#(example: you never need to ask for help with homework; you need help coping with trauma; the things you struggle with always conquer you

[the-trans-dragon]

“Why do you play games that make you suffer?” (Mostly referencing Majoras Mask, but also other games with lots of grinding/redoing/puzzles)

“I don’t like games that make me suffer? I like to be challenged.”

“Well… I like to be challenged! …If I’m immediately good at the challenge. I mean I don’t mind puzzles! …As long as I can solve them instantly… Oh my god, I don’t like to be challenged.”

-the-trans-dragon realizes they don’t actually like challenging things, they just like being good at things that other people find challenging; and having to reevaluate their entire personality which previously hinged upon the (false) statement of “I like doing tough things! I love taking on new challenges to grow as a person!”

[mbti-notes]

Anon wrote: Hi there, and Happy Holidays! I hope you’re doing well. I’m having trouble determining my type - I’m currently torn between INFP and INFJ. You seem very well-informed on Jung’s theory, so I’d like to ask for a type assessment from you. My main conflict is what feeling function I use.

For extra info, I’m 21F. I have ADHD-PI, social anxiety and depression, as well as some trauma, which may affect how I present myself as well as my level of health. I think, regardless of which functions I use, I use them in an unhealthy manner. It’s also worth noting that I don’t have a lot of life experience due to a sheltered upbringing (over-protective parents and relatively lavish home life meant that I never felt the need to demand much from the outside world).

INFP:

Dominant Fi:

I do have a one-sidedness when it comes to my values (if you could call them that, I’m really not sure), deeming types of hobbies, fashion, ambitions, and as such subsets of people as superior or inferior depending on what I think of them. My judgment affects how I see others in a big way. For example, I’ll judge people for dressing in a way I perceive to be “lazy”, because “do they not realise how they look to other people?”. Then, I’ll assume that they’re not associating with beyond common courtesy. Obviously, I know this line of thinking could seem haughty of me, so I don’t express this to others.

I place a lot of value on sophistication, intellect and manners, and expect the same of everyone else as well. My values mostly revolve around my expectations of how people should behave. I’m easily disappointed when I fail to notice these values in others, because my perspectives are based on what I truly believe is best for humanity at large. I recognise that this could be seen as imposing, and I never directly call people out for behaviour I dislike - I would rather persuade them to my side diplomatically.

I’ll be honest, the main reason I believe my feeling process to be introverted is the fact that I just can’t connect to my country’s culture, and it makes me resent it. It’s so heavily focused on everything I have no interest in; drinking, sport, nights out, TV. There’s a worrying amount of anti-intellectualism beginning to prevail too. It bothers me to the point that I want to emigrate, just so I can find likeminded people elsewhere. As such, I have difficulty seeing any values I hold as objective (as much as I wish for them to be universal), when I’m so disconnected from the objective world around me.

Inferior Te:

I lack the fundamental ability to implement solid solutions to my problems. I’m generally very inefficient and dependent on others to help me with this, such as homework in the past or filling in applications. I do struggle to fathom how people navigate the business world and the likes so seamlessly, and I often find myself admiring their ruthless nature. This is probably because my lack of natural assertion has led to problems within my personal life.

I become extremely cold and judgmental under stress, and only care about myself. I tend to self-centredly blame everyone but myself for the issues in the world, including me not being able to identify with those around me, and desperately want to “correct” them. This could be construed as black-and-white thinking in terms of morality. I rely on external standards to amplify my self-image, such as high grades in the past. Despite my coldness, I can flip to being ridiculously sensitive when someone makes me feel inadequate or beneath them, and it can lead to me being snappy with others.

Auxilary Ne:

I believe I use Ne as an escape from the world. I’ll often turn to fantasy as a way to cope. I have used this to procrastinate more pressing issues that I didn’t want to deal with, preferring to live in my daydreams where everything is easier. While I do have very complex worlds in my head, this can be enriched by things outside of it too. For example, I’ll admire the dynamics of a friendship group in a show, and wish for that for myself. So, I form an ideal group in my mind. This serves as a double-edged sword, because while it can be meaningful inspiration for me to implement in reality, it can also lead to bitter disappointment if these ideals can’t be realised.

However, Ne can cause larger issues than just procrastination. I will envision only negative outcomes to situations, leading to complete inaction. Eventually I lose hope altogether, thinking there’s nothing in the future for me, and reject the world altogether. My mind becomes more narrow, only choosing to stick to very specific situations and trains of thought.

I often turn to external forms such as music to identify my feelings, seeking to find myself within the feelings and expressions of others. I then wish to embody the images I find within the song, in hopes that I can discover my identity that way. This also gives me the opportunity to explore different perspectives, which can often help liberate my typical one-sidedness.

Tertiary Si:

In terms of Si loop, this tends to manifest in the form of craving my childhood back. I wish I could lose the responsibility on my shoulders and just go back to playing imaginary games and being completely oblivious to the world.

I also have a tendency to become closed-minded, immediately shutting out other people’s ideas that don’t “fit” in my own head. I would rather take no action at all than risk making the wrong move, because the regret would just be paralysing. My past experiences tend to drastically influence how I perceive things, and it’s difficult for me to wrap my head around how someone can see things so differently to how I do. As such, I cling onto my perceptions of the world heavily.

INFJ:

Dominant Ni:

I have always been known as an idealist, and someone that lives in my head. My mind was always my escape from the harshness of reality. Ever since I was young, I’ve developed deeply personal mental images and narratives, and purpose has been my driving force. When I was a child, I had myself fully convinced for years that I was a fairy queen doomed to live inside a human husk to test my fortitude for my “kingdom’s” sake. Even now, I always need to have some sort of abstract ideal propelling me forward.

The future has always been my main priority in life. Even if I don’t have a concrete idea of my life’s trajectory, I always know if something does or doesn’t fit into it. Others around me have complimented my insightfulness and my ability to predict what will eventually become of a situation. This can be anything from the plot of a story, to a relationship, generally anything can lead my mind to spiral towards a single-minded prediction.

However, this has been a large source of pain and isolation throughout my life. When I’m at my lowest, I make sweeping generalisations such as “everything is meaningless”, “everyone is so boring”, “every form of media I consume is shallow”. It makes me feel self-conscious, wondering if my expectations are too high, but I can’t seem to let go of my ideals regardless. I’ve been noted as a very detached person, taking my inner world too seriously.

Inferior Se:

The mundane has never interested me. I’ve never taken the world at face value, which does lead to warped perceptions and dashed expectations at times. I honestly tend to look down on those that exhibit more impulsive, hedonistic traits. I’ve been told that I need to “let loose” more, but I just can’t fathom doing that. I don’t understand why someone wouldn’t want to be in full control of themselves and their presentation at all times. I can’t envision my life or the world without meaning, and as such, I unconsciously reject anything I deem surface-level or crass. This does tend to overlap with typical Se traits.

However, there are times where I fall into Se traits during stress. I blurt out things I don’t mean to say, hyper-focus on insignificant details to the point that I lose sleep, and indulge myself needlessly in sensory pleasures, such as food, or deliberately delve into more shallow forms of communication, such as social media. A lot of the time, I obsessively seek out people or outside circumstances that prove my personal narrative about a concept, in a way to prove it to both myself and others. I expect and take from the world, but ultimately provide nothing.

Auxilary Fe:

As probably highlighted in my Fi section, I do exhibit some resistant behaviours towards Fe. Generally, any area will come with stereotypes of those that live there, and I don’t fit that mould at all. I’m quiet, prudent and abstract-minded in comparison to what’s expected. It’s a complicated experience for me, because as much as I resist what a lot of common behaviours represent, another part of me wants to beat myself up relentlessly for not fitting in perfectly. I often hope that I’m just viewing people negatively and tarring everyone with the same brush, so I will find my crowd eventually. I have never once rejected the concept of following objective values - if anything, it appeals to me greatly. I just think I have been extremely unlucky with the ones I’m expected to follow. Rather than following a greater purpose or meaningful relationship, I feel stuck in the monotony of my home.

Honestly, my default state is still to go along with everyone else’s wishes and forget my own feelings. It got to the point where I questioned if I could feel at all sometimes, and I’d lose my sense of identity altogether. I can’t bear any kind of conflict and I’m always trying to harmonise with those around me. The resentment I mentioned has only blossomed within the last few months, when I realised that the environment can’t always play to my preferences and strengths. It came to me like a flash of lightning. I often find myself wishing I could “unsee” the issues that led me to this constant frustration, so I could lose myself again and just comply. At least that sort of mindset could be seen as romantic or pitiful - my feelings now are just pure pettiness, and deliberately targeted at those I seek validation from.

I adjust my behaviour quite a bit to suit the emotional atmosphere, both to avoid exposure and to be seen in a positive light. I know what I can and can’t express, maintain etiquette, and try to carry myself well. As well as adjusting, though, I do try to have some sort of influence and warp the atmosphere to suit myself as well. I always strive to be a positive influence on others, and tend to view myself in the light that I want to be seen by the world at large. This is all in the hopes that eventually, I’ll be recognised by everyone as the ideal I’m trying to live up to, and others will follow in my footsteps.

I’m ridiculously sensitive to any form of criticism or rejection, and isolate myself often to protect myself. Any negative comment made towards me, even someone looking at me the wrong way, can completely throw me off and ruin my self-perception. This is amplified tenfold when around new people - I’m extremely self-conscious and try to come across as almost too perfect.

Tertiary Ti:

I see detached analysis as a comfort, in a strange way. The relief that comes with being able to detach and let go of emotional baggage is therapeutic for me. However, when I do use Ti to navigate my emotional life, it tends to take the form of rationalising my feelings, figuring out why I feel a certain way before I can accept it and express it to others. Naturally, this line of thinking extends to how I work around other people’s feelings, too.

However, I believe I can use Ti in an unhealthy manner too. When I detach from the emotional realm too much, this can quickly lead me to a misanthropic and cynical worldview. I tell myself that nobody is worth engaging with because they won’t understand, let alone accept, what’s going on in my head. I flip between desperately wanting to be loved and questioning why, when I can only think negatively of people.

I acknowledge that my logic can be flawed, but it’s hard to grasp that in the moment. It really throws me off when someone points out holes in my logic, though - even if I know I’m wrong deep down, I will often cling to my way of thinking just for the sake of it.

Any insight would be immensely helpful, I hope I followed your instructions well enough. Thanks so much if you read all of this.

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

You're really pulling and stretching at the INFP functions to try to make them fit and even ignoring strong counter-evidence, whereas the INFJ functions are a much more natural fit. You seem to have a long journey of function development ahead of you but I believe Ni+Fe lie at the heart of the project rather than Fi+Ne. As such, I would conclude your type is INFJ with a high degree of confidence.

[punkclowngod]

do u have any tips for someone who thinks they might have hpd?

ive been reading some posts from ppl w hpd and realizing some of my experiences align w theirs (extreme sensitivity to rejection, remaking my whole personality to be liked by someone, struggling to stay true to own morals when around others) and like 8|

some of the coping mechanisms people have mentioned for it look really helpful but idk. would it be weird to use those if im not even sure i have it

i think you’re already doing the right thing (looking at posts from people who have it, it’s always better to judge yourself based on others’ experiences instead of a checklist made by someone who doesn’t have it), and if you see coping mechanisms that seem helpful, you have every right to try them!

finding out you have a disorder can take a lot of time and it’s often super stressful, but it doesn’t matter what you end up having, if something helps, you’re allowed to do it. the symptoms you experience are real and you don’t need a diagnosis to learn how to cope with them.

as for tips, honestly keeping a journal about your thoughts and feelings about having HPD is something that might help a lot, keep track of your symptoms, your moods, your way of acting with others compared to when alone, etc. no rules, just noting whatever comes to mind and without worrying about having to prove anything. it helps untangle the brain and since you have no audience it also helps being completely truthful. that’s what i did (and still am doing) with my OSDD questioning and it helped immensely. the important part is that you do not lie in the journal. that’s the only rule. you can change how you write, how you layout your page, how you date the page, etc anytime you note something new, as long as you’re being truthful. note your doubts, your certainties, how they compare, things like that! also what’s important to remember is that your goal for this journal is to observe yourself not convince yourself or anyone you have HPD. it’s not a thesis, it’s not a homework, it’s not a debate. they’re just personal observations. personally i refuse to read the pages of my journal so i don’t influence myself for the next time i write, so what i end up writing is more natural and less thought of than if i read my old pages, but that’s just me, you don’t have to do this, just do whatever works for you.

another tip would be to try doing or even just thinking about things a histrionic wouldn’t do. for example, i can’t go out without being super dressed up or it makes me incredibly depressed. the thought of going out without flashy clothes and over-the-top makeup makes me feel small and humiliated. for another example, how long can you last in a conversation where you’re not the subject or main speaker? i space out after about a minute and become painfully bored after maybe two minutes. depending on who i’m with i might just leave or scream or even blatantly ask if we can start talking about me, but those are just the people i’m comfortable with. you can try putting yourself in situations that would make people with HPD uncomfortable/unwell (without actually endangering yourself) to see and mesure how it makes you feel. and remember the examples i gave are not universal. compare how you feel with many other histrionics, everyone’s experiences are different and varied.

there’s also a histrionic subreddit, it can always be helpful to skim through it if you haven’t already!

and again, a reminder that if it helps you have every right to use it! manage your symptoms not the overall disorder, disorders are too broad and varied, choose the coping mechanisms that align with your symptoms, there’s no use trying coping mechanisms for symptoms that don’t affect you. this is about you personally, never the disorder. we don’t have a hive mind, we’re all different, so it’s really all coming down to what helps you and how you can feel better. some things will help, some things will make it worse, it’s a long process but it’s a process worth doing

[ninyard]

Could you write something with a Nicky & Kevin friendship or just supporting each other, set at any point during the series

you know what anon I don’t think I’ve ever genuinely thought about Nicky n Kevin’s friendship before ?? But! What a fantastic friendship it is!!!! I think there’s a pretty pivotal moment in the series of their relationship, but obligatory CW for The Raven King Chapter 11 (the thanksgiving dinner) before we get into it

First of all I think when Kevin first arrived in PSU, and when he was staying with Abby, still healing his broken hand, Nicky was the only fox except for Andrew who visited him regularly? Even Andrew didn’t really “visit” at that point, but Nicky was the only one who pro-actively wanted to see how Kevin was doing, instead of asking Wymack or Abby or gossiping between the team. It was probably in part because Nicky LOVES breaking a good story, but mostly it was because of the fact Nicky is such a genuinely kind person? He knew how alone Kevin must’ve felt after being essentially banished from his “family”, with no future in sight or a will to live, really. So Nicky showed up. He always brought a gift, and even though Kevin didn’t really speak much and really seemed to hate Nickys fast, drama-filled way of speaking, he never told Nicky to leave.

When Andrew came along and took Kevin under his wing, that kind of drove a wedge in between any semblance of relationship they could’ve had. It was Andrew And Kevin, and that was it. Andrew didn’t see a point in leaving room for Nicky in that. But Kevin never forgot what Nicky did for him, and even though they’re practically opposite types of people, Kevin and Nicky never had beef, like literally ever. Nicky tried flirting seriously with him once, but Kevin scrunched up his nose and shook his head and for the first time Nicky didn’t persist. They really just had this unspoken respect for each other, but their relationship was never really much more than that. Whereas Kevin’s relationship with Andrew was a joined-by-the-hip kind of deal, Kevin and Nicky more so looked out for each other in the smallest ways. When Nicky sprained his wrist during practice the end of freshman year, Kevin was there for him to show him the best ways to move it to build his strength back up and to take care of it so it could heal properly. When Nicky was struggling with some type of homework on the bus to a game, Kevin would peek over his shoulder and nonchalantly point out the answers. When Kevin was starting to play again, Nicky always offered to play defence to help him regain his strength against an opponent.

But you know, as soon as you mention Nicky and Kevin my head INSTANTLY goes to the aftermath of Chapter 11 in TRK. Like, Kevin had to go downstairs after finding that situation, and presumably Nicky had no real idea. So Nicky looks in the Kitchen window, while talking to his mom about nothing, and he sees Neil and Aaron head out of the kitchen. He watches Kevin follow. It’s not long before Luther is back outside with a look on his face that says nothing good, and then Nicky sees Kevin. He’s on the phone, chewing at his fingernails, face white like he’d seen a ghost. He leaves the table, overhearing Kevin reciting his parents’ address and they lock eyes when he enters the room. Kevin’s eyebrows are knitted together like he’s about to cry. He puts a hand out when Nicky tries to push past him. It takes him a minute to hang up, and suddenly Nicky’s heart is racing and he’s desperate to go upstairs. Kevin can’t find the words.

“Andrew’s hurt.” The words don’t do it justice. It feels like a lie coming out his mouth. “Nicky,” he tries to push past again. “I don’t know if you should go up there.” Nicky turns back to see his mom and dad watching them. They look like they’re about to follow. Nicky asks if he called the police or an ambulance. Kevin says both.

“Who hurt him?” Nicky doesn’t know what to say. He can hear the mumble of voices upstairs.

“I don’t know.” Kevin’s voice is almost a whisper. “There’s so much blood.” And then Nicky shoves him out of the way and suddenly Kevin’s following him up the stairs and Nicky’s reaching out to hold Andrew’s face, Neil holding a blanket around his presumably naked bottom half. Kevin nearly got sick at the sight again. He’d seen enough blood in the nest, he’d seen enough rapes and tortures and beatings and dead bodies, but this was so much worse. This was messy, this was family, this was Andrew’s abuser killed at the hands of his brother, blood on the wall of Nicky’s childhood bedroom.

So Andrew and Neil leave in the ambulance, Kevin and Nicky left to take a taxi to the police station, waiting for Aaron who left in cuffs, waiting to give their statement. They don’t say much, but Kevin puts a hand on Nicky’s shoulder when he finally cries, and leaves his own shoulder free as a place to cry on. They’re told to leave without Aaron and they’re left alone again in Columbia, waiting for David to bring Andrew home safe. Neither of them have much of an appetite to eat, and it’s a while before either of them speak.

“Did you see it happen?” Nicky is staring at a wall, hands wringing around the end of a pillowcase. “Did you watch him die?”

“No,” Kevin fought off another panic attack that crept up his throat. “Did you know who he was?”

They skirted around the topic, afraid that if they said what really happened, it would be real, it would be unfixable. But Kevin knew Nicky needed him, until somebody else came back. Can you even imagine how much Nicky must’ve been in shock? I don’t think he even called Erik until the next day, you know. The only person he spoke about it with was Kevin, and when Betsy arrived he cried with her for ten minutes before a car was pulling up and he knew it was Andrew. Kevin and Nicky had never spent so much to me alone, but there was a strange comfort in the air. Kevin was the rock that Nicky needed, and Nicky was the distraction Kevin needed. Kevin wasn’t a hugger, really, but when Nicky asked to be held, he pulled him into his chest and didn’t let go until he was ready. They both comforted each other that night, but they never spoke about it again. Nobody else had to know that they’d practically broken down in each other arms, half in shock, half processing the trauma they’d just witnessed. Nicky had never been exposed to something like that before; Kevin knew it was a life-changing event for him. Nicky didn’t have any sort of ideas of superiority about his relationship to Andrew, either. He knew how much Andrew meant to Kevin, how he had walked in to see his protector so vulnerable, so hurt. He knew Kevin had to say that word down the phone to the operator, and how he had to say it to Coach, too. And he had to say it again and again and again to the cops in the station.

I know it’s an extreme example of their friendship, but I think a lot of it goes unspoken. That night was the night where their respect for each other became physical, and visible. It became more than just nods across a court or a pat on the shoulder after a good game. They were all they had that night. Just Kevin and Nicky, alone for god knows how long, just waiting, trying to keep it together. They each took a shot of whatever spirit they could find before Betsy arrived, and nobody had to know about that either. They coped in their own ways after that, but it really solidified how much they cared about each other, I think. Kevin texted Nicky for the first time that week, a couple different times, just to see if he was okay, how he was doing, if he needed anything. And oh man, did that mean the absolute world to him. Kevin and Nicky’s relationship is probably one of the more unexpectedly close relationships in the series, when I think about it. They didn’t experience what happened that night in the way Andrew or Neil or Aaron did, but the way they looked out for each other when both their worlds came screeching to a halt in the upstairs bedroom in a house that was no longer home? Unmatched.

There’s definitely softer/“fluffier”/funnier instances of them being friends but my mind couldn’t NOT let me write about this cos it was all I could think about SORRYYYY

[deniigi]

sorry to bother again but i am a freshman in college and i am v stressed

how did you get through it and how do I make myself not want to drop every single class i’m in every semester

how does one take more than 5 classes at a time

i am in midterm hell and i am Scared™️

oh you mean, ‘Matt, please do your actual literal job on main?’ Because this is sort of my actual literal job, friend. So don’t worry. I’ve got you.

So first thing’s first, when planning future semesters:

I would recommend against taking more than 5 classes at a time. Mathematically, it is not great for you. If you have to take more than 5, plan on doing 1-2 to during summer school. You won’t be behind. You’re fine. I swear.

Example for future class planning: For every class, look at the number of units/credits it is. That is around the number of hours that you’re gonna spend in that class a week. Now multiply that by 2. That’s about the number of hours total you’re gonna spend on that class in a week (both in class and doing homework).

That means that a 3 unit/credit class = 6 hours of work per week.

You have five of those classes. That means that you’re doing around 30hrs of school work a week. If you have six of those classes, you’re practically working a fulltime job with little to no pay and benefits.

End story: Do not take more than 5 classes a semester if you can help it.

If you can, don’t take more than 4 classes in your major per semester, either. You will die. Use electives and general education classes as your fourth or fifth class to lighten your load and give yourself something that you enjoy and know you can pass for sure. That will give you some breathing room and will help you maintain your GPA.

Coping with Overload now:

At this point in the semester, it’s a little late to be dropping classes, so what you’re going to do instead is to schedule the fuck out of your time.

You need to pick and stick to set dates/times for completing coursework and midterm projects for the next week or two. People do this in different ways, but generally speaking, people will assign projects/homework to certain days.

Example: Monday is Chemistry homework night because assignments are due on Wednesday. You only work on Chemistry on Monday. You finish the assignment and turn it in.

Tuesday is English homework day because assignments are papers and take 3 days to complete due to requiring 3 different steps: research, outlining, and writing. You do the whole researching process on Tuesday and do a basic outline. You will fill out the outline a little more on Wednesday and will then write the whole paper on Thursday so that you can turn it in then, before the Friday deadline.

On Wednesday, after you’re satisfied with your English outline, you will set that aside because Wednesdays are Math days. You will do the Math homework and/or study for 2-3 hours until your brain feels like soup. Then you will stop, do something relaxing for 30min, and then decide if you need to do more studying. If you do, repeat the study + self-care process. Go to sleep at a reasonable hour (before 2am if possible)

Do the same thing for your other 2 classes, assigning each a day and a specific task or set of tasks to complete on each day. Don’t give yourself more than 3 tasks per class/study session, because that’s how you get overwhelmed and into an anxiety spiral.

Apply self-care (breaks, snacks, drinks, music) liberally while doing assignments.

Other tips: figure out how you study.

If you study best in a group, grab some folks from your class and form a study group. If you are in STEM especially, it is expected that you will form study groups. This is how studying happens in STEM, medical, and law fields. It is nigh impossible to do all that labor on your own. Yes, I am serious. Make a study group, even if that’s you and 1 other person.

If you can find a study guide, take it to study group or block out an hour or two and do the whole thing. If you don’t have a study guide, make one yourself out of your homework/assignments and test yourself with flashcards or writing out definitions and forcing yourself to explain the different parts of cycles you learned in class.

If you are in a humanities/liberal arts major, you need to figure out if you study best by reviewing your notes, by re-listening to the lectures, by explaining concepts to others, or by writing it all out as if it was an essay.

If you need to write an essay and are stuck with where to start, reach out for help from a tutor if your school has one, or just start by doing 15 minutes of brainstorming to figure out what you feel about the topic and what evidence/ideas would work to answer it. Pick apart the prompt to see what it is truly asking you to do, write out the components of the prompt separately on a separate page and start answering those question as if they were short answers.

Then when you’ve got that, you can start noting bits of evidence to add to support your points and BAM, just like that, you’ve got an outline. Write a thesis statement at the top that addresses the Who, What, Why and How You’re Going to Prove it of your essay and you’re ready to go.

Example thesis statement: “The world represented in Oh God, How do I Study by Matt Deniigiq includes references to time management, course planning, and big-picture thinking to emphasize the broader theme that this one shit semester is not going to destroy student’s lives. This is evident in the droll humor used throughout the piece and the fact that the author keeps halting in paragraphs to answer emails from frazzled students.”

**yes, your thesis can be 2 sentences long. It’s allowed, I promise.

Know that these 5 classes will not end your life.

Honestly, like, speaking as someone who does this for a living, at public schools anything higher than a C is grand. It’s not usually required for you to list your GPA on job apps later on (I’ve never been asked). No one actually cares about your GPA in social situations.

As long as my students have higher than Cs in their classes and they aren’t like, nursing students, I’m cool with their progress, so give yourself a break if you can.

Also know that getting a low grade in 1 class as a freshmen doesn’t actually fuck up your GPA as bad as you think it will. Like, there’s a lot of complicated shit around this that I could go into, but generally speaking, if you fail one class (and I mean FAIL-fail it. Fs and D-s. None of this ‘UwU I got a C so I failed’), then by the time you’re a junior or a senior, if you haven’t failed additional shit, that F/D- is barely going to shift your GPA.

Like, we’re talking .1 shifts around then. Maybe a .3 shift if you’re at the end of your sophomore year. That’s the diff between a 2.5 and a 2.4. Or a 3.3 and a 3.0. You can make that up almost entirely by taking another round of classes and getting As and Bs (again, the mechanics are complicated, so you’re just gonna have to take my word here).

So yeah, shoot for Cs or higher and know that these classes aren’t the end-all be-alls of your lives.

(For context, if I get a student with a 3.0 or higher, I’m fucking ELATED. I’m not even joking. Y’all will be fine.) 

--

Start with these tips and get back to me if you want something more specific. I do this all day, every day.

[mostlycompetentwriter]

TMT One-Shot

F/M Pairing: Y/N x 3racha (Stray Kids)

Word Count: 8K

Genre: High School AU

Warnings: Lots of smut and language; mentions of alcohol

Summary: Y/N is the shy, awkward girl who can’t talk to boys while doing her best to exist as a shadow throughout her high school life. Her two brothers, Minho and Felix, are the complete opposite. Minho is the cool, suave music addict who wants to be in his own band one day, while Felix is the stereotypical popular kid whose best friend, Han Jisung, tirelessly trails after his friend’s older sister. However, despite their differences, the three siblings share a very close relationship and Y/N considers them to be her only real friends. 

One day, Minho brings home two classmates from his community college and Y/N realizes, for the very first time, that the sweet taste of desire is highly addictive.

When my mother died, I was only 10-years-old. She slipped away like a ghost, quietly and without notice, and I was left feeling broken on the inside. If I was a therapist, unlike the contemptuous older woman who always spoke to me with a condescending tone, I’d likely attribute the traumatic event to the person I started to become. 

Instead of bouncing back from her death like my brothers Minho and Felix, I started to feel sad all the time. Accordingly, I lost many of the friends I met in Elementary school because I chose to sit quietly in my classes when I didn't feel like talking to anyone else. Likewise, I also declined their invitations to visit their houses or ride with their parents to the movie theaters. Actually, I exchanged those friendships for the solitude of my bedroom at home where I usually spent the evening staring vacantly at the ceiling while trying not to cry anymore.

Yeah, I guess it was kinda my fault.

Overtime, my status evolved from the kind, amiable Y/N who everyone at school admired, to the sullen and despondent weird girl who sometimes spoke to imaginary friends. I spent recesses inside with my teachers, helping them clean the whiteboard. During lunch, I sat alone with my school tray and thought about how my mother used to pack my lunches for me because I complained about the mystery meatloaf....Oh, right, thinking about my mother inevitably made me feel sad again and sometimes I cried at school in front of my classmates. 

Needless to say, my youth wasn’t exactly as voracious as my peers...or even my brothers for that matter. Actually, Minho and Felix were perfectly normal because they mourned our mother’s death for several months before inexplicably moving on as if it had never happened. Thereafter, Minho developed a passion for music and my father allowed him to take guitar and piano lessons after school. Felix started to play sports and he was quite good at baseball despite his smaller stature. Likewise, in between classes, I heard my classmates frequently gossiping about my brothers: mysterious and alluring Minho who all the older girls adored, and popular and beloved Felix who was the envy of our classmates. 

I didn’t mind being considered an outsider in comparison to my brothers because they still treated me like a friend. In fact, my brothers and I were extremely close, especially after our mother’s death. Despite my introverted tendencies, Minho and Felix often went out of their way to include me in their activities. For example, Minho liked to offer his demos as background music for the raunchier parties in our town and he always begged me to come along and hear his new songs. My older brother was so incredibly talented that I rarely refused his offers, finding myself sitting next to Felix in the backseat of Minho’s car while we drove across town to the wealthier districts. I would spend the rest of the night hanging around my brothers while listening to Minho sing about everything from his ex-girlfriends to the pot he liked to smoke with some of the younger guys.

In any case, I could always count on my brothers to liven my spirits, which might explain why I was so uncomfortable when Minho graduated and applied for University. It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing because Minho was only driving thirty minutes everyday to attend his classes and he still lived at home. But it still felt like an unwanted change, and I wasn’t sure how to cope with my brother’s sudden desire to build a studio in the basement of our childhood home while he brought new classmates to fawn over his equipment.

Thankfully, I managed to avoid the unfamiliar faces, and I started spending more time with Felix. Unfortunately, spending time with Felix inevitably forced me to endure the endless pandering from some of his more unsavory acquaintances. For example, when I wanted to play video games one afternoon, I knocked twice on Felix’s door only to find myself in the company of someone who was decidedly the complete opposite of my brother. His name was Han Jisung, and he was Felix’s best friend. “Y/N,” he said quietly, sheepishly attempting to fix the mop on top of his head. “How are you?”

“Fine,” I said, glancing over Jisung’s shoulder. “Where’s Felix?”

“Bathroom,” Jisung said, pointing at the door. 

I groaned. “Are you busy?”

“We’re never too busy for you,” Jisung smirked, but he always flirted with me shamelessly as if he didn’t care that I was Felix’s older sister.

I ignored Jisung when I walked into Felix’s bedroom, finding a relatively clean spot on his bed to wait for his return. In the meantime, Jisung lingered by the doorway, watching me with those ridiculous dark eyes. “I heard Minho made another demo.”

“He’s always making demos,” I replied, wondering why Felix was determined to take his time for once.

“Yeah, but he’s really proud of this one.”

“Minho thinks he’s a genius,” I said. “If you were to ask him, then every song he made would be a masterpiece.”

“Well, he’s the reason why I've started to pursue music.”

“You?” I scoffed, finding the idea of Jisung as a creator of anything other than enormous messes on the kitchen counter to be nothing short of hilarious. “Jisung, you can’t even finish your math homework.”

“That’s not true!” Jisung protested. “It’s just not that interesting, and I like music so it shouldn’t be a problem.”

“You’ll find something else to like in a few months,” I said, watching as he frowned with that ridiculous pout he always wore when he wasn’t getting his way.

“Yeah? Well, when my first mixtape comes out,” Jisung grumbled. 

“I’ll be the first one asking for an autograph,” I teased him, rolling my eyes when he sat next to me and held up his pinky finger.

“Promise?”

“Fine,” I sighed before trying to move further away from Jisung.

He didn’t allow the space for very long, sliding right up against me without any traces of his previous frustrations. “Y/N,” Jisung said, hand reaching out for my shoulder. “There’s a party this Friday.”

“I’m not in the mood for a party,” I said. “I have a lot of homework this weekend, and-”

“Actually, Minho invited us,” Felix interrupted, and I didn’t even realize that my brother had returned. I was also surprised to see Minho behind him, stretching his arms above his head like he had forgotten to sleep again last night.

“You’re going too?” I asked Minho.

“It’s Chan’s party,” Minho explained. “He’s playing some of my demo tracks.”

“Bang Chan,” I repeated, narrowing my eyes because I had heard my brother mention that name dozens of times. Actually, if I didn’t know any better, then I would think Minho had some kind of infatuation with his new college friend.

“I think Minho is in love,” Felix teased, dodging Minho’s playful swing before he joined Jisung and I on the edge of his bed.

“He’s just a friend from one of my lectures,” Minho said. 

“Minho also thinks he’s a genius,” Felix whispered to me, but it was loud enough for our brother to overhear. 

“You like him too,” Minho protested.

“Felix met him?”

“Last week,” Felix beamed. “Minho and I ran into him on the way to get coffee. Your lazy ass was still asleep at 12:00.”

“Shut up,” I grumbled. “I stayed up late to finish an essay.”

“College will kick your ass, Y/N,” Minho said. “If you can’t survive high school literature...”

“I get it,” I groaned. “I don’t want another lecture.”

“Good, but you’re still coming to the party because I want you to meet Chan and hear your brother’s masterpiece.”

“Please stop calling your mixtape a masterpiece.”

“I’ll consider it,” Minho smirked, “as long as I see you at Chan’s house this Friday.”

“This is considered blackmail, Minho,” I sighed. “But fine, I’ll need the time and address, please.”

I stood on the porch in the frigid cold wearing a party dress that might’ve been overkill, and I had a desire to return to my house because nobody was answering the door. Actually, when I really thought about it, this complex was too nice for a college student, unless Chan had discovered Blackbeard’s treasure or something. I snorted at my own joke, waiting impatiently for someone to let me inside because my brothers weren’t responding to my text messages. 

The music sounded faint from behind the door, which made me wonder if Minho had given me the wrong address. It wouldn’t be the first time that my brother gave me some kind of misinformation, but I thought he really wanted me to come tonight and hear his music. “Hello!” I yelled, banging my fist against the door. “Minho? I’m leaving in exactly ten seconds if nobody lets me inside!”

I started the countdown in my head, jumping up and down to warm my muscles, when a sudden expulsion of heat relieved the tension slowly numbing my fingers. “There you are,” Felix said with a drunken smile.

“Isn’t too early for you to be plastered?”

Felix giggled. “They’re playing Minho’s music next.”

“Well, let me inside you asshole,” I said, pushing my way into the house because my brother had clearly forgotten that it was basically snowing outside.

“What do you think?” Felix asked. “It’s pretty nice.”

“I can’t see anything,” I complained, narrowing my eyes since it was difficult to notice the details when the house was packed wall to wall with intoxicated college students. The lights were also dimmed, which meant that walking was an unnecessary chore as Felix took my hand and brought me into the kitchen where he promised Minho was waiting.

At least he wasn’t fully incapable. 

“Y/N,” Minho grinned, tossing an arm around my shoulder as he pulled me closer, allowing me to smell the nasty liquor on his breath.

“Drunk at your mixtape reveal party?”

Minho laughed. “I haven’t had much.”

“Felix has,” I said, grimacing when I spotted my younger brother bouncing from person to person with an unmaintainable energy.

“Let him have fun,” Minho said. “I’m keeping an eye on him.”

“Whatever, but he’s your responsibility in the morning when he’s suffering from a hangover.”

“I’ll handle it,” Minho reassured me. “Anyway, there’s someone I want you to meet.”

“Oh?”

“Chan! Get your ass over here!”

“What a good friend you are,” I remarked, and I was fully prepared to tease my brother further until I realized that Minho was waving down one of the most attractive men I had ever seen.

Chan was absolutely gorgeous, appearing nothing short of debauched under the low-hanging lights of the kitchen. Neatly styled blonde-hair parted down the middle, and bright blue eyes that held the stars inside an endless sea of black. “Are you guys having fun?” he asked with an accent that I couldn’t place.

“The place is fucking awesome, man,” Minho said, wrapping an arm around Chan’s shoulders as he nodded in my direction. “This is my sister,” Minho said with a proud smile. 

“Hello,” I said, cringing at my tone.

“Y/N,” Chan smiled, and I decided that nobody could ever say my name again with such a sexy tenor.

“You have a lovely home,” I said, swallowing hard when Chan leaned in closer. 

“Minho talks about you a lot,” Chan said with a smirk. “Do you want something to drink?”

I nodded without thinking, keeping my eyes trained on his beautiful visage as a beer slipped into my hand. “Pace yourself,” Minho warned me, but I ignored him as I swallowed down the bile-tasting liquid.

“I like her,” Chan nodded, looking at me seductively from over the top of his bottle.

“She’s a bit uptight,” Minho chuckled, and I glared at him because this was not the time to embarrass me. “Are my songs playing next?”

“I’ll make sure everything is ready,” Chan said, giving me one last lingering look.

“Let’s find a good place to hear everything,” Minho suggested, and I followed my brother with thoughts and fantasies consumed by Bang Chan.

Minho’s mixtape was really good, and I begrudgingly congratulated my brother and even allowed him to tell everyone that it was, in fact, a masterpiece. However, while my brother was distracted by a group of younger fan-girls, I slipped away to try and find somewhere peaceful to recover from my headache. It had developed sometime between the pounding bass line of “BEWARE” and the aggressive tone of “Boxer.” 

I paused next to the foyer where there were considerably less people. In fact, only one student lingered next to the open window, and I leaned against the wall as I closed my eyes against the distinct ringing in my ears. Next time, I would wear earplugs when Minho forced me to stand at the speakers.

“You’re not going to pass out, right?”

I blinked several times as the room swam into focus. “I’ll probably make it.”

“There’s a bathroom upstairs,” the rough voice continued, and I finally addressed the hooded figure standing at the window. I realized that he was smoking, holding the bud of the cigarette outside so that the ashes collected somewhere on the porch. “I’m Changbin,” he smirked. 

“Oh,” I cleared my throat. “Do you mind if I share the window?”

He shrugged, tossing his hood back so that I could see the way his black hair fell flat against his head. “Sure.”

I carefully felt my way along the wall until the generous cold breeze was hitting my flushed skin. “Thank god,” I groaned, practically forcing my head outside.

“Drink too much?”

“A combination of that and the music.”

“I heard a rumor that the beer was definitely spiked,” he said, dark eyes looking me over. “You’re obviously new here.”

“I’m with my brother,” I offered cautiously in response to his sudden advances.

“Do I know him?”

“Lee Minho.”

Changbin’s eyes widened. “We’re in the same music composition lecture. I thought he mentioned you in class.”

“He invited me,” I continued, but I didn’t understand why I felt the need to justify myself to him.

“I bet he did,” Changbin nodded. “Why would he hide you from us?”

I shivered. “I’m sure he’ll be back soon.”

“Is that right?” he asked before cornering me against the wall with a hungry gaze. “You hear the song playing?”

I nodded. “It’s loud.”

Changbin chuckled. “I made it.”

I nodded again because that certainly explained the explicit lyrics. “It’s...interesting?”

“Yeah?” Changbin purred. “Do you like it?”

“I do,” I gasped, feeling one of his hands grab me around the waist.

His lips brushed against mine, soft and sensual, while he inhaled deeply. “Y/N, is this your first party?”

“No,” I whispered because it suddenly felt like we were the only two people left in the room.

“I just assumed,” he said. “From the way you’re reacting.”

“W-what?”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that you wanted to go someplace else with me,” Changin said.

I was completely baffled by his assumption, searching for the right words, but they never came. However, the distinct sound of someone clearing their throat forced us apart, and I was surprised to see Chan standing so close. “I guess you’ve met Minho’s little sister,” Chan said and I hated how immature the introduction sounded. 

“She made sure to tell me,” Changbin smirked. “I can’t believe we haven’t met before.”

“He’s looking for her,” Chan continued, and I was confused by the hostility in his tone. “You probably shouldn’t do anything.”

“Wasn’t gonna,” Changbin retorted, planting one of his hands next to my head. “She’s feeling sick. Tell Minho I can take her home.”

“He won’t like that.”

“Oh? Is anyone else sober?”

Chan was quiet for a moment, eyes darting between the two of us. “Wait here.”

“What a good host,” Changbin snarked, but Chan was already walking away and I was starting to feel the effects of my alcoholic consumption darken the edges of my vision.

My brother was nothing short of incoherent, swaying back against Chan as he tried to give me a stern look. “Y/N, I hope you didn’t drink too much.”

“Really?” I snorted. “Isn’t that hypocritical?”

Of course, my admonishment had no effect on Minho. “Chan said that you were feeling sick.”

“It’s just a headache,” I said, although my churning stomach seemed to suggest otherwise.

“I thought I could take Y/N home,” Changbin interrupted. “I guess she could use some fresher air.”

“Sure,” Minho nodded, eyes glassy. “I don’t mind.”

Minho was readily willing to entrust his sister into the care of someone she had just met, and that’s when I knew that he couldn’t be trusted to take me anywhere. “Is that what you want?” Chan asked.

I shrugged because it might be nice to finally escape the endless drumming of Chan’s intricate sound system. “I might be saving myself some trouble.”

“I need more cigarettes,” Changbin said. “I’m running low and I know there’s a store near Minho’s house.

I frowned, but figured that Minho had brought Changbin over to our house before during that brief phase at the start of his college semester when I saw a new face in the basement every week. “I think that’s a good idea.”

“As long as you behave,” Chan warned him quietly, but I never had the opportunity to question him before Changbin was forcing us both outside onto the main porch where the snow was starting to build along the sidewalks.

“This way,” Changbin said, resting one of his hands against my lower back as he guided us down the street.

Changbin’s car was a very old model and the paint was starting to peel from the doors. He helped me inside slowly, reaching for my seat-belt before I slapped his hands out of the way because I could manage to do that by myself. He chuckled at my glare. “Comfortable?”

I nodded in response and waited for him to turn on the ignition before I was savoring the accompanying blast of heat even though it smelled distinctly of ashes. “Minho’s little sister,” Changbin said, eyes focused on the road in front of him. “Are you feeling better?”

“Yeah,” I replied because the growing distance between us and Chan’s party music was actually nice. “I guess the music gave me a headache.”

“That’s how Chan likes it,” Changbin said. “He’s gotten at least a dozen noise complaints from this past month alone.”

“How many parties does he have!”

Changbin smirked. “He likes to keep his house full.”

“It might’ve been too much tonight,” I said, leaning my head against the cold window. “I’ve never seen so many people.”

“Exams,” Changbin said. “When college students feel stressed, they like to get shitfaced.”

“But you’re not drunk.”

“Who said that I was stressed?”

His tone was strangely flirtatious, especially when he looked at me. “You didn’t have to help me, you know?”

“I know, but it was my window we were sharing,” Changbin said. “You looked like you were seconds away from crashing.”

“I can take care of myself,” I replied, even though it was rather harsh to criticize someone who was currently neglecting the speed limit to take my home as quickly as possible. “When did you meet Minho?”

“A few weeks ago,” Changbin said. “We worked on a project together.”

“I guess you’ve already been to my house.”

“Yeah, but I sure as hell don’t remember seeing you.”

“I don’t really like to socialize with most of my brother’s friends.” 

“Well, that explains a lot,” Changbin said, briefly glancing at me. “Are you that type? The unattainable girl next door?”

“I just don’t like people,” I grumbled, but Changbin seemed to think it was funny, laughing at my expense while reaching down to turn on the radio despite the fact that music had caused my headache in the first place.

Of course, I didn’t want to be that type, so I endured his self-promotion, listening to his gravelly voice suspend the entire car into some kind of hip-hip haven. He talked his way through the introductions of every song on his mixtapes, bragging about his compositions and arrangements. “It’s all about authenticity,” he explained when we finally pulled into my driveway.

“Is that so?” I sighed, frowning when I realized Felix had forgotten to turn on the front porch light.

“I guess I should wait until you’re inside,” Changbin chuckled.

“Thanks,” I said, reaching out for the door handle.

“Woah! Baby, where are you going?” Changbin asked, and I quickly returned my hands to my lap. “Are you trying to get away from me?”

“No,” I shook my head, breathing heavily when he reached for my thigh.

“You probably don’t hear this a lot,” Changbin continued. “But you’re really sexy.”

I startled at his words. “Thank you?”

“I mean it, Y/N,” he continued, fingers inching along my thigh like it was free real estate. “Thank god you wanted to share my window.”

I shook my head rapidly when he turned off the ignition, navigating the waistband of his panties to drag his hand against my sensitive core. “What are you doing?” I whispered.

“I’m trying to make you feel good,” he said. “Do you want me to?”

I nodded this time, waiting with my fists balled against the leather seats while he penetrated the soft walls of my core, moving in and out slowly to help me adjust to his fingers. I tried to relax, dropping my shoulders and controlling the way I was panting in desperation for more of the addicting feeling he was creating in my lower abdomen. It all felt entirely scandalous, feeling the way his fingers dragged across my insides, curling against the most responsive parts and watching me with an intensity that I could barely tolerate. I was moaning for him, calling his name softly because he was starting to increase his movements, and I focused on the way his wrist reappeared from underneath my skirt before losing itself in a sea of denim fabric.

“It’s wet,” he remarked, and the sounds of his penetration were growing louder, intermingling with my rapid breaths and the dark tone of his voice. “I can feel it.”

I knew what he meant because my entire body was pulsing in time to the pace in which he played with me. It was like I was his personal experiment, testing how I reacted to certain touches, especially when he crooked his fingers and a moan would displace the temporary quiet. “Changbin,” I whined, reaching for his arm because everything was starting to feel overwhelming.

“I got you,” he said. “You’ve been so good for me, Y/N, I’m not gonna stop until you cum.”

I orgasmed at his filthy words, falling down from the place he sent me and into a deep headspace. He pulled his fingers back, holding them up so that I could clearly see the evidence of my release in the faint light from the street lamp outside. “You didn’t expect that,” Changbin said calmly, reaching for a tissue from the backseat while I tried to figure out what just happened. “I don’t really care who your brother is,” he continued, moving in close. “I think we should fuck next time.” 

“Changbin,” I said, “if Minho finds out-”

“Why are you always worried about him?”

“He’s my brother!”

“Oh? Well, in that case, since you want to be good for your older brother,” Changbin smirked. “I guess I’ll have to find a different way to see you again.”

The next morning, I took a shower because I could still feel traces of Changbin’s touches between my thighs. The water was hot, fogging up the mirrors and making it difficult to breathe. It was necessary because I could function better when I re-emerged with fresh clothes and a sudden hunger for those little chocolate muffins my mom bought at the store.

I walked downstairs, noticing Felix and Jisung both sitting at the counter while they talked over their breakfast. Felix noticed me first, watching as I grabbed a leftover pastry from the fridge before leaning back against the cabinets. “Did you have fun last night?” he asked.

I narrowed my eyes, but then I realized that his question was innocent because he definitely didn’t know about Changbin. “It was nice.”

“What are you doing today?”

“I don’t know,” I shrugged. “I haven’t made plans.”

“You can hang out with me and Jisung today,” Felix suggested. “We’re just going for coffee.”

Jisung met my gaze from over the table and he quickly looked away as if he wasn’t expecting the contact. “Yeah,” I nodded. “I could use some coffee.”

It wasn’t often that I accompanied Felix and Jisung when they decided to actually leave the house and my brother’s massive collection of video games. Felix was never the problem, but I could only endure so much of Jisung’s flirtations before I inevitably made another pointless vow to try and ignore him. It was an impossible promise to keep since Felix was practically glued to his hip, and I can’t remember the last time Jisung actually spent the night at his own home.

However, coffee was nice and the taste was bile so it sat heavy on my tongue and provided a good distraction, even if that meant listening to my brother and Felix talk about the party. “I met Chan,” Jisung said. “He was really cool.”

Felix nodded, eyeing his coffee with obvious distaste. “Minho seems to like him.”

“He introduced me to his partner, Changbin,” Jisung continued and I fidgeted nervously at the mention of his name. “Apparently, they do a lot of work together.”

“I’ve heard their stuff,” Felix said, finally pushing away his coffee cup in exchange for his orange juice. “I think they’re really talented.”

“It’s like you’re meeting real professionals,” Jisung gushed and I rolled my eyes. “I let them listen to one of my demos,” Jisung chuckled. “I think they want to work together.”

“Really?” Felix gasped. “That’s amazing!”

“I guess they need another partner,” I remarked, shivering when I thought about my encounter with Changbin from the previous evening.

“You can always come with me to the studio tomorrow,” Jisung said. “If you want.”

The idea of being alone with Jisung wasn’t exactly high on my list of priorities. “I don’t know...”

“Changbin will be there too,” Jisung added. “Minho said he really thought you were cool at the party.”

“I bet he did,” I grumbled.

“Why are you inviting her instead of your best friend?” Felix pouted.

“You said you needed to work on a project,” Jisung reminded him. “Actually, you made me swear to keep away distractions!”

“Alright, fine,” Felix sighed. “You’re right, but that doesn’t mean that I’m okay with it.”

Jisung ignored my brother’s sullen expression. “Y/N? Do you want to come?”

“I guess,” I said, and I had no idea what possessed me to agree with his request until it was too late.

The next morning, I met Jisung outside of the address he had sent to my phone with several rather inappropriate emojis. I made sure to scold him for the messages, but he was far too excited, ignoring my complaints when he started talking about the new project he was working on with Chan and Changbin. “Come on,” he said, holding open the door as I walked inside the tiny lobby of the simple two-story building. “We’re on the top floor,” Jisung smirked as if that was something to brag about considering the condition of the worn-down warehouse they were using as a studio.

However, I knew that he was excited, so I feigned a smile as he continued talking about the building’s intricate history while we walked up the staircase to pause outside of a studio room. “Is this it?” I asked.

He nodded, reaching for the door handle. “They should be inside.”

True to his word, Chan and Changbin were standing together in front of a large computer monitor, turning around when they heard me and Jisung enter the room together. “There you are,” Chan said, but his gaze was strangely focused on me.

“We have some stuff for you to hear,” Changbin said, stretching his arms above his head. “I need some coffee first.”

“There’s a gas station down the road,” Jisung said. “I’ll go with you?”

Changbin looked at me for a moment before agreeing to Jisung’s proposal. “We’ll have plenty of time to work when we get back.”

“You’re in for a surprise, Jisung,” Chan said. “Actually, while the two of you are gone, maybe Y/N could look at some of the tracks?”

“Really?” I asked, surprised that he would be so willing to share, but he was already dragging me down into the desk chair, pulling me closer to the monitor.

“You can take you time and browse,” he said, joining Jisung and Changbin at the door.

They started talking about something else, but I was too busy admiring the vast number of tracks listened in sequential order on Chan’s computer. Despite how I might feel about Changbin, it was impossible to deny that their work was impressive, spreading across years of effort. It felt like I was being allowed an intimate glimpse of the artists who were growing more popular everyday.

“Try to be back in twenty minutes,” Chan said, and I watched Jisung and Changbin leave together, whispering in low tones while Chan shut the door behind them. “Your music is really good,” I said, scrolling through the library of his songs. It only made him that much more appealing when I could see the evidence of his passion.

“Are we going to stop playing games, Y/N?”

I frowned at his question, turning around in the chair. “What do you mean?”

Chan smirked, and I realized that it wasn’t playful. “Do you have any idea how fucking gorgeous you are?” he asked.

“Chan...” I trailed off, frozen in place while he slowly leered in my direction, taking several, meaningful steps before he was bracing himself on either side of the desk behind me. 

“Changbin told me about what happened in the car.”

I swallowed hard. “W-what?”

“Is that all it takes? A couple of fingers to satisfy you?”

“Chan, I don’t understand,” I tried, gasping when he picked me up out of the chair, legs wrapping around his waist automatically before he sat me down on the desk.

“Do you want it again?” Chan asked, running his hands alongside my waist before crawling his finger across the bare skin of my thighs, disregarding the thin barrier of my skirt. I felt him press the palm of his hand against my wet heat, fingers testing the edges of my panties. “I can make you feel good.”

The sensation was too much, and I found myself nodding without really thinking about the consequences. “Please.”

His fingers were suddenly penetrating my delicate walls, sliding in and out at a vicious pace that left me aching for something more. “Tell me, Y/N,” Chan demanded, using his thumb to circle my throbbing clitoris. “How does it feel?”

“I want it, Chan,” I moaned, bracing my hands against his firm chest as he continued to pleasure me. Unlike Changbin, I could tell that Chan was determined to make me cum as soon as possible, twisting his hand and jamming his fingers like he was aiming to make me lose my mind. I practically fell against him crying, riding out the waves of my high, while he ignored my whimpers when everything was suddenly feeling overstimulated.

“Come here,” he said, pulling out his fingers before falling against his chair and patting his thighs.

My legs were shaking when Chan helped me onto his lap and I moaned when his fingers crooked against my walls again. “Do you want my cock?” he asked and I nodded viciously, sending strands of my hair flying in all directions. “What a good girl,” he snarled, ripping his fingers away and leaving me whining around the empty space he left behind.

“Chan,” I groaned, resting my head against his shoulder while I watched him make a show out of undoing the belt around his waist, unzipping his skinny jeans before shoving the material down his thighs. His erection strained the silky material of his boxer shorts, and I was practically salivating.

He reached down to rub himself through his shorts, outlining his cock in a way that made me realize that I wasn’t going to leave this studio without an obvious limp. “Y/N,” he said. “Take off your skirt for me.”

I whined, but obeyed him instantly, bracing one hand against his shoulder while the other practically ripped the fine material of the pretty skirt down my legs and into the studio floor. Chan’s eyes darkened, grabbing my waist between his hands to grind the front of my soaked panties against his erection. “Please,” I cried, wanting nothing more than to take matters into my own hands, but Chan’s grip was impossible to break.

“I’m going to fuck this little pussy,” Chan growled. “Can you last long enough for me to come inside?”

“Yes,” I whined, stuttering around a broken sob when he pulled his cock into the studio light, stretching my panties to the side before sinking deep inside my pulsing heat.

“That’s right,” Chan said, eyes closed. “You feel so good.”

“Chan,” I moaned, eye widening when the stretch felt impossible, like he was splitting me open even when common sense told me that it was just my body accommodating to his cock.

His hips slammed into mine, and I could barely reciprocate when he easily overpowered my attempts to meet him somewhere between our bodies. Instead, he took control and I let him have it because he knew exactly what to do before sending me over the edge again, ignoring my cries when he continued to chase his own high, grunting against my ear when he came inside.

“Y/N,” he sighed, keeping me in place despite the fact that his cock was completely flaccid. “Such a good girl.”

I was incoherent and incapable of offering a response in return. Instead, I buried my face into the side of his neck, smelling the scent of his cologne mixed with sweat and the sex polluting the air around us. His body was firm and warm, and I closed my eyes because everything felt like an incredibly lucid dream.

I was still exhausted from the previous afternoon, unable to walk much further than from my bedroom to the living room before the painful reminder of my unexpected session with Chan started to ache between my legs. There was a movie playing on the television, but I was only somewhat focused on the lazy plot and characters. Instead, I was thinking about my interactions with Chan and Changbin, wondering if the two men were playing some sort of mind game with me.

I only managed to tear myself away from those thoughts when I saw Minho as he walked down the stairs with Felix and Jisung talking about something to do with a sports competition. “There you are!” Felix exclaimed. “We were just talking about your visit to the studio with Jisung.”

“I heard you got a tour,” Minho said. “That was nice of them.”

“Yeah,” I agree because there was a lot more to talk about besides the tour of the dilapidated studio.

“I haven’t had a chance to visit,” Minho said. “But they said I could record my new demo there.”

“Another one!” Felix gasped, looking at my brother with wide eyes. “You’re a fucking genius, man.”

“Oh, I know,” Minho smirked. “Actually, I can show you before my first lecture,” Minho said, starting in the direction of his bedroom.

Jisung watched Felix trail behind Minho before he joined me on the couch. “What did you think of the studio?”

I swallowed hard. “It was fine.”

“I think it’s really nice,” Jisung said. “Chan said something making us a permanent trio! He even gave us a name and everything!”

“Oh?”

“3racha,” Jisung giggled. “It’s like a pun-”

“Yeah, I get it,” I sighed impatiently. “I’m trying to watch the movie.”

Jisung was undeterred by the sharp comment, and he buried himself further into the cushions before turning his attention back to the screen.

“Our first show is tomorrow, Y/N,” Jisung giggled, and I finally turned to look at him. “I hope you can watch?”

“Where?”

“It’s a club somewhere downtown. I can send you the address? I know that Chan and Changbin were both insisting that you come.”

“I’m sure they were,” I grumbled, but Jisung was more interested in talking about his contributions to the album. 

“It would mean a lot to me,” he managed after thoroughly explaining their newest concept. “You don’t even have to stay for the whole show.”

“I don’t know...”

“Minho and Felix are coming!” he quickly added, and I wondered if he knew that I would feel more comfortable with my brothers around.

“Okay,” I finally relented, groaning when he started jumping up and down on the couch like an overzealous puppy.

I rode to the club with Minho and Felix who were excitedly chattering about the impending concert while I looked out the window despondently. It felt like a huge risk to show up to the concert considering the recent events concerning my meetings with Chan and Changbin. However, I didn’t want my brothers to be suspicious, so I reluctantly followed them inside where we squeezed together around one of the tables in the middle of an enormous crowd.

The atmosphere was euphoric, draped in a haze of alcohol and the flashing neon lights decorating the stage. It was actually quite civil considering the fact that we were moments away from listening to loud music full of pounding bass and fast rapping. I was half-way convinced that the other guests had no idea what they were actually getting themselves into by coming here tonight.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” an annoucement blared overheard, “please welcome, 3racha!”

The audience started clapping while a familiar melody began softly playing, and the fans around me started to cheer for the three shadowy figures who had suddenly walked onto the stage. “Let’s go!” Chan shouted, beginning his verse of the song which I now recognized as one of the tracks they had played for me at the studio. They were all wearing black, matching the tone and vibe of their music, playing through each track with an infectious energy. However, I was still unnerved because I noticed that they all managed to look at me at some point, even though the crowd, and I was starting to feel hot all over my entire body.

“They’re really good,” Felix remarked, and I nodded in return even though I was finding the table much more interesting.

“Thank you, 3racha!” an overhead announcement said and the audience were rising to their feet in synchrony to offer the artists a round of applause for their stage.

“Jisung sounded amazing!” Felix said as if he couldn’t resist the opportunity to brag about his friend.

“Maybe we can meet them backstage,” Minho suggested, and I halfheartedly protested when my brothers forced me to accompany them.

Subsequently, Minho forced Felix and I to wait by the stage for his friends because he was convinced that I really didn’t have an important project to complete before tomorrow. “You never do anything last minute, Y/N,” he said, smiling when he spotted Chan’s messy hair from the middle of the crowd.

“Hey!” Chan greeted him, accepting Minho’s failed attempt at a cool handshake. Changbin and Jisung followed him, and I couldn’t help but notice how the youngest had started to stumble on his feet. 

“You guys did great,” Minho said, talking extensively about his favorite performance while a sudden bombardment of alcohol hit my senses.

I instantly recoiled, covering my nose when the smell grew stronger. “How much did you drink, Jisung?”

“Not much,” the younger boy slurred, and I noticed that his eyes were distant.

“I’ll grab us more drinks,” Changbin said, giving me a familiar dark look before disappearing into the surrounding crowd.

“He’ll be fine,” Felix said, tossing an arm around Jisung’s shoulder. “You deserve to celebrate tonight, man!”

I tugged on Minho’s sleeve to catch his attention, unwittingly drawing Chan’s gaze at the same time. “I think he’s drunk.”

Minho sighed, ready to launch into one of his world-famous lectures, when he was interrupted by the DJ onstage who confronted Chan. “Hey! We couldn’t find you after the show.”

Chan rolled his eyes. “I was out here the entire time.”

“Well, you need to pick up your CD backstage,” the DJ said. “The owners will throw it out tomorrow.”

“I’ll be right there,” Chan grumbled while glaring at the DJ.

“Now,” the man growled and Chan quietly excused himself with a brittle tone. Meanwhile, I had to help Felix with Jisung because his friend was starting to sway dangerously back and forth.

“He needs to go home,” I sighed, watching as Jisung leaned more of his weight against a much smaller Felix.

“I’d take him, but I already had two beers,” Minho said, looking at Felix expectantly.

“Me!” Felix whined. “But I want to stay.”

“He’s your friend,” I glowered.

“Alright,” Minho groaned. “Y/N, you haven’t had anything to drink and you’re way more responsible than Felix.”

It was easy to meet Minho’s stern gaze since this was the perfect opportunity to finally leave the club. “Fine, I’ll take Jisung home.”

“Then it’s settled,” he agreed, tossing me his spare set of car keys. “Take him to our place.”

“Okay,” I said, groaning when Felix helped Jisung wrap his arms around my shoulders and waist. The additional weight was burdensome, and I cursed Jisung under my breath as I helped him through the club to where the bouncer waited at the exit. “I’ll never let you forget this,” I hissed, waiting for the bouncer to open the door while I took one last look over my shoulder to check on my brothers. Instead, I found myself looking directly into Changbin’s dark eyes as he waited by the bar, a familiar smirk making him appear even more dangerous. I shivered in response before I slowly shuffled to the car with Jisung practically breathing down my neck.

When I finally managed to accompany Jisung inside my house, I unceremoniously deposited him on the couch, ignoring the way he groaned in complaint. “I’ll find you some medicine,” I said, searching through one of the side tables.

“It hurts,” Jisung whined, and I rolled my eyes after shoving a bottle of Aspirin in his direction.

“Remember that when you decide to be stupid again.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, dropping two pills into his hand before swallowing them eagerly.

I grimaced as I sat down next to him. “When did you start drinking?”

“Before the show,” Jisung said. “Changbin said it would help take the edge off.”

“Yeah? Do me a favor and don’t listen to him anymore,” I said, frowning when Jisung curled closer to my side. “What are you doing?”

“Tired,” he said, looking up at me with a smile. “You look beautiful.”

I scoffed, trying to push him away, but alcohol apparently made him bolder because he was suddenly twisting one leg around my hip to hold himself in place. “Jisung, you need to stop,” I said, gasping when he brought his lips against mine, kissing me with skill and a surprising amount of tongue. “We can’t do this!”

“Please,” Jisung whined, grinding his hips against my legs. “Just one night, Y/N?”

“Your drunk,” I said, which was only one of a dozen problems with the scenarios currently playing out right in front of my very eyes.

“I’m sober,” Jisung promised, frantically chasing my lips with eager kisses.

It was nothing short of desire, the way he was looking at me, while I watched our clothes end up in a pile around the couch as Jisung fumbled with the condom before I helped him roll it onto his erection. He groaned at the contact, and I moved my hand up and down his cock a few more times before directing him between my legs. Jisung slid inside with a messy exhale, and his arms trembled as they supported his body looming over mine with his delicate frame.

It was a pleasant contradiction because Chan’s thrusts had been nothing short of confident while Jisung’s inexperience showed in the frantic way his hips stuttered against mine. He tried to move faster, losing his previous rhythm, and his cock fell all the way out, erection sliding between my thighs instead. He whined pathetically, rutting against my legs for several moments before he re-adjusted himself deep inside. “Y/N,” he moaned.

“It’s okay,” I told him, petting my fingers along the crown of his head. “You’re doing so good.”

“I like you so much,” Jisung replied earnestly and my heart ached at his words.

He looked unbelievably sinful, eclipsing my body against his as I felt the fabric of the couch against my skin. The friction was delicious, and I focused on the way his cock felt, thrusts growing more and more assured as he finally found a way to please us both, thumb brushing across my clitoris. He was still kissing me, tongue moving across mine deliberately, and I was breathing harshly as I fought to control the rising heat building in my abdomen. It was an intense build-up to an orgasm that I could’ve never anticipated since Jisung was always Felix’s friend who I usually avoided. The same Jisung whose endless flirtations usually annoyed me, but something had changed the moment I looked into his eyes and saw the lust and desire coming together to create an intoxicating mixture.

It was suddenly impossible to ignore the way he made me feel and I felt him come deep inside with a stuttered moan. His hips moved harshly against mine, and I chased my release with a sensual grind of my hips until I was throwing my head back with a cry, groaning when his lips found the sensitive skin of my neck. “Jisung,” I murmured, watching him through a haze of darkness as he rolled over next to me with a moan.

I studied the way Jisung’s hair fanned out across the cushions, making him look angelic beneath the influence of the moon’s light breaking the barrier of the  curtains. It made me feel guilty, realizing that I had finally returned Jisung’s feelings only after my tumultuous affairs with Changbin and Chan. In fact, I was nothing more than the very girls I often mocked when they threw themselves at the most popular boys in school. I swallowed hard at the realization. “What have I done?”

[hologramcowboy]

Are you a Jensen fan?

Cause honestly a lot of your ask come off as wordy just to make it look as if you know more than what you do, and you're just passively agreeing aggressively with any anon that comes on here that's not blatantly a Danneel Stan.

Some things you say are just completely Anti Jensen. For example, that long as spill about how you believe Cliffffff of all people is a professional in his field? Are you new? A "professional" doesn't date stalker stans, or sleep with the very fanbase that he's supposed to be guarding his friends from. Sorry, I was around when the whole, superstalker99 x cliffffff, fiasco shit happened. He's not a professional. He's a leech.

Furthermore, Danneel's attitude and haughty personality has NOT rubbed off on Jensen. He's a sweet, caring person. He's nothing like her. I've never seen him treat anyone like they were lower than him. He even takes more shit from the fucking hellers than anyone thinks he should, when no one but the hellers would blame him for snapping, and he's snapped a lot less than he's intitled too. Elta can't even handle a few antis online. He's a much bigger person than she will ever be. I've never seen him spit in the face of the fandom the way she has. I've never seen him get online and call his fanbase a bunch of "fat whores". (Her words, not mine.) I've never seen any of Danneel's traits in him, and to say that he does is a slap in the face to him.

Does he drink more than he should as an unhealthy coping mechanism? Yes. Is he a perfect parent? NO. Does he claim to be? Absolutely not. Is he a perfect husband? Not at all. Does he have flaws? Yes, we all, as people, do, but to say he's got some of the same traits as that narcissistic, abusive, plastic cunt? Just... Wow.

You really need to educate yourself before making such comments. That's not cool. Be Anti Danneel all you want. But Jensen hasn't done a damn thing. Neither has Jared. Neither has Gen. At least Danneel ask for the shit she gets. Learn to formulate your own opinions. You want to scream "critical thinking?" Maybe go back and read some of your responses and impute that, "critical thinking", that you seem to not know the full definition of. Stop agreeing with every anon that sounds like they might know a little more than you and do your homework before making such claims.

ANON, reading my blog is a CHOICE you MADE. You. Dislike it? Don't read it. So, to resume your post, you are attacking me for my opinions because you dislike them? That's my problem because? Do you want to reword your post? Do you even know what passive aggressive means? Because I don't think it means what you think it means. I am sorry you dislike what I think of Jensen but ultimately it is none of your business, correct? Is it my job to respond to every triggered person that comes on my blog? Whatever happened to maturity and managing emotions? "make it look as if you know more than what you do" please clarify this generalized statement with specificity. What exactly are you referring to and why are you so triggered? What is is that I know and what is it that you know I don't know and who sets the rules and standards for that? Can you have your manager call me? lol I really wanna get the rules straight before I continue existing without bothering anyone. It's exactly the thing I posted about earlier. Thinking that pointing out stuff means Jensen is a bad person and getting triggered so how exactly do I know more than what I do? What anon and where did I agree and not do my research? Please enlighten me, I am dumb and aggressive and a Jensen hater and not allowed to perceive ANYTHING and not only that but it's MY JOB to be fandom detective. Do I look like Nancy Drew to you? Also, what I know, you'll never know, you don't even know me, so keep sending ghost asks and theorizing because if it helps your frustrated self feel better then cool.

You resent Clif? Cool, cool, cool. So? I only expressed my opinion on what I saw IN THE VIDEO. Was that unclear? Do you need explanations to explanations? Are you just gonna look for things to bash because YOU are triggered? What Clif does or does not do does not interest me. I was talking about his profession and his demeanor. That's it. But go on, make a huge case of everything and please ad several sick interpretations that will increase drama and make you feel entitled even more to trash me.

Do you want to reword this post in a way that actually communicates what you really want to say? Because this looks like you got triggered and just vomited things out of envy. I'm not going to let in anything you said because it doesn't represent me and I don't think it represents you.

Disclaimer: As pointed out by several people, Clif is renowned in fandom for being kinda shady so please do your research on him.

[iforgotmypreviousaccountlol]

Chat: Lemme See Your Homework!

This is based on the chat “Lemme See Your Homework” from Mammon on day 4. <3

 I’m in the library in the House of Lamentation when a chat box popped on my phone.

 Mammoney: Hey, MC, lemme see your Devildom Law homework, would ya?

Mammoney: You know, the one with the warnings about contracts, and the examples of how to deal with any problems that may come up durin’ ‘em!

 I finished that homework last night and spent a good chunk of my time researching for it. I had a hard time with it because it’s not like I had courses like that back in the human world, unlike Mathematics or Science. I actually had to borrow a Latin Dictionary from Satan to answer some of the questions.

While I stayed up until dawn, Mammon went off to devil-knows-where right after dinner. He didn’t even answer his phone when I tried to call him. I had to ask his brothers if they’d seen him and Beel said he saw him dash off the house when Lucifer left for Diavolo’s office.

I typed in a reply.

Me:

<Sticker – shaking head>

A chat bubble appeared.

 Mammoney: Please, you gotta help me, MC!

Mammoney: If I don’t turn it in by today, Teach’s gonna fail me—hold me back a year for my own good or some crap like that.

Mammoney: Where are you anyway?

 I didn’t reply. Hah. Let him roam around the house and try to find me. My phone chimed.

 Mammoney: Never mind, Asmo said he saw you enter the library.

Mammoney: My back’s against the wall, here. So I’m headin’ over right now to copy your homework.

Mammoney: You’d better not go snitchin’ to Lucifer!

Mammoney: Promise me, MC!

Mammoney: <Sticker – flying kiss>

 Ugh, Asmodeus!!!

I put down my phone and concentrated on my work. I still have to copy and memorize the compounds needed to transmute chalk into a metal. Not that I could do it, but still, my curriculum included Alchemy in it. I don’t even know how it will be useful to me. This feels like studying Algebra, I’m always left wondering when I will ever use it in real life.

The door opened and from the corner of my eye, I saw Mammon’s head pop in. He looked around and when he saw me, he entered and closed the door behind him.

He took the seat in front of me. I didn’t look at him and continued writing. Mammon slumped on the table and looked at me with pleading eyes. “Ya gotta work with me here, MC!!! I can’t fail a subject. Lucifer’ll kill me!”

He put his palm together and closed an eye. “Please!”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Why do you even have to study and go to school? Aren’t you like, I don’t know, thousands of years old or something?”

“I know, right! Studying and goin’ to class is useless, that’s what I kept telling ‘em but they don’t listen! I don’t know why, it has somethin’ to do with coping with changin’ times and all that.”

“What?”

“Don’t ask me anymore about it. Ask someone else. I don’t agree with it in the first place!”

I finished writing and put down my pen. I crossed my arms and stretched my neck. “Ahhh, my shoulders hurt from hunching in a desk too much…”

He stood up and rushed behind me. He placed his hands on my shoulders and started massaging them. “Where? Here? Lemme rub it for you, MC.”

“Wow, you’re really desperate, huh?”

“I am!”

I signaled him to pause and tied my in a low ponytail. He resumed with the massage. Without my hair in the way, I felt Mammon’s hands directly rubbing against my shoulders. I was still in my house clothes so I was just wearing a tank top paired with sweatpants.

His hands stopped massaging my shoulders. I looked back and saw him staring.

“Why’d you stop?” I asked.

“Wh… huh?” He quickly removed his hands and sat back.

“Hey! I was just starting to relax! Give me some more massages.”

“Enough, I have to copy you homework, don’t I?”

I pouted at him but he can’t look straight at me. His ears are also a bit red. I extended my homework, “Fine, here!” He was about to grab it but I pulled it away.

“What now, MC?”

“Help me with dinner later, I’ll let you copy.”

Wednesdays and weekends are usually help yourself days in the House of Lamentation. We usually have cooks to prepare the meals and we just help with the cleaning and setting the table. But on Wednesdays, Saturday and Sunday, we have to cook our own meals. One person is assigned for breakfast and another for dinner, almost no one eats lunch here in the dorms anyway so there’s no need to assign someone to cook. The assignment is done in rotation.

Beel usually helps me in cooking when it’s my turn, but he eats the ingredients before I even cook them so I stopped asking him for help.

“Okay, deal! Now lemme see your homework.”

I gave it to him and he proceeded to copy it. He hummed while writing.

“Change it up a little, Mammon! Don’t be too obvious.”

“All right, all right. I’ll even miss some questions so we don’t get the same score.”

I rested my chin my arm on the table and watched him write.

“Why’re ya staring at me, MC?”

“Hmm?”

“I said s-s-top staring at m-me.”

“I’m not staring.”

“Yes, you are! It’s makin’ me real uncomfortable!” He placed his non-writing hand over my eyes.

I swatted it away. “Fine.”

I played with my phone and felt my eyelids grow heavy…

I awoke with the sensation of someone touching my ear. My cracked my eyes open. Mammon was seating beside me, trailing soft touches on my face.

“What are you doing?” I mumbled, voice raspy from sleep.

Mammon jumped back and pulled his hand away. He turned his head away. “You’re drooling!”

I raised my head and swiped at my cheek, “No, I’m not!”

“Tch. Whatever, we’re gonna be late if ya don’t get your ass up and change right now!”

I rubbed my eyes. He gathered my things and his and lazily dragged me to my room. He closed the door and yelled for me to get changed.

I languidly put on my uniform. I was in the middle of fixing my hair in a braid when the door opened.

“You done?” Mammon said.

“Yeah, just a sec.” I glanced at him then went back to braiding my hair.

He entered my room and stood beside me. He has his hands in his pockets and was whistling a tune.

“What?” I asked.

“Hurry up! I’m hungry! Treat me to lunch. I’m cravin’ some hell sauce ramen from Hell’s Kitchen.”

“I don’t have money!”

“Then… I’ll treat you.” He muttered.

“Oooh that’s rare! Okay, I’m almost done!” I grinned.

“Don’t look so happy! You face is givin’ me the creepers!” He fake shivered. He walked out the door, and yelled, “I’ll wait for you at the gate!”

 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 Later that night, Mammon and I brought the ingredients we needed for tonight’s dinner on the kitchen. We had the ingredients delivered to the House because we didn’t have enough time to run to the grocery.

We decided to cook curry, since it’s easy to make and we can do large servings at once considering half of it would easily go to Beel’s black hole of a stomach.

I grabbed a cookbook from one of the drawers and placed it in a book stand.

“All right, let’s do this. Take out the potatoes and carrots, wash them and peel half, I’ll do the other half.”

“Man, this is heavy!” He said while he hauled the sack of potatoes. He did what he was told.

I started on chopping up the onions.

“Here, done!” Mammon said and placed a basin containing the potatoes in front of me.

“That was suspiciously fast—” I looked at his work. I slammed the knife on the chopping board. “Mammon!!!!!”

“What is it?! Why’re ya yellin’?”

“You peeled the potatoes halfway!”

“You said to peel half! I did what ya said! I don’t get what’re ya getting’ upset for.” He clicked his tongue and shook his head.

“Mammoooooon! I meant half of them! Like half the numbers! Not literally just half of each potato!!!” I yelled.

He laughed and ran to the other side of the kitchen island. I chased him and tripped on the sack of carrots.

He laughed harder. I felt blood rush to my face. I grabbed some carrots and threw it at his face. He was able to dodge the first batch but I was ready for the next throw and caught him off guard.

Mammon grabbed a colander and used it as a shield.

I stood up, grabbed a spatula and started attacking him. He snatched a wooden spoon and the whole thing soon ensued into a full on sword fight with kitchen utensils.

“You dare fight me, mortal?” Mammon declared in a low voice.

“Today, in the bleak mid-winter, you’ll face a fate worse than death.” I avowed. I assumed a stance and landed a strike.

“Winter ain’t even started yet!”

He was laughing while trying to parry my strikes and in the middle of it, I started to laugh too because of the ridiculousness of it all.

Our legendary sword fight ended sans victor when Lucifer arrived and chased us both out of the kitchen, which now looked like a battlefield strewn with curry ingredients.

[the-phoenix-heralds]

Coping with Online Classes while Neurodivergent

(Mostly aimed at those with ADHD and Autism, as I have ADHD and NVLD)

Organization

If you aren’t already keeping a planner this is a great time to start, It will allow you to not only remember the overload of information you are getting but also to organize it. (Also don’t be afraid of modifying how you use your planners, I for example am now using a completely different planner than the one I have been using for the past 2 years)

Also It will help you keep track of time (especially now that everyday seems to blend together)

Google calendar is great as not only is it online (and you are able to keep it both on your computer and phone) but Zoom is also allowing teachers to schedule classes on through it so they show up automatically on you calendar

If you haven’t already joined/made a class group chat, DO IT! being able to ask classmates/friends for advice/help is going to be more important than ever now, I have been relying on mine to keep me accountable and attending my classes on time

It is completely reasonable to ask your teachers to set a “firm” schedule, ie “we only meet for classes on Tuesdays and assignments will always be due on Thursdays”. Even if this is only true in *most* cases it is still a huge step forward in establishing a schedule and a sense of normalcy.

Use Google Drive and Bookmarks to organize your digital resources, sorting them first by class then by type (textbook, questions, data sheet, etc.) or how ever else you deem appropriate. This will save you time and keep you from losing documents

Gmail allows you to add searchable and colour-coded labels to your emails, these are great to wrangle your now completely overwhelmed inbox. My teachers tend to send their Zoom invite emails out directly after class meaning I might not need them for entire week, so I now tag them “zoom” so when I’m scrambling a few minutes before class I can find them in one search  

Coursework

do not be afraid to directly ask teachers how their marking criteria and curriculum have changed. Even if they are only able to give you an approximate answer, this should still help you prioritize your work and know how much time to give each assignment

also do not be afraid to tell teacher how/if you are struggling, many of us have spent years learning how to cope with a “normal” learning environment. Asking us to adapt all of our coping strategies and modifications in a few days is unrealistic and many teachers thankfully understand this

Also don’t be afraid to get creative with adapting your new coursework, If you usually answer questions orally you can use the speech to text function in Google Docs or submit audio of your answers via email

Productivity

DON’T DO YOUR HOMEWORK IN YOUR BED OR ATTEND CLASS FROM THERE. I know how tempting it is, but It’s amazing how much easier attending class is for me from my desk. Differentiating spaces helps you mind organize what you do where, you don’t have to have a desk just somewhere that preferably Isn’t your bed.

Set a schedule to follow during the week, but also be realistic with what you know you can and will accomplish. For example, I have to be in Zoom classes every morning at 8:35am, so I have to be up by 8 and be “presentable” (this is very low bar for me, it literally only means that I don’t look like I got mauled by raccoons) and have made myself breakfast and coffee by 8:30.

Take structured breaks at certain times of the day and go outside/open a window, eat, refill your water or just to simply take a break from the internet/screens.

Try using noise cancelling headphones or earbuds to limit the amount of outside stimuli, and arrange your desk so it is not visually overwhelming (ie. no huge piles of work or text books)

Zoom

Zoom is currently sensory hell for me and I haven’t seen a lot of information on what to do so here’s whats working for me right now

Asking for notes before class is a classic accommodation so don’t be afraid to ask your teacher, chances are they are already providing notes to someone else (If a teacher shoots you down ask a trusted friend for a copy of their notes, or to take turns note taking)

Ask your teacher to mute microphones during lectures and to only turn them on for discussions/questions, It’s amazing the amount of background noise this eliminates

Find the best place for internet in your living situation, or If possible switch to wired Ethernet (I went from 1.5-3 MBS to 150 MBS just by switching to a wired connection even though I was already less than 2M from a WiFi modem)

If it’s visual stimuli that’s the issue, Zoom let’s you choose if you only see your teacher/ how many of your classmates you can see at any given time and also lets you reduce the size of the window. It will also outline whoever is talking in lime green, to help direct your focus

download an audio mixer, this should give you the ability to cut the audio frequencies above and below the range of speech, while this won’t cut all the distracting noise it should reduce it and cut what sounds the most “artificial” (which I have the most issue with)

you can also download KRISP a program that does this for you (If you email them you can get it for free for the next six months)

Find ways to fidget that can help you focus, I for example have been knitting during class discussions because it not only helps me focus but the added input also helps me interrupt people less and listen better (other recommendations are Rubik’s cubes, stress balls or even doodling)

Don’t be afraid to turn off your camera for a few minutes to work or take a break, taking a break before you shut down is always better than after you do

also don’t be afraid to mute the class, If you already have the notes and understand them you are mostly there for the attendance/participation marks anyway

Now even though I advise talking to your teacher before you turn off/mute any part of the zoom I also understand that many teachers won’t be willing to make those accommodations and that most of this can be done easily without the teachers knowledge. As long as you are trying don’t feel guilty for adapting online classes to fit your specific needs.

Other Tips and Tricks

make friends with the SEA’s (Special Education Assistant’s or your equivalent) even if you don’t get support, they are having to adapt classes for their students and are able to offer an incredible amount of insight and help (they are also some of the most compassionate and determined people I have ever had the pleasure of knowing)

along the same vein make friends with other Neurodivetgent students, not only so you know what is working for others but also because the more people asking for help/accommodation the more likely you are to get it (never underestimate collective bargaining)

If you are new to self advocating or communicating adaptations through email take a look at Understood.org , they have amazing and simple to understand information on different learning issues in all ages from infancy to adulthood as well as common accommodations and why they are used. It’s an amazing tool to not only explain neurodiversity but also to find solutions and how to communicate them to others. They also now have an entire page on how to adapt to covid-19 as a student and as an educator

Finally do not be afraid to ask for help, everyone is going to need help and grace during this time, you do not need to be ashamed of it. (I personally am battling some shame over asking for more comprehensive accommodations during these times)

@dashing-hyphen @galazybunny @mouwwie

[theaurorfileshq]

R I L E Y   M E T Z E R  /  A U R O R   C A D E T

AGE: Forty

BADGE NUMBER: U81J33

BLOODSTATUS: Halfblood (No-Maj Born Father, Wix Mother)

GENDER/PRONOUNS: Trans Man, He/Him

IDENTIFYING FEATURES: That Sweet Sweet Louisiana Accent, Plaid Shirts, Dog Hair on Nearly Every Belonging.

STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES:

(+): Seer (Post-Cognitive, Almost Useless), Vehicle Proficiency, Animal Skills.

(-):  Extremely Weak Magical Ability, Avoids Conflict.

BACKGROUND:

(tw: mentioned alcoholism, murder, vague transphobia )

(i.) – childhood.

Their mother left early on, and when Riley was young their father hated him for the resemblance. He looked too much like her, even when he carved out a new body for himself, to better fit his shape. He’s the eldest child yet somehow the second son, always lesser somehow in his father’s eyes. There is a sense of otherness that haunts him through the years, one he can’t dwell too much on as he lays in his cramped bed, brother not more than a foot away on the other tiny twin mattress, in their tiny box room. Riley always blames the cramped circumstances of his upbringing for planting his anxiety in him, for making him afraid of big crowds and wide open homes.

He does his best to learn to live life on his own terms, to take care of himself and his brother and leave their father unbothered. Riley learns to cook dinner, and help with homework, and smile strained smiles at the grocery store clerk. Their father teaches him things young, leads by example. He tells Riley that if he insists on being a man, at least he’d better not be some kind of priss. He drinks too much and passes out early, and Riley learns to ignore the stench of beer on the couch, and learns to hide the way he looks at other boys.

His brother is special. They learn that young too. At eleven he’s secreted away to a world that Riley doesn’t get to be a part of. Magic school. He takes after their mother in a way that Riley seemingly doesn’t. Sometimes, he feels like he’s missing out on something. He feels like he missed a moment of revelation, like something should have changed when he was younger, but he wasn’t paying close enough attention. Sometimes, he wonders if he could ever be special, hopes and dreams to be something more than he is.

He gets a job as a teenager and contributes to the family, and lets his father teach him how engines work, how to drive. He has an anxious heart, and he’s a fucking weirdo, he knows it. People don’t like him, and he doesn’t want them to. Riley gets bullied at school, and bullied at home, and he swallows it all down and forgets it.

He regrets his wishing that he could be more, when it starts at sixteen. The… visions? He doesn’t know what to call them, but he learns to tell when they’re coming. They build like a vicious and sharp migraine behind his eyes, leave him dizzy and half blind, and after they hit he breaks out in sweats and usually empties out his stomach. His father doesn’t even notice, and the school nurse tells him he’s fine, nothing out of the ordinary. But he sees bloody phantoms, strange things he can’t explain. He sees Nancy Walker cheating on a math test that happened two weeks ago. He sees the Ryan boys playing ding dong ditch last halloween. Useless things. When he tells his brother, the reaction isn’t good. You’re making shit up, you just want to be special like me. He doesn’t know how to explain them in any other way, so he keeps his damn mouth shut, just like daddy taught him.

Their father disappears when he’s eighteen. It isn’t a surprise, and he’s done it before. A weekend long bender here, an extended trip away. Riley doesn’t think anything could have gone wrong, until a full week passes and he doesn’t turn back up. It leaves Riley feeling hopeless and helpless. He considers the police, what his father would say if he told them and everything was actually fine. He considers missing person’s reports, and people eyeing him with scrutiny, and he freezes up a little. Anxious heart beating fast, body aching with nerves. Sometimes, he can’t make words come out of his mouth, can’t form sound. When he’s nervous, he goes quiet. A defense mechanism, a last line of support. He picks up the phone to call the police, and can’t get the words out, so he just hangs up.

Riley figures that everything will be fine. Dad will come  home soon, and they’ll go back to the way things were. School ends and he skips graduation, glad to escape high school, glad to work more hours at the gritty and dirty mechanics down the street from their tiny cramped house. His brother comes home from school for the summer, and he imagines that everything will be fine, and then he has a vision. A hold up on the road out of town, where the land becomes wild again, swampy land and his father’s car, his father’s blood. They do go to the police, finally, but it’s his brother that does all the talking.

(ii.) – an education.

He strikes out on his own, after their father dies. Tries to, at least. His haunting little problem only gets worse, and his anxiety stops his heart more often than not. He’s a broken shadow of a thing, a strange man that makes people uncomfortable. He loses his job at the mechanic shop, and then at the grocery store, and then again at the other one across town. He stops and wonders why he’s doing this, why he’s staying in this town where no one likes him and no one needs him.

It’s a flight of fancy that has him selling his father’s house and moving out, moving away. He packs up everything they owned and sells everything he doesn’t want, everything his brother could do without. He finds pictures he’s never seen before, his mother with shining eyes, and she does look like him. There’s another man in the picture with her, and he looks like her too. A twin. He scours through the rest of the tucked away boxes, finds a letter from her tucked away inside one, and wonders if the address on it is still good.

He isn’t sure what he expects from her, when he finds her. He isn’t sure if he should be angry that she left, or glad that she never had the time to learn to hate him. Mainly, he just wants answers from her. He just wants something. He finds the apartment from the letter, on the west coast, and decides not to write ahead, not to warn her of his imminent arrival. A letter is a lot easier to ignore than a son on your doorstep.

She isn’t there, when he knocks. But the other man is. The uncle Riley never knew he had. His name is Alastair and he looks at Riley with sad eyes, and he has a kind smile, and he explains that she died a long time ago. Years and years ago. Before Riley ever knew where to look. Riley turns to leave, but Al invites him inside and lets him stay the night, lets him stay for a week. When Al asks if he can do magic, at all, Riley shakes his head. There’s nothing magical about him. He’s a squib, that’s what Al says, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t part of the magical world. But even that much isn’t right.

He’s at Al’s when the visions shift. Ever since his father, they’ve taken on a bloodier edge. No more math tests. No more ding-dong-ditch. Riley is the eternal victim now. He’s attacked, murdered, more than once. And apparently that means he might not be a squib after all. There’s magic in him. Just a bit. Just enough, and he’s very special indeed. Al gets in contact with an old professor, who gets in contact with an expert in the field of seeing the future, who gets in contact with an expert in the field of seeing the past. Riley reports the crimes in his head to the police, to the aurors, and forgets how to sleep at night without dreaming of death.

Riley learns magic from his uncle. It’s too late for school. He’ll always have missed something formative, something necessary. But he wouldn’t have thrived there, wouldn’t have blossomed. He learns all the theory, but he can’t manage most of the actual magic. A few spells here and there, but the rest is beyond him. He can boil a kettle, open a door, turn on a light. He can’t make a shield, he can’t throw his body across time and space, he can’t turn a teapot into a turtle. So, he doesn’t expect to go far in life. He gets a job in a diner and for some reason, Al lets him stay in the spare room of his apartment, his mother’s old room. There are pictures glued to the wall that he can’t get off, attached with magic that he’ll never be strong enough to counter. He could ask Al, probably, but he doesn’t have the heart to.

(iii.) – career progression.

Things go as they always do. He lives. It isn’t quite happy, his existence, but for a brief few years it’s the best it’s ever been. He has an uncle that loves him. Someone to count on. But Riley Metzer isn’t a person who is allowed to have comfort, and everyone he loves turns to ash eventually. Al dies, just like everybody else. Well, maybe not. It’s an accident, brutal in its simplicity, one of those strange things that could happen to anyone and everyone. He leaves Riley some money, and he’s gone, grief left in his wake.

Riley buys himself a trailer he parks out in the woods, and buys himself a dog. Tiny little thing named Titan, sweet and comforting, unlike any human he could fill his life with. He gets a job in the nearest city, at an all night diner, and tries to cope as best he can with existence.

There’s  this problem he has when he can’t ignore the things he’s seen. He’s become an eternal victim, and there are horrors unfolding before his very eyes. But he’s also the kind of man who hates to be seen, to be noticed, to be scrutinized. He knows now that his visions are real, but they’re still difficult to deal with, especially when it comes to no-maj police. It’s hard to walk into a station and give information about a murder no one is aware of, to give details that have never been supplied to the public. If he doesn’t want to be mistaken for some kind of weirdo serial killer, he has to do better than that. So he becomes the master of the anonymous tip. Phone calls from old, practically defunct payphones. Notes written on random scrap paper.

It’s easier with the Aurors, who understand at least in the vaguest sense that Riley gets his information through traumatic recollections of things that never happened to him. They understand he knows the details because he lived them, because when he sees a murder he lives in the victims shoes for a day. He’s been strangled, stabbed, and left for dead. Once, he was buried alive. He knows he can go to them and for the most part, they’ll get it – but he’s still strange, still  unusual, as far as seers go, and he still hates it when they talk to him for hours at a time. So he tries to cheat that system too, uses Al’s old owl to send notes to headquarters and hopes that they never track him down for further comment.

Of course, someone does track him down, eventually.

They appear in the diner in the middle of his shift, order coffee with too much sugar and a slice of pie. Sol LeRoux has kind eyes and what must be the brightest smile in the world. He must be a few years older than Riley, but he looks younger. Something sweet and bright and innocent inside him that sets him apart, where the opposite is true for Riley, old beyond his years. He flashes a badge that says he works for Central Squad, and Riley thinks his heart is going to beat right out of his chest. Sol is there for him, because of something that he saw, because he’s the man with the insider knowledge, and there’s a serial killer on the loose. Riley helps in every way he can, but there’s clearly more than that going on.

Sol looks at him like he’s something sad, but something with potential, and his heart doesn’t stop beating too fast. They stop a serial killer, and Sol tells him that he’s wasting his life, tells him that he could do so much more if he put his mind to it. Apparently, Riley’s tips have helped them close a dozen cases on the big squads. When he points out that he did all that anonymously, that he’d be useless as an auror, that he can barely do magic anyway, Sol smiles at him. He smiles and he shakes his head, and he looks at Riley with kind eyes. The words stay with him for a long time: well, i’ve seen your future, Riley Metzer, and I think you’d do pretty damn great.

Sol gets him into the academy somehow, and he passes as best he can. By the skin of his teeth, or by the grace of god, he does become an auror. Riley calls his brother to share the news, and the conversation is tense, the way it always is. Part of them will always know that Riley isn’t meant for this world, that no matter what anyone else says, he’s a pretender through and through. Still, Riley wants to hoard it selfishly, wants to be part of it for as long as he can, before they realise their mistake and take away his badge again. They assign him to the squad in Louisiana, and then to Washington, and then to Tennessee. He never expects for more than that, to be passed around to where he’s needed most, to be loaned out whenever he has a vision that might help.

He doesn’t expect MACUSA or Pacific Squad to come calling. But eight months ago they did, and then he began a life of bigger and better things. He moved his trailer and his dogs to the west coast for good, moved into a big office with way too many people, and had to fight just to make himself say a word. He’s still waiting for them to realise that he doesn’t belong, he’s still hoping that they never do.

[rickyriddle]

Kaminaga Kouko analysis

Hi there! I’m back with a new AnR analysis, this time about Kouko! After Suzu it’s time to analyze our favourite class representative. It had been a while I wanted to make an analysis of her, I was supposed to do her before Suzu but ended up doing Suzu as a request for someone. But now it’s Kouko’s time, the girl deserves some recognition, and I’m going to give it to her.

So, let’s start by examining Kouko’s past. We know that Kouko is an orphan, so her parents died when she was a child and she was ‘welcomed’ by an orphanage, who is actually a criminal organization training kids to become assassins, seemingly specializing in bombs. Kouko was good at making plans but terrible at handling bombs. It made her an easy target for bullying. It didn’t seem as intense as what Shiena went through, from what we seem it seems to be mainly mockery, but to be put down like that by people of her age and view as a failure by the adults must have given Kouko a pretty bad esteem of herself. Her only source of happiness was her senpai and mentor Irena, probably what kept her from breaking, and she, unfortunately, killed her by accident as a teenager. It didn’t help with her esteem, made her feel terribly guilty, and increase the hate her superiors had towards her. Kouko was basically sent at Class Black because it was judges as an unimportant mission and didn’t want to waste a good assassin on it. 

Here’s a little headcanon about Kouko’s orphanage. I personally think they are a religious fanatic group, terrorists. The catholic orphanage could be a cover-up, but in one scene they really seemed to imply they do believe in God, which is strange for an assassin organization unless they are extremists. Irena also implied in KnR that she never kissed anyone because she “chose that kind of life”, which lead me to believe she’s an actual nun, thus religious. The fact they are religious and use bombs really give me a big terrorist vibe, but that’s only my opinion and I won’t use it for the rest of the analysis, I just wanted to share this headcanon with you (and having a terrorist among the assassin add some ‘diversity’ in the cast).

Back to what’s canon. From what we have seen in the series, well during Class Black, Kouko was acting really assertive, bossy, challenging anyone who wanted to question her authority. She was determined, focus, hardworking, smart, act confident and didn’t want to accept failure. Despite her clumsiness, from what we see she was a rather competent class representative. But in the flashback before Class Black, where she was also a teenager, Kouko looked more submissive, she lacks confidence, she was shy. Even her voice sounded different. It was way soft and high pitched before Class Black, and during Class Black, it was way deep. And it’s not like there were a lot of years between those two periods, she looked the same age. It seems to indicate that she forces herself to sound deeper now, to assert her authority and dominance, to not be viewed as weak.

Kouko tried to make herself look assertive and in control, she seeks positions of power, she wants to be in charge, she wants people to rely on her, and she can’t accept failure. It’s like she was craving for some feeling of superiority, not to put down others, but to put herself up. Even if Kouko is trying to assert her authority on others, she doesn’t try to put them down, all she wants is putting herself up. She doesn’t want to feel above others, she wants to be at the same level at them while protecting her need to feel in power.

Let’s examine a little bit of Kouko’s psychology. We don’t know at what age she lost her parents but we can assume she was young, so it’s possible that she didn’t experience much parental love as a child. She was disliked by her classmates and by the adults around her, the only person who seemed to love her was Irena. To be overall disliked by others and lacking love as a child must have a serious effect on her self-esteem. Also, accidentally killing the only person who gave her love, her only source of happiness, the person who was giving her self-worth, must have left her with a deep feeling of guiltiness, remorse, and possibly hatred against herself. All of this must have left a feeling of inferiority in Kouko.

And this is where I wanted to bring you. If you read my AnR mental illness post you know what’s coming next. I’m talking about Kouko’s mental issues. She’s a prime example of someone suffering from an inferiority complex.

Let’s start with a symptom of inferiority complex, low self-esteem. People with low self-esteem have heavy self-criticism, Kouko views herself as a failure. Hypersensitivity to criticism, Kouko was quick to challenge others who question her authority and get really sensitive when Suzu asked her question about her wish. Perfectionism, Kouko wants everything to be perfect and doesn’t accept failure. Neurotic guilt, she feels guilty over Irena’s death. Floating hostility, she’s quick to argue with people who question her authority or doubt her. Pessimism, I would say that in general, Kouko is a pretty pessimistic person. Envy, she expresses resentment against Tokaku for being an elite assassin while she’s a weak assassin.

But what about the inferiority complex. From what I read, it can be rooted in the young child’s original experience with weakness, helplessness and dependancy. As a child, Kouko was treated as weak, she was forced to be an assassin, making her helpless, and dependant on Irena, her only source of happiness. It can be intensified by comparison to others, and I have no doubt that the teachers at the orphanage kept comparing her to the kids who were more competent than her. Kouko seems to display a certain “superiority complex”, a desire to appear superior in a way, dominant, assertive, in control, a craving for position of powers. But superiority complex can be a defence mechanism against inferiority complex, which I believe is the case with Kouko. She feels inferior and to cope with it, she tries to compensate with a need for power, dominance and control over others, to try to put herself up and gave herself self-confidence. She’s so desperate for it that she literally changed her voice just to look more assertive. And when she loses or fails, she feels worthless again and breaks in cry, feeling overcome by her deep feeling of inferiority.

I have been told that I view characters too much through mental illness, so let’s talk about Kouko’s traits that are personal to her and not to a disorder. I talked about it before, but Kouko is extremely clumsy, it’s a little quirk of hers. It could be the result of her inferiority complex, but Kouko is clumsy since she’s a child, so I think it’s more something personal to her that may have gotten worst with her overall low self-esteem. But I still consider that her clumsiness is part of her personality. Kouko is also shown trying to help Haru with her homework, showing that Kouko is willing to help others. It may be related to her class representative role, but I feel like she genuinely wants to help people, deep down she has a good and generous heart, but was forced to bury it in order to be an assassin. Kouko still tried to kill Haru with no hesitation, showing that she’s capable of murder (she’s just incompetent at it… well she’s better with a gun than bombs, we have to give her that). Something I found really interesting with Kouko happened during her childhood, Irena said her “blueprint” (I think it was some bomb blueprint?) was well done, and some kid mocks her, saying that “drawing well means nothing”. Sure it was a blueprint, but I have the feeling Kouko might have some artistic talent, she’s good with a pencil. She could either be good at designing other types of blueprints (possible future jobs? Tho I headcanon her as a doctor in the future), or, she could use her skills with a pencil for more creative stuff, like drawing. Would it be cute for Kouko to have as a hobby drawing? Maybe that would help her get some self-esteem, have a passion, feel some enjoyment in life, learning to love herself. I’m all for the Kouko to become an artist later in life. Also, during the epilogue, Kouko successfully escape from her organization despite the risk, showing how brave she is, and we saw that in KnR she did it to honour Irena’s wish that wanted her to be a hope for everyone (that it was possible to escape I presume and live a normal life), showing that Kouko is someone who will go out of her way to honour someone’s wish.

So, we’re arriving at the shipping part. I suppose I should talk about Kouko’s relationship with Suzu. But I can’t do that without talking about her relationship with Irena first. Irena was Kouko’s senpai, her mentor, her role model, the only source of happiness and self-worth at the orphanage. Kouko was dependant on her, and when she lost her it left a void in her heart and a deep feeling of worthlessness. Irena was like the sun in her life, and without her, she’s stuck in a dark and cold night (okay that sounded cheesy but you get my point).

Okay, now we can talk about Suzu. She’s not a replacement for Irena, but she’s a new mature and adult person in Kouko’s life, a new person she can rely on. Suzu is like a mentor to her, teaching her stuff, helping her with her life (and literally saving her life in KnR). This is what Kouko needs in her life, an adult with experience to help her out, to heal her heart from the loss of Irena. Kouko needs emotional support, to feel appreciated by someone, someone to guide her, and Suzu is the right person for that. They are both lonely and hurt by life, and having each other can help them both to heal their own inner wound. Suzu and Kouko have more of a grandma/grandchild relationship than a romantic one, Suzu does look like she has a little crush on Kouko, but we have yet to see Kouko reciprocate those feelings. I personally ship them as a romantic couple, but as they are portrayed in the series, they are canonly pretty platonic.

Wow, working on this analysis made me realize how deep Kouko is as a character despite her low screentime, I genuinely feel bad for her, her past is really sad, and I sincerely wish her to be happy in the future (with Suzu, of course).

So in conclusion, Kouko is someone struggling with low self-esteem and an inferiority complex due to a childhood devoid of love and appreciation, she hides it behind an assertive and power-seeking persona, but deep down she’s a generous, honourable, brave and determined person, with possibly the soul of an artist. If she starts a new life (possibly with Suzu) she might finally learn to love herself and be happy, and especially, be free. 

That will be all for my Kouko analysis, thanks for reading and if you have any comment, stuff you want to add or questions, don’t hesitate to ask me!

ps: may add a video later to illustrate one of my points.

[desultory-suggestions]

Hey do you have any advice on how to cope with dissociation? I've been feeling *really* out of it lately and it's starting to have an impact..

Hey, love! I’m really glad you’re reaching out, realizing that you need to ask for help is a big step. Here’s some advice!

1. Practice acceptance.

Acceptance is the hardest thing to do when you find yourself in this situation, but it’s the most important step to make. The best approach you can make is one of compassion. For example, react to episodes by saying, “It’s OK. I understand a piece of me had to go and disappear for a bit. It’s fine.” And if you feel frustrated, allow yourself to feel that way, but don’t beat yourself up for being triggered. Sometimes triggers happen out of the blue (which sucks), Recovery takes a lot of practice and patience. You’ll get there.

2. Create and repeat affirmations.

These things don’t always work when it comes to treating mental illness but it can help a lot of people. Choose a phrase that really means something to you. Treat it like a verbal anchor.

3. Go to therapy.

Do your homework and find a therapist that specializes in trauma, dissociation, etc. — It can help so much to have an unbiased professional opinion. They can give you tips and exercises tailored to your needs when you ask.

4. Flashbacks will happen. Sometimes you have to let them run their course.

And they might make you feel sick and overwhelmed, but you have to try and remember they aren’t happening in real-time. Your body may react in ways that make it feel like everything is happening again, and I wish I could tell you there’s a quick fix to turning those sensations off, but they’re something you have to allow to run their course. Do whatever you can to ground yourself, but do not make yourself the enemy during this phase. Write about them, talk to a friend, run and listen to angry music. They will end.

5. Exercise.

Do something that mentally engages you. Focus on the plants/trees around you when you run, focus on your body during yoga, focus on your breathing during lifting weights. Try to be present instead of allowing your brain to rummage around in the darkness. Exercise on foggy/dissociative days too if you can. You don’t have to be in a good mood to exercise. Be honest with yourself about how you feel and put that feeling into the movements you’re doing. Feel angry? Run hard. Feel sad?

6. Accomplish things at your own pace.

Regular life things tend to take a backseat when we’re dealing with a mental illness. Don’t fall into the trap of comparing your situation to everyone around you, especially people who fall under the “neurotypical” category. You are not falling behind, you are not failing and you are not going to be stuck in this place forever. You are allowed to take time to figure things out and to take care of yourself.

7. Forgive yourself.

Whether you have a full-blown dissociative disorder or you experience minor episodes, you have to forgive yourself for the time you have lost. This has never been and will never be your fault. You are doing your best. You are surviving.

[embeth82]

Living With My 3 Best Friends - Fibromyalgia, Autism & Osteoarthritis

My Journey of Discovery

Written by Emma E. Threlfall

Although I was born with Autism or Aspergers (ASD-1) to be specific my journey of discovery along with that of Osteoarthritis (OA) and Fibromyalgia (FMS) didn’t really begin until my late twenties, early thirties. Around the age of 28 I began to show various and strange symptoms which I now know to all be a part of my Fibromyalgia Syndrome. At the time when they first began rearing their ugly heads they were so vast and varied I didn’t know whether I was coming or going. Let me list them for you here:

Hot flushes

Night sweats

Major fatigue

Swollen / Sore Lymph Nodes in my neck, behind my ears, armpits and even in my lower back (which is not pleasant as reminds me of the feeling when you wind yourself, if you’ve ever fallen on you’ll back you’ll know what I mean)

Headaches

Stiffness

Temperature dysregulation, once I get really cold I can’t warm up for hours and same for heat takes longer to cool my body down

Dull aches all over my body

Muscle cramps, anywhere on my body but mostly in my jaw and eyes

Skin sensitivity

Easily dehydrated - can cause headaches for days

Urinary frequency

IBS issues - constipation, diarrhea, colon cramps, back stomach aches, trapped wind

Poor short term memory

Word blindness - completely forgetting what I say as I’ve been saying it - loosing train of thought mid sentence and being completely to remember really simple words when you’re trying to say something (super annoying, and not the greatest during job interviews)

*Plus a load I’ve probably left out

It took me 5 or 6 years of various doctors visits, a hospital visit, an unnecessary laparoscopic surgery, a change of doctors surgeries, numerous blood tests, urine tests and finally going to a different doctor and bam I get a diagnosis after about 10 minutes in the consultation. The weight I felt lifting off me and just the fact that my now new doctor could just say ‘it sounds like Fibromyalgia’ (and just bare in mind there is no test for Fibromyalgia) was amazing.It then took me a few attempts but about a year or so ago my doctor put me on a medication (a controlled drug in the UK) that is actually an anti seizure drug but also has anti anxiety as well as anti neuropathic pain properties I take 100mg twice a day and I no longer have the pain I once had and it has helped so much with my fatigue which was just crippling. However this doesn’t mean I’m completely pain free I still get frequent headaches usually with my monthlys and also if I get stressed in the least little bit it can cause me to have a Fibro Flare with various symptoms of varying degrees. Fun or what?

At the same time all this was going on I was also starting with back pain, sciatic pain going down the backs of my legs a clicking in my back, and the tightest hamstrings in the world. I went for an X-ray and was told over the phone by the receptionist that I had ‘a little bit of osteoarthritis’ and that was that. I think at the time I was offered paracetamol for the pain, which of course did nothing.

So where does the Aspergers come into the fray, well like I mentioned early you are born with Autism and whilst growing up I of course I knew I was different but it wasn’t until I reached my teenage years that I really realised that I truly did have problems. I will list a few here:

Not being able to deal with change

Being a very anxious child / constantly worrying if somewhere I’m not familiar with

Can’t deal with confrontation or being told off

Prefer living in my fantasy world than living in the real world

Watching my favourite show or films on a a constant loop 

Not quite comprehending what my peers were talking about

Feeling the need to copy my peers to make sure I fitted in / constantly feeling like an outsider

Being sensitive to the extreme causing me to go into meltdowns

Getting easily overwhelmed 

Having depression and anxiety since being a teenager

Having few to no friends / finding it extremely difficult to make friends

Having extreme curiosity / always asking questions needing to know the how where, when and why

Not being able to ask for help at school or work

Not getting jokes / not knowing if people I don’t know well too well are using sarcasm or not

Mumbling when I talk with people I don’t know very well / laughing too loudly and not realising it until other people point it out.

Completely missing the point of homework (this may have something more to do with having a touch of dyslexia, as many people with Autism have)

Having major Social Anxiety / OCD and Agoraphobia 

*Again there is probably many more things that I’ve left out. 

However it wasn’t until I was 34 years of age that taking it upon myself and because the NHS was unable to (because of a postcode lottery) I paid £500 to get a private diagnosis of Autism, and having that confirmation just made everything, not easier but a hell of a lot clearer.

Why you might think am I writing about all three diagnoses here but its not just because I live with all three of them but because I believe that having Autism is the reason I now have to deal with OA and FMS, more on that to come in upcoming posts.

Just hope this blog helps shine a light on one or all three of these conditions for people. Just to note also these are things I’ve experienced so it may be slightly different for other people with these conditions as they can be as individual as the person who has them, so I’m purely writing this from my perspective, what I’ve encountered and come up against.

My journey is far from over and I’m discovering new things about my conditions all the time. For example I now also have to deal with Non-allergic Rhinitis, which believe it or not was making my Eustachian Tube in my in ear swell, that probably along with my TMJ (damaged jaw, but that’s another story), leading to me being a decibel or two deafer. I now have a steroid spray to reduce the inflammation - and it works I’m not as hard of hearing when I use that - awesome! Sorry just thought that was interesting but I digress. The point is where I am now at the moment I’m at my most equilibrium I’ve ever been at in my life, but that’s not to say a major life stressor could not really knock me off course and I am very aware of that and constantly try and find ways to keep myself calm on a day to day basis - again more of that in future posts. What I’m trying to say is getting a diagnosis is not a destination, there will never be a magic pill that gets rid of all your ills; having a conditions is like being on a continual journey of learning and discovery, educating and coping but where these type of conditions can feel like a life sentence, but they don’t have to.

[askjennie]

🖋 I'm trying to get into medschool (I have a gap year rn) and I go to those extra chemistry lessons. I never liked chemistry as a subject cuz I had bad teachers, but this teacher is very good at what she does and explains things very well. But every week Im just so scared to go there cuz I'm afraid I won't know something or make a mistake. She's v popular and it was hard to get lessons with her, and Im scared she might not want to give me lessons anymore since I make a lot of mistakes

Continued: 🖋 I'm genuinely so scared of going to those lessons, it's giving me so much anxiety to the point where I think about this one lesson for the whole week in advance. I also tend to leave the studying for the last minute cuz I really really hate doing her chem sheets and, generally, studying for those lessons with her, so i postpone it as far as I can. Getting another teacher isn't an option unfortunately. Idk how to cope with this, do you maybe have some pointers? Thank u very much in advance

Jennie: See, this mindset is one of many reasons why I don’t like the school system. School places so much emphasis on testing and grades that it doesn’t give many opportunities to make mistakes, because if you get some questions wrong on a test you could be told you’re ‘failing’. In reality, making mistakes is an important part of learning - if you don’t risk sharing information that turns out to be wrong, you might never be told the right information! But this obsession with passing and failing leads to students feeling scared to even try learning something in the first place, in case they get something wrong. 

Have you ever had a teacher say something like “there’s no such thing as a stupid question”? That’s an important mindset for a teacher to have. It’s important to remember that your students are not going to know things that might seem obvious to you, because if they knew as much as you, the teacher, does, they wouldn’t need to take the class! So, if your teacher is a good teacher (which it sounds like she is), then she is going to expect you to not know things (because that’s why you’re taking the class), and she isn’t going to judge you or kick you out of the class for getting something wrong. That’s the whole point of classes, to teach you things that you don’t already know.

I suspect that leaving the studying for this class to the last minute is only going to increase your anxiety, so next time you have homework, try doing the opposite of what your anxiety is telling you to do. For example, if feeling anxious makes you want to avoid doing homework and put it off until the last minute, doing the opposite and doing your homework as soon as you get it could decrease your anxiety. If feeling scared makes you want to stay quiet in class, making the effort to raise your hand and contribute could help you feel more comfortable in class. Good students aren’t students who get everything right all the time. Good students are those students who make an effort to actively participate in the class, ask and answer questions, take guesses, ask for help when they’re stuck, and complete homework. You don’t have to be perfect. Being a good student is just about showing that you’re interested, and showing that you’re trying. 

[sapphospoetrysworld]

(TW) Emotional abuse signs

It's no secret that I spent the last 23 years of my life living with abusive parents. It ranges from physical to verbal to emotional abuse, but in this piece, I'll concentrate on the last one. It's a long read, just want you to know.

Emotional abuse is harder to spot, because it doesn't leave physical evidence behind. No bruises, no broken bones, just a broker mind.

Experiencing it since childhood is devastating. The impact of it haunts for years and years, and sometimes you don't even realize it's there (it's pretty sneaky, and gaslight is a bad one) until you start reading articles or posts about it, or you go to therapy.

I started psychological therapy three years ago, and sadly, I have a mental illness that will be a part of me forever, but I still can learn how to cope with it. I'm trying, and it's hard, I have to admit it. It goes against anything they've ever groomed me to be. It's self care, and I never got to experience that, since I always was too busy being a parent to my parents and trying to separate reality from imagination.

So I decided to compile this list of signs I'm slowly starting to pick up. I think it's important for me, to remind me that I'm not crazy, and to show you that abuse can be sneaky and undetected, unless you educate yourself.

Also, if you are experiencing any type of abuse and you need help, take this as your sign. Go and get better, love. You deserve it. You really do. You are an amazing person and you are worthy of love and respect. I know it's hard, and you can feel ashamed, and if you are not ready, that's okay! Take your time! But please, be as safe as possible.

So here are the SIGNS OF EMOTIONAL ABUSE that I experienced in these past years (Abusive parents) :

• I can't say no.

I feel bad if I deny something to my parents. They make me feel like I should always be there for them, even though they were and are never there for me.

• When I'm successful, it's all about them. When I'm unsuccessful, it's all about me.

Practical examples:

They say it's hard to pay uni taxes and it's really expensive just to make people believe they actually pay for my own education, when in fact I do so. I've been working for five years just to afford my education, and I still struggle with it. They never gave me a cent. But they tell everyone they are the ones doing the hard work to provide me with an education.

They told everyone on Facebook I got *insert maximum score here* at my high school exams. They never share anything on social media, except for when it makes them look good. They use me to get a sick revenge on other family members, when in fact there's no competition (they paint our relatives like some heartless monsters), they fabricated it. They lie about my brother's grades, because they want people to think they are better than what they actually are (creating an impossible standard for my brother to achieve, just because THEY need to look good)

• You are ungrateful, I did everything for you, we are really patient, more than most of the parents out there.

If you were really better, than you wouldn't have a reason to let me know that. I would know as much as you do. But actions speak louder than words, and if you have to constantly remind me of how "good" of a parent you are, coincidentally when I muster up the courage to tell you you did something wrong, than Huston, we have a problem. You are NOT a good parent. You never were, and never will be.

Practical example:

I started buying and hiding my own food when I was 10. I've been buying my own clothes (underwear included) since I was 12. Tampons/pads? I buy them myself. Anything shower related (shampoo, soap, etc)? I buy it myself. Why? Because to them, I don't need new clothes or all those things, I already have them, there are enough, so it's an extra they don't have to pay for. I grew out of my clothes, started my period and was underweight. But, I mean, they were extras, so I have to pay.

• You NEVER tell ANYONE what happens in this house.

Why though? Are you scared of what they will think? If it weren't bad you wouldn't be so adamant on not telling anyone. But you know what happens behind closed doors, and I do too.

P.S. they always told me this, literally since I was a child.

• The only people you can trust are in this family.

But I can't really trust you, can I? Also, trust is gained, not due. I don't have to trust you if you don't give me a reason to do so. And you gave me an overwhelming amount of evidence to prove that I can't trust you.

It's a technique, they want to separate you from the rest of the world, because the less you are exposed to different realities, the easier it is for them to control and manipulate you.

Thank goodness I found some amazing friends out there who are more a family to me than my parents and siblings are. And I will be forever grateful for this blessing.

• Whenever they are arguing with each other, they always find a way to throw me into the discussion, even if I didn't do anything.

So, if they are screaming at my brother because he didn't do his homework, one of them, usually my mother, will say "well, but she didn't do this/did that". And the attention will shift on me.

• They always find a way to try and tear me down.

They will comment on my weight, how I dress, what I do, what I think. And it never is positive.

I had to deal with anorexia and bulimia because they made me hate my body so much, I couldn't even drink water without feeling guilty.

Practical example: Even if I am the only one of their children who actually goes out every weekend I still am "the antisocial one who's always home and never goes out, and stays home wearing pajamas".

• Unrequited comments on my body. "You gained weight", "your butt is so huge, that's disgusting", "your brother is the best looking of all three".

Like, seriously?!? Who even asked you? Who cares? Why are you always trying to make me feel bad? Why do I always feel guilty nonetheless?

They make everything, literally everything into a competition between me and themselves, or me and my siblings. Spoiler alert: you never win. Because this game was built to shatter you in even tinier pieces.

• I'm never good enough. And I will never be good enough.

That's fine, I got that. I will never be perfect, because:

1) perfection doesn't exist,

2) your standards change every damn day.

I can't possibly keep up with it. But that's the whole point. I don't have to keep up, I have to feel bad.

• When someone is mad, I immediately feel guilty. And I will do anything to make them forgive me.

That is what I was thought. It's always your fault, you HAVE to make up for it. Even if it's not my fault.

So you wander this beautiful planet, hoping you don't get a panic attack every time someone raises their voice

• "he's/I'm just in a bad mood. Are you always in a good mood? I don't think so".

And just like that, they are justified for their shitty behaviour. And as always, it's my fault. Because I don't want people to scream at my face if they are in a bad mood. Because I want to be respected. Yeah, it's obviously my fault and I deserve this (*sarcasm alert*)

• They spread bad rumors or "fake news" to make sure everyone believes in their narrative.

So I don't ever help my brother do their homework, even if they kindly asked me. I am lazy, I never help in the house, I never do shit, I am a parasite. I am ungrateful and treat them and my brothers like shit. I never talk to anyone to solve issues, instead I go around and tell everyone they are bad parents, even if they do everything for me and they are so patient.

Want to know the real tea? I am the one who cleans the entire house every day before going to work, and when I come hone at night I have to clean again or else they scream at me.

I gave my brothers basic English lessons for a year. Not my fault they didn't actually study before the exam.

They call me a whore and throw things at me, and I don't even react because I don't want to make things worse, but of course, I am the bad one.

• They constantly lie.

They say they don't go in my bedroom while I'm not home. They say they respect my privacy. They say they paid for everything I have ever done. They say I never do housework and my brothers do everything. They say I always leave all my stuff around and I never clean. They say.

Yes, they also search my room every time I'm out of the house. They steal things and claim they don't have them.

They say they didn't do/say something, but you clearly remember them doing/saying it. And you feel like you're crazy and like you can't even trust yourself.

I'm tired. I really am.

• "you can't decide on what to do with your life/you are lazy/you are indecisive".

So I kept on changing sports when I was a child? Ever wonder why? Was it maybe because I never got to choose? (They always chose the sports I had to play because they were popular and they got compliments from other parents)

And when I did, you made me feel guilty because you were spending time and money to let me do that. Or you made ne believe I wasn't good enough and I was better off that hobby, because I couldn't do it anyway.

I'm not good at singing. I'm not good at writing. I'm not good at drawing. I'm not good at dancing. I'm not good enough. I will never succeed. I will always fail. So why bother trying?

That's it for now. I'll probably add more when I'll have a little more time. It's a work in progress.

[ilovechristopheralexandershaw]

What would your ideal drarry fic be? Like, how would they get together, what tropes would be involved, what would be your ideal story line? Any squicks or triggers or things you aren't interested in? Any HC's with the two of them? :D

THIS IS THREE THOUSAND TWO HUNDRED AND SIXTY SEVEN WORDS OR SOMETHING HELP ME

Whoo boi, honey, lemme tell you, this answer gave me some s t r e s s. Tumblr, can you just...idk, have a save drafts option for asks? No?

Anyways, back to the point. Snuggle down into your blankets y’all, ‘cause this is gonna be one long post.

What would my ideal drarry fic be? Okay, siriusly, legit anything with angst. Copious amounts of angst. Drown me in the angst. I’m always willing to read an angsty fic, almost always as willing to read a fluffy fic and occasionally have an urge for smut but that’s like…every three months or so lmao. I prefer a story that isn’t based on the size of one’s cock. (Sorry if that’s a little crude). I’m fine with any length of fic, as long as it has a good story behind it and if it hopefully has some heart-wrenching moments that make me feel like I might have a soul after all. I love fics that keep their character – not too much, though – and have them arguing with each other all the time – its more real to me, and makes me laugh. I love drarry because of that, because it’s that ship that will keep their relationship, unlike idk shrek and Fiona who fall for each other and lose their old self completely. Drarry is that ship that stays intact and old and new at the same time, and that’s why I love it. 

How would they get together? I have this vision of the two getting together slowly. First it’s banter, insults, hexing, all the while having miscommunication and some serious pining because I’m an absolute sucker for that shit. As I said, angst. Hate turns to like and death threats to exasperated, witty little replies, private jokes between the two of them – a Malfoy Stinks embroidered on his robes in place of Healer Malfoy.

I love fics where there’s just that one, final leap of – I have to do it, otherwise I’ll never get another chance, I don’t care about the consequences. If it’s a kiss that gets them together, in that ‘final chance’ way, I love it when the other is too shocked, and the first person just loses all hope (I mean until like two seconds later when they’re snogging the life out of each other lmao). Basically just a slow build and all the sass 😊 

Tropes? Okay, I’m gonna admit that even though I’ve been in the fandom for a few months, I still can’t define so much, but I hope most of what I write here is legible.

I love coffeeshop Aus, I find them really cute and sweet, and a blushing Malfoy is always a bonus. Eighth year is my absolute jam, unless it’s a drinking fic in which case no thanks. I love friends to lovers or enemies to lovers – the slow build, especially if the author has timed it perfectly, is just argh, I love it. Pining has been mentioned like a hundred times already but I’m going to say it again just because. Roommates are okay, I guess, but not exactly my go-to. I do like muggle Aus, and even though I think Potter should be a teacher, I enjoy the action in an Auror Partners fic, too. Also uh..oops? This was supposed to be tropes that were involved not the tropes you like you dumb butt. That’s not what Nonny asked.

My ideal storyline for a drarry fic? Not sure if this is what you’re asking but I’m gonna go with it and if I’m wrong then I’m wrong y’know?

As I said, I like fics with pining. I love a number of storylines, but I’m just gonna choose one for this thing since it’s already almost if not over two thousand words (is anyone even reading this? Who cares, I’m having fun) okay I checked its like over 2600 help me. Also this turned out into a fic not an ideal storyline hhhhhhhh

I guess I like fics with slow-building pining, going from meeting together at work or having to work together for some reason in eighth year, or just seeing each other in eighth year. PTSD gets them together, but so does the (admittedly weaker) banter, since nobody understands either of them – the Saviour and the Ex Death Eater. The press is still going off about the war, and everyone has their own ways of coping. Soon enough, they’re friends – (ok let’s pretend this is eight year) and helping each other through the bad days. And soon enough, the insults that hit closer to home for others but not them, the inside jokes, the love of Quidditch, the homework assistance – all this time around each other turns to pining. Malf-Draco, with his white-blond hair and black turtlenecks that he kept even though that was what he wore as a Death Eater. With his now self-deprecating jokes instead of hurtful insults. With his smile, that shows his sneer lines of the past. With his blue-gray eyes. With his knowing smirk when they’ve done one of their own eighth year pranks. Even with his wonky Charms and obsession with stroking the Dark Mark and the way he stops in front of the Room of Requirement every time they pass. And Harry, with his mop of untidy hair and glasses that have had Reparo used on them who knows how many times by now? With his bright green eyes, with his surprisingly pale skin, with the way he disappears into the forest every now and then, staring at the clearing where Voldemort once thought him dead. They pine, they’re oblivious, and finally, Pansy spills it to draco, an exasperated ‘will you kiss him or not’ just as Harry rounds the corner in his invisibility cloak. ‘are you stupid. Pans? We’re just friends.’ (wow ideal storyline this is a mini fic by now what am I doing with life my math sheet is like right in front of me I should be doing that). The questions, that night, in their respective beds. And the finale, with Harry rethinking ‘we’re just friends’ in his head in the final Seeker-to-seeker game, Draco leaning in.

Finally. 

Okay, squicks. Here we go. First of all, I don’t really like fics where they speak really…I don’t know, childishly? To each other eg. too many cheesy pet names (‘Hi hun,’ he giggled, taking the offered plate), since my idea of drarry is a couple that banters all the time, not one that sits around squealing at each other. That’s the main reason I ship them, after all.

Another squick, although this just annoys me more than makes me uncomfortable, is when there’s a fic involving children where the author makes their speech like that of a baby. Five year olds and younger can make legible sentences, so it’s sometimes irritating when eight-year-old Scorpius is saying ‘dada give h-h-hoog’ if you get my drift.

Daddy kink is another thing. If you like it, good for you but personally, I- *shudders* no thanks. It’s just – okay, my dad’s like over fifty, and that’s what I imagine if I think of that. Sex with my dad? I’ll pass. Calling your boyfriend your ‘daddy’? I- no no no just no I’m sorry but no.

Okay, I’ll rephrase. Most, if not all kinks make me uncomfortable – I’ve said daddy already, Parseltongue (just any other language) is just weird to me (it’s not disgusting, I just find it kind of dubious I guess.), any sort of pet play is similar if not worse than daddy kink, choking or breath play sounds more like rape (I’m crude, handle it), lingerie is just hella weird and I don’t even want to know what tentacles are, thank you very much. I’ll stick to my vanilla sex.

Any sort of sex toy/tool use is also a squick (including painful BDSM stuff), but I’m not sure if that’s kink so I’ll just add it here.

I don’t mind OOC fics, but, again, if they’re too soft (unless it’s some sort of caring angsty oneshot e.g. most of @rose-grangerweasleyisbae ‘s ones) then they most likely don’t work with me either. 

Triggers? No, I haven’t read any fics that have triggered me in any way and I’m not sure if I have any. Most are squicks.

Fics, or tropes, I guess, that I’m not interested in would include either one being some sort of Magical Creature (although there are some exceptions – some writers make really good fics with these tropes), and by that I mean any humanoid creature such as a werewolf, vampire etc. Veela especially. Also, anything with mates. (Fun fact, in my first answer that got deleted, I wrote a headcanon fic thing with draco as a bowtruckle since I said I don’t know if that’s a squick bc I’ve never read it and decided to do it for fun)      

Dunno what this is, but I’m gonna include it as well – I also don’t like fics where their entire supposedly ‘loving’ relationship is completely based on sex. I’m okay with it if they’re supposed to be fuckbuddies at that point in the relationship, but if this is what the author is calling their ‘established relationship’, I don’t really like it. 

Any fic that loses the banter after their getting together, where their world and source of happiness is completely revolving around the other – that is also one of my disinterests. As I said, I ship drarry for the sass and banter (and angst). Not the sappy love. 

I don’t really like unhealthy relationships – I read a fic where the whole reason Draco allowed Potter to date him was because he complimented his flying skills, not because he liked him. That’s a really minor example, but basically any fic without actually liking each other or as I said, an unhealthy relationship, doesn’t take my fancy. Unless, of course, they’re fixing it. 

A fic that starts somewhere in the books, eg. third year or something, don’t normally take my fancy, but, again, there is the occasional exception that I turn out to love.

Not exactly Drarry but any poly relationships with the two of them are also a disinterest – I feel like they’re the ones for each other. Dunno if this sounds polyphobic or whatever it’s called, and it probably does, but that’s not it. I just personally don’t think Drarry need another person. Other ships, maybe. Drarry? Not for me. 

Eighth year fics that are based on drinking and drinking games also aren’t my thing (omg there’s like eight million alsos here what am i doing don’t shoot me please (ok i fixed it)). I just don’t like them. 

And fics with any sort of bonding lose my interest pretty quickly, especially sexual magic bonds. Mpreg, as well, again, I’ll read the occasional fic but most of the time I don’t really like it. 

Age difference, again, are something I find strange, and I can go on for hours but this is now around three thousand words and I should stop so y’all can go read your fics lmao.

 And um I’ll give you two headcanons as my way of apologising for the unbelievably late reply

 Harry, lying on the ground, blood dripping from a massive slash in his stomach, chest barely moving, lips slightly parted, tinged red with drying blood

Malfoy, now just a colleague, they’ve lost the schoolboy animosity, hovering over him, wand casting diagnostic spells even though he knows they’re no use – he knows the curse but he doesn’t know the exact variation – and the wrong healing spell will kill the Saviour – he can’t take that chance.

‘Scared, Malfoy?’

His head jerks up, pale eyes widening at the old question thrown back at him. Shoulders slump, his lungs heaving from all he spells he’s cast

‘Yes’ 

Idk just the idea of that final admittance – yes. Idk, just, my heart, man.

Okay headcanon 2 which is more of a fic by this point (someone help me im so bad at headcanons. Like this is all fleshed out in my head but ugh)

Eighth year holidays, Draco is sitting alone at the blazing fire in the common-room, strangely enough knitting, as he talks, friendly but quiet to a surprisingly happy Moaning Myrtle (the common room is where the old bathroom was)

Hermione Jean Granger sits down next to him and he flinches, almost expecting a slap like third year – he’s had hexes from Muggleborns who had nothing to do with the war, and here’s the Saviour’s friend – of course she’s gonna –

She pulls out a massive textbook, quill, inkpot, blotting paper and three rolls of parchmment from her bag, tucks her bushy hair behind one ear, and starts scratching away

He’s surprised, but still too nervous to ask why

It becomes a habit, her sitting there there, him as well, talking to Myrtle, doing Potions work, knitting as well

They start talking to each other, he finds out she Obliviated her parents and doesn’t want to come back just yet, even though she knows the Dark Lord’s gone

She finds out he’s too scared to go home, with all the memories

They become friends of sorts, helping each other when they can

When the holidays end, there are a few double takes, but nobody really questions it. After all, it’s Hermione, she never was too against Malfoy (nobody really saw that slap) and she’s always been a rule-follower. They assume its part of Mcgonagall’s asking for peace between Slytherins and Gryffindors

I mean, Ron does complain about her hanging about the ferret nowadays and not around her boyfriend, but he gets it. Besides, their ‘sessions’, if you will, are always when there’s Quidditch practice for Harry and Ron (they help train the younger years)

So yeah, it’s not too bad (and this isn’t Dramione I promise although I do ship it occasionally)

One day, though, she brings out a bundle of knitting herself. To his surprise, she knits a single sock and puts it in a box

He asks her why

‘For Dobby’

And he remembers. He remembers the strange little house elf, the one he loved as a kid but had no way of showing it. He remembers his father’s hatred of that elf in particular He remembers scowling at the poor thing, ranting to it – it was a way of venting, but in true Malfoy-raised fashion, he’d been so cruel to it as well, laughing as it jammed its fingers in doors, encouraging its pain.

He leaves the common room early that night

Next day, the Golden Trio isn’t there. Hermione (no longer Granger) isn’t there

He knitted a single sock that morning himself. He’d heard the story from their talks. He wanted to contribute. A way of apology, if you will. If it even counted. Today’s the day the elf passed away, and Hermione had said she put a sock in there for everyone

It’s pretty obvious where they’ve gone. He Apparates there after class, and finds the grave easily. It’s got a bundle of Conjured flowers, stems wrapped around the rock that serves as a headstone, and the box of socks is right there too. (what am I doing this is meant to be a short drarry hc and I haven’t even brought potter in yet help)

He starts crying

He spent last night remembering. Remembering how even through all the pain he caused that elf, a single smile, a single ‘thanks for listening, Dobby’ would make the elf bow and weep at his feet. He remembers how cruel he was, how the elf just…took it in his stride. He remembers losing the house elf, realising Potter had stolen something else of his. He remembers

And he lets it go. He spills all of it to a gravestone, apologies and ‘I know it won’t mean anything’ and ‘I didn’t know but that’s no excuse’ and ‘you always listened, how did you always listen?’ and ‘thank you’ and most of all ‘I’m so so sorry’ stumbling over each other as he tries to explain, to finally let it out

He’s crying and sniffling and that’s making it even harder to speak but he needs to say this, even though Dobby is dead, even though he’s apologised to so many people – this is one of the few that listened to him, and he’s treated the elf like garbage.

Tears drip onto the single sock in his hands

It’s hours later when he finishes. Well, not exactly finished, but he’s said enough that he thinks he’s explained himself and said sorry – even though it’ll never be enough. He’s cast a Light Charm (not a lumos ok it’s bigger don’t correct me) and he leans over to put the now-damp sock into the box too. A final ‘I’m so sorry’ and he stands up, turns around

And comes face to face with the Golden Trio

Hermione stares at him, then grabs him in a massive hug

Ron looks at him, slightly awkwardly but at her glare, he offers a tight smile

 And Harry? (wow how long has it taken for me to get here god) is just staring. Openmouthed. Who knew Malfoy had felt this much about a house elf?

And yeah that’s the point where he realises Malfoy isn’t that bad and then they go back to Bill and Fleur’s (Hermione explains along the way that they went back to the grave bc they saw the Charm and were in shock – was Dobby back?)

‘did you hear all of it?’

‘we heard enough, Draco’

 And when they get back to Hogwarts, well, it’s slow building at first. Potions help when Hermione’s out on a date with Ron, a butterbeer in the school kitchens on a Hogsmeade weekend when they want to hide from the public but enjoy the drink

But over time, the pining and the miscommunication and Draco getting back to his (albeit weak) banter with Potter leads to one thing. You know what it is.

Drarry

You know what I’m having fun writing trashy hcs so here’s a third (although it ain’t drarry. It ain’t any ship)

Alright so there is no hairdresser at Hogwarts or Hogsmeade or anywhere near the castle (I mean it was never mentioned in the books was it so this is possibly canon)

Therefore, most kids have to use spells

But we all know that each of us probably has a haircut that is somehow slightly different to one another, and there aren’t that many hair care spells in the world let alone known by a few teachers in Hogwarts

While some kids know exact spells, others, for example, Muggleborns, just use Diffindio

I mean, it gets their hair cut, yeah? That’s pretty much all they need

Of course, Hermione knows each and every spell but let’s not get to that

And Malfoy uses his own spell and a litre of Sleekeazy every morning

But since everyone else cuts their own hair, it looks as bad as each other

And that’s why Harry wasn’t teased too much about his hair (yes, also bc he’s the Saviour bUT STILL)

That’s why Sirius had long hair and etc.

Basically none of the kids at Hogwarts really had good hair and they all looked like Halt from Ranger’s apprentice (also this one is long as heck I could’ve just said everyone uses diffindio and there’s no hairdresser why am I like this)