#My mom tells strangers about how I was such a “picky child” | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wh6res · 3 years

Text

UP IN SMOKES — DOYOUNG

psych student! kdy | tw. college au, violence, a knife, GASLIGHTING, hallucination, psychosis, swearing, just pure manipulation, minor charac death, there's a court scene, this is a repost! | wc. 10k she a beast

life could’ve been simple;

you shouldn't have met kim doyoung.

what does a freshman in college hate the most other than the high-stress levels of moving into a new dorm? a shitty roomie and a smelly, moldy mattress. the girl you call roommate refuses to help move the mattress because it will ruin her new manicure. what a fucking classic.

"sounds like a 'you' problem. figure it out yourself, plain jane."

she said before heading out, annoyingly popping her bubblegum as she kicks a few of your scattered boxes by the front door. you roll your eyes; classes haven't even started yet, so why is she already making your life miserable? as much as you'd like to snap at her, you don't, merely glaring daggers at her back as she finally turns the corner of the hallway and disappears.

"bitch," you mutter under your breath.

you eye the abomination that is supposed to be your bed, cursing how you shouldn't have made a 15-minute pit stop to starbucks for a drink when you could've just bought one from the instant coffee vending machines in every corner of the hallway of this dorm building because if you didn't, maybe you could've beaten regina george wannabe from taking the better bed. sighing, you suck it up and start getting to work. life's full of shit, anyway; no point sulking.

moving a moldy mattress is easier than you thought, to say the least. you can't ask for help from the other freshmen you bumped into in the hallway because they, too, are under a huge amount of stress from the move and are busy getting their affairs in order. it was a good thing, though, that a committee was formed specifically for this day to help out the freshmen if they were to stumble upon problems or mishaps with moving in. they were all around the campus, and they prove to be way friendlier than your batch mates. since this morning, three people have already offered help in carrying your luggage — which you have politely declined.

"hey, uhm… is this the stall for the welcoming committee? oh, wait. i'm sorry, there's a sign right there —"ugh.

you mentally shut your eyes in humiliation. why do you have to be this bad, this awkward at communicating with strangers? why couldn't you be born like all those socialites who already (probably) got their contacts filled with new numbers on the first day of school or something?

"yeah, this is them — welcoming committee, i mean. how can i help you?" he smiles, sweet, radiating the epitome boy next door aura as he looks up at you from where he's sitting behind the stall. your eyes quickly land onto the name tag stuck on his varsity jacket before meeting his eyes again.

"i have an issue with my mattress. it has mold, you see..." your voice slowly trails, becoming quieter as you feel small under the weight of his piercing stare. oh, come on. he's just a guy with a beautiful face, woman the fuck up.

"really? let me see..."

he needn't finish rounding the stall when his nose is hit by the pungent smell brought forth by your mattress. frankly, you weren't that picky. you could've covered it with bedsheets and call it a day, but the odor is too strong to ignore. you mentally hope the smell didn't latch onto your clothes, especially not when someone so cute is around — what a bad first impression.

"oh, god!" he exclaims the moment he lays eyes on it, taking a step back. “now, that has to go. and you lugged it from the fourth floor?"

ah, yes. according to tradition in these dormitories, which you've only found out today, freshmen get the curse of climbing four flights of stairs up while the seniors strut into their rooms on the ground floor like the hallway is a goddamned runway.

"doyoung! help me carry these!"

someone calls his name as you both turn your head to spot a chestnut-haired girl clad in the same varsity jacket he's wearing. you grimace at the sight of her. for someone so small, she just had to volunteer to carry all those heavy bags. however, he doesn't move in front of you and brushes her off as if she doesn't look like she's carrying rocks over her shoulders. "i'm already helping someone else! go find taeyong or something. i'm sure that shit's loitering around here somewhere!"

"oh, it's okay, you can go help her. i'll just look for someone else —"

"nah, it's fine!" you try hard to school your face into indifference when you notice his gummy smile. "plus… trust me when i say no other person from the committee will help you with this. this shit smells like my roommate's sweaty basketball socks!"

you can't help the smile forming on your face as you help him carry the mattress off to the side of the hallway, the stinky thing leaning vertically against the wall and behind a huge terracotta plant pot. "don't worry, let's report it to student affairs so they'll get you a new one. congrats! you'll have to share beds with your new roommate tonight, freshie. it'd be a great ice breaker."

the universe truly hates you.

your expression must've been a dead give away because he's suddenly patting your shoulder, regarding you with utmost sympathy. "been there, done that. i hated taeyong, too, when i met him last year. still, for some mind fuck of a miracle, we've grown to be friends and developed a talent of not wanting to kill each other every two seconds."

"highly doubt i'd be friends with a regina george-level bitch, but thanks, anyway," you mutter under your breath. suddenly, you whip your head towards him after internalizing what he just said. "you met your roommate last year? you're a sophomore?"

he scoffs, leaning down to your height to lowly mutter against your ear as he eyes the lobby's front desk. "why? do i look like some 4th year who radiates 'don't touch me' energy?"

you feel the heat on your cheeks with how close he is, only releasing an exhale when he finally gets out of your personal space. "i'm kim doyoung. you've heard it from wendy earlier, but anyway — i'm a 2nd-year psych major."

"no way!" you exclaim, a little too excited. "i'm taking psych, too!"

"oh, you are? well, if you need anything or if you don't understand stuff…" he winks. "feel free to approach me anytime."

hmm… how sweet of him.

it was only hours later that you found out who kim doyoung is in your department during the acquaintance party. and for god's sake, you found out from your best friend who is a major in english lit and has never even seen the guy. "seriously, you didn't know he's a genius? i hear the professors call him a prodigy, girl! a fucking prodigy. if i were you, i'd ask for his help in every subject."

"you know i prefer keeping to myself. how'd i know stuff like that when i have no one to talk to in the psych dorms?" you look down, making the ice cubes in your drink clink against each other. "i didn't think he was this big shot or whatever. he looks normal, and everyone treats him normally."

"well, what do you expect?" she hisses, hitting your arm. "the other students don't want to make him feel alienated or something just because he's tons smarter than them. but anyway… the real question is…"

you roll your eyes when she pauses for effect, tentatively leaning closer to whisper under her breath.

"is he cute?"

you didn't want to answer her question, but he's been stuck in your head since he offered walking with you to the student affairs office. doyoung had smiled his cute gummy smile and had even ruffled your hair before leaving you for committee duties — saying he's cute would be an understatement.

"you have no idea."

for his first act;

he gains your trust.

fast forward to one year, many things have changed, but the only constant remaining is the handsome sophomore — who is now a 3rd-year, by the way — whom you've met on your first day. coursework has been pretty tough this year. instead of the content written in your textbook, your mind is plagued by the horrible twist of fate your best friend had encountered; she didn't have enemies. or so you thought.

she disappeared in the middle of christmas break last year. her beaten up body was found only a month later, in january, floating around the university's lake. happy fucking new year.

the first time she chose to spend the holidays with you instead of her family back in her hometown, and that happens? some rotten luck you both have. it's why you didn't put it past her family to hate your guts with strong convictions. it's okay. the feeling's mutual. after all, it had been your best friends' own family, the same ones who had been so willing to take you in when you got kicked out, that were so eager to pin you as the murderer of their child. all under the argument that you have been the last person seen with her.

oh, the things her mom said about you when she had stormed into the police station, red in the face, tears streaming down her cheeks..."i warned my baby not to hang out with that — that bitch. came straight out of a cursed family, that one. abusive dad, a nutjob mom. that bitch is a danger! probably got her dad's nasty temper and beat my baby to death! i want her on the electric chair!"

in those times, you once again realize this world is fucked up and cruel in every bit of its glory as you fought tooth and nail to defend yourself. but even then, they never believed you — the law will only favor the rich . the prosecution had been so sure it was you until a certain witness appeared and presented himself before the jury.

"do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?"

doyoung raises his right hand, fixing his stare straight at the judge. "i solemnly and sincerely declare that the evidence i shall give will be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth."

"how long have you known the defendant?" the prosecutor asks, arms crossed in front of her chest as she paces in front of the witness stand.

the boy briefly meets your gaze, and it's enough to make his heart sink. doyoung can't bear seeing you in those grey overalls when he knows it himself. you're being accused of a crime you didn't commit. "i've known her for one year."

"how'd you meet?"

and the questions went on and on; your defense attorney isn't all too keen on winning the case and had never once yelled "objection!" in her seat, but what could you expect? all the evidence kept stacking against you, and some of those you knew were even fabricated. you've never felt this hopeless in your whole twenty years of living.

"what's the point in this, anyway?" doyoung snapped in the witness stand, fiercely glaring at the prosecutor. "how is my history — or lack thereof — with the defendant any relevant to the case? you're not even asking me about evidence nor what my statement is!"

"easy there," the prosecutor retaliates, jaw locked. "i have to first measure what exactly your relationship is with the defendant for us to think twice about your statement. who knows..." the prosecutor makes a grand gesture of turning her head in your direction, affixing you with a condescending stare. "she might've just hired you to say these things."

your attorney doesn't come to your aid.

"perjury isn't my thing."

the prosecutor seems to have taken offense by the tone of doyoung's voice, but he doesn't let her speak further. "the victim isn't all sunshine and rainbows, you know. she'd been a part of a sorority and one with quite a nasty reputation in the college, too. i have to say she made very poor decisions, ones i'm sure her family didn't even know about. you see, they take their oaths and pledges very seriously. the victim wanted out. they didn't like that."

"and you have evidence to support this claim?"

without a moment to waste, he digs around the front pocket of his jeans before proudly presenting a black usb between his slender fingers. "knock yourself out."

the professor calls your name, snapping you out of your reverie. this isn't the first time your mind had transported you back to that particular day in the courtroom, where doyoung had swooped in and saved you from a lifetime in prison. the whole ordeal had been so scary, so frightening that you remember everything vividly as if it had only happened yesterday.

the classroom is empty. even your social psych professor has long packed up his stuff and is already standing by the classroom door. damn. were you that out of it?

"i'm so sorry." you mutter under your breath monotonously as you walk past him and out the door without another word. this is bad, very bad. no one would help, much less lend their notes to someone charged with murder — especially of their very own best friend. whether you were innocent or not doesn't matter to the student body. you've been ostracized, gossips of your problematic family spreading like wildfire, and the ridiculous part is only a fourth of the gossips are true.

the damage is done.

at this point, you realize with a heavy heart that you have to face doyoung again sooner or later. you haven't talked to him at all since the start of the new school year, ignoring his lighthearted greetings in the hallways, rejecting his calls, ghosting his texts. you are afraid people would judge him harshly for hanging around you. frankly, you were embarrassed to ask any more favors from him with how much he's done for you already and the fact that he had seen you in such a state of vulnerability.

but you also didn't want to fail your subjects and lose the one thing holding your life together — your scholarship.

that is why you found yourself standing before him, in his favorite spot in the library tucked behind shelves upon shelves of books, next to the windows overlooking the empty football field. he's wearing black-rimmed glasses and is clad in the usual navy blue sweater as his head turns to and fro between a textbook and his notebook. the air had been so silent, you hear the aggressive scratches his pencil makes against the paper.

you feel a little hurt when he makes no move to acknowledge your presence, but you think back to what you have been doing and figured he has a right to act this way.

"hey, doyoung." your voice is meek, hesitant.

"if you're not here to explain nor give me an acceptable reason why you've been ignoring me for the last few months, then please get out of my sight. i'm busy, as you can tell." he is brutally honest, knocking down the remaining hope you have left of ever reconciling with him.

something within you snaps, the steady streams of tears running down your cheeks as you pinned your stare on doyoung's open pencil case lying on the table. you have nobody left. your family — father, specifically speaking — has disowned you for taking a course your heart wanted, and the one friend you have lies motionless in a white coffin buried six feet under the ground. you didn't want to lose doyoung, too, no matter what role he plays in your life.

"i'm sorry," your voice cracks. "life's been… fucking shitty, and i'm sure you of all people know what i've been through. i've thanked you before for — for what you did, and i'm thanking you again right now but — i'm sorry, i'm really —"

your voice cracks when you feel him pulling you into an embrace. you feel the tension in your body breaking loose as you crumble in his arms. all those months grieving and wallowing in self-pity took such a heavy toll that you can't help but tightly clutch the sides of his hoodie, scared he'll slip through your fingers.

one of his hands comes up to push your face against the crook of his neck, muffling your cries in the silent library. doyoung felt like a jerk for snapping at you the way he did. how inconsiderate can he be? however, he felt elated because you sought him out yourself and wanted his help of all people.

his eyebrow raises in amusement.

well, not that you have a choice, anyway.

it took you a few good minutes to calm down, cringing when you see the wet patch on doyoung's sweater because of your tears.

"why don't you tell me everything, hmm? i'll help you as much as i can."

you sheepishly look down, fiddling with your fingers as you sit across him, the open textbook and notebook before him long forgotten. "well, i've been so out of it lately? my mind's just a whole bloody mess and i can't focus on any of my subjects at all and if i can't, then i'll lose the scholarship and it's the only thing i have in my life right now —"

"hey," doyoung cuts you off, placing a warm hand against your forearm to calm you down. "you won't lose that scholarship. trust me, okay? why don't we arrange tutoring sessions and i'll even lend you some of my notes from last year. what do you think?"

"okay... thank you, doyoung."

"for the record, you have me in your life, too. i'll always be here for you."

in the first session, you woke up from your deep slumber with only 15 minutes to spare from the scheduled time, but thankfully, your tutor only lives one floor down with the rest of the 3rd-years. bringing nothing with you but a pen and a pad of paper, your textbooks were destroyed as some students from your batch thought it'd be fun to throw them into the lake to "honor" your friend.

you offer a small smile when taeyong opens the door, sporting an oversized shirt and track pants, eyes wide in shock when he sees you. "hi? can i help you?"

"hello! i'm here for doyoung. he's tutoring —"

"he doesn't live here anymore. his mom bought him a place outside the campus."

what?

"i'm sorry for disturbing you, then. do you by any chance know where he lives?"

that's weird. doyoung never mentioned he's already moved out. you feel a wee bit irritated that he forgot to tell you; it would've saved you the embarrassment of interacting with the varsity player. you weren't stupid, you can see the hints of repulsion in taeyong's eyes the moment he opened that door and saw you standing before him, no doubt thinking about: oh, look, it's the crazy murderer with a fucked up family standing in front of me.

he had shut the door in your face. you stood awkwardly for a good minute in the hallway until the door reopens, taeyong handing you a small piece of paper with doyoung's new address scribbled hurriedly in black ink. he doesn't give you a chance to thank him for he's already closed the door again without another word.

you opted walking to his place instead of catching a ride because the money you have on you is enough to buy yourself dinner. to say the least, the apartment building is mediocre, not too grand, nor is it too rundown. double-checking the floor level written on the paper before pushing the elevator's button, you then realize doyoung lives on the very top floor of the building.

the hallways are painted a boring brown. some acrylic number signs plastered on the doors are broken, hanging vertically with one screw left. it says on the paper he resides in room 720. taking the right hallway, you mentally count as you eye the mahogany doors. 718… 719… there it is!

when you raise a fist to start knocking on his door, there is a tinge of hesitation surging through you. perhaps being alone with a boy in his apartment is not the best setting for a girl like you should end up in, but this is doyoung we're talking about. if he had ill intentions for you, it would've manifested a long time ago. you shake your head, feeling bad for thinking of him that way as you slowly knock on his front door. not long after, it swings open, revealing the 3rd-year in a white shirt and boxers as he lazily dries his hair off with a small towel.

"you're late," is the first thing he says to you before spinning on his heel to disappear further into his humble abode.

"you didn't exactly inform me you've moved out of the dorms. so, whose fault is it?" you retaliate, inviting yourself in and closing the front door shut.

"whatever. let's get started!" he plops himself on the floor, coffee table filled with loose papers as he struggles to find a specific one amongst the mess. "i've already scanned, exported to pdf, and emailed you my notes. it should be in your inbox by now. anyway, answer this quiz i made so i know what i'll be working on."

"you didn't really have to send your notes, doyoung. i could've just read everything from the textbook," you sit down across from him because otherwise, you'll be too distracted to remember information.

a thought crosses his mind. with what textbook?

"i just think it's missing some essence. that's why i love reading over other psych books in the library for fun. be grateful, those notes are like my babies and i don't simply give them to anyone," he looks at you pointedly. "they've all been summarized and explained in layman's terms so you wouldn't have to spend grueling hours of reading and trying to make sense of the big words as i did — i know that's not the definition of 'fun' normally, but it is for me, and that's why i do it."

"okay, doyoung. you sound so defensive when there's nothing to be defensive about," you tease, feeling pleased with the hint of red on his cheeks as he averts his gaze from yours, muttering incoherent words under his breath.

you spent the following tuesdays, thursdays, and sundays like that; hours upon hours with no one but your tutor, laptops with tangled chargers, a printed copy of his babies, and a mountain pile of loose papers filled with the specialized quizzes doyoung makes to measure your progress. the location varies from a cafe or his flat. but in what you've gathered from the time you spent with him, doyoung's a homebody. cafe tutor sessions are rare, and he always complained about how "noisy" the atmosphere was — "i can't stand it."

but the conversation hadn't always been about academics.

sure, for the first few sessions, doyoung kept an image of professionalism and had heavily insisted on it — "it's for your learning experience!" — despite your lighthearted teasing. but as time passed and he eventually grew more comfortable in your presence, you find the strict 15-minute break he had initially imposed between 45 minutes of studying turned into hours of talking about whatever; how he likes his eggs in the morning, your favorite coffee brew, his favorite show, your strongest pet peeve.

and you wholly welcomed the change, not minding that it's practically dark out whenever you go back to your miserable dorm. you feel butterflies in your stomach whenever doyoung offers to walk you home but never had you taken his offer, still cautious of other people seeing you both together despite his constant reassurances. you've already thoroughly ruined your image. you didn't want to ruin his, too.

kdy the cute tutor, 2:14 pm —last day of midterms! & its all majors today —good luck —remember what i taught u —lets get ice cream after u cant say no

you shake your head bemusedly. his texting style is the most doyoung thing he does and it's as if you can hear him say these things to you in real life. too caught up in your own world, you fail to detect another student sitting next to you and had nearly fallen off your chair in shock when they spoke.

"why are your notes like that?"

you fight the urge to glare at the person, especially when you turn your head and see lee jeno looking at you in genuine curiosity. he's the only batchmate that treats you a wee bit nicer among the rest. although he isn't technically your friend, at least he doesn't look at you like you're a piece of bubblegum stuck under his shoe like all the others.

"what do you mean?"

"they're… the definitions are all jumbled up. where did you even get that?"

what? jumbled up? doyoung himself said these notes are a combination of most of the psychology books he had read last year concerning his subjects. how would it be jumbled up? then again, lee jeno was not tutored by the prodigy himself. maybe things are bound to seem "jumbled up" when information is too great to understand for a feeble mind.

just as you were about to claim these notes aren't yours, the professor has already waltzed into the classroom with a thick wad of papers — the exams. after one last concerned glance directed your way, jeno averts his gaze with a confused tilt of the head.

hours later, you walk out of the classroom with the biggest smile on your face. aced it, you thought. your hands feel numb with how much you wrote on the essay portion but it's worth it if it meant you get the full 25 points, which you no doubt will as it was a topic you surely tackled with doyoung. speaking of... he sure is a man of his word.

"what are you doing here?" you hiss, head ducked with hair framing your face as to not draw attention from the rest of the students filing out of the testing hall.

"i texted you that we're getting ice cream. remember?"

"i did. but i didn't remember agreeing."

he shoots you a comforting smile, planting his hands firmly on your shoulder. “i told you, y/n. i don't care if they all see us together, so what? we all know you didn't commit that crime and it wasn't your fault you were born into the family you had. i don't care about the trivial things, baby, so don't shy away from me, okay?"

how the fuck can you say 'no' when he's looking at you the way he is as he brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear? doyoung's just so bewitching that he has you wrapped around his slender fingers. he seems pleased when you stumbled over your words as you come up with a reply, caught off guard by his bold gestures.

"i just — you, uhh — fine..." you gave in, rolling your eyes out of pretense.

he just had to call you 'baby' and erupt the butterflies in your stomach.

it had been doing that for the last few months now and it had only truly manifested today when he took you out for ice cream to celebrate the end of hell week. and since you didn't want to go back to your dorm yet, you asked if you guys can watch some movies in his house but it had simply become background noise to your heart-to-heart talks. and what better accompaniment than the classic, chicken and beer?

you listen to him drone on and on about the little realizations he had on some of his past lectures even when you barely understood anything he's saying. doyoung's so lucky to be extremely good at something he's so passionate about, talks about the human mind and the complexity of a person's behavior will never fail to make his eyes light up in interest.

he calls out your name.

your eyes snap open.

"why don't we get you home? it's past 10 and it's alright, stupid, you don't need to pretend to be interested in my psychological findings." he chuckled light-heartedly, stealing the can of the now room-temperature beer from your hands before you can protest.

"i wasn't dozing off, i swear."

"i caught you in the act. stop lying."

like all the other times he has you as his guest, doyoung once again offers to walk you home and you decline for the thousandth time. it really isn't that much of a long walk anyway. you don't see the need for him to go out of his way to secure your safety. plus, you were the one who insisted on hanging out in his house anyway. you weren't that thick-skinned to let him take you home, too.

"you're drunk!" he scolds.

“no, i’m not. i can perfectly handle myself."

"but —"

"bye!"

you feel a little guilty for shutting the door in his face. still, a minute longer of his persistence and you would've taken his offer. unfortunately for doyoung, you are one stubborn girl. only if you don't make brisk movements with your head, then you won't see doubles. you'll be fine, it's just a quick walk and it's not as if you're stupid enough to pass by deserted alleys.

but you had underestimated the divine prowess of your fucked up fate.

everything happened in a matter of three seconds; one, the blinding headlights illuminate your path from behind; two, you hear the loud honk, and as you turn around — three, the vehicle sends you rolling against the asphalt.

you should have taken the alleyways.

for his second act;

he alters your reality.

when you open your eyes, you thought you were dead and your spirit is wandering elsewhere — because you don't believe in trivial things like heaven and god — until an agitated doyoung comes into view. for a split second, you thought, is he dead, too?

"i'm not dead, you idiot." too dazed, you hardly register his anger. "i can perfectly handle myself, she said. i'm not drunk, she said. this wouldn't have happened if you had simply let me walk you home! you're damn fucking lucky you're alive and breathing right now!"

a person clears their throat.

"i don't think it wise to… nag at the patient the moment she wakes. don't you agree, sir?"

pink splotches on doyoung's cheek as he looks down, embarrassed at getting scolded as he stands closer to your bed. "i'm sorry, doc."

you didn't know when your vision cleared or when you started hearing normally again, but it was enough to find out what exactly had transpired on the very night of your tragic accident. a hit and run. fifty-fifty chance of surviving. doyoung getting a call from the hospital in the middle of the night —"they were trying to contact your dad, but he wasn't answering. i was the last person in your call history."

six months in a coma. but today, you wake… only to find out your world has crashed and burned.

"what do you mean i lost my scholarship?"

"baby, listen to me —"

"why did they take it away? is it because of my accident? i'm behind by one term only and i swear i can catch up. they need to let me back in the program. there must've been some mistake —"

"your gpa didn't reach the cut-off grade."

that can't be possible.

"but you tutored me!" you claim with conviction, pointing an accusatory finger at him until you groan, bowing in pain as you clutch your head.

doyoung springs into action. the chair's legs screech against the tiles as he jumps to your aid, ushering you gently back against the hospital bed despite your refusal. "you're not well. lay back down, please."

you don't hear a single word he says, not when you had lost something so crucial. "i put in the effort and learned everything you taught me... i aced those fucking mid-terms! i know i did!" you were on the brink of tearing up as doyoung settled himself in front of you.

"i… i actually saw your papers," his lips set in a thin, hard-line. "everything was all wrong, sweetheart. what happened to you? i tried reasoning with the professors, mentioned your state — you know, with your best friend dying — but they didn't relent. i'm sorry y/n. i'm so —"

gone. everything is gone. the money. the dorm. what if they ask you to pay the fees from last year? what if they ask you to pay the tuition fee for this year? you have no money, no family, no relatives. no one to help. who's even going to pay for the hospital fees?

you weren't able to process anything after that. not with the sudden news of your now revoked scholarship. doyoung pulls you in a tight hug. "i was a bad tutor," he says, snapping you out of it. "maybe i shouldn't have pushed you that hard to learn them. why were your answers even mixed up y/n? i thought you knew those topics already…"

he pulls away, observing your confused state as your eyes dart everywhere in the room. "what — how are they mixed up? i know i got them right. there has to be some mistake. you taught me those topics, remember?"

"i did... "he averts his gaze. "but i don't remember teaching them to you mixed up, darling. i think you did that all on your own."

"but… why would i mix up my answers? that's —"

"see, what i mean?" he cuts you off, raising a hand to give your cheek the most delicate caress. "you're not well, baby. you need to be treated, especially with how much you hit your head during the accident. don't worry, i'm here. we'll try asking if you can stay in the dorms at least until you find another place —"

"am i a charity case to you?"

oh, the surprise on the junior's face when you push him away as you pin him with a hard stare. you just don't get it. why is kim doyoung so adamant about helping you? in becoming your hero, even when you never asked him to be? if you let him help you this time around, that'll be the 3rd time he came to save your ass. it's not as if you're ungrateful. simply, you've had enough of his help. you don't know how a person like you, who literally has nothing, can return the favor to someone like doyoung.

"what are you saying —"

"i'm saying…" you fix him a hard stare. "you helping me out doesn't even benefit you in the slightest. so why do you do it?"

he pauses, staring at you with hesitance in his eyes as this seems to be the very first time you've truly seen him speechless. when doyoung opens his mouth, he mumbles, and you hardly make sense of what he said.

"do you really want to know why?"

you urge him on with an arched eyebrow, his softened tone creeping into your heart.

"you're someone special to me y/n. i don't know how or when i admitted it to myself, but you are, and it hurts me to see how shitty your luck is," he cracks a small grin, slowly settling back onto the hospital bed as he grabs your hand. "it's okay to seek help from others. it isn't a sign of vulnerability or weakness. i help you because i want to, and i'm more than willing to take care of you. will you let me?"

you're not blind. you've noticed the way he had slowly started coming closer as he continued to speak, hands held securely in his as he looked straight at your eyes then down at your lips. and so, you act in a way you know that will surely answer his question — with a kiss.

the man before you immediately reciprocates, overpowering your own eagerness as he curls the tips of his fingers into the roots of your hair. he pulls you close, cradling you against his chest. you can taste his desperation in the way his tongue dances against yours, the kiss transporting you into an alternate reality where your world revolves around doyoung and doyoung alone.

when he pulls away bleary-eyed, both of you ignore the thin strand of saliva connecting your lips. "how about you come live with me for the time being, my love?"

still high off his kiss and natural scent, you hardly mull over the question he asks you. "okay."

days later, after you've been discharged (he wanted to chip in for your hospital bills but you had given him a firm no), doyoung had been the one to show up at the dorm to collect all your things after leaving you in his apartment. the cutie had refused to simply drop you off and had deliberately accompanied you up the elevator, through the halls, and finally into his apartment.

"i'll be out for just a minute, sugarcube."

"oh, can you get take out?"

doyoung had smiled, playfully booping the tip of your nose. "no, because i'll be cooking for us tonight as a little celebration for you getting discharged. you'll love it; i'm making your favorite!"

it was funny how the night had been nothing but utter bliss. the foreign feeling of being taken care of sprouting in your chest as you watch him cooking from behind the counter. it felt… nice. but funny enough, as if doing a 360, you both had immediately gotten into an argument the next day.

"i don't see the need for skipping another day if i feel perfectly fine! i'll figure something out once we get there, doyoung, so can we just —"

"you' re not fine, babylove — hell, you got discharged yesterday! i'm not just about to let you back into the arena with those students. they've only grown more immature since your coma, love. i seriously don't want you near them."

"fine! then i won't talk to them. simple." you throw your hands up. "there. problem solved. now, can we please just go to uni? i need to talk to the dean and the head of student affairs, too —"

"i'm going to uni, not you."

maybe it had been the way he firmly stated his claim, the way his eyes pierced through your soul as if daring you to argue further with him that made you snap.

"i'm not a prisoner in this apartment, doyoung! don't treat me like i have the plague! i'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself — jesus christ, i've been doing it nearly half my fucking life!"

too caught up in your anger, you've failed to notice the tears pouring down his face as he sets his gaze on the floor.

"you're right," his voice cracks. "i shouldn't be pushy like that. i'm sorry. you just mean so much to me and i'm so scared of losing you again. with your coma — i just — it's like i was fighting a losing battle each day that passed when i saw you in that hospital bed. i've never felt so scared in my whole life and i hated myself for not being able to protect you that night."

his tears run like waterfalls, and when you step forward with your arms wide open, doyoung sobs harder as he pulls you against him. you hardly comprehend what he says as he spoke, shaking against your frail body as you felt his tears stain your blouse. "i'm sorry, i never should've dictated what you felt — i'm so sorry."

"no, it's okay. i was feeling a little lightheaded, anyway. i'll stay here and i can come back to school next semester, right? doyoung? just… please stop crying."

he lifts his head, staring at you with bloodshot eyes before giving your forehead a kiss. you let a relieved sigh escape your lips, melting into his warmth as you prop your chin on his shoulder. if you had only been more attentive, you would've seen the reflection of his wicked grin on the tabletops. too easy.

living with him became a blur after that incident. everything fell into a routine for the next four days as you spent the day watching netflix, eating, reading, sleeping. nothing felt fun anymore. but your peaceful life had ceased during the fifth night — the whispers, they woke you up. you can hear them from behind your door at night, and when you rouse awake, you see doyoung walking around the hallway from the tiny gap at the bottom of the door. you had sighed, falling back into your plush bed as you pray to god, he keeps it down.

but what he told you the next day rendered you speechless. "me, walking around the hallways? whispers?" he says, confused. "i was already asleep, love. knocked out cold the moment my body fell on the bed."

"but…"

he doesn't spare you a glance as he takes his sweet time skimming through his notes on the dining table, coffee in one hand. "maybe it's just the meds kicking in."

"no, surely it was real! i literally woke up in the middle of the night," you repeat. "it's okay if it was you, doyoung. i'm not mad."

he sets his coffee mug down a little too loud.

"well, you can't be mad at me, sugar, because like i said — it wasn't me," it doesn't take a genius to notice he's awfully cranky today. you observe him, dark half-moons under his eyes as he relentlessly reads his notes with instant coffee in one hand.

"you're just imagining things, okay? stop acting crazy."

for some reason, the way he had uttered certain words like 'imagining' and 'crazy' made you curl into your seat in embarrassment. he was right that your doctor did prescribe a generous amount of pills per day, but his tone made it feel off, made you feel like there was something wrong with you even when there wasn't…

right?

you didn't say a word after that and had hesitantly pecked him on the cheek before he left for school. with the amount of time you're with him, two things stood out to you — his keen sense of observation and his knack for reading people. you highly doubt he didn't notice a shift in your behavior but a part of you thinks it's just the stress talking. he is about to take his finals and had recently started on his research paper.

every psych student is required to present a paper in accordance with the department's annual theme. it could be anything from proposing a theory (if you dare) to constructing a well-developed psychology model. if you don't turn one in, you don't graduate — the paper's that important, and you've been bugging him for so long about sneaking a peek on what his study is about. but he always refused.

the next week came rolling around, and both of you had been spending every day together due to the semestral break. the arguments have significantly lessened, but your episodes — eventually, you started calling it that way because that's how doyoung labels it — have only gotten worse. you end up moving out of the guest room and into his. privacy be damned. the whispers stopped momentarily but what came next became your imminent downfall.

the first time you heard it, you thought you were dreaming. but the doorknob kept rattling aggressively even as you sat up. just as you climb off the bed, your half-asleep boyfriend asks where you're going.

"bathroom," you lied.

you were always the one to snort when it comes to the supernatural, claiming it's all bullshit. yet, as whatever outside continues to fight its way inside the room, the rattling progressing into loud bangs against the door, you're not so sure of your beliefs anymore. you're not crazy. nothing is wrong with you, and you're perfectly fine. this apartment is cursed, and you are going to prove that to doyoung.

grabbing your phone from the bedside table, you turn the flash on, pointing the camera at the door as you take a footage of the mad entity that has been playing games with you. a squeal escapes your lips when a particular bang! reverberates louder in the room than all the others. the phone slips your hand, falling onto the floorboards. you don't bother to retrieve it as you scramble to get yourself back under the blanket and into doyoung's comfortable warmth.

you snuggle yourself plush against his chest, shaking as you wrap your arms around his waist, inhaling his natural scent to anchor you back.

bang! bang! bang!

you didn't get a wink of sleep last night.

"can't the video wait? there's a new episode of start-up, and i want to watch it already!" he whines, shoving his face further on the throw pillow situated on your lap.

you giggle, shaking your head as you scroll through your gallery to find the video. i'm not imagining things. i'm not hallucinating. i'm not crazy. "here! watch... i'm telling you this apartment is haunted, and the ghost probably likes you, which is why it doesn't bother you —"

your lighthearted rambling cuts off when you notice no sound emitting from your phone. weird. you could've sworn you started recording right when the loud banging has already started. your heart drops upon the wary stare doyoung shoots you before he continues to watch the video.

no, no, no, no — please!

you quickly scoot over to his side, watching as the video unfolds before your very eyes. the shot was messy as the phone was handheld, not to mention you were panicking at the time. but the video is silent. not a single noise of a rattling doorknob or banging on the door can be heard through your phone's speakers.

"maybe — maybe you didn't turn the volume up?"

you hardly contain the mortification in your face when you realize the volume's at 100 already. and as if on cue, your squeal is heard in the video and the noise of the phone hitting the floor.

doyoung's silence shakes your whole being. as you kneel before him teary-eyed, your voice breaks. "i swear, i'm not crazy."

but at this point, you don't believe yourself anymore.

for his third and final act;

he triumphs.

his deprivation began in minuscule ripples.

it didn't take much effort on doyoung's end to convince you to stop studying for a year or two, at least, only until your hallucinations aren't as severe anymore. everyday felt like hell on earth as the fine line between what's real and what isn't has blurred over one too many times. in sheer paranoia of accidentally hurting him in his sleep, you moved out of his bedroom and had started sleeping in the guest room again — much to doyoung's frustration.

but he's a smart man, one that recognizes an opportunity amidst the hurdles thrown on his path.

"why does my door need a lock outside again?"

he approaches you, who’s sitting cross-legged on the bed, after screwing in the last of the screws that came with the new doorknob. doyoung is familiar with the look written on your face, has observed and studied you enough to navigate his way inside your pretty little head with ease.

he can't have you doubting him, can he?

"you know i'm all about protecting you, right?" he starts. you nodded. "i've been doing it for a year now, and i will continue to do so until you need me to. the world is a bad place, sweetheart, remember? your own best friend's mother tried framing you. your dad disowned you. you've been ostracized in the whole college... do you think i'm just like the rest of them, baby?"

doyoung has already mastered the perfect expression of a kicked-puppy, one that easily pulls at your heartstrings and has you cooing at him.

"no!" you say with conviction, reaching forward to thread your fingers through his. "i know you're different, not like any of them at all. i know you're only doing what's… best for me."

he ignores the underlying hesitance in your tone. that will be corrected, sooner or later.

doyoung tightens his hold as he kisses the back of your hand. such an innocent gesture — but such ill intentions.

"the outside lock helps me in protecting you, love. you don't need to worry about anything. just focus on getting better, alright? i'll keep the bad guys away from you."

it was during his first semester of senior year, a few months back, doyoung and a good few students of his batch had been granted the opportunity to intern for a mental hospital located near the edge of the city. he was supposed to decline the offer but you convinced him to take the spot. it had only been a two-week “job” yet it was enough for doyoung to conclude — he’d rather kill you than subject you to the horrors of what the patients have to go through in the loony bin.

eventually, the small ripples shift into unforgiving waves, dragging you into the depths as everything comes crashing down before your very own eyes.

it should have been like any other day inside the apartment. doyoung's already gone in the morning to attend classes. though not before setting a tray of your brunch on the nightstand, making sure to lock your door on his way out. he knew your nightmares and anxiety kept you up at night, resulting in longer hours of sleep during the day.

turns out, you moving out of his bedroom had been a blessing in disguise. coming home to an empty apartment has become his biggest fear yet, and you unconsciously found a solution for him. one that doesn’t have him fidgeting on his seat as he counts down the minutes ‘til he’s back by your side.

doyoung smiles unconsciously as he listens to his professor drone on and on in front of him — his mind at peace, knowing you're safe and sound in your little prison.

until he received a text that made his blood run cold.

ty, 11:34 am —im done.

meanwhile, you rouse awake once more to thunderous poundings against your bedroom door. oh no, you thought. it's happening again. this time, there'll be no doyoung barging into your room, half-asleep and hair messy, as he tries to calm you down. you throw the blankets over you as you sob, hugging your legs against your chest as you try to 'wake yourself up' from the hallucination.

the person outside calls for your name, the desperation in their tone alighting a new-found fear in your heart. you don't know what's real anymore. is this truly happening, or is it another hallucination your fucked up mind has conjured up?

"please! it's taeyong! y/n, can you hear me?"

taeyong?

slowly, your head peaks above the blanket, warily staring at the door. doyoung has warned you about these kinds of things, has practically ingrained in your mind that whoever comes looking for you will take you away from him. not to mention, doyoung slipped one time and said he isn’t friends with taeyong anymore.

the banging on the door progresses.

“are you in there? answer me! i can’t find the key!”

you don’t say anything, merely pushing the covers off your body as you keep your eyes fixed on the beating door. it looks like it’s about to pop out its hinges as taeyong relentlessly fights his way inside your room. what are you going to do? do you open the door? oh. right. you can’t do that on your own accord. the key is with doyoung and he isn’t in the apartment at the moment.

all your thoughts come to a halt when the boy outside sends the door flying open, finally breaking the lock with one powerful kick. you flinch back, his actions pushing you on your feet, wanting to place a maximum amount of distance from the intruder.

taeyong looks frantic, disheveled as he immediately notices your alarmed state. he approaches you cautiously, hands up to show his empty palms. “hey, hey… it’s just me, y/n. i’m not going to hurt you. i’m not the enemy here.”

“doyoung doesn’t know you’re here, does he?”

the look of surprise on his face is an answer in itself. for someone doyoung had proudly claimed to have “broken” you’re still quite quick to catch up on things, taeyong observed. and he doesn’t know what to feel about it — pity? guilt?

“that’s not important!” he claims, boldly surging forward to grasp your shoulders with a firm grip. taeyong felt his heart dropping when you flinch under his grasp.

“listen to me. we need to get you out of here. doyoung isn’t — he isn’t everything you thought he is!” he can’t help but raise his voice, panic surging through him because there’s not much time left and you aren’t exactly cooperating. you’ve been trying to shrug off his hold the whole time.

“do you think he actually loves you?”

“he does! stop saying bullshit!”

“doyoung never loved anyone and you want to know why? because he’s too in love with his research to care for anything else!” taeyong felt bad to have been so direct, especially when he sees the tears now falling freely down your cheeks. “listen to me, y/n! i’m not the enemy! if there’s anyone you should be pushing away, it’s doyoung! he turned you into his lab rat! you are nothing but a variable in his study! don’t you get it?”

taeyong grabs a firm but gentle hold of your head, trying to make you look at him straight in the eye for the gravity of what he’s about to say to you.

“doyoung had his eye on you since sophomore year. i told him this was a bad idea and that he should change the topic of the research and he was. fucking hell, he was about to scrap the whole thing until your bestfriend died and did you know what that psycho told me? that it was a sign for him to continue the research! and i’ve been pestering him so much that he moved out because he claimed i was going to get in the way of his discovery.

tell you what, if you can tell me right here, right now, that he has mentioned anything — anything at all — about his study to you then everything i’m saying is a lie.”

you have asked doyoung for the longest time about that research but the answers have always been the same. “not yet, my love. it’s not time for it to be seen with your eyes. soon, okay?”

with a voice not louder than a whisper, you ask. “what… what’s his research about?”

you fail to see the sorry look on taeyong’s face. “in psychology, they say a person only develops psychosis mainly through genetics or drugs. although you’re technically already a worthy “lab rat” considering your mom and upbringing, he wanted to expand the external factors of what causes the disorder — grief, grades, toxic family relations…”

you hear a ringing in your ear and a sudden urge to throw up. only, you didn’t have anything to hurl because your brunch remains untouched on your bedside.

“but he hadn’t been successful. and that’s… that’s where i came along. doyoung thought the medications he’s been giving you isn’t doing what he wanted it to and he knew he needed a little push. i was… i gave him that push. remember the whispers, the banging on the door at night? it was all me. he made me do it. you know what that means, right? you’re not crazy. you don’t need to stay here cooped up like some kind of pet, believing all his lies as if it’s written in a fucking bible —”

he stops. and if he hadn’t, you wouldn’t’ve heard the familiar beeps of the front door’s automated lock going off. doyoung’s home.

in lightning speed, taeyong has you sheltered behind him, throwing his warm coat over you in the process, hoping to give the smallest comfort amidst the chaos that’s about to erupt. there’s no point in pretending or hiding — one look at that lock and his crazy friend would know something’s off.

taeyong feels you flinching behind him with every heavy footstep against the floorboards as doyoung wastes no time in getting to your room. and when he finally appears, hands braced against the door frame, you’ve never been this scared your whole life. his eyes are drawn into slits, fixated on taeyong alone. “how fucking dare you?”

“it’s over, doyoung. give it up or you wouldn’t have to suffer a longer sentence than you’ll already get.” taeyong tried with his whole being to appear intimidating.

“what’re you saying, yong? i meant, how fucking dare you barge in here and disturb my girlfriend in her sleep? that’s not very nice of you…” doyoung sports a disarming gummy smile as he approaches, hand outstretched and beckoning towards you. “c’mere, baby. i don’t think you’ve eaten lunch yet?”

“drop the fucking act, you psycho!”

“what act?” doyoung tilts his head innocently, gaze shifting from taeyong’s and yours, who keeps peeking from over his ex-friend’s shoulder. luring you out is a piece of cake unless taeyong decides to make things a wee bit more complicated, doyoung thought. “i’m just concerned for my darl —”

“we’re leaving.” taeyong cuts him off, breaking eye contact as he places a firm grip around your wrist. he pulls you towards him, farther away from your supposed lover as he tries walking past doyoung.

but the said man pushes taeyong back with a humorless smile on his face. “and who told you that you can do that?”

a pregnant silence befalls the room as the two men size each other up. they regard each other with such hostility, you can't help but unconsciously fist the back of taeyong's sweater in nervousness, prompting the man to turn his head over his shoulder for a swift second to check up on you.

but a second is all that doyoung needed to deliver the first kick towards taeyong's legs, throwing him off his balance. if it was one thing doyoung knew, is that he needed to eliminate taeyong's agility all together if he wants to win against him.

but taeyong isn't one to back down. the moment doyoung straddles him on the floor, with a fist raised to throw a punch, taeyong grunts as he rolls them around. doyoung now receiving taeyong's rain of fists as he yells. "fuck you! you manipulative asshole!"

you sat on the corner, horrified of the scene happening before you. you've never seen doyoung this way. he has always been your sweet, caring bunny, but after everything taeyong said, you aren't so sure you even know the man you've been living with.

"everything i did, i did it for her!" you flinch at the sound of bones breaking as doyoung kicked taeyong's ribs. "she had nothing to lose! i saved her!"

the door is open, you noticed. wide-open and inviting you to make a run for it. and you would have made a run for it... but taeyong. you can't leave him behind, not when he lays there bloody and grunting in pain as doyoung lets his anger take over him. so, as stupid as may be, you did it. you had to.

"you didn't save me," you say, schooling your face into indifference as doyoung whips around, forgetting about taeyong in the bat of an eye. "you caged me in here, treated me like there's something wrong with me, gaslighted me into believing everything you said! and... what did you say? 'saved me'? you made me go through hell!"

the whole time, taeyong tries his hardest to stand upright, but his broken ribs don't allow him to. the pain too great that he had no choice but to crawl instead, arms pulling his weight as he drags himself across the floorboards, desperately trying to get doyoung's attention back on him even if it meant getting beaten to death.

meanwhile, he had his eyes trained on you the whole time you spoke, sobbing as you walk backward in fear as doyoung approached you with a dark glint in his eye. he doesn't like what you're saying; that much is very clear. he wanted to yell at you, to scream of your ungratefulness despite his constant care but instead, he says.

"i thought we were making progress, baby. i guess i have to drill everything in your brain again. you're not okay, but you will be after i treat you."

you try to fight the urge to look at taeyong as he finds his strength, silently rising up from the floor to ambush doyoung while he's so busy preaching about you.

"what i said is true, baby. do you actually think this scum over here is doing this to save you? do you actually believe everything he said? i've been here since day-1, my love. literally. and have i ever let you down? no. everything i'm doing is for us. even this damned research!"

taeyong surges forward to put him in a chokehold, but everything happened so fast, and the next thing you knew —

"did you actually think i'd fall for that?"

you didn't know the sound of a knife cutting through flesh could sound that loud, but nothing could beat the strained gasp that tumbled through taeyong's lips as he shakily held the knife pierced through his heart. you would've been concerned about how doyoung got it so accurate in one go or where the knife even came from. but you were too busy screaming, collapsing against the wall as you let out a broken sob.

"no," you mutter. "no, no, no..."

you can't bear to avert your eyes from taeyong as he lies dying before you. the look of fear in his eyes would forever be ingrained in your mind, and no amount of brainwashing or gaslighting would ever make you forget.

doyoung killed him. you lost.

the knife clatters loudly on the floor as he slowly turns around as if he himself has yet to register what he did. you didn't know what to expect from doyoung's reaction but certainly not the eerie smile that starts spreading on his face.

"now... how about that lunch, baby?"

✉ : a repost no one asked but i respectfully dont give a fuck <3

#hmu if i missed a warning #yandere doyoung #yandere kpop #yandere nct #yandere nct 127 #tw swearing #tw manipulation #tw violence #tw knife

202 notes · View notes

bitchapalooza · 3 years

Text

Sail to sea

Lukas sees the Sea Spirit.

Tw death mention, past death, child death, drowning mention

Lucas scanned the horizon. The sun was setting, ending his third day on the job. Orange reflected off the waters of the quiet Norwegian town. The clouds were a beautiful cotton candy pink, soft enough to touch, good enough to eat. As the night closed in, the atmosphere changed. Everything calmed to a relaxing still. The wind blew gently. Jostling his hair. Messing it up.

The boat swayed as the crew readied themselves to port. Lucas drew in the last of the nets. Nothing in them. Same as the previous evening. A low frustrated growl rumbled from Lukas' throat. He tossed the net aside, it hitting the deck with a thud.

"Don't get your knickers in a twist, Thomassen." William, his cousin and crewmate, frowned. His larger, rougher hand clasped Lucas' shoulder firmly. Grounding the younger worker from his rising emotion.

Lucas jerked away. "How are you so calm? The haul is lighter than yesterday. And the day before." William shook his head as he gathered the empty nets.

"S'way it always is, kid." He tossed the nets back to Lucas, the young man falling back a step but otherwise catching it without further struggle.

"Wasn't this way when I was a kid." Lucas muttered. "There were netfulls everyday. More than my father could handle sometimes."

Erick pushed past his fiance's cousin, bumping shoulders with the shorter man. "Things change. Get used to it."

Lucas wouldn't accept it. His father had run this small fishing business for years. Spent his life on it to provide for his family. Then he passes it down to his brother and it goes to shit. The amount of fish fluctuates daily, he's been told. He was instructed to deal with the dead ones they haul in. Do not question the half eaten fish. To throw back the younger ones to avoid killing off the supply. Most shops relied on them for stock. Restaurants relied on those shops. Families relied on both. The whole town will collapse if nothing could be done to fix this.

But Lucas let it go for now. He stored the nets away in the proper place. And then he caught something unusual in the corner of his eye.

Glistening violet in the setting sun. He scanned the landscape but saw nothing more. He was about to turn away, thinking it was a trick of the light, when he saw it again. In as much detail as he could capture.

Out in the distance, a glimmer of purple soared through the air. Lucas swore it was a body. Small and slim. Jumping from the water like a dolphin. "What," Lucas began, not looking away from the ocean. "What was that?"

"What was what?" William asked from the other side of the boat.

"The— whatever jumped into the air just now!"

"Oooooh," Finnigan, the old self appointed crew captain, came up from below the deck stroking his salt and pepper beard. "Sounds like little Lucas has seen it." He trotted over, ruffling the younger one's head of hair. Lucas swatted him away.

"It? Hell is 'it'?" He demanded.

"It," Erick sat down on the gunwale of the boat. "Is the Sea Spirit. Kids these days say it's a mermaid."

"Others say it's a lost spirit. And that's where my money lands honestly." Finnigan finished.

Lucas turned back to the open sea. "So," He looked over the edge, brows furrowed. "It's definitely paranormal?"

The crew nodded.

"Interesting.."

Later that night, Lucas helped his uncle and aunt clean up the dinner table then snuck off, telling them he was going out for some air. He took down a path where he knew the tide would be low, leaving the rocks dry and exposed. He climbed down the now rusty latter. Maneuvered over the rocks. And sat huddled on the flat bare stone that acted as land. The water was calm and the wind chilly.

Lucas dipped his hand into the cool salty water closing his eyes as he remembered a time long past. When the latter was brand new. Built by his neighbor and son. Kids used to come down here to play with their toy boats. It was once a tradition for the graduating seniors to let go a paper boat in preparation for their free life. Some even set the boats on fire, making a bigger deal out of it than needed. Lucas came out here to play too, once upon a time. When things were simpler. Happier.

But it looks like things have changed. The rope blocking kids off from the deeper parts is gone. The dock where, on occasion, a lifeguard sat, was in shambles. Barnacles hug every nook and cranny possible of every rock in sight thanks to the change in sea level.

And to think it's only been eight years.

"Hey spirit." Lucas called out. Back in the day, their town was home only to humans. No paranormal being could be found. It's a pretty foreign deal to these folk but to Lucas it's become normal. His parents moved him to the city where creatures did reside. Hostile ones. Friendly ones. He met a Fossegrimmen in the surrounding forest he observed everyday as a teen, always trying to muster the courage to ask him to teach him how to play the fiddle. He did always have the stolen meat prepared but never did approach him. He also met trolls and an usual Danish Nisse when he visited the countryside. Lucas is still convinced, after all these years, he even saw the winter spirit when he first moved. His parents continue to deny it.

Lucas was no stranger to these creatures. In fact, being told there was a spirit here, in this boring old port town, was just the pick-me-up he needed after leaving his parents' comfort and care nearly a week ago. Back in the city, he kept journals about the creatures he found. He found them intriguing. Fun to study.

Lucas swirled his hand in the liquid a few more times before retracting it, wiping it dry on his pant leg. "If you are out here, Sea Spirit, you don't have to be shy. I'd like to meet you if that's okay."

Nothing but the sounds of the sea answered.

A few more good bouts of silence and Lucas got up, ready to leave. And then something splashed his shoes as he turned away, soaking them to the bone. He faced the water again, looking down at the edge of the rock. And there it was, the top of a head and a pair of bright violet eyes reflecting the moon poked out of the water's surface. Lucas carefully sat back down a good distance away, never breaking eye contact.

"So," Lucas began. "You're what I saw this evening, huh?" The spirit popped their head further out of the water, revealing their beautiful spots of purple that glimmered in the moonlight. Lucas also noticed it's features. Very child-like, he thought.

"What is your name?" They tilted their head. "Your name. What do they call you?" He repeated.

The spirit suddenly came ashore. With the moonlight as his only source, he could just make out how sickly green and pale their skin was. Their hair covered their eyes, touching their shoulders. Gills sat on the sides of their throat while more purple scales littered their exposed skin. They wore tattered cloth, most likely a torn sail they fashioned into some clothes. Most of all, it was a child. A young boy by the looks of it. Perhaps around four. Or six in human years.

This was unlike anything Lucas has read about.

"If you don't have a name, may I call you something?" The spirit nodded slowly, hesitantly. "Okay. Hm..." Lucas thought hard on this. He's never come across a completely nonverbal creature before. Much less one he's never seen before. This felt like a huge deal to him so the pressure was on.

And then he snapped his fingers, spooking the spirit for a second. "I got it! Emil. You can be called Emil."

Emil grinned from ear to ear at that. Lucas chuckled. "I see you like that, hm?" Emil nodded, more vigorously this time.

"Well my name is—" Without any warning, Emil came over and took Lucas' hand in his. Clasping them together tightly. The two met face to face, Emil smiling with big bright eyes as he shook their hands up and down in an incorrect hand shake. Lucas laughed a little again. "It is nice to meet you too, Emil. I'm Lucas." Emil let go and plopped down on the rock in front of Lucas.

"Can you not talk, Emil?" Emil frowned. He shook his head. "Seems you can understand well enough however. That's good."

With the young spirit closer, Lucas got a better view. His hands seemed to be webbed, feet too. Good for swimming of course. His ears were not human but fin. Small but still stuck out away from the face.

"Hey Emil," The spirit's eyes swam with curiosity. "Would you like to know why I named you Emil?" The boy nodded, leaning forward in anticipation.

Lucas gave a small smile. He took a breath and began. "I had a younger brother. He was around your age even. A small, skinny kid. He was going through this difficult picky eater phase that made mom worry for his future health on a daily basis."

"His name was Emil. A shy kid that had this fixation of collecting rocks and picking up strange bugs every chance he got. He opened up around me, mom, and dad a lot more than he did strangers.. He loved to fish with dad and I. We went every weekend to the docks to catch a few and throw them back. Dad would sometimes make us kiss the fish as it would apparently give us good luck. What a fool.." Lucas chuckled from fond memory.

Emil scooted closer, listening intently as Lucas carried on. "One day, dad thought it would be a good idea to show us how he worked. He took us out on the boat. Put life jackets on the both of us as he knew us kids would want to look out over the boat's edge. But Emil's hardly fit on account of his small body. He." Lucas took a shaky breath. "He fell overboard. And he couldn't swim. Emil had already fallen under before dad jumped in to save him himself. He died. And we never did retrieve his body either."

The spirit layed a cold hand across Lucas' warm one. Emil pointed to himself, tilting his head.

"Yeah. I named you after my brother to honor him I suppose."

Emil shook his head. He quickly retracted his hand and retreated back to the water in the blink of an eye.

Lucas stood, confused.

Now what was that about?

#tw death mention #tw child death #tw drowning mention #tw character death #sorry if this sucks i just wanted to make something to feel productive #hetalia #hetalia fanfiction #hetalia norway #hetalia iceland #hetalia fantasy au #hetalia au #btw denmark is in fact the nessie mention and sweden is the winter spirit #*nisse #i find it hard to see den AS nisse as but i find it easy to think of how to write nisse!denmark

17 notes · View notes

saqrqa3d · 3 years

Text

The time for tarbiya of children is in early childhood. This is a window that closes and is not indefinitely open.

At a certain point in time, I had a relative stay with me for a while. She was the last child in a somewhat large family (5 children). She was the "baby" of the family and her mother adored her and waited on her hand and foot. Her parents were a bit older when they had her, and had greatly relaxed their parenting by the time she came along. They felt too old and tired to enforce the old rules they'd had for the older kids, too drained to confront this fifth child when she misbehaved, and had too little energy for consequences or punishment for misdeeds.

This daughter grew up coddled in such a home, doing mostly what she liked. No chores. No real responsibilities. Getting tired of her parents' home at the age of 21, she came to stay with me for a while.

She was a sweet, good-natured young woman, with a ready sense of humor and a kind heart. But she did not know certain basic life skills and had some deeply-entrenched bad habits that had never been corrected. She was a picky eater and expected to eat out or order food from restaurants daily or nearly daily. She disliked eating leftovers. She wasted things around the house, throwing things that were usable into the trash bin without thought. She had very little financial responsibility. She lacked basic organizational skills, not knowing how to plan ahead to get taks done or how to sort her responsibilities by importance. In general, she was unaccustomed to responsibility, consistency, accountability. Her priorities were misaligned, often mistaking luxuries for necessities and vice versa.

She recieved material things from her parents to compensate for her parents' own poverty when *they* were children. But the irony is--this family was still quite financially limited. Despite being poor, their daughter got the latest iPhone with a brand-name phone case regularly. This type of material over-compensation comes from a place of emotionality from the parents, a need to somehow right the wrongs of their *own* past by making sure their daughter had things they never had themselves as children. So from a very young age, this girl had a smartphone, before she had the maturity or the prefrontal cortex development to use it well. Of course she ended up talking online with strangers and getting into a "friendship" with a young American non-Muslim man 8 years her senior when she was 14. When her mother found out eventually, she tried to sternly order her daughter to desist from chatting online with this random man. But the girl persisted. The mother told me later about this issue, "Yeah, of course it bothered me to see her talking to him whenever I'd notice it. But I...just kind of looked the other way after a while. I don't have the energy. I couldn't tell her what you are telling her so bluntly and so directly. You're right, of course. Thank you."

She had little knowledge of Quran, though some of her older siblings knew much of it. She asked me one day to help her memorize some of the surahs of Juz `Amma, along with my own children. I agreed of course, reassuring her that it was never too late to start learning even small surahs and that with just a bit of time and practice, she'll have the full juz memorized inshaAllah.

One day, she and I were talking on the phone with her mom, just having a normal chit chat. During the conversation, her mother told me:

"ربيها يام خالد. أنا ماعرفتش أربيها."

"Give her tarbiya (ie. Raise her), ya Umm Khalid. I wasn't able to raise her."

I reassured this tired old mother that everything was fine inshaAllah and that her daughter was a fine young woman with a good heart. Everything was going to be fine, I kept repeating. Don't worry.

But the statement of this mother, nearing the age of 60, hit me. It made me think about the nature of childrearing. The parameters of parenting. Is there timing involved? Is there a window that closes? When does it start and when does it end? Can a child who has already grown into an adult still be parented and raised? Can old parenting mistakes and lapses and blind spots be corrected decades later by another stand-in parent?

I don't know.

But I had long known (very intimately, in the most up close and personal way) families who had failed to raise their children when the children were young and needed to be raised by parents. The parents were lax, busy, stressed, distracted, too preoccupied fighting amongst themselves and bickering with one another, and failed to pay real attention to their kids and provide them with real tarbiya. These are not absentee parents or non-Muslim parents. These aren't deadbeat parents who abuse alcohol or drugs. These aren't kids who come from a broken home or raised by a single parent because the other parent took off on them.

No. These are Muslim families with seemingly stable households, both parents living together in the home and working and living normal lives. But the substance of childrearing was missing. Tarbiya was not especially focused on. It was emotional, haphazard parenting rather than Islamic parenting based on principles and values of our deen.

The prophet Muhammad صلى الله عليه وسلم raised an entire generation of men and women, with astounding results that we still marvel at to this day. He, صلى الله عليه وسلم , was the best parent, the best teacher, the best mentor. He dealt with babies, toddlers, young children, teenagers, and young adults. He raised four blessed daughters. He raised Ali ibn Abi Talib, the son of his older, poorer uncle. He raised Zayd ibn Haritha, the young boy who had been stolen and sold into slavery but who was later freed and adopted by the Prophet صلى الله عليه وسلم (until the ahkam of adoption were later revealed).

He raised many children, صلى الله عليه وسلم . He corrected mistakes firmly but with wisdom, never letting problems stand. He gave measured praise when necessary and meted out consequences when necessary. He صلى الله عليه وسلم taught values and principles, first enacting them himself, which made it easier for thise around him to mirror them. He صلى الله عليه وسلم raised mature, responsible, upright men and women who would go on to fight battles (both military and otherwise) at young ages, who spread Islam in the most beautiful way, who would teach the world, centuries later, how to live as a good human being based on Islam. This is the kind of tarbiya he gave, صلى الله عليه وسلم.

And this is the kind of tarbiya we want to emulate in raising our own children today. Yes we live in a different era, a different time and place, and everything is much worse now as we near the end times...but we must cling to the Prophet's approach, صلى الله عليه وسلم. He is still our role model, despite everything we perceive as an obstacle. We want to follow in his blessed footsteps in raising the kind and caliber of men and women who will raise the flag of Islam inshaAllah. We want to provide true Islamic tarbiya, with love, intelligence, and wisdom.

And tarbiya starts at home. From a young age. Muslim parents, your job is extremely important.

3 notes · View notes

surveys-at-your-service · 3 years

Text

Survey #446

“so you can throw me to the wolves / tomorrow i will come back, leader of the whole pack”

Favourite cheese? American. Superman or Batman? I know literally nothing of Superman, but I like Batman. Who are your best friends? The only person I consider a best friend is Sara. Name the 3 most important people in your life: My mom, Sara, and... I suppose myself since I cherish my mental health VERY deeply. Are you currently learning from anyone how to play any instruments? No. Do you know anyone who is overly flirty with people? Girl or a boy? In my personal opinion, yes. I do believe it's possible to be "overly" flirty, considering you can really lead people on. It's a she. Do you believe vampires are real? Not the stereotypical Twilight kind. No. Have you ever been to a porn website? Were you addicted to it afterword? No. I'm really not into that. What is the most disgusting thing you think the opposite sex can do? I think the most disgusting thing anyone can do is commit rape. Would you rather be able to teleport or freeze time? Which one seems best? I feel teleportation is obviously more convenient and useful in dangerous situations. Have you seen the movie Twister? Did the tornadoes look real to you? LKJFL;AKSDJFKLASJDLFKA;WE NOOOOOOOOOO. I am WAY too terrified of tornadoes to watch that. Have you actually been through a devastating natural disaster before? Hurricane Floyd was pretty devastating. I was too young to really remember it, though. Did your mom ever fix your eggs and bacon into a smiley face as a kid? She probably did. What fast food place, in your opinion, has the best french fries? BOJANGLE'S, AHHHHHHHHHHHH. Do you believe one day aliens might take over the planet Earth? I mean, it's possible, but I don't know. Do you remember when they used to actually throw candy out at parades? I didn't know they stopped. Does it bother you when people burp around you or do you do it too? I couldn't possibly care less, it's a natural bodily function. Just because of societal standards though, I don't burp in public, though, but only around family and close friends. What is one kind of music you’d do anything to not listen to in the car? Anything like rap that has a STUPIDLY loud bass that just annoys everyone within a ten mile radius. When was the last time you babysat, if ever? Did anything bad happen? A year or two ago, for my nephew. No one else was free to watch him, so I had no choice. Nothing bad happened, besides nearly having a panic attack. Do you ever talk to people you met online through webcam? Or is that weird? No. Even Sara and I don't do it, because I'm too self-conscious of how I look. Even though she's seen me plenty before irl. Would you ever consider becoming a scientist? Why would you or why not? Well, I majored in biology briefly... I wanted to be a wildlife biologist. I just adore animals and thought I could do it. I just couldn't handle school. When is the next time you’ll talk to the cousin you’re closest to? I'm not especially close to any of my cousins. Are you really into vintage things? Have you ever been into that stuff? Yessss! is writing something that you enjoy doing? Definitely. Would you rather read or write? Write. Would you rather draw or take photographs? If I wind up being very proud of the product, I prefer drawing, but I take pictures far more. When was the last time you cheated at something? I have no clue. Has anyone ever copied off of your homework assignments? I think so? Do you have any pictures of celebs saved to your computer? ... *stares at my folder labelled "Mark"* What would you consider your favorite holiday? Why is this? Christmas. I love the whole vibe of it. The weather, the smells, the treats, my niece's and nephew's excitement... I adore all the lights and decorations, the gratefulness for family and your loved ones in general... I just love Christmas. If you’re a girl, do you have big hips? Too big? I'd say my hips are normal. Girls, do you think you look good in dresses or not? God no. Not anymore. Have you ever taken a pottery class before? Nope. How many times have you seen Star Wars? Be honest. Once. I didn't like it. Has your best friend ever made you cry? Yes. But in her defense, we've both made the other cry. Have you ever entered a talent competition? God no, I ain't got shit to flaunt. Are you smiling in your Facebook profile picture? Yes. If you wear eye shadow, do you put on a dark colour or a light? And if you wear mascara, what colour is it? I only ever wear black for both of those. What is your favourite Christmas movie? Jim Carrey's How the Grinch Stole Christmas. What do you get complimented on the most? My Markiplier tattoo, actually. What do you think of your best friend’s ex? One I REALLY don't like, the other I'm neutral about. Are you biracial? No. Do you have Pop-Tarts in your house right now? No. We try to not buy them, given they're just TOTALLY empty calories. They don't fill me at all. Is anyone’s birthday coming up? No. Does/did either of your parents serve in the military? No. Do you like sour candy? I LOVE sour candy. Where would you like to go on your honeymoon? Alaska, to see the Northern Lights. Do you usually wear sunglasses when you’re driving? I haven't driven in well over a year. Hell, maybe two. But no, because I'd need prescription sunglasses. Ignoring nutrition, could you live off veggies for the rest of your life? God no. Has anyone taken their shirt off in front of you? Yeah. What time do you usually have dinner? 5:30-6:30, usually. What’s your favourite meat? Chicken, I think. What is your favourite meal of the day and why? Breakfast. I just enjoy breakfast foods. What colour is your shampoo? White. Tell me a silly little old wive’s tale you believed when you were a child: My older sister got me to believe that if you said a word a ridiculous amount of times, it'd be the only word you knew how to say anymore, lmao. Shut up, I was little. What was the last magazine you bought? Do you subscribe to any? I don't buy magazines. Whose Facebook profile did you last look at? Was there anything that caught your attention? Uh, that's a good question. Do you regret your last relationship? Not at all. What’s better, mashed potatoes or sweet potatoes? Mashed potatoes, though I'm picky with them and the texture. Did you ever used to make cookies, cakes, or pie with your grandma? No. Do you like kids? Not especially. They ask too many questions and can be really rude, even though I know they usually don't mean to be. What are you listening to? I'm watching Gab Smolders play Dino Crisis 2. I finished her playthrough of Final Fantasy X, so now I feel a void in my soul that I am trying to fill with a new series lmao. Do you burn incense? Not really anymore. I'm not against it, I just... haven't. What is your favorite kind of cracker? Cheese-Itz. Can you name a single song by Billy Joel without looking it up? Yeah; I can name a few, actually. My dad loves Billy Joel, so I heard him a lot growing up. "Piano Man" is a classic. Do you like regular peppermint candy canes, or do you prefer different flavored ones [fruits, bubble gum, cinnamon, etc.]? I actually really like the Jolly Rancher ones. Have you ever been kissed while sitting atop the hood of a car? That's actually possible... but I'm not sure. I think I have a faint memory of lying on a car hood with Jason before. What do you think is the dumbest/tackiest piercing? I don't like calling a piercing either of those, like if they make someone feel more confident and attractive, good for them. I can say I'm personally not a fan of the smiley piercing, though. Have you ever requested a song on the radio? No. When I was a kid at a birthday party, though, one of the girls did. Does your mother still take care of you if you get ill? She helps a lot, yeah. What is one song that always brings back memories every time you hear it? Honestly, too many. I attach way too aggressively to songs. Do you currently have any pimples? Not currently, no. Did anything disturb your sleep at all last night? Ugh, yes. I couldn't sleep for shit. How does it make you feel looking at pics with your ex and someone else? I have only seen one picture of Jason with the girl he dated after me and it. Set. Me. On. Fucking. Fire. It's pathetic. If you’re not in college, why? All it did was give me emotional breakdowns. What do you think about MTV? I am way too out of the loop on what goes on on any TV channel to answer this. What was your very first day of your very first job like? What’d you do? How long did it take you to get the hang of it, and feel comfortable with working? This was waaaay too long ago... All I remember is actually being hopeful, though nervous. I never got to the point of feeling comfortable there. Or at any job. If you have a dog, are they friendly to strangers or other dogs? We don't have a dog, but we do have a cat that is EXTREMELY skittish around strangers. Someone he doesn't know comes through the door? He's bolting to hide. Do people ever comment on or joke about your driving? Well, I got flipped off once by a driver, so... I'd consider that a silent comment. I, to this day, don't know why they (it was a group of guys) did it, but it's stuck with me. What was the last thing to move you? Are you easily moved or inspired? The ending of FFX alsdkfjkaljlkwjer. And yes. If you`ve ever seen your very favorite band, did you cry when you saw them? Was it like a dream come true? If you`ve never seen them, do you think you would? I haven't, but I probably would a little bit. Of all the reality competitions you’ve watched, who are some of your all-time favorite contestants and what shows were they from? From America's Got Talent, I adore(d) Landau Eugene Murphy Jr., as well as Prince Poppycock. I keep up with them both on Facebook. Ever had a friend named Alex or John? One of my closest online friends was Alex. A couple years ago she just... got a boyfriend and fell off the face of the earth. Are you happy with your relationship status? I mean... no, I'm ridiculously lonely, but being single is for the best right now. What kind of stuff do you like on your hot dogs? Just ketchup and mustard. Have you ever been in a spelling bee? No. What is the most annoying thing that your parents do? Mom absolutely always assumes she's right. Dad repeats himself like CRAZY. Would you say you’re someone who has good manners? Yes. Did you parents know what gender you were before you were born? Actually, the doctors couldn't determine mine (or any of Mom's kids') because my legs were ALWAYS crossed when they did ultrasounds. Mom says she "knew" I was a girl, though. Have you ever been addicted to something unhealthy? I'm addicted to caffeine, yes. Who makes the best desserts in your entire family? Hm, I dunno. Do you have good dreams or nightmares more? I have very severe sleep apnea that results in very violent nightmares almost any time I sleep without my APAP mask. Even WITH the damn mask, I have them a lot. When was the last time someone insulted you? What was the insult? *shrug* Do you have trouble reading small fonts? Yes. I used to find it aesthetically pleasing, but my vision is just too bad now, even with my (shitty) glasses. Do you know anybody that believes that magic/witchery truly exists? I think so. Do you find watching animals in their natural habitat to be exciting & fascinating? Absolutely!! The last time you had sex: did you want it, or did the other person want it? ... You know it's supposed to be a mutual desire, right?? What does your sibling(s) call you? "Britt." Has anyone you’ve known claimed to be psychic? Maybe? I'm unsure. Did/do you believe them? Hell no. I don't believe in psychics and believe people who claim to be so are manipulative pieces of shit. Is anything annoying you right now? I am bored to an inexplicable level askldjfla;wejlr. Have you ever worn a pair of scrubs? Yeah. Anything in your room that you’re hiding from your parents or someone else? No. Have you ever felt abandoned? Well yes. By definition, my dad abandoned our family. Where are you? I’m in my bed. What’s been the worst part of this day? I've just been so, so bored. I'm sick and fucking tired of dealing with anhedonia. Who last encouraged you to better yourself? My therapist.

#survey #surveys #random questions #lyrics: ''throne'' by bring me the horizon

1 note · View note

oskea93 · 4 years

Text

My Heart Has a History (3)

Everything was set for the dinner.

I had made Matthew's parents favorite food and even a few things that Wyatt could eat. Vivian Abbott was the epitome of a sophisticated lady. She spent most of her days at local country clubs, playing tennis and eating meals that cost more than the food in my fridge. She would go on shopping trips with her girlfriends every other weekend and vacationed in the most elegant places. Matthew's dad, Brian, was on the quiet side. He didn't talk much other than the simple hello and goodbye. From what I've heard about Matt's childhood, it seems that his dad wasn't always there. He was a true businessman and it seemed that having a child hindered that in a way. Matt was basically raised by nannies and those that worked for his parents. I couldn't imagine living that kind of life or even having my children being raised that way. I guess that's why Vivian and Brian have never been partial to having Wyatt around when they visited… "Do I look okay?" Matthew's head snapped up from his phone. "Do I look presentable?" I stared at my reflection in the mirror, already second guessing my outfit. I had bought the outfit at one of the maternity stores in the mall without trying it on, which I was regretting at this point. I wanted to be able to look sleek and professional seeing as that's how Vivian and Brian always looked. If it were up to me, I would be wearing Nike shorts and tank top right now. "You look great, babe." Matt spoke as he walked over to me, wrapping his arms around my middle. "Very sexy." I rolled my eyes as I pushed him away and went back to the bed. "What's the matter?" I let out a sigh as I folded up a random shirt. "Did I do something wrong?" I shook my head as I took a seat on the bed, having Matt follow suit seconds later. He took my hand in his, drawing circles with his thumb. "Everything okay?" I nodded my head as I made eye contact with him. I didn't know how to word what I wanted to tell him or even how he would take it once I did tell him. "I'm just worried your parents won't like everything. I wanted everything to be perfect and it seems like it's all going to hell." Matt let out a sigh. "I know how much your mom and dad like fancy things and I figured that making a four-course meal and buying a nice dress would do the trick but the dinners burnt and my dress barely fits." Jonathan let out a chuckle as he wrapped his arm around me. "You worry too much, babe." He started. "The dinner is perfect and you look amazing in that dress." He pressed his lips against the side of my head. "I hope you're right." I muttered…

Vivian and Brian arrived 10 minutes later and I was a nervous wreck. My heart was thumping in my chest as they greeted their only child. Wyatt was standing next to me, impatiently waiting to be greeted as well. I knew that Matt's parents weren't very fond of Wyatt. He was the product of a marriage that their son was not a part of and they had no reason to accept him into their family. It was as if Wyatt wasn't even there at times. At this age, he didn't care because he didn't know them that well. To him, they were simply strangers who came over once in a blue moon. The only thing that worried me was once the baby was born, they would be gushing all over her and he would be left out in the cold. "Presley-" Vivian's voice snapped me out of my thoughts. "You look darling." I gave her a smile as she pulled me into her arms. "You look great as well, Vivian." I replied once we were face to face. "I love the dress." I could have kicked myself at that moment. All she did was smile and turned her attention back to Matt. I looked down at Wyatt and gave him a small smile. "Can we eat yet?" He asked aloud, causing everyone to look at him. Matt let out a chuckle as Vivian looked a bit annoyed but struggled to hide it. "Why don't we go into the living room and Presley can get Wyatt something to eat." Jonathan suggested. I agreed as I grabbed a hold of my son's hand and led him toward the kitchen. "Mommy, is daddy coming over tonight?" He asked once I set him on the counter. "He said he would come over and tuck me in." I let out a sigh. I didn't know whether Wyatt was just thinking that Jax would be over or if he was indeed coming over without me knowing. If he was to come over, hopefully it would be later when Vivian and Brian were gone. "I don't know baby; I haven't talked to daddy in a while." A little pout formed across his lips. "We can call daddy here in a minute if you want?" I tried to compromise. He quickly nodded his head. "Okay, we'll call daddy after dinner." I opened the fridge and found the meal I had prepared for him since he wouldn't have eaten what everyone else was having. He was just as picky as his father. I could hear the others talking and laughing in the other room but I wasn't in a rush to join them. Wyatt was my priority, not Vivian Abbott. "Let's get you off the counter so you can eat." I picked him off the counter and placed him on the floor. He raced to the table where I had already set up his utensils and had a glass of apple juice waiting for him. I brought his dinner over and made sure to cut everything up before he could eat. He was so much like Jax, especially when it came to food. "This is good, mama." He said in between bites of chicken. I let out a chuckle as I watched him eat. "Presley?" Matt asked as he came into the kitchen. "Babe, my parents want to talk to you." He sounded a bit annoyed. "Wyatt's eating." I simply told him. "I'll come out when he’s done." I could tell that he wasn't happy with my answer but decided not to protest. He made his way back out the door while Wyatt and I stayed in the kitchen. "I don't like those people." Wyatt spoke. I looked down at him, not knowing what to say. I couldn't tell him that I didn't like them either but he was right. Vivian and Brian were not children friendly, they weren't even people friendly…. I must have sat there with Wyatt for close to thirty minutes before he decided he was done with dinner. It was almost seven and I knew Brian and Vivian were madder than a bunch of hornets. I didn't realize that time had gone by so fast or else I would have fed Wyatt at the table with us, but then again Vivian would have been pissed about that. I picked Wyatt up and walked us into the living room, earning daggers from Vivian as I walked in. "Presley, you shouldn't be carrying that child around in the condition you're in." She protested as I set Wyatt next to Matt. "He could have kicked you in the stomach and injured the baby." I mentally rolled my eye as I wedged myself onto the couch. The dress I was wearing was starting to piss me off more than being with my mother-in-law. "So, can we eat now or do we have more children to feed?" Vivian smarted off. I could have leapt off the seat and punched her in the face but I refrained from doing so. "We can eat now." I sneered back. I wanted to come back with a smart ass comment but I wasn’t in the mood to start a fight with her or Matt…. The dinner went well and without confrontation. I minded my own business and only talked when I was asked a question. Wyatt would occasionally talk here and there but Vivian and Brian payed no mind to him. Everything was going okay until the door opened and Jax's voice rang through the house. "Daddy!" Wyatt jumped out of his seat, causing his desert plate to fall to the floor. Matt whispered out a string of curse words as he quickly got up to clean the mess. I caught Vivian whispering in Brian's ear, causing him to shake his head in return. I scurried out of my seat and stomped towards my son and his father as they hugged. Jax was the first to notice my presence, a smile forming on his face. "You look nice." He smirked as I stood there with my arms crossed and a sour expression. "Have you ever heard of calling or texting?" I tried my best to keep from yelling. "You can't just barge into someone's house without knocking." He rolled his eyes as he perched Wyatt on his hip. "I did knock, twice actually." He held up two fingers for dramatic effect. "I take it the in-laws are over." Before I could respond, Matt rounded the corner. "Jackson- "He began. "I didn't know you were paying us a visit tonight." His body was stiff as he placed his hands in his pockets. Every time Jax and Matt were in the same room, it was filled with nothing but tension. "Yeah, well I promised Wyatt that I would come over after I got back." Jonathan just nodded his head as he placed an arm around my waist. Jax's eyes drifted to where his arm had gone but kept his mouth shut as his eyes returned to mine. "Daddy will you tuck me in?" Wyatt broke the ice as he grabbed a hold of Jax's hand. "And read me a story." Jax looked down at his son and smiled. "I sure will, bud." I gave Wyatt a smile as he pushed past Matt and I, dragging his father behind him and up the stairs. "I'll be up in a few, baby." I told him before he was out of sight. The air between Matt and I was tense as we both stayed silent before he finally spoke. "We'll talk about this later." I looked at him a bit taken back, seeing as there was nothing to talk about. It wasn't my fault that Jax just showed up, I'm not his keeper. I let out a sigh before I followed him back into the dining room where his parents awaited us…. Jax's POV "I want you to stay with me, daddy." Wyatt pleaded as he held onto my shirt. "Please." I bent down and kissed his blonde head. "If I could I would, buddy." I could tell my answer wasn't what he wanted to hear but it was the truth. There was no way Matt was gonna let me stay in his house overnight with my son and ex-wife. "I want to go home with you then." Wyatt protested. "I don't want you to leave me." I let out a sigh as I wrapped my arms around his small body. I lifted him into my lap as I cradled him close. "Listen-" I began. "When I get back home, I promise you can stay over for the night if it's okay with mommy." He didn't say anything. "We'll have a big party with chips, cookies, and everything else mommy doesn't let you have." A small smile began to form on his face as he snuggled further into my chest. "Can mommy come?" He whispered. The smile dropped from my face as I stared straight ahead. "I don't think mommy will be able to stay the night, bud." I knew that everything was starting to get confusing for him. His favorite question when it came to his mother and I was "why." When Presley and I divorced, Wyatt was almost two years old. He didn't realize what was going on at the time but now that he's older, he wants to know why his mom and dad aren't together like the kids he goes to school with. Hell, half of those kid's parents aren't together either but at least they aren't married to other people. I stayed with Wyatt until he finally fell asleep. He tried his hardest to stay awake as I told him stories from my childhood but he just couldn't keep his eyes open after long. I made sure to tuck him under the sheets and pressed a kiss against his forehead before leaving the room. As I made my way down the stairs, I could hear Matt and Presley having a heated conversation. I didn't mean to be nosey but once I heard my son's name along with my own come out of Matt’s mouth, I had to stay put and listen to what he had to say… Presley's POV "I don't like how he just barges into my home. He acts like he owns the place, Presley." I rolled my eyes as Jonathan continued to drill his anger into me. "I feel like you're not even listening to me right now, Pres. My parents were here and he has to walk into my home like he's still married to you." I let out a sigh as I took a seat at the table. My feet and back were killing me and I wasn't in the mood to get lectured from my current husband about my ex-husband. "I don't know what you want me to say." I spoke up. "I have no control over what Jax does and doesn't do and I'm not gonna keep him from seeing Wyatt just because your parents have a problem with it." His entire back became rigid. "Jax told me that he knocked before he came in and I believe him, Matt. Jax would never enter a house that wasn't his own without knocking.” "Whatever-" I watched as he threw down the dishtowel. I kept my focus on my mug as he stormed past me and up the stairs to the bedroom. I couldn't believe that he was upset about all of this. If his parents hadn't of came, we wouldn't be bickering about anything. I had a feeling that tonight was going to suck but this was just ridiculous…

#Jax Teller #jax teller fanfiction #jax teller imagine #Jackson Teller #soa #sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy fanfiction #sons of anarchy imagine #Charlie Hunnam

27 notes · View notes

gershwinn · 5 years

Photo

Lili Reinhart Never Had a Backup Plan

A fan favorite on the wildly popular teen soap Riverdale, Lili Reinhart has major movie stardom in her sights. And if you ask nicely, she just might read your horoscope.

Refreshingly, Reinhart is not vegan, gluten-free, keto, or on a macrobiotic diet. She is a self-described picky eater and considers this a treat. "No one wants to go [here] with me," she says, excitedly, when we sit down. Though Reinhart is dressed unfussily, in a faded black tee, Topshop denim jacket, jeans, thin hoop earrings, and a taupe baseball cap pulled over her buttery blonde hair, she is promptly approached by a woman at the next table. There's a lot the cap isn't hiding. Off-screen, Reinhart's eyes look as wide, upturned, and full-lashed as a Disney princess's; her clear, milky complexion is dotted youthfully with freckles; and her dimples seem to take turns showing off: a slight divot in her chin, then twin creases that show up on either side of her face when she's amused.

The woman leans over and asks Reinhart if she is on TV. Reinhart's lips tighten, and a wince flickers at her eyes, but she gives a polite smile and nods slowly. The woman plows on. Her son is a big fan, she says, motioning to a grinning boy beside her. He's an aspiring actor, and they're in town from Texas to give it a try. Reinhart relaxes a bit. She asks what part of Texas they are from, sincerely congratulates the boy on his endeavors, and turns to resume our interview. Reinhart says this moment — and others like it — is more full circle than she would care to admit.

"It's funny. I went to this Cheesecake Factory with my mom when I was, like, 15," she says. "We had flown in for an audition. I was sitting at the table over there, and I remember I got the email that I didn't get the part." Also around that time, Reinhart recalls spotting Zac Efron in a doctor's-office waiting room and surreptitiously snapping a photo of the actor. "I feel so gross about it now," she says. "It is flattering, but it also makes you feel like a zoo animal. Even when I'm sitting in the cast greenroom, if [someone is] holding their phone up like this, I'm like, ‘What are you doing?' I've become very paranoid."

I ask what she thinks about that F-word: fame. She changes the subject. "Cute boots," she remarks. I am flattered and launch into a monologue about how much I love Primark, specifically the one in Madrid, before realizing what she's done and ask her once more to talk. About. Fame. "It's so weird," she says, finally. "I don't really think about it until I'm around people. I don't think about it until I see young women, because those are the people that recognize me. Then all of a sudden, I become very aware."

True to her word, I notice Reinhart physically tenses up every time a teenage girl — or worse, a group of teenage girls — nears us. But when she's not on high alert for high schoolers, Reinhart is unguarded to a degree I would not expect from any stranger, much less one whose privacy is under constant scrutiny. For starters, she texts me directly, rather than having an assistant or manager handle our communication (standard for most celebrities).

Later that night, we decide on a meeting location for the next day. "As long as we go somewhere with eggs, I'm happy," she texts, before we settle on Dialog Cafe in West Hollywood and push back the time — neither of us feels like showing up before 9 a.m. Reinhart has an ease and openness in conversation that makes talking to her feel more like a slumber party than an interview. She volunteers thoughts on cute babies (just her goddaughter, for now), romantic love (something she prefers to fall into rarely, and fiercely), taking a spouse's surname (she favors hyphenation), and being the "grandma" of her friend group.

"When I get drunk, my friends act like it's a national holiday," Reinhart says. She offers up snippets from her camera roll and Instagram direct messages: photos of the hot-air balloon ride her boyfriend, Cole Sprouse, took her on for her birthday, and a dog she wishes were up for adoption — a shaggy shelter pup with no eyes. And just when I think I couldn't feel any more like the real-life Veronica to her Betty, she asks me if I want to go shopping.

Reinhart leads us by memory through a sprawling Barnes & Noble, up to two flights of escalators, then over to the left and back toward the windows, until we end up in the self-improvement section. Reinhart used to come here with friends, back when she first moved to L.A., and spend time poring over books like The Secret Language of Your Name. She tells me the provenance of her given name: Daniel and Amy Reinhart of Cleveland fell in love, got married, and named their second daughter after the actor Lili Taylor. There wasn't any special connection. "They just liked the spelling of her name. It's the French spelling."

Reinhart drags a dictionary-thick tome from the shelf. "This is a book that I own," she says, handing it to me. It's as weighty as a textbook — it has to be, because it guarantees deep and profound knowledge about absolutely everyone, based on their date of birth. She helps me look up mine, which is hilariously titled the Day of Sensual Charisma. Hers is September 13, which the book has ordained the Day of Passionate Care. She reads the entry aloud. "Resilient determination. That sounds about right," she says. "This part is very true: ‘They may face great obstacles to their success, but not for a moment will the outcome be in doubt for them.' I always knew this is what I was going to do. I never had a plan B." It might be difficult to imagine what the aforementioned "great obstacles" have been, considering the fact that she had landed her role on Riverdale by the age of 19.

But being young and female in just about any work environment can have its dark side. Reinhart was 16 when an adult work associate attempted to force himself on her. "I felt physically pinned down to the ground while someone dry humped me, basically," she says. She has spoken publicly about the assault before — but in retrospect, she believes those statements were premature. "I think I shared my story…before I had really understood it," Reinhart says. "I kept thinking of it as something physical, but it was more so a psychological abuse...that spanned a couple of months. I went along with it and was trying to get his approval because we were working together…. I wanted my work environment to be easy."

She was also a minor at the time, being exploited by someone in a position of power. It's clearly difficult for Reinhart to recount. When trying to recall details — how long it went on, whether verbal abuse was involved — she speaks evenly, but frequently pauses and tells me that that time in her life is "blurry" or that she's "locked it away." "What makes me hopeful is people like [Supergirl and Glee actor] Melissa Benoist sharing her story of domestic abuse with the world, because I think she helped a lot of people by doing that. When people come forward about a sexual abuse experience or physical abuse or them struggling with a disorder, they're encouraging other people to not suffer in silence."

Another personal obstacle Reinhart has been vocal about is mental health. She recently read an article she can't get out of her head, about a child under the age of 10 who ended his life after being severely bullied. "Now more than ever, we need to be bringing the idea of mental health into schools and teaching it," Reinhart says. "It's about communicating clearly." She recalls experiencing crippling anxiety when she was growing up. "I felt very alone. But I was not being bullied, which made it really hard for my parents to understand," Reinhart says.

Her high school experience couldn't have been more different from that of Betty Cooper, who drifts easily between cheerleading, running the school newspaper, and solving mysteries, with a cadre of unusually attractive friends by her side. "I went through a semester when I didn't have any friends in my lunch period, and I didn't want to sit in a huge cafeteria by myself, so I would find classrooms to go sit in alone, or spend time in the bathroom, just chilling," she recalls.

By the time Reinhart began working (she supported herself as a waitress and a Pier 1 sales associate before she landed Riverdale), she was just trying to get through the week without having a panic attack.

Now that time in her life is growing distant. And she'll get to go to prom for the first time, on this season of the show. "Three and a half years ago, I had no money. I didn't have a love in my life like I do now. I didn't have any sort of confidence that I was on the right track, and now I have those things," Reinhart says. And her momentum shows no signs of stopping. The week after our interview, she filmed her first commercial for CoverGirl, which recently signed her as one of its faces. A forthcoming collection of her poetry, Swimming Lessons, will hit bookstores this May.

Pay, or equal pay, has been an issue and probably will continue to be. But Reinhart is prepared. "Cami [Mendes, who plays Veronica] and I have had to deal with that from Riverdale," Reinhart says.

"Going into projects in the future, I'm much more aware of it. So is my lawyer." She's also learned from the experiences of women like Michelle Williams and Taraji P. Henson. "I was taking notes," she says. "Taraji Henson had said something like, when she renegotiated for Empire, she knew her value to the show. She knew what that value was, and she demanded it." Reinhart pauses, choosing her words, sounding more sure of herself with each sentence: "I do know the value that I bring as someone who attracts an audience. And I'm not going to accept less than what I think I'm worth. And it's okay to fight for what I'm worth."

Source: Allure

#This is long but I don't care bc this interview is amazing!!!!#holy shit so much #in there #from the growin up stuff #dealing with fame #her mental health #knowing her WORTH #GO LILI #god the me too thing always hurts my heart #every time its brought up #her strenght tho #lr #lr allure #tldr: that love quote?#hit me right in he feels as it should #OH and hypenation?? thanks death

166 notes · View notes

alluringoneirataxia · 4 years

Photo

Long Winding Road Stay Strapped My Dude

By: Astoria Cathryn Andromeda

Alrighty, this is a long one boys. So I touched briefly on this in my Welcome to Literally Everything post. No worries I'll recap you, so you don't have to switch back and forth. I just diagnosed with autism spectrum disorder, and then ADHD when I was 18 years old, and even then I had to fight for it after countless hours of research. See, there seems to be a wee bit of misogyny in the neurodiverse diagnoses. When I say a wee bit, I mean that scientists used to think that only boy could be autistic or ADHD. They only studied autism in males. Fortunately, nowadays we know that girls can be autistic and/or ADHD, but we present the traits differently than boys, and a lot of our traits are played off due to gender roles in society. For example, being overly talkative in girls is called chatty, whereas boys who can't sit still are sent off for testing immediately. This also causes problems for the boys, because little Johnny gets put on Adderall at the ripe age of 6 years old, just because he can't sit still for 8 hours straight, which by the way should not be expected of any elementary school kid, By the time, he's 25 he's 1) completely dependent on amphetamines 2) his body will stop producing dopamine due to being on the medication for so long. Nicht Gut. Generally, boys who are on the spectrum get picked out earlier due to late speaking, or lack of social skills. This is the one thing that girls happen to do better than boys. Girls are good at masking, which is basically taking social traits, phrases, personalities, demeanor, and copying them. In public, they put on a mask and at home, they have a meltdown. Girls are still not picked up as being on the spectrum, because shyness is called being 'ladylike' and 'dainty', and having a meltdown is just because :( girls are oh-so emotional, boohoo. Anyways tons of women do not get diagnosed with autism until they are well into their adulthood, I actually can be considered lucky to have technically still been a teenager when we finally got all the pieces together.

Alright, let's start with I don't know me as a baby. I did not speak until I was 2 years old, and then it was immediately full sentences from then on. I didn't do the babbling thing, which I don't know how impactful that really is to the topic. I was a very shy little girl. I was teeny tiny, we didn't know I if I was going to make it to 5 feet tall until I had a big growth spurt in 7th grade. I am 5'2 now and definitely done growing in case you were wondering, so not that short anymore. I did not like talking to adults, especially strangers, especially men. I did not look anyone in the face, and I will always hide behind my parent's legs when they would try to introduce me to people. I am an only child, and I spent a lot of time entertaining myself. I always had seasonal affective disorder, where my grades would dip in the winter. My parents knew I had a timer, they had 45 minutes from the moment they stepped into a restaurant before I would start breaking down. If I got off schedule as a toddler in any form, it was a catastrophe. Or this is what my parents and family tell me. I didn't really notice. I did not like being out in public a lot, I was a very picky eater, and I was extremely hyper. I was a very eccentric child, I only had 1-2 close friends and they were always a very well-liked outgoing girl who I just followed around. Looking back, I don't know how we missed it. I was shy because I didn't understand how social interactions worked, I was anxious about it because I didn't understand, I had sensory overloads, routines, and a very bland diet with a safe food which was ketchup. I put that shit on literally everything, eas, apples, mac and cheese, pizza, all meat, anything something forced me to eat that I did not like. But because I could sit still in class, and because I could zone out and daydream all day through school and still make A's nobody ever flagged me for anything and how I was supposed to know that not everybody just copied other people, scripted things before they talked, and could never pay attention. My mom always required me to be in a sport, and I was a gymnast and a swimmer for a long time, two very high-intensity sports, to help lower my energy levels, and because my mom has mild depression and she knows that exercise does help. Skip to middle school, my mom tells me I'm being bullied at church. It's not that I wasn't observing my surroundings I knew I was being excluded, but I didn't understand vindictive behavior, I thought it was my fault. I had zero friends in 8th grade until I sat down next to a random acqutaince I had gone to school with since I was 4 and the same gymnastics place. Then we were immediately attached at the hip after that. She is my best friend due this day and definitely got me through high school. Led me through so many social situations without either of us knowing. I had a very close friendgroup in highschool, all of them were on the drumline which I met through my best friend, and my first boyfriend was my best friend's neighbor. I ended up playing bass guitar for my high school's indoor drumline, and it was the best experience ever. I love my friends, but I had really bad depression when I was 15-now:) jk It's better. I didn't really realize I was depressed, I just didn't want to go to school, or swim practice, or do anything so of course, my mom noticed, and then once it was pointed out to me it got worse. My severe anxiety spiraled with my depression. Senior year of high school, my boyfriend and I were like toxic star crossed lovers, hurting each other over and over again without meaning to. My friends and I were self harming, all my close friends gad some demon going on. I finally decided to try therapy again after the disaster of being forced to go when I was 15 and the lady told me I wasn't depressed because I had a boyfriend and good grades. It helped a bit, I was able to get my panic attacks under control. Then I went away to college and stayed dating my senior high school boyfriend, we were just up and down as always, but with slightly better communication. My freshman year of college I joined a fraternity, a research lab, and my first hs boyfriend/ex/best friend and I went to a Christian campus place. By second semester, I had a lot of people who knew me and talked to me, but I didn't have any close friends, and even less close friends who were girls. All my close friends who were girls were at another college. My parents were worried about me, so they made me rush a sorority, which I knew was never my scene, but my parents made me join and I found a few girls I liked. Soon I was going to 6 classes, fraternity chapter, research lab meetings, christain crash group meetings, soriorty pledge meetings all on every Tuesday. I was different person at each of these events and wore a different mask. I was having what I know now were autistic burnout meltdowns every single day on the phone in my crusty dorm's stairwell. It was not cute. His mental health had always been bad too. Finally I decide I need to try a psychatrist and go back to therapy, and then he broke up with me. Then I made my first close friend, a guy who was in 3 of classes, and I took him to my fraternity's formal, and then coronavirus happened. Rona kinda saved my grades, and mental health by sending us home event though it did suck. I got on anti-anxiety meds and things went up, but I was still having what I thought were panic attacks, they were austistic meltdowns. My psychiatrist, he's kinda an asshole, he diagnosed me with Obessive Compulsive Personality Disorder. I'll insert definition here: (OCPD) is a personality disorder that's characterized by extreme perfectionism, order, and neatness. People with OCPD will also feel a severe need to impose their own standards on their outside environment.> Basically hr told me I had rules for everything like how everyone drives on the right side of the road, but nobodythinks about it andwhen I broke one of my rules I got depressed, and when wasn't perfect I got depressed, and when I made an A I was relieved not proud. The diagnosis seemed to fit really well, and my therapist and I started working finding my rules, and getting rid of the bad ones, and making the others less harsh. I had thought every once and in a while in my life when I was really upset, what if I'm on the spectrum, because I just felt so hopeless for social interactions and I didn't understand. I always felt like I was a very specific person, but after the ocpd I started thinking more and more, and I saw a tik tok of a girl with lae diagnosed autism basically describing me and ranting about the misogyny. I did more research and I decide, yea I'mm gonna bring it up to mypsychatrist well he's a dick, so he was like um you don't act like sheldon cooper from the Big Bang theory,and I was like wellI just I have always thought I might have adhd like be neureodiverse, and he was like your grade point average in hs was a 97.8%, you're not adhd. I immediately cried, because I can't handle when anyone says anything in a even a slightest stringent tone. I'm baby, I know lmao. It made me angry though because I felt like he just brushed away all of my struggles I had in my whole life. I spent hours researching and typed up a 47 page document on evidence for why I was on the spectrum, and had my parents help will some of checklists to make sure I was getting outside perspectives. I rally my parents to be my back up and next psychiatrist appointment we actually talk about it and he asked my parents questions about when I was young and such and finally he was okay you're on the spectrum. I felt so validated and like I could start being myself. I slowly got more and more confident, changed my style of clothing, and researched more about adhd pushed to be tested, and oh look at that I also have ADHD. So basically discourse: "I feel like as a child I coded a machine to do life for me so I didn’t get bothered except I didn’t know about the machine I thought i was the machine and now I’ve become self aware and I have to learn how to read the code and rewrite the code because it’s dysfunctional because I’m not functioning well as a human being. I was really shy as a child. I would turn beat red when people talked to me or looked at me so I think I started cookie cutting situations and using them over and over again because they worked until I accidentally hard wired these expansion rules and expectations for myself. I didn’t may attention is class ever I just day dreamed and if I got good grades i wouldn’t be bothered i could just stay in my head and if I did my sport well my parents didn’t bother me. I was never asked if I did my homework I just did it so I wouldn’t be asked and have to deal with that situation. I would cookie cutter situations in class that would draw the least attention to myself.

I feel like i don’t have friends I just fulfill the expectation like a side quest on video games" I wrote this down pre autism confirmation when i just thought I had ocpd. Now I don't directly identify with ocpd, but I definitely think I developed that personality disorder a bit from living with undiagnosed autism. I am linking below the very informative Tik Toks by the lovely Paige on autism in girls. The imposter syndrome one really hit home. I had had so many panic attacks about thinking I tricked people into being my friend, or thinking I was smart.

I highly suggest watching these short tik toks, you'll definitely learn something

https://vm.tiktok.com/wVvcYA/

https://vm.tiktok.com/wqRRUf/

https://vm.tiktok.com/wnqhvX/

https://vm.tiktok.com/wqeyYg/

https://vm.tiktok.com/wnoE7u/

https://vm.tiktok.com/Kas6gB/

https://vm.tiktok.com/owM9hs/

Imposter syndrome

I am also linking an article about Sheldon Cooper from Big Bang Theory and Autism that explains why my psychiatrist was wrong, and also I am a girl and the spectrum is called a spectrum because it's a fucking spectrum no two autistic people are exactly the same it's like a color wheel.

http://www.autismsupportnetwork.com/news/problem-sheldon-cooper-and-cute-autism-387783

Here is a fun comic about the spectrum and how to view it.

https://the-art-of-autism.com/understanding-the-spectrum-a-comic-strip-explanation/

I am still learning about myself, and how to be me, and how to be myself but without breaking bad social rules. It's quite humorous though because I'll learn something is related to autism and I'm like oh shit again, like still, like, we're still discovering things.

"Tu ne me manques pas"

Bis später,

Astoria.

#asd #autisminwomen #autism #actuallyautistic #aspie #aspie memes

16 notes · View notes

purplesurveys · 4 years

Text

967

Last time you were attacked by an animal? Like 10 years ago when I was at a zoo and this big angry bird came charging at me even though I was in a large group.

Are you paranoid all the time or just during the night? I’m always paranoid. I don’t think it’s magnified during the night; I just always am. The most paranoid-y thing I do is take double, triple, quadruple, quintuple takes on things, like checking if the front door is locked or, if I’m outside, making sure the bag I brought is in the car with me.

Have you ever dated someone without knowing their name? No. That’s so weird. I can kiiiinda forgive forgetting names on the first date, but not knowing the name entirely? How is that dating the person? Haha.

Has a stranger ever asked for your phone/cell number? Technically. I’ve had strangers hand me surveys before and those usually ask for my contact details. I usually give away my email, but whether I give out my phone number is a hit or miss.

Would you help a friend bury a dead body? If they murdered the person out of self defense/fear for their own life, absolutely. < That’s a good one that I’d have to agree with. If they were hiding the bodies of like, their parents or a child or anyone else who was completely innocent, I’d probably have to turn them in.

Do you have bad posture? Yes. I have scoliosis as well, so that has even worsened the posture.

Have you ever spelled the word ‘grammar’ wrong? I doubt it. I’ve always been aware of the spelling, I think.

If someone cusses/swears a lot, do you assume they have bad grammar? No. For the most part, I feel like that has little to do with their grammar. Patrice used to swear in every sentence when I still had to work with her but she’s also one of the smartest people I know, so the correlation just isn’t there for me.

Is there someone you are avoiding? I wouldn’t say I’m avoiding them. I’ve just decided to stop reaching out because doing so has been a waste of my time.

Is there someone that is avoiding you? I don’t think so.

Would you only date people that have the same skin tone as you? ??? No?

Are your parents/guardians picky about who you date? I don’t think my dad is but my mom definitely has her expectations. I’m sure she wants her kids’ significant others to be Catholic and to have a good relationship with God lol eugh. She’s not getting that from me, at least.

If you go to an all-you-can-eat buffet, how much do you really eat? 2-4 plates, and I usually eat in a specific order – Indian and Chinese, then Japanese (mostly sushi and sashimi), then cheeses, then desserts. But how much I eat also depends on if I rush my stomach, hence the range of 2-4. I can definitely eat more if I pace myself, but if I inhale my food from the very first plate I’m bound to feel full much faster.

If you need to ask a question in class do you raise your hand? I usually never had any questions while I was still in class, so I never felt the need to raise my hand. My classmates always ended up coming up with good questions, anyway.

How about speak out loud? I never grew out of my shyness in a classroom setting. Even if I knew the answer, I almost never raised my hand to recite and would only do so if I was directly called.

How many times have you been engaged (if any at all)? Never.

What do you think of the United States? Don’t get me started. Not saying mine isn’t any better because it sure isn’t, but watching US issues unfold from outside makes me glad I don’t live there. From white people not wearing masks at grocery stores, to seeing videos at least once a month of Asians being yelled at in a bus or subway also by white people, to hearing about innocent Black people killed by the police, and that annoying ass girl with the curly hair taking her guns with her in school, and all the fake news and of course, their president... it just looks so chaotic in there. And then of course there’s the imperialism and colonialism that continues to affect my country to this day that I’ll always be resentful over, so yeah I pretty much have not-very-nice feelings towards the country.

Is the United States really the best country in the world? It never was. I don’t know if there is one. Canada maybe? Switzerland? Definitely not the US.

Do you know where your femur is? Thigh sure do. HAHAHAHA sorry

Do you believe everything you read? No. Especially not today, and especially if I read it on the internet.

Do you have to see something to really believe it? Yes, but it also has to come with facts or credibility. If I see a random flashing circle in the sky I wouldn’t automatically assume it’s a UFO, but if some institution like NASA confirmed that it was one, it would make me believe a lot faster.

Have you ever gotten so dehydrated that you passed out? Dehydrated and hungry, yes. Happened lots of times to me when I was younger. I was a very faint-y kid lol

If your friend was being cheated on, would you tell them? In a heartbeat. It’d be a gentle warning though, like, “Hey, I think I saw your bf/gf with this other person...” and I wanna make sure it just comes off as a friendly heads-up from a friend who’s simply looking out for them. I don’t want to stress them out by blowing things out of proportion and automatically assuming that their SO is cheating.

Do you always assume the worst? Yeah always. It makes the actual results not as disappointing.

Are you allowed to go off school campus to eat lunch? In college, yes. That’s why we have a mall literally named after our school right outside the campus. We were forbidden to leave the school grounds in grade school and high school; I don’t think any private school here allows for that.

Have you ever been called something and you didn’t know what it meant? I don’t think so. People don’t usually call me names, and the worst one I’ve been called is simply ‘bitch,’ back in Grade 7.

Do you believe everyone is gifted with something? Yeah I like being optimistic in that sense. Whether it’s an external talent or a soft skill, everyone I’ve come across has always had something to offer.

Are you sick and tired of life? Fucking yes.

Are you loving life? Not at the moment. I’m tired and I feel like everything’s at a standstill at this point in my life.

Are your eyes sensitive to sunlight? Not so much, unless I spent the entire day in a dark room. Otherwise I’m used to the sun; we have it all year long here.

Have you ever been busted for under age drinking? Well I never did that, so no. I waited until I turned 18.

Would you ever change your whole appearance? I’d revamp my hair and can start working out, but that’s all I’m changing.

Do you easily give into peer pressure? Not always. Most of the things I’ve gotten into have been decisions made on my own, like smoking or joining an org.

Do you have a picture of you and your lover kissing? We had a few, yeah.

Would you become a mathematician if you could? It personally doesn’t sound interesting to me.

Have you ever escaped death? Yes.

Have you witnessed a fight at school? I know frat fights happen all the time in my university, but thank fuck I never had to witness one. They’re such losers.

#survey #surveys

3 notes · View notes

ageofevermore · 4 years

Note

1-96

(1) Do You Sleep With Your Closet Doors Open Or Closed?

it’s a dual sliding door, so usually one sides open. but preferably, both doors are closed.

(2) Do You Have Freckles?

sometimes in the summer, not often though.

(3) Can You Whistle?

yes!

(4) Last Song You Listened To.

well for some reason there’s a guy on my TV singing God Bless The USA

(5) What Is Your Favourite Colour?

purple

(6) Relationship Status.

single because my favorite omegle guy won’t answer me

(7) What Is The Temperature Right Now?

48F / 9C

(8) Did You Wake Up Cranky?

i woke up wishing i was still asleep

(9) How Many Followers?

835

(10) Zodiac Sign.

Sun: Capricorn, Rising: Aries, Moon: Aquarius

(11) What Is Your Eye Colour?

brown / hazel

(12) Take A Vitamin Daily?

(13) Do You Sing In The Shower?

obviously, i’m not completely insane

(14) What Books Are You Reading?

whatever fucking book my english class assigned...

(15) Grab The Book Nearest To You, Turn To Page 64, Give Me Line 14.

i literally only have a text book by me and opening it is triggering

(16) Favourite Anime?

i don’t watch anime

(17) Last Person You Cried In Front Of?

my mom...about greys anatomy...but still my mom about christmas and my birthday. i cry alot, but i like REALLY cried about those two topics

(18) Do You Collect Anything?

chapstick, trauma, candles

(19) What Did You Have For Lunch?

it’s only 10am and i haven’t even thought about breakfast

(20) Do You Dance In The Car?

yes, and then my mom yells at me because i do nothing “subtly” and the entire car shakes

(21) Favourite Animal?

white siberian tigers, snow leopards, dolphins, and now elephants

(22) Do You Watch The Olympics?

unfortunately. i love gymnastics, but like, i’m not trying to watch men in toboggans and swim caps

(23) What Time Do You Usually Go To Bed?

anywhere between 12pm and 3am

(24) Are You Wearing Makeup Right Now?

no, i never wear makeup because it makes me look more ugly

(25) Do You Prefer To Swim In A Pool Or The Ocean?

ocean

(26) Favourite Tumblr Blog?

besides my friends i don’t really have a favorite blog, i stick to my circle and don’t venture very far

(27) Bottled Water Or Tap Water?

bottled.

(28) What Makes You Happy?

i couldn’t tell you...

(29) Post A Gif Of What You’re Currently Feeling Right Now.

(30) Do You Study Better With Or Without Music?

without, but i always start with it on. it never lasts more then two songs.

(31) Dogs Or Cats?

dogs

(32) If You Were A Crayon What Colour Would You Be?

a shade of purple from the crayola 200 pack

(33) PlayStation Or Xbox.

wii

(34) Would You Swim In The Lake Or Ocean?

ocean

(35) Do You Believe In Magic?

hell mothering fucking year i do baby, lets take that train to hogwarts

(36) What Colour Shirt Are You Wearing?

its a friends pj crop, so black and white stripped with the central perks logo

(37) Can You Curl Your Tongue?

yup

(38) Do You Save Money Or Spend It?

save money

(39) Is There Anything Pink Within 10 Feet Of You?

my cup

(40) Do You Have Any Obsessions Right Now?

stranger things ig

(41) Have You Ever Caught A Butterfly?

no, those assholes scare me, but i’ve grown + released them

(42) Are You Easily Influenced By Other People?

um chile, i would follow my best friend off a cliff with no hesitation

(43) Do You Have Strange Dreams?

all the fucking time

(44) Do You Like Going On Airplanes?

ITS MY FAVORITE FORM OF TRAVEL

(45) Name One Movie That Made You Cry.

the hannah montana movie

(46) Peanuts Or Sunflower Seeds?

peanuts

(47) If I Handed You A Concert Ticket Right Now, Who Would You Want The Performer To Be?

one direction

(48) Are You A Picky Eater?

yes

(49) Are You A Heavy Sleeper?

yes, but it takes me forever to fall asleep

(50) Do You Fear Thunder / Lightning?

yea, depends on the day and the level of scardy bitch i feel like being

(51) Do You Like To Read / Write?

i love both

(52) Do You Like Your Music Loud?

hell yeah, let me feel the beat in my kidneys

(53) Would You Rather Carve Pumpkins Or Wrap Presents?

carve pumpkins

(54) Put Your Music On Shuffle, What Is The First Song That Came Up?

no tears left to cry by ag

(55) What Season Are You In Right Now? (Weather)

fall

(56) What Are You Craving Right Now?

a churro + peppermint mocha frap

(57) Post A Screenshot Of Your Tumblr Feed.

(58) What Is Your Gender?

female (she/her)

(59) Coffee Or Tea?

iced coffee / sweet tea

(60) Do You Have Any Homework Right Now? If So, What Is It About?

yeah, i have environmental homework and US I homework and Algebra II homework

(61) What Is Your Sexuality?

bruh, idk

(62) Do You Make Your Bed In The Morning?

no, that shit’s never made

(63) Favourite Pokemon?

jigglypuff

(64) Favourite Social Media?

pintrest

(65) What’s Your Opinion On Instagram Stories?

they’re okay

(66) Do You Get Homesick?

no. i don’t miss thins very easily, i’m away from home for a week and i have no doubt that i could spend the rest of my life without going back.

(67) Are You A Virgin?

yes sir

(68) What Shampoo And Conditioner Are You Using Right Now?

idk, some really thick and heavy in hydration set

(69) If You Were Far From Home And Needed To Sleep For The Night, Would You Choose To Rent A Crappy Motel Room For $60 Or Sleep In Your Car For Free?

sleep in my car, though both options scare me

(70) Are Both Of Your Blood Parents Still In Your Life?

i have a strained relationship with my bio dad, but unfortunately i still have to associate myself with him a few times a year

(71) Whats The Next Movie You Want To See In Theaters?

black widow or spiderman 3, but i’m willing to see anything just take me back!

(72) Do You Miss Your Ex?

i’ve never had an ex, but i do wish krystian would stop ignoring me. stupid scotland boys

(73) What Is Your Favourite Quote Right Now?

“friends dont lie”

(74) What Eye Colour Do You Find Sexiest?

green / brown

(75) Did You Like Swinging As A Child? Do You Still Get Excited When You See A Swing Set?

i loved swinging, but a few years ago it started making me dizzy so i don’t swing very often anymore. but tire swings especially are my shit

(76) What Was The Last Thing You Ate?

chicken flavored ramen

(77) What Games Do You Have On Your Phone?

yes

(78) Would You Give A Homeless Person CPR If They Were Dying? Why Or Why Not?

yeah...because they’re dying and if i have the skills to save them...why wouldn’t i?

(79) Been On The Computer For 5 Hours Straight?

honey, i do full virtual high school. we stan a pandemic (we don’t)

(80) Stalked Someone On A Social Network?

social media stalker is my middle name. not anymore though, i haven’t been asked to find a boy in a while

(81) Do You Like Meeting New People?

no. i hate it. anxiety city man.

(82) Do You Wear Rings? If You Do, Take A Picture Of Them.

i don’t wear rings, but i really want to.

(83) Do You Sleep With Your Bedroom Door Open Or Closed?

closed

(84) What Are Three Things You Did Today?

woke up, watched stranger things, made ramen

(85) What Do You Wear To Bed?

whatever i fall asleep in.

(86) List All Of Your Different Beauty Products You Have Right Now.

are beauty and skincare the same? because i don’t own much makeup.

(87) Are You A Day Or Night Person?

i used to be a night person. but this pandemic has hit hard with depression and i’ve become a stay in bed all day person

(88) List All Of Your Video Games On Your Phone, Console Etc.

2048 balls, among us, ball sort puzzle, bubble shooter, bubble sort, color roll 3D, drag n merge, fit and squeeze, hole.io, mario kart, match 3D, nonogram.com, paint the cube, roof rails, solitare, spit, stacky dash, stair run, timber run...

(89) Tell Me About A Dream That You Had And When It Happened.

After my moms fiance died, I had a dream that he was able to come see my fifth grade play (he died just before it happened) and when we were walking out he got into the white car from fast and furious (we watched the movies together) and said he would see me again soon, then he drove off...like talk about weird

(90) Favourite Soda Drink?

rootbeer

(91) What Sounds Are Your Favourite?

i like a good clicking sound

(92) Do You Wear Jeans Or Sweats More?

sweats everyday all day

(93) How Do You Look Right Now?

like a fucking wreck

(94) Name Something That Relaxes You.

netflix

(95) What Tattoo Do You Want?

i want a bunch of little symbols, and i think it would be cute if i got a T for my mom, but i can’t tell her that because she might think i’m going soft and exploit my show of affection (jfc why am i like this lmao)

(96) Favourite YouTuber?

colleen ballinger

#soapy tag #pink tag #ask game

1 note · View note

demigodsanswer · 5 years

Text

Hazel Levesque: Into the Prophecy-verse pt. 1

Time for the prologue to an AU I’ve wanted to write for a long time and need to finally get out of my brain. Hazel is a little OOC in this, but that’s because it’s an AU where she grows up in the modern world, not the 1920s.

Description:

Rome was a three-thousand year old empire, with two capitals - Old Rome in Italy and New Rome in America. New Rome was the powerhouse of the gods and their hero’s.

The children of the Olympian gods lived amongst mortals, the most powerful of them joining the Legion, and some even earning fame status when major prophecies thrusted one or a few of them into the spot light.

Hazel Levesque is an unclaimed, unimportant demigod, unsuitable for the esteemed legion. And she’s about to find herself at the middle of a major prophecy.

~*~*~*~

Alright let’s do this one last time

“My name is Jason Grace. I’m the son of Jupiter and for ten years, I’ve the one and only child of the Big Three. I’m pretty sure you know the rest: I saved a bunch of people, fell in love, saved the city, and then I saved the city again and again and again. I also did this [cut to Jason getting hit in the head with a brick]. We don’t talk about that. Look, I’m a comic book, I’m a cereal, did a Christmas album, have an excellent theme song, and a so-so popsicle. I mean, I’ve looked worse. But after everything, I still love being the hero. I mean, who wouldn’t? So no matter how many hits I take, I always find a way to come back, because the only thing standing between this city and oblivion is me. There’s only one child of the Big Three. And you’re looking at him.”

Hazel was listening to her music too loud to hear Chiron calling her. She had her first day at some prep school for demigods, meaning she was leaving Chiron’s half-way house for unclaimed and untamable demigods.

New Rome was overflowing with demigods who either hadn’t been claimed or had been rejected from the Legion. Lupa had deemed her and her friend Leo “too insubordinate” for the Legion. He set the wolf on fire (an accident) and she had told the wolf to eat shit (not an accident.) Demigods who didn’t fit in the Legion and couldn’t live at their home with their mortal parents (like Hazel, who’s mom had been deem “unsuitable”) or didn’t have mortal parents (like Leo) lived in one of the half-way houses. There was hundreds of them around the country, all named “Chiron’s Half-Way House,” but only the New Rome branch was actually graced by the old Greek Centaur.

He did his best to train or rehabilitate problem kids, getting them ready for either the legion or the real world. He was the one who had insisted every demigod apply to some fancy, over-priced prep school. And Hazel was the only one of them dumb enough to be smart enough to get in.

“Do I have to go?” She asked Chiron, as he adjusted the collar of her uniform (which she already hated.)

“This is a step in the right direction for you Hazel.”

She tugged on one of her curls, pulling it straight in front of her eyes before letting it bounce back into place. Chiron led her out to the car. Leo was waiting out on the front porch.

“Don’t forget us little people while you’re off becoming some famous hero or some shit, Levesque.” He said, smiling.

Hazel pulled him into a hug. “Who could forget you?”

“I’ll bust you out as soon as I can,” he whispered.

Hazel sat, clearly angry, in the back of Chiron’s car. He couldn’t drive, being a centaur and all, so Argus, the thousand-eyed half-way house driver was behind the wheel, and Chiron lectured her about all of her opportunities.

“I don’t care,” Hazel protested. “I don’t want to go, I’m only here because I drew some pictures.” Her scholarship was art-based, that was true. She was a good artist. Not a really notable demigod skill, though. Still, someone had to mosaic all of Jason Grace’s accomplishments. They were only one year away from some world-ending prophecy that the tabloids still had yet to leak. So it was only a matter of time before Golden Boy Supreme (as Leo had nicknamed him) added another line on his resume. And if Hazel was lucky, which she rarely was, she’d be there to sculpt the whole thing in marble.

“You passed the entrance exam just like everyone else,” Chiron told her. “This is your opportunity, Hazel. Do you want to end up like --”

He cut himself off, but she knew how that sentence ended. Like her mother. Her mom wasn’t perfect, but she wasn’t bad. She was actually pretty cool. The courts were just picky about who was allowed to raise demigod children. Even mega-Hero Grace grew up with a foster mom - Sally Jackson, poster mom for good demigod parenting. Literally, her picture was on the side of buses. She had her own book. She had been on The View with the nine muses.

Her mom wasn’t Sally Jackson, for sure, but she always made sure Hazel had food, and she taught her how to draw. The court’s problem was her mom’s inability to hold down a job. The only thing she managed consistently was selling her own homemade jewelry. It was all bullshit though. If Hazel wasn’t a demigod, they never would have separated them.

“Whatever,” Hazel said as they pulled up to the school. She grabbed her backpack and suitcase, and preyed to whatever god her father was that she would be kicked out by the end of the day.

“Tie your shoes!” Chiron yelled after her. She ignored him.

Hazel walked into a whirlwind. The school was huge. Most people were in their uniforms, although a few wore ancient Roman style armor over theirs. Some carried stacks of books, and other had spears and swords. Half her day was academic - Latin, literature, history, science, and math. The other half was training - weaponry, climbing, survival skills, and pegasus riding. At least they had Pegasi here. She had been trained well enough at the half way house, but there were unfortunately lacking in magic horses. Well, besides Chiron’s lower half, which Hazel wasn’t too keen on riding.

“You’re shoe’s untied,” a stranger said, passing Hazel.

“Yeah, I know it’s a choice.”

The sneakers probably weren’t uniform, but she didn’t earn the label “insubordinate” for nothing.

She found her locker, wide and tall enough for armor, weapons, and other demigod provisions, and shoved her suitcase in it. She figured she would move into her dorm later on.

Someone opened the locker next to hers. “Oh this is so embarrassing,” Hazel said to her locker neighbor, “we are wearing the same jacket.” She laughed awkwardly, but the girl just rolled her eyes before walking away.

Off to a good start, Hazel though before grabbing her backpack and moving on to her first class.

Each class seemed to come with its own thousand pound textbook. And the long, winding hallways made it impossible to stop at her locker in between classes. By fifth period - history - she had four new text books and figured she was about to get one more.

She walked in late. She hoped the darkness of the room helped cover her late arrival, but she cast a shadow in front of the projector.

“Ah Miss. Levesque,” her history teacher, some old guy named Mr. Quintus, paused the movie, “you’re late.”

She shrugged, “Maybe y’all are just early.”

A girl with black spiky hair and dark eye make up let out a stifled chuckle. Quitus and Hazel looked at her. “Sorry, it was just so quiet.”

“Please take your seat, Miss, Levesque.” He started playing the movie again. Some history documentary. The Romans loved those. This one had some young narrator, who would have been handsome if it wasn’t for the scar down his face. With his blond hair and blue eyes, Hazel could have mistaken him for Jason Grace, if Jason were twenty-five, not fifteen.

“The Titan Saturn, lord of Time, was overthrown by Jupiter and his other brothers and sisters, and his remains cast away.”

Hazel was just staring to tune the whole thing out when Quintus paused the video again. “Can anyone tell me the Greek name for the Titan Saturn?” The girl next to Hazel raised her hand. “Yes, Miss. Grace?”

“Kronos,” she offered.

“Very good,” Quintus restarted the film. Hazel thought about leaning over and asking her if she was related to Jason, but figured she probably got that all the time.

A week later, Quintus stopped Hazel on her way out the door. “Miss. Levesque?”

She walked over to his desk. “What’s up?”

Quintus showed her the score from their history quiz the day before. A red 0/100 was written across the scantron.

“A zero?” Hazel tried to look genuinely upset. “A few more of those and you’ll probably have to kick me out of here, huh?”

“If a person wearing a blind fold took a true or false quiz at random, what score would they get?”

“Fifty percent?”

Quintus changed her 0 to a 100. “That’s right.” He stood and faced the bored to start erasing that day’s lecture notes. “Are you familiar with the story of Icarus, Miss. Levesque?”

“Uh yeah, he was escaping the Labyrinth with his father with a pair of bronze wings. But he flew too close to the sun, the wax melted, and he fell into the ocean. it’s about pride, right?”

“Correct,” he said, turning to face her, “but you left out a crucial element. Yes, Icarus was instructed by his father not to fly too high. But he was also told not too fly too low, as the sea mist could also weaken the wax.”

“Why are you telling me this?” She asked.

“You’re trying to quit, and I won’t let you. You must remember not to let yourself fly too low, it’s just as dangerous. I’m assigning you a personal essay. Not about history, but about yourself and the kind of person who you want to be.”

Hazel had spent an hour at her desk, trying to write anything for Quintus or for her literature essay, but her ADHD was going off the rails. She wished Leo would make good on his promise to bust her out of there.

But she decided not to wait for Leo.

She hadn’t seen her mom in a while. She grabbed her hoodie before making her way down the fire escape.

#will i finally complete a fic #most experts say no #hazel levesque #jason grace #leo valdez #sally jackson #chiron #hazel levesque into the prophecy verse #thalia grace

20 notes · View notes

lovemesomesurveys · 4 years

Text

Why did you last feel like crying? This past weekend I was just extra moody and on the verge of tears.

How long ago and why did you last feel infuriated? I get easily irritated and frustrated, but it’s been awhile since I’ve felt infuriated.

Do emotions control you or do you control your emotions? My emotions got control over me a few years ago and I haven’t been able to gain it back. :/

Do you keep your friends secrets/private information to yourself? Yes.

What negative quality do your friends bring up the most? I wouldn’t want friends who did that. I do that enough myself as it is, I don’t need anyone else pointing out all my negative qualities all the time.

What quality do you think you have that others don’t think you do? I don’t know. I feel like people in my life overestimate my abilities rather than the other way around. I feel a lot of pressure to maintain that illusion. <<< Same in regards to feeling like people overestimate my abilities. Although, in terms of the long list of negative qualities I believe I have, my loved ones would disagree on a lot of them.

Do you often “jump” to conclusions? Yeppp. Always the worst ones, too.

Do you find being alone with strangers scary, interesting or indifferent? It could be scary depending on the situation, but I’d definitely feel anxious and uncomfortable.

Do you think you know a lot about the world? There’s a lot more I don’t know.

Do you know first aid? No.

Does the sight of blood make you feel sick? Y Yes. It makes me feel weak. I can’t even look when having blood drawn and getting it done makes me sweaty and weak.

Does your first name have an L in it? Nope.

Middle name have a C in it? Nope.

Last name have a R in it? Yes.

Do your initials spell a legitimate word? If so, what? Nope. The word above, does it have any connection to you at all?

Do you prefer classic rock or nope alternative? Nope alternative?

Do you like Kings of Leon? Yeah. I loved when Sex on Fire first came out.

How about The Script? Yes.

Does crying make you feel better? Sometimes.

Do you know a girl called Becca? Nope.

How about a guy called Gregory? No.

Does someones background effect whether you’ll be friends with them or not Uh, well yeah. Like if they have a sketchy background or have done things I’m not comfortable with.

How about their religious background? I’d have a problem with a satanist or if they were involved in a cult.

If someone admitted cheating in a past relationship of theirs, would you trust them? That would likely make things complicated, but I guess it would depend on the situation. Although, you’re likely just getting their side of it and it may not be accurate or they’re leaving things out that paint them in a better light than their ex. It would just really, really depend on the situation and it’d take a lot of communication.

Do you drink tea and/or coffee every day? Coffee, yes.

Did you ever want to be a cook as a kid? No.

How about a fashion designer? No.

Do you wish that magic was real? I mean sure it’d be dope to make something you want appear or happen whenever you want. It could also be tricky, though, and used for the wrong reasons.

What food would you love to wipe off the face of the earth? I’m picky, so there’s a lot of foods I don’t like, but plenty of other people enjoy them so I’m not going to wipe it off the earth just cause I don’t like it.

Can you use a bottle opener? Yeah...

Do you own a cheese grater? Nope.

What time will it be in 38 minutes time? 4:26AM.

What day/date will it be in 11 days time? May 25th. Damn.

Have you ever owned a pet fish? Y Yep. I had a fish tank full of fish as a kid.

Do you prefer fire or ice? Fire in terms of bonfires and in a fireplace for the comfy, coziness of it and I love the smell of it during the fall. I don’t use ice in my drinks, so, not a big fan.

Do you rap along with rap songs? Ha, well my attempt to rap along.

When happy, do you become more talkative? Yeah.

Bowling or sailing? Why? Bowling I guess if I had to pick out of the two. Have no interest in either one, though.

What colour is your kettle? I don’t have one.

How about your microwave? Black.

Do you prefer sitting in the front or back of a car? Front.

How about in a train? On the bus? I’ve always had to sit in the middle on buses cause that’s where the wheelchair spots are.

Do you care about politics? I admit that I really haven’t been following closely these past few years. I used to pay more attention, but I just... can’t. It’s too much.

Obama or Bush?

Blair or Brown?

When did you last cook something from scratch? I don’t cook from scratch. The only cooking I do is packaged ramen.

What things make you jealous? Im rarely jealous. <<< Same. I feel envy more than jealousy.

Do you think the censors/fcc go a bit too far or are just right? I am confused as to why it’s okay certain curse words but not others. And I really don’t get why in “asshole” just the “hole” part is bleeped out lol. Do you feel hungry, thirsty, sleepy or none of the above? Right now I’m just sleepy.

What’s your Mum’s Mum called? How about your Dad’s Dad? Lupe/Charles.

Do you prefer crepes, pancakes or waffles? Waffles and crepes.

Do you have ice-cream in your fridge right now? I think we have some.

How about chicken nuggets? Not chicken nuggets, but my brother has a bag of chicken wings.

Do you eat fish often? Never. I hate seafood. <<<< Saaaame.

Have you ever taken a martial art? Which one{s}? Nope.

Do you know anyone who is scared of you? I can’t imagine anyone being afraid of me, a stick thin, super shy, and awkward af girl. haha.

What person who has died would you bring back and why? I wouldn’t mess around with bring people back from the dead. I believe I’ll see them again one day.

Do you like watermelon? Yeah. I couldn’t tell you the last time I had any, though.

Can you remember the month of your first kiss? October. I remember that because it happened at my high school drama department’s haunted house.

Do you make friends easily? No. I also don’t try to to be honest.

What makes you different from everyone else? DNA <<< Hahaha welp that most certainly does.

I give you a piece of paper. What do you draw/write on it? I’d do random doodles and write random words in cursive cause that’s what I do when I doodle.

What pictures or photos are up in your lounge? Is that like the living room? If so, we have a few framed photos on the shelves we have.

Do you like purple and white patterned things? Sure.

Do you know anyone called Pipa? No.

I say purple, you think… It’s my mom’s favorite color.

What do you think is the most interesting thing about you? Nothing.

Do you like being complimented or does it make you uncomfortable? They’re nice, I’m just super awkward.

Does the description of your starsign correspond with your personality? Nope. I’m so opposite of how a Leo is described.

Do you have a photo album? Yeah, several old photo albums (physical ones) and several on Facebook and my phone.

What artists paintings do you find the most beautiful? I don’t necessarily go for beauty in art. My favourite painters are Dali, Kandinsky, and Klimt. Weird over beauty for me. <<< That’s how I am. One of my favorites is The Scream by Edvard Munch. I like the melting clocks one by Dali, too.

What about the most disturbing? Hmm. There’s definitely paintings I’ve seen that I thought were disturbing, but of course I can’t think of a specific one at the moment.

Have you ever gone to a camp or summer school? I’ve been to two camps: science camp and Girl Scout camp. I also had to do summer school once in the 6th grade cause I missed a lot of school due to spending months in the hospital and at home after having surgery. I voluntarily took a few summer classes in college.

What was your favourite cartoon as a child? A lot of the stuff that was on Nickelodeon, Disney Channel, PBS, WB Kids, and Saturday morning cartoons on ABC.

What was your biggest fear as a child? Bugs.

Would you rather be able to fly or breathe underwater? Fly.

What about invisibility or mindreading? Invisibility.

Do you like what you see in the mirror? Nopeee.

Can you remember all your past teachers names? Not all of them, but a lot of them.

Do you like talent shows? Which ones? I enjoyed when we had talent show assemblies in elementary school. Those were fun.

Have you ever failed an important exam? In what? Yes, in math.

Do you find people taller than you intimidating? Just about everyone is taller than me.

Do you think you are better than people of a different country/background? Wow, absolutely not. I don’t think I’m better than anyone.

What’s your favourite thing about your country? We have our issues and I know other countries make fun of us, but we have a lot of good qualities and I like where I’m from.

Who is your favourite bzoinker? I don’t go on there.

What websites do you have bookmarked? The ones on the toolbar are Google, Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr, YouTube, Pinterest, and a couple PDFs from Bible studies.

Do you use bows and ribbons to decorate your gifts? Yeah. I love wrapping presents and making them look all nice and pretty.

Do you listen to the same type of music as your parents? What type is that? We like a lot of the same, yeah. Especially my mom and I.

What TV show scared you as a kid? Are You Afraid of the Dark haha but I also loved to watch it. That intro is what really got me. Oh, and Unsolved Mysteries. That was a show about real life mysteries and murders and such.

Family Guy, The Simpsons or South Park? Why? Out of the three I’d pick Family Guy, but I’m not into any of them. My family loves Family Guy so I see parts of episodes here and there all the time and I’m familiar with it. Sometimes it’ll give me a little chuckle.

#personal #text #survey #surveys

2 notes · View notes

sanderssidesfanfiction · 5 years

Text

We’ll Carry On - Chapter One

A/N: Well, it’s here, everyone! The moment you’ve all been (unwittingly) waiting for! Our entry for the @ts-storytime Big Bang! This took a lot of work, but we hope you’ll enjoy reading it as much as we enjoyed writing it! Each new chapter will be coming out every 20 minutes, provided the schedule works properly, to save your dashes! ^-^;; We have sixty four chapters plus an epilogue to upload save us!

We’ll Carry On Tag

General Content Warnings: Sympathetic Deceit Sanders, Substance Abuse, Abandonment, Minor Character Death, Transphobia, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Dissociation, Bullying, Homophobia

November 1st, 2017

“This will be your new home, Roman,” the man from Child Services said with a too-bright smile. Roman looked around. The walls weren’t rotting away, and the ceiling wasn’t falling apart, but something felt off about the place, like he wasn’t welcome. “Any last questions before you get settled in?”

Roman mutely shook his head. He was eleven years old, he knew when he needed to shut up, and he definitely needed to right now.

The man clapped him on the back and left, and Roman turned to the man and woman who he only knew as Mister and Misses Wright. Misses Wright’s smile dropped the second the man left. She directed him to the kitchen and shoved a mop in his hand. “You start cleaning,” she directed. “You can get unpacked when you’re done with your chores.”

December 20th, 2018

Roman shivered in the cold rain that had settled in to stay for a while. For hours, he had been searching for someone who could give him directions to the home he was looking for, someone who wouldn’t call the cops on an unattended child. The last thing he wanted was for his biological father to be in trouble for not supervising a kid he didn’t even know he had.

The sky was gloomy as Roman looked up, staring at the numbers hanging above the awning in front of the house. He looked back at the paper in his hand. Yes, this was the place. But what was he supposed to say? “Excuse me, Mister, you don’t know me but I’m your son and I could use a place to stay”? He didn’t want to impose.

And yet, here he was. Desperate enough to ask a stranger for help. At the very least, it had to beat the storm drain he had been sleeping in last night. He was fairly certain if he had to do that again he’d get rabies from a raccoon, or maybe a fox. And who knew how many rats lived in those things?

He had been staring at the house for too long. He turned away quickly, fully intending to leave. It was unlikely someone was home, anyway. It was the middle of the day, and though Roman couldn’t remember what day of the week it was, he knew it was more likely to be a weekday than a weekend. As he was walking away, though, he heard a door open and a man call out, “Excuse me?”

Heart soaring with hope, Roman turned around to find a man wearing thick-rimmed black glasses and a sweater vest run out of the house and to the fence. “Young man, are you lost? I couldn’t help but notice you were wandering around earlier. I might be able to help you.”

Roman cleared his throat and walked back over to the man, standing at the edge of his small yard. The townhouse behind the man was small, but looked inviting enough. This wasn’t a bad place for his father to live, provided this man even was his father. “Are you Mister Picani?” he asked, his voice trembling, betraying his worry.

The man blinked and adjusted his glasses. “Uh...yes. Who are you?”

Now or never, Roman supposed. “Uh...my name is Roman Jackson. I don’t know how to say this, but...uh...I think you’re my father.”

Mister Picani stood there in shock for a second, before pushing his glasses up his nose and frowning. “Where is your mother, then?”

Roman looked down at the ground and scuffed his shoe, trying to form the words that refused to leave his throat. His eyes stung, and he couldn’t get the proper explanation to come forward, so he forced out the next best thing. “She, uh...she abandoned me, sir. Couldn’t take care of me any more.”

“Oh, dear,” the man muttered. “Well, no use standing out here in the wind and rain. Why don’t you come inside? We can talk more over a cup of hot chocolate.”

Roman felt his hammering heart settle just a fraction. “Thank you, sir.”

“No need to call me sir, Roman. You’re free to call me Mister Picani, or Emile,” Mister Picani said, walking back towards the house.

Roman followed after him, walking in and looking around. The house was small, but filled with warm light. The walls were littered with cartoon posters and photographs. One of them which was hanging in the doorway, was of two men, both in tuxes, standing in front of who Roman assumed was a Justice of the Peace. “You’re married?” he asked, pointing to the photo.

“Yes, that’s my husband Remy,” Mister Picani said with a fond smile. “He’s the entrepreneur of his own coffee shop in the middle of town. Have you heard of Sleep Easy?”

Roman shook his head. “No, sir.”

“It’s a play on the term speakeasy. The joke is that his coffee is so good, it should be illegal. Not to mention he’s big on irony.” Mister Picani shook his head. “I love that man, and I’m so proud that he followed his dream and started his own coffee shop.”

Roman nodded as Mister Picani looked over to him. Inside, though, he felt guilt eat at him. This man had a whole entire life without him interfering. He didn’t want to cause trouble, but it seemed like that was exactly what he was doing.

The two walked into the modest but inviting kitchen and Mister Picani gestured for Roman to sit at the island in the middle. He brought out milk for the hot chocolate and asked, “Do you mind if I microwave it? I want to warm you up faster, though if you want me to bring the milk to the right temperature in a saucepan I can do that too.”

Roman shrugged. “You can do whatever you want, Mister Picani, I’m not picky.”

Mister Picani smiled softly and said, “I know you may not want to inconvenience me, but I really don’t mind putting in the extra effort if you would prefer it that way.”

Roman fiddled with his hands, feeling his heart ache at the reminder of what his mother used to do for him, back when she was around to care for him. She would take extra steps to ensure that he got what he wanted, too. “The microwave works, Mister Picani.”

He nodded and put the milk in a mug, and then proceeded to microwave it. “We’ll see if Remy ever forgives me for this,” he laughed. “He’s very particular about making many different drinks, and hot chocolate is one of them.”

Roman shifted on his chair, saying nothing. He didn’t know what to say. His heart kept thudding, and he kept waiting to hear that Mister Picani was going to call the police, or Child Services, or otherwise cart him off to someone else, who would inevitably send him back...back there. The place he swore he would never go back to.

“So, tell me a little about yourself, Roman,” Mister Picani said, pouring in hot chocolate mix to the milk and stirring it with a spoon.

Roman took the hot chocolate gratefully and let his fingers warm up from the mug. “Well...I’m twelve years old,” he said hesitantly. “I...I went to school for a while, until the sixth grade. Then...then everything kinda fell apart.”

Mister Picani winced. “You’re about the age to be in seventh grade. Did your mother not enroll you?”

Roman swallowed. “No. She...she wasn’t around to. I had to spend all my time...I don’t like to think about it.”

“You had to spend it getting by?” Mister Picani asked. “Making sure you got food, water, shelter?”

Roman nodded. That was close enough to the truth. No one ever bothered to put him in school. After all, someone had to take care of the younger kids. Considering that the people who were specifically assigned to do that were either too drunk or too angry to do anything useful. “But...but I remember a lot of what I did learn before, and I’m hoping to get back into school again sometime soon. Uh...my favorite color is red, if that’s important at all, and I really love fairy tales. Princes and princesses and castles and dragons. I know I might be a little old for that, but...”

“No such thing as too old,” Mister Picani said with a smile. “All those cartoon posters and paraphernalia you saw are mine. I wasn’t even aware I have a child or children until today.”

Roman relaxed a little bit at that. Before he was always mocked for liking fairy tales, but at least Mister Picani didn’t judge. “Cool.”

“Indeed,” Mister Picani said, grabbing another mug. “I hope we have another hot chocolate packet around here...”

The front door opened and a booming voice called, “Emile! Honey, you are not going to believe what Miss Fleming said today...” he trailed off as he caught sight of Roman.

Mister Picani looked like a deer in headlights for a quick second before recovering. “Remy, this is Roman. He’s...uh...well, he’s my son.”

Remy stood there for a moment, and Roman felt like he was being sized up. Then, he broke out in a wide grin. “I told you so, Emile! I told you that you’d be a catch for any lady at the sperm bank! Small wonder someone used it!” He held out his hand for Roman to shake. “Remy Picani. Husband of the dork over there. You can call me Remy.”

“Roman Jackson,” Roman said, shaking Remy’s hand.

Remy turned to Mister Picani-or, they were both Mister Picani, so...Emile?-and laughed. “Emile, please tell me you were not microwaving milk for hot chocolate again!”

“Well...the kid looked cold, and I wanted to warm him up fast, so...” Emile shrugged.

“All right, all right. I’ll give you a pass just this once,” Remy said with a grin. “So, uh...where’s the kid’s mom? Bathroom, or something?”

Roman felt a sharp pang in his chest and his breath caught. “His mom’s no longer in the picture, Remy,” Emile said. “I’m honestly not quite sure what to do.”

Remy hummed. “Well, that is a predicament. How about you two get situated in the living room and talk for a bit, watch cartoons, whatever. Emile, I’ll make sure that you get your hot chocolate, and I’ll make some calls. I’m pretty sure Sarah McGee’s a social worker who could lend us a hand figuring out what to do.”

Roman felt an icicle of fear stab him right in the chest. He didn’t get away from there just to be sent back! “You’re...what are you going to do?” he asked, his voice once again taking on that soft, trembling tone.

“Kid, if you’re okay with it, and Emile’s okay with it, we’ll be taking you in, at least for a little while. Until we can figure out what exactly is going on,” Remy said. “Because I don’t care why your mother is no longer around. Everyone deserves a home.”

Roman’s eyes grew hot and he smiled. “You really mean that?”

“Remy doesn’t say anything he doesn’t mean,” Emile said simply. “Come on, let’s go to the living room. We can see if there’s anything on TV you might want to watch.”

Roman nodded and followed Emile into the living room, getting settled on the couch with his hot chocolate. He curled up on it and took a long sip of the liquid, letting it warm him to the core.

“You know, you’re very lucky the weather is somewhat warmer outside than usual,” Emile said. “So close to Christmas, usually it’s dipping somewhere into the twenties, not in the low forties.”

“Cold is cold is cold,” Roman said, taking another sip. “I appreciate the hot chocolate.”

“I’m glad you like it,” Emile said with a smile, turning on the TV. “I have a couple cartoons saved on the DVR. Do you mind cartoons?”

“No, cartoons are great,” Roman said, taking another long sip of his hot chocolate.

Emile nodded with a smile, and pulled up Avatar: The Last Airbender to play, from the first episode. Roman was soon caught up in the show, finishing his hot chocolate quickly. He barely noticed when Emile patted his knee and got up. When the first episode ended, he put on another, figuring that Emile wouldn’t mind. By the end of the third episode, however, his fatigue was catching up to him, and he began drifting to sleep to the sound of the ending credits.

He fell into a dreamless sleep, hoping against hope that when he woke up again, that this wasn’t just some crazy dream he had thought up somewhere along the way that he had escaped.

Tag List (Only putting this on the first chapter to spare you guys the spam!): @loganpatton @lilbeanblr @kittyboof8 @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @sanders-trash-4ever @hamilspntrash @swords-and-kittens @phantomfander @narniasfinestavengingsociopath @rjmeta @ambersky0319 @anni-cat-flower @idosanderssidespromptssometimes @rose-gold-roman

#we'll carry on #sanders sides fanfiction #TS-Storytime 2019 Submission #roman sanders #emile picani #remy sanders #our creations #danger gays

44 notes · View notes

blahsome · 5 years

Photo

March 18 2020, yet another big milestone. 25 years. A quarter of a century. Is it a big deal or are numbers arbitrary and it’s the same amount of a deal as it ever has been? I can’t publish everything I’ve written down for this year without feeling guilty, but I also can’t step on no toes all the time. And now, I will also feel guilty posting this when there's a pandemic occurring, but, I am trapped at home with little to do other than edit and re-edit this writing to be suitable enough for the public. I started writing this on April 9, 2019, too early to start my 25th anniversary writing? I’ll guess not. So here it is, my yearly open letter to my mother with intermittent ramblings and poems about my experience moving though life as the person I am and my perceptions as a flawed but resilient female. It’s like if I put it out there, maybe I’ll somehow reach her and she will somehow let me know. Highs and lows, as usual. Just after 2 years off the sauce I had a bigger ‘aha moment’ than putting down any bottles, though one wouldn’t have happened without the other. I realized drinking wasn’t my real problem to begin with. It was people, and my desperate need for their acceptance and approval. My need to be recognized and valued instead of coddled and unconsciously kept in a box. My need to control the outcome of situations and stepping on toes in the process. After so long being alcohol free I came to see that I had to start living for me. In early June 2019 a dear friend turned me on to a book called CoDependent No More. In maybe a week’s time I absorbed every word, the narcissist in me was almost convinced that I’d written it myself, it resonated so deeply. The following week I started attending CoDA meetings. Now that so many of my grievances and ailments make sense, I only wish I’d known sooner that it was okay to live life with me as my number one priority. I didn’t know before that I didn’t have to feel responsible for other people’s actions or inactions, but my self worth had been dependent on it. I’m 95% sure my mother was CoDependent, and with that consideration, I’m able to understand her life choices better and therefore navigate my own with slightly better foresight. Wikipedia says “Codependency is a behavioral condition in a relationship where one person enables another person's addiction, poor mental health, immaturity, irresponsibility, or under-achievement. Among the core characteristics of codependency is an excessive reliance on other people for approval and a sense of identity.” Now, that’s just one definition. There are many charastics to pick and choose from, and let me tell you, us codependents (I can only speak for myself) can be picky and choosy. Some people define codependency as a disease because if it goes untreated it only gets worse. I’m trying to break a lifetime of habits. Hi, My name is Blossom and I’m CoDependent. Every Monday night I go to a meeting where a group of women gather and we all try to work on ourselves to let go of whatever unmanageable ailments are keeping us shackled. It’s humbling and it fills me with hope. It empowers me to continuously seek change and clarity. Codependency is a tough one to recover from, as you can’t quit people. Once I had a name for this problem, every love song sounded different and every frustration made sense. I became able to recognize crazy making and slow down and see that I didn’t have control and things had become unmanageable. In doing so, I was able to step back and make better decisions for myself and my life and that’s how this whole last year unfolded more in my favor than any year previous. I worked on detaching and I started living for myself. March is a hard month for me. I sometimes feel so undeserving of a skin to be settled in. I writhe around in my persistent and annual grief. I start getting anxious in February wondering how it will appear this year. This March is particularly hard. I moved into a house with strangers and rarely stay there. I’ve got no place of my own to grieve, and with COVID-19 amongst us, I don’t want to take up any more emotional space while the world is feeling its current devestations and fears. My hopes for 2019 were to have more highs than lows, make my amends and reconciliations, and to keep my head mostly above water. And that was mostly the case. My aunt told me shortly after my post last year that my mom had self imposed low self esteem (now I recognize this as codependency). Watching home videos of her I feel like I could see stress in her face and I think about what she wrote in her journal about worry making her face look funny and how she didn’t want anyone to feel as she did. Maybe because it was a different time she felt like she couldn’t talk about her anxieties and had to bottle them up. I’m thinking about all the time I’ve spent transfixed by being a motherless daughter and trying to figure out where I fit into the word. I’m thinking about how long I spent tending to my father's bent and dusty wings, thinking I’d needed to see one of my parents fly so that I could’ve learned how it’s done. I’m in some required college to career success class that’s making me question my path, as if stress wasn’t doing that already. I’m laying in bed wishing that I’d figured out sooner that my wings were fine regardless of anyone else’s. I wish you were here so I could tell you all about everything. And so you could do the same. And so we could share the load. I quit smoking finally. Now my only vice is other people’s problems and trying to fix them to no avail. The eternal heartbreak I mentioned in my last letter makes more sense now. And the boy who told me to turn off the lights on my birthday sent me a podcast that said something about only being able to be loved as much as you’re willing to be vulnerable. And I think we’re all scared to be completely honest about how shitty we are, so we just perpetuate the shittiness and stay closed and unloveable. Early August 2019- I’m off track as usual, probably malnourished, definitely exhausted. This morning I was crying, I thought I wouldn’t be able to pull it together and that my eyes would be red when I got to my first job of the day. I think I was mourning. Things are going to change so much. I won’t have any more free time. I have to restructure everything. Which I think is what I wanted, but what a learning curve. I still have desperate hopes of creating a camp for motherless daughters someday. And it has to be accessible to all. But lord knows how far off in the future it is. At this time my feet are seldom beneath me, I’m sprinting forwards and if I stop I will stumble. I have to figure out my shit first I guess, and I’m putting in the worrrk. Or trying to at least. At a CoDA meeting a woman was talking about learning how to wield her anger, a thought that made me tremble. I liked the sound of it, as I have so much, and if we could turn it into a power, a force for good...it’d be all over. But I’m stifled by it, embarrassed of it. When I cancel plans it's usually because I’m embarrassed about how angry I am over something out of my control, and I can’t come down. Everyone was relatable, everyone seemed to be making progress, even if at this time it looked like a breakdown. They told their stories and I cringed inwardly, thinking of what I would have done in their situation. The time for change is now, I’m shaking in my boots. Some poetry and prose: My broken heart painted my world red slandering your name ensuring I’m to be seen as a fool who sobs wolf My depressed history understands every bit of where you come from like we have the same veins My logical self tells me that’s your burden to bear but I do everything I can to fabricate your crutches and excuse your bad behavior - Codependent Cowgirl Uncharmable. You only want your ex cause you think that’s where you can be yourself, but really that’s where was born the version of yourself you hate the most. Here I am standing strong, aching for my newest weakness. You’re having none of it. If I unclench my jaw and take a deep breath Tears roll down my cheeks THIS is relaxing So I tense back up And jump back into my cortisol spiral There is too much to get done to spend even one second thinking about you Six Sundays have passed since I’ve seen you last Codependency writes all my prose and all my sonnets All my pros and wilted bluebonnets - Go hard or go home Or go hard and stay at home, for forever because you thought you and your home would be each other’s salvation because home was the only thing that ever willingly invited you to change it and was better for it. But home got too heavy and home wouldn’t change on its own. And all the changes you did accomplish didn’t prove your worth. Plagued by nostalgia and sentiment Chronic grief Frozen in grief, and just when I begin to thaw, the temperature drops again Perpetually stressed What if to lose a parent as a child, is to lose the present. Because then you are trapped dreading the uncertainty of the future and wondering about a past you never knew and will never know, theirs. - Fuckless nights I unwittingly dusted off my fiddle strings and played as best as I could but you were never pleased. I was always out of tune or just off beat. -- And so let us not demonize others for our perceived shadows they cast and have casted We can’t all be deciphering your eccentric and elaborate needs when you’re shouting CUNT at the tips of your fingers and claiming to empower women while you dig in your claws to another. Chicken soup wasn’t enough to cleanse your soul. -- I think about you every day Literally nothing happens And I’m reminded of you I wake up I think of you I want to punch a wall I till the dirt I think of you I go on a date I don’t like him I think of you I let myself get so fucked up over you My rose colored glasses are shattered but I’m still wearing them I can’t bring myself to say nothing but nothing I say gets through to you I was operating out of a place Of fear I felt threatened by any number of women I’d never met and will never meet. I saw a message on your phone It confirmed my suspicions You drunkenly tried to explain it away I wanted to believe you but I had already poured the concrete and I cart it with me everywhere Slowly I’m leaving little bits here and there Becoming lighter - This week I wrestled with my codependency, Manic and exhausted from my nervous system vibrating I spent countless hours elbows deep in the dirt trying to find the root of it all An unsolvable problem parallel with reality Hard work makes me stronger Even if I can’t kill all the weeds Progress over perfection What even is progress? fuck my life. I’m no fun at this time. The doors will rot in the yard, my gut tells me just like the others. It’s not even a metaphor, just a strong probability, and a waste. Oh my god the realizations just keep rolling in. For hoarders the drama triangle isn’t just for people, but objects too. The doors must’ve been playing victim, and he’s gone to rescue them. The only corner left for me is The Persecutor. - Back in the thick Texas air Drawn to tough love From best friends to boyfriends Can’t get enough of the push and pull I’m nothing like the others I’m so much more with so much less You make me nervous But I don’t have much to lose I want to roll over and kiss you on the mouth I want reciprocation I want you to push my face away Just to kiss me on the neck You always get me with a twist We are scared of each other Collective hurt Collectively hurt We are missing something and are unable to accept ourselves and each other as we are I don’t know how you can lie to me Or how I can stick around for it For all those times you smash it right I guess Second best to you kissing my neck Is when I’m out of sight but on your mind I don’t fit in to some plan you thought you had I break the mold I’m quiet and bold We are anxious, we are stepping on each other’s toes Bite your tongue For better or for worse Things stay the same But with time, and your tongue between your teeth Eggshells are everywhere, splintered into our feet Make it up as you go along Keep the gas on I’m filling the space between my eyes and my rose colored glasses with wool - Same as ever Tongue between my teeth Lighting up another 100 out of 10 You wonder if you know me But you don’t give yourself the opportunity I’m right behind you writing my words that my teeth won’t allow my tongue to speak Desperation is such a drain Self inflicted low self esteem A familial affliction Looking like a 10 Feeling like a dud That low self esteem has me trembling And today was a good day - With a bottle of booze as his gate keeper He’ll never let me in I’m flushed, way too in my head Thinking up scenarios to catch you with your hands red bloodied from tearing my heart out and probably hers, too. - When I first quit drinking I felt this temporary empowerment, like I always had my wits about me. I could do anything. And then my codependency cloud settled back in, my intuition slipped back out the window. Now it’s like I’m in the desert, with a paddle, which makes even less sense than being upstream without one. It takes so much energy for me to state my needs. I’ve lived much of my life being brushed off and I predict rejection of my needs and so I try to suppress them and be ok with things as they are, but I need more. When I’m cancelled on, or am not prioritized, I need to be provided with alternatives or I feel insignificant. Reminders of my stated needs feel like nagging. I need reassurance. It’s exhausting and disheartening. -It’s the little things like when I ask if you want to do something and you tell me what you’re doing instead, without offering any alternative. Or when you tell me nothing. And I have visceral feelings that to inquire is to overstep and overstepping leads to termination. When I’m doing better I don’t write as much. Pain is romanticized, joy is foreign to me and perceived as fleeting. I’m trying to flip that script. Going to CoDA helps me in this effort. It reminds me that there is space for me and it's ok for me to have needs and taking care of myself should be step one in all of my endeavors. It's ok to say no. I don’t owe anyone anything, and also no one owes me anything. I’m closer than ever before to becoming the butterfly out of the cocoon, though I'm still very far, and that's okay. Progress over perfection. Now wash your hands and stay safe. If not for you, then for your loved ones, or your friends friends loved ones.

1 note · View note