#CHOSE it. CHOSE to help. miguel on the other hand…kinda…didn’t? it’s weird. he HAD to help others to help himself. or at least that’s what

[variousqueerthings]

Johnny and ADHD

alright, I’ve wanted to write something about ADHD Johnny for awhile now.

Waaay back in February @deliciousbananavoidpurse made this post and I made some haphazard additions, but now, at last, I ramble!

This isn’t really an addition to that list so much as a... idk, seeing it from an almost fic-but-kind-of-meta point of view. Those points In Practise, with an additional young Johnny.

1.

Johnny’s a kid. He and his mom have been living hand-to-mouth for as long as he remembers, in and out of schools, in and out of apartments and cars. Of course he’s going to be flighty, spaced-out, unfocused.

He’s an easy target – not very big (he doesn’t get a lot of good meals), dirty clothes, and… weird. He gets beaten up sometimes, but mostly he sticks as much to himself as he can and doesn’t go to school if he can help it. Laura saves up and gets him a walkman.

After that it’s like the world doesn’t exist to him at all.

She thinks that’s easier than trying to make him live in it. But he deserves better. They both do. So she makes a decision that changes everything…

2.

Johnny’s not going hungry these days. In fact, he eats constantly, like he’s making up for lost time. His clothes are new and he gets anything he wants. He’s enrolled in school properly.

But Johnny himself doesn’t change much. He’s vibrating with an energy he can’t explain – normal for boys – he skips school, he goes off somewhere in his own mind, struggles with making friends, gets into fights he can’t win, and all day he listens to music. Still skinny, still flighty, still weird.

Tries new things that become all-encompassing for him and drops them one day to the next – normal for boys, all normal for boys – and then -

3.

Johnny sees those boys: Tall, broad, leather jackets, rad bikes, shining, beautiful. He watches them through the window for hours, transfixed in a way only riding his bike and listening to music used to do. 

He joins Cobra Kai.

And finally, like a dam breaking, he focuses. He focuses like he’s a machine. Like nothing else matters. He takes everything happening at home, every beating he ever took, every failing grade (he tries, but school never manages to matter – the other Cobras help, simply by being there and sometimes especially Bobby forces him to sit down and write a paper, but he’ll never be smart, that’s fine), and he puts them into his fist.

He trusts Kreese to tell him what to think, what to feel, what to do. Finally, finally, everything makes sense. It’s just him and his body and someone he trusts telling him what to do with it. 

Nothing else matters.

4.

There are other things that matter. 

He’s getting his life in order so he can leave Sid’s and take his Mom with him. He’s going to be the right kind of boyfriend to Ali. He’ll do well enough in his final year to make up for the previous ones, and he’s got karate, and Kreese, who’s telling him he’s the champ. 

Who he can trust.

But he gets into trouble, he drinks, his grades continue to slip, and suddenly (or is it gradually, he can’t tell with time sometimes) Ali is telling him he’s changed – angry, volatile, forgetful, (okay he was always forgetful, but it’s getting worse – is karate the only thing he cares about?), but it’s fine, he can fix that too. He just has to change everything that doesn’t work. If he can be that good at karate, it just means he’s not trying hard enough everywhere else. Just needs to try harder.

Just. Easy. He has a plan. He has a hundred plans.

5.

It all blows up in his face and suddenly he’s faced with the truth: that there really is nothing he’s good for. Karate? What’s that ever gotten him? What else has he got to show for it? 

He’s still just the same kid he was – alright, he’s bigger, babes will stop and check him out, he’s learned how to charm people if he has to, but those are just scripts and they don’t work for long if he doesn’t have anything else to back them up and they bore him - they bore him in ways he thinks have gotta be different to what everyone else means when they say they’re bored. 

He doesn’t have a plan. He has a hundred plans. He doesn’t have anyone to tell him what to do. He doesn’t know what to do. He knows what to do.

He drinks more. What does it matter, he’s young, life’s short, there’s nothing he can learn now (and really, if you know a couple of things you can scrape by – when they turn off the lights he knows he forgot to pay the bills, when he gets arrested he knows he fucked up and let his emotions get away with him), and before he knows it it’s 2002.

6.

His mom dies. Robby is born. Someone smarter than him could figure out some kind of poetic meaning behind that, but he’s not smart, so he just lets the moments pass him by like everything else has passed him by.

He’s getting by with what he knows. The world outside is like a blur. He’s got what he’s always had: music, a car, his looks. He’s doing okay for someone in his mid-thirties who doesn’t know how to boil spaghetti and drinks first thing in the morning.

 Probably all the fighting. He kept it up, informally. Maybe because it’s too deep in his bones for him to let go of, even if it just reminds him over and over that he couldn’t take it. That he can’t take it.

He fights whenever it all gets to be too much and even the drinking doesn’t work. Sometimes he punches walls to fight himself. It’s like a sharp feeling that he can’t ignore that can only be silenced with fighting. The off-button.

7.

2017 (again, the past is a blur. 2017? what happened to thirty-five? What happened to being young? Someone who’s young is allowed to be like this, but he’s…)

He never owned a computer. He never learned new words or anything else that wasn’t immediately important. He makes a handshake deal, because his credit is shit, but also because he never figured out how contracts really work. He still struggles with bills (you can leave anything to the last minute and beyond and things can still turn out okay), struggles with communication. His old scripts don’t work any more and he can’t learn new ones. He’s forgotten enough promises he made to watch Robby’s matches or drive him to school – even his birthday sometimes, even when he writes it down and forgets where he wrote it down - that Robby wants nothing more to do with him. Forgets groceries. 

He’ll do or say something and people will look at him like he’s stupid and he doesn’t know why. He refuses to ask, because he just wants the looks to go away. He knows he’s stupid. He knows he can’t figure things out. He knows, okay? Shut up.

He’s not an alcoholic. He just drinks to wake up. To forget. To calm down (that electricity that existed in his body as a kid never went away, even though he’s so so tired. The machine inside of him that won’t shut off without a fight, won’t let him stop moving). To sleep. To drink. To do something.

He sees Miguel and has a hundred new plans. He sees the future like it’s right there and a million miles away. He was never good at implementing long-term plans. He thinks maybe karate can save him, just like it did when he was a kid. 

8.

There’s something wrong with his brain. Has been all his life. That’s not how he was told, he was given a bunch of tests and gently informed – undiagnosed it can lead to some of the problems you’ve had, it’s normal, it’s okay – like he’s dying of cancer. But that’s the gist of it. He didn’t fuck up because he didn’t try hard enough, he was always going to fuck up. That doesn’t make him feel better.

It means quitting the alcohol is gonna fail. It means he really is stupid. It means he could’ve never been the kid his mom needed. It means he was easy for Kreese to manipulate. It means Robby could be fucked up too and he’s failed him again. It means he’s not worth the time and pain that people invest in him, like his mom, Ali, Shannon, Robby, Bobby, Miguel, Carmen, Daniel -

“Hey.”

It means he’s got Emotional Dysregulation. Translated: he’s the kind of man who has to work extra hard not to cry (explains why he was such a pussy as a kid. Also explains all the pain in his chest and throat right before roughly... 70% of his most recent fights). And fuck, he just failed.

“What?” Anger is better. It’s also a dysregulation apparently, but it’s better than being weak.

“It’s okay,” says Daniel, and of course he’d think that – he’s never seen a nameable problem he didn’t wanna fix, but didn’t you hear LaRusso, you can’t fix this. Never could. 

“It’s not about fixing,” answers Daniel. “It’s about understanding. It’s about knowing who you are. If you know who you are, you can make a choice.”

“What kinda choice do I have?”

Daniel shrugs. “You chose to take in Miguel. You chose not to fight me, more times than I chose to fight you in the last couple of years. You chose that you wanted to know who you were. And you chose to try being sober. Those are all good decisions in my book. Anything else… we can figure things out from here. Trust me.”

He places a hand on the back of Johnny’s neck, grounding him. Daniel has that power. The power to make everything okay for a second. 

Johnny thinks: Please tell me what to do. I was always okay once you gave me something to do. Like karate. Figuring things out is… too abstract. Eventually though, he knows, if he’s patient, Daniel will tell him what to do next. 

He just has to trust him.

9. (Extra: things Johnny does, because of the brain he has)

Johnny trusts easily, despite it all. He’s honest (and sometimes too literal). He’s passionate. He’s driven. He’s loving. He feels, so so much. He’s protective and he’s loyal. He tries his hardest, even when everything – including his own brain – refuses to help. He believes in second chances for others (and he’s beginning to believe in it for himself). He’s good with kids when he lets himself be. He’s learning to be gentle with himself and others. He’s learning that bravery takes many shapes. He’s learning that he can learn, and he’s learning what he needs for that to happen. He’s a good mentor. He’s learning to be a better friend. He’s kind. He’s honourable. He’s trying to rectify his own mistakes, and he’s trying not to let the mistakes of others continue to impact his life. He’s moving forwards.

[nickiplague]

Truth Inconceivable - Artistic Genius ch. 8

Hey there! Humble author here leaving an offering of a story! *cough cough* Uh…long time no read, huh? I'm soo sorry for this stupid long wait, but here is the next installment! I had a sorta semi-collaboration with my pal ReaperJ borrowed his portrayal of a character in here from his story..."Scarred For Life" it is a kinda peek at a prequel character. He helped write for how his character would behave and helped get this chapter FINALLY up. Don't know when the next after this will be coming, but yeah…please attempt to enjoy this and have a lovely day…forgive me! If you like this please review! By the way, can anyone else find my other chapters? I'm not sure it they just vanished period, can no longer be searched, or what...

As we were guided down the hall to another room several people were whispering amongst themselves about whatever they wanted I tried to talk to Mabel but she just looked down and ignored me. We came to a stop at a room that had several tables and chairs with crayons at one, finger paints at another, and watercolors at a table right by an observation area.

It looked as though there were different things at each table, but I was distracted by raised voices ahead of us as one of the guys I hadn't met was holding up the line and looking reluctant to enter the room.

“I’m… I’m not ready… please don’t send me… in there…!” I glanced at Joey who was shaking his head with a pained expression. I looked back to the front, poor guy looked as if he was gonna break down.

“Com’on kid, doc’s orders. This happens every time you have to come to art class, there isn’t anything in there for you to hurt anyone with, NOW GET IN!?” The young man was shoved into the room as everybody filed in.

He just stood there looking all around the room as he started to sweat and shake. I couldn't help but notice his expression, an animal trapped with nowhere to go. We all filed in slowly after that spectacle was over, I didn't expect anything quite so… crazy… yeah my bad, I'm being stupid now.

Getting a better look from the guy earlier, he looked about fourteen and Hispanic. All he did was keep his eyes on the table not moving or saying anything, seemed like no one wanted to sit with him.

“Hey, Joey… what’s his deal?” I point over to the kid, I think he was in one of the rooms closest to the end of the hall...

“Him? Look… I don’t have anything bad to say about the guy, just keep your distance. Marco only talks to his mother and some chick that visits him every week.”

“Is he violent or something?”

“Drop it man, you don’t need to know everyone’s history that’s in here…”

“…okay…” He led me and Mabel to the table right by the guy, Everyone else had claimed the other tables and there wasn't room for all five of us.

One of the orderlies got everyone's attention, “Alright then. Let's all have a calm, peaceful time here in art therapy. Remember, just express yourself. Let your feelings flow onto the page. Stephanie, please refrain from covering yourself in paint.” With a strained smile he backed up into the observation room and, seemingly forgetting the wall and door were glass, slumped in defeat against the door.

“It’s just finger paint… it’s just finger paint… it’s just finger paint…” As Marco muttered, barely audible, his finger hovered over the red paint. He wrinkled his nose as if smelling something foul, looking as though he was gonna gag.

“No… stop it…” He was still muttering, but Joey jabbed me in the gut and said to stop staring. Glancing around I could see that everyone else in the room was already working on their projects paying no mind to him.

Mabel actually had a pretty big smile on her face for the first time that morning. She was talking to the guys about her crafts she did back home and in Gravity Falls and complaining about the lack of glitter.

“Hey Dip, aren't ya gonna get started? If ya don't you're gonna get a Mabel original made for you instead!” Mabel reached 'threateningly’ towards my paper with pink and green stained hands.

“I'm getting to it! Ha,” I reached for some paint and choosing at random and just making generic yellow shapes. “I need to find my inspiration, I'm not an artistic genius like you Mabes!”

A moment later someone else plopped down beside Mabel, “I…like your style…chaotic with just…the slightest touch of…order…” The infamous Stomper had shoved in between Mabel and Sammy, further crowding our table. “I'm Stephanie…self-proclaimed…artistic genius heh…our kind are…a little…rare, huh?” She reached out a hand that was coated already in at least five different colors.

Mabel froze when Stephanie forced herself in, but after a second she was grinning again and without anymore hesitation shook Stephanie's hand. So brave. Mabel, so brave. “Oh uh hi! I don't know if I'm an artistic genius, buuuut I do love making things! I've made hundreds of sweaters! And I am definitely a glitter…a…a fish…innuendo? Yeah! A fish innuendo!” It took all my willpower not to face palm with my hand of paint.

I glanced to the side to see Marco looking down at his hands covered in red paint. His face was glazed over as his fingers began to jab at the canvas, “Just…just express yourself, huh? Let your feelings flow onto the page? Yeah…let’s do that!”

“Oh shit…he’s doing it again…” Joey was working on his project and kept an eye on Marco.

“Huh…what’s going?” Is Marco…okay? Is he smiling now? He looked like he was going to fall apart a minute ago…

“You’re not going to let up, are you?” Joey points out Marco's canvas for me to look at.

“It just looks like a mess- wait…is…is he drawing a body…?” What was with that?

“Looks like that right now, just give it a few more minutes…”

Glancing back at my own paper I suddenly realized I was painting a particular triangular psychopath…maybe not in as much detail, but there weren't too many thoughts in mind when it came to yellow triangles…

“Oh yeah dude, you hungry too? I love nachos. Been a while since we had any decent nachos, right Sammy?” Miguel was leaning over the table looking at my paper. “Hey! Yeah nachos are bomb, man! I think I heard Marco talking to one of the shrinks about making awesome nachos before…wonder how good he is at that…” Sammy had moved as far as he could away from 'the stomper’ and gotten on with his…was that a walrus with a top hat…? Okay then…

“Just a little more over here… yeah, yeah just like that…” Glancing over I could see Marco adding more red to create shadows and contrast his artwork.

.”Dip, I think I'm enjoying this a little…that's weird huh? Hahaha! Now quit staring like a weirdo and get back to painting…” Mabel had glanced down to my page, seeing the many yellow triangles and not being fooled for a second. “Oh…Bill huh? You okay bro-bro?”

“Oh uh-” A female orderly with a bright smile walked out and cleared her throat to get our attentions, effectively cutting me off.

“Alright everybody, wrap everything up if you could and leave your pieces at your seats. Do not take the supplies, you will be checked by your respective dorm managers before you leave and it will just mean suspension of privileges.” She clapped her hands and repeated the announcement once more before she gestured to colleagues in the observation room.

“No worries, just need to add my name at the bottom…there!” In the silence immediately following the announcement I heard Marco's voice and jumped looking back instinctively. He was breathing heavy, looking over the canvas and the name at the bottom…that was too long to be Marco…R…a…p…

Joey got me in my ribs this time, “Dude! If you're gonna stare, why not make it a little less obvious maybe?” He rolled his eyes and shook his head at me as I blushed at being caught…again…

I surreptitiously gestured at Marco's picture, “It’s…a tree…but it was a human body a few minutes ago?” But I can still see the body…it’s part of the tree… “Wh…why wo-” Joey motioned for me to face our table.

“That’s what he does, always starts off as a body at first and then ends with something else. He only uses red and it takes a lot out of him when he gets in that state.” I could tell that Joey felt bad for Marco, I heard him muttering about the 'damn orderlies messing with kids for kicks.’

I got up and stared at my hands for a moment, finally realizing that they were covered in paint. “Uh…what do we do about…” glancing about I saw the few who chose finger painting were headed to a corner of the room next to the observation room to a single sink.

Stephanie had instead walked up to the glass wall and begun painting on it. She was able to make a recognizable rhino in the 10 seconds it took for the flabbergasted orderly to get up and out of the room. Cursing while dragging the struggling stomper to the front of the sink line. “No! It's not finished! I barely started it!” Stephanie kept yelling while her hands were forced under the water and washed clean. When I looked back at the room the rhino had a small pig next to it and then it was Mabel's turn at the sink.

Okay so that was…a fucking long time coming…geez wait forever for that babbling trash…sorry I hope this brings you some degree of enjoyment. Don't know when the next part will come out, hopefully eventually…so sorry once again. Thanks Reaper for helping me out and letting me borrow your portrayal of...oh well might as well say the obvious, Marco. I know I wouldn't have been able to write it the way you did what capture your Marco the way you did.

By the way I have a Ko-Fi now...if you feel like it, check it out I guess? Just remove the spaces!

https:// www . ko-fi . com / nicki_plague