#that’s just how everyone works. trust me i took one psych class in high school

[apollos-boyfriend]

it might be an adhd thing (i’m certainly not an expert) but i’ve never heard of that as an adhd thing?? the not being able to like. listen in on the other conversations in particular is kind of. potentially a sign of something else? idk i would do some research though

[katytheinspiredworkaholic]

Correspondence, Chapter 02

Pairing: HotchReid

Summary:  An AU where Reid never joined the FBI, but got roped into consulting for the LA field office while working and teaching at Caltech. Hotch gets his email referred from a fellow agent, and they start to work on cases together -- until they start talking on a regular basis. Regular becomes frequent, frequent becomes constant. They know nothing about each other, but they don't really mind.

Rating: Mature/Explicit (eventually)

Chapter CW/notes: Vague mentions of PTSD, spoilers for the Foyet storyline/mentioned character death. Little angsty, maybe a little OOC since Reid and Hotch don’t actually have a boss/subordinate work relationship in this story and I’m adapting that whole-heartedly. But other than that, it’s just grown men acting like dorks and Reid attempting to give parenting advice. Set in season 6, self beta’d.

Word Count: 4535

Masterpost Link

Ao3 Link 

--

Chapter 02

--

May 2010

-

Hotch does, indeed, take Dr. Reid up on his offer.

They work on a few more cases together, over the course of six to eight weeks, and each time Dr. Reid proves to be an invaluable asset. His knowledge is unsurpassed, extensive, and astounds Hotch every time he opens a correspondence email from the esteemed professor. 

Have you ever thought about being an FBI agent? He teases one night, when they’d been sending theories back and forth in emails that had become less and less formal. Dr. Reid still sent dissertation-length assessments of the cases when they landed in his niche (which was often), but their replies had turned to a messaging template instead of the business-like format Hotch is used to writing all day every day. Quick, rapid-fire messages replacing the professional grade layout that felt so impersonal, with titles and headers and enough filler to give him chronic headaches.

This was much better. Informal as it was.

I’m fairly certain I wouldn’t pass the physical exams, but thanks for the compliment. Another life, maybe. Dr. Reid answers, and Hotch finds himself smiling and huffing a laugh behind closed lips, the kind that stays caught up in his chest. He’s not sure how much older the professor is, for all he knew he could be bordering on retirement, but it was an amusing thought nonetheless.

 I would get them waved, or curve the scores. I have that kind of pull around here. Never would he speak with his agents or anyone at the Quantico office like this, and it had taken weeks and dozens of emails to get to this point. But the freedom of it was nice, enchanting, like a little taste of his life outside of the office. Just confined to the response box of his email. Despite what everyone (ie: Morgan, Prentiss, Garcia) said about him, he did have a sense of humor. He just also had a sense of propriety, and he was their boss. He wasn’t going to make light with them in the place where they catch murderers.

Don’t tempt me. I have tenure. But Virginia gets so cold, I’d freeze to death half the year. 

Didn’t you attend MIT? What did you do during winter?

Froze to death. Pay attention.

Hotch outright laughs, and then snaps his mouth shut and looks out the open blinds of his office. Everyone has gone home, for the most part, but he doesn’t need JJ or someone else hearing him and coming to check on him. He hasn’t been getting much work done since Dr. Reid started replying to his emails that evening, and the little half smirk on his face is something he doesn’t think he can school as he rereads their conversation over and over. 

Apologies. Next I’m sure you’ll tell me how you had to walk to class uphill both ways in the snow.

No, I took the bus. And Froze. To. Death. I live in sweaters, and I’m from Las Vegas, I’m not meant for the cold. 

Las Vegas? Really?

Born and raised. My mother still lives there. 

Hotch’s eyebrows raise at that, apparently he’s not so old that his mother is still around. His own parents are gone, have been for years, but that’s under different circumstances and really not a situation he likes to reflect on.

Must be nice, only being a few hours from home. Do you go back often?

As little as possible. I should really visit my mother more, but that’s hard for reasons I won’t get into. I do write her, though. A letter every day, although not much happens around here for her to get invested in.

As in a real letter? Not an email, or a phone call?

She doesn’t do well with phone calls, or computers. Letters are more personal, anyway, and she likes being able to have the paper in her hands in my own handwriting. It’s the least I can do, not going home unless I absolutely have to. 

This is the most the man has ever spoken about himself, in a personal manner instead of an academic one, and Hotch isn’t quite sure how to take the evolution. It feels like a shift in their dynamic, an opening that could lead to a deeper level of friendship and -- it’s been a while since he’s had that. Allowed himself to have that. After Foyet, and even before when Haley started pushing for divorce and Hotch responded by isolating himself as much as he could to keep his work unaffected, he’d had trust issues. Hotch is man enough to admit that. 

But speaking with an old professor on the other side of the country might just be the stepping stone he needs. Who knows, maybe they’d even get the chance to meet one day.

I just grimaced at my own triteness. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to give you such a maudlin review of my life story.

No, that’s okay. I don’t talk much about myself, so I wasn’t sure how to respond. Work and home are kept very separate for me. It’s an unhealthy coping mechanism, I know, but it works as best as it can.

In your line of work, I can only imagine. You do what you have to. 

Hotch pauses in their conversation, looks at the clock and the stack of paperwork he still hasn’t finished -- too busy lost in his talk with Dr. Reid -- and feels an itching in the back of his mind he wants so desperately to scratch at. To give into. Lists of things he knows he should talk about, but doesn’t trust anyone enough to do so. Hotch really isn’t sure he can even trust Dr. Reid with them.

At least, not yet.

Thank you. And thank you for entertaining me, as well. 

Anytime.

--

It’s not a month later that Hotch is sitting at his desk, after hours, once again. Head in his hands and his phone still warm, overworked from the hour-long phone call he’d just endured with his ex-sister-in-law, Jessica. 

Jack was being bullied in school. She’d had to attend the parent-teacher conference about it instead of him, because he’d been on a case in Florida for over two weeks. Which really just highlighted to Jack’s teacher what his home life is like and she expressed her worry. Adamantly. Jessica was in agreement, and she once again wanted to have the conversation on if Hotch returning to work at the BAU had been the right choice after Haley was killed. He’d taken his sabbatical for 30 days, passed his psych evals -- which didn’t mean much, he helped write the qualification questions -- and Jack was doing well with his therapist and in school.

Or so he’d thought. Until today. 

That ‘conversation’ turned into an argument, because Hotch gets defensive when someone questions his choices in regards to his family, and as much as he knows that she is right -- he feels awful about how it devolved. Jessica has gone above and beyond in taking care of Jack, to allow Hotch to return to work, and she is the last person that deserves the brunt of his frustration. He only has himself to blame, and he doesn’t know what to do. Who to turn to. Who might have answers for him, if there even was a correct answer for his situation. 

The Foyet case is classified. His assigned therapist is so easily played he hasn’t returned to her in months. 

Hotch just wants someone who won’t see through him, even when he pushes back.

He wants to talk to someone who he doesn’t want to push back against.

Who he trusts.

Dr. Reid, I need help with something no one seems to have an answer for, but it’s of a personal matter and not a professional one. Would you mind lending me your services?

Hotch sends the email before he can take it back. It’s late in Virginia, but Dr. Reid is four hours behind him in California and there’s a high chance he might still be in his office. He seems to keep longer hours, for an old professor. 

He won’t admit it to himself, but he feels a tightness in his chest as he awaits an answer. All the paperwork from the Florida case is completed, there’s nothing keeping him there at the office any longer. But it’s too late to go pick up Jack from Jessica’s, and he doesn’t think he would be welcome to come sleep on her couch like he often does on nights like this. When he wants to be there when Jack wakes up, and tonight he longs to do just that. But he isn’t sure he can even look Jessica in the eye right now.

So he sits there, and watches his computer screen, and feels himself distance from the ache in his bones. Knowing if Dr. Reid doesn’t answer him, he would have to spend however long it would take to compartmentalize his apprehension, once again, and go home to his empty house and not think about how he is failing in raising his son. In being a good father. 

The soft ping of his inbox is his single solace in the storm of his thoughts.

Agent Hotchner, You know I’m always happy to help, in any way -- personal or professional -- if I can. What is it you need an answer to?

That tightness releases, but it also gives way to the worry building up in his chest. An overwhelming, crushing amount of it that he didn’t realize was climbing higher and higher the longer he’d been left alone with his thoughts. Drowning in trepidation. Everything he doesn’t want to have pressing on his mind when they are hunting down serial killers, working with criminals that would see it as a weakness and exploit it without batting an eye. 

But this time, Hotch knows this is becoming something he shouldn’t try to hide away. 

Child psychology. Trauma, in particular, and the effects on children after the fact. 

It’s enough to describe what he needs answered, without telling too much of what happened. It’s still hard for Hotch to think about what happened, to fully realize what they had gone through. What had happened to Haley, what had happened to him. What Jack will have to grow up knowing nearly happened to him. What he almost witnessed.

(626)-595-0387 I have unlimited texting, and tend to stay up very late at night. Also, I have a feeling that you might want to keep this off government regulated emails. I’m not a practicing psychiatrist, mind you, but anything I can do to help you I will be more than happy to offer. 

Hotch is stunned. Whatever he expected, that wasn’t it. He’s near speechless, staring at the phone number with a Pasadena area code, and hesitates in moving their correspondence off of the email platform. A drastic change in dynamic and expectations, but… it would be nice, to be able to message the professor whenever he wanted. The ease of access an alluring thought. 

Another soft ping in his inbox has him looking up from where he’d been glancing at his cell phone in contemplation.

Also, it goes without saying, but everything we talk about in our conversations would still be confidential. I have no one to tell them to, anyway. 

Hotch huffs out a sound that could have been a laugh, and he’s surprised he even can manage that. But he’s barely thinking about it before he’s picking up his cell phone and typing in the number Dr. Reid had given him. []6/3, 22:46[] This is Agent Hotchner.

He sends it, pauses in thought, then keeps typing.

[]6/3, 22:47[] You can call me Hotch, since this is outside work. Agent Hotchner just reminds me I’m abusing bureau resources for personal gain.

The whole interaction is causing this clawing, hot feeling in his chest that might be nervousness in risking the change in their work relationship, or residual guilt from the fight with Jessica about Jack, or just… the fear that Dr. Reid will tell him he is fucking this up and he should never have returned to the FBI at all. Because there are days, like today, where Hotch really starts to think that might be the case.

[]6/3, 22:49[] I figured as much. No one else actually messages me after 6pm except you and some of my more zealous students. 

[]6/3, 22:51[] And although I don’t think you’re abusing anything; in that same vein, you can call me Spencer. This is just two friends having a chat, nothing more. 

Hotch appreciates the gesture, finds himself almost smiling about it -- but then he remembers what he has to relay to ask what he wants to ask the other man. And he isn’t sure where to begin. 

So he just -- begins at the start. The case where Foyet fooled his whole team, posing as a victim, and managing to get away. Slipped through their fingers. Gotten away with murder and insider FBI information and more than he should have ever been able to access. Dr. Reid -- Spencer, please -- doesn’t say anything as he relates all of this, and Hotch commends his patience. Because from the start, this isn’t about child psychology at all. But it is certainly about trauma, and that becomes apparent when Hotch throws caution to the wind and describes what happened to him in his own apartment. Paraphrasing and dropping out intimate details, but explaining what happened is still brutal even stripped to its bare minimum. When Foyet had broken in, and blitzed him, and tortured him as he stabbed him nine times in the chest. Precise, practiced, indicative of letting him live with the knowledge of what that monster masquerading as a man could do. 

The details begin to bleed through the more he types. The more he remembers.

How he’d had to put his ex-wife and son into protective custody. How it hadn’t been enough. His late night obsessions all for naught. And finally, a brief -- or as brief as it can possibly be, for as brutal an event as it was -- summary of what happened when Foyet had found his family. How he had killed Haley, how they had stopped Foyet and Jack had been spared witnessing anything. Even the fight inside Hotch’s own house. He doesn’t… well, Hotch doesn’t plan on describing that and keeps it at bay. He barely remembers it. Blurs of fists and broken furniture and rooms he has memorized from years of memories flying by as they tore through his home like a hurricane. 

But he gives enough of a picture. Enough that, though he doesn’t say as much, Spencer probably knows Foyet didn’t make it out alive. Can guess it was by Hotch’s own hands. 

Which leads them to now -- to the part Hotch needed help with more than anything. His past and his trauma Hotch has a lot of practice dealing with, knows how to handle it alone. As he always has. But the part he doesn’t know how to handle?

He is raising his son on his own. His ex-sister-in-law, Jessica, has been a godsend and is helping with Jack so Hotch can be at work. His lifeblood. His identity. Everything he’s ever worked for. He almost left; Strauss had offered him an early retirement package that was too good to pass up, but he had in the end. Because being an FBI agent, catching the monsters that plague their world, that is what he does. And that’s what Jack knows him to do. 

It helps Jack, Hotch found, to know that his dad is out there catching men like the one that took away his mom. He probably would have taken the loss a lot worse, if Aaron had left the bureau. 

But he’s messing up. Hotch feels that in his bones. He’s gone so much, Jessica is taking on the role of parent instead of Aunt more and more, and Hotch does not want to turn into that father that shows up once in a blue moon and pretends he never left. He’s worried that what Jack’s teacher, and Jessica, had said is true and Jack’s home life isn’t going to be healthy for him. It’s going to make him suffer.

That what Jack has gone through, Hotch doesn’t know how to address correctly. 

It’s near a half hour later that he’s gotten the entire story out, and Hotch realizes that even though text is probably going to be easier to have a conversation like this… he probably could have written it in an email and saved them both some time. He apologizes at the error, because it’s late and his head isn’t quite screwed on straight whenever it comes to matters with his son, and he just… he’s at a loss. Doesn’t know what the right course of action is, or if there even is one outside of a professional’s opinion. 

Then Hotch waits for a reply.

It feels like hours, but in reality is only a couple of minutes. 

[]6/3, 23:22[] Hotch, the fact you are so worried about your son and how your actions have affected him through all of this, is all I really need to know about you being a good father. The consideration you are showing him is not something every parent can do, in the face of what happened to you and your family. You do not need to worry about that. You love your son, and that is the most important factor right now.

[]6/3, 23:25[] Secondly, I’m so sorry that this happened to you at all. You and your son sound like you have such a strong bond, and I know that’s what must have helped you through such a difficult time. It’s apparent that you love him very, very much. 

[]6/3, 23:29[] I don’t have a lot of friends that ask me the hard questions like this. Not that I don’t want them to, I just understand why, because I can recite statistics all day and give you textbook answers easily. Which I know you were hoping would give you a black and white response to your question. But in this there isn’t one, sadly. I know you are worried and I feel like you don’t need to be. And I don’t know how to express that in a way that won’t make you detest me. 

[]6/3, 23:32[] Your son just lost his mom, and you just lost your ex-wife, and there’s not going to be a straightforward path to healing. Everything you say you have done for him? It’s perfect, it’s exactly what you should be doing, and don’t stop. That’s all you can do and all you should focus on, in truth. Listen to what he tells you and watch for what he doesn’t, and hug him, because you are a great dad -- and this is coming from someone who did not have such an example. 

[]6/3, 23:33[] And I am very sorry about Haley, Hotch. I truly am. 

Hotch doesn’t even answer him for a good few minutes. It is a lot to process, to read through, and he does read through it more than once. But every single time he reads that final text, his eyes sting hotly and he has to blink back emotions he thought he had waded through plenty on his 30 days of leave. Apparently, not enough.

It’s so much, and yet he wants more. It’s not enough in the sense that he wishes Dr. Reid -- Spencer -- would keep talking to him. Keep telling him he’s doing a good job. That he hasn’t failed his son. 

That for once, he’s handling something right.

With a breath that feels like it shudders through his chest a little more roughly than it should, Hotch slowly types out a response that doesn’t even begin to feel anything close to adequate.

[]6/3, 23:41[] Thank you, Spencer. I could never detest you, in the slightest. Everyone keeps telling me I’m not screwing this up, but 

He pauses, not sure if he even believes what he’s about to type. 

At the last second, he switches tactics entirely. Feels a flood gate open. Just one, solitary floodgate in the vast Hoover Dam size wall he keeps up from the moment he shrugs into his suit jacket at home until he sheds it all away at the end of the night. In the confines of his home, with six physical locks on the door and two different digital security systems. With a weapon carefully concealed and childproofed in every room. With steel reinforced windows and no exit save for the front and back doors. A fire hazard, but a good precaution against anyone who would try to break in -- like Foyet had. 

[]6/3, 23:41[] ...I find it so hard to believe them. In some ways it’s hard to believe you, too, but that’s not personal. Your words have resonated more than anyone else’s, if that’s any consolation. Even more than the therapist they assigned after everything. 

[]6/3, 23:45[] My sister-in-law flat out told me I was failing my son, being away like I am, and his teacher believes his home environment isn’t healthy. He’s being bullied in school. I don’t know what to do.

Hotch types it all out and sends it. 

The reply is instantaneous.

[]6/3, 23:46[] Yes, you do. You know exactly what to do. 

And then there isn’t any further elaboration.

At first, Hotch is confused. He feels himself being pulled from that precipice of self-loathing and despair. Tugged by a string. The confusion forces him to look at Spencer’s response, nine words long, and decipher what they mean. 

Trusting his first instinct, once more.

[]6/3, 23:49[] I have to talk to Jack. 

[]6/3, 23:54[] You have heard all of this from everyone other than your son. He may be young, but he is going to know the answer better than his teacher or his aunt. Talk to him, before you start nailing yourself to a cross. You may find the answer to the situation a much easier fix than you are anticipating.

Hotch considers this, thinking about his son. Six-years-old now, first grade, smart as a tack, curious and kind. But so strong, a foundation that even he found himself clinging to sometimes, in the face of the storm of everything that had happened to them. Which is not healthy, and Hotch learned to not do that to him. To instead find solidarity in their relationship, withstanding the storm together. As they always have. 

[]6/3, 23:57[] He’s not one to let a bully have his way. He knows that’s not right. Maybe he has another strategy.

[]6/4, 00:01[] He’s young enough that trying to befriend his abuser would be a good tactic to counter the situation, does that seem like something he would do?

[]6/4, 00:02[] That sounds exactly like Jack. Hotch replies, with a smile finally easing on to his face -- and it feels lighter now. Easier to hold.

[]6/4, 00:04[] He sounds like a sweet kid.

[]6/4, 00:05[] He is. I’m very proud of him.

[]6/4, 00:07[] You really are a great dad, Hotch. I’m not just saying it to say it. 

That crushing, overwhelming feeling has ebbed to nearly nothing -- and with a sudden rush of vertigo it is replaced with gratitude for the old professor lending him his evening hours. It flashes warm and sudden and Hotch isn’t used to that, either. 

[]6/4, 00:08[] I would never expect you to, but thank you.

Even he feels lame for thanking the man for saying such a thing.

[]6/4, 00:10[] You don’t need to thank me, I barely did anything.

[]6/4, 00:11[] But if you ever need to talk, about anything really, I’d be more than happy to do so. 

[]6/4, 00:13[] I promise I can be good at that. The listening part. Day or night, it really doesn’t matter. I’ll always be around.

Hotch pauses at the offer, and then types slow and hesitant.

[]6/4, 00:16[] What if I just want to check in on a friend?

[]6/4, 00:16[] I am also around for that. 

The answer is sudden, without hesitation, and Hotch feels a smile start to ease the muscles in his face. Soften the edges once more.

[]6/4, 00:18[] I wouldn’t mind someone to talk to after a long day. It’s been a while since I’ve had a…

He pauses again, not quite sure if he remembers how to do this without pressing in too fast. Committing to too much, not sure what he is able to give of himself. But he’s already shared more with Dr. Reid in two months than he has with David in the past two years. 

Hotch makes a decision, for himself, for the first time in a long time.

[]6/4, 00:18[] ...It’s been a while since I’ve had a friend outside of the bureau. 

[]6/4, 00:19[] Do I still count if I’m a consultant?

[]6/4, 00:19[] You absolutely count. 

His own message makes him smile, and there’s a beat between messages where he hopes he made the older man smile as well. 

[]6/4, 00:22[] I’m never short on topics of conversation, I warn you. So unless you want a lecture on quantum physics -- how do you feel about chess?

[]6/4, 00:24[] I’m getting the feeling you’ll wipe the floor with me.

[]6/4, 00:25[] Oh, without a doubt. But the desktop app also has a chat feature.

[]6/4, 00:26[] Look at you, all modern and with the times.

[]6/4, 00:28[] My home phone may be a rotary, but even I can’t scoff at the vast reach of online chess. 

[]6/4, 00:28[] So what say you?

Hotch pauses, one final time, and considers the night; the conversation, Spencer’s advice, the way talking about what had happened helped ease the weight of it more than he’d ever anticipated. Then he thinks of the source, of what started it all, and how -- once again -- Dr. Reid was right about a number of things. But one thing in particular. 

[]6/4, 00:32[] I’m going to take your advice and go to my son. But tomorrow night, after he’s in bed, I have many hours to myself.

[]6/4, 00:35[] By no coincidence whatsoever, my evenings are always free. Care to show off those FBI honed deduction skills? My best chess opponents have ironically been FBI agents.

[]6/4, 00:36[] Oh, I’m terrible. Trust me.

[]6/4, 00:37[] I promise I don’t care. Your company is worth however many short games we can endure. 

Hotch smiles, despite himself, and this time doesn’t try to hold it back.

[]6/4, 00:39[] Then, it’s a date.

-

(tbc...)

-

Tagged list: @spencehotchner @ssa-sarahsunshine @gothamapologist @reidology @marsjareau @dragon-snaps-fandom​ @emmyraebird @just-an-emo-rat​​​ @aaron-hotchner187 @dk18077 @more-heid-pls @fakin-it-til-i-make-it @merpancake

[fictionplumis]

Fuck it, I’m writing more headcanons I have about Aiden and the Cat School witchers because fuck you, that’s why. 

It goes hand-in-hand with this post here where I first talked about how I see the mutagens affecting them, and I still stand by that but I’ve added more to my thoughts and made things a bit more complex. 

To start with, if I relate anything to a mental illness in a wrong way, please correct me. I am not neurotypical, neither is anyone I know, and I’ve taken a few psych classes, but I’m by no means an expert and the last thing I want to do is contribute to damaging stereotypes and spread misinformation. I also want to say that I’m not necessarily saying it’s any mental illness-like thing that makes Cat witchers the way that they are, but more the lack of knowledge/support/treatment/coping methods combined with the typical shit upbringing of a witcher that makes things so difficult for them. 

So there’s not much we actually do know about this school, not concretely anyway, and we’re also not sure how reliable the narrator is per se, because it’s very possible the stuff we do know about them is just rumors. My headcanon is that yes, most Cats are legitimately dangerous. Given that they act as assassins sometimes, I think their school teaches them to prioritize survival and money over all else, whereas I think School of the Wolf teaches their witchers that their duty is to protect. 

I was RPing with someone once who had this brilliant idea of Cats being taught to take contracts for monster nests, and then killing the monsters but leaving the nests so that when they passed through the next year, they would have another contract. In my version of the Cat School, that would absolutely be in line with their philosophy. In a lot of ways, they’re taught that humans are just another type of monster sometimes. They’re good when they’re paying you, but if they start doing the same shit monsters do, what’s the difference? With their heightened emotions, it means they’re capable of really deep empathy and connection to others, but their school teaches them to use that to manipulate people. Find out what motivates them, what words and phrasing you can use to convince an Alderman out of more coin, what emotions you need to appeal to in order to get a free room for the night, stuff like that. 

So let’s take a look at Karadin real quick. If we’re believing that Aiden is who Lambert says he is, then Karadin is obviously lying about why Aiden died. So what else is he lying about? 

Here’s a guy who was taught to survive above all else, to use his emotions and the emotions of others to manipulate them, who is good at gathering information. Him and his rag-tag group of assassins just took out this guy--reason doesn’t matter, it happened--and now they have a renegade Wolf after them. I doubt Lambert keeps quiet, you know? He wants information on what happened to Aiden, he’s going around pounding on doors and taking names, he’s making a scene. Karadin hears about it, we know that because he expected Lambert to show up. So how can he best protect himself? 

Firstly, cut all ties with his crew. Disband them. Become the guy who was into some bad shit but is now trying to clean up his life. Second, find out about the Wolf hunting them. Again, Lambert’s not exactly quiet. At the very least it wouldn’t be hard to find out that Lambert’s bitter about his life being a witcher, that he feels like his humanity was stolen was from. Why he feels that way doesn’t matter, it’s something Karadin can appeal to. Now he can become something that Lambert can sympathize with. Become the witcher that’s trying to leave the Path, start a family, and find his humanity again. You know about being a slaver, assassin, and wealthy merchant on the side, he has bank. So he pays a widowed mother to live with him, provides her and her kids food and shelter and safety, and all she has to do is pretend to be his lover for a little bit. After the heat cools down and he no longer has a Wolf looming over his shoulder, he can go back to his old life. What’s a couple years of laying low to a witcher, right?  Karadin’s mistake is not realizing that Lambert valued Aiden over any half-assed attempt to get his “humanity” back, and that he trusted and knew Aiden well enough to see through the lie. 

Anyway, that right there is the kind of shit the Cat school teaches. 

This, of course, makes Cats very hard to trust. And in turn, it makes Cats very suspicious of everyone else. If they can lie and manipulate like that, what’s stopping everyone else from doing it? It’s always possible. They don’t trust humans because humans have the tendency to be pretty shit (re: the attack on Stygga), they don’t trust the people in their school because all of those people know how to lie and manipulate just as easily as they do, and they don’t trust other schools look down on them. The one school they reluctantly get along with are the Vipers, because Vipers don’t look down on them. The others, especially the Wolves up in their mountain home? Oh, they’re up on their high horse, believing their way is the only moral way, banning anyone who doesn’t agree with them from the only safe place witchers have left, so fuck them. 

Then you pair this with the emotional instability. They have a hard time keeping their feelings consistent, which means they have a hard time keeping their opinions consistent. So maybe they set up camp somewhere they feel safe and an hour later they’re on edge and uncomfortable, and they can’t imagine how they ever felt safe there, and did they even feel safe there? They can remember they did, but they can’t emotionally connect to that memory now, maybe what they remember was back when they felt safe in a very similar camp, and not this one, they just mistook that memory to be this one. Or they take a contract and they decide, yeah, that’s a fair amount for this, this will be easy, even fun!. And then they do the contract and halfway through they’re like no, this is not fun, how the fuck did I think this would be fun, of course it’s not fun, and by the time they get to collect they’re reward, they’re demanding more but that was not worth the price they originally agreed on, I would never agree to do that for such a low amount. 

So essentially, the emotionally instability makes it very easy for them to gaslight themselves. 

Can’t trust others. Can’t trust themselves. Can’t trust their memories, or their feelings, or the decisions they make because they never know when all those things might change. 

Now let’s throw in paranoia, because the lack of trust is definitely a breeding ground for paranoia. It doesn’t help that people already whisper about and spit at witchers that pass by, but for a Cat on edge, everyone is doing that. That person laughing? Laughing at them. Those people talking? Plotting against them. Make eye contact with someone? What do they want? Is that a weapon? Are they planning something? 

And that right there is why so many Cats snap and go insane. It’s not just them lashing out because their emotions got the best of them, that’s would actually be a very small issue compared to this. This is why the rumor is a Cat that’s gone “feral” as to be killed. They work themselves into psychosis and even if you calm them down from the one instance, it’s nearly impossible to fix the way they now view the world. 

So enter Aiden. 

My headcanon is that he started out like any other Cat from his school. He did a lot of fucked up things because that’s what he was taught and he didn’t realize there was really anything wrong with it. He had no reason to question it, no reason to think his elders had taught him wrong, no reason to focus on anything but making money and staying alive. And then that changed. 

Why that changed is flexible, it could be anything, from something small that his ever-changing emotions conflated into something important that he fixated on, to something that is legitimately pretty life changing. I firmly believe that this thing doesn’t have anything to do with Lambert, though. This is before Lambert. Because the important part about Aiden being a good man, is that it’s something he decided to do on his own first. Then later, when he meets Lambert, Lambert helps him, helps him a lot, but the stuff that Aiden had already taught himself is the stuff that Lambert still needs to learn too, so they help each other. 

In my headcanon, the thing that sparked this for Aiden was the whole “leave the nest so you can come back next year” thing. He didn’t think much of doing it besides job security of sorts, and there was one town with a nekker problem that he popped through a few years straight to rid them of the nests that kept popping up. The people liked him because he was friendly and he took care of their problem every year. Aiden figured he could milk it until another witcher came along and destroyed the nests completely, but until then, their gratitude earned him a bit more coin than a monster nest usually would. And there was the carpenter’s son, who really liked him. Just a this spunky little kid who wasn’t afraid of a witcher, and who babbled to Aiden about being just like his dad when he got older, and who carved Aiden a little wooden sword one year as a thank you. And then Aiden came back through one year and the kid was gone. One of the first victims of the hatched nekkers that year. 

All at once it hit Aiden that his actions and nonactions had consequences. He had no kid babbling at him. The carpenter gave him a smile and a nod, but there was an emptiness to it. He had a mother sobbing into her hands thanking him for getting rid of the monsters that killed her son, unaware that it was his fault for leaving the nest in the first place. 

That gets Aiden to not only look at his own actions, but the actions of his school. At what motivates his brothers and sisters. How accountable they are for their actions. How aware they are of the damage it sometimes does. Whether or not they even care. And by looking at that, he sees the downward spiral that so many other Cats take, and he uses his high emotional intelligence and empathy to figure out why that happens, because he doesn’t want it to happen to him. So he has these coping mechanisms. Some are for the strong flashes of emotions that spark up and overwhelm him, but others are things for every day maintenance. He journals a lot. Writes down his circumstances, his feelings towards his circumstances, why he feels that way, the things he’s noticing, he writes down as much as he can so that if his feelings change and he has a hard time grasping how he felt differently before, he can go back and read it. It’s physical proof, right there, that his memories aren’t wrong. He did feel that way. Doesn’t now, but he did, and he can trust that he did because it’s right there. Then he can write down how his feelings have changed, and why they changed, and everything he can think of so he has another record of the situation if he needs to reference it. 

It helps a lot, especially when he reads back over everything from months ago. It helps him become more comfortable with just letting himself feel his emotions without getting as frustrated by all the changes, or stressed out at the idea that they will change. Because they always do, and it’s not always bad, he’s been through it before and he’s gotten on pretty well despite it. The fear he’s feeling at that time will change too, the frustration will change, he won’t always feel bad and yes, he’ll eventually stop feeling good but he’ll also always return to feeling good again eventually. 

Lambert helps him find some consistency, because out of everything, Lambert’s the one thing Aiden has never changed his mind about. Even when he’s angry and frustrated at Lambert, he still cares so fucking much. And the Wolf is always worth it. It’s this one point of consistency that Aiden doesn’t really need to function but holy fuck does it help. 

Meanwhile Lambert will start in about something, be keyed up and ranting while Aiden just calmly hums and watches him pace until Lambert tosses up his hands like, “I don’t even know why this pisses me off so much!” 

And Aiden blinks and goes, “Maybe it’s not just this issue that’s pissing you off. Maybe you’re also upset about other things. Does this remind you something similar that upset you, or has anything happened recently that this is adding to?” 

And Lambert doesn’t fucking know. How is he supposed to know what else he might be upset about? Lots of things upset him! And this is just like a million other situations, how is he supposed to know if one of those is similar enough to also be upsetting him right now?  “Well... Have you tried writing it down?”  “Have I tried what now?”  “Writing it down. You know. With a quill, in a book. A record of sorts, if you will. Of times you feel upset. So you can go back and read it to help you figure out what might be contributing to how upset you are currently.” 

The fact that Aiden says it with all the patience of someone talking to a child makes Lambert immediately dismiss the idea until the next time he gets pissed and he’s like fuck it, whatever, I’m buying a damn journal or whatever. And he does. And he writes down what he’s feeling, and is reluctant to admit that it makes him feel a little bit better, so maybe he does it a few more times, and then something else pisses him off and he writes that down too and then decides to flick back to the other pages and what do you fucking know, it’s kind of like that other time he was pissed. Not exactly, but he reads this one little detail that matches with his current situation that just agitates him to even read it and he’s like huh. I guess I really don’t like it when people say that. Yeah, you know what? I absolutely fucking hate it when people say that. The entire situation pisses me off, sure, but I wouldn’t be nearly as pissed if that guy didn’t say what he did!

Anyway. 

I don’t know a good way to end this but yeah there’s more of my thoughts on Aiden and the Cat School. Maybe I’ll write about headcanons regarding how I see school traits matching with the animal the school is based off of, because I see those headcanons often and while I agree with some, I’m picky and I do it differently.

[randomwordprompts]

If It's Magic | Chapter 11

Summary: Let's meet some new characters!

Taglist: @wakandan-flowerz @bakarilennox @yaachtynoboat711 @wakandas-vibranium @brwnsugababe @storibambino @thadelightfulone @reaperdeldrunk

A/N: I'm trying to get back into writing regularly, so feedback is always great.

The sounds of a big band playing old standards was the background music to the idle chatter that floated around the Manhattan ballroom. With various doctors, lawyers, and city officials scattered throughout, one might think that the Lector children stood out like a sore thumb. But, thanks to Hannibal's published studies being known globally they didn't get a second thought for being there in his place. All of that aside, the siblings were on a mission. Francois met up with their information source on the inside, who took them to meet the mark in question.

"Dr. Black, there are some people that would like to meet you."

Pausing the conversation with his wife, he turned to face the group with a smile that was so practiced it was believable if you didn't know any better. Jacob Black was a handsome man that had clearly aged well, his salt and pepper hair styled to perfection.

Dr., this is Francois, Jonathan, and Amira Lector. They’re here on the behalf of their father, Dr. Hannibal Lector?”

“Ah yes, Dr. Lector! I’ve read many of his studies and am a bit of a fan of his work. It’s nice to meet you three. I trust you’re enjoying yourselves?”

Francois spoke to the doctor of how happy they were to be attending in their father’s stead and the usual spiel of small talk that came about at events such as these. As everyone was talking and getting to know each other a bit more they were joined by another person. A young man who looked to be about the same age as Jonathan, slim and blonde with Jacob’s jawline and Mrs. Black’s eyes approached. He smiled at the small group before speaking.

“Hello mother, father. Who are your new friends?”

Before Jacob could introduce them Amira spoke up, her hand extended towards him with a warm smile.

“I’m Amira Lector and these are my siblings, Francois and Jonathan. We’re here on behalf of our father, Dr. Hannibal Lector. You must be Joseph, your parents were just talking about you.”

“All good things, I hope,” he replied as he took her hand and kissed the back of it.

She smirked coyly before going, “Anything bad you can prove wrong...or right.”

Jacob and his wife exchanged a knowing look behind their son’s back, recognizing the blatant flirting he was doing. Before Joseph could go any further Jacob decided to speak once more.

“Son, this is Amira’s first time here. Why don’t you show her around?”

“I’d be more than happy to if that’s what the lady would like.”

Amira stepped closer with their hands still connected.

“The lady would love to. Let’s start with a dance?”

Joseph’s brows rose at her forwardness but happily led her to the dance floor as the band began to play Frank Sinatra’s “Witchcraft”. He pulled her into his arms with ease and a smile that has probably charmed the panties off many of the daughters in that very room, but Amira found herself amused at how open his aura was. She knew he’d be easy to get info from once she got him to drop his “just a nice rich boy” act. With that in mind, she decided to take the direct approach.

“So, I think we’re far enough for your parents not to hear us. I go to the New School and heard there was this guy selling goods that looks a lot like you. What’s up with that?”

Joseph almost stumbled while they danced but caught himself before smiling at her forwardness.

“What’s up with what exactly, doll face? I have friends that go there, but I need to know what kind of goods you think I’m peddling.”

Amira leaned in so that their lips almost touched, her front pressed tightly against his before whispering, “I heard you have access to the best coke, and there’s nothing I wouldn’t give for a taste.”

Joseph audibly swallowed as her scent invaded his nose in the most delicious way, that combined with the softness of her body and voice casting a bit of a spell over him. His body immediately reacted and she noticed, subtly stroking her thigh along his crotch as they danced. Before he lost his mind she pulled away a bit, an innocent smile on her red lips as they continued to dance.

“When you put it that way, I think I just might have something for you. Meet me in the coat check in about 10 minutes and I’ll have something sweet just for you, beautiful.”

As the song ended they parted ways and she returned to her siblings to catch them up. She found them chatting up Dr. Black and some of his colleagues, the thought of how proud Hannibal would be to see his children rubbing elbows with these prestigious people brought a genuine smile to her face as she approached.

“Excuse me, sorry to interrupt you all,” she started before turning to her siblings, “I have some writing to finish for my psych class so I’m gonna grab a drink, freshen up a bit, and my siblings can escort me back to my dorm?”

Francois and Jonathan understood what she meant and let her know they’d have the car brought around. Amira left the group to meet up with Joseph while her siblings continued to converse for a bit longer.

Once at the door of the coat check room she gave two soft knocks to the door and was quickly greeted by the young man, who invited her in with that same charming smile.

"You know, I wouldn't have expected such a beauty to be into this stuff. But how much are you looking to buy?"

Amira shrugged, "We all have our vices, Mr. Black. But I think an eighth is enough to start. How much?"

"Only 100 for an eighth, but I've got other things as well. You ever tried heroin with the coke?"

"You mean speedballing? Heard of it, never tried it."

Joseph grinned with a devilish glint in his eyes, clearly having either tried it or seen its effects before.

"It's pretty damn good from what I've been told. Since I like you, I'll give you some heroin on top for an extra 50 just so you can try it out."

Amira hummed thoughtfully before reaching into her clutch and pulling out 200 dollars without batting an eye, Joseph holding a bag he kept stashed in the room in case he got any high-end "customers". He pulled out the pre-packaged and measured drugs, handing them to her as she handed him the money. She placed the drugs into her purse and thanked him before leaving the coat check room, looking around to make sure no one saw her. A vibration from her phone alerted her to a call from Jonathan.

“Hey, you good?”

“Yeah, I just got the candy. You brought the car around?”

“Yeah, me and Fran are in the car now. We’ll see you in a few.”

“Alright, on my way.”

With that, she slipped down the stairs towards the lobby as Joseph came out of the room behind her, heading back towards the party. Once Amira reached the lobby, she gave the doorman a smile and another to the driver that opened the door of the town car in which her siblings awaited her. As she got comfy and settled, the driver began to take them to their next destination.

“So what did you get?” Francois asked, lighting up a pipe filled with weed.

Amira pulled the drugs from her clutch and handed them to Jonathan, who inspected the packaging carefully.

“Coke and heroin? What the fuck did you do to get him to give you both?”

“He offered it for an extra 50 bucks and wanted me to try a speedball.”

Francois sat up, “What is a damn speedball?”

“It’s when you inject coke and heroin together. Very dangerous since they do the opposite shit to the body, but the high is said to be unreal.”

Jonathan shook his head after hearing her explain it, “Well, either way, he put what's gotta be his burner number on here so I think that part is for you, short stack.”

Amira pulled out her phone and put the number into it, saving it while reading some texts she missed while at the party. During this time they ended up back at the dorms as the car came to a stop. Jonathan sat back and slipped the drugs into his pocket before speaking again.

“Okay, so we’re gonna take these to the lab for some testing to see how pure it really is. We’ll get back to you in like a day or two with the results, you just see what other info you can get from Joey in the meantime.”

Amira nodded, “For sure, I’ll keep y’all updated if I learn anything. I’m sure he’ll be happy to get a call from me, given that he was imagining what was under my dress the whole night.”

“Of course he did, I made the dress.” Francois snorted.

After exchanging a bit more information and some goodnights, the three Lectors parted ways. Amira got out of the car and walked into her building, a smile spreading across her face as she spotted a familiar figure waiting for her in the lobby.

“I see you got my text,” she said.

“Of course, and looking at you now I’m so glad that I did. You look good enough to eat, Mira.”

Xavier walked up to her and looped an arm around her waist, pulling her close and pressing his lips to hers in a slow kiss. Amira slipped her arms over his shoulders and returned the kiss eagerly, pressing herself even tighter against him. When they finally broke the kiss she giggled seeing traces of her lipstick on his lips.

“You look pretty edible yourself, but I’m kinda tired tonight. Let’s go up to my dorm and just chill tonight?”

“I’d love that, mon petit. Want me to order some food from Night Owls while you change?”

Amira grinned, “You know me too well. Make sure you order some drinks too.”

“I know you well enough to know not to order food without drinks. Now let’s go so you can change before I try to wake your fine ass up.”

She snorted out a laugh before turning to lead him towards the elevator, looking forward to spending some time with the towering demon.

[ghostgothgeek]

Blush. Chapter 6

Trick or treat! ;) 

FFN || AO3

Warnings: actual sex ed talk and swearing

-----

She leaned her back against the sink and let out a breath that pushed her bangs out of her face for a moment. Danny had been so close to her. She closed her eyes and could picture his face being so close to hers, his body pressed against her. She sighed contentedly and decided to allow herself a moment of weakness. She imagined what it would be like if they were dating, if they actually were intimate with each other like everyone assumed. She pictured Danny caressing her face and leaving kisses down her neck and along her collarbone. She even tried to imagine Danny wanted her too. He’d have his hands all over her, along the bare part of her torso, no curve left undiscovered. His hands would move to her upper thigh, squeezing momentarily until they moved higher to…

She let out a minuscule moan which echoed slightly in the empty bathroom and startled her. She stood there shocked for a few seconds before groaning. “Stop it stop it stop it!” She turned around and looked at herself in the mirror. “Pull yourself together, you’re better than this.” 

She took a deep breath and psyched herself up once more. “You’re cool. Danny’s just your friend whether you like it or not. This is all fine. It’s just the other kids and Kitty who are working you up like this,” she muttered quietly to herself as she sauntered back over to the classroom.

She opened the door and instantly regretted it as every pair of eyes in the room looked towards her. “Miss Manson, is everything alright?” Mrs. Tetslaff looked up from her desk.

“Y-yeah everything is fine.” Sam felt the more she told herself this, the more it would become true. 

“Fantastic. No more interruptions like that.” The teacher went back to her crossword puzzle as if nothing had happened. Sam walked back to her seat and sat down, eyeing the banana with the condom on it suspiciously. Stupid high school. She pushed it to the corner of her desk where it wouldn’t be staring right in her face. 

“Now that we’ve covered things leading up to sex, like consent, condoms, and birth control, we will briefly go over what qualifies as sex. There are a few different types,” Mallory started up again. 

Paulina turned towards Sam and snickered, “Elliot caught you and Danny having a quickie in the hallway, how scandalous!” She held her phone up and waved it in the air.

“What?!” Sam squeaked. Mrs. Tetsflaff sent her a glare until she sunk in her seat again. “That’s not true, I just ran into him in the hallway!” She hastily whispered once the teacher’s attention was no longer on her. 

“You can’t deny it. Elliot sent me a picture.” 

“Ugh gross. What? But nothing happened! How did you get your phone back anyways? I saw you turn it in earlier.” Sam crossed her arms over her chest. Maybe she could bust Paulina. Not that an A-lister breaking the rules would ever garner attention, or rather detention. Sam groaned internally. That would never work. Plus, Paulina apparently had a compromising picture she could easily use as blackmail. 

“Please,” Paulina stuffed her phone back into her bra, “like I don’t keep one on me at all times. This is my burner phone where Elliott gives me all the gossip.” Sam narrowed her eyes. So that’s what Paulina was doing with her backpack earlier. Secretly texting the jerkface. Paulina and Elliot managed to sneak extra phones in? She wondered if Tucker would be pissed or impressed. Pissed, because he had to turn in all of his devices. Impressed, because Paulina had more than one phone and he would think she had tech-nerd potential. Sam snorted to herself. 

“I’m surprised you still have room in there,” Sam retorted.

“Ladies, please. There are a few more topics we need to cover before lunch.” Mallory interrupted the conversation before Paulina could scold Sam. “Now, as I was saying, there are different types of sex: oral, anal, and vaginal. Whichever option you choose, it is important to use protection and other tools such as lube to both protect you and your partner and to have the best experience. Remember that consent is important! Please open your informational packets to page six and we’ll get the worst part over with.” 

Sam rolled her eyes; as if the “worst part” hadn’t happened to her fifteen times over already. She jumped a bit when one of Paulina’s long and sharp nails jabbed her in the arm and sent the girl a death glare. She opened her mouth and was about to let the Latina girl have it, but Paulina held up her phone once more, showing Sam the picture on her phone. It certainly did not look like they had only literally ran into each other and fell down. Stupid Elliot. Stupid Paulina. Stupid day. Sam wanted nothing more than for this day to be over and for everyone to go back to their typical method of ignoring her existence. She scoffed and turned the page in her packet, bracing herself.

The instructor read through the packet’s section on the actual act of sex, several girls shifting uncomfortably in their seats, the rest tuning the whole thing out. “Sam clearly already knows so much about this. Maybe you and Danny should be teaching the class.” Sam rolled her eyes,  stretched her leg out, and kicked her cousin’s shin for that comment. 

“For the last time, Danny and I are just friends and are going to stay that way. Nothing is going on between us, we aren’t dating, he’s not my boyfriend. I don’t even have a boyfriend. I don’t know how else I can dumb it down enough for you guys to understand,” Sam said bitterly. 

“I don’t know why you’re denying it,” Paulina started, “it’s so obvious you love him.”

“Yeah, you really just need to admit that to yourself, Sam. It’ll make your life a lot easier,” Valerie chimed in. 

“Just admit it, you like him and totally want to see him naked. We all know you do.” Star twisted her hair around her finger boredly. 

“I do not!” Sam protested. 

“Maybe we’ll leave you alone if you do.” Sam didn’t trust her cousin for one second, but with all of the girls staring her down, she decided to take her chances in hopes that they would hold up their end of the bargain.

She sighed and played with her bracelet nervously. “Alright, fine...maybe I do like him. But it’s certainly not any of your business, and if any of you ever tell Danny or anyone else about any of the things said today, I will put your decapitated head on a spike and stick it in front of the school as a warning not to cross me and then use your remaining body parts as human compost. At least then you’d be contributing to society in some way.” Sam looked up and saw several of the girls staring at her; she smirked at the ones who looked absolutely repulsed at her threat. 

“Finally!” Valerie groaned. “You admitted it out loud. Now let’s all just get through these next fifteen minutes until we get a break for lunch. You guys are making this a lot longer and more painful to sit through. I have much better things to do than try to keep this civil.”

The girls all turned towards the instructor once more, with the exception of Star and Paulina, who had moved on to another piece of Casper High gossip. Sam breathed out a sigh of relief and looked to see what Mallory was up to now. She eyed the few items placed on the desk in the front of the room. What the heck was the Fenton Ecto Lipstick Laser doing here? She glanced up at the instructor again and decided that maybe now was a good time to pay attention. “...toys that can be used during sex or masturbation, like this one here.” Sam blushed as Mallory held up what Sam had assumed was a Fenton gadget, knowing she had thought very, very wrong. She would never be able to use that weapon ever again. Did the Fentons know that their gadgets looked so inappropriate?! Shit, and she had quite a few of them inside her locker too. As much as she loved seeing her mom burst all the little veins in her head, if her mom got any little ideas in her head, Sam would probably end up in some French boarding school with no way to contact the outside world. 

Sam shook her head and looked at Mallory pointing to a messy diagram on the board. “And this here is the clitoris, and it’s sole purpose is for you to feel pleasure. It actually has several thousands of nerve endings in it! Isn’t that fascinating?!” Mallory looked eagerly at the high school students, actually peaking some interest now. Sam looked over at Tetslaff, who had set her puzzle down and suddenly seemed interested. Damn. For Tetslaff to actually be paying attention, this part must be super important. 

Mallory went into a few more details. “So, stimulating it will give you more pleasure regardless of what else is going on. Any questions?” Several hands shot up in the air, including one from Tetslaff. Gross. “Excellent! You first.” Mallory beamed as she turned to Tetslaff. 

Oh no no. Sam was definitely tuning this part out. She started paging through the booklet again. It’s not that she wasn’t mature about the whole thing - she was actually learning some stuff - but she did NOT need to think about one of her teachers having sex. 

Were the guys learning this stuff too? Was Lancer being as active as Tetslaff? Sam shivered. Didn’t need to go there. 

She looked down at the booklet and pulled it closer to herself so no one would notice. She peeked at the diagram of the male anatomy before quickly looking away. She didn’t entirely see the appeal, but it was probably different when it was inside of you. She lightly blushed. She could do this. She’s mature. No one should know she’s fazed by this. Goth indifference. Maturity. She can handle this. 

Sam looked up when she felt someone’s eyes on her, spotting Valerie with a slight smirk on her face. 

“Taking notes, Manson?” Valerie laughed. 

Sam responded with her middle finger. “Not. A. Word.” Her response just made Valerie laugh even harder. Sam smiled; she liked being friends with Valerie. 

Speaking of friends, how were Tucker and Danny handling this? She figured Tucker would be the worst off, although Danny really never understood where babies came from until 8th grade. Sam laughed to herself at that. Boys. 

“My Phantom would wear briefs for sure!” Paulina bragged, grabbing Sam’s attention once more. 

“No, he’s definitely a boxers guy,” Star said sternly while brushing her fingers through her hair.

“I don’t know, I’m kinda with Pauli on this one,” Lauren spoke up, “his suit is so tight.” 

“Oh!” Paulina gasped and clapped her hands together, “Phantom goes commando!” A few other girls joined in her squealing. “Now I know that when the ghost boy comes to rescue me, I won’t have to work very hard so we can share our first time together!” Paulina’s eyes shined as she started daydreaming. She was subconsciously squeezing her breasts together. Ugh. “I can’t believe the ghost boy flies around naked just for me!” 

Sam slammed her hands on the desk, speaking to herself. “He wears boxer-briefs you ignorant twats!” 

Silence. She had said it with absolute certainty. 

Valerie raised her eyebrows at Sam and smirked. Paulina looked offended. “Ugh, why would the ghost boy tell you anything, freak?” 

Sam finally looked up after someone got her attention and she looked at all the other girls confused. Once realizing her internal thoughts had actually been an outburst that people heard, her face brightened to a deep scarlet. “Wh-what? I didn’t, I mean, why would I? It was just...I mean, pfft what are you guys talking about?” Sam tried to play it cool.

“Oooo she DEFINITELY knows something! Look at that blush!!” Star squealed. Paulina shot daggers at Sam. 

“No, I just...uhhhh…” Sam literally could not think of a single excuse as to why she would know what type of underwear Danny wears. She can’t exactly say she patches him up all the time or talk about all the mishaps with his pants when he was getting used to his new powers. Damn, why didn’t that still happen now? NOT THE POINT. “I….asked him?” 

Paulina let out a laugh, “Why would you ever need to talk to him anyways? He doesn’t talk to losers.” 

“We’re not losers!” Sam quickly caught her mistake, “I mean, I’m not a loser, I just talk to him sometimes.” 

“Still doesn’t explain why you know what he wears. Unless,” a small gasp from Star, “unless you fucked the ghost boy too?! Does Danny know?!” 

Sam’s head made an audible thump when she slammed it against her desk, her dark hair covering her face completely. “Valerie. Help,” Sam quietly muttered into her desk. 

Fortunately, Valerie had heard it. “Uh, Sam just was writing for the fan zine on Phantom and had to ask him. You know, for the readers. Journalism and stuff,” Valerie tried.

Sam let out a sigh of relief. 

“Oh, I can’t believe this! Sam is cheating on my Phantom with Danny!” Paulina growled, “I’m going to tell Phantom the truth and then he’ll be all mine,” Paulina sneered. 

“Oh my fucking god, oh my god, what is this fucking day?!” Sam picked her head up and groaned. “Paulina, I promise it’s not what you think it is.” 

“I’m not listening to a word you say, you two-timing slut!” 

“Woah, uncalled for!” Valerie sternly pointed at Paulina. “I don’t know how Sam knows Phantom, but I can guarantee you it’s none of your goddamn business. Back off!” 

Paulina glared at her former friend and pretended she wasn’t phased. “Whatever. Wait until Elliot tells her little boyfriend her secret though,” she smiled mischievously and slyly pulled her phone out from her bra and started frantically typing a message. “Even if she is a bitch, it’s still good gossip.” 

Valerie sighed and tried to calm the other girls down. Sam was trying to figure out if she was having a stroke or not. Was all of this actually happening? Did Nocturne take over again? Oh man, now she had to warn Danny that there were rumors flying around that she was having sex with both halves of him! Danny will never want to be seen with her again and...wait, both halves? ...at the same time? She knows he can duplicate, and that could be really -

The bell ringing broke her thought process, thank god. 

“Alright ladies, grab one of the bags on the way out, go have lunch, then we will meet back in the guys’ classroom to summarize the topics covered today. Feel free to bring your bananas to lunch, just please remove the condom before eating it. We’ve had too many incidents at other schools already. See you in thirty minutes!” Mallory clapped her hands and held a box with little bags in it, making sure every girl took one as they left the classroom. 

Valerie sent Sam a gentle pat on the back for support before leaving. Sam scoffed at everything that has happened already today and gathered her things, ripping the condom off her banana and slingshotting it until it got caught in Paulina’s hair without her noticing. She smiled triumphantly and made her way to the front of the room, grabbing a bag on her way out. She walked to her locker and couldn’t help but peek inside the “goodie” bag. A large handful of condoms, a small tube of lube, a tablet of Plan B, some stickers, and more informational packets. Whoopie, she couldn’t wait to go home and read through those. She shoved her things in her locker and smiled softly as she saw her friends approaching her. She knew they would put her in a better mood. She took a deep breath and composed herself.

[joy1579]

Hey! So... When I started to play Mystic messenger I was a teenager, so I was wondering how the boys and Jaehee would react discovering that MC was a teenager too (platonic of course) I loved your headcanons btw ♥️

gah its been forever and a day since i was a kid. and even then i was like really bad at being a kid heh what do teenagers do? all i did was hide in the library and avoid socializing oops. whatever i had a lot of fun writing this! honestly i think they would all be very protective of you since the RFA really feels like one big family!

Jumin

He is proud of you and wants to provide you with future opportunities because that’s how he cares about people, by giving them a means to earn money and have purpose. Also he is very interested in what you can teach him about pop culture.  

-        Age doesn’t matter to him too much. Maturity does and you had proven your maturity by helping the RFA faithfully and well

-        In fact, he is very proud of how well you did and mentions that your professionalism at such a young age shows great potential should you apply to C&R (you know him well enough to take it for the compliment it is intended to be)

-        His presence practically drips with “proud dad preparing for his daughter’s future” vibes and considering the 11-year age gap you suppose you couldn’t ask for much better

-        That is until he hears you chatting on the phone and using slang he’s never heard before

-        Now he’s curious and asking questions. You show him some him some vines you have saved and teach him a bit about pop culture leading to an unlikely but very fun friendship

-        You and he tease zen a lot by having Jumin use made up slang and you pretending its super cool and zen’s just not with it. Also imagine getting Jumin to do a secret handshake just to piss Zen off. It ends with the “nyah” pose

Yoosung

Acts like your best friend that you enjoy teasing. He wants to be a good role model but that shiz is hard. You two bond a lot over stories about school and the struggles of exams.

-        He is very relieved to not be the youngest anymore because now maybe everyone will stop treating him like a baby. (spoiler alert they won’t. Ever.)

-        He worries that he’s supposed to act like a big brother. He doesn’t know how to do that! He’s always been the baby brother, or the youngest member, or the newest intern. How does one be responsible?

-        Tries and fails to intimidate guys away from you to “protect” you (but zen said it was his duty to keep you safe! He said all men are wolves MC!)

-        “If all men are wolves why isn’t he worried about you Yoosung?” “huh? Hey wait yeah! Does he not think I’m a man?!” “ go get em tiger. give zen a piece of your mind”

-        He helps you with homework a lot but no cheating! He tells you about the time he cheated to pass a class only to get to the next level class and understand NOTHING it took a lot of tutoring and studying and work to fix that mess. Best to learn it now while it’s still learnable.

-        He refuses to teach you LOL “don’t end up like me MC! Be better!” you learn it anyway and end up playing with him frequently. The rest of the RFA blame him for this much to his dismay.

Saeyoung

he wants to protect you in his own frankly silly way. still meme’s it up but doesnt want anyone “corrupting” you. actually he kind of treats you the way he would treat saeran.

-        He fights with V for the first time when V suggests leaving you in Rika’s apartment (with a bomb) but reluctantly comes around and does what V says

-        Stays a meme lord and is psyched if you can manage to out meme him

-        Definitely teases you about your age a lot (Yoosung is secretly glad to not be the ONLY one getting teased for being young)

-        “guys we have to protect the baby she has her whole life ahead of her”

-        Is the most adamant about not swearing, drinking or smoking around you

-        “y’all need Jesus there are CHILDREN here”

-        You may have to call him out on this behavior because seriously wtf you know for a fact hacking isn’t the most ethical or legal occupation and he’s gonna lecture you?!?

-        He may joke around but he up’s his protection game up about 10 notches because for real you have your whole life ahead of you

Zen

he basically adopts you okay. he wants to be your cool big brother friend and be everything his family never was for him. he takes care of you and stands up for you every chance he can.

-        He finds out very early on because the second he starts flirting seven shuts that shit down telling him your too young for that. He asks how young and is shocked but recovers pretty fast

-        You know the protective big brother trope? Yeah that’s him

-        He’s your ride or die friend too. Need a ride to school? He’s there on his bike, some dick is harassing you? He’s there to scare the punk off, and even though he doesn’t want to fight a kid he will if he has too

-        If its girls who are harassing, you he picks you up to give your rep a bit of a boost (it never hurts to be seen with such a handsome guy after all and if he shows up on his bike he’s also got the badass vibe going on)

-        He has ALWAYS wanted a little sister and now he’s adopted you. You’re his little sis now and he’s wrapped around your finger. He swears he’ll be a better brother than his brother was

-        He is so proud of all your accomplishments and is determined to encourage your dreams the way his parents never did (he might be living his family wishes vicariously through you but hey he treats you good so it’s cool)

Jaehee

-        She’s a bit worried about you taking on such a big responsibility as the RFA guest liaison at such a young age. What if your grads drop? Or you family gets upset? What if you had to also work a part time job and this interfered your young you need to be able to rest and live your life. (when you point out that she should do the same she brushes you off)

-        Not much changes honestly, she’s always been the RFA’s mom after all.

-        She gets a little stricter about language and “inappropriate” topics

-        She definitely encourages you to study and do well in school (and avoid any job’s Mr. Han offers you)

-        She still down to be your friend though! She’s all ears when you need to vent about school and you are always ready to lend an ear back when Jumin is giving you a hard time

-        You swap girl power ballads and she helps you set up a Zen fan club at your high school

Saeran

-        Look he didn’t intend to kidnap and actual kid and he’s honestly a bit panicked when he finds out your age you looked older than that he swears

-        Thankfully your mature enough and smart enough to do what’s needed of you and he supposes as long as you don’t have a family searching for you it should be okay

Ray

-        He’s a little more reserved but honestly not much changes he’s still innocent and devoted he calls you princess and tries to spoil you as much as he can he may not see you as a romantic interest but your still his obsession.

-        He likes that you trusted him even more since your young and therefor more vulnerable. You’re his family now, a better family than he’s ever had.

-        If you are the princess, he is your knight in the strictest definition. Which is to say he is devoted to protecting and serving you out of dedication and reverence rather than romance.

Unknown

-        He’s more verbally aggressive than physically aggressive

-        He doesn’t try as hard to seem intimidating because he thinks of you as a child, and he doesn’t have to prove how tough he is to a child it’s obvious after all.

-        Also his visits are simultaneously shorter and more frequent. Shorter because he tends to get flashbacks easier (since he sees you as a child despite you being a teen) and more frequent because they are less satisfying since he doesn’t let himself be physically aggressive.

Vanderwood

(IDK why but I feel like he probably had an actual family with a girlfriend/wife and possibly a very very young daughter before the agency. Maybe she left him and that’s why he’s so impressed by MC’s dedication in the secret ending. Or maybe they’re both dead because broken hearts make more money than whole ones. Either way I think a teen MC would remind him of his possible family and so he would be hell bent on separating you from the danger and drama of literally everything that happens in the game.)

-        He’s legitimately (and rightfully) concerned about you when he see’s you on seven’s CCTV feed

-        protective and angry dad mode activated

-        threatens to tazer seven into oblivion if he lets something (or causes something to) happen to you

-        “what the hell are you doing she’s a civilian AND she’s got her whole life before her, you and I might have thrown away our lives but she didn’t! whatever’s going on you had better fix it NOW”

-        He is not speaking with you. No way no how. Every word he says to you puts you more in danger and he is not having your life on his conscious

-        That being said the second you’re in danger he is all in on ANNIHILATING whatever has put you in danger

[sleuthingenigma]

𝙱𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝙰𝚄

𝐉𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲. 𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐥, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐚𝐭 𝐏𝐨𝐩'𝐬 𝐃𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐋𝐚 𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞 𝐍𝐮𝐢𝐭.

Like the true, independent force she was, Betty Cooper was seated in the driver’s seat of her mother’s car, driving  herself to her “prom” — the floor length gown and heels one of the smaller inconveniences she’d had to deal with, not daring to compare to the more pressing obstacles she’d had to face in the last four years of high school.

Unlike some of her closest friends and basically everyone else in her graduating class, Betty wasn’t headed to Riverdale High for the big night. She had been banned from prom, thanks to that slimeball, Bret Weston Wallis — one of the most spineless human beings she’d ever come across, and she’d certainly met her fair share of them. But hey, why change up her totally deranged high school experience now? She may as well continue her streak straying far from the status quo.

As she pulled into the nearly empty parking lot of Pop’s Diner, only taken up by her lover’s motorcycle and Pop Tate’s dark blue van, Betty’s heart was already racing with excitement for whatever Jughead had planned. He’d insisted that she didn’t lift a finger preparing for this night. He wanted to give her a complete night off from everything. Whatever needed their attention could be dealt with after her carriage turns into a pumpkin. The only thing she could think about right now were the lips of her darling prince. Well, now her 𝙎𝙚𝙧𝙥𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙆𝙞𝙣𝙜.

After putting the car in park, Betty eased herself out of the vehicle, careful to tug the entirety of her dress out of the car so it wouldn’t get caught in the closed door. When she opened the door of the diner, that familiar smell of fresh burgers and fries wafted right into her nostrils— a specific smell no other diner could recreate. Pop’s would always stand out from the crowd, and no diner could even try to compare. She didn’t realize how much she was going to miss this place when she moved out of town, until now… so many memories were made here.

Jughead was already sitting in 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 booth, looking right at her with wide eyes nearly bursting out of his head at the sight of her. He carefully slid out of the booth, holding his hands in front of him politely. As she slowly made her way over to him, her baby blue gown just barely grazed the floor, a mix of lace floral patterns, and modest sparkles filled the entire bodice, the lacy pattern trailing down her arms in off the shoulder straps.

He didn’t waste a second before pressing multiple, eager kisses to her lips. Her hand lingered on his shoulder as he swarmed her face with his lips, a bout of giggles leaving her as she tugged away from him.

“Save some for later, handsome,” she chuckled, shaking her head at her corny darling as she carefully slid into the booth, Jughead holding her hand to steady her as she settled in.

After she was comfortable, Jughead sat across from her, and her hands immediately took his. She stared at him longingly, his thick waves slicked back with just the perfect amount of wild and tame to the look, and he wore a dapper black suit, 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 nicely fitted to his body— Jug’s tie the same soft blue as her dress.

“Jug, are you always going to take away my breath like this?” Betty blushed, caressing his hands with her thumbs.

His eyebrows shot up and a smirk worked its way across his lips. “I hope you still have that mindset when you wake up to my poofy hair and smelly breath every morning in New Haven. Just keep remembering me like this, all spruced up for you.”

Betty rolled her eyes, the smile never leaving her lips as she shook her head. “I don’t care if you’re dressed to the nines or just rolling out of bed… I’m always going to look at you fondly. Your handsomeness hasn’t faltered since the day we met. In fact, I think you somehow keep getting even 𝘩𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳. What’s your secret?”

“You know…” Jughead began, a sly look on his face as he looked over her shoulder. Pop Tate would appear a few moments later with their usual orders. “I think I’d have to credit my 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘨𝘭𝘰𝘸 to none other than Pop’s burgers. I’m doomed to wither away once we leave this town and I can’t consume my signature triple burger on the regular. Nobody makes em’ like you do, Pop.”

Pop chuckled, beaming at the compliment, looking at the two of them like he couldn’t be more proud of who they’d become. “Now, don’t you two forget about ole’ Pop… you’d better stop by here when you’re in the area for a visit. Promise me?”

Betty and Jughead gave each other endearing, heart-warmed looks, before nodding at Pop simultaneously. “We’re definitely going to stop here, 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵, Pop. You have our word,” Betty said.

The bubbly man smiled ear to ear at the two, before returning behind the counter, leaving the two of them to their meal. Betty and Jughead sat there in that booth where they’d discussed many of their theories for whatever sleuthing ordeals they’d been working on at the time, sharing milkshakes over notes they’d been comparing on cases… A few booths down was their usual spot they’d shared with Veronica and Archie, their meetups with them a reprieve from the intricate, heavy thinking that came with their sleuthing endeavors.

As Betty sat there with Jug, just about finished with her meal, she began to wonder why she didn’t feel the bittersweet feelings that were supposed to come around graduation time. There wasn’t much in this town, let alone at the school, that she was particularly sad about letting go of.

Most of her best, fondest memories were with the man sitting across from her.

A smile formed on her lips as she watched her lover pick at every last bit of food on his plate. Once he’d finished up and his attention was back on her, he gazed at her like she was the most beautiful girl in the world. The same way he looked at her when she and Veronica were sitting in the booth, and he and Archie joined them. A first glance that she had never forgotten.

“You know, Jug,” she started, letting her fingers aimlessly trail up and down his arm. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you by my side all these years. Our lives have been… constantly turned upside down, attacked from all angles… but at the end of the day, it was you that I found my solace, consistency, safety and absolute ease within. I couldn’t have gotten through any of what I did without you, Jughead.”

Jughead immediately shook his head, his eyebrows furrowing in rejection to her statement. He grabbed onto her hand, giving it a firm squeeze. “And 𝘐 couldn’t have stayed sane without you, my little enigma. Even in the darkest, most bleak times in this hellish town, you were constantly that shining light in my life— and I have always held onto that. I will always hold onto you. We have proven time and time again that we can get through anything together. I love you, Betty Cooper.”

Jughead lifted her knuckles to his mouth and peppered gentle kisses upon them, eliciting a small bit of laughter from her, closely followed by glassy eyes.

Before she could say a word, Jughead was already getting up and out of the booth, standing right at her side with his hand held out to her. “None of that, beautiful. Only smiles tonight.”

Betty took his hand and let him guide her out of the booth, and downstairs to La Bonne Nuit, giving a wink to Pop as they walked past him.

It was weird seeing the place completely empty— the chairs were stacked up on all the tables, the stage bare, no one cozied up by the bar. Jughead left her standing in the middle of the wooden dance floor as he made his way over to his laptop, typing away until music came out of the speakers surrounding them. 𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐰𝐚𝐲 by Novo Amor played, as Jughead headed back to her with wide open arms, ready to take her in them.

Betty’s smile hadn’t faltered all night, beaming so much that her cheeks were beginning to hurt. She slinked her arms around his neck and took a step toward him, to close most of the space between them. His warm hands rested on the small of her back, holding her close as they swayed back and forth to the gentle rhythm of the music.

As overjoyed as Betty was, she couldn’t help the pang of pain that registered in her chest, thinking about how the two of them had been robbed of these dear, youthful experiences they should have been able to indulge in way more often than they were able to. She must have let out an audible sigh, because Jughead slowly pulled back so he could look into her eyes.

“What is it, love?” he whispered, tucking a stray, curled hair behind her ear, searching her eyes.

Betty’s shoulders dropped a bit, a frown finding her lips. “I don’t know, Jug— I just hate that some of us in this town were just forced into a nightmarish life that none of us should have had to endure. And, because of that, you and I didn’t get to have moments like this more often. We were always sleuthing, which I loved… I loved so dearly. I just wish we could’ve found a way to escape more often, you know? And not feel so much weight on our shoulders constantly? I don’t know.”

Jughead leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, running his hand down her arm to comfort her.  “I know. Trust me, I know. This town has been unfair and cruel, especially to you. But… soon enough, you and I are going to be worlds away from this seventh circle of hell. You’ll be buried in your Criminal Psych books, discussing cases with me when you’re stumped, and I’ll be sharing my latest stories with you. And in between all that, we’ll indulge in the most authentic college experience we can get our hands on. Junk food, cheap beer, football games, late night wanderings around campus… finding the best pizza place in town, not stopping until we’ve tried them all. We’re going to have it all, Betty. We’re finally going to 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘭. And I wouldn’t want this beautiful new beginning with anyone else but you.”

Sliding his hands around each side of her face, Jughead slowly pulled her in for a lasting kiss… which would eventually turn into quite a few opened mouth, euphoric lip locks. When they finally parted, the two nearly collapsed into each other’s arms with how breathless they were, eventually falling back into a sway with the music.

“Jughead, I already have it all… in 𝘺𝘰𝘶. But, trust me when I say that getting out of here and starting our new lives together… this is just the beginning of our adventure. Like Romeo and Juliet, but we live happily ever after instead… well, it looks like we’re on our way to doing just that.”

His lips turned up into a soft smile, chuckling fondly as she repeated the old phrase she’d spoken to him. “Only with you, Betts. It’s only ever been you, and will only ever be you.”

Betty let out a deep, endeared breath, willing herself 𝘯𝘰𝘵 to tear up again. Bringing her lips to his once more, and removing them only when she desperately needed a breath, Betty finally, for the first time in forever, felt like a real teenager.

“As much as I hated this town… I wouldn’t hesitate to do it all again. Everything that happened led us to each other— and that is the one good thing Riverdale has ever done for me,” Betty chuckled, before covering her lover’s face with little pecks.

The two lovestruck teens would spend a couple more songs getting lost in each other’s eyes, relaxing in their embrace as they moved to their own, casual pace, until Jughead’s specially curated playlist ran out. And even then, Betty would ask for just one more. One more song. One more dance. One more beautiful memory.

And just the beginning of the multitude of joyous moments to come for the two lovers. The ones who had beaten all the odds, and came out nothing short of invincible.

But until then, they were content in each other’s arms. No matter where they happened to be in the world, it could never compare to their true home that could only be found within 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳.

[xxdragonwriterxx]

I was tagged by the amazing @nefelimalfoy, thank you for the tag! I hope I’m doing this right, I’m still pretty new to the mechanics of Tumblr so we’re just gonna roll with it and hope this is how it works 😂. I made this on a new one to save space but I decided to do this tag because I figured it’d be a good way for you guys to get to know me since I don’t have an About Me page. Either way, thanks again, and here are my answers!

Named after someone? Yes actually! My name is Morgan and I was named after my mother’s maiden name because they wanted to give me a unisex name so I could be whoever I wanted to be, and that name just happened to work really well. It’s still my grandmother’s name so we always have fun calling each other by my name for fun. My mom also just really loved that name, even when she was a teenager, and wanted to call her child that in the future anyway, so here I am!

Last time you cried? The last time I cried was about three weeks ago. We recently moved several states away from my friends and family and I’m having a hard time adjusting since I didn’t really want to live in this particular state in the first place, coupled with leaving everyone, it’s been a little tough for me. Nothing significant, sometimes I just miss my friends 😊.

Do you have any kids? Nope, I’m only 18 so not quite there yet, but I’m hoping to have some in the future! I’d love to have between 2 and 3 but that all depends on what country I live in and the state of the world at the time I’m ready for them. Raising kids is expensive and really hard so I wanna be ready for them. But hopefully they are in my future somewhere!

Do you use sarcasm a lot? I guess I’d say I use it moderately. I love to use it all the time for humor purposes, but in terms of using it for when I’m annoyed, I guess it just depends on how long I am in an annoying situation and who I’m with. It’s my favorite thing to use for jokes but I’d say I use it moderately in terms of genuine use.

Eye color? I have blue eyes! Although they tend to change based on the seasons. In the winter and spring they are more blue and in the spring and summer they are more green, so I guess it kinda depends on the season and temperature.

Favorite book genre? Definitely fantasy but I will honestly read almost anything just so long as the story is interesting. I don’t really have a “least favorite” genre or anything because I tend to judge a book based on it’s story rather than it’s genre. But most of my favorite books of all time come from fantasy, so I’d say that’s my favorite aside from horror and psychological thrillers which are also top tier genres in my book (can’t watch horror movies but could read horror novels any day).

Any special talent? Okay so actually, I do have one talent that would be considered special. I have no idea where it came from or how I learned it, but ever since I was a little kid, I’ve been able to perfectly replicate certain animal sounds (and a few extra ones that aren’t animals too). I can do a dog, cat (both meow and purr), horse, goat, zebra, pig, dove, Golum (from LOTR), Stitch, trumpet, engine from Cruella Devil’s car (I know this is really fucking specific but trust me on this one), dragon growl/purr (think from HTTYD), and Homer Simpson. Again, I have literally no idea how I started, I just know that when I was a kid, I used to bark like a dog and eventually got good at it (according to my mom). Now, I just practice different sounds I want to make until I can completely replicate them. I know it sounds far fetched, but that’s what it is. It’s really fun to shock people with tbh 😂. But I always have to be careful dogs aren’t around when I bark, because I have set off a barking frenzy before 😅.

What country were you born in? I was born in America but I hope to move to Europe shortly after college. I’m looking at somewhere like Scotland or New Zealand but honestly getting to explore Europe will be amazing in itself and I know I’ll find where I want to live as I go along.

What are your hobbies? Well, writing is the obvious one but I don’t just write fanfics. I also write original short stories and I am working on a fantasy novel currently. Aside from writing, I have been riding horses ever since I was 2 years old, riding my first pony on my grandma’s farm. Now I ride and show competitively, showing in the jumper ring with my 17 hand dark bay Thoroughbred, Moose! We jump about a meter 20 (if any of you know equestrian terms/measurements) but we are aiming for the Grand Prix at some point in my life. I also like to wake surf behind a boat on lakes, draw, read books, and listen to music. I also absolutely love classic cars more than anything. It’s my dream to have one one day and fix her up, so while it’s not technically a hobby since I haven’t done it yet and I don’t know much about the mechanics, I do a lot of research and reading up on them, which will hopefully lead to my dream coming true at some point!

Do you have any pets? Oh god, here comes the word vomit. I could talk about my pets for days 😂 but I’ll keep it short. I actually have three dogs currently, two french bulldogs and a street chihuahua (she does not look like a normal chihuahua at all. She is quite a bit larger and has the funkiest ears of any dog ever. She looks like if a weasel, a chihuahua, and a pine marten had a baby) we found abandoned and neglected when I was 9. I also have a horse and my mother has one as well so as a family we have two because both my mom and I ride competitively. My two frenchies are called Herschel and Humphrey, and then the chihuahua is called Ginger. My horse, as mentioned earlier, is named Moose and my mom’s horse (a 17.2 hand Warmblood) is called Rexy. Despite having all little dogs, we used to have two labs whom I loved with all of my heart, so I’m hoping to get big dogs again in the future when I get out of college. My dream dogs are German Shepherds, Pitt Bulls, and Labs, Collies, or Dobermans. Honestly, just any rescue dog will work, but those are the dogs I envision myself having in the future.

What sports do you play/have played? Like I said earlier, I am an equestrian and have been riding for 16 years but when I was younger I went through a bunch of other sports to see  which one I liked the most. Obviously horseback riding ended up winning, but I did try soccer, gymnastics, dance, taekwondo, track, cross country, and wake surfing. Aside from horseback riding, wake surfing was a favorite of mine, and I only stopped when we sold the lake house and boat we had that we would use to surf. But I still love it and hope to try it again sometime! Other than that, I kinda just like exercising in general, so while I don’t do any of this competitively, I like to run occasionally and I ride my bike as much as I can when I have the time.

How tall are you? I am 5’4” or about 163 cm give or take. I am definitely the shortest aside from my mom in both my family in my friend group but I actually like being smaller sometimes. I can officially say I can fit in both a vacation suitcase and a medium sized dog kennel (like for corgis, beagles, etc.).

Favorite subject in school? In high school, my favorite class by far was Vet Med, but I also loved AP Literature. My teacher was the best and reading has always been my strength (rip math). As for my college classes, my favorites are Abnormal Psychology and Creative Writing.

Dream job? Okay realistically, my dream job is Forensic Psychology. Basically a detective with a psychology degree so that you can not only solve cases but also study the criminals behind them. That’s what I am currently going to uni for and what I hope will continue throughout the duration of my college years! I originally wanted to be a Veterinarian more than anything (hence why I took Vet Med in high school), but for a whole magnitude of reasons, I decided against it. I actually worked at a vet clinic for three years during high school and I fucking loved it, but there were just a lot of things that bothered me about the industry (it didn’t have anything to do with the vets themselves, those people are fucking awesome) so I decided it would be for the best if I changed my major. I still fucking love it and I even have an old textbook from when I was going to major in it that I read when I want so I can still stay refreshed on the major injuries and diseases and their cures. I also get some experience with Vet Med since with horses, the owner kinda has to do most of the healing unless it’s something specific like acupuncture, so I take care of all of Moose’s injuries and illnesses in the same way a vet would. If we are talking unrealistic, my dream job would be to train horses in Europe, writing short stories and novels as I travel around the world to train and compete. While I could never support myself with a job like this, horseback riding will always be in my life and I am hoping that my novel will be successful enough to allow me to be an author on the side of my Forensic Psych job!

Thanks again for tagging me, and thank you for reading through my word vomit about my life! In turn, I’m going to tag @mysteriousmagicx for this. Have a nice day!

[thebluejaysworld]

My decade

Honestly I don't know if anyone will see this... Let alone care. But I want to talk about my decade.

The past ten years of my life... Holy crap... Where to start?

I can only sort of remember the beginning. I started going to a different, much bigger school. And from years prior I had been bullied a lot. And I had a tendency to get really emotional and cry... A lot... Which created a really bad cycle. So instead I became emotionless... And bottled up a /lot/ of emotions. And my now ex-everything's (more on her later) mom convinced my mom to get me therapy. This was only the beginning of my mental health journey... this was fifth/sixth grade. Eventually I started to feel better and stopped needing it (for the time being). And I really only had one friend at that time. And she was my whole world.

This continued as I moved onto middle school. I still had a lot of issues looking back now, that went largely unaddressed. But this was also when I started to really discover myself and who my supports were. I had a small, but very tight-knit group of friends who took comfort in each other because we didn't fit in anywhere else. Some I still keep in touch with, some have moved on. This was also when my mom and I began to grow closer together.

Up until this point, my mom and I never really got along. We fought almost daily. And more often than not, it ended in tears, anger, and no apologies. But one of my teachers suggested that I watch Supernatural. And, not wanting to watch it alone, mom and I watched it together. For the first time in forever, we talked, laughed, and bonded. We had something unique to us. And as I watched more things (Including, but not limited to: Markiplier, Jacksepticeye, multiple animes, ETC.) I also wanted to share them with her. And to this day, we maintain that special bond. She is my absolute best friend right now, and has been for years. She is my support, and who I go to if I need to talk about anything. And she can talk to me most times. We trust each other. And our relationship will always hold a very warm place in my heart.

This was the year that I learned about the LGBTQ+ community. Which sucks... Because it was towards the very end of 8th grade... But my good friend came out to me as being bisexual. And that opened so many doors for me.

Also! This is when I started to write/rp! I absolutely cringe to think about where I started, because even that situation was horrible... But eh, I'll look at the positives.

Then came freshman year of High school. It was like nothing I had ever experienced before... And my mental health plummeted. The only place I felt happy was at my second high school where I was studying musical theatre. (Where I met a lot of LGBTQ+ people. Including a girl I really, really liked. But I'll get to her later too...) And it also really didn't help because that was when my ex-everything and my relationship turned from toxic, to absolutely poisonous. It was so unhealthy and abusive... But I literally grew up with her... So I literally didn't know anything else. I didn't know that that wasn't how people, let alone best friends... And later on, girlfriends... Were supposed to treat me.

But... Come Valentine's day, I have fallen for her. /Hard/... Like head over heels... I just knew she was the only one for me. And eventually, through her being bicurious... She started dating me. And that's when the shit really hit the fan... I'm not going to go into details... But it screwed me up... Big time... Thankfully her demon of a mother found out that we were dating. And she marched over to my house to basically tell my father that I was the spawn of Satan, and that I would no longer be welcome. (Keep in mind, this is like... A day or two before finals...) And long story short... As devastated as I was, I was so greatful for this later on. As I came to realize how abusive and fucked up the relationship was and always had been.

Sophomore year... I crashed... And I crashed hard. Like... Nascar racing, tire spun out, crash and explode... Hard. And to make a long story short... I developed several anxiety disorders and became severely suicidal. I also started dating that girl at my other school! And again, looking back now... It really wasn't healthy... I also got admitted to the hospital psyche ward for a week just after my birthday because I was just in such bad condition... But! One good thing that came out of the year was that I started exploring my gender and joined our school's Sexuality And Gender Alliance club.

Junior year. The flames were dying... But I was still stuck in the wreak. But I was slowly working my way out. I was getting better at staying in class and dealing with my disorders, and coping with my depression. But then I slipped... And was admitted back into the hospital for a week very early on. But I managed to get back up after I got out. And I quit my second school. And suddenly, again, as much as it devastated me... I felt so much better. I still wasn't great, but I was making progress. And I had a lot of fun that year later on.

It was also the first year I was fully out as a trans guy and officially went by "Jay". And except for a few bumps, everyone was super supportive.

I also made a bunch of new friends! And by March, I felt like I could take on the world.

And in June I started dating my amazing boyfriend @anxious-and-gay .

I am now in my senior year... And I am so, so much happier, healthier, and more stable.

Given... It's definitely had some trips the past few months... (My grandfather passed, financial situations, family situations, etc...)

But I was able to have an amazing Christmas and holiday break. (Except for a panic attack in Walmart on Friday and the past two days going to the dentist...)

So I /know/ that 2020...? 2020 is going to be my year. I am going to be better, feel better, and do more.

So to anyone struggling with anything. Just hang in there. You made it this far. You've survived 100% of your absolutely worst days. And if I can get back up? I'm positive that you can too. I believe in you.

Here's to a fabulous 2020. For all of us.

[sometimesrosy]

Dream of Love, ch 1: Non-Murdery Destination Wedding

rosymamacita

Summary:

Bellamy is charged to keep Harper's favorite cousin company during Harper and Monty's wedding, only this favorite cousin turns out to be his first love from High School, who left for the other side of the country and he'd never heard from again.

Turns out, Bellamy never really got over her. And seeing her for the first time in ten years? He knows he's not over her now.

Notes:

So, it's nanowrimo and I am stuck on my novel, and while I'm letting it percolate in my brain, I needed to keep writing to keep up my wordcount (I am a rulebreaker) so I started this little wedding fic. I figured I'd post the first chapter so I have incentive to keep writing it. I'm already working on chapter two. It is going a lot faster than my novel, tbh.

Chapter 1 Read on AO3

“You think you can handle that?”

Bellamy took a big swallow of beer and eyed Monty. “You really think I’m going to have trouble picking up five people from the airport?”

“Seven. And I know you’ve had a tough year at school, what with all the upheavals in the district, and the protests and all.”

“Yeah, well, we brought it all to the end and no one lost their lives, so I consider it a win for Bellamy Blake, high school counselor and history teacher.”

“And then the mess with your sister.”

He took a bigger swallow of beer. “Yeah well. No one lost their lives there, either. So that’s better than the past has shown. BESIDES, this is your wedding! To HARPER! Who I LOVE! And we’re here on the beautiful Ark Ring Island, where everything is perfect and no one is making you eat meat because meat is murder.”

“That is not the description of the resort. It’s vegetarian. Okay. Harper and I think it’s important and we wanted to make our special day special to us. That’s why we’ve kept it so small. And that’s why we invited only the people we were closest to.”

“Oh yes. And my cousin.” Harper added. She was drinking something in a fancy glass with some fruit garnish and a tiny little lantern dangling off of the side. It was fascinating and lit her pretty face with a pink glow. Or maybe the drink was what had her glowing. Or maybe it was Monty.

“Oh right. And your cousin.” Monty smiled at her, like he couldn’t believe he was getting her for the rest of his life. They way they looked at each other made warm feelings happen in Bellamy’s chest until the words caught up with him.

“Your cousin?” Bellamy put his bottle down with a louder thunk than he meant to. “No. I know the guest list.” He counted off on his fingers. “Murphy, Emori—“

“They’ve broken up again so we need to play interference.

Bellamy rolled his eyes because of course they had. Again. “Raven and her new beau. Hey, why did she get a plus one?”

“You could have had a plus one. Was there someone you wanted to bring with you or are you still hung up on—“

“No I am not hung up on Echo. We are not together anymore. And I do not want to be with her. I might have wanted to marry her once upon a time, but it didn’t…It wasn’t right and we agreed on that.”

“Did SHE agree on that?” Harper asked, the lighted drink casting her eyes in shadow.

“Well she told me she agreed. I’m not interested in her like that. Okay? She’s still one of my best friends but…” he shrugged. “Something was missing. And if I’m gonna spend the rest of my life with anyone, I need it to be a relationship like you two have. You’re just right. You fit together.”

“We do, don’t we?” Monty put his arm around his fiancée and kissed her temple. The light of her drink softened their features. Made it so their glances, catching each other, were liquid, and warm.

Bellamy looked away with a pang of something, not jealousy, he was happy for his friends. Longing. He saw them and he knew he wanted something like that. He’d never had it with Echo. She was hot and they got along well, but after the sex, sometimes he just wondered if they really had all that much to talk about. And he wanted more than just hot sex and getting along. Everyone told him his standards were too high. But he’d rather have high standards than just…. Settle for something that wasn’t quite right. No matter how his friends tried to convince him otherwise.

“Hey. Are you trying to set me and Echo up again? You should know that it’s not happening anymore. And it’s not something we’re looking to rekindle, okay?”

“Well that’s good, because Echo is bringing a plus one, too. Roan. And he paid for her ticket.”

“She is? That’s great. I’m surprised I hadn’t heard. Good for her. So wait. Does that mean I’m the only one who’s going to be solo here?”

“Well there’s my cousin.”

“Right. The mysterious cousin.”

“Yeah. She recently moved back to town and I know I haven’t seen her in years and years, but we bonded again and she’s had a really hard time of it. I wanted her to come out. It was kind of last minute, but we made room. Her mom is watching her kid and I practically forced her to come.”

“Wow. So she can’t wait to get here. And you’ve got me paired up with her all weekend, don’t you. Wait. Are you trying to set me up with your COUSIN? That’s what the prying was about Echo? Everyone else gets a plus one but me?”

“Emori and Murphy are coming alone.”

“Emori and Murphy? They’ll be making out by cocktails and you know it. Come on, you guys. I thought this was a low stress destination wedding at your isolated non-murdery—“ he caught Monty’s glare and changed his word, “vegetarian resort. Now I find out you’re playing matchmaker?”

“I told you Harper. You’ve got to let him come to it on his own. This man does NOT like being worked.”

She huffed. “I am not working anyone. She had a bad break up and has been alone a long time and her adoption of her kid just came through and I finally convinced her to come home because she always loved it in Arcadia. She was psyched that you’d be here. Monty told me you actually liked her when she went to school with us.”

“Wait. I know her?”

“Yeah. My cousin. She lived with us for a year after her dad died.”

He shook his head. He still had no idea.

“Clarke Griffin. My cousin.”

Clarke Griffin. The blonde princess who had been the center of his senior year of High School. She’d been a junior and they had been bitter rivals in just about every class and club they were a part of, and they always seemed to be drawn together, until they wrote and starred in a one act play for their drama class, and from then on, they were actually inseparable. He was sure he was in love with her. And he’d kissed her, that last night, before her mother called her home to the other side of the country, but he hadn’t told her how he felt. He never believed that would be the last time he talked to her. He never thought that was it for them.

But it had been. He’d never heard a word from her again. It was like she had fallen off the face of the earth. Or he had. And it had always been the thing, that thing he wondered about. That “could have been.” But it never was.

“Clarke Griffin is your cousin.”

She nodded.

“I… didn’t know.”

“Well, you didn’t pay much attention to me then. I was just a kid on the soccer team who kicked your friends asses. I didn’t really rate investigation into my family ties, you were too busy being king of the campus. But I see you remember her. You think you’d mind keeping an eye on her? Keeping her entertained.”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Monty said. Harper glared at him.

“I may not even like her anymore.” He said, fumbling for his beer bottle again and taking a swallow. Why was his hand shaking? “She might be a dick now.”

“My cousin is not a dick! How dare, Bellamy Blake. If you are rude to her because you don’t trust my motives we’re going to have a problem.”

“Of course we’re not.” Bellamy tipped his bottle up and emptied it. He really felt the need for something stronger now. “It’s your wedding. If you want to give me the job of fetching people from the airport and keeping Clarke Griffin company, then that’s my job for the wedding. Hey. Everyone else is going to be paired up anyway, so at least I won’t be third-wheeling anyone. As long as she doesn’t think I’ve become a dick.”

“Impossible, you could never become a dick,” Harper said. “You’ve always been a dick.”

“Ha ha, very funny. Listen, I’m gonna turn in now, since I have to be up at dawn to go meet the plane. You picked an awfully remote island on which to get hitched, with a completely inconvenient airport.”

“Of course we did. That’s how we kept everyone else away and limited it to only the people we love.”

“And your cousin.”

“And my cousin.”

Bellamy left them then. Harper was busy finishing off her fancy drink and Monty was dispatched to get her another. He slipped out of the little bar area but Monty caught him before he could make it back to his cabana.

“Hey,” he said, putting a hand on Bellamy’s shoulder. “Are you okay with this?”

Bellamy let out his breath that he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He should have known that the name Clarke Griffin had hit him pretty hard.

He shrugged. “Yeah, it’s no problem. I can drive a minivan. I can drive anything.”

Monty looked at him like he was disappointed. “I mean Clarke. Are you okay with her being here? I didn’t even make the connection when Harper was talking about inviting her cousin. I kind of forgot that Clarke Griffin was the same person as her favorite long distance cousin.”

“Yeah. Why would it be a problem?”

“I mean, you kind of had a thing with her back in high school.”

“It was high school. That’s ten years ago. And I don’t think what we had actually qualified as ‘a thing.’ We were friends. We liked each other. That’s all.”

Monty was quiet a while as he stared at Bellamy. Too long actually.

“What. Spit it out.”

“So you don’t remember that after Gina left you, you got drunk and blamed yourself, because you could never love Gina that way. That you thought Clarke Griffin was the love of your life. And you’d lost her forever so you were doomed to be alone forever.”

Bellamy ground his jaw. “I was drunk.”

“And I thought you were over it. But then you broke up with Echo. And we all thought she was it for you. And she told Harper that you had an ideal for love that she could never reach and it just wasn’t worth it for her anymore. She could never be as perfect as some sort of fantasy.”

Bellamy didn’t respond this time. He just shook his head. But that didn’t put Monty off. Nothing ever put Monty off.

“Is Clarke Griffin that fantasy ideal love?”

“Come on, Monty. Be serious. Do you think I’m some sort of love sick kid? I can’t get over some girl who moved away when I was a teenager and I never heard from again?”

Monty cocked his head and just looked at him. “I don’t know. Are you?”

He sorted. “No. That’s not what’s happening here. Just a girl from the past. I can keep an eye on her just fine. We got along. We were friends. It’ll be nice. It’ll be great. Tell Harper not to worry. Or was that you being the worrywart?”

“All me. She’s excited for everyone to get here and glad to have Clarke around. I don’t think she thought you’d have a problem with Clarke. She’s hoping you’ll get along.”

“So she is matchmaking.”

Monty nodded and stuck his hands in his pocket.

“It’s okay Monty. I’m a big boy. I can handle one small woman. And if I can’t, I’ll have Raven run interference. She was great friends with Clarke before she took off. Okay? So don’t you worry about anything. Just enjoy your wedding.”

Monty sighed and seemed to want to press further but Bellamy shooed him back to his fiancee, and what other frightening alcoholic concoctions she might be getting ready to drink.

He strolled the boarded pathways through the beach, off under the trees. The music and lights from the bar faded away as the path twisted and he found himself back at his cabana. The little room was calm and soothing. Simple with wide windows and a sleepy fan circulating the tropical air. He could hear the waves crashing on the beach and only an occasional back beat or whoop from the bar.

He closed the door, slipped out of his shoes and threw himself on the bed.

Clarke Griffin.

He groaned and rolled over, covering his eyes with his arm.

She was the girl he had definitely never been able to get over. The fantasy that no other woman had ever been able to live up to.

But there was no way that she was the “love of his life.” That was just a fairy tale. There was no such thing. He was a grown up, adult man who did not believe in nonsense like that. Relationships were hard, that was all, and the first girl he’d fallen for had grown in his mind to be more beautiful, smarter, deeper, and more enthralling than she could possibly be.

This would be good. He could get to know her and then he’d realize she was just another girl. Just like anyone else and not nearly as perfect as she seemed in his memories. And then he could let her go. Move on. Maybe find a real relationship and stop hoping for some impossible dream of love.

[crazy-hand-official]

about me: the tag game

sorry didnt get around to this until now because my job got nonsensically hellish for a week 

1) Are you named after anyone?

yeah actually! when my great-grandfather came to america no one could pronounce his (my) long polish last name. idk why they didnt just call him by his first name his name was valentin but whatever they called him casey. i wish my name was valentine though thats cool as fuck 

2) When was the last time you cried?

yesterday i saw a picture of several rabbits sitting on a couch together and it moved me emotionally (no, im not kidding)

3) Do you have any kids?

no i mean id like to have kids one day but idk if i can have them 

4) Do you use sarcasm a lot?

“eh… no. After like mid-high school I figured out that it’s a lot more endearing to just be genuine all the time.”

i took this from shawns answer because its exactly how i feel. contrary to popular belief sarcasm isnt a personality and i kind of find it juvenile when people are always sarcastic

5) What’s the first thing you notice about people?

their eyes-to-nose ratio 

6) What’s your eye colour?

blue...... when im wearing my contacts otherwise theyre an olive green

7) Scary movie or happy ending?

scary movies are boring and dont really thrill me. i crave joy 

8) Any special talents?

i have synesthesia so letters and numbers all have a distinct color-haze around them that only i can see. but if youre talking about talents ive actually worked towards then definitely writing! 

9) Where were you born?

philly and my birth was perilous and a large inconvenience because babys gotta make an entrance first impressions are everything and i wanted everyone to think i was dead

10) What are your hobbies?

i write a lot!! its a story that i write back and forth with @master-hand-official and we have a whole universe with lore and everything!! i also love music and thrifting... playing guitar... drawing.... whatever man 

11) Do you have any pets?

i have a fat crusty yorkie named lomito. hes one hundred years old and smells like a bag of cornchips got all crunched up in a sweeper bag. i am his greatest fan. 

and then i have another elderly dog named louis (ooey gooey louis, king louis, french louis, bitch louis, etc.) who is a papillon with a chest cyst that the vet says would be dangerous to remove so its just hanging there and bumming everyone out lmao. hes extremely spiteful and holds grudges for months. there are only three people in the world he trusts and i am one of them. 

and then i have thirteen rats. it started with mrs cheese (now mother cheese) but then she went and got herself pregnant and had twelve children. she feeds them rat milk all night and when i try to look at them she covers them with her hands so i cant see because shes selfish. 

12) What sport do you play?

basketball!

13) How tall are you?

5′10″ and still growing! hopefully will be 20 feet tall by the time i die!

14) Favourite subject in school?

i miss anatomy and physiology... the only class i got a 102% in 

15) Dream job?

a musician who just... doesnt ever have to tour. kind of like how eno wanted it after roxy. but more realistically... im trying to get a job as either a school nurse or a psych nurse right now... thots and prayers people!!

thank you for giving me an excuse to talk about myself xoxo

[xuxisbbymami]

Psych 101~ Lesson 2

Lesson 1

Masterlist

Warnings- swearing, mentions of sex and Lucas being a butthole

Word Count- 1.2k (be proud) 🙃

A/N- sorry it’s been forever my family and friends have been ass lately so I’ve been uninspired BUTTTTTT lesson 3 is already written and I have something in my drafts I might publish later this week💖

You walk into the library the second 1:14 became 1:15. In fact you got there around 1:10 and waited outside the library.

You walk around the library and look for Lucas.

I know he’s not late to his own tutoring session. The tutoring I so graciously squeezed in for him.

You start to get agitated as your search for him in your massive seems futile. You’re about to leave and look for him to curse him out when you spot him at a table in the back straightening his books and reorganizing his notes. You sigh and walk over to him.

“You’re not late. That’s a good start”. You pull out the chair next to and sit as you pull out your own notes. “So what are you having trouble with” you ask will getting a good look at him. You can see why every girl wants to be fucked by him. Not that you want to. He sighs and runs his fingers through his hair, “Everything”.

You scoff, “Lucas we just started how are you lost with everything”.

“It’s just that when I saw psych 101 I thought it’s just a stupid elective you know? It was easy last semester you know? It felt like an elective class but Tuck threw a lot of stuff at as today and if today is just the beginning there’s no way I’m passing this class without some help”

You pull out your laptop and pull up your teacher’s website, “Lucky for us Professor Tuck puts everything on his website. The lecture, videos for extra help, extra credit assignments, everything. Just take everything a little at a time. Study everyday after class and before you go to sleep trust me it helps”

He smiles at you and you two start to go over today’s lesson

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“Thanks again y/n you’re a lifesaver”.

You’re both packing away your things and getting ready to leave.

“It’s nothing just don’t forget to look over what we reviewed. Text me if you’re having problems”. As you’re turning to leave he gets your attention. “Y/n I just- how are you like this? I don’t know anyone else in our year that’s like you. You’re so organized and focused. I just- teach me your ways”?

You laugh a little. People at school (besides teachers) rarely compliment you on your work ethic. They admire it and are jealous of it but they never really praise you for it. You check your phone to see it’s 2:30. Your next tutoring session doesn’t start until 3. You decide you can sit and chat for a bit. You sit down again as you speak, “I took this class in high school and I’m like everyone else. I just have my priorities straight.”

He shakes his head, “You’re nothing like everyone else. Everyone is focused on drinking, partying and hooking up. I bet you’ve never done things like that. What do you even do for fun?”

You get a little offended. He basically thinks I’m a Mormon great. You ignore his first statement, “I love watching movies. It helps me unwind and lets me feel like I get to live someone’s life.”

“You call that fun y/n? What kind of life are you living”? He laughs.

Now you might be overreacting but he did assume you’re a virgin who’s never tried drugs or gotten drunk AND he’s basically insulting your life after you spent an hour plus going over basic material for a simple elective class. You sarcastically laugh back, “You do realize there’s more to college than partying and having sex with anything that breathes right? You do realize that there’s life after college and some people, like me, are just preparing for it.”

“I get that it’s just that even nerds have stress relievers. They take out their stress and frustration with alcohol or video games I guess. You’re reeling me all you do is study and watch movies. Seems a bit boring”

“I’m sorry if I’m boring to you but luckily it’s none of your business. We attend one of the greatest schools in the nation how did you even get in let alone survive freshmen year? I bet you cheated your way here and relied on people like me. You probably heard that I’m really smart and saw me as an easy way to an A. Well you’re sadly mistaken Yukhei”.

He starts to get mad. “Really y/n you believe those stupid rumors about me? I worked to get here and I worked to stay. You should know more than anyone that rumors aren’t reliable sources of information”. He’s pissed that even someone as antisocial as you has heard rumors about him and he’s disappointed that you believe them and see him as nothing more than a stupid fuckboy.

You shrug, “All rumors have some truth to them even if it’s only a little”.

“People say you’re heartless and that you have no feelings or emotions. They compare you to Joseph fucking Stalin for God’s sake. You’re telling me that has some truth to it? I call bullshit. You’re not what they say you are and I’m not exactly what they say either. You’re actually a nice and generous person. You’re just really intimidating.”

You roll your eyes, “First of all I couldn’t give less of a shit what people say about me. And yes to people that don’t know me I do appear inhuman and you want to compare me to you? What they say about you is probably 100% true. I know you use girls for sex and then pretend they don’t exist. I’ve heard the stories everyone has.”

“I-.” He sighs and runs his fingers through his hair. He couldn’t deny what you said about him. He did fuck girls and then dip. “Whatever y/n believe what you want”.

“Oh and let me guess you major in something easy like psychology even though you’re ass at it. That’s how you made it this far”. You are probably taking it a bit too far but he’s acting like he knows you after talking to each other for the first time today. He acts so offended because you got all your information about him from rumors when he most likely did the same thing. AND HE CALLLED YOU BORING.

“Forensic psychology and let me guess you probably major in something like political science or economics. That explains the stick up your ass. I bet you’re a virgin. I’m willing to bet you’ve never even came before. You’re such a fucking prude. Here I am thinking you’re not that bad but you’re right rumors do stem from the truth”.

You’re absolutely done with him now. You get up and prepare to leave, “You know what? This has nothing to do with psychology. I decided to help and make room for you in my very busy schedule because I figured you’re a moron and need all the help you can get as soon as possible. Good luck finding another tutor”. You storm out the library door surprised to see no one had heard your argument. You look at the time to see you only have 10 minutes before your next tutoring session.

Shit! I’m going to late.

You run to the parking lot get in your car and speed to the local high school you’re tutoring at.

Fucking Yukhei. I used my time tutoring his dumbass when I could’ve been resting. Now I’m going to be exhausted.

You dramatically sigh and get out your car. You put on a big smile and prepare to prep these high schoolers juniors for their act.

[biopsychs]

What I Learned From University (1st Year)

FIRST YEAR

Everyone is super friendly, especially in the first few weeks → Introduce yourself to the people sitting near you for the first few weeks of lectures. Everyone is looking for a friend or at least someone to talk to!!

If you commute, make that time productive → My bus ride was an hour there and back each day. It sucks but I would try to be productive for at least half of the commute. I have a post about being productive on public transport here.

On that note, stay on campus as long as possible each day → As soon as I got back home I would procrastinate every little thing. Stay in an already productive environment for as long as possible.

Maybe don’t buy your textbooks used → I thought I was being smart by buying used textbooks (most schools will have a buy and sell facebook page for textbooks). I ended up having to pay for access codes in order to do my online homework – access codes that cost ~$70 separately and came included with new textbooks anyways. Email your prof or talk to someone who has recently taken the class to find out if you need an access code. If you do, your best bet is to buy a new version of the textbook (unless you can get a seriously cheap used textbook).

Print off your timetable and find all of your classes before the first day → This helped me so much! I found exactly where all my classes were before the first day of class. I wrote down little tricks to help me remember where everything was (i.e. my calc lecture is in the arts and science building which is also where the only subway on campus is).

Don’t knock living at home to save money → If you’re lucky enough to have a college or university close to home at least consider living at home. Getting your own place or living in dorms is expensive. (But if you have to find off campus housing on your own, don’t leave it too late or you might not find a place)

Figure out the best way to take notes for each class → You have to customize the way you study for each class, all depending on the prof and the content. I hand-wrote notes for some classes (chem, calc, and physics), but not others (psych and bio). If you’re writing by hand you can always just annotate your textbook notes or lecture slides (if they’re posted before class). If you fall behind while taking notes, just leave a gap and check out a friend’s notes after class.

Adjust your expectations → Don’t expect to get straight A’s, like you might have in high school. You can strive for straight A’s but be realistic as time goes on. For classes I struggled with, I expected to be near the class average. If I was a lot lower than the class average then I would know to invest more time.

Make time for physical activity → If we’re being honest I hardly exercised during uni. Go for at least a half hour walk each day and try to start a physical activity routine. Get a friend and join a sports team, go to a fitness class, or commit to some form of a daily workout with them! You’ll feel bad bailing on someone else, plus working out is more fun with other people.

Review content throughout the semester → Reviewing little bits of content will save you a massive content review right before finals! Look through old notes while you wait for your daily coffee or take 15 minutes to watch some khan academy videos on stuff you learned in the first month of classes.

Think seriously about how much you can handle → Don’t take on too many responsibilities at once and consider all of your options! I worked weekends and some week nights throughout the school year. Looking back I should have worked less because my stress levels were way too high. Also, quite a few people I talked to took 4 classes instead of 5, for their first semester of university. I don’t think I would have done it, in the end, but it’s always something to consider.

Have fun but be responsible at parties → Always go to parties with people you trust!! If you didn’t do much partying/drinking during high school (like me), remember to pace yourself when drinking! Eat before you go out and have some water between each drink, till you find your limit. Don’t let yourself be peer-pressured into anything but also don’t be afraid to have fun! And check out if your uni has a safe walk program (someone will come and walk you back to your dorm or your car if you feel unsafe or nervous for any reason)

When procrastination hits, aim to be productive in some way → The only reason my biology mark was so high was because I would study biology whenever I got sick of studying for physics and calculus. If you know you need to study but just can’t do it, start by being productive in some other way – study a subject you do like, do your laundry, organize your study area, etc. Get your brain to start thinking productively.

Labs are difficult so be prepared → I had so many labs first year. Some tips: eat and hydrate before labs, never assume you can finish your prelab last minute, be nice to your lab partner, always remember lab safety (don’t be the person trying to wear shorts in the lab, TAs will not hesitate to kick you out), don’t rush through an experiment but be efficient, and ask for help (even if you feel like you’re bothering your TA).

Please go to bed early. Sleep affects everything → I was so dumb and would never go to bed early even though I had to be up at 6 am almost every day to catch the bus. Lack of sleep will catch up to you eventually!! Also, all nighters are not necessary, unless you make them necessary. I prioritized and never had to stay awake too late. And never pull an all nighter the night before an exam (you’re better off getting sleep and resting your brain).

Bring a water bottle everywhere → Buy a decent water bottle and always carry it with you. Even though my uni is small there are still tons of spots around campus where I can refill my water bottle!! Stay hydrated my friends!

A practice problem a day keeps the F away → This saying probably works best for science classes, but I guess a reading a day will get you somewhere too. Do something for every class each day, even if it’s just a practice problem or a quick reading. Develop a routine!

You’ll have lots of midterms → I was under the impression that midterms happened just once a semester (I thought I would have one week where I had a midterm for each class). That was not my reality. I had 2 or 3 midterms for each of my classes scattered throughout the semester. Study really hard for your first set of midterms till you get used to the high expectations!

Don’t worry about what other people are doing or thinking → This is mostly in regards to social media. I was bummed when I looked back on my first year of university, because I felt like I hadn’t done anything fun compared to other people. You only see the image that other people want you to see. You don’t know how hard someone worked or how hard they didn’t work. Just focus on you and how you can affect positive results in your life.

Other people literally don’t care about your appearance → My friend’s little sister visited campus and asked us “Why is everyone wearing sweatpants?” People literally don’t care. Dress nice and put lots of makeup on one day, because you feel like it, and wear sweats the next day.

Start essays and reports as soon as possible → You never know what might come up so be prepared for the worst! Outline your essay or graph your data as soon as you can.

Eat healthy and do meal prep → You can eat healthy during university! Set aside a couple of nights each week to do meal prep. Cook food in bulk to save money and don’t eat out too much. Try to have at least 1 serving of fruits or veggies with each meal or snack you eat!

Find a good study spot on campus → Explore your campus and figure out your favourite places to study. I had a couple of spots where I would always meet my friends to study and quiet spots where no one would bother me. Studying outside or in an area with natural light is always good.

Don’t be afraid to talk to your profs and TAs → This is the number one thing I’m going to try to do more of in my second year. TAs are chill to talk to and they can tell you tons of useful information on what upper year classes are like, which professors are good, why they chose to go to grad school, etc. If you’re struggling in lectures or labs, talk to your prof or TA! Make an appointment and be sure you can tell them exactly which concepts you’re struggling with or at least where you got lost. One of my profs told us he just waits hopefully during office hours for someone to come in. (Also profs love it if you ask them about their research or any topics they seem passionate about during lectures.)

Explore all the resources your university has to offer → My university has a program that is basically people bringing their dogs around for students to pet, in order to relieve stress. It actually works and gave me something to look forward to! Just be aware of your options so that if something in your life changes you know where you can go to ask for help.

Get a planner and utilize it → There’s no excuse not to have a planner of some sort. Use your phone, get a bullet journal, or buy a cheap planner. Have somewhere where you can record important deadlines and make to do lists. I also recommend back planning all of your studying at the beginning of the semester. Write down your midterms and finals dates and write down how much you’re going to study each day leading up to the exam. This way you’ll be able to look ahead at each month and figure out what needs to be done (i.e. getting an essay done early because the due date falls during a busy week of midterms)

This post ended up being a lot longer than I expected whoops. Take the things I said into consideration but remember that everyone’s experience will be different. Good luck to everyone heading to university!

My Other Posts:

AP lit tips

high school biology

organization tips

physics doesn’t have to suck: how to enjoy and do well in your required physics classes

recommended reads

reminders for myself

using your time wisely on public transport

what i learned from high school

[killingthebuddha]

During my sophomore year of high school, I underwent a brief yet sudden transfiguration from an awkward and demurring nerd into an absurdist rodent deity. Initially an episode of youthful silliness, my stumble into pseudo-religion was unknowingly my crash into a permanent state of religious crisis, becoming painfully cognizant of the stark tensions between the Human and the Divine. Only now, over two decades later, do I dare tell the strange tale of how I became the god of the lemmings and embarked upon my path of Christianity and existentialism.

My abrupt incarnation and haphazard revelation was neither a moment of blasphemy nor a plea for help. What my peers saw as silly or merely eccentric was for me a major shift in my self-understanding and my relationship with greater things, with what Paul Tillich calls “ultimate concern.” Here was a mechanism of catharsis that sustained me through some of the most pivotal moments of my adolescence. Becoming the Lemming God provided both a persona through which I learned how to push back against my world’s evangelical Christianity, and also a persona behind which I could begin to work out my own salvation in fear and trembling. Ultimately, my Christianity took on an absurdist edge, and this absurd Christianity would become the only Christianity that I could ever be a part of. But as a young teenager in a small high school who felt scant control over my life, briefly disturbing the waters of my social scene was insurgency enough.

In North Central Texas, high school football, barbecue, and cowboys complement the myriad Baptist, Pentecostal, and “non-denominational” storefronts and steeples manifesting Christendom’s reign. Radiating beyond the capillaried organism of the Dallas/Fort Worth Metroplex, suburbia scatters into cow country, full of provincial towns with oversized pickups and fierce independence. In that world, the message is clear and simple: God is in control; everything happens for a reason; everyone needs Jesus. Liberal–even moderate–churches resemble rare and distant foxholes, their congregants maintaining low profiles and their neighbors judging silently their orthodoxy and authenticity. Life in Texas is about where you go to church, not if. The Son of God is so all-encompassing that one breathes the spirit of evangelicalism just by living there.

I happened to just be living there, growing up west of Fort Worth in a three-Dairy-Queen town with an annual international rodeo. The high school mascot was and remains an enraged blue kangaroo. Imagine Friday Night Lights in miniature, without the decent football team and compelling characters. The year was 1989, during the AIDS epidemic and the nation’s Satanic Panic. An anxious time to be a budding sophomore, to be sure. I was afraid most of the time: afraid of my parents, of getting bad grades, of sex, of everything, basically. My only security was in books. Learning functioned as a kind of narcotic against the ravages of high school life.

Living detached and nervous in this rural Texas world did something to me, I admit that.  I have never considered myself a Texan, having moved from New England when I was nine. Speaking at a Northeasterner’s clip, I absorbed neither the drawl nor patois. Perhaps, the initial shock of moving to a landscape of heavy summer air and toxic sun, that endless horizon of rolling plains with only occasional scattered trees instilled a deep attitude of resistance. Regardless, I assumed the defensive stance of a trapped interloper, ever-adapting to the foreign way of life, memorizing the necessary codes to pass accordingly.

In Texas, some codes are for the religious panopticon: 1) Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain; 2) Remark how God awesomely shapes history and science; 3) Casually suggest prayer for life events, and especially before meals. Even though religion was not firmly pressed upon me at home, it surrounded me almost everywhere else. As if the prying eyes of parents weren’t enough, Jesus was an omnipresent, omniscient, and salvific judge. Each thought and action was recorded and suspect, waiting to be rewound and played back before everyone on The Day of Judgment. I was mortified every time I thought of it. Even as an outsider, I was still shame-adjacent to this well-structured world. All these procedures and proscriptions were self-policing for a species at constant risk, a people not to be trusted. People who were, in a word, fallen. Only immersive baptism, that hallowed, expected rite into adulthood, could increase your odds.

Immersed in that world, I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t talk to anyone about religion, because I didn’t know how to talk about religion. Religious knowledge didn’t come from within my family, where it served a nominally ethical purpose. It didn’t come from my immediate circle of friends, which seemed to coalesce possibly, in part, to escape it. And yet, Jesus permeated even the conventional treacheries of adolescence, contributing to the stressful morass of hormones, internal shame, and pop quizzes. It was all so overwhelming.

My inability to process and understand the role of evangelicalism in this world set it in bas-relief. Increasingly, I grew concerned about the looming cultural expectation that God was central in my life–a God who was painfully ever-present, who just wouldn’t go away. Jesus was boldly proclaimed through the posters in our school hallways announcing various Bible studies as well as the “GOD’S GYM” T-shirts shouting “HIS PAIN, YOUR GAIN.” Amy Grant, Michael W. Smith, and Steven Curtis Chapman filled the headphones of so many Walkmen.

My panic attacks would come later, gasping in that toxic Evangelical air. Until then, my psyche sought to not just resist, but outsmart that religious world, something tectonic and rippling. Satire is, by its nature, a language of resistance.  In ninth grade, my English teacher had introduced to us the weapons of Jonathan Swift and Alexander Pope. I understood A Modest Proposal and The Rape of the Lock to be works of caustic genius, cool and exciting. There remained, however, for me a fundamental disconnection. The English remained archaic, the British context distant and historical. Yet I brandished the literary firearm of a genre as only a tenth-grader can, lashing out against my surroundings, critiquing and mocking whatever sacred cows I could find.

In Monty Python, I found comic relief, if not salvation. Here was a release valve for the deadly-serious matters of Jesus Christ As Lord And Savior Of The World. The anarchic British troupe provided not only a vocabulary, but a grammar of transgressive language and performance. Sketches like “The Bishop” and “The Spanish Inquisition,” ever-unexpected, provided a space and vehicle for considering and attacking God and the Church from a vantage point previously unoccupied. In their madcap world, the legacies of the literary satirists became tangible and vicious. I could experiment with cultural taboos, explore absurdism, and challenge my status quo, and yet maintain an air of conformity in the midst of it all. Nothing was off limits.

I learned all the lines to Monty Python and the Holy Grail–especially Brother Maynard’s Scriptural recitation for the appropriate and effective employment of the Holy Hand Grenade. It was only a matter of time until something exploded. The grenade would eventually detonate in Algebra II.

I was exhausted. It was still so early in the fall semester and I had studied all night for this math test that I was now bombing. My body felt surreal, punchy and disoriented. Anxiety struck. The broader concerns of life and family and school and existence began to cascade upon me. Decorum and taboo evaporated in the dizzy swirl of youthful panic. And there in that room and in myself was something unimaginable growing inside me, snapping open its eyes and shaking itself awake. Numbers and symbols, an unbreakable code, stared nonsensically up at me. I rose from my seat and wobbled up to place the exam face down upon my teacher’s desk. Turning, my eyes absorbed everything before me, the classroom’s bland carpet and walls, my shoulder-hunched classmates, my glazed-eyed teacher. Through the windows, the afternoon light shone ochre, the color of mathematics. I felt my soft palate burn sick. I stumbled back to my seat. I was dizzy and nauseated at myself, and at the sunlight, and at solving for ‘x’.

And in that moment, I did something previously unimaginable, something very unlike me that had become very, very like me. Like a Dead Poets Society schoolboy, I stepped boldly, firmly up onto my desk, planted both sneakers upon my chair, outstretched my arms in a crucified pose, head cocked and defiant toward the room’s scribbling masses, and proclaimed in a bold and clarion voice, “I am the lemming! I died for your sins!” Those unchecked words flowed up through my throat and into the heavy air of the classroom. This got attention. I wasn’t sure I  wanted attention now. But there I was, standing above my classmates, all of them. Silence and startled stares shot back at me. Then, I heard my teacher’s commanding voice. “Burke. Sit down.” I sat down. Slouching deeper into my chair, a strange and new-found energy quivered through me. I blinked and gripped my desk. Something had happened.

My brain buzzed. I felt like I had blown a hole in my foundation. But what was pouring into the crater? I sensed that unobtrusive and anxious me had broken through myself into that which I feared: the failing of so many expectations. It wasn’t about this math class, but something greater. Sophomorically, I had lashed out at logic and order with rhetoric and absurdity. I had done something audacious, but I couldn’t figure out exactly what. The adrenaline of panic began to dissipate. For the rest of class, nothing more was said. I simply didn’t matter enough, and I enjoyed that safety of indifference. I’d never been a disruption before, so I got a pass. I was good at passing, even if I was only barely passing Algebra II.

When the period’s dismissal bell finally rang, we all shuffled out, relieved of our collective ordeal. That ochre room souring behind me, I felt I’d crossed a threshold. I had failed expectations in that class. Incomprehensibly, I had broadly paired my failure at math with failure and religion. But why? Furthermore, I had discovered a new kind of freedom for myself in speaking aloud, in saying aloud something very strange and abrupt. Something unimaginable had been imagined. In an awkward teenage way, my existential battle with religion was made manifest. And it would never again be silent. I had never been the class clown. But now, if only to myself, I was the class heretic.

The lemming is a small, inoffensive creature resembling a squat hamster, its coat a furry black, brown, and tan. It has a soft, round body, fat cheeks, and beady, black eyes. They are social animals that live in arctic burrows, serving as low-rung fodder, primarily for snowy owls and foxes. They have an affable Disney or tortured Watership Down quality, whichever you prefer. When I stood on my chair, I cared little about any of this. I primarily understood lemmings, like most people, as tiny mammals seemingly seasonally-driven to mass suicide. I hadn’t been looking for attention, but there I was on my chair mimicking an apex of divine suffering, making it my own for my sin of not having properly prepared for my exam. I hadn’t proclaimed myself a martyred revolutionary, but a sacrificial vehicle of atonement. Upon my desk, I had put on the mantle of a god–and not just any god, either! I was now the divinity of an mostly-unobtrusive rodent. And I was strangely compelled to share that. Who does that?

High school hallways are natural conduits of self-reflection and dread. They are brutal, revelatory, and downright embarrassing. I could have chalked up what happened to exhaustion and left it at that. But I couldn’t let it go. Making my way through the throngs of students, I began to parse the moment. Why the fuck did I say I was a lemming, of all things?

And that was how satire had come to save the day. From bloodthirsty rabbits to Twentieth Century Vole, Monty Python routinely elevated ordinary fauna from their humble status to something frightfully transgressive. Human virtues often employ traditional animals as archetypes. The fox is clever. The dove is peaceful. The dog is loyal. The lemming is… suicidal? At least, that’s the conventional wisdom. I was the deity of these seemingly nihilistic creatures, and for what? To be the embodiment of this creaturely absurdity? To metaphorically turn my lemming-like classmates from their mindless dash toward the sea of conformity? Even that was a muddle.

I had, perhaps, gotten slightly ahead of myself. By abruptly and absurdly proclaiming myself the Lemming God, what I had unknowingly done was deftly manifest my own existential crisis. A playful act to handle high school stress had unwittingly initiated a kind of dire self-reflection. I had proclaimed a persona, but I soon understood that mask to be ultimately meaningless. This somehow led me to consider the meaning of my actual self. Who was I in this little town and what was I doing here? Was I just going through life, serving someone else’s purpose? The silence was stark. In truth, I had acted before I was. And in acting, I became. C’est l’existentialisme.

Before me among the lockers gathered my friends, my fellow eccentric academics. In those hurried minutes after my math class, something beyond the veneer of the episode’s silliness had begun to take shape. I discerned a truth underneath it all. If anything, I knew I could entrust my revelation to my circle and I would not be mocked. We were not just nerds, but weird nerds, that subspecies of nerds, abhorred then, but who now create the geek culture voraciously consumed around the globe. As my friends turned to greet me, I outstretched my hands, like newfound paws, and grinned. “Lo! I am the Lemming God!” I announced. “I died for your sins!” They paused and stared quizzically. I had touched the third rail of religion. I had gone there. I had broken taboo.There was a kind of disclosure, a quality of “coming out” to it.  This was now my thing. And then they laughed. They laughed welcomingly, even if they didn’t know how to accept it. Among the many rows of blue lockers, this was my moment, my transfiguration. It was good to be there.

With a wry smile, I did next what seemed almost natural. I turned to my friend beside me, looked deeply into her wide eyes with newfound Dionysian zeal, and asked her in a lofty accent, “Wouldst thou like to become a lemming?” “Yes!” she beamed, shrugging her shoulders. I grew solemn, dead-panning a missionary’s tempered sobriety. Standing tall and lifting my chin, I concentrated on her face. “Close your eyes,” I commanded. She did. I cupped my left hand upon her cheek with the gentleness of a loving savior and proclaimed, “I baptize you…”. I touched her other cheek with the back of my hand and continued, “…as a…,” and in Pentecostal fashion lightly tapped her forehead with the meat of palm: “Lemming!” I shouted. Her eyes fluttered open and she tipped back, her mouth slightly open in shock.

“And there was much rejoicing!” I cheered, stealing a line from Monty Python and the Holy Grail. Everyone marveled, perhaps a bit nervously. “Eek! Eek!” I squeaked, clenching my raised left hand into a paw. “Eek! Eek! Eek!” responded my friends, paws raised with enthusiasm. And that was it. No water. No spirit. Four people were saved that day. From what, though, I am still not sure. But our church had been birthed and the gospel, whatever it was, had to be proclaimed.

News spread poorly. In actuality, evangelism was merely a side effect of our group just stating we were lemmings. In fact, I was probably the only one saying anything. Among our immediate classmates, the reaction was tepid: “Oh, you’re a lemming? Then you’re one of Burke’s friends. Weirdo.” And as this mock religion slowly became known among my peers, I continued to wrestle with what the whole thing was actually all about. even if it meant nothing to anyone else but me. This semi-alter ego was clearly my catharsis. Something inside me was hurting deeply and I was doing some heavy lifting. I understood that much, at least.

In retrospect, my antics probably could have qualified as a kind of performance art. But performance art was something far away in New York City; we small-town kids would see only sanitized and neatly-packaged versions of it through MTV, if at all. If I had known about performance art then, I probably would have played my role more fiercely, caring less about what painful ramifications I could experience: I was weird and said weird things. I was a rural Diogenes ranting to his own barrel’s echo. High school weirdness, as any weird kid knows, creates a particular kind of reactive threshold. Either people decide to dismiss it entirely or to punish it. The most common reaction to what I said and did was confusion. And this bafflement led to swift disinterest, which probably saved me from getting my ass kicked.

Some of the evangelicals, however, felt otherwise. I had created my own Life of Brian situation, where there was outrage simply because I was playing with faith and sacred cows. I was a messiah in a town where there clearly was only room for one. I hadn’t attacked or openly derided Christianity. Instead, I had created something juxtaposed to it, if only as a kind of mirror, and this was enough to freak my classmates the fuck out.

This is how raw Texas religion can be. The very existence of Another God is tantamount to an existential threat. I knew students whose Jesus was so strong and so powerful that he could not endure anything that smacked of mockery. One well-established Christian stared at me hard after I had recounted a list of maxims uneasily similar to the Beatitudes. “Blessed are the stoats,” I suggested. “For they will frolic in green pastures.” Her tone was sharp and unforgiving. “Burke, you can’t do that. You can’t say that!” As The First Commandment clearly states, monotheism abhors competition. And here I was, threatening this girl’s orthodoxy simply by claiming turf. All I could do was to grin and shrug.

There is something so high school about the whole thing, about the powerlessness and seeming futility during that formative period of American life. A teenager has only so many ways to express anxiety. And I seemed to have manifested that adolescent suppression into an icon of absurdity and meaninglessness. Indeed, what is more meaningless in north central Texas than a god of lemmings? In that math class, I had located myself in one of those high school critical moments and had shuddered to my core. I had no power, no authority, not within my family, not within my life. I was desperate for liberation, but had not yet encountered Kierkegaard’s observation that “anxiety is the dizziness of freedom.” I had only recently discovered Albert Camus, and was still terrified to read The Stranger, but not too scared to listen to The Cure’s “Killing an Arab” on the sly. “Whichever I chose, it amounts to the same: absolutely nothing.” I was painfully ripe.

My persona was not God, but a god–and a very small and ineffectual god at that. A mortal god if there ever was one. A god revolting, if only for himself, against the mob-boss God who owned this dirt town, who ran and still runs this state. I was no messiah. I had no miracles, no Scripture, no nothing. Merely giving religion the finger wasn’t interesting or seemed to take much effort. Instead, I was running my hands across a long wall, feeling my way across it. Texas religion has a shape, a structure, a texture. And here was its wall. Shaking up my world was my exploration to understand it better. It was pure teenager.

My pseudo-religion, founded upon the silliness of the innocuous and suicidal lemming, betrayed deeper and unsettling matters of identity and purpose. I found myself outlining internally so many structures, so many forces pushing against me and so much for me to push against. I was shining a light on what I understood as religion’s absurdity and the danger of its cultural codes, and I found a strange confidence in doing so. It was a confidence for understanding that mortality is real, life is absurd, and that existence is troubling. Only in college would I really understand that the only way I could tackle Christianity for myself would be to comprehend it as ultimately absurd, and to understand its societal trappings as a lethal Kierkegaardian Christendom.

By the spring, the Church of the Lemming had mostly run its course, and our collective attentions chased after new, 1990 interests like Twin Peaks, Depeche Mode’s Violator, and making stupid movies with my parents’ VHS camera. For me, the catharsis of becoming the Lemming God helped ease something within me, if only the entry point of turning sixteen. Rebellion requires consistent energy, and I just didn’t possess the internal resources to sustain either the internal angst and rage or the external performance art  against the machine of Texas Evangelicalism. I had classes to pass. I was still the Lemming God, but a tired one. The problem with punk is that its strenuous, frenetic exertion of self leaves you exhausted and vulnerable to what you were resisting in the first place.

“I met a girl” are the famous last words of many boys catching their breaths in the agonizing throes of rebellion. And, indeed, in the fall of that new school year I suddenly noticed a girl in my class. I don’t know why I fell for her, because she wasn’t the kind of girl I wasn’t brave enough to ask out. She wasn’t an artist, or alternateen, or even part of my inner cadre of eccentric friends. But she had an intensity about her that kept my interest and that proved my undoing. I didn’t realize until it was too late that that intensity was for her Lord And Savior Jesus Christ. Still, I remained smitten.

One night in my parents’ Subaru, when I thought we were about to make out, she stared hard at me and asked me about my relationship with Jesus, catching me entirely off guard. Flush with hormones and derailed expectations, I had no good, immediate answer. I knew she was a Christian, but that hadn’t really been a significant aspect of our relationship up to that point. I left the date dazed, pondering the truth that though I had parodied some of its basic tenets, I still did not really know much about Christianity. The Lemming God absconded, easily felled. For the next four years, I tried to be present in that Christianity that I had worked so hard to resist. It wasn’t that I liked it or believed it, though I gave it a shot. It was more that I just stayed there, because my world’s ecclesiological wasteland was so expansive that I didn’t know of any other option.

Attending the University of Texas at Austin during George W. Bush’s gubernatorial tenure, I witnessed the galvanization of the Religious Right’s student wing. Improbably, as a sophomore, I was offered the student presidency of the Baptist Student Union, and I did not have the courage to decline. In my passing, I remained tacitly complicit in the gathering storm that is now part of history. I winced at the religious right’s homophobia, complementarian sexism, and overarching patriarchal suburban whiteness. I saw the ascendance of Intelligent Design, Christian apologetics, and the idolatry of the Bible. Progressive Christianity seemed wholly marginalized on campus.

For those four years, I was pummeled by the orthodoxy of evangelicalism’s overzealous joy–not happiness, but joy. That indescribable sense of security and reassurance, that well-grounded faith in God. And the more I became aware of that joy, the more I discerned I did not have it. It was not part of my experience as a human being. This “joy of the Lord” all seemed like so much methadone. I tried and failed to “pass” during my bout of Evangelicalism. But ultimately, I flamed out and flamed out hard, for so many reasons.

In the rushing return of my existential angst and frustration, that crater within me reeopened. But in the place of the Lemming God appeared something daunting and apophatic. I discovered an improbable kinship with the writings of Søren Kierkegaard, especially Fear and Trembling. It affirmed Angst, the Absurd, the Absolute, and the Leap of Faith. I turned and embraced fully the anxiety and melancholia of the Gospel that tells of the God-man cast into the Wilderness to later suffer abandonment by both God and Man. To prepare myself for formal academic theology, I changed my major from psychology to classical civilization to translate Greek and Latin, learning the New Testament and its socio-historical context for myself, not what had been preached to me. I found solace among the Episcopalians, who deftly bridge ancient and contemporary worlds.

In all of this, a blunt, reactive atheism never came. Instead, I ventured forth into the world of deconstruction and the death of God. After UT, I studied philosophical theology at Yale Divinity School, learning and honing my theological utensils, delving ever deeper into existentialism and postmodernism, tracing God’s shadow as I hoped to find it. What developed was a bleak theology that discerns and preaches lamentation toward action, anxiety of freedom, and, indeed, a post-punk counterweight to joy. It is a stark theology of Lent and the Triduum. It is where I find relief, solace, and strength–and it is mine.

Origin stories are often dubious and spectacular, my lemming-god story being no exception. For a long time afterward, I considered my sophomore years of high school and college to be the worst of my life. I was dreadfully unhappy and stuck in so many ways. But I remember that Kierkegaard wrote that “life must be lived forward, but understood backward,” and I understand that they were two of my most formative years. It was in those years that I began to understand the value of my anxiety, that it had a force–in the guise of an absurd rodent deity and a nascent theologian.

I also eventually learned the truth about lemmings. The entire idea in the American consciousness about their mass suicide is a lie. In Disney’s vivdly told, Oscar-winning 1958 documentary “White Wilderness,” lemmings are filmed plummeting off rocky cliffs into far-below waters, where they ultimate drown. In fact, they were shoved. Disney’s film crew force-marched the creatures to their deaths to support their constructed narrative. This myth of suicide, which persists to this day, was debunked in a 1983 Canadian TV exposé on Hollywood’s cruelty to animals. Such are origin stories.

As humans, stress and sorrow shape who we become and color how we perceive ourselves, our pasts, and our futures. Too often, we treat these pressures, these gravities, as illnesses to be avoided or cured. We fashion narratives and theodicies to explain their origin, direction, and impact. The Lemming God was birthed in stress. My Christianity was formed in a crucible of unhappiness. I would not be the person I am today without the circumstances that taught me the importance of existential anxiety, cultural critique, and theological inquiry. I would like to think that, as I live my life, I have better questions now than before, about God and myself and the tensions between. Perhaps, in some way, there is that to rejoice about. Eek! Eek!

[cloverr-fields]

All odd numbers of the cute asks

Oh goodness, this is gonna be a long one but here we go!! 

1. Who was the last person you held hands with? Probably one of my roommates, but not in like a walking-talking sense! It was more like she came into my room and took my hand lol

3. Who are you looking forward to seeing? A bunch of people, actually! I’m looking forward to seeing my best friend when she sleeps over this week, and I’m looking forward to seeing my mom and other best friend when I go back home in three months. 

5. If you were drunk, would the person you like take care of you? Without question, although I think I’d be okay! I don’t usually get drunk, and I’m generally the friend who’s taking care of people lol. They’d probably be laughing at my ridiculousness a lot. 

7. Do you think you’ll be in a relationship two months from now? I mean, I don’t know….. Would I like to be? Ideally, but I’m also in the middle of classes and I don’t really know how that’d work out practically. 

9. Does talking about sex make you uncomfortable? Nope~ I’m really open about those kinds of things tbh. 

11. What does the most recent text that you sent say? Let me go find it…. “Ohhh okay” (Sorry, I know it’s pretty unexciting) 

13. Do you like it when people play with your hair? Yes yes yes yes yessssss it is the number one thing to do that calms me right down (besides hugs). 

15. What good thing happened this summer? This past summer, I spent most of my time in camp and with friends, and that was super fun. I got really close with people that I didn’t expect to! Also, I moved to Israel! 

17. Do you think there is life on other planets? Define life. Bacteria and other protozoic life forms, definitely. I don’t know if I totally buy into the idea of intelligent life forms on other planets and aliens like the Hollywood movies show. 

19. Do you like bubble baths? I love them, but I don’t take them very often. Lush is one of my favorite stores, I love bath time products. 

21. What are your bad habits? I bite my nails sometimes, but I’m trying to get over that and I’m managing it really well! I’m also a tapper, and I tend to grind my teeth/hum when I’m not paying attention. I also chew gum a lot and bite the little clip things off of mechanical pencils…..

23. Do you have trust issues? Some, yeah. Depends on with who and regarding what, though. I stopped journaling for a long while because of trust issues, but I’m super open with people and I consider everyone trustworthy until proven otherwise, in most cases! 

25. What part of your body are you most uncomfortable with? My stomach. I hate it. 

27. Do you wish your skin was lighter or darker? I wish I was more tan, but otherwise not really! 

29. Have any of your ex’s told you they regret breaking up? Yeah. 

31. Is your hair long enough for a ponytail? I refuse to cut my hair so short that it would not be. So yes, absolutely. 

33. Spell your name with your chin. eliusahewv casYes, that is definitely my name. Not too far off tho!

35. Would you rather live without TV or music? TV hands down. I depend on music like you wouldn’t believe. 

37. What do you say during awkward silences? Usually nothing tbh…. I’m not really the one to break them. But I usually try and do an “anyway” segway or something like that. 

39. What are your favorite stores to shop in? Lush, Bath and Body Works, Barnes and Nobles, Target, Macy’s, Bloomingdales. 

41. Do you believe everyone deserves a second chance? Yes, but a limited one. Your second chance with me is usually your last, and if you hurt me again I drop you entirely. I try to keep that my policy, but there are definitely exceptions. 

43. Do you smile at strangers? Absolutely. I smiled at a bunch today! 

45. What makes you get out of bed in the morning? Talking to my friends, and my alarm clock. Also, eventually I just get fed up with my own laziness too, so there’s that. 

47. Have you ever been high? No, and I don’t plan on it. 

49. Have you done anything recently that you hope nobody finds out? Yes, and I really hope that they don’t. It was nothing bad, before you get any ideas! It’s just…. Something personal, if that makes sense? 

51. Ever wished you were someone else? Yes, and I still do at times. That’s something I’m trying to work on. 

53. Favorite makeup brand? The only brand name things of makeup I have come from Bobbi Brown, I think, so maybe I’ll default to them? Or Mac? 

55. Favorite blog? I don’t really have one, honestly…. I like a lot of different bloggers and people!

57. Favorite food? Pizza, hands down. 

59. First thing you ate this morning? Wacky mac. I didn’t have a very nutritional breakfast. 

61. Ever been suspended/expelled? For what? Oh God no. I think I would die. 

63. Ever been in love? This is a complicated question. I’ve had a lot of strong feelings for people before, but I think there’s maybe one person I would say that I’ve been in love with. We broke things off a while ago, and we’re good friends now, but I still have a lot of feelings for her. 

65. Are you hungry right now? I’m so hungry tbh I’m waiting for my roommate to get out of the shower so that we can go pick up sushi. 

67. Facebook or Twitter? Facebook, but simply because I don’t use my Twitter like ever. 

69. Are you watching TV right now? Nope! I’m looking between this answer and the question list lol

71. Craving something? What? Sushi omg I want it so bad I’m so hungry

73. Do you sleep with stuffed animals? I do, actually! I have a teddy bear that my mom gave me when I last was home, and it helps me sleep at night when I’m homesick or in a bad place. I’m a very touchy-huggy person so to me it’s a big help. 

75. Favorite animal? Any form of feline. I love cats. 

77. Chocolate or vanilla? Chocolate all the way. 

79. What color shirt are you wearing? Black, actually! It’s got a pretty blue and white pattern/design thing too! 

81. Favorite TV show? Ummm probably Psych? Not sure, I have to think on this one a little more. Maybe Bones? 

83. Mean Girls or Mean Girls 2? I’ve never seen the second one, so Mean Girls? 

85. Favorite character from Mean Girls? Karen. (I think? It’s been a while since I’ve watched it) 

87. First person you talked to today? It was either @justanotherurl-not​ or @mizuritamanami​ but I don’t know for certain. 

89. Name a person you hate? A particular girl from high school might fit this description. For her privacy, I’ll just call her Sam. 

91. Is there anyone you want to punch in the face right now? At this exact moment, no. 

93. How many sweatpants do you have? So many pairs omg. My high school gave them out religiously. 

95. Last movie you watched? The Greatest Showman (WHICH EVERYONE SHOULD WATCH IT’S SO GOOD) 

97. Favorite actor? Ummm not sure. That’s a very good question. Probably someone like Leonardo DiCaprio, or Chris Evans maybe? 

99. Have any pets? No, unfortunately, but I plan on getting a cat sometime soon! 

101. Do you type fast? Yeah, and I can more or less touch type now! I’ve memorized my laptop keyboard lol thanks Mavis Beacon! 

103. Can you spell well? Usually I’m very good with spelling. My mom likes to joke that it’s because I read the dictionary when I was younger (which I did, so maybe she has a point). 

105. Ever been to a bonfire party? The only one that might qualify I’m not going to count, so nope! Maybe someday! 

107. Have you ever been on a horse? Yes, and I love horseback riding so much. I highly recommend it to anyone who hasn’t gone- it’s so relaxing and I had the best time doing it. 

109. Is something irritating you right now? Someone, but yes. It’s not their fault, though, so I probably won’t say anything to them. 

111. Do you have trust issues? I think this was already a question on this ask….?

113. What was your childhood nickname? It’s not really shorter than my name, but my mom used to call me her “princess ballerina.” 

115. Do you play the Wii? I did, but I haven’t in four or five years, since we moved and never unpacked it. 

117. Do you like chicken noodle soup? Who doesn’t? 

119. Favorite book? Right now, probably The Somnabulist by Jonathan Bates, but I love almost every book I’ve read. The Eragon series is also one of my favorites, and I love classical literature, like A Tale of Two Cities and The Sun Also Rises. 

121. Are you mean? I can be, if I want to or have to be. But I hate it, so I try very hard to steer clear. 

123. Can you keep white shoes clean? I can’t keep any shoes clean.

125. Do you believe in true love? Yes, but I believe that it’s usually something that grows with time and isn’t just magically found. 

127. What makes you happy? Music, good food, friends, a good book, a good movie, rewatching old anime series that I haven’t seen in a while, etc. Flowers, cats, pretty things. I’m a girl of simple pleasures. 

129. What’s your zodiac sign? Taurus! (April 28th is my birthday!) 

131. Your best friend of the opposite sex likes you, what do you do? This one hits a little close to home at the moment. It depends on the circumstances. 

133. Favorite lyrics right now? “She’s the tear in my heart/she’s a carver/she’s a butcher with a smile/cut me farther than I’ve ever been,” -Tear in My Heart, twenty one pilots

135. Dumbest lie you ever told? I really don’t know. Maybe that I was British? but I wound up fooling the teacher for two weeks, so.

137. How tall are you? 5′4″!

139. Brunette or blonde? I’ve always wanted to be a blonde, but I have recently started liking my hair (I’m a brunette) although I definitely have a thing for blondes. 

141. Night or day? Night has always been more peaceful to me, but I love the sunshine. Maybe like twilight time? 

143. Are you a vegetarian? No, but I could be if I wanted to! 

145. Tea or coffee? Tea is what I like better, but I definitely appreciate a good cup of coffee with plenty of milk and sugar. 

147. Mars or Snickers? I had a Mars bar for the first time this year, and I definitely prefer it. 

149. Do you believe in ghosts? Absolutely. I love watching all of the ghost hunting shows, even though I know they’re bullshit and I kinda believe them lol

Okay!! I made it through all of them! I hope the answers were satisfactory and thank you so much for asking, you wonderful person!!! 

Ask me anything               This ask list

[zebra-warrior]

With having a disease in which such little is known about it I can definetly say, I've got a lot of hopes for the future, especially future generations diagnoses with EDS. You guys know the things I got through with this rather you believe the medical abuse and neglect is real or not others with EDS know that if anything I'm downplaying the extent of it so my hopes for the future is that this condition is incorporated into medical school training requiring a very minimum of one week spent on the topic of EDS and much more in anatomy on the functions of connective tissue as well as connective tissue diseases as a whole being discussed more in school. Another more immediate hope is that schools totally throw out the zebra and horse teaching mindset and quit educating students to only focus on common diseases. Even what little schooling I had it was as if they were telling us rare diseases don't exist at all. They totally discourage us from even thinking about rare diseases. I remeber being assigned to study and write a report on one medical conditon then speak about it in front of the class. The teacher said we could pick any one we wanted. Everyone in the class chose more common conditions like strep throat, upper respiratory infections, breast cancer, and a ddw other more common cancers, heart attack, pneumonia, the flu, diabetes, high blood pressue etc. I went home and searched the web for rare diseases, this was even before I knew I had a rare disease myself. I read up on several and came across one that seemed particularly interesting. Trusomy 13. I wanted to choose someting rare because I feel like the common ones have enough recognition, enough financial backing for research and frankly we're too easy. I wanted a challenge, I wanted to speed the word about an underdog in much news of awareness and to spark interest amongst my peers who may spread the word. Trusomy 13 is one that often takes the life's of an individual on infancy and causes a lot of complications so this is what I chose. The day the teacher went around the room asking all of us what we chose she got to me and I told her. She pauses and said don't you want to try something more common like everyone else? I said no, I like the challange. She said well I would really encourage you to pic something else like how about heart disease? Theres a lot of good information put there on that. I said no that's okay, I like my topic and I'll be able to find enough information on it. She then asked me to speak to her after class. After class she said look, I need you to pick a different topic. I asked why. She said because it's too hard. I told her to trust me I can do it. She then said that conditon is so rare I've never even heard of it in my entire career. I don't know what it is or anything about it and theres no way for me to be able to grade your report on a condition I don't know anything about. That's whan I said well you said we could pick anything at wanted. I picked something I find extremely interesting and that's what I want to do. Besides if you don't know anyting about it you can learn someting new. After a big more of a debate, reminding her several times that she said we can pick anything and that even if it's not common it exists she finally I think, realized she wasn't going to change my mind and caves so that was my report and I aced it. Just because someting is rare doesnt make it unworthy of being taught in school and by telling medical students not to even consider a rare disease in a patient is just setting the patient up for misstreatment by medical personel. One in 10 Americans live with a rare disease so allthough each disease may be rare, actual having one of those many diseases isn't all that rare itself so I hope this mindset is no longer instilled into the minds of students and it's removed from the corricilam.

In addition to changing teaching to no longer encourage students to only look for what's common when diagnosing a patient I believe they also need to crack down on and better educate on how to properly diagnose conversion disorder or what ever word they happen to use for it at the time and really any psychosomatic disorder as a whole. They need to teach then not to use it as a crutch for their lack of knowledge and address their egos making sure they are aware that not everyting was addressed in medical school so they in fact don't know everyting and shouldn't behave in a maker in which they think they do and in these cases where the patient goes years and years with going to doctor after doctor for help to listen to them. I also believe they should ban anyone without a psychology degree from being able to diagnose conversion disorder. If they would like to send the patient for a psych consult or they would like to simply state in the referral "suspected conversion disorder" or please assess patient for a psychosomatic disorder fine but in no way should diagnose it themselves, or write long notes about the patient to try to persuade the diagnosis. If someone were going to trial in court for a robbery you wouldn't allow the plaintiff to talk to the judge and jourey before the hearing allowing them to speak without the defendant present in order to persuade them to rule in their favor before the hearing. They want a court hearing to be unbiased a psychiatrist or psychologist should be able to unbiastly assess a patient and make the decission on their own.

Medical personel should be very throughly taught the dangers of an incorrect diagnosis, espexially a psychological misdiagnosis and the tendencies for this misdiagnosis to follow them around throughout their lifetine even if it was proven a misdiagnosis just because it was a diagnosis written in stone at one point in their life. They need to know how this can totally ruin the care a patient. If they do this and it's a wrong diagnosis they should be required to have all records be amended by law if something like this happens and is later proven to be a false diagnosis. This is why this kind of diagnosis is only safe in the hands of someone who has spent a large portion of their schooling learning it from inside out like a psychologist or psychiatrist. This is my hope for the future. No one should ever have to go through what I went through and every other EDS patient I have ever known has gone through and likely will go through the rest of their life because misdiagnosis it not medical personel use this label as a crutch. A crutch they permenantly brand is with. Conversion Disorder and "I don't know" are not interchangeable and and should not be used this way. If a doctor does this I believe they are breaking not only the code of ethics but also their oath to do no harm and should have their license revoked. They may not be killing a person directly but by labeling them with this because they don't want to deal with it follows the patient around for life, limiting their access to care, prolonging a proper diagnosis, postponing treatment and ultimately taking years off of their life and forcing them to suffer so in the end you have shortened their life and made them live much sooner lives then they would have otherwise because you couldn't work yourself up to say you didn't know something.

Medical field asside, in the future I hope to see massive changes to insurance. Make all insurance equal like that if medicare for all so that more people are having issues with coverage and someting has to be done about it. The flaws in Medicare exposed and resolved. I would like to see the formulary overhauled and at the very least EDS added to it but what I would aultimatly like to see is a person's eligable for a medication no longer based off of the condition they have but based on the symptom they are experiencing. If they remove eligability based on condition, this will remove discrimination based on disorder resulting in people with rare diseases not being denied necessary treatment. Not long ago insurance companies were allowed to deny a person coverage if they had pre-existing conditions but when they took that away the formulary got tighter as a result. This allowed them to insure everyone so they had a physical card stating they had insurance while still denying a large portion of the sickest access to treatment. Obama seemed to try to resolve this. Things were far from perfect but it had improved but then when trump stepped into office to change medicare he ultimately further tightened the formulary as it pertains to rare diseases patients making it so that its nearly impossible to dispute denials. We used to be able to dispute them, a doctor would send in some medical documents showing the effectiveness of a medication, treatment or surgery or explain why we another medication, treatment or doctor would not be appropriate and it would be approved but now it's nearly impossible to have the decission changed when filing a dispute. Now what the formulary says goes no matter what if you're rate and don't have the FDA approval for that medication being used for that purpose causing rare disease patients to be out of luck, forced to be treated with something not likely to work, someting that can cause more harm to the body in the long run, someting that can improve one condition but worsen another or simply not recieve treatment at all so my hope for the future is for insurance to be changed for the better. Not just for the better if EDS patients but for the better of all rare disease patients.

Next I would like more awareness and financial backing provides to the Ehlers Danlos Society and other places needing funding for EDS research as a whole. EDS has no cure and no FDA approved treatments. I would like to see this changed. Very little is known about connective tissue. So little in face that scientists don't even know what it actually is. It wasn't even suspected until 2018 that connective tissue may even be an organ and we still don't know for sure. It was also discovered that nerve endings may actually connect to connective tissue and those tissues are capable of feeling pain from damage to them. It was thought for years EDS patients don't have pain and that that aspect was all in their head until that recent discovery which now ranks it one of the most painful diseases a person can live with. With 2018 being really the tip of the iceburg knowledge about the conditon we are hundreds of years behind on the knowledge other diseases have and hundreds of years behind on research. It's like living with Type 2 Diabetes or Breast Cancer in the 1700's. I would like more awareness, more education in schools as more financial backing to be supplied to this disease. I don't want to have this condition labeled as the most ignored (I used ignored because it won't let me use the actual word for uncared for) medical condition in modern medicine. It has held that title since 1965. It's held that title for 55 years. The most neglected conditon and nothing has been down to change this over the last 55 years. Something needs to change. I also wish that a cap would be put on some conditons for research. Sure a cure would be nice for everyting but if there's a treatment that is extremely effective why not give give a percentage of that money to an underdog conditon. One that doesn't even have as much as one medication to help it in order to help them to try to catch up, even if it's just a little bit.

My hopes for the future are that these patients have all of this. They are believed, they are not treated like a psych case or a burdon, a diagnosis isn't delayed years and years, they have access to treatment even if it doesn't have FDA approval, recognizing this condition as a cause of disability, learning more about it and possibly just one treatment. Awareness goes a long way and it starts there. No one diserves what eds patients go through now and I hope no in in the future has to and they can seek medical treatment without fear, without being sent home worse then when they came, without being left without care, without harm from medical professionals and that they are held accountable but if course this would also involve a change in society as a whole as its not just medical professionals who are only in the career for the money, to get their 12 hours in so they can go home and to take short cuts and the easy way out. There's a lot that need changed but humanity also isn't what it used to be when people took pride in their jobs and wanted to not only get things done but get them done right.

Below are some pictures that show some of this. The last three to together and I'll explain these. It'd the McGill Pain Scale, a scale doctors use to tell them the average amount of pain a person with a speciffic condition is in. It has since been updated but at the time of the study posted in the two lower pictures the bottom scale was used and it's vary similar to the update one. CRPS is rhe most painful condition on the pain scale ranking in at a 42 out if 50. In the study below 273 EDS patients participated in the study taking the same test to measure the McGill Pain Index Ranking. Of all of the participants 89% of them were already on medication a for pain at the time of the study so we're tested based on their pain levels on medication. The results calculated their pain essentially on a good day during the week and a bad day. The average moderate pain (good day pain) came on with a median score of 43 out of 50. The high pain levels or (bad day pain level) median score was 45 out of 50. This was with 89% of them being on pain medications. Could you imagine the scores of they were weaned off of those medications or hadn't been on any medications when they were tested? EDS was not added to the updated McGill Pain Index for one simple reason. That being because patients were on medication for pain so it was considered to have flawed the results.

#myEDSchallenge #myHSDchallenge