#my folks aren't stupid. i should have expected them to ask someone.

[brynnmclean]

I have feelings about this that feel so complicated that I can't even articulate them properly, but my younger siblings collectively outed me as non-binary to my parents ages ago and no one told me outright. Thank GOD I have a therapy call tomorrow, huh.

[g0nta-g0kuhara]

Gonta Character Thoughts

Someone asked me earlier today for some Gonta writing tips, and while I don't know fully how useful this wall of text is for that, it let me talk about Gonta as a character and about his motivations that I think some folks might appreciate either as people who like him or people who want to understand better why I'm so insane about him. It was also really fun to pull together my thoughts on him so I wanted to share!!

The main thing for me is that Gonta is pretty confident with himself when it comes to any situation that requires physical might. When it comes to lifting heavy things or fighting for his friends, Gonta is at ease and doesn't need to hesitate to consider if he Can do the thing. On the other hand, where he's a bit more nervous or hesitant is social situations. He's unfamiliar with and misses a lot of social cues and ends up stumbling and hesitant in situations he's never been in before (like class trials at the beginning of v3). In these situations he might look to follow someone's lead or even directly ask for help.

On the topic of familiarity, Gonta is also very well versed in knowledge related to bugs and survival, as well as nature, especially in the forest where he grew up. He is not very familiar with a lot of things other characters would take for granted as common knowledge (like computers, if its relevant at all he probably doesn't know much kanji). Gonta isn't Dumb but he is missing a cultural baseline for a lot of references and info that makes him struggle where other characters will have no issues.

Gonta's convinced that he's stupid because he lacks this baseline, and because of the reinforcement and teasing by those around him. He has pretty severe self-esteem problems, and he's convinced that all he's good for is his physical strength, as that's all people seem to value him for anyways. This led to a pretty bad complex during the killing game where he blamed himself for every single death ("if gonta could have just protected them this would have never happened. its all gonta's fault") which only got worse and worse. He's desperate to help out and be useful to the group so will go along with a lot if he thinks there's a chance he will be able to help. This is a major driving force for his character, especially in chapter 4.

Gonta is probably good with fine detail work (as he has to be to work with and mount bugs) but also will forget his strength if he gets excited or otherwise forgets himself. Very polite things like holding the door open for someone or offering to take someone's hand to help them down the stairs, or other things like that that aren't necessarily expected in every day life but definitely are of a stereotypical gentleman, Gonta will do whenever he can, but it's a very intentional thing. He might hesitate, remember he should be doing that, then go for it, which can end up a bit awkward. Gonta is very kindhearted by nature, so that will often come through even if he is a bit awkward about being gentleman-level polite. He's trying his best though.

Gonta is also very openly expressive. He can't hide or suppress his emotions very well most of the time, which means he emotes A Lot. He cries more easily than the other boys in v3, or really any of the characters in the v3 cast, and definitely cries more loudly and openly. But on the other hand, when he's happy, he glows.

The one emotion he tries his best to control is anger. A lot of Gonta's social isolation before he got lost (and even after tbh) came from the fact that he was bigger than the other kids and his neutral expression can be a bit intense/scary. He's not hotheaded in the way Kaito might be, but he's very careful with his words and himself when he's upset in this way.

Gonta will also make that intense expression where he grits his teeth and Looks angry when he's stressed or hurt. This can freak out his classmates to the point that he accidentally pushes them away when he needs their reassurance the most. (see: when you talk to gonta during the ch4 investigation, when he's freaking out about not being able to remember what happened and feeling useless, he makes this expression and Kaito gets scared.)

I need to stress though that Gonta is NOT aggressive. Almost every time in game where he considers physical violence as an option, he thinks through it carefully before acting (Defending Kaede before her execution, challenging Monokuma in ch4 before being talked down). A notable exception to this might be kidnapping people for the insect meet and greet, but that was less aggression and more Gonta being in a heightened state of emotion (convinced that everyone hates bugs, which upset him) so forgetting his strength.

Also, it's important to note that Gonta IS sometimes able to hide his emotions and tell lies, but it has to be very intentional and planned ahead of time. He can't suppress his tears at the loss of a classmate, and he can't lie easily (See trial 1 and 2 where Gonta very simply says that yeah he totally could have thrown the shotput ball or tossed ryoma into the tank /physically/, even though admitting this puts a target on his back). However, he was able to hide the truth of the outside world and the fact that he was likely experiencing some really intense emotions at the time from his friends as he and Kokichi executed their plan. Of course, the fact that they were virtual world avatars helps, but its not everything. I think he just has to plan to lie or prepare himself to put on a front in advance.

I know this is super long so just one last thing: Gonta will take a Lot of verbal abuse and teasing if it goes along with his already poor self image. Other characters will call him an idiot and he doesn't even bat an eye because he's convinced of the fact himself. That's why when Kiibo played back the audio recording of Kokichi during the Insect Meet n Greet the part that upset Gonta the most wasn't Kokichi calling him "simple-minded," but instead Kokichi saying that he didn't actually like bugs. He will stand up for himself (carefully, as he always acts when he's angry-upset) if other lines are crossed, though. Like in Ch2 when Kokichi says if Gonta keeps falling for his lies he will end up a victim of the killing game, to which Gonta says something like "Don't say that Kokichi, not even as joke."

I have more I could get into but that teeters more into personal headcanon territory on his friendships and backstory, so I'll hold off. but MAN I love Gonta and I love how genuinely deep his character goes. Its a shame so few people really get into his character beyond "sunshiney bug "himbo" ", there's a lot here that's fun to play with.

[iamyelling]

saw a post on linkedin about resume tips for people who aren't having any luck. fairly common list of things that "the experts" say, including "you should change your resume for every job you apply to, customize it for the position". made me very mad! started writing a comment then kinda went off the rails so i decided NOT to post it but imma post my rant here ha ha

Many of these points are helpful, but one thing that I see recommended to stressed out, broke job-searchers (usually unemployed folks just trying desperately to make ends meet), is to tailor the resume for each job. Now, a cover letter I can understand, and I agree that it’s super important to write a custom cover letter that makes the company feel special and calls out the applicant’s unique fit for the role. But telling folks to make a new resume for every job we apply to is so out of touch. Maybe you’re thinking, oh, how many different types of jobs are out there? How difficult can it be? Just read the job description closely, research the organization, take a couple minutes to practice your breathing exercises because they’re asking for someone to do what really should be three people’s work for what is not even considered a living wage in most cities and you still can’t even get a job and the search feels endless and hopeless and you’re having an existential crisis, then connect which parts of the job description you want to highlight in your application, then figure out which parts of your meticulously crafted resume you need to take out to make it fit and not be really long, and so on.

Well, as someone who’s been on the hunt for almost as much time as I’ve spent employed (three layoffs at inopportune times), I can tell you that every position (based on the job description) is a little different. There aren’t like, a handful of archetypes I can make a handful of resume versions for. The amount of consideration and time that goes into a resume PLUS a cover letter makes this advice unrealistic. We are out here applying to literally hundreds of jobs. We are qualified and could totally do all of them! The truth is, the folks hiring have hundreds of applicants and can be extremely selective, rejecting people for even the slightest thing. The truth is it’s out of our control, as applicants. All I can do is find positions that I’m qualified for, and put in a reasonable amount of time and effort in. Every job I apply to, I have probably less than a 1 in 500 chance at, often 1 in 1,000. Maybe folks in hiring should be asking themselves questions like, is this really a helpful indicator for the applicant’s fit for the role, or are we making irrelevant hoops for people to jump through? Are these hoops creating barriers for qualified candidates? Is this elimination process discriminatory and further replicating marginalization for already marginalized people? Have you considered that applicants are doing enough already, and blaming us for our struggles is incredibly out of touch and cruel?

is my resume perfect? no. is my cover letter perfect? no. my portfolio? not perfect! but are these JOBS perfect?? are they hiring me for perfection? are they offering perfection pay? are the companies even REMOTELY even just competent??? why do they expect such perfection from applicants who have to do hundreds of applications. they’re not special. i’m not special. i just want enough money to survive PLEASE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

my dad is infuriating. he keeps fucking defending ai. these fucking tech-pilled ai fans are cheese for brains. and he is all “well actually ouycmigjiyfjitvnkghitxbju , i am very smart” 😌 i’m like SHUT UPPPPP!

just realize that it’s stupid and ugly and disrespectful and hopped up on its own fumes. ohhh i was able to eliminate business costs through utilizing ai capabilities (aka - i laid off a bunch of people hon hon !! profit!!) i am very smart. i’m a rich white guy, when i put less or no labor and time and thought and care in, it shows i’m SMART! i’m OPTIMIZING! and EFFICIENT! I’m an inventor, innovating, an engineer, a scientist!!! when everyone else does it, it shows they’re LAZY and STUPID and not HARDWORKING!!! I’ve never tried at something for a long time and gotten nothing out of it so.. if YOURE having that happen its probably because youre stupid and doing it the wrong way… youre probably bad at things too and not even that good at your job anyway. AAAAAHHHHH!!!!!!

EVERY time i say something he has this obnoxious “well actually these people are dumb and stupid and wrong soooo” and it makes me so ANGRY! it’s so OBNOXIOUS he just doesn’t care he takes it all so personally

[valkyrieandstrangeridingaragorn]

What's really annoying to me about Loki portrayal of gender fluidity isn't just that they got it so wrong it's how little they care that they got it wrong. If I can use a really controversial example Bigmouth got a lot of flake when they introduced pansexual characters and said pansexuals were attracted to gender none conforming folk while bi sexuals were not. What did they do when people called them out on this? Admitted they got it wrong and promised to do try harder in the future.

When people asked Herron why the other Lokis laughed at the idea of a lady Loki she basically shrugged and said idontno and then went on to say Sylvie story wasn't about gender fluidity. They care so little they don't even realize they made a mistake. Sometimes people from the most well intentioned places can make a mistake that's why you should give people a chance. But when someone doesn't even admit that they've messed up is when you know things aren't going to get any better.

Absolutely, I don't think they realize how messed up this is and the worst part is I doubt they care.

It comes to show that they're just fishing for woke points, it blows my mind that they have the audacity to add one line in a damn document then expect the world's media and the fans to thank them for their representation... but of course that doesn't happen so they backtrack then claim it was never about the characters being genderfluid and it's all "open to interpretation".

It doesn't take a rocket scientist to know that one line in a document is not enough, they know is not enough, they always did and they didn't care. But since people are so desperate for any kind of representation they try to silence anyone criticizing it because at least now they have something... instead of realizing we have to demand more and better.

And what makes it worse is that Herron, Waldron and the others actively refuse to listen to any criticism of their work and that reflects pretty badly on them as content creators. They don't need to put up with the insults and the name-calling but they should be listening to the criticism instead of playing the victim and acting like anyone who didn't like the series is no more than a stupid fangirl who's mad because Loki kissed a woman.

We need better writers and in order to get that we need mature and adult people humble enough to take criticism and with a little more life experience other than highly privileged because it shows in their work how little of life these people have lived.

[nothorses]

if you want to delete this ask it's totally fine. this is kind of a disjointed vent, but i had nowhere else to go.

yesterday i had a conversation in a server that's mostly full of cis women, and it's been a real eye opener about how i should probably not try to look for meaningful conversations on trans topics in spaces dominated by cis people. i mean, it should have been obvious from the start and i feel really stupid for not realising this sooner, but i'm glad that i finally did.

i started the conversation by ranting about why i strongly dislike certain tropes in (specifically mlm) fiction that fetishize trans men (abo, mpreg, stuff like that), essentially taking the "desirable" parts of their bodies and putting them onto cis men. i'm not sure why exactly i started the conversation there, maybe a mix of wanting to bring awareness to people that might not know and feeling more comfortable in that server (since i have some relatively close friends there).

i honestly should've expected this, but everyone else started completley ignoring my point and talking about how mlm fiction like bl and yaoi affected them as cis wlw, which made me eventually abandon the conversation alltogether until another gay transmasc showed up.

i should've known better. i was in the minority there, and it wasnt their fault that they wanted to talk about their experiences. during the conversation i felt like i was almost completley talked over, but now (about a day later) i realised that i was setting myself up for this reaction when i chose to start the conversation where i did.

being surrounded by cis women all my life, it has been really hard for me to leave those spaces and find others that would help me more. i guess the conversation helped me realise that these spaces aren't helping me at all in this regard.

I don’t think it’s “your fault” that when you tried to speak to your experiences with marginalization as a marginalized person, others decided to co-opt the conversation to talk about their own, and honestly far less relevant feelings about the topic. You weren’t “asking for it”, you didn’t invite a hurtful response, and it’s okay to feel hurt and upset even if you did.

Cis women already dominate the conversation around mlm media, and that in and of itself is a problem. You were talking about the subject as someone who is a part of the community, and who is often marginalized within that community. They certainly don’t have a right to trample you, and your voice deserves to be heard. There’s nothing wrong with cis women having thoughts & feelings on the subject of mlm media, and they deserve space to speak to that as well- but not at your expense. Not at the expense of actual mlm.

You’re definitely right, though, that sometimes spaces dominated by cis folks just aren’t going to be conducive to the kinds of conversations trans folks need to have.

And it is really hard- a lot of us find acceptance first in spaces for women, especially queer women, and that center feminism and feminism-influenced queer theory more than anything else. When that’s what’s influenced your priorities, your values, and your social circles, it’s tough to realize that your acceptance is now seen as being irrelevant to, or even at odds with those same things.

I’m glad you’re realizing that you have different needs now, and making an effort to meet them. You deserve to be heard, to have your voice valued, and to be supported by the people around you. I hope you can find some spaces that provide that for you.

(Also, you never have to apologize to me or excuse me from answering asks! I do delete things if I don’t want to answer them; you’re not pressuring me or being entitled by... using a feature I have chosen to make available to you.)

[miqojak]

Layers Upon Layers

one: outside layer

[Name:] "Jak." [Hair Style & colour:] "Black and orange. I wear it pulled back and braided." [Eye Color:] "Gold and jade green." [Height:]  "Fuck if I know exactly. Under five fulms." (4'9") [Style:] "Depends on the day. Maybe the hour. Leather and mini-skirts are always a good bet, though. Sometimes a nice suit, sometimes my bike gear, sometimes a little something more form-fitting, elegant and gilded - 'desert chic', I suppose." [Best Physical Feature:] "Definitely my ass...though my legs cut it close, on that one. What do you think?"

two: inner layer

[Fears:] "You ask that and actually expect people to tell you?" (Small/enclosed spaces with no readily available exit, levin, Garleans, people getting too close to her/seeing who she really is) [Guilty Pleasure:] "People feel guilty for what they like? Who's going to judge me, the sheep who can't come up with a single original thought of their own, and feel guilty if they do?" [Biggest Pet Peeve:]  "Biggest...that's tough, actually. Probably blithe optimism, or naivete. People too ignorant, or unwilling to ask questions and look deeper - or those simply unwilling to face hard truths. There can never be any growth if you aren't honest with yourself, after all. Unmotivated slackers. If you have no goals, why are you wasting this star's air?" [Ambition for the Future:] "To be feared and respected in equal measure. I've been pushed around for a long time, and now it's my turn."

three: thoughts

[First Thought When Waking Up:] "Probably...my to-do list for the day? That or wondering what the weather is like, and whether or not I'll be going on my usual morning run or be stuck working out indoors. That or 'Huh, they haven't killed us all yet.'" [What You Think About the Most:] "What my next step is in life - how I want to pursue that power I'm after without compromising who I am...and how the fuck I ended up with someone who actually cares about me in my life while distinctly trying to avoid that type of thing...and why he stuck around. I wonder about the 'why' a lot." [What You Think About Before Bed:] "Depends on the day, and what's happened, and if I'm headed there alone. If I'm not alone, it's probably something to the effect of 'I still can't believe he wants to be here/wants me to be here'. And whether or not I'm alone...there's always the nagging, ugly reminder that Garlemald's towers sit hunched in the sky, ready to end everything for everyone - predator and prey alike. It could be the last night for any of us." [Your Best Quality Is:] "My ass. But other than that...well, I'm honest, and my loyalty can't be bought. I'm not a good person, but I have my own...'code', in a sense, I guess."

four: what’s better

[Single or Group Dates?] "Group dates sound like a punishment. I can barely stand the slack-jawed idiots around me as it is. Though undoubtedly the punishment would be upon the others, considering who my date would be, and the fact that we'd probably spend the time verbally destroying the other couple." [To be Loved or to be Respected?] "Respected. Love without respect is horrifying. I've been there, I've suffered it, and I'm still recovering. But I still...don't know that I believe in love. At least not how most people do, I guess. Love makes people do stupid shit when they believe in it. Respect doesn't. Respect can stand alone, without needing love. Respect has to be earned. There's no claims of 'respect at first sight.' But like I said...love without respect is...ugly. Scary, even." [Beauty or Brains?] "Both, or no deal. Brains are essential, but I can't have a walking pile of dogshit on my arm, now can I?" [Cats or Dogs?] "Neither, I don't do pets - animals are food. But...I suppose I'd say dogs, though you'd probably incorrectly assume cats, based on the fact that I resemble one. But...there's been more 'canines' in my life in the last year or two than I care to recall."

four: do you…

[Lie?] "No. Not unless the situation is dire - my morals don't matter if my life is on the line. Survival comes first always." [Believe in Yourself?] "Much more than I used to. I've accomplished, and survived, more than most could even begin to imagine." [Believe in Love?]  "Not...really? Maybe? Though I'll admit that for all my vehement denial in the past, someone has made me re-examine my emotions in the last half a year or so. I don't think I believe in the sort of 'love' that the general public believes in. I had someone force his fairy tale romance down my throat and do me a lot of harm both physical and mental with those ideals, as he forced me to be someone I wasn't. If adhering to what society expects of love is all that someone cares about - hitting the expected gestures as told in fairy tales? That's about as real as a fever dream. I don't like the word 'love'. Not what it's come to be associated with, and what's expected of you along with it." [Want Someone?] "For the first time in my life...yes. Not that I don't 'have' him as much as I can claim such, but when he's not around, I find that I want him to be. So...yes?"

six: have you ever…

[Been on Stage?] "No? I mean, my organization does run a jazz club, and it's been various theaters before that, and I've...sat on the stage, basked in the spotlight of an empty theater? I prefer to be...less in the actual spotlight, however." [Done Drugs?] "I've only been clean and sober for...maybe a year now? So yeah. I've...done a lot of drugs." [Changed Yourself to Fit In Somewhere?] "I've been a con-artist to put food on the table, but I don't believe in changing who you are to 'fit in.' If you don't fit in...you don't fit in. You are who you are. Being anything else is a lie, and does you a disservice. It's also a pathetic cry for attention - for the other bleating sheep to accept you into their herd. I won't debase myself to 'fit in' with my lessers."

seven: favorite

[Favorite Color:] "Black, white, gold, and red. I don't have just one." [Favorite Food:] "Once more, I don't have just one. I like red meat, I like seafood, and I enjoy rolanberries quite a bit. Of late, I think my current favorite snack is takoyaki though - this fried dough ball with octopus inside...just thinking about it makes my mouth water." [Favorite Game:] "Breaking and entering."

eight: age

[When Your Next Birthday Will Be:] "No idea." [How Old Will You Be?] "No clue. I'm...twenty and four summers, roughly...give or take a couple." [Age You Lost Your Virginity:] "Care to lose yours to one of my knives, here?" [Does Age Matter?]  "Should it? I suppose I'd be a bit baffled to see an old geezer with a hot young thing, but even so...who cares? I haven't exactly had a lot of lovers, but I don't think I ever asked any of them their age. So long as people stay the fuck away from kids, it's a non-issue in my opinion."

nine: in a partner

[Best Personality:] "An unflinching realist who not only faces the truth, but deals it out themselves. Ambition, and the ability to be honest with themselves about who they are." [Best Eye Colour:]  "Who gives a shit? If I find them worthwhile, I'll like their eyes, I assure you." [Best Hair Colour:] "Who's out here checking people off a list because their hair is the wrong color? I mean, after some shit I went through, I might not want to ever see another red-head again, but realistically...who gives a single fuck? I think you're asking the wrong questions here. People often do - too busy dwelling on lust at first sight." [Best Thing to do With a Partner:] "Murder? Crime in general? ...Or a hot bath."

ten: finish the sentence

[I Love…] ...I just told you I don't do love. But...I do love the sun." [I Feel…] everything at once, or nothing at all, it seems." [I Hide…] who I am." [I Miss…] my family." [I Wish…] ...wishes are for simpletons. Actions achieve what you want." Thanks for the tag: @eligos-venator @placesyoucallhome @bek-sc @sundered-souls (I think I found you all who tagged me!)

I am late to this party! Tag yourselves if you want to do it, so I can read your stuff! I feel like most folks have done it, and I'm too brain-dead atm to root around in the bowels of Tumblr to see who hasn't, since I'm many days late! XD

[punkscowardschampions]

Lux & Amber

Lux: Hey, Amber, I was wondering if I could talk to you, when you've got the time to 💬 back and forth for a bit 😌 Amber: Hi Amber: this'll work... Amber: are you okay? Lux: Yes in the sense this isn't a total emergency Lux: but no in the sense I'm not bothering you for no reason Lux: I don't know how to start this Amber: total emergencies are what my mama's for anyway, but I'll still try to help, if I can Lux: Yeah Lux: not that I'll be having that kind of emergency ever Lux: well, it was his idea Lux: and I don't know whether he expected me to follow up on it or not but I'm going to Lux: so maybe I don't feel as insane Lux: it's about Dash Amber: Oh Amber: we're not together if that's what's worrying you, it was just once Amber: and it won't be happening again Lux: I knew you weren't Lux: maybe knew is an overstatement, thought, anyway Lux: what do you think of him? Amber: you did, because he doesn't do 'together' and we all know that Amber: what did he do to make you feel insane? Amber: I think it's probably similar to the way he made me feel stupid, but I'm ready to be wrong Lux: How did he make you feel stupid? Amber: I thought we were friends, we're not Amber: and I thought that maybe he was just a little lost, but he knows exactly what he's looking for Lux: Yeah Lux: I think it might be the same Lux: he said one thing at the time Lux: but then today he said something that made that all so Lux: gross Amber: because he wanted something different from you today from wanting to have sex with you Lux: he said it was part of the tour Lux: which in itself...but then he said he only did it to 'tourists' Amber: I've been here for months, how am I a tourist? Lux: I know! Amber: my family lives and works here and he goes to school with me, I see him every day for like hours, on the commune and outside of it Lux: I wanted him to admit that it was a lie, that this was like family, because that isn't what you do to family, even if it's totally chill or whatever, you still don't view all these girls as your sisters, like you clearly do the boys as your bros Lux: but he couldn't do that, 'cos if this is all bullshit then what is he doing Lux: but then that amounted to him essentially saying he did it to the most fucked up, vulnerable girls, who he knew would go away before it became an issue for him...and that's me, so, everything else he said is untrue and manipulative and Amber: I don't think he understands family for what it's worth, whether he really believes this is one or he's hiding behind that Amber: but if that's his perspective, I understand now why he seemed to immediately regret sleeping with me, because it's unlikely I'm leaving any time soon Amber: even if my 'vulnerability' did jump out Lux: you've at least confirmed I'm not hysterical Lux: he said I should ask you, that it's cool Amber: I'm sorry he hurt and used you like that, I didn't realise I'd have to start warning every girl here Amber: or that he was THAT person Amber: yes, he lied to me and stole from me but he's not the first hippie boy I've met who tried to do some kind of free love revival Lux: he said he wasn't scared of me 'telling' on him to these girls because everyone else is into it too Lux: but he asked me not to multiple times so clearly he doesn't think everyone would still be down if it was total transparency Amber: plenty of people here are into it and whatever you say or don't say, there'll be girls who are still into him Amber: I fell for it after everything I'd seen and heard because he made me want to, I was still willing to give him another chance afterwards Amber: pretty face and prettier words, right? Lux: I'm just sick of dealing with people who are shitty Lux: just because they're not as shitty to me as everyone else Amber: there are people here who would listen, I hope, hold him accountable instead of falling into the forgiveness and understanding speech immediately Amber: my mama, for one, if it came from you instead of me Lux: there's people here who don't like me too Lux: more than that Amber: Who? Lux: I'm not trying to turn this into a big tattle-tale party Lux: I tried to tell him but he wasn't listening Amber: you can tell me, I'll keep my temper and listen Amber: nobody wants to listen to teenage girls and I'm not feeding into that lie that we're all hysterical, even though I am angry Lux: some of the older ladies Lux: they don't think I am a teenage girl Lux: that I've co-opted the experience of being a woman for the aesthetic, without ever having to face the adversity and struggles they do, as biological women Amber: I don't have the vocabulary to express how disgustingly narrow and dangerous that thinking is Lux: it's interesting to hear it from a perspective other than religion, I guess Lux: but still Lux: he thinks it's perfect here, and everyone is Amber: and his brother thinks it's hell on earth Lux: you know his brother? Amber: I met him and my 'aesthetic' jumped out for him Amber: he decided who I am because I live here Lux: I almost thought he'd made him up Lux: in a weird way Lux: I don't know how you get Dash and then him, from what he sounds like, anyway Amber: their experiences are actually entirely different Amber: Dash has opted out of any of the struggles, by being here, so it is perfect for him in that way, I guess Amber: like a utopia Amber: it's no wonder his brother thinks none of us live in the real world Lux: He doesn't 'do' responsibility, he said that Lux: responsibility to be an alright person really is the minimum Amber: plenty of people here obviously don't either Amber: those woman you mentioned don't even understand their own privilege, they just want to tell you yours Lux: don't get me wrong Lux: here is fine Lux: and lots of the people are nice and whatever Lux: but whenever I talk about my family it's like this smugness of how backwards they are when I've got the same treatment from plenty of non-religious folks for no reason but disagreeing Lux: my parents think they're saving me from eternal damnation, because they love me, that's not nothing Amber: like the thinking that anything about living this way makes us superior isn't backward Amber: they're pretending to be free and open is the key to the kingdom and the only way anyone gets to be here Amber: but it's not Lux: I just need somewhere I'm safe Lux: so I can actually sort out what I'm doing with the rest of my life Amber: I know what you mean Amber: I feel like I'm always asking for time to figure things out but it doesn't happen like that Lux: Sorry to put more strain on your time right now Lux: it just Lux: ugh Amber: honestly, it's a relief that there's someone else who feels the same about this place Amber: I can't talk to my parents about it, they love it here Lux: You can talk to me about it any time Lux: even if I am your dad's teacher's pet right now Lux: I just get really bored of the manual labour here, I don't mind chipping in, obviously, but being stuck here all day every day, I want to be using my 🧠 Amber: he talks about you A LOT and I am jealous but I'm not holding it against you personally Amber: if only you could take my place in school... Amber: but for now, do you want to come with me? Somewhere where everything is concrete and plastic? Lux: Dash would be so upset we're not talking about him right there Lux: sounds like heaven Amber: does he 'do' upset? 🙄 Lux: I'm trying not to care right now Amber: we're caring about 🛍💅 like teenage girls with like ZERO struggles Amber: I full intend to buy the most uncomfortable and impractical bra ever and wear it everywhere those women are Lux: 😆 Lux: as long as I can find some falsies to fill mine Amber: I probably should too, there's not much going on here Amber: and when you're in a better headspace, I'll introduce you to my friends from school Amber: I think it'll help Lux: really? 😀 😃 Amber: Yes, some of them are so 'normal' it makes me feel 👽 Amber: but in a good way Lux: I could use that Amber: the conversations hit different because they are Lux: I liked talking to him Lux: 'til he messed it all up Amber: not to be ✌☮🕊 but do you want to give him another chance? Lux: I really don't know what I think or what I'm going to do yet Lux: I've got no desire to hate anyone or be petty Lux: but he isn't sorry so Lux: I'm just a pushover and an idiot if I give him another chance Amber: caring is important but you need to care about yourself too, especially if he isn't sorry Lux: I just hope he can make some better choices Lux: but unlikely Lux: he's happy with how it is right now Amber: treating girls right instead of passing them around like 🚬🌿 isn't growth he's ready for Amber: yet Lux: its hard to know what I should say Lux: if anything Lux: to these other girls he was openly being nasty abouy Amber: his honesty was brutal, why soften the truth if it only protects him? Amber: you can always show them the relevant parts of the conversation if you kept it Lux: I'd feel like crap if other people got hurt needlessly when I knew Lux: but I'm hardly endearing myself to them if they don't see it how I do and they just think I'm trying to like, claim him or whatever nonsense Amber: I can do it, he's already made all those jokes about me being 💔 Amber: and I've been here long enough for everyone to know who I am Lux: 🙄😒 Lux: why are guys like that Lux: they say they wanna chill with down girls but then their ego makes them wanna believe you're actually in LOVE with them Amber: I wish I knew, and that I didn't have sex with him Amber: but he probably would have said I did anyway, I guess Lux: He's the second person I've ever Amber: well now I'm really 😠 Amber: my dad'll be upset about it but if I see him around I will hit him Lux: I mean, I'm straight Lux: so I was gay Amber: that's adversity if those judgemental woman would like to get into it, liking boys is the biggest struggle Amber: they really don't make it easy for us Lux: Are there any boys you like that aren't him Amber: I need to make better decisions, so that means saying no to that question Lux: Gotcha Amber: but it's a lie and I'm not lying to you today too Amber: just so you know Lux: I appreciate it Lux: probably got enough frivolous boy chat for the both of us though, so you can try to be better Amber: he did say he likes me, I do have that in writing, but what have we learned today if not to trust stuff like that Lux: is he from school? Lux: not all guys can be total assholes, right Lux: that sounds like something those old ladies would say Amber: he's a good person but he insists he's bad for me, I have to listen to that, don't I? Lux: depends why he thinks that, I suppose Lux: it could be an insecurity thing Lux: or a genuine warning Amber: he thinks it's genuine, and I know why he does, we are very different Lux: good different like your school friends Lux: or the bad kind Amber: I don't know Lux: Tricky Amber: it's another thing I need more time to figure out Lux: You'll have it Lux: boys wait for girls like you Amber: girls like me? Lux: Beautiful Amber: that's girls like US Lux: 😌😚 Amber: beautiful and weird and getting out of here for a while even if boys are waiting for us Lux: heck yeah! Lux: he's waiting on Cleopatra though, currently Amber: who? Amber: is she new here? Lux: oh, that's not her real name Lux: umm Lux: another 💎 Amber: he's not waiting for me Lux: Sapphire! Amber: of course Lux: I don't know her Amber: she got here a few weeks ago, her brother Onyx tends to speak for her more than she does for herself Lux: don't love that Lux: was picturing Liz Taylor Lux: wouldn't need to worry about her Amber: did he say she looks like Elizabeth Taylor? Lux: just Cleo Lux: well, 'vibe' which can mean everything and nothing, I really don't know Amber: I don't 👀 it Lux: like you said, if anything his words are pretty Lux: which is nice, in a fucked up kinda way Amber: I don't think I'll try and remember how he described my 'vibe' though Lux: just let me know if he's doubling up on 👼s Amber: there are less 👼🏽 it would be creative Amber: but no Lux: not going to keep a list for him so he can keep track or anything Amber: if he keeps one himself I didn't find it when I searched his room Lux: wait, WHAT??!? Amber: he stole my stash, I didn't want my dad to get upset with me so I went to his house to see if I could get it back Amber: that's how I met his brother Amber: I didn't find it, if he smoked with you, that was on me Lux: asshole Lux: I need to find something cute to wear at the shops Lux: it's the most teen girl response possible Amber: [tells her where she can find all the best clothes because it'd be such a free for all cos nobody has proper rooms or storage like] Lux: 🤞 having my ankles on display is a CHOICE LEWK Lux: ['cos how many of these malnourished girls are 5'10 lol] Amber: ✂ Amber: short shorts are a teenage girl staple Amber: I'm going to get something else pierced while I'm this young and beautiful Lux: 😄😄 I have the legs for it 💁 Amber: and if you get 😽 called, you get to say everything Dash refused to listen to earlier Lux: Alright, I'm ready 😎 🤩 🥳 Amber: 🙃 Amber: let's go!

[katsitting]

Hello.How are you? It's my first time asking someone on tumblr a request.Can you do a fem Tom Riddle/Voldemort x male Harry Potter one shot or multichapter fanfic(I wold like it if it was rated E but you can do otherwise ).There aren't so many (or not at all) fem TMR/LV fanfics so you would do me quite the favor.I love your writing style too and read some of your one shots /multichapterd fanfics.Thank you for doing this.

AN: This definitely came late. Sorry about that, I had a ton of prompts to fill and only just got to this one. I hope you liked. I don’t know how I feel about this story personally, but I hope that this is close to what you hoped for. It was supposed to be a PWP but, that didn’t come to pass.

Rating: M

Warnings: Horror, Naga!Voldemort, Female!Voldemort, Mild Sexual Content, One-sided Attraction, and Non-con elements.

“Are you sure this is a good idea, mate?” Ron cut in nervously, disrupting the heavy silence that had fallen between them in the dark forest.

Harry scoffed, rolling his eyes because of course Ron would be nervous now. They had agreed to this, they had made their decision earlier that morning when making plans for Halloween. Leave it to his best friend to chicken out now before the real fun actually happened.

“Ron, are you really going to do this now? You were the one that came up with the idea in the first place!” Harry said, exasperated when Ron yelped suddenly, his steady footsteps now sounding more like stumbles in the dark.

Ron had likely tripped on something, knowing him. Maybe he had gotten caught in a spider’s web? Maybe he had caught his foot on a tree root and now was working aimlessly to not fall on his arse?

Either way, Harry did not bother to turn back around. He was on a mission to get to the old Riddle manor, and there was nothing that could stop him. There were too many strange things happening at the place. Disappearances. The sounds of terrified screams. Odd things that should have made him think twice before going in, and of course, he did have his reservations about this whole thing.

But Ron. He had made it sound like a perfectly good idea to go on ahead.

And now, here Ron was. With second thoughts right at the last second. Harry could not go back now, not when he had crafted a perfectly good lie to his parents to get through. Especially when he’d told them that he’d be going to be at Ron’s when he in fact would not be at Ron’s.

“It’s just, this is creepy. Everything is silent and all…” Ron said again, seemingly gathering himself before following after Harry’s more brusque pace.

“…What did you expect? I told you that this would not be a good idea. I didn’t want to come out here at all. But you insisted. It’s too late to turn back now, Ron. The lies have already been made, we can’t possibly take it back after we told our parents we’d be at each other’s house.”

Ron heaved a heavy breath before shuffling more quickly behind Harry.

“…You’re right, I’m sorry. But can’t we just go to ‘Mione’s place? It isn’t too far from where we are.”

Harry groaned, finally stopping to round on Ron.

Honestly.

Ron looked ghastly underneath the glow of full moon, his blue eyes wide and terrified at the prospect of moving further through the shadows. It was fortunate that they had some light to ease their path, especially when their flashlights, although useful in some respect, were too small to truly capture much around the forest. They could clearly discern a couple trees and some gnarled roots, but not much else.

Still, it made Harry pause for a moment. He was tempted to call the whole thing off right then and there. He didn’t like the terrified look on his friend’s face. At all.

But toss it, it hadn’t been his idea to do this. He had wanted to stay home and play horror games all night long. And again, Ron had been convincing.

There was something odd happening in the Riddle manor. He couldn’t just go back now without at least scouting the place…

“No, Ron. We can’t just crash at 'Mione’s place like it’s alright. We both agreed that we wouldn’t tell her what we would be up to. Lord knows how well she’d react to seeing us both dressed up in heavy camo trousers and long-sleeve jumpers. She’d find out immediately, and then neither of us would be able to hear the end of it.”

Ron paused, mouth opening to say something before closing it immediately when Harry glared at him.

The last thing they both needed was an incensed Hermione on their backs. It was already bad enough that they were lying to their parents and sneaking off in the middle of the night to a potentially haunted manor. They didn’t need to tick off Hermione and have her rat them both out in an effort to stop them from going through with their, admittedly, stupid plan.

She was loyal, but she’d never accept their stupidity for such things. Especially when there were plenty of rumors following the manor like a plague. Rumors that, in Harry’s opinion, were enough to scare even the bravest.

“Toss it, why did you let me talk you into this? Why didn’t you just tell me no before we came here?” Ron groaned, hands digging into his hair in frustration. Harry shrugged, shooting him a resigned look before turning his attention back to the invisible path they’d been taking for several minutes now.

There was no real way to get to the manor, but everyone that lived in town just knew instinctively where it was. Better to know where it was than to not know at all and unwittingly stumble upon it when camping with the family. It was a place everyone avoided, save for a couple knuckle-headed teens. A group that, unfortunately, Harry fell under since he had only just turned seventeen earlier this year.

It certainly felt like the beginnings of a horror movie, but Harry would never tell that to Ron.

Harry started trekking through the trees, flashlight pointed to his feet to avoid stubborn roots and large rocks in his path. He heard Ron moving steadily behind him, oddly silent as they continued to walk.

They didn’t stop until the heavy foliage broke, and the manor came within view.

Harry shot the manor an assessing look, taking in the severe state of disrepair the place had fallen into.

The gates that had, once, protected the manor from thieves and other dangerous folk were rusted over. Misshapen and crude underneath Harry’s careful scrutiny.

It looked just like the manor in that Resident Evil game he and Ron had played earlier that month in anticipation of Halloween. It was uncanny, really. The wood holding the porch atop the double doors of the manor was rotted over, and Harry, if he squinted, could even see the way the roof at the very top looked about ready to collapse.

It was a hazard to go in, and Harry knew that. Hell, he could feel the danger on his skin like the frigid air tickling the nape of his neck, but that did not deter him in the least.

He was going in there, even if it killed him. He would make the best of his night, and it wasn’t as though he was going alone, he reasoned. He was going in there with Ron, and that was marginally better than him going alone.

“Alright, it looks like no one has been here for ages. The gate is wide open. We can definitely get in through the front entrance.” Harry said, turning round to shoot his friend the most convincing look he could muster.

But Ron wasn’t there.

The boy that had been following closely behind him had disappeared. The only sign that Ron had even been there at all, the second set of footprints in the snow winding down the path they had taken.

Harry felt dread seize his throat, as if a clawed hand had suddenly gripped him tightly by the neck.

“Ron?” Harry asked, swallowing down his fear to rush back to the opening they’d come through in the forest.

His footsteps echoed ominously in the emptiness. The crunch of his steps, of twigs and dried leaves as they snapped beneath his feet, thunderous.

It had taken him seconds to reach the opening to the forest, to scan the area for any sign of Ron. His friend wasn’t the most secretive, nor the most careful when he walked. On the walk to the manor, Ron had made more noise than a stampeding elephant.

So this silence unnerved him, more than he was willing to admit.

But instead of the sight of his friend’s turned back, or the sound of loud curses as Ron dutifully rushed back to civilization, Ron was nowhere to be found.

He wasn’t hiding behind the towering trees or the bushes flanking the stubborn trunks. All Harry had found were two pairs of footprints on the ground, packed deeply into the snow. They pointed back in the direction Harry had come through–towards the manor.

It was as though Ron had vanished out of thin air. There wasn’t a third set of steps evidencing that Ron had run back. Harry couldn’t make sense of it. People didn’t just disappear like that.

Harry swerved around to glance at the haunted house, dread making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

If Ron had not gone back from where they’d come, then there could only be one place he could have gone. Though how this was, how Ron could have gone to the manor when Harry had been staring at the only entrance to the entire place, Harry could not pin down.

It was impossible. The logical conclusion was to assume that Ron had turned back, that he had acted incredibly out of character to avoid the trouble waiting for them both in that manor.

Harry wasn’t convinced. In fact, everything about the whole situation reeked.

Harry paused, eyes narrowed into thin slits as he surveyed the open gates.

There was an itch just beneath his skin, a buzz of intuition thrumming along with his blood telling him otherwise. It made absolutely no sense. Hermione, if she were there, might even smack him upside the head for even considering what he was considering.

Harry couldn’t contain it even if he tried. Everything within him screamed that Ron was in there. Petulant and assured. More confident than the shadow of fear that lingered like a veil in the back of his thoughts.

Ron was in the manor.

Harry did not hesitate. He clenched his jaw before brusquely heading to the rusted gate, ignoring just how loud his footsteps were in the near silent place. There were no birds rustling through the trees. No sounds of animals crying out, hunting and playing, in the dark as Harry trekked on.

Everything was still.

It did not deter Harry, in the least. Convinced, even if irrationally so, that Ron was in the manor and that his friend had not come willingly.

Ron would never go out on his own. The redhead, though brave and stubborn, had been terrified once they’d taken their first steps into the forest. Just the mere notion of spiders was enough to get the bloke turning on his heels. It was an easy connection to make, even if it required quite a leap, even for him.

Harry was resolute in his stance, however.

The pieces just didn’t line up. There were no separate set of prints indicating Ron had turned back. No expletive when Ron, without a doubt, eventually ran into a cobweb somewhere in the dark. No sound of boots as they crushed leaves beneath his feet. Though anyone could argue that there was no evidence alluding that Ron was in the manor either, all Harry needed was his gut.

And it had spoken loud and clear.

If Ron had not gone into the manor willingly, then something had taken Ron without Harry knowing the wiser.

Harry passed the gates without sparing them a glance, shuffling quickly towards the front door that Harry had been certain were closed when Ron and he had first arrived. Harry’s gaze narrowed into slits, lips pursing into a tight line.

The doors were open. Parted wide, as if beckoning him to come inside. A silent invitation only Harry could understand.

Harry decided he would take the invitation. More than aware that he had been given no choice in the matter.

The polished wood and carvings inlaid of the door glowed brightly when Harry pointed his flashlight at them. The emeralds etched to the wood were lit in brilliant greens. The color becoming more and more pronounced as Harry neared, as if it hadn’t been exposed to light in far too long.

Harry frown deepened, but did not stop, even when everything within him told him to turn back.

He squashed his fear down, shoving it behind a proverbial lock and key. His friend was inside the house. There was no way he would leave him behind, not when he could do something to get him out.

Especially when it’s your fault he even disappeared in the first place…a quiet voice hummed in the back of Harry’s head, guilt like a ten pound weight in the pit of his stomach.

The guilt fueled his movements. Encouraged him to head inside even when his skin crawled.

Harry had barely stepped between the grand entrance when the doors abruptly slammed shut behind him. As if a powerful wind had suddenly blown against them, rattling the very foundations of the manor.

He stumbled, only just catching himself before he acquainted himself with the dust-ridden floor below.

Quickly, Harry after regaining his balance, he turned to the door and clasped on the ornate handle. He pulled, but it refused to buckle under his weight. The doors unmoving even when he pressed his foot against the door to force it open.

The wind couldn’t have done that…

Harry’s stomach jolted at the thought, and adrenaline rushed through his veins. He released the door after yanking at the door two more times with all the force he could muster.

It wouldn’t make a difference to yank on it. It was clearly locked.

Harry’s unease spiked, his grip on the flashlight tightening imperceptibly.

It had been an impressive show of power…though not entirely unexpected. He had already suspected something more was happening in the manor. His instincts practically screamed at him to turn tail the moment Ron had suddenly gone missing.

What was shocking though was that the ghost, or spirit, would just reveal itself to him like that. It would have made sense to catch him by surprise by trapping him in a room or something. To keep itself hidden as he explored the place while looking for Ron.

It was how most horror movies went. But for the door to just shut itself on its own? Not one second after rushing inside? Harry wondered what that could mean.

Maybe the creature felt confident than Harry would not be coming out alive? Maybe it somehow knew that once Harry walked in, offering himself like a sacrifice to an angry God, its success was assured?

If that was the reasoning behind this show, then the ghost, demon, thing was sorely mistaken. Harry would not make this easy, not when his friend’s life was at risk. Even if he died in the process, he’d make sure Ron made it out of it alive to tell the tale.

“I know you’re there.” Harry said, taking in the grandiosity of the main entrance with a shrewd gaze.

He hadn’t expected a response, so it was unsurprising when silence was all he got in return.

The creature may have announced in no lesser terms that it was there, but it seemed that facing the monster head on was out of the question.

The creature wanted to scare him, that was for sure. But it wanted a hunt. A chase, if the unsettling silence that surrounded him was anything to go by. Harry wouldn’t give it the satisfaction.

Harry cast his flashlight about the room with tense shoulders and bent knees. Ready for the smallest inkling of trouble even as a heavy silence settled around his shoulders like a cloak. Too aware that if he let his guard down, that the creature would pounce.

It had already done so when Harry made the mistake of taking his eyes off Ron. What was stopping it from doing something when he turned his back?

Harry eyed the way the shadows danced along old furniture, taking in the ghost of a once opulent parlor. It was a shadow of its former self, with dust coating every single surface in the room, refusing to part from the furniture it had made its home.

It was almost a shame that it had been left to such disrepair. That no one in the past decade had purchased the home and decided to restore it to its former glory.

Though, in all fairness, Harry was certain that the neglect was more due to the resident ghost problem than actual disinterest. No one was crazy enough to buy the Riddle manor when it was rumored to be haunted, when there were too many bizarre incidents connecting back to the manor.

Except for him and Ron, of course. That should have been his first clue.

But there was no point regretting this fact now. With each second he lingered in this ancient parlor, Ron could be fighting for his life somewhere. Scared.

Harry banished the mental image of Ron’s pleading gaze.

Harry swiveled his flashlight around the room, nose scrunching with distaste when the smell of mildew and decay practically oozed from the walls. The holes and pockets in some of the rugs on the floor, moth eaten and green with mold.

It was as decrepit as it was impressive. It was undeniable that this place, at one point, had been booming with loud voices and cheerful chatter. An impressive piece of architecture that was both the envy and the delight of all that entered.

The entrance was grand. The style reminiscent of the perfect symmetry of renaissance chapels, with not a single arch, painting, or step on the staircase out of place. Everything was precisely calculated, measured and tailored to the tastes of its owner–the style, perhaps at one point, innovative and scandalous.

Though, none of the poise remained now. Once soft green walls that had once paired impeccably with mahogany chairs and tables, with bookshelves and even a baby grand at the far corner right of the room, were now were darkened with age and neglect. The doorway with its beautiful archway, dazzled with oil lanterns and paintings, instead of shining brilliantly beneath his flashlight, were worn and rusted. Some of the hooks lodged off, as if torn from the walls. The source of that aggression, unknown.

Harry walked over the carpeted floor until he was right at the center of the parlor. His attention suddenly drawn to the second floor, the shadows writhing in the background forcing him to look.

There was something there.

Harry could not explain the feeling. The twists in his stomach were like cramps. Like a sharp claw had pressed against his solar plexus and refused to ease up. Even as his breaths strained, became louder and shallower.

The monster was in the second floor. The feeling was unmistakable.

And then Harry was moving, flashlight catching on one of the two staircases of the parlor. It wound around in a narrow spiral, the black railing gleaming beneath his light even through the many layers of dust coating it.

The steps on the staircases glinted a bright yellow, but Harry did not stop to consider whether it was safe to even climb up. His stomach was in knots. Something was urging him to go upstairs, and Harry had to follow.

It pulsed like a heartbeat, in time to the staccato of his breaths.

Harry took the first step, and it was as though all the air had been sucked from the room.

If the room had been still and silent before, nothing compared to the sudden listlessness that fell around him. The darkness felt more oppressive, practically oozing from the corners and the cracks in the foundations of the walls.

Even the railing looked brittle, the iron more like string than the gleaming black Harry had scrutinized earlier.

He hesitated. It was a brief second, no more than an exhalation.

Doubt swelled inside him, like an over-inflated balloon ready to burst at any moment’s notice. Fear reared its ugly head, depriving him once more of the tenacity he was known for. Notorious for, if what Hermione said was true. Everything was screaming for him to turn back.

Harry went forward anyway, swatting it away like a bug. Ron needed him. He couldn’t hesitate now.

Another step, and his senses began to scream. The voice, unlike one Harry had never heard before, shouted for him to turn back around. To ignore the second floor, to explore the first floor and leave things at that.

Harry pushed through it, jaw tense.

He wouldn’t be cowed. Not when the creature seemed to want him to stay away. It was hiding something up there, it had to be if it was fighting Harry tooth and nail. If this sudden fear was the creature’s doing.

Maybe what it’s hiding is Ron…

Harry took another painful step, and then another, and another. He didn’t stop even when his gums ached from how tightly he clenched on his jaw. Though this fact did not deter him. He doubted anything could. Not the whispers that suddenly began to murmur into his ears, and certainly not the weight that burrowed deeply in the pit of his stomach.

The voice begged him to turn back, to see reason where there wasn’t any. But he couldn’t, he had already come this far. Ron was somewhere in the darkness, and abandoning him was out of the question.

Though, even knowing this fact, Harry’s mind was absolute chaos. The rush of adrenaline through his veins, the tension in his limbs when another wave of fear clenched tightly around his windpipe. Harry could hardly make sense of the shadows and the yellow light catching the banister.

It was madness, the crushing weight of his own emotions and his stubborn nature clashing like two blades meeting.

And then Harry was at the top of the staircase, the world swaying around him as he tried to wrangle his breaths into submission. The panic thrumming in his veins abated at once, the rush of blood to his ears silenced.

Everything grew still, as if Harry had not tried to fight through a powerful gust of emotion forcing him back.

Harry cast a glance back to the bottom of the stairs, his fingers digging into his flashlight to glimpse at the world below.

There was only shadow. The light did not penetrate the gloom. Not even the broken windows at the bottom-most floor could pass through. It was as though the black devoured the light, prevented even a sliver of moonlight to wash the gloom with pale, silvery light.

Harry’s heart raced, fear like a sharp blade pressed to his chest. He couldn’t turn back, even if he wanted to. There was no telling what would happen if he went back down after he’d risked his arse to go up, when he had ignored reason to chase after something that waited for him there.

It was too late, and it would do nothing for Ron.

Harry righted himself, realizing then that he’d been doubled over. That in his rush, he hadn’t noticed how dangerously his knees dipped and his head swayed.

Sucking in a deep breath, Harry turned his attention to his new surroundings.

The stairs had brought him to a wide hallway. The furnishings and the cabinets lined along the walls nearly black with age and tattered, just as the first floor had been. Except now, there were actual doors. Not entrance ways, not openings, but actual doors that Harry could explore.

There were portraits of all shapes and sizes flush against the wall. Pictures and frames either face down or standing proudly atop the cabinets and dressers right at the entrance of the hall.

Harry could not make out a single face in any of them from where he stood.

Harry…

A startled gasp escaped his lips before he swiveled around–certain that the voice had come from somewhere behind him.

But there was nothing behind him. Only a door that looked as if it had seen better days. The edges were rusted. Burnt orange and red glittering obscenely under his flashlight as he tried to calm himself down.

The hiss had been so high that it had to have come from a woman. Like the scream of a banshee, or at least, how Harry would imagine a banshee were to sound like if it were real. Except it hadn’t been angry, at all. It was devoid of aggression, though that fact did not make it any less frightening.

The voice had come unbidden and much too close for comfort. It had been a hair’s length away from his neck, as though it had been murmured directly to his ear.

He shuddered, casting the iron door a wary glance.

It was suspicious how the creature had appeared only when he was gearing up to head down into the hall. Could it have done it on purpose?

It could have, for all Harry knew. He wouldn’t have noticed the door if the monster hadn’t scared the ever living shit out of him.

And now, Harry could not even think to turn his back on this door. Not when it looked like the entrance to some medieval torture chamber.

It stuck out like a sore thumb, and against his better judgement, Harry slowly moved towards it. With an outstretched hand, he reached for the handle, while the other clutched tightly on the flashlight as though it were a weapon.

Well, here goes nothing.

Closing his hand around the handle, he ignored how the cold metal drained what little warmth he had in his palm. As if it were sucking the very life out of him by simply holding on.

Harry swallowed nervously and squared his shoulders. If something stood waiting for him on the other side, he’d be ready for it.

With a hard wrench, the door came open with a loud, ominous screech. It echoed through the silent manor like a gunshot. Harry didn’t so much as flinch, already expecting it.

It was similar to the doors his dad often worked on in his garage. The hinges were always rusty and loud. They needed a bit of oil and the like to get up and running, to stop the annoying squeak that often plagued them. It was how he had met Ron in the first place. His dad had come by with the redhead in tow, in need of some help with a door he didn’t know how to fix.

Harry shined his flashlight inside with his left shoulder pressing against the open door. The cold metal seeped through his jumper, but he hardly paid it any attention. Not when the darkness was so thick that his small light barely penetrated it.

It was like a cloud of black smoke from an erupted volcano. The ash swimming like particles in the air, absorbing and swallowing all light that dared trickle through from the hot, summer sun.

Unease prickled the nape of his neck when a cold gust of air blew against his face, the breeze almost alive, twisting and writhing against every inch of exposed skin on his face and neck.

Harry had never been more grateful that he’d worn a jumper than in that moment.

It was freezing inside the room. Near arctic temperatures, if Harry had to guess. As if someone had trapped winter in that very room, with only that iron door to keep it from getting out.

Harry shuddered, fingers like ice, as he stepped deeper into the darkened room.

The door closed with an audible click behind him, but he hardly paid it any mind. Not when the darkness was percolating in the room, almost wispy, like the tendrils of his own hair after a bath.

He pointed his flashlight throughout the room, unsure of what he would find.

The darkness was still as oppressive as it had been from beside the door. It hadn’t changed, even as Harry stepped deeper, hand outstretched.

Still, it refused to yield to his silent demands. Light could not cut through it. Harry doubted that even the morning sun could light this room up, even if bottled in his hand.

And then, the flashlight went out. The darkness blinded him.

The flashlight released a soft groan and sparks of electricity shot out.

Harry hissed, dropping the thing when it shocked him, his fingers pulsing painfully.

The flashlight rolled somewhere unseen. The sound of it like nails scratching at a chalkboard. Grating and uncomfortable, even as Harry tried his best not to panic in that moment.

The light had gone. There was nothing except an endless, unfathomable abyss. The kind that Harry imagined lingered beneath the bed of precocious children. The kind that parents told scary stories of, that his own mum had, while he was curled in his own bed, warned him of.

Harry had never felt so afraid in his life. It was the sort of fear that settled between the space between his rib cage. It lodged itself into his throat, robbing him of his ability to so much as breathe.

It was endless, and everything Harry could see. All he could feel even as he tried not to lose himself to it, to let the monster that had lured him into this room, win.

He had to remind himself that this was what the desired. It wanted him to be afraid. It had wanted him to come through here rather than the hallway. It had trapped him in the manor, and now, it was doing everything in its power to frighten him out of his wits. To rob him of his own ability to think.

His insides churned, unable to tear off the suffocating horror that crushed his lungs.

“Harry!”

A voice snapped him out of his stupor, released him from the choke-hold of fear and unease that nearly overwhelmed him.

The voice…sounded like Ron.

Recollection bloomed in his chest, and Harry released a deep breath he hadn’t known he was holding. His relief, even if minor, welcomed.

Harry would recognize that voice anywhere. After years of playing football together. After weeks upon weeks of studying, complaining about Hermione’s rigid study schedule, it was unmistakable.

Ron was there.

“Ron? Where are you?” Harry called, releasing a deep breath before turning in the direction he believed it had come from. Though where that was, Harry couldn’t be sure. Not when he couldn’t make heads or tails of where he was. He could end up walking directly into a wall, for all he knew.

Harry found that he didn’t mind that at all. Walking into a wall, that was better than standing still. An improvement, considering he had nearly lost himself to his own panic in that moment.

Ron did not answer, but Harry began to move anyway.

Knowing that his friend was alive was all he needed.

It was all he needed to force himself to shuffle through the unknown.

Ron was alive.

Hidden, but his friend was somewhere with him. A place that couldn’t be too far away. Ron’s voice had not been muffled, had not been masked by layers and layers of wood.

It had been crystal clear, like Harry’s own breaths in the dark. Ron had to be close.

Hope bloomed in his stomach, and Harry did not stop even when his foot smacked onto something solid; when his arms flailed, and his palms shot out to break his fall.

A pained sound escaped his lips when his knees knocked harshly against the floor. When his fingers smeared on something wet, and then his hands were slipping, sliding across the ground. Harry’s chin knocked painfully on the ground, a sharp burst of pain making his teeth rattle in his mouth.

It was a miracle he hadn’t bitten off his own tongue, but still, it hurt.

His stomach had landed on something smooth and firm, a slight warmth burning its way up from that single point of contact.

It singed his jumper with its intensity. It knocked the air from out of his lungs, his chest suddenly tighter than it had been even when he’d tried to brave the stairs to this unknown floor…

His fingers twitched and more of the substance smeared onto his hands. Harry couldn’t help making a face, disgusted by just how sticky and thick it felt. Unaware, practically blind, to what he’d landed on.

He wished he could see, at least just to make sure that what he’d landed on wasn’t mud or shite.

“Harry…”

A fearful scream tore from his throat when a voice murmured into his ear. It was the same high, gravelly voice. The syllables, the words,  fell from what, Harry could imagine, were lips that ghosted against his flesh. They breathed softly against the shell, enough so that Harry could feel just how dangerously close those lips were.

Harry jolted away, or at least tried to.

Before he could make some distance, something snaked around his ankle. It was a solid, firm hold that was so bitingly cold that Harry wondered if his blood had frozen from the contact.

Harry kicked back, a startled breath heaving from his lungs when the solid form beneath him began to move. The object that he tripped on, that had brought him crashing to the ground was alive.

Fear sliced through him and all rational thought fled.

“L-let me go!” Harry shouted, but then the hand dragged him back by his ankle. Sharp nails dug into the flesh, and Harry struggled against a grip that pulled at him with more force than Harry thought possible.

It was unyielding and none of his writhing could tear him from out of it.

“Harry…” A voice purred, cold air fanning along the shell of his ear. As if death had chosen that precise moment to speak, to show him that it was there. Waiting, always waiting, in the darkness for him with outstretched hands and sharp teeth. A mouth that was bloody and wet, ready to rear back and tear into quivering skin.

He scratched onto the ground, pinpricks of pain blooming along the edges of his fingers when the presence continued to drag him away into the unknown and his nails dragged on the grooves on the floor.

“You haven’t changed at all…”

Confusion bloomed along with his fear.

What?

Harry’s brows knit together, even as his fingers still scrambled for something to hold onto. The slaps of his palms against the ground were deafening, nearly drowning out the sound of the woman’s voice.

“W-what are you talking–”

Harry had no time to finish his question before he was suddenly sailing through the air, weightless.

No!

His stomach jumped, and his nerves screamed. His senses were lost, and the glasses that had so far remained on the bridge of his nose, fell away. Lost in the darkness, never to be seen again.

Panic rushed through his veins, and hands reached for the glasses he knew he wouldn’t find. Hoping, against all hope, that his fingers would catch on the wiry frames.

His fingers met nothing but air.

“Still too blind even with everything laying out in the open…”

Harry suddenly stopped. His toes were no longer touching the ground. He was dangling in the air, held up by some invisible force that robbed him completely of movement.

“Naive…trusting…in spite of the predator prowling around you…”

Harry tried to move his fingers, but they were frozen. He couldn’t even wriggle his toes. All he could do was throw his head back and forward, tilt and shift.

All of his movements had been robbed from him.

It was impossible.

His fear swelled inside him at this fact, at the knowledge that he was helpless. That there was nothing he could do, not when the monster had finally revealed itself.

“A bleeding heart…following a dangerous path with death hanging above your head…”

A cold sweat broke out on the back of his neck, and he gasped when the room suddenly exploded with light.

It blinded him, and Harry immediately closed his eyes to ease the ache that settled over his temples.

“How I’ve missed you…”

Slowly, he opened his eyes; wanting nothing more than to figure out what this creature was even talking about…

And he immediately wished he hadn’t. Not even his poor vision could mask it.

The creature that had stolen Ron from him. The monster that had hidden itself away, had played with him like he were some toy, stood before him.

Her skin was pale. Bone white and dry.

The skin glittered like diamonds, scales flashing purples and pinks when they caught along her jaw, cheekbone, and temples. She was hairless, the same white flesh stretched above her head.

Harry took her in, unable to look away.

Her face was monstrous. Instead of a nose at the center of her a face, where a nose should have been, there were two slits. They flared in time with her soft breaths. Thin lips were stretched into a sharp smile, dazzling white teeth exposed to his gaze.

Yet, those were not the features that truly made her horrifying. They weren’t what struck him, what made breathing more and more difficult as he stared at her.

Her eyes were scarlet. Instead of the browns and blues, greens and hazels he had come to see throughout his life, her eyes were red, so red that Harry wondered if someone had painted her irises with blood.

Harry couldn’t look away.

His eyes were captivated, caught by the thin shape of her pupils. They should have been round. But they weren’t. There was little humanity in that gaze. They were the eye’s of a snake, the ring of red making the creature look even more monstrous than she did already.

How had Harry missed this, when those eyes were so bright? How had walked into this manor without catching even a glimpse of eyes as cold and deep as those, when they gleamed like precious rubies even with the room lit up like a light show?

It didn’t make sense, but Harry had quickly learned that nothing about this whole evening did. Not the disappearance of his friend. Not the door shutting closed behind him as he tried to piece together this mystery. None of it did.

She was the most frightening creature he had ever seen. No horror movie could capture the essence of the power her face retained.

Absolutely nothing.

And there was no running away from her. No turning back, even when every thought in his head screamed for him to fight off the power keeping him restrained.

He made to shift, to pull back as far away as he could, but his body was immobile.

There was nowhere to run.

“W-what are you? What have you done to Ron?” Harry asked, voice so soft that if it weren’t for the silence that had fallen between them, he would not have known he’d spoken at all. Blood pumped rapidly in his chest, the rush of it like a torrential rain that refused to abate.

Panic pulsed within him, unrestrained.

The woman tilted her head to one side, the gesture like that of a predator assessing its prey. The movement drew Harry’s eye to the rest of her, giving him a chance to break from the intensity of her gaze.

The creature was shrouded in shadows. The long, thick fabric wrapped around her shoulders and hips, the cloth pooling to the ground. As if she hadn’t a care in the world that her clothes were getting dirty on the dirty floor.

Harry watched her with bated breaths.

She stepped closer, closing the short space between them with one fluid movement.

Harry followed the way her body swayed, how the cloth around her shape began to melt and fall away from her shoulders.

Pale skin revealed itself to him. Scaled where the bone jutted out from her rib cage, where her hip bones were most prominent and easy to discern.

She bared herself to him, unveiled rosy nipples that were nearly the same shade as her lips.

A deep flush settled onto his cheeks, utterly embarrassed and perplexed, as to why she was suddenly completely starkers. Why she was bridging the distance between them rather than killing him, as he was certain she would.

It didn’t make any sense to him, and Harry gaped when the fabric pooled completely to the ground and she stood before him, her own lips near his own, nude.

They were near enough that Harry could count her eyelashes, and how they framed her almond shaped eyes. Even without his glasses.

She was too close, and Harry wanted nothing more than to jolt back. To run and find Ron. To never return, even when this creature seemed to know him so well.

Her eyes were lit with recognition and something else. An emotion he had only ever seen an animal wear when presented with a delicious meal.

Harry wondered if he was that meal. If she planned to devour him, consuming him, before turning on Ron…

If Ron was even still alive.

“He is unconscious. You need not be concerned for him.” She murmured, trailing her nails against his cheek with an intense look of wonder. As if she had never touched skin as soft as his, or touched a human-being before.

Harry flinched, the contact making his skin prickle with gooseflesh.

“He will live. He has served his purpose.”

Purpose?

Harry licked his lips, unease winding more tightly around his throat when her gaze flickered to his lips, drawn in by the simple gesture like a moth to a flame.

“W-what do you mean? What are you even talking about? Just who bloody are you?” Harry said, eyes glued to the skin between her eyes.

Her nails trailed down his throat, and they scratched along his neck. They curled around the collar of his jumper, and Harry’s heart nearly leaped from out of his chest.

Her touch was questing, but nothing invasive.

Though his heart refused to settle, even when her touches had yet to turn violent.

“Did you think that your friend brought you here out of curiosity? Suddenly brave and intrigued by the promises lurking within my home?”

Harry swallowed, shooting the creature a glare when her lips twisted into a victorious smile.

It set every nerve in Harry’s body on edge.

“Of course not, dearest Harry. You and I both know that your friend would never risk himself in this way…and let alone drag you along with him.”

How did she know my name? How did she know so much about Ron?

Harry’s stomach dropped when she leaned in closer, her lips a whisper against his own.

“You are here because I wished it. From your decision to enter the forest to your refusal to turn back.”

Heat danced along his cheeks when a hand slid underneath his jumper. The fingers were cold, and her nails did nothing to stop his skin from crawling when it scratched up his stomach.

Harry wondered faintly if she had somehow drawn blood, if with a practiced precision, those claws could rip him open if she wished it.

Something wet slid between his lips, and Harry barely bit back a gasp when a long, forked tongue slipped past the woman’s lips. Her eyes shuttered closed for a brief second, as if the taste of his mouth were the sweetest thing she’d ever had in years.

Oh god.

“Don’t touch me!” Harry protested, but the creature did not listen.

She pressed against him completely, her naked breasts pressed against his chest and a long slim leg settled between his thighs, parting them for her.

Harry wanted to die.

“You taste…exquisite, Harry.” She said after pulling her tongue back, eyes flickering open to fix him with a hungry look.

“If you don’t stay away from me I’ll–”

Harry was unable to finish the sentence.

The monster had dropped her hand from his face and down to the fly of his trousers in seconds. Her nails were digging harshly against the material, and it took all the restraint Harry possessed to not squeak with surprise.

His cheeks burned brighter, embarrassment morphing into horror when the woman began to transform before him.

Once subtle serpentine features became more monstrous. Fangs began to grow from out of her mouth, her elegant cheekbones and jaw began to narrow. Her legs melted into one another, until it was no longer just one leg between his thighs, but a massive coil.

Pearly scales glinted underneath the atrocious yellow light above them, and Harry could only watch with mute horror as she became more beast than woman.

Harry’s throat tightened.

“Or you’ll what?” She mused, and Harry shot the monstrous bitch a glare.

The last thing he’d expected when he came after Ron was to come face to face with a snake monster. He’d guessed, at most, that there was a ghost in the manor. That the ghost, after it had discovered what his intentions were, would try.

To be accosted, to be told that he was the reason Ron had been snatched in the first place, was ridiculous.

His fear gave way to anger and confusion. He didn’t know what to feel, his mind shuffled through so many feelings that it was a miracle he could even feel anything at all.

Everything about the situation was overwhelming, and just as he was about to say a few choice words; tell her exactly what he thought of her, the creature’s grip on his groin tightened to the point of pain.

Harry saw white and a scream tore from his throat.

Her grip was punishing and cruel. Her laughter the only sound Harry could make out through his loud yowls and ragged breaths.

“You have no power here. You are a mere human now…” She sneered the word “human” out as if it disgusted her.

If his prick wasn’t currently being crushed within her grip, he might have pointed out that it was better to be human that a hideous monster. A creature that thrived in the darkness, that had no hope of blending in with the humans she spoke ill of.

“…For the time being, at least.” She said, and all the air fled from his lungs at the mischievous gleam in her eyes.

Harry glared at her, even through the pain, and spat.

Satisfaction blossomed in his chest when his aim was true and a thin trail of saliva ran from the top of her cheek bone down to her chin.

He had expected anger for his defiance. He knew that behaving the way that he had would only incite her ire.

But instead of angering the beast as he had first anticipated, the creature began to laugh at him. Her shoulders shook with amusement and her grip on his groin loosened enough for him to relax.

Thank god.

His prick still throbbed, but it was still better than when she’d been bloody crushing it.

“You’re mad, absolutely insane.” Harry gaped, unnerved by the glee that flashed in her eyes. It made her eyes burn brighter, like someone had shone a bright light into them.

“And you, are perfect…” She hissed, fingers lightly tracing along the inseam of his trousers. The touch made his skin jump and his mouth part with discomfort.

“From your riotous curls to your defiant mouth…you are truly my Harry.”

Harry had never been more confused in his life. He didn’t know who he was supposed to be, who she kept speaking of with such an excited glint in her gaze.

“I-I don’t know what you’re on about, but I don’t even know your name. I am nothing–”

“My name is Lord Voldemort, and you belong to me.”

Harry made to protest but stopped when her fingers, the very same fingers that were skirting over his groin, slid up and into the waistband of his pants. Dangerous nails trailed along the skin, and Harry refrained from insulting her.

Not with those claws. He wasn’t entirely mad enough to incite her with her hand down his bloody trousers.

She had nearly crushed his prick earlier. There was no telling what she might do if he said something in that moment.

“Your impertinent tongue…your brilliant eyes…all of it is mine. I allowed you free reign once. Permitted you to live a normal life before you were stolen from me. But no more, I will not lose you a second time.”

Voldemort looked absolutely feral. Her eyes were wild, all of her amusement had drained from her face. She looked as though Harry would, at any moment, be snatched from her grasp.

And then she was on him.

The hand playing with the sliver of skin inside his trousers wrapped around his waist, while the other, wove itself into his hair. She yanked and Harry groaned, a protest thick on his tongue when she bent his head so far back he could only see the light bulb hanging on the ceiling.

“Let me go!” Harry cried out when her fingers tightened on his hair, when she pulled his head further back and she pressed her face against the crook of his neck. She smelled him, her mouth hot and wet against the sensitive flesh.

He didn’t know what she was doing, but he didn’t trust it. Not when she had fangs and she had no qualms whatsoever about hurting him.

She said that she missed him. That she enjoyed his impertinence. Harry did not trust her not to bite into his neck, to not poison him with her sharp teeth.

“Never again, Harry. Never again.”

Harry’s world exploded with pain.

Sharp teeth sunk into his neck, and Harry could not bite back his screams when her jaw locked. She refused to let him go even when movement returned to his limbs, when the force restraining him melted away and he fell into her arms.

He was like a rag doll, unable to do much else as he dug his fingers into her bare shoulders. He practically crushed the skin, dug blunt nails into the flesh. He did whatever he could to get her off of him, to stop her from grinding her teeth into his neck until Harry could only see, could only feel, could only hear his own agonized cries and the pulse of his heartbeat.

The agony began to abate, but Harry’s horror only increased, his cries became more pronounced when numbness then began to spread from where her teeth had sunk. It was like ice chasing after the warmth of the gleaming sun.

Tears ran down his cheeks, the pain and the fear so much that he couldn’t contain them.

NO!

Voldemort retracted her fangs from his throat, the warmth suction of her lips falling away to expose his throat to blistering cold. His body shook, but the woman’s arms holding tightly onto him could not chase away the cold.

The terrible cold spread inside him, oozed from his pours, from his lips, and ears. Harry sobbed, terrified, and Voldemort lapped at his neck.

Her tongue was abrasive against his skin, and he shuddered when she continued to drink the blood leaking from his throat. The sound of her slurps and ragged breaths made his stomach turn, more than it already was.

“Shhh…”

He didn’t care that he looked pathetic. That his eyes burned and his throat felt like sandpaper. He didn’t want this.

He wanted it all to stop.

“It’s frightening at first, but in time, you will see the gift I have bestowed you. Death shall never have you…not again.”

Harry sobbed harder, and Voldemort’s words became softer. The madness had gone, evaporated like smoke from the tenor of her voice. As if it had never been.

“My mate…my soul…”

And then, his vision swam. The world began to darken at the corners; his lips, his ears, his fingers, and his toes all faded from his memory.

Something pulled at him, squirmed and writhed from somewhere within him. It itched, dragging him deeper into the nothing.

A soft voice began to speak, one he, somehow, knew he should have recognized, but couldn’t. It sang to him, carried him adrift.

“Sleep…and remember me…”

Harry closed his eyes, and then–

Nothing.

[oh-mother-of-darkness]

Sorry to bother you, but I was wondering how do you handle an adult life? I'm 17 and the fact that I'm going to be an adult is starting to panic me more and more. Like I CANT talk to adults. I stutter&I'm a mess. I'm even bad with my peers. Some advice on how you do it would be nice. I try to ask my parents, but they aren't very helpful and seem ready to drop me into the deep end to "teach me" a lesson about being an adult. (Sorry again about non blog related question. No obligations to answer)

Oh boy, I’m gonna do my best to answer this, but full disclosure? I’m pretty bad at being social. I have some issues, and talking to people is really hard for me. That might be helpful in this context if you’re coming from a similar situation, but I don’t know if that’s the case, so it’s possible that my stuff won’t work for you. I’ll give it a whirl anyway.

I actually was thrown into the deep end when I was about your age, because I ended up going to college in a state where I pretty literally didn’t know a single person. I don’t know if that was a positive thing or not, but I can definitely say that I’ve gotten significantly better about talking/adulting since then. I’m still terrified of everyone older than me, but I can fake my way through the majority of it now. 

For me, the biggest step was increasing my self-esteem. When I started living on my own in ‘14, my goal was basically to be invisible (a skill that I mastered a looooong time ago). I have this thing about people looking at me, so I didn’t like any kind of attention. It definitely affected the way I talked to people (I didn’t) and the way I acted.

That shifted after I discovered a couple of things

1) some attention is positive, and positive attention feels good

2) I’m imagining a lot of the judgement I feel from other people

The truth is, people don’t pay as much attention to you as you think that they do. We’re all trapped inside our own heads, right? My frame of reference puts the majority of emphasis on me, because that’s the only person I can hear and the only emotions I can feel. The same is true about you– you hear your thoughts and feel your feelings, so it seems like everybody else should be focussed on you.

That’s your mind playing tricks. Don’t believe it. Everybody else is focussed on themselves, not you, and that’s a good thing! They’re not actually looking at you. They’re just looking around. As soon as y’all walk away from each other, odds are you’ll disappear from their mind. It means that you don’t have to worry about doing everything perfectly. They don’t actually care. 

Repeat that to yourself whenever you feel like you’re doing badly. It doesn’t matter. They don’t care. They’re not that concerned about the things that you do.

Two tactics for increasing your self esteem:

Find something you’re good at and do it. A lot. I started writing fanfiction when I was 18, and it straight-up changed my life. I’d never had that level of positive reinforcement before– for the first time in my life, I felt better than mediocre, and it made me proud of my own skills. Once I knew I was good at something it became a lot easier to talk to people.

(This is where you need to bear in mind that I’m not what the kids call “mentally stable” so like…. this might not be healthy) For a solid two years, I played this mind game where whenever I felt like somebody was judging me or being unkind to me, I picked one of my more angry favorite fictional characters and imagined them yelling back at that person. It worked really well for me because it let me fight back without actually doing it myself. I don’t really get angry, so I imagined someone getting angry on my behalf. Thing is, after awhile I really could think things like “I don’t deserve this” and “hey asshole back the hell off” in my own voice. I don’t know if I can explain that any better

Practical tips for maintaining a conversation:

Ask questions. It’s a lot easier to have a conversation if they’re doing most of the talking, and they won’t think it’s weird if you seem interested. Just keep them talking by asking for more information about whatever they just said.

They’ll get more comfortable (and more talkative) the more emotion you express. Listen actively. Nod along. Say stuff like “Really??” Your eyebrows are your friends. React to the stuff they say.

If you don’t know what emotion you’re expected to express, draw your eyebrows slightly in, rest a hand on your mouth/chin, and say “interesting.” They’ll interpret that as whatever response they were expecting.

 I feel more comfortable if I’m prepared, so I straight-up have memorized anecdotes that I practice until they go smoothly. I mostly use stories about my siblings, but I also have this speech about communism that I use every time someone asks me what I’m thinking about.

I don’t know what kind of English you speak, but I realized a long time ago that if I amp up my accent, other southerners trust me more and everyone else sees me as less threatening. If that applies, use it.

Don’t be ashamed of your interests. It might seem embarrassing, but other people don’t see it that way. Niche comic book knowledge actually goes over pretty well at parties. Related tip: find The Interest of the person you’re talking to, and your life will get a lot easier. Let them teach you about it and they literally will not shut up. It’s great. Also you get good recs that way.

Tips to get people to like you:

Be helpful. Good in two ways: if you don’t know what you’re supposed to be doing and that makes you feel anxious, ask whomever is in charge if there’s something you can do to help. They’ll be charmed, and you won’t feel awkward anymore. Also good because people really like the folks that do them favors. They also like the people they did favors for, so let people do things for you if they offer.

Everybody likes the kid that brought food. Bake cookies. Bring cookies. New friends. Even if you don’t talk to them afterwards, they’ll have a positive opinion of you. I never spoke to the majority of my dorm neighbors, but they all liked me because I set candy and juice boxes in the hallway every holiday. In a classroom setting, offer to share your gum, buy extra scantrons, and lend people your pens. 

I befriend people solely by throwing gifts at them until they feel my love. Ask any of my mutuals. They’ll tell you.

Kindness honestly goes a long way? A lot of people, especially young people, really need someone to be kind to them, and they’re not used to getting that. If you can be that person, it’ll help them and it will make the two of you a lot closer. That’s how real friendships start. 

Always be respectful of other people’s trust. If they tell you important things about themselves, treat it seriously. Try to understand how they feel, and then let them know that you understand. Don’t tell other people’s secrets.

Tips for forcing yourself to Do The Thing:

I keep my to do list on post-it notes stuck to my dresser, one item per note, so I can pull them off one at a time as I do them. It’s more satisfying that way.

Personally I’m a lot more willing to do the things I hate if I feel like I’m doing them for someone else. Easiest way is to get one of my friends to ask me to do it (Hey in an hour text me and tell me to go to the grocery store). The best way is to bargain with one of my friends (if you call your doctor, I’ll make a real dinner tonight)

Again… I don’t know if you’re coming from the same place as me, but it really helps me to be open about my problems. I just tell my friends about my mental health issues, and then they help me to work around them.

Treat!!! Yo!!!! Self!!!! Seriously reward yourself for getting things done. Give yourself an episode of The Office for every page you write. Buy yourself ice cream for getting your errands done. If you’re going to do something stressful, have a plan for something relaxing afterward (I’ll go to the induction ceremony, and then I’ll go to the puppy store and pet a beagle)

[Eliza voice] 🎶 T a k e  a  b r e a k 🎶 If socializing is hard for you, realize that you don’t have to do it all the time. It’s okay to opt out, especially when you won’t lose anything by doing it. Personally, I go out of my way to make sure that no one speaks to me on the bus, walking across campus, or during lunch. Those are me-times. You can make sure people get the memo by wearing big headphones, bringing a book (even if you’re only pretending to read it), and avoiding eye contact. 

I find music really helpful for prep/recovery too. It works best if you find one song and play it on repeat until you get to the stressful thing, and  then do the same thing on the way back. Focus on one element of the song at a time. If you do it right, you can hit this meditative sweet spot where you stop thinking about what you have to do.

Stress relief (take it with a grain of salt because I am 95% stress at any given time):

Make your bedroom into a happy place. Pick a strong scent and make that part of the atmosphere– your brain will start to associate that scent with calm. My room smells like Irish Spring soap. When you finish something stressful, go to your room, take a few minutes to lie down and relax, breathe in and out, smell the happy smell. You did it.

Do stupid shit that makes you happy. Blow bubbles on your porch, put colored glassware on your windowsills so the sunlight turns red and blue, sing in your bathroom so it echoes all over the place. 

I hate admitting this with every fiber of my being, but exercise does actually reduce stress. So does eating healthy and sleeping normally, but I’ve never tried those last two.

If something makes you happy, keep it around. Save birthday cards, display presents from your friends, keep a happy tag online so you have a list of stuff to come back to. Your brain will remember the positive reaction, so it’ll undo some of the damage when you’re upset. 

Making other people happy will make you happy. Easiest method? Hit that anon button on the asks, pick the top five people on your dashboard, send them a nice message. Wait for excited response

It’s okay to google “cute babies” and scroll through pics until you feel alive again

I find it helpful to make things. I don’t know, there’s something about spending a long time on a project that makes me feel more productive, especially if there’s a visible product.

Things to remember: 

They aren’t watching you. They don’t care if you mess up. Your brain is lying to you.

Your worth is inherent and cannot be diminished by any of your actions or failures

Odds are the people you meet now won’t be the same people in your life in a few years. That means you don’t have to impress them. If you embarrass yourself in front of the lady at the brochure stand, it doesn’t matter. You probably won’t ever see her again.

It’s okay if this is hard for you. You don’t have to love meeting people.

You don’t have to like everyone. You don’t have to be friends with everyone.

It’s okay to say no. I repeat: it is okay to say no.

You’re going to be okay. You have a destiny, and you will fulfill it. It’s going to turn out exactly as it should. You don’t have to worry about your future.

These things get easier with time.

There’s no shame in seeing a therapist or talking about your problems

You have talents. You are interesting. You deserve attention and praise.

You know where to find me if you need anything