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My feelings towards romance most of the time

Like... my vaguely aro ass likes people, its just... the idea of romance is also a big complicated mess.

Either I get rejected for being trans, too much a boy for some, not enough of a boy for others; or, people use that relationship to invalidate me. Just confused, just a gay girl and not a boy, just butch, just pretending... 

Thus... I’ve kind of got an aversion to love. To the idea of romance. The cons outweigh the pros and honestly... why bother, y’know? Platonic physical contact works for me just fine, and platonic relationships, works too.

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Feelings of rebellion and feelings of wanderlust

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Three undetermined character boards

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Some new moodboards: 1. Things that remind me of how having ADHD feels 2. As an artist, these are all things that feel accurate 3. Some dark, edgy aesthetics 4. And some delusions of Grandeur

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Dreamcatcher

A cloudless night, the only sound in the background the steady hum of crickets and the occasional rumble of passing freight trucks. A welcome lull compared to the constant roar living next to a highway means during the day. The scuff of his converse on the roof barely interrupts this lull, even still he grits his teeth and hesitates a moment.

    Nothing.

    A sigh of relief escapes his lips as he leans against his  window frame for a moment.

    He does this regularly enough that it's really no surprise that his peers don't notice. They've no doubt accepted the sound of him climbing onto the roof as just another noise their ancient ranch house makes when it's settling. Just another creak or groan in the middle of the night.

    Not a good sign for if there's ever a break-in in the middle of the night, but, it certainly makes his current task much easier.

    The task wasn't really something he'd had explained to him. Instead, the knowledge involved in completing it had just...always been there. Like an instinct, awakened the first time he saw one of the wood and leather, feather baring things hanging from his grandmother's window.

    They could only hold so much, after all. And like any receptacle, they should be emptied fairly regularly.

    Not every student at this school employs the use of a dreamcatcher. Some don't believe in them. Others just aren't prone to nightmares. Those who do use them, though, have some of the most challenging dreams to unload.

    First of the night is Miles, who's window is only five down from the window Zac has to climb out of when he does this twice a month. Miles’ nightmares are of a very common variety. Perching himself beside the boy’s window, Zac sets a hand on the cool glass in front of where the catcher hangs. A familiar burning sensation touches against his palm.

    And then the yard below is full of clowns.

    A troupe of abnormally white faces state up at Zac, garrish oversized smiles and frowns plastered on their expressions. In spite of the moonlight, he can see every heinously vivid color of their unique curly wigs and incredibly tacky outfits. Zac closes his eyes, and within a moment, the nightmares are dismissed and the yard is once again empty.

    There are four more boys with nightmares as tame as Miles’, the subjects of which being old people, giant spiders, industrial sized vacuums, and animal mascots respectively. Zac repeats the process at each of the windows, the burning in his left palm now an insistent tingling. As he stands once more, he rubs at the palm with a wince.

    “Only five more after this,” Zac informs the empty night air. “Five more, and then I can try to sleep.”

    The next three windows are nightmares that Zac has definitely struggled to keep the secret of knowing about.

    Cole, and his nightmares of an elder sibling who did things like bully the smallish blonde into doing things like sticking a fork in the toaster, then claiming that Cole did it of his own volition. Jake and his recurrent nightmares of a drug addled mother sat down, her body convulsing and writhing with the withdrawals, her ramblings half tearful apologies for her addiction and half vindictive demands for the addictive substance. And Landon, who's nightmares revolve solely around a foul mouthed, alcoholic father.

    One by one, these nightmares are dismissed, his whole left hand feeling like it's on fire. But he can't stop. Not until these last two windows, arguably the hardest to deal with- the ones who's visages sometimes tormented Zac’s own unshielded dreams (because every dreamcatcher Zac has ever had broke after the first night).

    Emmett’s nightmare has had a name since the first night Zac saw it. Humanoid at first, but then with limbs of disproportionately long lengths, striding about like a four limbed spider, it's hollow black eyes locked on Zac as it paces and wails like a tortured soul of hell. Zac calls it a drider- like the fictional D&D monster born of Priestess’ of a spider goddess becoming mutated and losing their humanity.

    As the drider is dismissed with a wail that fades into a hiss, Zac’s stands, gripping the window sill with his right hand. His whole left arm aches now, causing his eyes to prickle with tears at even the slightest movement.

    “Just one more,” he informs the empty night, frowning when- for a brief moment- it's as if he can feel eyes on him.

    The horrid things he regularly views must be getting to him. They're making him paranoid.

    Raking a hand through his curls, again the right hand, Zac makes his way to the last window.

    Skyler’s nightmares have three distinct characters.

    The first is a guard type dog, it's muzzle split four ways as it snarls and snaps an abnormal amount of teeth open and shut.

    The second is a baby, one that wails in a way that would make it seem like someone was breaking it's limbs. The piercing shrieks that leave the child’s mouth are something decidedly inhuman.

    The third is a girl, tall and slender, who bends over backwards until her palms touch the ground, her eyes rolling back into her head as her head rotates a hundred and eighty degrees, like that of an owl. She always comes toward Zac, her bone displacing gait permeated by sickening clicks and cracks.

    She gets closer tonight than she did two weeks ago. Zac assumes that's probably A bad sign.

    As these nightmares too are dismissed, Zac crumples to the roof. Agony darts up and down his spine and drags blades through the bones of his limbs. His skin burns and his heart pounds.

    The pain is what will cause his return trip to take nearly an hour to complete, where the trip out was less than twenty minutes.

    As Zac stands, his body shivers with the pain.

    And then he feels a hand on his hip.

    Zac jumps, in spite of himself. Looking back, he comes face to face with the brown eyed blonde who's window has always been five to the left of Zac’s own.

    “M...Miles?”

    The blonde boy shushes Zac softly, wrapping an arm around his waist to support him.

    “Lean on me if you need to,” Miles’ deep timbre is a surprisingly soothing sound. “Let's just focus on getting you back inside before you fall off the roof, yeah?”

    Zac nods, too shocked by the other boy's presence in this night to speak.

    The trip back takes only fifteen minutes between the fact that Miles half carries him, and that they re enter the building via miles’ window rather than Zac’s.

    Standing in the warmth of Miles’ bedroom, the seventeen year old wavers, his body too exhausted and pained to be steady on his feet. Miles pulls Zac to the bed, seeming to know the blue eyed male won't have the energy to argue. As Zac’s body convulses with pain, Miles speaks very softly.

   “Just breathe. Slowly in. Slowly out,” he soothes. Zac does so, relaxing some when Miles’ arm drapes across his waist. He reaches up and squeezes the blonde’s shoulder.

    “Thank you…” Zac exhales. His voice is hoarse from pain. Miles shushes him again.

    “Sleep. Your work is done and you're safe here with me.”

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Eyy this is my buddy (as far as I know he doesn’t know this account is me) and he’s streaming Final Fantasy 14 and he’s awesome, yall should go watch him

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Background

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Needed this shortened for reasons

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And of course, Treasures, both physical and otherwise

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What I think of when I hear the phrase “Manic Pixie Dream Girl”

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Something Simply Lovely

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Longing, Whether its to be a part of something or just to not be so alone

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Hard and Soft Simultaneously, as MLM Relationships Can and Should be Portrayed

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The Conflicting Emotions of Socialization

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Skyler ismy human bard character who, for lack of a better phrase, is a trash person. They’re a lot of snark and punk outfits and comments about gender being a social construct. And I love them.

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A royal blooded character who will either be a PC or NPC (haven’t decided yet) in the distant future of a DnD campaign I’m involved in

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Three more characters from a Harry Potter roleplay with the same person, we have:

Thatch, a slutty, sassy Hufflepuff

Hudson, a friendly, genderless Ravenclaw

And Val, a sweet, socially awkward Slytherin