and it was blank. In fact. The whole page was blank now. I flipped through the book. The entire thing was blank, plain white pages, even the front page. I went back to my spot, but I couldn’t find it. Everything was a plain, off-white sheet, without page numbers even. I frowned in confusion.

 The front door bell tinkled and I slammed the book shut, breathing hard. I was, nervous. Of what? All I had been doing was reading a book. A strange one granted, but still. It was just a book. I glanced down at the leather bound tome, my hand was shaking, I reached out and set it back on the Hardy Boys, went to Bartholomew, quickly bought the three others and left so I could catch the bus back home.

 Nefelibata Lacuna.

 I shook my head trying to focus, I had The Historian out, soaking in a bath after a long day at work. I knew the story, not perfectly, but I knew the jist. I just couldn’t focus. I had a specific voice that hadn’t left me alone for three days, a memory that haunted through my thoughts at the most inopportune times. The rich, caramel chocolaty smoothness of his voice made all others sound pathetic by comparison. And, as pathetic as it sounded, being called beautiful, even by nothing more than words on a page and my idealistic imaginings of a man inside my head did things to me. I wanted to be beautiful. Thank god the braces were off. I wanted to be normal, not the tall, gawky, nerdy girl that was good at numbers and had no ass and nearly nothing for breasts.

 I sighed, trying to focus on my book. I was set for relaxing. Candles flickered around my small bathroom basking everything, and me, in a warm golden glow. The scent of lavender filled my head, the bubbles a soft blanket while the water provided the warmth. I had a glass of Apothic Crush red wine, and a small plate of cheese and chocolates. I was set. And yet, despite everything, despite my every possible comfort tended to. I had yet to read more than the first paragraph. Just a quote, not even the book yet.

 “How these papers have been placed in sequence will be made manifest in the reading of them. All needless matters have been eliminated, so that a history almost at variance with the possibilities of later-day belief may stand as simple fact. There is no statement of past things wherein memory may err, for all the records chosen are exactly contemporary, given from the stand-points and within the range of knowledge of those who made them.

-Bram Stoker, Dracula, 1897.”

 I finally set the book aside, finally giving up after the fourth attempt of reading and retaining the words in order to flip the page and start where everything started. I leaned back, closing my eyes and focusing on the warmth and comfort that the bath provided. Rick the Dick had been a nightmare today, constantly belittling me and almost made me cry, again.His cruelty had no bounds and it was getting to the point I was tempted on looking for another job, even though I loved working in the bank, and the other ladies were fantastic, it was getting difficult to convince myself to keep going back and dealing with Rick every day. I sighed and forced myself to relax. Long, slow breaths, just like yoga had taught me. Meditation. I had thought of it as a bunch of mumbo jumbo, but it really had helped, a lot. There was only one issue the last few days. “You are smart as well as beautiful.” The voice soothed through my senses, overwhelming me so much I could never stop it. It rushed through me with a giddy exhilaration and a warmth that spread from my chest all the way to my toes.

 “Who are you?” I couldn’t stop the plaintive whimper, not even knowing I had spoken aloud.

 “Nefelibata Lacuna.”

 I sighed. I knew his name, still didn’t know why I thought it was a him, but any time I set my imagination to say the words with a feminine voice it came up blank. Nothing. I had no voice for a feminine version. So here I was, stuck with a voice in my head that sounded like sin and satisfaction. The very essence of masculine pleasure. I couldn’t take much more of this. I was going crazy.

 I was going crazy. Here I stood. In the bookstore, on the corner of Fifth and Main, with a proprietor by the name of Bartholomew. And here, in the comfortable confines of his establishment I found a corner, it was the only real place there was enough room, I sat and in my hands I held a small book. It was about the size of a time keeper with old leather casing that was worn in places but well cared for and faded nearly to black. My hands were shaking as I lifted the cover, and read. “It’s been a long time.” I kept going forwards, my breathing coming out in harsh pants. “Did I frighten you?” It, he, remembered me. My breathing hitched. “I’m sorry I cannot be more personal.” I took a long shaky breath, feeling all sorts of on edge, nervous, and perhaps a little crazy, I spoke.

 “My name, is Monica.” I swallowed, feeling all kinds the fool. “Monica Brewman.”

 “Monica.” One word. One simple word as though he were sampling my name on his tongue like fine wine. One word, rolled about and I felt everything in me melt, all the tension, unease, all the stress of another long day at work, the bath last night hadn’t really helped much at all. One word, and I didn’t feel alone anymore. “Take me home Monica.”

[pigeonnebula]

rant-ish

just got home from college’s last day of orientation. Is tired as hell. Chillin for a bit when suddenly grandma called me that my aunt is suddenly sick and her body turned cold. I was to rush straight to her apartment which is one MRT stop away but since it’s an emergency I had to take taxi and so I did. I must go quickly there because my grandma said she is alone and her twentysomething-year-old son didn’t pick up the phone. I rushed towards the apartment and I need a card key to go up the lift and into the apartment unit. The security guard was being slightly uncooperative and said there’s no one in the apartment, the lights are all off and even from the windows it’s all dark. He took me to the public lift. The back door of the apartment is locked. No one answered the bell.

I was sweating and panicking and all the while my grandma and my aunt are calling me like every ten seconds and they’re panicking too. My aunt didn’t answer any calls, and her son didn’t answer them either. We all thought she had fainted inside.

Since the back door can’t be opened I had to call the maintenance and ask for a universal key to the private lift. The security guard did some weird stuff with the lift and it let me go up without a card key. The front door is unlocked. I rushed inside, panicky, it’s all dark so I frantically switched all the lights on. I checked all the bedrooms. It’s empty. Then my other aunt, the eldest one, came in to look for her supposedly sick sister as well. We both looked everywhere but the apartment is indeed empty.

Grandma and uncle kept calling and upon knowing the apartment was empty they got even more panicky.

And then after another few minutes of panicking... the lift opened. Out came my aunt in proper attire and make-up and a cheery face and her freaking son is beside her. And no explanation whatsoever, she just went straight to cheerfully chatting with her panicking sister about some random stuff, I didn’t even care at that point, I had dissociated.

Everything’s okay. She’s healthy. She had gone to the clinic herself. I mean, with her son who didn’t pick up the phone.

I just... turned around, went back to the lift. Went back down. Took the MRT and walked all the way back to my apartment because I’m not spending another 8 dollars on the taxi. And now I’m spent and sweating and extremely tired.

...

I feel kinda angry even though I know I shouldn’t. To be completely honest, I dislike this aunt of mine in particular as well as her son. I find them to be too loud, too talktive, too forceful. But when I heard she suddenly got sick I was still extremely concerned because a few years back I lost one of my aunts (I have four aunts), the youngest one, and my mom and grandma are super distraught because my mom was the closest with her. Even to this day my mom still grieves for her sometimes. And I feared that the worst would happen, that my mom would lose another sister and my grandma would lose another daughter.

And then it turned out to be a freaking false alarm that could be avoided by simply picking up the phone and explaining. Their phones are functional when they got home. My grandma and uncle were so damn worried and they’re nearly screaming when they called me. I was damn worried, too.

Like... I just don’t know how to feel about this. Sure, it’s GREAT that she’s healthy and nothing happened, but... my aunt acted like nothing had happened. It’s not like her older sister had rushed to her apartment and skipped dinner out of worry, it’s not like my grandma and her own freaking husband are frantic and panicking and holding their breaths as I run my ass off through the streets and begged the security guard to let me in. She just sauntered in like nothing happened with her son and went on to chat with her sister, who looked just as annoyed as I am.

I was so in disbelief I left her apartment not long after, to go back to mine.

.....................

I really don’t know how to feel about this side of my family. My grandma has four daughters and one son. Her husband had passed away. The son is young and single. All four sisters are married, and one had passed away, leaving a single dad and two children. They’ve moved to America after her death. My mom is the third sister.

I’m not a big fan of my first and second aunts or their family, but I really liked my cousins from the first aunt. One of them was an incredibly genius boy who skipped a bunch of grades due to his sheer intelligence and now he’s in some prestigious university in America, and he’s one of the youngest people there. He’s still around twenty and already has a double degree. He’s also a lot of fun to talk with.

My second aunt has one son, and he’s autistic. I don’t like him. Here’s the thing-- my first aunt’s two sons are also autistic. I like them. 

My second aunt’s son is incredibly unpredictable. The only person he won’t hit is my mom and his mom. I usually steer clear of him, so I’m not sure if I’m on the “Will Not Fight” list. He constantly goes on temper tantrums and would scream and hit the maidservant or my grandma.

My grandma doesn’t want to live in Singapore with him. My grandma is not supposed to live in Singapore with him. Why is she in Singapore with him?

Because my second aunt, his mother, works in Jakarta but so just happens to own an apartment unit in Singapore (the level of richness and wealth kinda increases the older you are among my aunts...) so she just plops her son there. He went to college, uni, whatever, and one day he tantrum’d in school. The school officials called home and they did not approve having only the maidservant at home. They threatened that a family member must be at home and available for school to call, or they’ll expel him.

My grandma, would very much prefer the easy Jakartan life where a car takes you anywhere, you don’t need to walk, and my mom often treats her to big feasts in restaurants and order all her favourite food. She’s old, she has stitches and metal supports in her legs, she uses a cane, and can’t handle long walking journeys. In Singapore, you have to walk everywhere.

Also she gets abused often by my cousin with his unpredictable outbreaks and naturally she doesn’t like that. And my second aunt... didn’t do anything about it.

Like, I know. He’s not neurotypical, he most likely can’t control what he did when he’s on a rampage, but it’s just /really/ hard for me to like him. He’s my cousin, after all. We should get along. But mostly I just avoid him. I still remember that one time he visited my house back in Jakarta and casually shoved my small dog off the bed. And the constant reports of abuse from my grandma didn’t help either.

tl;dr I don’t really like my extended family...

Man this got really long.