#my extreme insomnia has had me fucked up since i was so young that my body just doesn't know how to sleep peoperly

[vivid-vices]

you can't get jet lag if you never sleep

[gravyhoney]

Cw// gun/weapon

Let me into your brain about the silly legos (hc’s) - ✧

IM SO GLAD YOU ASKED ABOUT MY HCS‼️‼️

Idk which Legos you were referring to so I will make a HC post for Ninjago characters since it’s what I’m currently hyperfixating on.

Buckle in for an extremely long post because I am insane. Cutting it to keep it organized for u guys 🫶

So one thing about me is that I love incorporating other people’s headcanons into my own. And sometimes that leads to some contradicting headcanons, so in my little brain I have like, multiple different sets of headcanons for a bunch of different characters while also having My Headcanons, those being the ones I believe in the most/came up with without outside influence. I will be listing My Headcanons, but I type that entire preface to explain why some of my posts might be contradictory of the headcanons I list here 🫶

It’s gonna go like this in no particular order. (The order of how excited I am to share my hcs for them)

Character name- gender/pronouns, sexuality

List of headcanons

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General-

Their eye color aligns with their element, they all have their natural eye colors, but after realizing/unlocking their elemental powers, they began to change.

Adding onto the above hc, Kai and Nya's eyes are still pretty dull due to them being like, the last two to realize their powers, while Jay's are extremely bright and vibrant.

Jay- she/they (occasionally he) transfem + gender-fluid, bisexual

Hard of hearing, wears hearing aids. I think the hearing loss has always been there, but I think her elemental power just worsened it, bc you know. Thunder loud.

That being said, I think she was the first to get her elemental powers. I think they got them when she was like, a really really young kid.

Has heterochromia.

Came out as trans like, mid-prime empire.

Has psychosis and suffers from delusions.

Not rlly a Jay hc, but related. Their mom gave them up because she was desperately hoping they wouldn't have an elemental power, but if she did, they'd be near unfindable because she lived through hell and didn't want Jay to have to go through the same.

AuDHD

Nya- she/they transfem nonbinary, bisexual demiromantic

Has a tremor after un-merging with the ocean.

Her and Kai both have pretty bad anger issues.

SHE CAN BREATHE UNDERWAAAATTTEEERRRRR I believe she can ok?

For a long time after Hands Of Time she hates the way she looks because of how much she looks like her mom.

Still holds a heavy resentment against their parents, because even though it wasn't their choice to leave, them and Kai still had to grow up alone.

Fucking hates the taste of cinnamon.

Has time blindness, but only after un-merging with the ocean. She became disoriented and confused about the passage of time after being the ocean for so long.

Sometimes they still feel pulled back to the water.

Best friends with Cole (I believe this one wholeheartedly)

ADHD

Lloyd- he/they nonbinary, aroace

Has insomnia, and a sleepwalking problem when he can get to sleep.

Looked fairly human when he was young, but as he got older, his Oni and Dragon features started showing more.

The feelings he felt for Harumi was mostly confusion because she was the first girl he got close to that didn't have what felt like an 'older sister' role in his life.

Really likes bugs.

Has auditory processing disorder.

Their body doesn't regulate temperature regularly.

Religiously watches iceberg videos.

Likes wearing more loose fitting, baggy clothing.

High-empathy autistic.

Kai- he/him transman, bisexual

He and Nya both have pretty bad anger issues.

He likes occasionally dressing femininely, but usually decides against it because he’s afraid people won’t take him seriously.

HIS ASS IS NOT THE DESIGNATED DRIVER

Has burn scars that go pretty far up his arms due to his own elemental power.

Extremely high body heat, has to wear gloves to avoid burning people at the touch.

Has a pretty bad memory due to constant concussions (his ass got beat to shit CONSTANTLY)

Was stealth trans for a while, because he wanted people to take him seriously, but stopped caring after a while and is extremely open about his identity.

Has a deep paranoia that he’s going to hurt the people he cares about, and is constantly over correcting at ever little mistake.

ADHD

Cole- he/they, gay ace grey-aro

After the events of DOTD he has to use a mobility aid for a while while he gets accustomed to having a body again.

Body-image issues.

He feels like he’s supposed to be in charge of keeping everyone safe.

Best friends with Nya and Vania (I believe in this one SO hard.)

He loves cooking, and is very defensive about it. NOBODY is allowed in the kitchen while he's cooking (except Nya she's his taste tester).

Has constant night terrors and has a very detailed sleep routine to avoid them.

Super good with kids.

Girls girl (gender neutral).

OCD + ADHD.

Zane- they/them agender, panromantic ace

Will sometimes pick up little crafts or projects, jack of all trades type vibe.

Is actually SUPER up to date with every single internet trend or meme.

Can't taste (bc they're a nindroid...) but fr thought for years that all food just had no taste until the robot reveal and they're like 'ohh'

Has constantly wildly shifting morals.

Genuinely the scariest of the group, sometimes freaking out everyone else. This makes them sad. They present themselves in such a way to make them approachable.

Has a tendency to blame themself when everything goes wrong.

Refuses to talk about their feelings to anyone else, bottling it up.

Autistic.

Pixal- any pronouns agender, unlabeled ace

Runs every single online forum about the ninja, none of them know.

Always has to feel useful, or she gets stressed out easily.

Listens to podcasts when he works.

Wildly defensive.

Felt a little unworthy of the Samurai X title when nobody knew it was them.

Low-empathy autistic.

Skylor- she/they, lesbian

True neutral (generally looks out for herself, doesn't really do things for the greater good, but for her own sake)

Doesn't remember her mom at all, she passed away when she was extremely young.

After the events of S4 she completely uprooted her life, changed literally everything about herself to disconnect herself from her father. Renamed the noodle shop, and completely rewrote the menu.

Makes most of her own clothes.

Picked up painting, is insanely good at it.

Slightly self destructive, constantly trying to distance themself from the ninja, but Kai always drags her back.

Realized her elemental power at a very young age, mostly because of her father.

BPD + CPTSD.

Vania- she/fae/it/he transwoman, lesbian aromantic

Very talkative.

Writes to Cole a lot (she has both a phone and his phone number it just likes writing to him).

Plays a lot of instruments, faer favorites being the harp and the violin.

Extremely anxious that she's not going to be a good queen, constantly overcorrecting.

Really indecisive and always changing his mind.

AuDHD

Harumi- she/he bigender, pansexual

Probably bites people.

Because of how sheltered she was with the royal family, she doesn't know a lot of basic life skills, and had to teach herself near everything she knows.

He did learn how to sew, and mends his own clothes.

Has albinism.

Always blaming her problems on other people, that being a product of the extreme pressure he was under when princess.

ADHD + CPTSD.

Sora- she/they/various neos transfem, lesbian

Always has to be busy, or she will start spiraling.

Wildly protective of Arin.

Was constantly getting into fights in the early days of living in the crossroads, very quickly learned they'd have to constantly fight to survive.

Talks about xer childhood like 'haha yeah it be how it be :)' and everyone listening is completely horrified.

Views everyone she meets as a threat until they prove they aren't.

Really likes reading, her favorite genre being sci-fi.

Does some creative writing, but has never shown anyone her writing.

Love language is quality time.

Since realizing their elemental power, she's had a tremor in her hands. She hates it.

Low-empathy autistic + OCD.

Arin- he/they transmasc, unlabeled aroace

Needs people to be in the kitchen when he bakes, he's very social.

Wildly protective of Sora

Has night terrors, has never talked about it.

Actually really good at fighting dirty if needed. Bro kicks ASS.

Picks at his fingernails.

Has read Sora's writing, (she doesn't know) he finds some comfort in it.

Love language is physical touch.

Is always completely down to prank people, a devious little guy.

Nearsighted, but doesn't ever mention it because he doesn't know.

Craves validation from anywhere he can get it.

Low-empathy autistic + ADHD

Wyldfyre- he/she/they nonbinary, queer greyaro

Anger issues for days.

Really physically strong.

Love language is physical touch.

Has burn scars on their hands and thinks they make them look badass.

Talks loudly because he has hearing loss.

Doesn't know how to interact with people, seeing as she was raised by a dragon.

Low pain tolerance, but knows how to hide it.

It never came up until she started living with people, but he's deathly afraid of seeming weak or incapable.

ADHD

Euphrasia- she/her transwoman, unlabeled ace

Introverted as hell.

Can hold her own in a fight for a surprisingly long time (I know this is not canon compliant, let me be delusional)

Had really long hair, but had a manic episode and cut it all off.

Likes drawing.

Despite her job, she's not too keen on reading.

Autistic

[bendingwind]

I was thinking about this instead of sleeping last night (yay lifelong insomnia), and I still don't think I'm going to put this story on AO3, but I think tumblr can have this little story about Rangiku as long as y'all suffer through me talking about it first. I don't know if anyone will want to actually read it, but if I'm gonna keep talking about it I ought to make it available to read somewhere 😅

So because it's important, we'll start with the rating and the warnings above the cut, so anybody can avoid this if they want/need to. Please heed the warnings, I am not fucking around with them. Dead Dove Do Not Eat etc.

Rating: Hard Mature Warnings: Underage (at least physically) pregnancy, unplanned pregnancy, extremely unwanted pregnancy, lack of access to healthcare, child abandonment, a brief mention at the beginning of child/infant death, some tokophobia, one mention of potential child harm Pairings: Gin/Rangiku, though Gin isn't really in this story much, and it is primarily a story about Rangiku

This story has been sitting in my brain since I was in my late teens or so, and it's one of my most vivid memories from my first round with the Bleach fandom *mumble mumble* years ago. I had one fic in particular, ✨creatively named✨ Secrets of the Seireitei, which I found in my google drive of saved old Microsoft word docs. It was a series of drabbles I wrote about different characters in the Seireitei, and one idea in particular was repeated across three different stories; this idea I'd had as a teenager that Toushiro was Gin and Rangiku's kid that they'd had to abandon in the Seireitei because of Circumstances.

So I guess it's not surprising that the first thing I chose to write when I decided to start writing Bleach fanfiction again was the core of this particular story. It doesn't fit with canon, doesn't really even make sense with what we know (and I'm not sure it did then) and it's very sad and very dark. Gin and Rangiku are physically probably 14-16 when this story takes place, though because of how time works in the Soul Society they're older by years than that.

Rangiku is one of my favorite Bleach characters. I also fully believe her not only capable of this but likely to do it, especially in her younger years, but your mileage may vary and that's okay!

I think if this story had been possible and if it were real, Rangiku wouldn't have made the connection with Toushiro when he arrived at the Seireitei and assumes her kid is out there somewhere just doing his thing. Gin realizes immediately upon meeting Toushiro (Toushiro's reitsu signature is very distinct and similar to Rangiku's in my mind?) and it's one of the rare occasions he loses his composure because he previously had no idea he even had a kid. Toushiro figures it out much, much later (like, post-canon) after Momo says something that makes him start thinking, but never says a word to anyone about it. ANYWAY. The story:

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

chances & choices

Births are rare in Rukongai. Babies not so much--all sorts of things can go wrong in childbirth and early life in the world of the living, after all--but births? Those are rare. It takes the kind of spiritual energy you usually only see in the clans to conceive at all.

Rangiku is six years old when she dies, and she has spent the majority of her life in the world of the dead, eking a meager living off the streets of the Rukongai. Even once she met Gin, even once they became Gin-and-Ran, too young and too old all at once, times had been lean until Gin had gone and gotten himself made a Shinigami a decade past.

All this to say, Rangiku could hardly be blamed for taking so long to realize what was going on.

****

It starts with more hunger than usual, a ravenous appetite like she’s never experienced before, more than even the money Gin brings on his rare visits can support. She takes up more odd jobs than usual, waitressing in a cafe in the nicer part of District 3, where she lives now, and she manages to make ends meet.

Then there are the dizzy spells that make her spill a tray or five, and lose her the job at the cafe. She’s put on weight, eating so much food, and she thinks she will just have to remember how to be hungry and count on the extra weight to see her through until Gin’s next visit.

She grows weary and listless, loses more than one other job when she’s caught napping when she’s supposed to be working. Still she doesn’t understand what’s happening to her. She thinks that, most likely, she’s finally dying.

Nobody ever explained to a Rukongai brat how babies are made, or what a pregnancy looked like in the world of the dead. No one ever saw the need.

****

If Rangiku ever saw a pregnant woman in life, the memory has faded, and she feels only mild annoyance as she gains weight, as her belly expands and her breasts grow even larger, because really they were a bit much to begin with. She has been eating an awful lot, after all.

Gin visits.

He is just as confused as her.

The day after her visit, the old woman she lives with stops her as she begins to leave for her new job at a fruit stand.

“I thought for sure you would tell him,” Obāsan says.

“Tell him what?” Rangiku asks curiously.

“About the baby,” Obāsan says, with what seems like great patience. “I understand you haven’t wanted to say anything to me before, but I won’t kick you out.”

Confused, Rangiku looks over to where the little girl Obāsan adopted is sleeping. She’s been here even longer than Rangiku had the money to pay for bed and board. She’s not sure why it would change anything, and regardless, she would hardly call Obāsan’s ward a baby.

Obāsan reaches out and places a hand on Rangiku’s arm.

“When you’re ready to talk, Rangiku, I’m ready to listen,” Obāsan says with a pat, and then she turns away.

Rangiku is puzzled all the way to work, and then she’s too busy hustling up customers and counting change to worry about it. The fruit stand is more popular than ever these days--the old man who runs it calls her his lucky charm.

****

“You really ought to at least see a midwife,” Obāsan says at last, and Rangiku looks at her, puzzled by the unfamiliar word.

“What’s a midwife?” she asks.

This time, Obāsan’s gaze is flat and assessing.

“Rangiku… I haven’t wanted to pry, but I am beginning to wonder now… do you even know you’re pregnant?”

The meaning of that word doesn’t register either, not immediately. It’s strange and unfamiliar, alienated from the vocabulary of the Rukongai.

“I’m what,” she says when at least she remembers what it means.

“My goodness,” Obāsan says, clucking gently, but her eyes are a little wide, “what did you think was happening, dear?”

Rangiku’s stomach sloshes nervously, and she feels dizzy.

“I think,” Obāsan says with a deep frown, “that we had better have a discussion, Rangiku.”

****

A baby.

The thought had never even occurred to Rangiku before. Rukongai brats didn’t have babies, they ignored babies lying on the side of the road. The kinder natured ones might offer a simple prayer that someone from one of the better districts was looking for a baby and might stumble across the poor soul.

Obāsan summons a midwife, who inspects the size of Rangiku’s belly and shakes her head.

“I don’t know, really,” she says at last, “I’d say she’s six months or so along, but I don’t really know how these things go over here. I didn’t think people had babies after they died.”

“The nobles do,” Obāsan clucks.

“I thought they just sort of picked the most powerful baby they could find in the districts,” the midwife says, shrugging. “Well, the more you know, I suppose. Do you think that she’ll give birth the same way a living woman would, or is it different?”

“How should I know?” Obāsan asks, a little scandalized.

Not for the first time, Rangiku is afraid.

****

She understands that the little fish in her stomach is the baby, now, moving, and that someday it’ll be born.

It feels like a death sentence.

Babies are a burden, out in the border districts. They eat and they bring nothing in. Obāsan says she’ll be able to feed the baby milk instead of food for a while, but even so--

Gin’s visits are irregular at best. When she comes home from work, exhausted and sore, and senses him at Obāsan’s house, she turns and walks away.

She’s only marginally surprised when he doesn’t follow. Her reiatsu feels different, strange, these days.

****

How will she support a baby, anyway?

They need a lot of attention, according to Obāsan, and Rangiku needs to work to bring in money, especially if she’s going to keep avoiding Gin. Gin is… Gin is Gin. She’s not sure how he would react to a baby.

She’s not sure he wouldn’t simply kill it rather than let it be a burden on her.

She hasn’t been able to work lately. She’s too tired, too dizzy, too big, and anyway it’s the middle of winter. The fruit stand only has a handful of early yuzu for sale.

“I think it will be soon,” the midwife says with a puzzled frown, on one of her visits.

Obāsan clucks.

“Do you think we could find out more about it if we approached one of the noble clans? Surely they know…”

“They’d kick us to the curb,” the midwife says, shaking her head.

****

Rangiku is no closer to a solution when her reiatsu and her belly begin seizing with the contractions Obāsan had warned her would come. She still has no idea what she will do when she pushes a crying baby out of her own young body, sobbing, and the midwife sets him on her ample chest.

****

Obāsan was right. The baby needs a lot. He wakes her constantly at night demanding to be fed, drinks the milk that her breasts have begun to produce, and Obāsan clucks and wonders if it’s normal for spirit babies to feel hunger or not. Obāsan herself has never experienced hunger since her death.

Rangiku doesn’t think it matters much whether it’s normal or not, only that he is hungry. She curls up around him on her futon, strokes his soft head and hums a song to him, one she learned before she died. She doesn’t remember where.

“You look tired, dearest,” Obāsan says one day, frowning at the shadows under Rangiku’s eyes. “I wish your young man would at least come around to help you.”

Rangiku lied, months ago, and said she wrote him a letter. She’s never said anything at all.

****

The baby doesn’t sleep, either. He cries at all hours of the night and wakes Obasan’s ward, who often cries as well, for all that she looks as if she’d been four or five in the world of the living. Rangiku is tired to her bones from the sound of children crying. It makes her want to tear her ears off her head.

Obāsan catches sight of her one of these nights, while she’s trying to soothe the baby back to sleep and Obāsan is comforting the little girl.

“Rangiku, perhaps you ought to go visit a friend for a few days. Get a few nights rest,” she says. Rangiku looks sharply down at where the baby is feeding from her breast.

“I’ll buy some goat's milk down at the market. It’ll be fine for a day or two,” Obāsan says. Rangiku shouldn’t, she thinks, but she does. The girls she stayed with when she was working at a sake bar in District 8 are only too happy to have her visit for a few days.

She sleeps through everything but meals on her visit, instead of going out drinking as they had planned, and her friend Kiku only laughs and waves her hand.

“I still can’t believe you have a baby, Rangiku-chan,” she flutters.

Rangiku wants to know if Kiku would like to trade.

****

She’s never done so much laundry in her life. As beautiful as her baby is, all he seems to be able to do is shit and pee and eat and cry. Gin visits, and Rangiku waylays him outside the house.

“What’s with all those little things?” he asks curiously, eyeing the drying lines.

“Obāsan’s adopted a baby. Let’s go find somewhere quiet,” she lies, and Gin grins wider and agrees.

****

“You really need to name him, dearest,” Obāsan says, one morning  in the third month of the baby’s life.

“Hm,” Rangiku says noncommittally. She has never loved anything as much as this tiny soul with his shock of white hair, like his father. She has never been so afraid of anything as this tiny soul with his pretty, wide-open eyes. She has never hated anything quite so much as the thin sound of his wail.

Obāsan sighs, and begins to bustle around the stove.

“Obāsan, I’ve been thinking,” Rangiku says. “Gin will be visiting soon. I’m going to go to the Seireitei with him, and become a Shinigami.”

Obāsan pauses in her movements.

“And your son?” she asks.

“I’ll keep sending you money,” Rangiku says vaguely. She can’t bring herself to ask, not outright, not like this. A chubby hand grabs at the short strands of her golden hair. “Just as soon as I’m through the Academy.”

“Gin won’t send money any more, and he’s a seated officer. Your pay will be less,” Obāsan says cooly.

“I’ll make him,” Rangiku says, “I’ll say I owe back-rent. I’m strong, we both know I am. I’ll be seated soon enough, myself. I’ll… I’ll be a Lieutenant!”

Obāsan scoffs in a way that shows she’s entirely unconvinced.

“Please,” Rangiku says, feeling tears well in her eyes. She grips one of her baby’s chubby hands in her own. “I don’t know how to be a mother. I can’t do this.”

“You’ll have to learn,” Obāsan says, sounding angry now. And then, softer, “I’ll help you, Rangiku-chan, don’t be afraid.”

****

But in the morning, Rangiku is gone.

[swimfuel]

okay humanstuck thoughts under the cut

i owe a lot of this to @/rhythmic-idealist's kankri/vantasposting bc holy shit theyve got such a big brain (ill link to their individual posts when im on desktop since im using this to keep all my thoughts straight and i agree with most of what they say wholeheartedly)

general status quo stuff:

signless works in an extremely demanding career involving helping others (i'm leaning towards an attorney who works with organizations and does pro bono work), and is also extensively involved in social justice work outside of his job... he is very rarely home

he loves and cares for his children deeply and tries to express it whenever they're face to face, but the couch in his cramped and messy office has seen far too much use over the years for him to have been able to say it enough

his habits of working himself to the point of exhaustion are handily passed down to his kids btw

the kids had to grow up quickly because signless was out of the house so often and so consistently—kankri, who was already pretty high-strung, has to learn to take care of himself and karkat

they grow up near ms firuzeh maryam, who's their pseudoaunt/grandma (she took in a nine year old kavana vantas when she was about twenty), but they just call her ms rosa

they spent a lot of time in the maryam house growing up, with miss rosa's two nieces. porrim is a year older than kankri, while kanaya and karkat are the same age

kankri grows kinda sensitive to people trying to mother him since it rubs against the notion that he's the "adult of the house" and that he can take care of himself and karkat just fine

(and it also kinda underlines the fact that kankri has no idea what he's doing at the best of times)

and ironically enough, kankri becomes overbearing and naggy towards karkat in his own right, which forestalls them becoming close in any brotherly sort of way

they grow up really just... unable to communicate with one another clearly

karkat develops his ornery exterior in response to kankri's constant stream of opinions and frantic attempts at making up for the presence of a guardian in the house

i think there would actually be some really interesting parallels with rose in this au.. maybe i'm drawing from my own experiences as well but i think he'd begin to assume that every time his brother opens his mouth, he's going to criticize karkat

but instead of reacting like rose with the "making yourself more of a puzzle"/passive aggressive stuff, he gets a more defensive/hackles raised/"argue with you before you can argue with me" approach

and the thing is that they do love each other and would take a bullet for the other etc etc etc.. but they don't know how to express it because they've fallen into these shitty patterns

and it really doesn't help that kankri has grown somewhat resentful of signless over the years... that mix of resentment and fear and love gets more extreme and more polar every time signless gets injured during a political demonstration

i think kankri and signless would also be slightly closer than karkat and signless, as signless' job really only started to ramp up when karkat was less than years old and kankri was in his early double digits

kankri autistic btw its word of god (i am god)

karkat has a pet crab. its name is also karkat. he vents his frustrations to it.

i feel like the vantases exemplify both the best and worst parts of their aspects with one another as well... the strength of their bonds keeps them together and grounded, but TOO grounded. [insert Blood rant here]

the Blood rant:

i define Blood as bonds, responsibility, and the "core". if Life is the fertile soil and everything living on a planet's surface, then Blood is the gravitational core of the planet keeping everything together

i also think Blood, Heart, & Mind work in tandem to define a person just as blood serves to connect the pieces of the human body... Heart is the soul and the self, Mind is the application of one's self through active choices (agency), while Blood defines both the self and the choices one makes in greater detail [and, as an aside, Life provides the physical spark of life needed to keep the heart pumping blood]

OKAY wow that got tangential anyways

SO BASICALLY! too much Blood makes you stagnate, so for example:

kankri is split between staying home with karkat or going to college across the country and being truly unbound for the first time in years

another crisis of Blood: signless is caught between his empathy and responsibility to the whole world and his responsibility to his own children

okay so here's more status quo stuff:

the maryam and vantas kids grow up together and its hilarious because you'll see them all together and its just like (girlboss) (girlboss) (physical manlet) (emotional manlet)

the maryam girls are actually miss rosa's nieces but she took them in when they were both pretty young

the pyropes know the vantases well enough considering pyrope senior and sign have known one another from their respective legal practices for years, but they live on the other side of town

the leijons lived in town when kankri and meulin were very young, but they moved and travelled for a long time before coming back and reestablishing their roots

the captors (psii being one of sign's oldest and closest friends) move into town with the peixes family pretty early on though

the condesce is.. a horrible spouse and guardian, to put it plainly. she's very emotionally manipulative and isn't averse to smacking people around, including her own family. she moves herself and her perfect little family into town so she can properly oversee a new business venture close by

feferi is one of the best young swimmers in the country and has a pretty good shot of getting onto the olympic team.. a lot of this drive to be perfect and to be better results from the condesce's unrelenting pressure and thinly veiled resentment throughout her whole life

so yeah psii, )(ic, feferi, and sollux all live together and it's really not great for anyone involved. (meenah ran away years ago, and crashed on aranea's couch for a pretty long while—mituna moved out with latula for college before psii and the condesce got married)

it gets bad to the point of sollux staying with the maryams for two months while the adults try to sort out that absolute clusterfuck and get the divorce proceedings going (meenah finally convinces feferi to get out and come stay with her and aranea for the duration as well)

in terms of relationships i think latula and porrim were really really close in high school, and probably had some kind of unacknowledged thing going on for a while that never actually turned into anything because latula and mituna were going steady

kankri has had a crush on latula for years but never acted on it for similar reasons

meenah still carries a lot of that give no fucks attitude (it's developed moreso as a defense mechanism here) and can't understand why feferi refuses to leave the condesce with her

okay back to VANTAS MANPAIN i also think that karkat feels the weight of a lot of expectations on his shoulders as well

he feels responsible to live up to the example his dad and his brother set, even if it's to his own detriment—and kankri's oblivious rambling about his grades and his teachers and all his clubs certainly aren't helping the matter

kankri is one of those overinvolved kids taking a million AP's while simultaneously shitting on the collegeboard at every single step

hes this super overachiever anal retentive perfectionist type dude and (just as karkat preemptively criticizes others to forestall their criticisms of him only to harshly criticize himself) kankri subconsciously holds the people around him to the same expectations he holds for himself

so karkat also develops this sense of lacking which, in combination with everything else, culminates in self loathing and thinking he has to solve everyone else's problems and getting horribly mad at himself for every little mistake

GOD i have a lot more but lemme post this before i accidentally close out of the app and lose it all

more little details:

vriska's mom and terezi's mom HATE each other like HATE HATE HATE one another it's so bad

karkat wrote a ten page review of my immortal in middle school

jade is one of nepeta's best online friends

sollux can't raise one eyebrow at a time.. karkat gives him so much grief about it

the vantases eat a lot of shitty renditions of persian dishes until karkat learns to cook because literally the only person in the world with a CHANCE of getting KANKRI VANTAS to make an EDIBLE DISH is miss rosa

kanaya is really good at persian dance too but is VERY VERY embarassed to perform in front of people.. however porrim definitely is not

karkat has insomnia while kankri just stays up stupidly late for assignments that really shouldnt be taken that seriously.. but they both have the same rumination/sleep anxiety thing where your brain goes insane with horrible and depressing scenarios as you try to sleep

and more ideas that i thought were interesting but idk how to fit in the context of this au:

signless and disciple getting married pretty late in life after having been in love for years, the vantases move in with the leijons and karkat suddenly has two sisters

nepeta and karkat are both juniors at this point, meulin is probably in her third year at a local college nearby while kankri is about to start his second year at a university pretty far away

the kids in general honestly but ill figure it out

more random hcs this time with kids:

kanaya and rose get into a flame war online that gradually settles into elaborate courtship rituals

also nepeta + jade online besties

also bec can inexplicably still teleport

the first sbahj movie comes out and the next six months of dave strider junior's high school career are absolute hell

actually hc that dave senior goes by d strider professionally. the d stands for a lot of things

aradia and dave frequent a lot of the same forums but never end up really interacting

meanwhile karkat and john frequent a lot of the same forums and DEFINITELY end up interacting. this turns into grudging (at least on karkat's part) friendship after they find themselves fighting for their lives defending an objectively shitty movie together on the same thread

[jupiteriala]

Yoon Seungho and Yeonsangun

A hot scary tyrant with anger issues and rampages of violence, a sex addict, a traumatized boy tormented by the shadow of his father… Who am I referring to? King Yeonsangun or our Yoon Seungho? Because both stories match really well.

So on this post I’ll share why I believe Seungho is inspired in Yeonsangun, the 10th king of the Joseon dynasty and the cruelest ever known.

Here I will leave a link with a nice and underrated video I found that summarizes the info on Yeonsangun: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IEUJPNfMMQo&t=295s and will leave some movie recommendations as well.

I will start by summing up the canon facts of Yeonsangun and Yoon Seungho that are very similar, then proceed to do assumptions and theories n.n

TW: This will contain mentions of death, sex, rape and psychological abuse so be careful 

>Yeonsangun felt like he lived under the shadow of his father the king Seongjong, he was often criticized by the ministers and compared to him and even aimed some hate towards him as he allowed the death of his mother lady Yoon, same happens with Seungho that says to “be living by the principles of his father” in a very sarcastic way and sends lusty paintings to bother him and having nightmares when father Yoon comes to his mind. Both being the eldest son to inherit all the responsibilities. 

>King Yeonsangun was a sex adict, he made a whole brigade of ministers to recruit 10.000 virgins for him who would live in the Sungkyunkwan (basically the Joseon Confucianism university of the capital Hanyang later known as Seul ofc) to serve him making this a brothel. Our dear Yoon Seungho attended and hosted orgies on a daily basis right? Pretty similar. Both known for their crazy libido and not caring about public spaces huh. 

>This king was known for his episodes of anger since he was a child and when he became the king (19) killed his tutor the Seungho version of this would be how cold blooded he killed a servant on chapter one. 

>Yeonsangun might have been a tyrant but he was also a hottie, described to be a bit feminine having a nice built and a color skin pale as pricey jade just like our protagonist. Here a ss of Yeonsangun being portrayed on the treacherous (2015) pretty hot right? 

>Sadly, before getting to know how his mother was killed Yeonsangun was known to be a nice man, a good king caring and organized, brilliant in poetry and smart but turned out the monster the history books describe know because of his traumatic past. This mirrors our potn quote “He was actually one of the brightest young men in this region…” oh my lord Yoon they did you so wrong 

>This king is known for the bloodiest purges on Korean history killing a lot of the Sarim faction (basically the scholar side of the politicians and nobility) and Seungho’s family is related to a purge… hmm… This was caused when he found out why and how his mother (Deposed queen Yoon, yeah the surnames are important to be told!) was cruelly killed with poison which ended up in the literati purges. 

Those are the canon facts so far! I’ll continue with assumptions now stay with me <3

+This has to be the most fun one and is heavily based on the annals of Joseon and a very well-known film “The king and the clown” (2005) So Yeonsangun had a royal consort that was Jang Nok-su who was his favorite and treated him as a baby 

and another known favorite one was his royal juggler whose real name I don’t known but is portrayed as Gong-gil in the movie so the consort was very jealous of the clown who was a lowborn ofc Nok-su is known for being poisonous and villain like while Gong-gil was allegedly a pure and cute soul very feminine like (Are we all getting the Jihwa and Nakyum vibes?) Lemme point out some scenes on the movie that are tremendously similar to our favorite manhwa: So the consort grew jealous of the clown as he got more and more favored by the king, he was the chosen to spend the nights playing puppets to the king and the first thing she noticed was how Yeonsangun looked at Gong-gil, there was even a scene where the consort gets in top on him trying to get him stripped

  bc he had received a gift from the king (to Royal robe was on his shoulders)

 And guess what the king made? Drag her outside (not by the topknot but extremely similar way) as she yells HOW DARE YOU!! While her little thingy from the hair falls. the level of parallelism, astronomical.

 He even has a very worried prime minister who plays his cards in secret to please the king, very Kim like. He even looks like this panel as he was killing someone.

 We also get a “Because the way you looked at him is not the way you look at me” shot as Gong gil looks at his partner tenderly 

Some extra ones: Yeonsangun had Gong-gil on the palace against his will and allegedly kept him as entertainment but ended up kissing him lol. And Gong-gil used to be a prostitute before (just like Nakyum thought of himslef:c)

+Basically in both of the films I’ve mentioned so far he is portrayed as mentally ill, insomnia, hallucinations, dissociation, etc. And as a child (being treated as one by his consort and having childish behavior, etc.). Which are things I assume SH has too (well he is canonically ill with insomnia though)

+In the treacherous (2015) Yeonsangun likes to paint erotic paintings (which idk if was real but he was smart and skilled in arts such as poetry as I've read so this a nice headcannon about Yeonsangun that could have inspired Byeonduck nim). Plus, the sex scenes are so vivid and explicit... Like Potn

Well thanks for bearing with me now here I go with the last info and some theories (?)

-So what caused this king to be so unstable and such a tyrant was when he found out about the cruel destiny of mother Yoon) Could Seungho’s past be related to something like this? His mother being mistreated and having an indecent death? Or his lover perhaps? Anyways a purge is also mentioned in the manhwa so if you connect some points please tell me!

-His father, Seogjong was praised sure but also banned a member of the Lee clan (The royal clan, yes Lee was their surname just like Jihwa’s also written as Yi) for living and having a daughter with his slave, this makes me remember Mummyeong and Jihwa’s relationship (The girl was Yi Guji) and strengthened the rules towards widoweds not remarrying. Might me just my extra Sagittarius imaginations loving taking everything to the extreme but this somehow resembles how father Yoon fucked up Seungho and Jihwa calling them “ill”

-Finally their names sound really similar, just me? Yeonsangun Yoon Seungho and I mean look at the pic on the video cover and this korean interview on Lezhin... They are twins!

The main reason I do this is to have open discussion, go ahead roast and debunk my theory or praise it!! Reactions, feedback and opinions are welcome. If you want the theory in Spanish text me or text me whenever you want let's discuss let's chat. I am mostly active on twitter @Seunghosgirl

[harrowscore]

Mikasa Ackermann, Levi Ackermann, Amane Misa, Aeron Greyjoy for the charactet ask :3

SOMEONE HEARD MY PRAYERS AND NOW MY TIME HAS COME, tysm!!!!! <3

okay, let's start with levi (my beloved):

general opinion: fall in a hole and die | don’t like them | eh | they’re fine I guess | like them! | love them | actual love of my life (THEE little feral anime man after my heart)

hotness level: get away from me | meh | neutral | theoretically hot but not my type | pretty hot | gorgeous! | 10/10 would bang (Dark, Tall and Snarky + piercing grey-blue eyes and chronic insomnia? clearly my type ❤)

hogwarts house: gryffindor (maybe....?) | slytherin | ravenclaw | hufflepuff

ugh, the hp sorting house system is way too reductive. he has qualities of gryffindor, slytherin, and hufflepuff - brave, astute, loyal to a fault, etc. so it's a hard choice. but if i really have to choose, i'd go for gryffindor. i know that his Bad Boy facade shouts slytherin, but while he has larger goals (killing all the titans, then saving the world etc.), he's got no actual ambition for himself. hufflepuff would also be a good option.

daemon (from the his dark materials series): (because i've just decided that's just way more accurate than the hp method) some kind of big feline. maybe a panther - a black panther would be the ideal - aloof, predatory, dangerous, fiercely independent.

best quality: besides his obvious strenghts as a leader and warrior, the way he cares for his comrades-in-arms. it's very hard to gain his trust and respect, but once you have it, it's forever. he's pragmatic and ruthless, yes, but he also has a huge capacity for compassion and friendship. not that he would be effusive about his affections, of course.

worst quality: none, he's absolutely perfect ❤ jklsdfhjk jokes aside, he really struggles to open up (a serious understatement), idt he ever talked about his traumatic past with anyone. i mean, maybe he mentioned it to hange and erwin (erwin knew him when he was still an undergound thug, so...), but... he's not great with feelings. despite his apathetic, intimidating mask, he feels and cares deeply, but he has a long history with losing the people he loves, so he tries to not personally care about his squadmates, which can be both a strenght and a weakness. of course, he spectacularly fails at this.

ship them with: well, it's not a secret that i'm a huge rivamika fan, this ship is almost literally consuming my waking thoughts lmao. imo they're perfectly compatible: very similar personalities (stoic, the strongest warriors, absolutely terrifying on the battlefield but with a soft underbelly), very similar pasts/experiences, so many parallels that it's actually ridiculous, etc. i love how they're both each other's equals and likeness (yes, i took it from jane eyre. no, i don't regret anything lmao). a lot of tropes i love, too: Terrible First Impression (the Pride and Prejudice vibes are so strong with these two, you have no idea), Kindred Spirits/Mirror Images, Veteran/Young Prodigy, The Last of Their Kind, even Height Difference lmao. i could write a whole rivamika manifesto, but this is already too long. (maybe for some other time 👀) i would've loved for their dynamic to be more explored in canon but alas, isayama clearly didn't give a shit about the ackerman legacy, he just used it as a plot shortcut to give them conveniently unique powers, since they never really talked about it 🙄 (and before some troll comes into my askbox shouting "you iNcEsT fReAk!!!!1!!", they're only very distantly related. we know shit about the ackermans but we know for sure that they've got at least several generations between them. biologically their shared DNA is 0%, obviously they don't see each other as family, all the eldians have a dead ass common ancestor from 2000 years ago so they're all basically ⁓related anyway. if you really wanna scream about i.ncest, go watch got/dark/the borgias and shut the fuck up please. or alternatively go outside and touch some grass) sorry for the rant, uh. anyway, i can also see levi/erwin. idk if i'd ever care enough to read a fic about them (i'm usually a huge multishipper, but for some weird reason not when it comes to rivamika? same with braime and kastle tbh), but still, i can see it.

brotp them with: hange and erwin, obv. veteran trio >>> ema trio, sorry not sorry (at least h. and e. died before yams had the chance to ruin their character arcs)

needs to stay away from: ...uh, filth, i guess? lmao

misc. thoughts: besides the stupid teenage fangirl crush i have on him, i'm genuinely fascinated by the man himself. he's a huge mess of a contradictions, and yet somehow it works: he's violent and brash and kind of an asshole, but also has a strong moral code and integrity; he's obv very skilled at all the killing/torturing stuff and yet he has a huge respect for life; he's got a potty mouth to say the least, and yet some very aristocratic manners/tastes (the way he sits, his preference for tea and usually refined clothes); he comes from what's supposed to be an illustrous bloodline, he's methodical and very precise, and yet he was born and raised in the underground, he's been used to filth and blood and poverty since he was a child, kenny of all people was his father figure, and probably has known no other life than a perennial survival mode existence. he's "humanity's strongest soldier", but while well-built he's also small, the david to the titans' goliah, and probably not what people would assume a born warrior looks like. he's also one of the few characters who stayed true to himself and his original characterization until the end, bless you smol king ❤

(okay, this is getting long!)

mikasa:

general opinion: fall in a hole and die | don’t like them | eh | they’re fine I guess | like them! | love them (so much. she deserved better ❤️) | actual love of my life 

hotness level: get away from me | meh | neutral | theoretically hot but not my type | pretty hot | gorgeous! (stunning lady ❤) | 10/10 would bang

hogwarts house: gryffindor | slytherin | ravenclaw | hufflepuff

this is actually easy: mikasa belongs to hufflepuff and no, i won't take criticism (just joking lol). enough with this "hufflepuffs are fluffy puppies/Cinnamon Rolls <3" thing: mikasa values loyalty and duty more than anything else. she's also hardworking... and fierce, strong, lethal. yes, hufflepuff and lethal are not mutually exclusive concepts.

daemon: (finally the better option) a she-wolf, fiercely protective of her pack.

best quality: loyal, brave, incredibly strong (alongside her more fragile qualities). practical and level-headed on the battlefield, at least when eren is not included in the picture.

worst quality: struggles to let go of the past (understandable, considering her trauma). tunnel-vision when it comes to eren, obv. extreme levels of delusions ("if only i spoke openly about my romantic feelings for him - as if i didn't made them abundantly clear in ⁓6 years - he wouldn't kill 80% of humanity :(((" lmao okay. just. okay), but that's more on the writing. she's sadly more static than any other main character throughtout the whole series.

ship them with: see above :) but recently i've also started to be intrigued by mikasa/annie and mikasa/sasha. also, i'm sympathetic to jeankasa fans, though i don't actually care for the ship.

brotp them with: EMA trio, especially armin+mikasa. their friendship is so beautiful and special. also sasha.

needs to stay away from: ...... eren, at least romantically. again, that's more on the writing than anything else, but e.remika unfortunately encompasses many tropes i loathe with all the strength of my old shriveled heart: childhood friends-to lovers where the (male) childhood friend doesn't acknolewdge/is completely indifferent to the other (female) friend's romantic feelings, she hopelessly pines for him for years without anything more than a cold shoulder... until in the last chapter it's revealed that he loved her all along and doesn't "want other men to have her!!! :((" (then why did you have no reaction whatsoever to jean's years-long crush on her while she was jealous of any vaguely female-shaped human being you were friendly to, including hange? are you that dumb, man?); the female character's development and entire arc 100% revolves around the male protagonist - she has no goals, no dreams of her own except staying with him forever and ever; the romance is based on an idealized childhood dream, therefore reaffirming those childish illusions would make the character regress, not actually grow up (and nope, epilogue!jk doesn’t count; that also lacks build-up - i would’ve said the same about rm as well, so it’s not about shipping, guys, it really isn’t - and mikasa needed an inner change; getting married to another man but still praying to eren’s shrine is not substitute to actual development lol). post-time skip she's never really frustrated/angry with him, they never get a confrontation about him becoming a, y'know, mass-murderer of gigantic (pun intended) proportions; she puts him on a pedestal, and never stops idealizing him/never sees him for what he actually is (the narrative framing him as some kind of tragic martyr/saint eren from paradis with zero agency and basically... no clear motivation for the abovementioned mass murder, and not the actual complex tragic anti-hero/villain motivated by revenge and righteous fury he deserved to be, does not help). it lacks a good or even decent build-up - it's basically all tell and not show. now, if they'd actually been childhood friends to enemies to lovers/mutually co-dependent... it could have been interesting. sadly, it's not my cup of tea. of course this is just my personal preference, no hard feelings to the shippers.

misc. thoughts: enormous potential. she's been my fav female character since s1 - and ah, i miss s1!mikasa, when she had actually other stuff to do besides mothering eren. i love that she's the strongest warrior (second only to levi, obv), that her skills are never called into questions despite her gender, i love how she stands up for herself and the people she loves, that she may seem cold and stoic and yet has a such a huge heart, that she's not perfect but also sometimes awe-inspiring. sadly, she never really gets out of eren's shadow; what she lacks is an arc focused on herself. that's why imo getting deeper into the ackerman lore would've helped (also, you cannot make the main female character and the most popular male character descend from the same Unique Bloodline or whatever, and never really make them acknowledge it out loud; as a writer, you just can't lol). my spite is so strong that i'm currently writing a ridiculously pretentious fic that's 70% development for her character, to give her a voice, and 30% ackerthirsting. (yes, that's the fic i'm always vagueblogging about lmao, rip @ my brain). if any other rivamika fan is interested… mind you, it’s in italian tho, and idt i have the skills to translate into english.

misa:

general opinion: fall in a hole and die | don’t like them | eh | they’re fine I guess | like them! | love them | actual love of my life 

hotness level: get away from me | meh | neutral | theoretically hot but not my type | pretty hot | gorgeous! | 10/10 would bang

hogwarts house: gryffindor | slytherin | ravenclaw | hufflepuff

daemon: mmh, maybe some kind of butterfly? beautiful, colorful, and short-lived.

best quality: glorious fashion sense, more inventive and ingenious than fans actually give her credit for.

worst quality: shallow, impulsive, and obv her dependence on/obsession with light (which stems from trauma btw, but still… the very opposite of a relationship between equals).

ship them with: rem, kinda (monster/human ftw!). also weirdly enough mogi, a little bit? she deserves someone who actually respects her… though she’s far from being a perfect angel. she may actually be crazier than light on some aspects. but in this house we stan evil ladies anyway, so i have no problem with that <3

brotp them with: uh, idk, maybe matsuda?

needs to stay away from: obv light. also takada.

misc. thoughts: a tragic victim of sexist writing. she may be… unhinged to say the least, but she didn’t deserve the abuse she got from light (and from the fans). the female characters’ writing in dn is so bad that idk if it’s on purpose, to kinda mirror the reality of women in a patriarchal society (dependent on men, housewives whose life entirely revolves around their husband/boyfriend etc.), or just casual misogyny lol. it’s even more baffling since we don’t know the author’s gender (they may be a man, a woman, nb, anything really). i tend for the latter option tho.

aegon greyjoy (now, i wasn’t expecting him lol):

general opinion: fall in a hole and die | don’t like them | eh | they’re fine I guess | like them! | love them | actual love of my life 

hotness level: get away from me | meh | neutral | theoretically hot but not my type | pretty hot | gorgeous! | 10/10 would bang

hogwarts house: gryffindor | slytherin | ravenclaw | hufflepuff

i’m so sorry, i haven’t the slightest idea lmao. maybe gryffindor? mind you, it’s been a long time since i’ve re-read the books, so i don’t have many thoughts about him.

daemon: maybe it’s cliché, but some kind of fish/squid lmao

best quality: ugh, i really can’t remember much from his chapters :(( he’s not a coward, i guess? (lame answer, sorry!)

worst quality: definitely his religious fanaticism.

ship them with: no one.

brotp them with: uh… his family, ig? except euron.

needs to stay away from: obv euron. brr ://

misc. thoughts: i genuinely like the greyjoys chapters, though i vastly prefer the martells (with the exception of theon and asha, bcs i love them). yes, they’re deranged. yes, victarion is… well, victarion lol. but the drowned god religion is actually interesting, grrm knows how to write trauma - every time aeron mentions euron and that freaking door i’m like… :// - and the tragedy of it all… just great writing all around.

okay, that’s the end lmao. thank you so much, love!!! ❤❤

[blindkite]

While it's none of my business, may I inquire about what ails you?

I’ve actually been pretty open about my illnesses (since it affects my commissions work and anything schedule related) so I don’t mind! 

Some of them need a little explaining as to what they are, and it’s kinda a long list. I have alot of health problems.

Hashimoto’s disease is my main issue, its a type of autoimmune disease that causes hypothyroidism, aka, i regularly have to get blood tests and up meds to keep up with its fast progression. Not fatal, but its a fuckin pain in the ass i tell you.

Normally it isnt such havoc to deal with, but I’ve actually had symptoms of this since childhood, so I was ALWAYS being tested for thyroid issues, but nothing came up, so it was chalked up as whiny kid just complaining and faking sick for attention. 

I went an extremely long time misdiagnosed because i had a rare variant of it that required a nonstandard test to find, (It’s called Test Negative Hashimoto’s, cause it shows as negative on general tests)  so by the time i was finally diagnosed and put on meds, alot of damage had already been done to my body and there was no reversing it. If it had been caught sooner, I would never of become this sick, there’s even a chance it could of been stopped entirely. All it would of taken was one doctor to think to try the alternate test, instead of just blaming it on being a whiny kid.

As you can tell, I’m extremely salty about this.

Next up,

Ehlers–Danlos syndromes (EDS), I have the hyper-mobility type, which means my joints love to lock and dislocate over literally nothing. washing dishes? not anymore, now your fingers refuse to move. walking? hope you didnt need that knee to bend. again, its more annoying than anything. I do sound like a box of rice krispies whenever i move tho (snap crackle pop)

Fibromyalgia is also in the mix, this is a recent diagnosis since it was kinda hiding behind the EDS, since they have similar all pain all the time. Tho this has the bonus of hurting a fuck ton if you poke me, and pain in random places for no reason! Also I’m young and in a state that fears opioid/pain medication abuse so, all i get is some Alleve and a prayer!!!!

Irritable bowel syndrome (IBS) is also a newbie diagnosis, because it was hiding behind the hashimoto’s, which also causes digestive issues. Also I have the annoying version you can’t take medication for, I either strictly control my diet or i fucking suffer. I’m basically in a constant state of, the more they treat, the more they find wrong, which is not great.

Last up is Circadian rhythm disorder, aka, I was born naturally nocturnal. And no, it is not a matter of a strict schedule and some melatonin to fix. Been there, tried that. Because of the life long sleep issues (i was literally like this as a baby), i’m prone to insomnia if my natural sleep is fucked with, with the bonus of getting super vivid hallucinations! FUN!!! So yeah, I fuck with that as little as possible. It does what it wants, and I’m just along for the ride.

AND WHAT AGGRAVATES AND MAKES ALL THESE THINGS WORSE??DRUMMROLL PLEASEEEEEE~!

STRESS. STRESS IS WHAT MAKES IT WORSE.

As it is, i already have Anxiety + ADHD (or High functioning Autism, as my doctor recently realized it might actually be??) so bad its like i have boss music playin 24/7, so my very spanish soap opera like family who loves to find trouble no matter where they go, makes it very hard to NOT be stressed. Which means my health very often spins out of control. And when its out of control, they all eat into each other.

Which results in an extremely shit a immune system, pain, dangerously low amounts of sleep and fevers on a weekly basis.

None of it is fun, its very complicated and just an all around not great time.

Thanks for coming to my TED TALK 

[southsidestory]

you have bipolar disorder? how did you get to that conclusion? did you go to a doctor? i don’t want to self diagnose but i’ve read up on it a lot and it seems like my grandfather, father, and i have it. its made life super difficult. I even stopped writing ff bc when i posted, people wouldn’t understand how depressive episode make you not want to do anything for literal months at a time and would berate me for not updating 1/2

2/2 and my family is Mexican so they believe that mental illness is an American Thing, so i cant really go to them for help, and i wouldn’t even know where to begin with a doctor. what was your experience with it?

I did go to a psychiatrist, yes, but I had been experiencing symptoms since I was 12. I was 26 when I was finally correctly diagnosed. Before that I’d been misdiagnosed with MDD (major depressive disorder) and put on a cocktail of meds that mostly made me worse. Being correctly diagnosed is hugely important, and I highly recommend that someone see a psychiatrist rather than self diagnosing. 

But. Not everyone has the privilege of easy access to a psychiatrist, and it sounds like you’re in that category. And I can say from personal experience that I knew I was bipolar before I was diagnosed, because it runs in my family and my symptoms were astoundingly obvious by that point. Since you asked, I’ll tell you about my experience.

As I said, I started experiencing bipolar symptoms when I was a kid. I also have PTSD and GAD, and my anxiety has been with me all my life, but my depression started when I was 12. A nurse practitioner put me on the antidepressant Lexapro, which made me worse--because antidepressants don’t work for bipolar people. Our brains aren’t wired for it. So I quit taking Lexapro and didn’t attempt to treat my mental illness with medicine for the next ten years. 

I also started having hypomanic episodes as a young teenager, but I didn’t recognize them for what they were. I wouldn’t sleep for days and I’d be highly productive and feel great, so why would I complain about that or think it’s a problem? But the longer I went untreated the more severe my episodes became and the longer they lasted, and by the time I hit my 20s I was in a really bad place. Depressed 85% of the time, hypomanic 10% (although I didn’t know that’s what it was), and “normal” about 5%. My depressive episodes often lasted for months at a time, briefly broken by a week or two of hypomania, after which I’d plummet right back into depression.

I went to a psychiatric nurse practitioner when I was 22. He assumed I was depressed and put me on antidepressants and anti-anxiety meds. That mostly made me worse. The only thing that ever really worked was Abilify, which is an atypical antipsychotic shockingly used to treat bipolar disorder. That really should have been a fucking clue, but I went improperly diagnosed for another four years.

Being on a cocktail of the wrong meds made me worse, which led me to stop taking my meds cold turkey, which is always a bad idea. In April 2016 I had a horrible mixed episode, although I didn’t understand what it was then. For those who don’t know, a mixed episode is when someone is manic and depressed at the same time, and it’s pure hell. During my episode, I broke up with my partner right before our first wedding anniversary, quit my job, and almost committed suicide. (Then I moved back home and my mom promptly died, but that’s a whole ‘nother can of worms.)

Fortunately my partner and I got back together, and they helped me figure out what was going on. They’re also bipolar, but unlike me they were diagnosed as a kid, and our symptoms presented differently so that’s probably why neither of us saw it for a long time.

I finally saw a psychiatrist at the beginning of 2017, and I went in already knowing what I was going to hear. My mom had been diagnosed with bipolar disorder a couple of years before she died, so I knew it ran in my family. My symptoms had worsened significantly and my hypomania had finally become so distinct and unhealthy that it couldn’t be overlooked anymore.

None of my previous health care providers had ever asked me, “What do you feel like when you’re at your happiest?” If they had, it would have probably been obvious that I suffer from bipolar disorder, not unipolar depression. Because my “happiest” looks like extreme periods of creative productivity, days or weeks of insomnia, and some very bad decision making lol. Usually followed by a crash landing back into depression.

So I guess that’s my question for you. What do you feel like when you’re at your happiest? If your “up” periods sound like hypomania or mania, which I’m sure you’ve read about, then yeah there’s a good chance you’re bipolar. :/

And if you are bipolar, I cannot stress enough how important it is to get proper medication. I don’t want to scare you, but something like 20% of bipolar people die from committing suicide. And those are just the successful ones; the number who attempt, sometimes multiple times, is much higher. This is an extremely dangerous, disabling, potentially deadly illness. Although you can learn helpful coping strategies in therapy, and a good support system is also very important, the #1 thing you need to treat bipolar disorder is medication. It’s a chemical imbalance in the brain that, for 99% of us, cannot be effectively managed without mood stabilizers and/or antipsychotics. Every bipolar person I know (my mom, my aunt, my partner, and one of my friends) didn’t get better until they were on meds, and it was the same for me.

All this to say, if you suspect you’re bipolar, I encourage you to do every single thing in your power to get to a psychiatrist. I’d like to say your family might come around, but if you say they believe mental illness is an “American Thing” then I believe you. In which case, you need to advocate for yourself now and worry about their opinions later. Assuming you’re an adult, which I’m *really* hoping you are. If you’re a minor, that makes this much harder.

When you say you’re Mexican, I don’t know if you mean you’re living in Mexico or living in the US. If Mexico, I can’t point you toward resources, but if you happen to live in the US, most major cities have FQHCs (federally qualified health centers), which are aimed at serving poor people, and many of which provide mental health care services.

If you do have access to a psychiatrist, I can give you some pointers on what to do before your first appointment. I went into mine with a list of symptoms and how long I’d been experiencing them, family history of mental illness, previous medication regimens, and a summary of my trauma. When I handed it over to my psychiatrist she was like “Well it’s quite clear that you’re bipolar. I’m sorry you’ve been misdiagnosed for so long.”

If you’re comfortable DMing me, please feel free. Regardless, I hate to hear that you’re struggling, but I do want you to know that things can get better. I honestly feel like I lost the years between age 12 and 26, because I spent them so miserable, but since getting properly medicated my life has turned around completely. I want to see that happen for you too, nonny.

[cryxmercy]

Does HIPPA Still Apply If I Tell You I’m Immortal? || Mercy & Queenie

When: Current, early afternoon Where: White Crest Memorial Hospital Clinic Who: Mercy and Dr. King @drqueenieking

TW: hospitals, death mention, drowning mention, assault mention, injury mention, medical blood, non-con (r/t supernatural powers), mental health, PTSD

A Fury walks into a doctor’s office…  

This was stupid. 

She shouldn’t be here. She didn’t need this. She didn’t need a doctor. It was… ridiculous. 

The slight tremor of her hands - though it happened intermittently - said otherwise. As did the new onset sleepwalking. It had happened again last night. This time she’d ended up in the street, waking up to the blare of a car horn as it swerved to miss her. She would’ve been fine if it hadn’t. Wouldn’t she? It was just a small four-door sedan, after all, and not a semi. She’d had worse. The thought of waking up inside a morgue freezer turned her stomach, and her ire at Dr. Kavanagh, who still had her blocked online (the coward), made her frown.

But it wasn’t the near-miss VVP that had pushed Mercy to call the clinic - asking specifically for the seemingly competent doctor that had treated her in the ER back during the mime-madness - but the idea of not being in control of her body. She hadn’t lied when she’d told Blanche it had never been in issue before. Not in all her 1200 years. And she hadn’t been lying when she’d said she would tell Arthur if it happened again. She would. Later. Once she ruled out any lingering issues of the all too human variety. Still, Mercy didn’t like it here. With it’s antiseptic smell that didn’t hide the lingering miasma of sickness 

that saturated everything. From the stark white walls hung with cheap artwork, to the out of date magazines that begged to be put out of their misery in the nearest trash bin. 

So by the time she was called back, Mercy was damn near ready to scrap the whole thing. But if she ran now, she was no better than a coward. And Mercy was many things, but a coward wasn’t one of them. So she gave the young nurse a forced smile and followed her down the hallway where she was weighed, her vital signs taken, and asked a series of standard questions. Allergies? None. Meds? Nope. Drink? Daily. Smoke? Sometimes. Drugs? Medicinal. 

The nurse gave her a small side-eye, but made a few notes in the chart and left Mercy alone - with instructions to change into the little paper gown on the table - to wait on the doctor. Mercy waited anxiously, finding only mild satisfaction in tossing the ‘gown’ where it belonged: in the trash. She had once again decided this was a bad fucking idea after a solid twenty minutes passed and no doctor. She’d just made up her mind to leave - Fuck this… - when the door finally opened.

The day had been surprisingly slow. Without any near fatal car accidents or wild animal attacks which continued to be one of the most prominent emergency room visits that they received, Queenie had been keeping herself busy by making her rounds around the rooms, popping in with other doctors and requesting that they let her take on some of their work. After all, chances were high that the end result would be better off in Queenie’s hands anyways. Most of the doctor’s in the hospital knew this even if they weren’t willing to admit it. 

However, it turned out that someone had specifically asked for her. Since Queenie did not typically take appointments, this surprised her. The closest thing that she had to a monthly appointment was checking Blanche for a concussion or setting a bone that had come out of socket. And those instances were never scheduled officially, Queenie had just become used to them being a monthly occurrence. If not sooner. So when the nurse had told her, Queenie agreed to it and added it to her calendar, wondering who was coming in and why they specifically wanted to see her.

Queenie often lost track of time at the hospital, and today was no exception. She had been distracted when the nurse told her about the woman’s arrival and had instead been entirely too focused on reminding a fellow doctor that his diagnosis of a patient had been entirely off base and borderline negligent. It wasn’t until the doctor had angrily stormed off that Queenie remembered that she had a patient waiting for her. She jogged across the hospital floor until she found the room on the clipboard that the nurse had given to her and knocked on the door, pushing it open seconds later. “Good afternoon” Queenie began, only glancing at the woman while reading the clipboard. Finally, she looked back up, “You’re a familiar face.” She had been in a few months ago maybe, Queenie couldn’t be sure. “What brings you in today?”

Mercy froze when the door opened and the doctor she remembered from the ER walked in. Well, at least she was seeing the person she’d asked for. Not that this was any easier for Mercy. She hadn’t been to a doctor in… so long that she couldn’t remember. Probably during the Cold War. But this was hardly post-WWII Russia. It was a tiny room at White Crest Memorial. And Mercy wasn’t a spy. She was… tired. She was just… tired. 

It seemed the doctor recognized her too. A double gunshot wound - one of those to the neck - that hadn’t been DOA would probably have been memorable. Or maybe the woman was just being nice. Who knew. Either way, she got right down to business. Mercy appreciated that. 

She sat back on the table, and got right to the point. “I had an accident recently. I drowned. I almost died. I lost my vision for a month afterwards. Vitreous hemorrhage. Since my vision came back… a few weeks now… I’ve started having tremors. In my hands mostly. And I’ve been sleepwalking. I’ve never experienced either of those things before. Insomnia, yes. Nightmares, yes. But never anything quite so severe. So I guess I just wanted to make sure there was nothing… wrong.” She didn’t know what to ask for as far as tests or anything else. So she left it there for now. 

Emergency rooms never exactly gave the best first impression of a person. It was never easy to tell if someone was a friendly person or not when their life was at stake. This woman, Mercy, for instance had been in the emergency room before. She looked lethargic, annoyed even. But she couldn’t tell if these were simply faucets of her personality considering the last time she had seen the woman it had involved a gunshot wound. Most people weren’t exactly sociable after getting shot. 

“You almost drowned? How long ago was this?” Queenie moved toward the table, grabbing at the woman’s wrist and beginning to check her pulse. All seemed normal. “You lost your vision because of it?” That was interesting, and not at all a common side effect of drowning, even the ones with extended periods of exposure to water. “Tremors and sleepwalking… interesting. Have you experienced any shortness of breath? Extreme tiredness?” She glanced down at the patient’s hand she had been using to check the pulse and noticed her finger nails. No discoloration there, that was a good sign. “Where did you almost drown? A lake? The ocean? Your bathtub?” 

Mercy had never been accused of having the warmest personality. And when she was hurt or worried - she’d been both at the time - it only got worse. Usually, she was full of energy. Other than not being a morning person. But who was? And her annoyance came from having enough weird shit going on with her body and in her head that she felt like coming here was one of her last options. So she was thankful when the doctor didn’t dally. 

“A month? Six weeks maybe? Time sorta starts to run together after awhile.” Mercy let herself be examined, watching as the woman checked her pulse. “Yes.” It was either the drowning, or having spent too much time in the place she could only call limbo. A place of darkness and cold, between dying and coming back. “Tell me about it,” Mercy huffed. “Shortness of breath, no. Fatigue…” She frowned. How to explain the eternal weariness that came with being as old as she was? Without revealing how old she was. “Maybe a bit more tired than usual. But I don’t sleep well anyway. Never have.”

Then came the next question: where did she drown. “Dark Score Lake. I was…” Mercy hesitated, but eventually said fuck it. In for a penny and all that shit. “I was assaulted. And that person wrapped their hands around my throat, and held me under until-” The doctor could hopefully draw her own conclusion: until the bubbles stopped. “I was pronounced dead on scene by EMS. So… they took me to the morgue. Where even the medical examiner concluded that I was dead.” Mercy gave the doctor a wan smile. “I woke up in the observation room about four hours later when my friend came to ID my body.”  

So. There it was. 

A month and a half was a long time to continue exhibiting symptoms related to almost drowning. “Fatigue and shortness of breath are both common symptoms of Acute Respiratory Distress Syndrome. Drowning victims that survive often experience this.” She nodded at Mercy’s words, making a note when she mentioned that has never slept well. “Have you ever considered that you may have sleep apnea or some form of insomnia?” Queenie was not entirely concerned about lack of sleep. Not as long as the person was still functioning. However, she knew how long periods of time without sleep could prove to be dangerous. She had too many examples of people falling asleep at the wheel in New York and ending up killing people or getting pretty damned close. “There are doctors that offer sleep studies here. I’m not one of those doctors. However you may consider looking into it.” 

Queenie’s arms dropped to her side as Mercy began explaining the full situation. Her clipboard hit against the railing of the hospital bed as it waved at her side. “You what?” Queenie pressed a finger to her forehead, considering this near impossibility that Mercy had just offered her. “Someone’s heart stopping for that long would risk severe brain damage.” She grabbed at Mercy’s hand again, checking her fingers. No sign that blood circulation had been cut off for an extended period of time. “There is no way you could have actually been dead that long. If I was even going to entertain the idea, I’d recommend a CT scan to make sure you haven’t experienced any brain damage. Honestly, even the thought just seems-” Queenie paused for a moment, noting another point Mercy had made. “You said someone assaulted you? Did they ever catch the person?”

“Insomnia and I are old friends.” Mercy tried to sound blaise, but it fell short. She just sounded... tired. “But no shortness of breath. Not after the first couple of days. And that was mostly because I was coughing so much.” She left out the part about the black oil, if only because she hadn’t seen it for herself. Mercy glanced up to the doctor’s face as she suggested a sleep study. That would probably be a terrible idea. No, it would be a terrible idea. “I’ll think about it,” Mercy nodded, even if she had no intentions whatsoever of letting a complete stranger - likely a human stranger - watch her sleep. 

When she explained the rest, the doctor’s reaction was… well, it wasn’t as bad as Mercy had anticipated. Honestly, she’d expected to be told - again - that it wasn’t possible. That there had been some mistake. Or some other excuse to make Mercy sound insane. “I’m aware,” she said with a note of long-suffering patience. She let the doctor examine her hands again. They looked like normal hands. Small and fine-boned, with neatly manicured nails. There was a tattoo on the underside of her right forearm, and what looked like an old burn scar shaped vaguely like a ‘P’ on the underside of her left wrist. Though she kept it covered with a watch or wrist-band of some sort. 

Mercy huffed when the doctor hit the proverbial nail right on the head. “Yeah.” But that was all she said about the medical examiner. She had her opinions, but she wasn’t here to talk about that. Instead, Mercy nodded in agreement that if she had actually been dead - truly dead - then she would likely not be sitting here now. But then again, Mercy wasn’t human.     

“Insane?” she said, finishing the doctor’s sentence for her. “Yeah. It does. But… there are conditions that mimic death to the point where even a doctor might be fooled. Catalepsy. The Lazarus Phenomenon. Fugu toxin. Even severe hypothermia.” Or being immortal. But it wasn’t as if Mercy could just come out and say that, could she? No matter how much the incident had affected her. 

Mercy hummed quietly, acknowledging the question about the assault. “Yeah. I was out by the lake. I walk at night when I can’t sleep,” she gave as an explanation, since ‘I was helping an exorcist and a supernatural bounty hunter kill and banish a squid-demon back to it’s own dimension’ would most certainly get her a psych workup. “This guy - I think he was drunk or on something - figured he could mug me. Didn’t expect me to fight back. He got the upper hand.” Mercy shrugged, as if it was no big deal. “Yeah, he’s... taken care of.” Not a lie, technically. But she wasn’t about to out Nic when it wasn’t his fault. 

“Why?”

“That sounds awful for you and your friend. I can’t imagine what that must have been like to wake up to.” Though Queenie was not entirely interested in the woman’s individual experience, she had to admit that it was fascinating to consider. How could someone have come back after that long without any permanent damage being done? 

The woman named off explanations for her sudden brush with dead and Queenie crossed her arms, “So you know a bit about medicine then? That’s quite impressive” Queenie didn’t use the term lightly, but liked to give credit where credit was due. Most of those were uncommon phenomena that rarely occurred and were even less frequently diagnosed as such. It was easy to pass things off as miracles or unexplainable. Lesser doctors were easily willing to except those explanations at times, whether it was because they were too incompetent to seek out the truth for themselves or because they enjoyed the idea of a miracle being associated with their name.

“I can’t imagine. Well, I am glad that he is taken care of. I do not drive, so I typically walk home from the hospital at all different hours of the day. I don’t like the idea of someone dangerous like that being on the loose.” Queenie explained. For what it was worth, all that time spent in New York and she had never so much as seen a mugger. From the stories she had heard in the ER, she supposed she could consider herself lucky. On the flipside, she had been in White Crest for only a couple of weeks before she had been attacked and her leg injured. Not that Queenie was willing to admit that Regan may have some backing to her baseless claim that animals were more violent here in White Crest. That must have just been an unlucky coincidence. 

“Well considering all the information that I’ve heard, I’m thinking your issue may not be physical at all.” Queenie crossed her arms, studying the clipboard again. “I am no psychologist, but you seem to be in good physical health. From what I’ve heard about your experience both with the mugger and then in the morgue it seems like you may be more aligned with some sort of PTSD. Though keep in mind that I am in no way qualified to diagnose that officially.” It was more of a hypothesis if anything, one that Queenie did not like to give formally unless necessary. However, from what Queenie had seen so far there didn’t seem to be any evidence that Mercy was suffering any visible defects following the attempted drowning. “I would be interested in running a CT scan, just to be sure. I’d be willing to do it myself, and can set up a time with you if interested.” Queenie tore a sticky note free and scribbled her information down on the pad and handed it off to her. 

Mercy had only tried to talk to Regan to explain that what the medical examiner had witnessed hadn’t been a medical oversight, but more an oversight of Mercy not being human. And only because Mercy knew Regan was fae. As the medical examiner, Regan needed to know - for her own safety as well as the safety of others - what she was dealing with when it came to the non-human residents of White Crest. But she hadn’t wanted to hear it. And Mercy wasn’t the type to beg someone to listen which is why she hadn’t gone over to the morgue and confronted Regan herself. It was only a matter of time before her denial would catch up with her. And that probably made Mercy more angry than anything. Because she’d seen the results of people turning a blind eye to one another. It never ended well.  

“It was… not the best,” Mercy said truthfully. “I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. But… we’re alright.” At least, she thought they were. Arthur tended to keep things close to the vest sometimes, not wanting to upset her. She couldn’t manage to be upset with him for that. 

Mercy smiled again at the compliment. “I try to stay informed.” Plus she’d had a long, long time to research certain things. One didn’t live for 1200 years without several periods of wondering how it all worked. Mercy had come to the conclusion that some things were simply unexplainable. At least in human terms. Miracles existed, but they were rare. Even more rare than Mercy herself.

Mercy nodded as the subject of her assailant passed, glad she wasn’t getting too many questions. It was dealt with. They moved on, and after Dr. King was done examining Mercy, she seemed to come to a tentative conclusion. One that didn’t surprise Mercy. Who didn’t like shrinks. At all. “Post-Traumatic Stress,” Mercy nodded as she took the information in. “I suppose that makes sense. I… I used to be a cop. Before I came here. Seattle. New York before that. We got…” She waved a hand towards her head. “- psych screens all the time. I always passed,” she assured the doctor. “But yeah. Okay. I’ll… look into it.” Mercy wouldn’t look into it. She knew what PTSD was. Had probably suffered from it for centuries. Only they didn’t have a name for it then. She was just glad to have checked out alright physically.

Dr. King mentioned a CT scan and handed Mercy a sticky note. “Thanks,” Mercy told Dr. King, tucking the note away in a pocket after she’d read over it. “I’ll think about it and let you know She’d talk to Arthur first, before she made any decisions. Who knew what the brain of a 1200 year old immortal would look like on a scan like that? It might invite more trouble than it was worth. 

“I would be interested in hearing about any further symptoms or experiences that you may have regarding this. Being legally dead that long is practically unheard of, even with the medical examples that Mercy had given. It could be valuable information to study. Not nearly as much of a medical marvel as someone with wings, but still fascinating stuff. If Queenie were a skeptic, she may even consider that Maine or White Crest truly did have something that caused it to be more susceptible to anomalies. If Queenie were willing to make an hypothesis based purely on a string of unrelated coincidences.

Based on the new information, PTSD seemed even more lucky. So Queenie nodded, “Between that and then your recent attack, I would say it’s not unlikely. It may be worth looking into at the very least.” Though Queenie herself had always considered psychology to be more medically adjacent than a study of medicine in itself, she at least acknowledged that sometimes symptoms were outside of her own physical control. Even if she thought that psychiatrists were glorified counselors that liked to play pharmacist. 

Though Queenie did not hold out much hope that Mercy would be returning for a CT scan anytime soon, she also had other things that she could be focusing on instead. She did not have much concern what Mercy did either way. “Well, you have my contact information. If any symptoms get worse please feel free to contact me. Apparently, I make house calls now.” Queenie stated sarcastically, adding in “At least the town seems to think so.” beneath her breath. “If there’s nothing else bothering you at the moment, then I’d guess that you’re good to go.”

The request to hear more about Mercy’s experience of being ‘legally dead’ for almost four hours wasn’t all that surprising. She could understand the curiosity from a medical standpoint - cheating death was what doctors did, wasn’t it? - and part of her even relished the idea that Dr. King was willing to discuss it. To learn. But Mercy wasn’t going to be a science experiment. She’d taken a risk revealing what she had. But Dr. King had been kind, and she’d listened seemingly without bias. So Mercy granted her one thing. “It’s very dark... and very cold,” she said of her experience with ‘death.’ “Wherever I was, I don’t ever wish to return.” She gave Dr. King a small, tight smile. 

As for the rest. “I’ll give it some thought.” And she would. Not a lot, because she wasn’t about to let some human head doctor try and psychoanalyze her. It wouldn’t end well. For either party. Would Mercy be coming back for a head scan too? Also not likely. She’d checked out physically, so that was good enough for her. It might even satisfy Arthur’s insistence that she get herself checked over. Well, now she had. And she was fine. So when Dr. King started to wrap up, Mercy was quite ready to be on her way. She gave Dr. King a small smirk. “Be careful with that around here,” she said of the house calls. “You never know who you’ll run into.” Or what. “People’ll start to take advantage.”

After thanking the doctor for her time, Mercy agreed that if anything new or concerning came up, she’d be sure to call. Though Mercy’s definition of ‘concerning’ was likely far, far different than Dr. King’s. 

~

[skruffie]

in which I’m getting to know my brain better

I can’t really pinpoint a time when I started reading about ADHD and believed that maybe it was something that I had. I think it’s kind of been in the back of my head from when ADD was still a commonly-used term but then I would go “naaaah can’t be me, I’m just a lazy person!” I remember ages ago in high school I was at a friend’s house and watching their brothers and I thought “This is what actual ADHD looks like” so I guess that kind of pins it for me thinking about it as long ago as 15 years ago but I never gave it serious consideration until more recently.

(This is very, very long so I don’t blame you if you want to just skip it entirely)

Just last night I was talking to Zack and I was giggling and going “I still can’t believe I really didn’t see this before” and they were going “Really?”

Let’s think about this. As a kid I was always pretty sensitive and had weird... I used to call them compulsions but now I wonder if it was more impulsive behavior where I would hoard things like rocks and leaves or do dangerous shit without thinking about it (one memory comes to mind immediately when I noticed there was broken glass on the playground and I started meticulously picking it up as carefully as I could, and my teacher freaked out when she saw what I was doing. It unsettled my mom too, but me explaining that I didn’t want anyone to get hurt didn’t help put them at ease). I would be deeply sucked into my imagination at times, like... 

When I was a kid I always kind of pictured myself like everything that was happening was a movie. I don’t really mean this in a dissociative derealization kind of thing, but just imagining every second was a movie or a video game. Sometimes I still do this. I can’t really pinpoint if there were a lot of hyperactive symptoms other than countless times my mom told me to stop fiddling with my hands or string or whatever was within my grasp. I would always come home from school dirty with grass stains on my jeans and holes in my knees and rocks in my pockets, earning the title “skruffy ragamuffin” from my sister, but I just kind of figured that was part of being a kid. Looking at it NOW through this viewpoint gives me second thought though.

I picked up on physical activities rather quickly from a young age like dancing and karate--probably the physical movement was what I needed to help me focus--and I do things like pick at the skin around my thumbs, bite the inside of my cheeks (Didn’t realize this was a thing until I watched Hannah Hart describe it as part of her fidgeting and went “OH.”)

As I got older and after my sister died, see... I always viewed this time period in my life as I couldn’t do school or focus because of my grief and my home life falling apart, and I think part of that is still true. However, I would continue this with “And because of that I didn’t form good study habits and that continued into highschool when I stopped giving a shit”. Which was better than thinking I was just a stupid failure, and I really don’t think I am stupid... I can think quickly on my feet, I notice things that other people don’t, I’ve been an advanced reader from a VERY early age and I can infer correct answers from context clues and analyze things in that way. 

There is one memory from high school that, in the past, I thought maybe was tied to an emotional flashback but I realize now that it might’ve been Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria. There was a weird disagreement that I was having with a friend of mine over something (truly can’t remember what it was about now), and somehow this rejection of him not listening to me spiraled me into this state of Why Should I Fucking Bother and the first target for this heavy, painful feeling was “okay, well I should just stop drawing because Why Should I Fucking Bother”. My English teacher found me sitting in the hallway crying and sat down with me to ask what was happening and I tried to explain, and then he had me show him my artwork and he goes “You are an incredible artist, you shouldn’t give this up.” One of few teachers in my life who I will always respect because he was always stern in a kind way, understanding, and an overall wonderful man.

I’m kind of getting off track here but I think that’s really just self-demonstrating at this point.

When I worked at Target there wasn’t really an opportunity for the ADHD type symptoms to manifest because I was pretty much always moving. In school I could zone out very easily but at work I was able to have more bouts of focus, but traded off my inattention for anxiety instead. This was also just a few years after the big PTSD causing event, but retail in general can give pretty much anyone some anxiety issues. Nonetheless, the things that I enjoyed about working there is that I was able to master my work zone completely (to a point of annotating the training guide with new information and keeping it updated), became the go-to person for several things, and I enjoyed being able to have a bit of freedom of movement around my work space. I enjoyed being able to have physical, tangible ways to see progress being made on something and there was a surprising amount of nuance and problem-solving when it came to resolving customer complaints. 

Moving to a desk job in 2018 was a weird departure from all of that. I had started off kind of as a clerical worker and would compile the concrete goods vouchers that we send out to our clients, receive them back, prepare them for scanning, scan+upload to case files, etc. It was dreadfully boring a lot of the time but I didn’t mind the long stretches where I could sit and prepare documents for scanning because I was able to listen to music while I got them ready. After a while I was encouraged to become a fiduciary, and that is really when the Maybe I Have ADHD started to rear it’s head.

My job doesn’t have the tangible way to see that I’ve made progress. I update placements to generate foster care payments, I generate the vouchers for concrete goods, I put in ongoing foster care case management payments or daycare payments, I will sometimes resolve some payment issues but only to a certain point--I’m able to see information but being able to solve the problem is actually not my area unless I can correct it within the case management system. There is an extreme need to be detail oriented because we work with specific service dates, with some services ongoing but some needing to be renewed every six months, gobs of emails with paperwork and trying to get the right signatures on everything because we’re dealing in state money...

on top of this, in order to move into the permanent position, I’ve been taking the accounting classes online outside of work and (until the pandemic started) having a long commute-work-commute day that totaled about 12 hours out of my waking life. My diet changed radically because Zack and I didn’t see each other often and getting home at 6:30 at night didn’t leave a lot of room to cook and then eat before having downtime to sleep... only to wake up at 5:30 AM again... my insomnia started kicking in to a point now where I take a benadryl through the work week to keep my sleep schedule on track. I started having anxiety attacks at work because trying to keep up with remembering all the little details I need to at work was getting to me. 

As I was training, I would write a post-it reminder whenever I repeated a mistake and stick it to my monitor. I got up to about 14 post-its before it became distracting and I instead compiled them onto a list and tacked it to my cubicle wall.

A few months into this I had a crying jag talking to Zack because it felt like something was really wrong and I couldn’t pinpoint what exactly. Depression? Anxiety? Trauma? School trauma? I think it’s just been untreated ADHD this whole time. I keep thinking back to this post I’ve seen on Tumblr a long time ago where someone said “disability exists in the context of the environment” and I think that’s what’s happening to me. I previously have bee in environments that weren’t butting up against The ADHD as much, but this job has been extremely challenging for the past 11 months. 

Thankfully, my boss and I have one-on-one discussions regularly (used to be every other week but since the pandemic started it’s been weekly phone calls) and she has no issues with my work performance... likely because I exert a lot of mental and emotional energy to keep up with everything I need to do. I’m also in charge of the busiest field office in our region--there’s a high turnover rate, lots of child welfare cases, etc--and the social workers that I talk to on the regular enjoy having me as their fiduciary. There have been many times however, despite the fact I seem to be doing pretty good, where it feels like I am hanging on by a fucking thread. Here’s something personal that I don’t think I’ve shared yet on the blog: last year, within the first month and a half of adjusting to this new pace of work and school and the long commutes, the schedule was so stressful for me that it made my period late. Worrying I was pregnant just stressed me out more. Not being able to treat this Probably ADHD has been detrimental to my mental health.

On the 22nd, I’m going to have a telehealth meeting with a doctor to see if I can get a referral for a screening. I kind of worried that if I do get diagnosed with ADHD it would send me into this mourning state of what-could-have-been but honestly... I’m tired. I’m tired of beating myself up for exhausting myself into keeping up with other people. I think I owe it to myself to get the help that I need. Looking at my life with the lens of I Probably Have ADHD has actually given me a renewed sense of self-worth and confidence because it’s something that I can learn how to take control of. It’s worth it. I’m worth it.

[ivyanderscn]

COURTNEY EATON   ,   CIS FEMALE   ,   SHE/HER         →         according   to   the   school   records   ,   IVY HAEATA ANDERSON   has   been   attending   sacred   heart   for   the   past   three years   .   i   last   saw   them   hanging   around   the john bracken library   ;   i   think   they   were   writing poetry in a leather-bound notebook   .   at   twenty one   years   old   ,   ivy   has   been   studying   english literature  and   get   this   ,   i   heard   that   she roams the tunnels when plagued by insomnia in the dead of night   —   figure   it’s   true   ?   everyone   around   here   always   associates   them   with   faded photographs with illegible writing on the back, shaky hands clutching a bouquet of wilted flowers, and the soft sound of rain hitting the roof   .   in   the   time   since   these   strange   happenings   ,   they   have   encountered   unexplained   occurrences    .         (   written   by   rose   ,   23   ,   she/her   ,   est   )

hello lovelies!! my name is rose and apparently i like plant names because this is ivy! i’m super excited to be here. like this and i’ll hit you up to plot!! (or you can dm me, my discord is scoops troops#4933)

tw for death, bullying

- ivy grew up in kaikoura, new zealand. her mother was also raised in kaikoura, while her father was from england. they met as students at the university of canterbury. they had always known that after they graduated, he would go back to the uk, but what they hadn’t planned on was her mother becoming pregnant with ivy. (it was very scandalous, especially given that this was 1952). he had a promising job offer back in england so he left, leaving ivy’s mother and grandmother to raise her. she had a happy childhood in a beautiful beachside town, raised by two women she loved and admired. ivy did go to england every year to spend the summer with her father, and while she didn’t have the best relationship with him, she knew he loved her in his own way.

- when ivy was 11, her mom died. it was extremely devastating for both her and her grandmother. ivy had always been shy, but the loss made her retreat even further into herself. she had always loved reading, and after her mother’s death books became her best friends. she began reading at an advanced level and always had her nose in a book. it wasn’t long before she started writing, too, mostly journaling but also short stories and poetry (the kind of stuff she looks back on now and cringes, but was decent for an 11 year old). a couple years after her mother died, ivy found a box filled with dozens of her mother’s journals. she’s read every page at least five times, and sometimes will look through them to see what her mother was doing on that day however many years ago. they helped ivy feel close to her mom, and the profound impact that they had on her inspired her to become a writer.

- ivy’s shyness made her kind of an easy target in terms of bullying, a seemingly never-ending stream of insults and name calling, and for a long time she just took it because she didn’t think there was any other way to deal with it. but one day when she was in high school, some boys said some… less than savory things about her mom (small town, young single mother, people suck, etc. etc.) and she flipped out. like all of this anger that even ivy didn’t know was bubbling under the surface just kind of exploded. it was so shocking to people, for this sweet, quiet girl to become so loud and angry, that they found it amusing and the bullying got worse. 

- her grandmother was her rock, but she decided she wanted to get as far away from there as she could, and her father suggested she look at universities in the uk. ivy wasn’t sure what drew her to sacred heart, but it just felt like the place she was supposed to be.

- given how shy ivy is, she’s not always the easiest to get to know and she doesn’t have a lot of friends. she’s definitely a wallflower type (wow my subconscious really named this wallflower after a plant that grows on walls, idk how to feel about this lsakdjfhsldkfjhsd) and she typically lets other people take the lead in conversations. she comes across as mousy, in a sweet sort of way. but for the people who actually do get to know her, she’s an extremely kind and loyal person. she’s really passionate about literature and art and music and history and if you’re talking about any of that? all of a sudden she won’t shut up. she doesn’t handle strong emotions well, like she definitely happy cries. and angry cries. and tired cries. basically she cries a lot. her anger is a lot more in check than it was when she was a teenager, but if she feels like someone or something she cares about has been disrespected she will lash out quite suddenly. (and then go cry about it). she’s kind of a mess, emotionally speaking, the one thing that really helps her handle that is writing about her feelings, and she journals religiously. 

- a few quick headcanons: she listens to music like 92% of the time and you can thank her dad for a deep love of britpop and jazz. she loves baking and if she has access to an oven she’ll probably give you cookies on a regular basis. she’s left handed and the side of her hand is always covered in ink smudges. she’ll do stupid things because she thinks it will be good inspiration for a story, when in reality, she’s just being stupid. she has terrible insomnia and sometimes reads encyclopedias to try to fall asleep. she likes to hide behind a camera and take pictures of other people to avoid having pictures taken of her. cannot sing to save her life. loves black coffee and cigarettes and is in denial that beatniks aren’t cool anymore. is pretty much always carrying around a book. scribbles in the margins of everything. her new zealand accent is noticeable but not thick, and is gradually fading the longer she’s in the uk. 

and more aesthetics because it was really hard to narrow down to three: dirt underneath your fingernails, tear-stained cheeks, getting lost in a museum, messy hair, always being cold, stargazing, oversized wool sweaters, preferring to listen rather than speak, homesickness.

wanted connections:

ride or die!!, fairly self-explanatory, someone she can be 100% herself around and in exchange for their love and friendship she’d, you know,  die for them

close friends, pretty much the same thing??

someone she knew from her summers in england!! (i’m pretending that new zealand has their extended school break during the northern hemisphere summer ok)

roommate, i don’t know which would be better, them getting along or them hating each other

enemy/annoyance, it’s not exactly easy to piss her off but once you do she is pissed

writing buddies?? like they share their work with each other and give notes and stuff, maybe in some sort of club?

some sort of mentor? a lit professor would be great but really anyone who teaches the arts/humanities, bonus points for cultists

a professor who hates her, she’s such a goody goody that would really kill her

bad boy meets good girl, honestly i’m a sucker for this trope, i love mess what can i say

really any kind of opposites attract situation, romantic or platonic

flirtationship, she’s really not good at being upfront about how she feels but maybe she’ll write something that’s the poetry version of subtweeting about them, she’s angsty as fuck

exes, just more mess and angst please and thank you

idk if this is too sadistic but maybe the wrong corner of a love triangle? like, the corner that gets left behind when the triangle becomes a line (i can’t do geometry analogies i’m sorry) just a thought because...mess

literally anything, i’m not picky, i want it all

[leona-x-lancaster]

I am the absolute WORST at not following through with plots, and guys...I am SO SORRY about that. I’m just an overall space cadet, and with having to chase two kids around all day and with another on the way, my brain is only barely in function-mode some days. If I have any plots started with you and we haven’t done anything with them, please let me know! I’d love to resume them, or come up with new stuff.

I only have four characters, but I’ll possibly be dropping Mona, even though I’m two characters below the new limit - which I never intended to reach, since six characters would have been way too much to handle for me, at this time. Four’s pushing it, which is why I’m contemplating dropping Mona. The decision is not set in stone yet, but there’s a good possibility. I’ll be keeping Prissy and Andie for now, as well...and Leona is definitely not going anywhere.

Below are a list of plots / connections that I would really love to have for my girls. If you wanna fill one or more of them, just drop me a message and we can totally plot! I promise I will not forget about them this time!

W A N T E D    P L O T S :

Leona Lancaster

OLDER BROTHER - i just submitted a wanted connection for him, so i’d advice you to check that out on the main if you’re interested, to get the full summary of their relationship. but basically he’s Leona’s adopted older brother (they’re both adopted, so ethnicity doesn’t matter), and were raised in Derry by their two dads. he knows of her substance abuse and other issues and is very concerned for her well-being, and though they are very close and love each other very much, they do have a tendency to but heads due to arguments over Leona’s continuation of drugs and alcohol abuse, as well as her eating disorder and her unwillingness to go see a doctor / therapist about her insomnia and depression.

FRIENDS - she loves knowing that she has a large circle of friends. after spending nearly her entire childhood friendless (with a few exceptions) and surrounded by bullies, it brings her great comfort and security knowing that she has people in town that she can count on, and vice verse. she is very protective of her friends, and likely pretty clingy, so expect lots of hugs and random check-ins from her.

INNER CIRCLE - the friends that she has deep roots / ties with. she’s a Derry native so she’s bound to have known some people from her earliest of days, or those she’s formed extremely close bonds with as she grew older. these were the people that she absolutely loves more than anyone else in the universe. [ Wren, Cassi & Jordan - but I’d definitely like to have a few more for her ]

BULLIES - some faces from her past high school days that used to absolutely torment her. like, they were very brutal in their pranks and hazing. maybe they’ve grown up and feel bad for their behavior, or maybe they want to resume their twisted mind fuck games with her...it’s up to you.

FELLOW PARTY PEOPLE - those who like to drink / get high and who are seen at the random parties in town or at Bartini.

CO-WORKERS - she works at Bartini as the main bartender, so i’d love to have some interactions with other employees, like other bartenders or dancers, or serving staff, etc.

Andie Monroe

HUSBAND - submitted a wanted connection for him, too. they’ve been together for ten years, but only married for two, and they have a five-month-old son named Flynn. they have a very wholesome relationship, having had plenty of time to establish themselves as a couple before getting married and starting a family. both are successful people - Andie with her restaurant, and him with UTP.

BABY-SITTER - to help watch her son Flynn while she and her husband are both at work.

FRIENDS - she’s a Derry native, so she is bound to have some close, platonic connections with people.

COUSINS (2) - when she was eight, her single mother passed away from cancer, and so she was taken in my her aunt (her mother’s sister) and uncle and raised alongside her two cousins. she thought of them as more like her siblings than cousins, since they were such a significant part of her life growing up. they were very close.

EMPLOYEES - she owns a restaurant, which she named Andromeda, after herself, so she’ll need waitstaff, cooks, hosts and whatnot. she cherishes and values her employees and tries to build a relationship with them. although she does more of the business side of the restaurant these days, there are times when she joins the cooks in the back - as she is a well trained and skilled chef, and actually really enjoys the work.

Prissy Goldwyn

FRIENDS - she’s a super bubbly and friendly young woman, who is basically just an angel. she doesn’t drink or smoke (she’s never even touched a cigarette in her life), nor does she go out partying or to places like the town’s bars or Bartini. she’s an extrovert, so she loves being around people, she just prefers a more healthy and less chaotic lifestyle. she’s kind of the ‘mom’ of the house when it comes to her housemates. she watches over everyone and makes sure that they’re happy and that they’re taken care of - and that the pantry is stocked, despite the fact that she’s terrible at cooking.

SIBLINGS - an older brother and older sister. she’s the youngest of a family that is extremely wealthy, at least by Derry standards, since her family owns his own financial insurance company in town (Goldwyn Insurance).

HOUSEMATES (2) - currently it’s Prissy, Leona and Gabe who live in the large five bedroom colonial. Two more people would be great to have around, to help share the burden of the bills. any gender is welcome.

EXES - she’s a native, so i imagine she’s had a few exes in between her teen years and now. she’s a full on commitment type of gal, so any of her past relationships would have been serious and not just hook-ups.

CO-WORKERS - she works down at the Golden Spoon as a waitress, so more co-workers wouldn’t go amiss. [ Cassi ]

[dustedandsocial]

One thing and an Other thing

The One Thing:

After many failures in the world of responsible adulthood, I decided in 2010 that I would go full throttle into music distro and record label management. And for a fleeting moment, things were working out in my favor.

But let me back up. I had been having bizarre sleeping patterns going all the way back into my childhood, that no insomnia or depression diagnosis nor medication could ever fix. I never got an answer from a doctor that explained my sleep problems.

Essentially, my body and brain think that a day is 25 hours long. If you pause on that fact for a second, what becomes clear is that my sleep schedule rotates around the clock in a never-ending cycle. This had been the case for me from the age of 10, but clinical research studies were few and far between for most of my life.

Then in the summer of 2011 I learned for the first time that my vague sleeping issue was in fact a disorder, although I didn’t yet know the full extent of the limitations it imposed. Which is why for years I kept thinking there would be some way for me to keep working, despite being fired every time I tried to do so. I mostly lived on an annuity until I was 20 ($1047 per month), which came from a court decision when I was little (my mother committed suicide in a hospital and a court found them responsible, granting settlements to each of my family members). I kept thinking I could dance around extreme sleep fluctuations and pull myself up from the ground by my bootstraps, but I only ever fell back on my annuity.

When I was 12, the cops would show up at my house, wake me up, and drive me to school (my dad was a welder and made an early exit to work at 4:30am). Those near-truancies — as well as all the successful truancies! — along with my insistence on bringing alcohol in my backpack to school, smoking in the bathroom, getting high before school with friends, and stealing car stereos from the high school parking lot, all led me to multiple arrests, finally getting me the boot form junior public high school. There was also the despair of losing my mother at the age of 9, which was certainly an important aspect to all of this maladjustment, if not the most central factor. 

But without a cop showing up at my house, I’d wake up around 5PM.

At 13, I was placed in an “alternative school” (aka a program for trouble makers and drug dealers). Most students would sail though towards a diploma, being graded on video game scores, pick-up basketball games, and honest-to-god fantasy basketball gambling leagues (that I several times created for school credit!). We had smoke breaks twice a day in school, and I even sold one of my teacher’s pot. I only showed up half the school year, yet somehow graduated a half-year early at the age of 17. Basically, our ”alternative learning program” was a way for the school district to fudge numbers and make it look like they had rehabilitated kids. I managed to graduate High School easily without my disability playing a major factor. It all felt like being home schooled but with no parents or curriculum to help. Hence why five years into a dedicated leftist education, I can still barely understand Marxist arguments around value theory.

It would still be 11 years from my graduation until I learned about my sleep disorder, so the following years would be spent tossing and turning, going to work and class after being up 24 hours, often crashing at hour 40, then sleeping 24 hours straight to make up for massive sleep deprivation. I’d get fired left and right, girlfriends and family members had no idea what to express to me other than their lack of faith that I could ever get my shit together (and I believed as much myself, because what other explanation was there?)

I decided to work online in 2010 as I began 80/81 Records, as well as work part-time in physical space, all just to scrounge up enough money for distro items and record pressings. I started off with some relative success. I was the first in the US to distro Australian titles like Deaf Wish, Woolen Kits, Mad Nanna, Teen Archer, etc (all even before Bruce’s Easter Bilby!). I had a plethora of reissue releases from the Memoire Neuve label, as well that beautiful Les Olivensteins reissue LP. I even sold a sketchy Chosen Few bootleg to True Anon’s own Brace Belden (aka PissPigGrandad). 

By the age of 30, my body started to fall apart.Within a few years, despite a few solid releases on 80/81, I had to give up on a slew of planned record releases and call it quits. All were thankfully rescued by a couple of friendly labels, with masters sent off to a few others. These were: Mosquito Ego’s “Plomb” LP (thanks @ever-never-records), Pustostany’s “2012″ LP (shout out to the great Sweet Rot), Shovels S/T (thanks to Homeless Records), and Expert Alterations 12″ (Slumberland), and the Virvon Vavron EP, later taken care of by Girlsville Records. There was also the Human Hair "My Life As A Beast And Lowly Form” LP, which came in lieu of a 7″ I had planned for them (still streamable on the 80/81 Bandcamp). Sorry to all these fantastic bands! There was no label in the last decade better at not releasing records!

Nearly as long as I’ve been using this tumblr, I’ve been disabled. However, I didn’t realize I was *officially* disabled per the US government until last year, nor did I know that my condition was an incurable neurological disorder. In fact, it’s technicality not a sleep disorder. If earth had the rotational position of Mars, my circadian rhythms would be perfectly in sync. I've never brought it up here, I never wanted it to be a factor in how I presented myself, and I never wanted this to be a personal blog about my plight. But I can't in good conscience hide this aspect of myself any longer, while so many other disabled folks are engaged in fights for all of our rights, including those beyond the disabled community. 

Oh, and the other thing: 

I figured out last month that I am NOT a heterosexual guy. Queer? Omnisexual? How about "not straight”? Why did it take me so long to face up to this? Well, growing up in a poor and violent neighborhood meant that I needed to latch onto anything at a young age in order to keep myself safe. I could under no circumstances continue to endure the abuse that happened when I was very young, that I thought would come back my way if I opted out of a "straight"  “tough” identity. And even with that identity, I felt an inexplicable terror at all times, that seemed like it was seeping through the air, like it was the blood gushing from behind the hotel walls in “The Shining”. In order to avoid the terror, I had to act out in an extreme way so no one would question me. I’d always be the first to tell adults off. I’d always be the one to break into a house. I always be the first to steal, or mouth off to a cop. I did get choked by a cop once, which was also tame compared to the beatings my black and Hispanic friends received. But I also hated fighting, so that style of acting out was mostly a dodge and redirection of attention.

But so many toxic ideas overtook me over the years. While I may not have been outwardly homophobic as an adult, I no doubt policed my own behavior for decades, not allowing myself vulnerability, not allowing myself comfort, robbing myself of joy. And it took me three decades to shake that straight identity loose.

I think this straight identity I adopted though trauma is common for men, even though whose childhoods weren’t as traumatic as mine. That isn't to say that those who adopt it are closeted, but the ideology driving performative straight male expression can cut off naturally heterosexual men from understanding themselves and what it is that they most desire, who they want to connect with, what makes them complete. Heterosexuality as ideology is a giant fucking scam. You get nothing out of it, maybe an early death from a heart attack.

But I’m also happier now than I’ve ever been. When I gave up the straight identity, I completely gave up fear, and in ways far beyond matters of sexuality. That straight identity also policed how I though of women, and since I’ve been free of it, my relation to women has changed significantly. 

And now

I’m fighting month after month to get on disability and food stamps (I’ve been denied for disability seven times in eight years, and food stamps were just cut in RI). When all is sorted I’m going to join radical orgs in Providence. From here to there and beyond, it’s class struggle.

Had our welfare state not been decimated, or had we decommodified health care and housing, I would have never had to jump through so many hoops for ultimately no help. When I lacked diagnosis, I could have lived with dignity while I waited for an explanation of my issues, if only the society had a non-bureaucratic solution to personal crisis. I’m a “lumpen” of a sort, but I’m also now a committed small-c communist and queer. Sorry apolitical people, but the fight will be intense for the remainder of all our lives.

[human-trash-fire]

Beautiful Disaster: Chapter 3

Alright my loves! The following is the chapter I’m most proud of producing so far in all of my writing. I’m not saying it’s good, only that I’m proud of it lol.

I created a playlist, aka “THE EMFS” from this fic, you can find it HERE if you want to give it a listen. As usual, you can find this mess on Ao3 @glam_reaper2 <3 

For Ronan Lynch the following days that week were a blur. Anger, loathing, and cravings in equal measure, hammering his mind and body like waves upon the shore. He was restless, more so than normal, as if the hours of drug induced sleep he had in hospital were all he was allotted. His insomnia was a creature, angered by his reprieve and back with a vengeance.

The only freedom from the endless nights living in fog, was music. Though Ronan would never share this fact with anyone -being known for his raucous electronic tastes- but he had a fondness for music of all genres. Declan had apparently convinced the illustrious Dr. Allen to allow him use of an old ipod loaded with his entire music library, and Airpods (because headphones were banned) to aid in “healing.” Loath as he was to admit it, he was grateful.

The brothers Lynch were raised in lyrics. Songs for sleep, for tradition, for quiet nights in, for time alone, for long drives and heartbreak. Aurora and Niall had a mix-CD (and later a playlist) for every hour of the day, it seemed. It was a habit bred into the boys, and though they never spoke of it, Ronan knew it was something they all still did. And so Declan had fought for him. Ronan was given the Ipod, charger, and Airpods on the morning of his fifth day, during his one-on-one session with Dr. Allen. They came in a small black box, with a letter attached.

Ronan,

I know that, as I write this, my words will more than likely fall upon deaf ears. Shatter on the rocks of our hostility and history, and yet… I hope. I hope that, with time you can come to understand a profound truth I have long since come to terms with, in relation to us. We two, know what it is to love a Lynch. The difficulty and pain our family brings to those around us under the guise of caring. We have also had the privilege to see the beauty in that specific brand of love. Mathew may be the best of us, a point not even you will argue, but you Ronan…

You’re the soul of this family.

From the day I first saw you, small and wild in Mom’s arms, I knew that you would change everything. I had never seen so much spirit, so much life. You came into the world with purpose, and it blew me away.

We used to be inseparable, do you remember? Your laugh is the soundtrack to my greatest childhood memories, your smile the image that gives me strength to make a daring choice. I know, I know, me? Daring? You’re rolling your eyes right now, and that’s okay. My brand of daring has long since veered from your particular brand of stupid, but I swear to you that in my own way, I do still hold onto that. Your sharp smile in moments when I’m scared. So I thank you for that. I’m so sorry, Ronan. I’ve never been able to balance properly on the knifes-edge that is my life after our parents. I wish to try and explain my actions, and then maybe you can have some understanding as you begin to heal. I knew that you needed freedom to grieve, Matthew needed to be held, but you needed to run wild. I tried to be okay with that, but I failed because I was scared. You see, my greatest fear has always been losing one of you. Matthew stayed close-by, still so young, we all were, but he was still naive and so for him I needed to be a father. It seemed easier at the time to just take that approach universally, and the more it backfired, the more I pushed. I didn’t know how to grieve myself.

My relationship with Dad was complicated at times, and when he was gone, it was like he took the air from the world. He stole you too. That’s how I felt. My heart, Matthew was broken. But my soul? He was just gone. I thought that structure would help, because I need to control things to feel okay. I needed you with me because I was scarcely able to breath. I realized too late that I was smothering you, and by that time the damage was done. I wish I could go back and give you what you needed. I was selfish with you, and I’m sorry.

I’m aware of where you currently are, and what I had to do to get you here, and therefore how this whole letter might seem like bullshit. Hell, you may not even read a single line, but I needed to do this. Ronan, I’m not going to fill this with platitudes about how you could do so much, you’ve heard my opinions on the matter. But I’ve realized there is something I’ve never told you in regards to my opinions on your life: I’m fucking proud of you. This situation we are currently in may be my nightmare; literally. I’ve had this nightmare, what almost happened, almost every night (that I could actually sleep) since Dad. But, that’s not what I’m talking about now.

You, Ronan. Your art. You’re incredible you know? I don’t think I’ve ever truly talked to you about this, and for that I take full responsibility. It’s come to my attention that you’ve always believed I thought you were wasting money and time on a degree that I “wouldn’t approve of.” And maybe, you even did it partially for spite. Which makes me laugh because, and here’s a secret: I always dreamed you would.

I see you, in every piece you create. Not just the ones you’ve chosen to share with me either. Yes, I will admit that I’ve snuck peeks at the art you hide in that closet at Monmouth. Fun fact, I am extremely useful with a lock pick. I’m not apologizing for that.

Everything you create is like air back in my lungs. It’s my soul on a canvas, the words I can’t seem to find for fear of drawing attention. And I’ve never seen them in color. I pray for that, did you know? At mass, I always take a moment to pray for my soulmate. Not because I want that connection, well not only. But because there is nothing I wouldn’t give in this world to see you create in all the colors I’ve only read of.

You have that chance now. Here, while you heal. Here while you find yourself again, you have that chance. We will find him Ronan. We will. I will tear D.C. down until I do. I’ll do that for you, but promise me you’ll try too.

I have arranged for not only access to this Ipod (I did push for a phone, but apparently that’s something even our money can’t buy from Allen) but for access to whatever materials you will need to be delivered to your room. The first delivery will arrive as soon as you provide Dr. Allen with a list of what you’d like. I can bring it personally, though I’ll understand if you’re not ready for that. But promise me you’ll create.

I love you. I know it’s not really something we say. It may not even be something you wish to hear now, or ever. And that’s fair. However, while I have the nerve now, I’m saying it. I love you, little brother. Always.

Declan.

P.S. In keeping with Mom and Dad’s “official letter writing tradition” here’s a song for you.

Outnumbered- Dermot Kennedy. (I’ve already added it to the library.)

The letter was an intimate and bottomless kindness from a brother he’d forgotten how to love properly. It broke his heart.

Ronan drew a shaking breath, and clamped his eyes together, willing tears away. He would not cry in front of Dr. Allen. He couldn’t. He folded it back up, sliding it underneath the contents of the box carefully and, gathering all the strength he had, made eye contact with the good doctor.

“So…” Dr. Allen began, “I don’t wish to drag out this session. While I don’t know what was written in that letter, I can judge based off of your current body language that you need some time. I respect that, so we’ll end today early.”

Ronan stood immediately, box in hand, he was halfway to the door before he heard Dr. Allen cleared his throat. He turned slowly, muscles taut, glare acidic, and stared down at Allen behind his desk. Dr. Allen stared back, the poster-child for neutrality. It only angered Ronan further, he didn’t have time for this. He was a damn about to burst, if he didn’t get the fuck out of this scholastic-shithole of an office he was going to break something.

“Fuck. What?” he snarled.

“Your homework.”

“Ex-fucking-scuse me?”

“You’re leaving early, which I’ve condoned. But… I have homework for you. This is day 5 Mr. Lynch. We aren’t going to play the silent game for an hour each day and then let you hide away without something to work on. So here it is…”

Ronan seethed.

“I don’t do homework,” he spat.

“You’ll do this. Or I’ll take that.” Dr. Allen motioned halfheartedly towards the box in Ronan’s hands. He reflexively brought it close to his chest.

“Fine.” He growled. He couldn’t lose this. He needed this. He nee-

“A playlist, Mr. Lynch. That’s your homework. I understand your family has something of a tradition? Therefore, I’ve concluded that the first thing I wish for you to work on is a playlist. I will not ask to see which songs you have chosen, only that you make one. I want you to focus on what you feel, stuck here. And create. We’ll discuss more tomorrow. Have a nice day.” And with that, Dr. Allen closed the file in his hands, and turned to his computer. Ronan showed himself out, making sure to slam the office door with all the force he could muster. He winced when the muscles in his wrists strained.

And so, here he was. In the early hours of his 5th night interned in his “suite”, Ronan compiled a playlist. He spent hours searching through his library, pouring every fucking feeling his therapist suggested he confront into the song selections. No one would ever be allowed access to what he was now calling the “Embarrassing- Melancholy- Feelings- Shitfest” or EMFS playlist. He even added Declan’s song. When he finished it, he put his Airpods in, laid down on his bed, closed his eyes, and pressed play.

As Between the Bars by Elliot Smith began, Ronan took his first deep breath in a week and finally allowed himself to cry.

~~

The rest of the first week, and much of the second passed just as the first 5 days had. Sleepless nights (now thankfully filled with music), breakfast, group therapy, “personal reflection”, lunch, one-on-one therapy, 1 hour of freezing your ass off outdoors, dinner, then back to bed. It was… exhausting.

By the end of the first week Ronan’s first supplies were delivered, he’d reluctantly informed Dr. Allen that he didn’t wish to see Declan yet, though avoided telling him why. He wasn’t ready to see that look in his brother’s blue eyes, the one that shattered him in his hospital bed. So he passed along a simple note to be given to Declan when he arrived. An exchange. Ronan received a simple sketch pad, and charcoals (he wasn’t ready to use color). Declan was given a piece of notebook paper with the following printed in Ronan’s signature chicken scratch:

Thank you.

Brother- Kodaline

~~

Ronan would never know what happened when his brother left that day. Declan made his way to his car slowly, the note clenched in his shaking fist. He preferred his feelings in private. As he slid into the driver’s seat, and turned on his car, he pulled up the song Ronan had given him, turned up the volume and closed his eyes. By the time the chorus arrived, Declan’s knuckles were white, hands strangling his steering wheel. Great sobs, a moment of earth-shattering weakness, wracking his body.

If I was dying on my knees,

You would be the one to rescue me,

And if you would drown at sea,

I’d give you my lungs so you could breathe,

I’ve got you brother,

I’ve got you brother,

I’ve got you brother.

In that moment, Declan knew, with a certainty only a Lynch could have, that Ronan would be okay. And so he listened; he cried. And When the song ended, bowed his head, gave thanks to God then put his car in reverse and drove home.

~~

At the end of the second week, Ronan was allowed his first visit from someone who wasn’t a familial relation. He was in his room, EMFS playlist blasting in his ears as he hunched over his latest piece of art - mess of dark lines, shadows, and chaos- When Gansey strolled in. He wasn’t sure how long Gansey had been standing at his door, watching him when he finally looked up, and double-tapped his left Airpod to pause Mr. Rattlebone.

For a moment, they remained silent. Hazel eyes boring into blue. Gansey wore a lilac button down tucked neatly into navy slacks, light-brown leather boots to match his belt and watch poking beneath the hem, and a pea-coat slung neatly over his left arm. In his right he held two gift bags.

“Hey,” Gansey spoke softly, breaking the silence.

“Hey.”

“Would you mind terribly if I-” He motioned to the end of Ronan’s bed.

Ronan cleared his throat, closed his sketch pad, pulled out his Airpods and brought his long legs up to his chest. “No, for sure, yeah, sit.” He sounded like an idiot to his own ears.

“So…” Gansey began after sitting down and turning to face Ronan. “How, are you?” The question wasn’t unexpected but irritated Ronan nevertheless.

“Living the fucking dream, Dick.”

“Ronan,” Gansey sighed. “You’re right. That was a stupid question, I apologize. It’s just… I haven’t spoken to you in weeks, and it’s not something I’m accustomed to. I won’t pretend I haven’t been worried, and while I am genuinely curious how you are I’ll refrain fro-”

“Gans, it’s fine. I’m… sorry, that was…. Rude. I’m handling it. I’m fine. Bored as all shit, but fine.”

“Okay. Good. Wonderful. Spec-”

“Dick”

“Right, right. Sorry.”

“So,” Ronan prodded, needing desperately to get off this currently painful attempt at feelings and small talk. “What’ve you got there Dick? Please say it’s drugs.”

“That’s not at all funny, Ronan.”

“Shit… I’m, yeah you’re right. That was…” Ronan trailed off. He knew that it was probably the wrong thing to say. He’d said it anyways, to gauge where Gansey was with him. Apparently, not there. Got it. He cleared his throat a second time, hands wrapping themselves tighter around his knees. “Well… Then what is it?”

“This first one is from Noah,” Gansey said softly, as he pushed a bright pink gift bag in front of Ronan. He adjusted, bringing his legs into a criss-cross and pulling the obnoxious bag into his lap.

“How… How is he Gans? I never, he wasn’t at the hospital. I haven’t been able to talk to him, and I-” Gansey held up a hand to stop his rambling, then gently brought it down to Ronan’s wrist. Ronan stared at the tan hand gently resting over his angry scar, then brought his eyes up to Gansey.

“He’s handling it. It was, a lot for him Ronan. But, he loves you. That hasn’t changed. He wanted me to tell you that he misses you. And- that he’s sorry.”

“He has nothing t-”

“I know, but he made me promise to tell you anyways.”

“Okay,” Ronan whispered, closing his burning eyes for a moment. He removed his hand from under Gansey’s and reached into the bag. The first item he pulled out was a box. He looked expectantly at Gansey who shook his head slightly, brows drawn together he opened the lid. Inside were two bracelets made of 5 black bands of leather each. Embossed at the clasp of each was a semicolon. The tears he hadn’t wanted to shed in front of Gansey today made their way slowly down his face.

“Let me…” Gansey whispered, and removed the first bracelet. Ronan shook as Gansey slowly slid the sleeve of his hoodie up his forearm, then gently brought the bracelet around his wrist. He repeated the motion with the second, then leaned forward to brush a stray tear off of Ronan’s chin.

“Thank you,” he rasped. Gansey nodded. Ronan, reached back into the pink bag and from it pulled an old copy of The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky. He knew this copy intimately, it was Noah’s favorite book and could always be found resting on his nightstand, or in his hands on a bad day. He opened the book with a reverence he usually reserved for the bible, and inside found an inscription:

“This moment will just be another story someday.” -Stephen Chbosky

Never forget that you are loved.

You are wanted.

You are needed.

-Noah

Ronan closed the book and moved it to his nightstand. He took a deep steadying breath, and nodded.

Gansey asked, “Okay?”

“Okay,” he replied.

Gansey moved the second bag onto his lap. This one, a tasteful charcoal grey with blue tissue paper. The bag itself was larger and heavier than the first, and his confusion must have been evident when Gansey spoke again, “Oh, just open it would you?” Ronan snorted, the first smile he’d felt on his face in weeks, making an appearance.

“Fuck okay, sorry.” He ripped the tissues from the bag with the enthusiasm of a 4 year old high on confectioners sugar, and Christmas cheer. The blue sheets flying around his bed, one even landing on Gansey’s head before sliding off on an imperceptible wind.

“Gans….” He whispered, slowly sliding the first gift from the bag. It was a black leather-bound sketchbook. Larger than the one he had requested from Declan, the paper, a higher quality than he had used in a long time. “I can’t-”

“You can, and you will. So shut up and open it.”

The front cover of the book had an embossed raven in the center. The side folded over the top and tied off with a small leather eyelet, which he unhooked and slowly opened the masterpiece in his lap. On the inside of the front cover was a second embossing, this one read:

Excelsior

R.N.L

He shook his head, and found Gansey’s eyes. “Onward and upward.”

“Onward and upward,” Gansey nodded. “There is more, but before you open it, let me say this. You’ve been given a gift. I know it doesn’t feel like that, but for someone with talent like yours, you… more than anyone I know, deserved color. I know that you asked Dec for charcoal, I’m assuming it’s because you weren’t ready-” Ronan was reaching into the bag again as he spoke, pulling out a cherrywood box, and shaking his head.

“- but I think maybe you could be. If not now, then soon. Regardless,” he gestured for Ronan to open the box, “I wanted to bring you a rainbow.” The latch was simple and as Ronan lifted the lid he was met with rows and rows of colored pastels. Every color he’d read about and tenfold more he’d never seen.

He choked on a sob, “Gans… Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now, I do hope you use these soon because this room is awfully boring.”

“You’re fucking telling me,” Ronan quipped, smiling though his damn eyes wouldn’t stop their relentless downpour. It was fucking embarrassing, and yet, beautiful. A world of color at his fingertips.

“They’re all labeled, so you can learn the ones they never taught us. The colors I mean, and if you have a favorite, or run out while you’re here don’t hesitate to tell me. I’ll bring you replacements.”

Ronan reached forward, one arm cradling this box of dreams, the other hand coming to Gansey’s arm. “I’m sorry Gansey, for all of it. I’m so fucking sorry.”

“I know you are, but thank you.”

Ronan and gansey sat in silence for a while, a comfortable camaraderie. And when the nurse came to collect Gansey at the end of the hour, the two men, close as brothers, hugged in the middle of the room. They held on, like the other was the foundation upon which their world was built, and stayed that way until the nurse cleared her throat.

“Oh fuck off,” Ronan growled.

“Ronan!” Gansey chided, “I’m so sorry ma’am, I will of course hurry along, if you wouldn’t mind pointing me in the proper direction?” Ronan rolled his eyes, the senator’s son making an appearance yet again. As he made his way back to his bed, Gansey stopped at the door.

“I’ve been told that you’re allowed visits on Mondays and fridays. I assure you I’ll be here for each and every one.”

“You don’t have t-”

“I’ll see you Monday.” Gansey punctuated his statement with two sharp knocks against the door frame, and a dip of his head; then disappeared around the corner and Ronan was left alone once more.

“Excelsior.” He whispered to no one, and picked up his sketchbook.

[dolphin-enthusiast]

Matchup? Thanks. I'm a short, straight, cis, white, female from America. I'm a lil bit chunky, well, half of it's chub and the other half is muscle. I enjoy going to the gym and working out, it's pretty great. I started going to lose weight because I used to be obese but I decided to make the change I wanted to see in myself. Yeah, I lost 60 pounds. I'm pretty proud of myself. I'm very confident in myself and show myself a lot of self care because I used to have a lot of self-esteem issues. 🐉

"But now I'm proud of the young woman I've become. I'm 23 and a half and in college. I'm trying to become a clinical psychologist. When I was a kid I wanted to be a psychologist because I have (and have had) ADHD, depression, anxiety, and chronic insomnia. I work at Starbucks, my favorite thing is drawing things on customer's cups, they think it's really cool. I enjoy art, but I still love psychology the most. It's my favorite thing. Most days, I'm a generally nice person. 🐉

I'm laid back and willing to go with the flow. Other days I'm a McGremlin with Mean Hoe Fries on the side. When I don't get along with people, I tend to try to ignore them, but my fuse is shorter than I am. And I am really short. I get aggressive and it is NOT a pleasant sight. When I was in middle school I slapped a kid and told him to tell his mother she was a beautiful woman because he was telling me and a few of our shared friends (he was an acquaintance, my beat friend was his friend) 🐉

how he called his mom a bitch and I slapped him and told him to apologize. I've always respected people who earned it. Even then, I still respect people's lives, but there are some people that only get the bare minimum of my respect. Those tough single moms have all of my respect tho... Another thing about me is that I prefer having male friends than female friends. Why? Some girls like to cause drama. I have a lot of guy friends because I have a really Tom-boyish personality. I love running. 🐉

I do it a lot. I did track in highschool and I still enjoy watching it on the Olympics. I also enjoy martial arts, karate, judo, jujitsu, taekwondo, boxing, and kung fu. I do all of those please help I have a martial arts addiction. I am obsessed about learning. It's amazing. I enjoy learning about new cultures and trying new things. I love books too. I'm currently reading a really good detective one at the moment. I also love the TV show Sherlock, with Benedict Cumberbatch. 🐉

I always try to be the best human I can be??? I'm very bold. Oh! I'm an ENTP Gemini, but did you know, some scientists believe that the MBTI test might be faulty- 🅱️lz don't listen to me I'm annoying. Anyway, my friends describe me as: laid back but energetic at the same time, smart but also lacking in common sense, reckless, brave, caring, hardworking and ready to fight for the people I care about. I guess I would say I'm like that. 🐉

I describe myself as: ambiverted, fun-loving, and indecisive. In a partner, I look for someone who can make me smile, someone who will have my back while I have his. Ya know? Mutual trust and communication, any kind, is valued in a relationship to me. Whether it's sign language, talking, or leaving notes, I need communication to know what he wants. My favorite animals are cats. My favorite color is red. My favorite shows are JoJo and Sherlock. My favorite book is probably the Lord of the Rings.

My favorite band/singer are Lord Huron and Hozier. My favorite character in Sherlock is the man himself because of how blunt and straightforward he is. My favorite JoJo character is Iggy, not because I am a dog person I am a cat person, but because he has an attitude and when I'm grumpy I understand hating everyone. I like rainy weather, but only when I'm inside. I enjoy children, but I will decimate brats with my viper tongue if needed. 🐉 (last time I forgot the dragon!)

My favorite foods are fried chicken and chicken fried steak. Who do you match me with Father Morgyorgy? Pt. 1, 2, or 3 plz."

I match you with...

JOSEPH!

Where do I even begin...your vibes and overall energy instantly attracted him to you. The fact that you're so fun loving and have a strong sense of justice made him be absolutely smitten. He l o v e s energetic people that aren't afraid to stand their ground and that also stand up for others when needed. The fact that you're willing to kill for those that are close to you is something that he can also relate to. When you told him about the efforts that you made to lose weight he was extremely proud of you and told you that you're always beautiful no matter what of course. He's only glad that you're now happy with yourself though.

Just like you he is usually a go with the flow person and is normally chill but he also has his more meaner days and a rather short temper (and much like you when he does pop off for real then it's fucking O N.) While he is a very determined and hardworking person he too can be reckless and lack common sense sometimes. As for what you look in a partner don't worry for he will ALWAYS have your back and will never fail at making you smile. Mutual trust is included too since it's like you two have a language of your own and understand eachother at all times.

He really LOVES your tomboyish personality and actually admires the reasons behind you wanting to become a psychologist. The fact that you also practice so many martial arts is pretty damn amazing to him and he'd often be joking around that you could easily yeet him over your shoulder or immobilize him in two moves.

[prorevenge]

You picked on the wrong underdog, guy.

A few years ago, I was working in a job I really enjoyed with a team I really gelled well with. There were about five of us working on the same portfolio of projects in different roles, and every single team member was just cream-of-the-crop, incredibly good at what they do. I can't overemphasize how satisfying it was to work with such an incredibly competent, likable group of people. In this job, instead of getting the Sunday night blues, I would get excited thinking about the work I would be doing the next day and planning how we would solve the complex problems together. It was like a series of logic puzzles. (Yes, I realize I'm a huge nerd. I promise I also had a life outside of work.)

The one downside (there's always a downside) to this job was Steve. Steve was not in the supervisory line for me or any of my team members, but he was about three levels above us and very senior. He'd been there for years and was tight with senior leadership. Steve was also a mega-creep. He said extremely inappropriate things to young women in the office, and he apparently wasn't averse to being handsy, though as far as anyone knew, that was as bad as it had gotten. The women in the office all knew to steer clear of him. My first week on the job, the whisper network made sure I knew: never be alone with Steve. Sexual harassment is difficult to document, and no one wanted to risk their career and put a target on their back going after a big guy like Steve, so he just got away with it for years.

So for a couple of years, I followed this advice. There were a few instances of Steve saying incredibly uncomfortable things to me in passing, but for the most part, I managed to avoid him. Then I found out that my teammate Rob had gotten on Steve's radar. For context, Rob is non-neurotypical and has some minor tic-ish behavior. He's also shy and easily spirals into social anxiety when put in uncomfortable situations.

So one evening at our team's informal weekly happy hour after work, Rob lets it slip that Steve's been giving him a hard time. The rest of us are like, "whoa, wait, what?" because Steve never interacts with staff at our level, except to creep on women, and we basically make Rob tell us everything.

Basically for the last few weeks, Steve has been bullying Rob, making fun of his tics, and mimicking his way of speaking back to him. He's also been asking Rob how he can possibly be competent to do his job and implying he's a pity hire. Once he called him a "retard." It's clear Steve is seeking out Rob for this, because, again, there's really no reason for him to interact with our team. Rob has been having horrible anxiety over this situation, and has had bad insomnia and stomach issues since Steve started targeting him. And not that it bears repeating, but just to reiterate, Rob is a fucking beast at his job. And a genuinely good guy.

At this point, I'm seeing red. (We all were.) We tell Rob to go to HR, that his neurological issues put him in a protected ADA class, that he could get Steve in big trouble. Rob panics and says he can't do that, begs us not to tell anyone at work, and says he wishes he hadn't said anything. We assure him we won't say anything if that's what he wants, but we're all very distressed.

I leave the bar fuming just thinking, OK, that's it. Fuck you, Steve. You're going down.

I can't tell anyone about what's happening to Rob, because I promised him as much, so I start my own paper trail. I start baiting Steve. And I don't mean I behave in any suggestive manner or lead him on: I just stop avoiding him, and I even initiate contact myself.

I IM him through the company's IM system very professionally/politely asking if a big client will be staying on through the next project cycle, and the floodgates open. He starts sending me outrageously sexual IMs. I mostly don't respond, but I occasionally keep him going by sending extremely literal responses to his innuendo-laden questions or pretending not to understand something suggestive he's saying. Sometimes when he clarifies, I'll outright say, "This isn't appropriate" or "this is making me uncomfortable," or "please don't say things like that, Steve," but he steamrolls right over me. During this time, I've also been seeing him more in person around the office, and he often says gross stuff to me in person as well, a lot of it not just inappropriate, but bizarre and nonsensical ("Is it legal to have an ass like that in that skirt?" Lolwut?) Every time this happens, I immediately go back to my desk and write down what he said, the date and time, and the names of any witnesses.

After about a month and change of this, I compile my creep journal with printouts of the IM conversations and take them to my HR rep. I ask to file a sexual harassment complaint against Steve. As soon as the words "sexual harassment" leave my mouth, my rep instantly gets the head of HR and two other reps, and they go through my evidence with me, and ask me a ton of questions. The head of HR assures me they'll take my complaints very seriously, and asks if I know of any women around the office who have had similar issues with Steve. I'm able to give them several names.

They send me on my way, and two weeks later, my rep formally reaches out to me and lets me know Steve has been let go. Much jubilation is had around the office!

It took a couple of months for me to piece together the whole story, but basically after my complaint, HR started following up with the names I gave them, both the witnesses to my in-person encounters with Steve, and the other women he'd harassed. They corroborated what I'd told HR, and then through them, word started spreading around the office that HR was conducting a sexual harassment investigation against Steve. This emboldened at least 15 different women who'd been biting their tongues about Steve for ages to come forward and tell their own Steve stories. The worst story was from a junior staff member who Steve had sexually assaulted at a company party the year prior. :-(

During all of this, IT had been asked to go through Steve's emails and IMs, and this had not only been used to validate my print outs as legitimate, but IT had found a ton of additional incriminating stuff in Steve's correspondences.

Somewhat frustrating: Steve received an extremely generous severance package as part of his termination. But on the bright side, word got around the industry quickly, and Steve was poison at that point. No company would touch him with a 10-foot pole. The last time I thought to snoop on his public social media pages, he was listing himself as an "independent consultant" in our industry, which I seriously doubt he's actually doing, and based on his public Facebook page, he's doing a couple of MLMs, so that should kill off whatever savings he has in short order.

I don't work with Rob anymore, but I did recently attend his wedding! He's extremely happy with his new wife (who is a sweet and lovely woman) and he's doing really well in his career.

TL;DR: Powerful corporate suit picks on my awesome coworker. I transform into a goddess of fury and end his career by exposing him for what he is.

(source) (story by Quixxlez)