#my therapist brought this idea up to me like a year ago and its literally changed my view on how i treat food forever💀

[reggiestein]

Interesting licorice cookie fact: he loves food. Any time hes shown with it its generally treated as a big deal for him (and that 1 time he literally cried happy tears over it)

(for the first one its too long to add but this whole bit he goes on to talk to his fans on his story but he keeps getting distracted by the food🙏)

In the Cake Shop event, every time he asks for a cake, he always asks for a lot of toppings. Never a little, never a specific amount, always a lot.

(i have a point abt all of this but i think its cute and in-character that hed always go for the overzealous choice of just adding a bunch of something rather than a sensible amount. also side side note i think its a cute contrast to pomegranate, who always knows exactly how many toppings she wants)

In ovenbreak, when you give him a Licorice Skull Candy, he responds with "This is all for me, right? I'm not sharing!" (Something ill ADD once i find a SCREENSHOT OF IT😡💥)

In the Cake Shop event, (again, in the story) he's really stingy with his cake, and hates the idea of sharing it with anybody

Also licorice is canonically noticeably skinny

Sad licorice cookie fact: when people don't consistently have food (due to neglect, poverty, etc.) its typical for them try to hoard food when they do have the opportunity to get it, even if they're no longer in a spot where they need to do that. Its common for them to take more than they need if its available, usually in an attempt to save what they won't eat now for later.

😶.........idk💀

[beaisdifferent]

ADHD: How Did I know?

About a year ago now, I was in my kitchen with my then boyfriend.  I don’t remember what we were talking about as I cooked dinner, just that we were talking as we always did, with me jumping between points of conversation that were very obviously connected for me, but that he needed a roadmap to follow. 

Eventually he stopped me.  “Have you ever considered you have ADHD?”

I laughed and brushed him off.  Obviously I didn’t have ADHD.  I could sometimes sit still doing the same thing for hours.  In fact sometimes it was like I couldn’t do anything else!  And I got good grades in school.  So obviously I didn’t have ADHD.

Those two factors were literally my only defense against the idea.  If anything, it was probably just my probably-autism.  Later that week I brought the conversation up with my therapist, probably rolling my eyes like I knew what I was talking about.  She frowned thoughtfully, and I watched her think back on all our sessions.  Pshh, come on.  I could hear my father in the back of my mind, everyone has ADHD these days, nobody had it when I was a kid, maybe they need a good spanking to sit still, its just a way to make money by drugging up kids.  Then her voice cut overtop my dad’s.  “We should look into this.”  She sent me a few forms, pre-assessment questionnaires to determine if getting officially tested would be worth it.

I read the questions for ADHD.

Uh oh.

Uh oh.

UH OH.

It’s all very me.

It had already figured I had autism spectrum disorder for a while, did I actually have ADHD?  Did I have both?  Was that even possible?

It had me nervous and curious, so I went deep diving.  I read on the experiences of people with ADHD, particularly adult women, and found discomforting relatability.  Then it became comforting relatability.  Could it be that all these things I hate about myself are actually symptoms of some funky wiring in my brain rather than personality flaws?  I also learned that while the topic is still being researched (thank goodness, don’t ever let the research stop), it is very possible to have both ADHD and autism.  It’s not even that uncommon.

So, I went and officially got tested, and received Autism and ADHD stamp of authenticity.

I was a month away from turning twenty-four, finally given an answer an answer to a lifetime of questions.  Questions I had stopped asking.  Questions like, why is it so hard to make friends?  Why can’t I remember to do simple things?  Why does life seem so overwhelming for me when everyone else seems to manage it just fine?  Why do my emotions feel so overwhelming and uncontrollable.  Why do I feel paralyzed in the face of things I know I can do?  I had accepted the answer I was given by people who didn’t know any better than I did.  I was lazy, clearly didn’t care, was just anxious, etc., etc., bullshit.

I’ve spent a lot of time this year looking back on my life, reframing things with this new understanding.  I had a label, I had an answer, I had a community.  I was neurodivergent.  I connected with a friend with ADHD and found we had even more in common than I thought we did.  So many things that had been a target of self-loathing for me were now a target of understanding, things that could be helped with the right supports in place.

It changed everything.  And it has continued to change everything.  And that super smart boyfriend became my super smart husband a few weeks ago, so the changes have been for the better.

Visit my blog at beaisdifferent.wordpress.com for a neurodivergent perspective every Tuesday at 9:00 am EST.

[elytrafemme]

okay because i'm not trying to diagnose you but, as someone with it, that post you made is literally the most bpd/bipolar thing you have ever said. like if i was a professional i would be like Um Here's This Bpd Test. another thing i wanna say is that imposter syndrome is a dick! and mental illness is often exaggerated in pop culture or you will subconsciously exaggerate to then deny your own symptoms. soooo don't fall into that trap if you ever start looking into it ^^ and while you can't get an official diagnosis until eighteen you're like pretty close to that age so unless you're like, strategically not looking into it (as in you cannot personally process the idea of it right now) i don't think there's harm in trying to research! this was unsolicited advice though so sorry about thattt i am just very into psychology stuff. -🍇

HI HI no worries about unsolicited advice seriously, i sometimes want to violence people who try to give me advice but generally speaking tumblr mutuals get a pass so long as it's not dumbass shit you know what i mean? so like anything u say is good lol i like getting psychoanalyses <3

yeah I brought it up to my therapist when i was 15 i think? or 16. about a year ago and i like just turned seventeen a month ago so u get it ages and all that. at the time i was told it didn't line up and i actually ended up insulting my therapist, mildly trashing my room, blocking a bunch of people on discord, and then yelling at my partner at the time and another close friend. the next session though i was fine and agreed that it probably didn't match; i was kind of just having Rage Central at the time where you could set me off for several hours straight if you, like, made one tiny comment about me. you get the vibes?

yeah imposter's syndrome is weird, i've done it a lot with systemhood which... they're definitely here lol! there are like... four different mental health conditions that i feel like explain the 90% of my behavior that isn't covered in anxiety & depression (+ psychosis i guess) but y'know. diagnoses hard!

i'll keep it in mind though! i mean i have kept it in mind LOL one person w BPD told me its unlikely i have it (which due to my age at the time of that was Extremely Fair Actually) but i think like 5 people with BPD have brought it up to me so i'll keep thinking about it.

srry if this is a lot of information you didnt want LOL its just interesting to me

[thispabulum-blog]

Use Your Words

Thoughtful Thursday

I'm a words person, clearly. I've talked at length before about how one of the biggest problems that Dr. Strangelove and I had was communication, not being able to communicate effectively with each other, and leaving a lot of things unspoken.

This is definitely a thing I've brought up before, but there was an article I read years ago where a couples' therapist was talking about how most of the people she talks to have the same complaint: they're not communicating. But the real issue is that as people, we're always communicating - all of our words and actions communicate something to the people around us. We're just not always conscious of what we're communicating, or how it's being interpreted by others.

This idea stuck with me and I think about it absolutely all the time.

Over the years, I think where things were falling apart was that more of our relationship was taking place inside our heads than it was between us. One person would say or do something, and the other person would overthink it, get mad or upset about it, and keep it all to themselves for hours or days or months.

Resentment is one of the most damaging things you can have in a relationship, and there was so much of it built up between us that there wasn't room for anything else.

Clear, open, effective communication is something that I've been working really hard on, personally. It's difficult, for sure, but it's also really important.

One of the biggest steps for me was forming relationships with people who don't get angry easily, so that I don't have that feeling of walking on eggshells. Not feeling safe is a huge barrier to being able to communicate well.

Other things I'm working on or trying to be more conscious of:

Processing my feelings

This is always been a big thing with me. For trauma reasons, I don't think well on the spot because all of my mental energy is going into either panicking or trying not to panic. It's like there's an alarm going off and it's too loud for me to think clearly, and I have to remove myself from the situation and go somewhere quiet (literally and/or figuratively) so that I'm able to sort through my feelings and figure out how to articulate what's going on in my mind.

A big part of this is how many layers some feelings can have - the thing that set it off isn't necessarily what I'm actually upset about. I remember talking to my first counselor about how I felt like anger is a lot of times just a fake emotion; a cover for some other, often more vulnerable emotion that for whatever reason we're not comfortable expressing: disappointment, betrayal, injustice, hurt, frustration, jealousy, doubt, guilt, fear. And you have to peel back that layer of anger to get to the bottom of what you're really feeling and why you're not able to feel it on its own.

I explained it to Space Kitten one time as untangling the Christmas tree lights. Everything is tangled up and the lights are going, but it's a big jumble that doesn't function as intended. And there's no quick fix; you just have to sit there and untangle them bit by bit, figure out which bit is wrapped around which, and where this end is stuck, and sometimes there are smaller knots within bigger ones. Eventually you get something neat enough that you can hang it on the tree.

Writing is usually the only way I can process my feelings. The Anxiety Brain moves too fast and won't sit still long enough to have coherent thoughts. Writing it down is like pulling on a thread of those lights, and when I get stuck I can take it a bit at a time.

Setting clear boundaries

Boundaries, boundaries, boundaries.

In trying to establish some type of friendship with Dr. Strangelove, boundaries have been a big part of it. He's not great at them, which should surprise no one. He still seems hurt that I won't tell him where I live.

We had lunch together last week, which went mostly okay, and we agreed that we should do it more often. The problem is that he suggested I come over to the apartment (that we once shared) to watch a movie. In the moment I was unable to express it, but I'm extremely not comfortable with that. Being alone together, sitting on the couch, in the dark, watching a movie...it's too much.

Unfortunately, he's not ready to meet Cuddlebug for whatever reason (and he's allowed to have reasons for that), so I guess we'll just continue meeting up in public places for now. This is an important boundary for me, and I need to work on being able to express that to him.

With Cuddlebug, I'm still working out those boundaries. At the moment there's a lot of trial and error, like "That thing you did upset me more than I was expecting. Can we approach that differently going forward?" and I'm trying to keep an eye out so that I can get more comfortable speaking up. He's super receptive, but he doesn't know where all the traps are.

Thinking out loud

This is quite possibly one of the dumbest and most obvious things I've ever had to convince myself is normal and perfectly fine to do. Instead of just thinking something, you...say it. To another person. And then you don't have to make assumptions or wait for them to read your mind or anything.

Examples (mostly stolen from Cuddlebug, who seems to live his life unimpeded by filters or self-consciousness):

How are you feeling?

Would you like to do XYZ or ABC? Or is there something else you'd like to do?

This is good.

Let me know if you want to do something else.

I'm going to do XYZ for a while, and then I'd like to ABC. How does that sound?

Was there anything you wanted to do this weekend?

I'd like to go to bed in about an hour.

Do you feel like doing XYZ?

I'm gonna go to ABC, do you want to come with me?

How would you feel about XYZ?

Can we try ABC?

Being proactive

There's that saying of "it's easier to ask forgiveness than permission", and I don't think it applies well with communication in a relationship.

If I'm feeling especially sad or cranky or hormonal, I try to let whoever I'm dealing with know that as soon as I'm able to identify it. Even if it's just "I'm sorry, I'm feeling really 'off' today" and letting them know that I might not be as talkative or that I need some space. With Cuddlebug it's usually that I need him to be quieter or less of a brat, and he's a good enough boy to be understanding of that.

It gets better results than waiting until I snap at someone and then have to apologize.

Finding the language

After/during my freak-out at the wedding, Cuddlebug let me text him to explain what was going on and how I was feeling, which was enormously helpful. Talking is hard for me, because I need time to process things and because it's hard to get words out when I'm upset. It's good to figure out what works best for you.

Even Dr. Strangelove and I had a term we used, "brain-bad", which we used to indicate that we were feeling mentally unwell in some unspecified way, depressed or anxious or whatever. It allowed us to signal something without having to go into detail.

It's good to establish what method(s) of communication work for you, and whatever terms or shorthand are clear and effective for explaining what you're trying to get across.

These are just some of the things. Obviously it's an ongoing process, but it's getting better!

[scummy-writes]

This is really awkward but heyo lets talk about things I never wrote when I said I would

There's probably been a lot, though first thing that comes to mind is me promising to at least try to finish requests that were sent out to me as far back as literally a year ago. Then, it's the 'suitors reacting to mc being pregnant' series I wanted to do, but ended up being unable to. I think there's been snippets of old fics I've wanted to publish (like some kinktober snippets, or drabble ideas I shared, other small things), said I would publish sometime 'soon', and then never did.

I don't know how to really Approach the topic because it's going to be a lot of excuses in the end, even when I'm wanting to try and explain the reasoning behind it all.

I can be firm in saying that, at the time, I did fully plan on finishing what I had set out to do. I wanted to, but then I got held back from doing so. From life events, but also a lot of mental issues.

This is probably going to sound so stupid, especially since I've been writing for years, but I have such godawful anxiety when it comes to writing.

I used to have a lot of fun with it, and I still do whenever I manage to finish something, but as much as I hate to admit it, being hounded on for over a year about writing a character 'ooc' in a past fandom really did a number on me. It's not fun waking up to messages chewing you out about how ooc a character is, and that stretching out to cover a whole year.

I've gotten made fun of irl for my writing as well. Like back in highschool teachers mocking my stuff in front of the class and my friends chiming in, all of that fun stuff.

In a lot less words; now I just get scared of writing characters that I don't feel at least like. 80% confident in writing.

So thats the reasoning behind me saying I'll do a full suitor series in xyz, and then never ended up doing it. I get too nervous its going to be too disappointing, and even when I thought I could do it and had ideas to apply, I chickened out. I couldn't convince myself any of the ideas were good enough and constantly scrapped it all.

And that in turn stretches out to requests. I thought at first I was just too stressed from comms/pandemic starting/work, but i think it still links back to that. I get insanely nervous about posting things, and its only gotten worse as time goes by. (Like, hey, I've been trying to work through it. I was seeing a therapist, but after her kinda scoffing and laughing at me regarding writing, kinda accepted she couldn't help me out in that department. )

And then, in turn, a lot of this applies to fics. I know I've posted drabble snippets before and said something along the lines of trying to tackle x drabble after I finish y thing, and then seemingly never doing so.

When, currently, a lot of kinktober drafts have morphed into a longer christmas fic that I never got done on time. (And, you guessed it, it's because I keep convincing myself its not good enough to pursue). Not all of them. I mean, some have pushed towards a oc fic for Amélie, some for other smutfics, etc. (Recycling I guess?)

I sound completely bonkers in all of this

I just don't know how to explain it. I mean "Hey, I fucked up, I'm sorry if you all felt lied to, I'm sorry" just seems lazy, and I just want to make it clear that there's reasons behind everything, the lack of fulfillment wasn't supposed to hurt anyone, it just. Happened. I'm sorry.

I wish it could be as easy as just sitting down with a word document open and just Going, but it's not. I'll sit in front of an open word doc for hours and just spend the time convincing myself no ones going to enjoy whatever it is I'm working on.

Which, is NOT a commentary on a lack of support or something. You guys have always been sweet, and in my opinion you are all quick to leave nice comments on whenever I do manage to post. (And those comments are not tossed aside, I really do appreciate all of them)

It's more of a commentary on my mental state I guess, and how bad my anxiety with writing how gotten. You guys don't get to see a lot of the 'fun' behind the scenes of a few select friends having to basically hold my hand while I agonize over publishing a new fic or not.

None of this is said to guilt anyone, because no one following me should feel guilty. No ones pressuring me outside of myself, and you guys support me and are always nice. It's just the remnants of a weird stalker/harrassment issues I've had, and irl issues. I mean. Hell, I feel like it's normal to have issues after going through a year of regular harrassment.

Just. Hoping it sheds some light on things. I get that it's annoying regardless, and I understand that, I would just feel worse if I didn't try to explain why I never got around to finishing them.

I'm trying not to promise stuff as often. Because I'm going into another month of working overtime, and, honestly, I'm trying to prepare on finding a new job. My current one is causing me to go through new anxiety meds and making me freakout way more than a job should.

In light of that, I will guarantee that I'll do the theo pegging fic. I can't promise finishing other fics or drabbles, but since the fic is supposed to be a celebration for you all, I can't not do it.

I can't guarantee *when*, it might be months from now, but I will have it done eventually. I'd feel worse than ever if I didn't, and that will drive me to finish it eventually.

That's the only thing I feel comfortable promising right now.

I'm sorry for such a long and spirialing post. I've been feeling guilty about a lot of this for a while now, and then it was brought up that I've probably or have made a lot of people feel lied to. So I thought I would attempt to address it.

In other news, due to work, I haven't been posting much and have been somewhat 'hiding' in my server. Sorry for barely any activity, I just feel kinda. Annoying. So I haven't been on tumblr much.

[olde-scratch]

So I watched LUCIDS 1-4 without any prior knowledge...

and here were my thoughts. I didn’t watch any backstory or anything so enjoy my suffering.

PART 1

“So what happens when the people inside of their dreams go to sleep?” They die

“What happens when we wake up? Do they go on living while we’re not there?” THEY DIE-

“Who are they anyway?” they’re faces that our brain catalogs and stores for later use, although it’s also arguable that every time we dream we go to an alternate reality and inhabit the body of another version of ourselves. Now, were you in a car accident and trapped underwater or-

Are they twins?

(Me tuning out to do something)

“-the squirrel in spongebob was your soulmate, making you a Sandy simp-”

Me, snapping back to the video: hold up-

[missed the part about the worksheet, realized it when i rewatched 10 mins later to make this post]

yall speakin gibberish idk what youre saying-

“I’m gonna go to bed.” bro it literally looks like morning-

“You should get some sleep you look terrible.” i get six hours of sleep a night minimum and i look worse than him shut up bro-

“jump into someone else’s dream” ah i know this con-

why they all got the same face-

haha funni meme

“--an interruptiion can create feedback and tear them apart.” Death. I long for thee.

Is that Karl Jacob’s jacket?

“a second grader” makes me think this is a different school system. [i was wrong? i think?]

“[get him to] eat your apple”

[in the dream sequence] weird dream, but ive had weirder. now, Why Pamper’s-

why does he suddenly have a knife-

“You put a filter on the Dreamscape feed?”

“Technically, you are seven years old.”

???????????

the second hand embarrassment is UGGGHHH

[reading the description] you mean like the guy who was knocked out for 2 minutes on a football field and woke to find he’d dreamt 17 years of his life? oh this shall be Fun

PART 2

[I check the description] “jasper cult” what the fu-

how many camp camp references can i make during this

Is the apple a reference to religion or does the creator just really ilke apples?

“meal.”

“meal?”

meal????

Wait why couldn’t that guy eat the apple? If he wanted it in the fruit bowl, wouldn’t there be a chance of the guy eating it anyways?? Why can’t the guy who brought the apple eat it?

well he’s Dead

[debating if I should read the backstory}

n a h h h h h -

Was he gonna feed the dead guy the apple or something? Why is he upset about the apple in this scene???

oooo the grownups are fightinnnngggg

Is he an antagonist?

HE WROTE A BOOK???

oh now i want food

ESTABLISH JUSTICE ENSURE DOMESTIC TRANQUILITYYYYYYYYYYYYY

“I watched all those aforementioned shows” what shows did i miss something what-

man why you gotta hate on her jane austen fanfic let her live bro

string theory! i can get behind that! sorta-

o no he found the memes-

BOY GOT KNOCKED OUT-

kim there’s people that are dying-

is SHE an antagonist?

quinn? calling himself jasper? u sure hes not just nonbinary? is this just a metaphor for transphobic parenting?

“He died... but somewhere, he grew up.” So is your plan to take a Quinn from a different universe and make him your own, thereby robbing another version of yourself from happiness? When does this ever go well?

Yknow most people, when they lose a kid,,,, kinda,,,,,,, dont go on a ceaseless quest to find another version of their kid that grew up without knowing that another version of his mother was invading other peoples’ dreams to find and kidnap him,,,,,,,, like aint u got a therapist-

“Once you get past the point of not knowing what’s real anymore, you realize it doesn’t matter.” Well, I Got Called Out-

PART 3

“you’re real, oliver.”

aRe yOu sUrE aBoUt tHaT-

“you’ve been infected by the anti-love parasite of Mandadon” the amatonormativity is strong

so anyways ive been infected since birth hbu-

“James Jasperson, creator of Japple” did you mean to Fancy Well-Educated Man in a Black Turtleneck? cause the only FWEMBT i allow near me is prof. hidgens

“are you winning?” says the capitalist

why did you rewind to see his face?? you have the same face????? is this just bc the creator doesnt like working with other people cause in that case same but???????

“it’s a bad idea. i’m not gonna do it.” we’ve all been there. and we’ve all done it.

looks like me trying to study. (i say, a person who has studied a total of five minutes throughout their entire life.)

your “Spartan trial” looks like a bunch of guys standing on a hill pretending to be something they’re not. Let The Man Bring His Snacks.

eat the apple.

is this your first existential crisis or something what a loser lets all point and laugh

“One of you should be spared, the other shall’nt.” did you mean shant or was that a choice-

yall gonna get called out for talking shut UP

“sorry if this is too personal, btw. are you okay?”

me, confused and half understanding what’s going on and also needing to sleep cause its almost one in the morning but wanting to finish what i can find of lucids which i only starting watching cause i saw an animatic of ranboo and dream w audio from it: i don’t know anymore

“i just want my life back... i was gonna get married-” AREN’T YOU LIKE SEVEN-

ay man if this is a sacrificial cult yall gotta get daniel-

UPDATE: I  H A V E  N O T  F O U N D  I T -

“oliver”

I  F O U N D   I  T -

WHICH ONE IS QUINN?? WHO’S JASPER???? WHICH ONE IS BENJAMIN???? I THOUGH BENJAMIN WAS SEVEN BUT I THOUGHT HE WAS THE ONE GETTING MARRIED WHAT-

oliver. eat the apple.

“Can you still have memories even when you’re dreaming?” One time I woke up to my alarm and fell back asleep and in my dream I remembered that I had class in a few minutes and my dream self woke my real self up so fast I thought I was gonna get whiplash. Anyways, I was late to class bc of my computer but that doesn’t matter.

NOPE I FOUND IT. HERE’S THE AUDIO. THE ANIMATIC ONE. FINALLY.

im thinking car crash. but also maybe murder. but also maybe both? is it raining or was he drowning? is he in a coma? hmmmmmm?

wait olivers the one with the apple does that mean he’s the one dreaming? is the ending gonna be him and jasper (quinn? idk) fighting against ben and mrs hills about jasper eating the apple to save oliver from the dream? hmmmmmmmmmm-

waitwaitwait i thought oliver was 7 how is benjamin 7 years younger than him if they look the same age what what what explain america explain what you mean arkansaw-

are the cuts on his nose plot-relevant or

“What if you hadn’t been driving?” So I was right about the car accident but Mrs. Hills still said he was seven so did i mishear her say that BENJAMIN was seven? but even then oliver would be 14 and that would still be illegal-

“How are you feeling?”

“Like you’re a pretty bad therapist.”

mood

“--it makes it all bearable to have power over the stories we write in our heads” that’s why i write fanfiction

HE’S GOT THE NOTEBOOK HE’S GONNA WRITE SOMETHING ONE OF US ONE OF US ONE OF US

WHAT YOU MEAN AN EXPERIMENT THAT’S HIS NAME-

[upon reading the description] so i was right.

wait was that supposed to be the twist in part 2 about the apple in his pocket is that what the existential crisis was about i thought it was because he was introduced to the multiple worlds theory-

PART 4

wait wasnt the other one january 2018 why we going back to 2017-

appol

“--the future and the past all already exist” mhm yep figured this out long ago

there was simultaneously a point in time in which i hadn’t known about this, had been looking it up, had been watching it, and had been writing an ending to this post, and had been posting it the next morning before class. that time is both now and not now. Welcome To The Multiverse Theory or whatever its called-

“--my favorite scene of the movie is waking up next to you.” Mine is eating fast food as I listen to AJJ and play Minecraft. We are not the same.

Now I’m hungry but it’s 1 in the morning and i already put my retainer in god fu-

[reading description] what do you mean previously??? she did that in the first episode????????

[still on description] WHAT DO YOU MEAN WILL QUINN BITE THE APPLE AND GO TO BENJAMINS REALITY ISNT THIS OLIVERS REALITY AND HE HAS TO GET BEN TO BITE THE APPLE WHY IS APPLE CAPITALIZED IS THIS THE DOING OF THE FWEMBT

i should have watched the backstory i should have watched the backstory i should have watched the backstory i should have wa-

[description] oh ive been spelling quinn right the whole time nice

i hope she rejects you /j

WAIT BENJAMIN WAS THE ONE GETTING MARRIED TO ISABELLE

ISNT HE IN SECOND GRADE-

HE IS SEVEN YEARS OLD HOW IS HE GETTING MARRIED ARE THERE TWO BENJAMINS THAT WE’RE FOCUSING ON-

bro get out of the road ull get hit

how do you knOW WHICH ONE IS QUINN THEY ARE THE SAME PERSON-

so

wait

hills wants ben to feed quinn the apple bc in his mind, that will give hills and quinn a happy ending and she doesnt want ben to see the apple bc thats gonna mean ben will know that his reality isnt reality at all. so then oliver has to,,,, not let anyone eat his apple? he just has to wake up?

IS HILLS THE VILLAIN AFTER ALL ORRRRR

wait but if ben sees the apple wont he realize that his reality is wrong and his reality will change, making it so that hills doesnt get her son? or is there some time-based rule that says they’re only transported to the reality that the person believes at that moment? or is this another stab at the multiverse thing where an infinite amount of hills gets their happy endings while an infinite amount of hills doesnt and etc etc?

i should have watched the ba-

oooo dramatique

they’re in a time loop?

nope thats a new powerpoint

wait so theyre,,,, no-

wait-

nvm-

IS THE BEN WE KNOW AN ADULT GETTING MARRIED TO ISABELLE OR NOT-

“they were actually pretty nice” didnt they throw someone off a cliff-

oh so it got confusing THEN??? NOT BEFORE?????

“it all seemed so real.” is that Not the point of vivid REM sleep hallucinations-

is oliver gonna show ben the apple and ruin hills’ whole operation

WHO ARE ALEX AND RYAN-

“what’s 25-8″ bro dont do this to me-

yep hes gonna show the apple

ayyy the guy who stole karl jacobs jacket it back

the second hand embarrassment is back and I Hate It

all that happens in episode ONE??? bro get some better writers that is bad pacing

“it’s the best!” wait until season eight. no show has a good season eight.

quinn knows about the apple thing w the dreams and multiverse and realities dont he

YOU KILLED HIM

NOT KARL JACOBS NOOOOO HES ALREADY DIED ONCE

oliver is v relatable

wHaT iN tArNaTiOn-

lemme hear that explanaton again-

is bill cipher gonna show up? i hope bill cipher shows up. i miss gravity falls

“ah! a tree! ah! a tree! ah a tree!” moooooooood

did hills murder quinn

is your family the jasper cult

TOXXIICCCCCC get that lady out of your life quinn that is so toxic

“ ah! a tree! ah! a tree! ah a tree!  ah! a tree! ah! a tree! ah a tree!” mooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooood

WHAT DO YOU MEAN THAT’S THE END NO WHAT WHY NO

The Adventures of Benjamin and Oliver

he is Not Good

ope-

wait so ben is equal parts an adult AND a child?? okay that clears a lot up

I MEAN HE WAS RIGHT THO BEN U CAN’T REALLY ARGUE ON THAT-

ew get off the floor

butterfly effect, multiverse theory, memory decay, and your imagination ALL exist yall gonna ignore that cause you wanna be famous?

“We already know what the future looks like!”

aRe yOu sUrE aBoUt tHaT-

to add to the list of bad things: Cats (2019)

YA BOI THINKS IT’S NOT ALREADY FIFTY YEARS TOO LATE TO START FIGHTING CLIMATE CHANGE FFFFF

BINGO BABYYYY

get what what

what mapped-

awwwww he thinks THEY’RE creating the multiverse

you gonna dismiss the multiverse theory bc of something you created in your current reality? loooserrrrrr

ABUSE YOUR GODLIKE POWERS

she draggin that seven year old

a lot makes sense now why didnt i do this first-

Jasper

the food shortages-

bro that calculators like 90 bucks at walmart

imagine meeting a stranger and they know Everything about your life like that’s gotta be so weird

what’s even weirder is them telling you you’re the deity of a cult that sacrifices animals

THAT FOURTH WALL BREAK WAS-

KARL JACOBS IS DEAD NOOOOOO

ooohhh there’s context for that

OOOOHHHH THERE’S CONTEXT FOR THIS TOOOO

w h a t -

w  h  a  t  -

W   H   A   T   -

Conclusion:

it’s 2 in the morning and i need sleep but hOOOOO MY GODS THAT WAS GOOD IS IT OVER OR NOT IDK ANYMORE IM TIRED THAT WAS CRAZY I HOPE QUINN AND JASPER GO ON TO BE VERY GOOD FRIENDS, AND I HOPE BENJAMIN AND OLIVER STAY VERY GOOD FRIENDS AND I HOPE HILLS FINDS A THERAPIST WAS A LITTLE CONFUSING BUT I ENJOYED IT

if i dream about apples im suing /j /lh

[wolfywordweaver]

Here's my contribution to @transmagesweek day one! It started off as a "prom" prompt with a side of "coming out" but somehow that got flipped around. XD

Enjoy!

**

I was pretty well terrified as we made our way across the Great Lawn and towards the lit up building where the Leaver's Ball was currently in full swing. Even from this distance I could see people dancing out in the patio, the fairy lights twinkling daintily above them. Penelope wasn't saying anything, but I knew that it was only because there really wasn't anything to say.

The gates hadn't opened for me and she needed to let me in.

Swallowing thickly, I wondered if I should even be here or doing this. Sure, it had seemed completely reasonable up to five minutes ago, but now I was second guessing myself. It was something I hadn't really ever had time to do until the last few months.

Funny how losing all your magic and purpose in life will do that to you.

Watford wasn't an option after the death of the Humdrum and the Mage, and I spent the remaining months of Eighth year on the Bunces' couch. Every interaction with the Mage had been analyzed. Each fight with the Humdrum and its monsters replayed. Years of struggling with my magic observed from every angle of memory, and even all my interactions with Baz came under the light of introspection.

I couldn't talk about most of this with my therapist. She was a stranger, and as well meaning as she was it wasn't like I could just flip the switch of my upbringing. I still mistrust, am nervous, and the nightmares continue.

The flutter of my heavy wings remind me that many things are different too. The dragon wings and the devil tail have been a confusing albeit enlightening addition to my life. They were really what set me on the journey towards this evening, hours thinking about them drawing my attention to something else that seemed so obvious that it was actually embarrassing that I hadn't noticed it before.

Being the Chosen One will do that to you.

Keep you from noticing things, like how badly you want to snog your roommate or how the discomfort in my skin could mean more than just the sheer pressure of magic trying to spill out of me.

It had started with the musings over my wings and tail, something that I thought would go away since I no longer had magic, but the idea began to sprout even more after a comment from Penny.

"When have you ever fit into any box, Simon?"

She had meant it in consolation, not as something as earth-shattering as it had been. But there it was, a truth that I didn't even know I was looking for.

All my life I had been put into boxes by others. Orphan. Foster kid. Normal. Mage. Chosen One. Hero. Good.

Male.

When I'd talk to the Mage about feeling strange in my skin, about not feeling normal or comfortable, he'd always tell me it was because I was the Chosen One. Different from everyone else and full of more magic than any Mage in the history of the world. It stood to reason that if I was no longer the Chosen One and didn't have any more magic, I still shouldn't feel that way.

But I did.

My wings and tail oddly helped with that. They were in the way all the time and completely impractical, but they were a physical representation of something that I knew in my heart. I may be a Normal, but I wasn't...normal. When I flew over the tree tops at the nearby park, magicked invisible by a nervous Penny, it felt good. It felt free. My tail whipped around loosely and I felt at peace.

The euphoria lasted after I landed and until some girl passing me and Penny mentioned that I made a cute boyfriend. She was apparently some Normal friend that Penelope had back in elementary and Penny quickly corrected her, but I felt the bubble of joy pop.

Boyfriend.

I wasn't even appalled at the idea itself since me and Penny being a couple was complete tosh, but I was still bothered for days. Bothered enough that I brought it up to Penny. Three weeks of discussions that I could barely get out the words for and one weekend with a worried Baz later and I finally brought a printed internet article to her.

"This," I stated nervously as I held the paper out. "This is kind of what it feels like."

Brown eyes studied me for a moment before she took the pages and quickly read over them. "This is...a trans person's experience."

"I know," I whispered, tail whipping behind me in agitation and my wings tensing. "Is that bad?"

"Not at all, Simon." Her calm response eased my worry a bit and when she finished the article, Penny looked right up at me without disgust or fear or anger. "Are you a girl?" she asked curiously. My immediate balking startled a laugh out of her before drawing one out of me. "Nope, okay. What are you thinking, Simon?"

A shrug was my immediate response, but I sat next to her on the floor and stole one of her crisps before deciding that words were needed.

"I don't know yet. I've read things online about non-binary and genderfluid and even neopronouns, but it's all a bit much."

"Gender is weird," she agreed. "But it's not like you have a due date to figure it all out. Take your time."

After another thoughtfully chewed up crisp, I asked the question that was really bothering me about the whole situation. "Do you think...that is...maybe Baz won't...he doesn't have to..."

She looked at me in surprise. "You don't really think that a guy who's been obsessed with you for literal years is going to suddenly lose interest because you're having a gender identity crisis, do you?"

I shrugged again. "He's well gay, yeah? Gay guys only like boys."

"And Normals don't ever have magic," she chuckled while gesturing a hand at me. "Simon, have you ever fit into a box properly?"

It was like a sign from heaven, and I lit up immediately. The words that she had used to feed that niggling little seed of doubt were now being used to comfort me again, and it felt even more true now than it did a couple of months ago.

So here I was, a Normal walking through the Watford School of Magicks. A Normal whose large red wings were on full display thanks to Penny's careful magicking of a gauzy sleeveless shirt, and my tail sticking out of a slot that had been altered in a pair of high-waisted slacks we found at the thrift store.

"You don't have to walk me all the way inside," I offered quietly. Penelope had made it clear that she was going to leave as soon as I got there, and I didn't want her to feel awkward or badly walking all the way out on her own.

"It's okay," she huffed, her eyes fixed on the large wooden door we were approaching. "I want to catch a glance at Basilton's face."

A blush bloomed on my freckled cheeks and she laughed with an ease that filled my fond heart.

"You think he'll like...this?"

I didn't look much different besides the unusual appendages and clothing I'd never been seen in before, but somehow I felt another step closer to knowing who I was.

"Simon, he'd like you even if you were covered in merewolf blood and gore."

"Ugh, gross."

"He'd make you shower first, but yes, even that wouldn't put him off." Taking a deep breath and nodding, I moved to grab at the door handle before she stopped my hands. "No, wait. Let me."

Stepping back, I was surprised to see her put her ring hand up and hold it towards the door. "Wha-?"

"Baz isn't the only one who deserves a dramatic entrance," she smirked. "Open sesame!"

And like magic, a wind kicked up at the same moment the doors flung open, and my wings instinctively spread out to feel the breeze roll over them so that I wouldn't be accidentally pulled back. Everyone's eyes turned towards me, but before I could get flustered and embarrassed I caught sight of wide grey eyes and a mouth hanging open in shock.

I'd made Baz speechless.

[theonetheycallhannah]

The Treatment of Capt. Syverson- Chapter Three: Therapeutic Activity

Pairing: Captain “Sy” Syverson x OFC (Shane Benton)

Summary: Tensions reach a boiling point during treatment one evening, Shane goes to her own veteran for advice, and takes the first step toward happiness…hoping beyond hope that everything doesn’t blow up in her face.

Masterlist with links to all parts HERE!

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: None, yet… ;) But maybe I should be putting language warnings in here…there are some bad words. And not to spoil but…there might be a bit of kissing in this one…

Author’s Note: Guys, I cannot stress to you enough how much I am enjoying telling this story. My goodness. To sort of combine my passions of writing and Henry with something I know so well like therapy (I’m a secretary like Heather, not a therapist), it really just makes me happy. The next chapter is already done, also, it was initially part of this chapter, but it felt too long, so I’ll be posting it separately later. I know, I’m a tease. Have Henry spank me. Lol.

Disclaimer: Unfortunately for me, Henry is not mine, le sigh, and all mention of him, his characters, any characters from his films, or his precious doggy, Kal, are strictly for transformative and recreational use. I neither ask for, nor accept payment for the work I post on Tumblr or AO3. Unbeta’d because this is for fun and escapism.

Tags:

@onlyhenrys

@cavillryarchive

@summersong69

@titty-teetee

@bloodyinspiredfuck

"This sounds…kinda dumb…" Sy expressed his thoughts on today's warm up with Shane.

"Oh, trust me, it looks even dumber than it sounds. But it works. And it's easier on your knees than doing it the right way. You ready?" he looked at the treadmill, inclined at 3% grade as if it was Everest itself, and looked back at her. "I'll start slow." she raised her eyebrows at him.

"You know just what to say to a girl." he teased as he stepped up, still gingerly, even after eight weeks of therapy. Crutches mercifully jettisoned two weeks ago. He was on his way to being his fighting fit self. With a foot on either track beside the belt, but facing away from the control panel, he waited for her to press start. He took a breath and nodded.

"Test the belt with your bad foot first, and then when you're ready, step down with it. Remember what I've told you about which foot should lead when ascending and descending stairs or hills?"

"Good go to Heaven, Bad go to Hell. So I go up with the good leg and go down with the bad leg."

"A+ student. Okay, when you're ready…any time…Sy, this is an hour session…I have to kick you out in 55 minutes…chop chop." she cajoled him, but he wasn't budging.

"It feels…weird going this way, Shane." If she had been a less kind person, she would have called it whining…she called it nothing, instead.

"I know. Do you need to walk backwards around the clinic a little more to get you used to that sensation?"

"Hell yeah. If that means you're gonna spot me like you did before…felt kinda like dancin'." it was a perfectly legitimate and above-board treatment strategy. They stood back to back, Shane guiding Sy as he practiced walking backward and pushing off with the extensor muscle group, which had been weak. Sy had suggested holding hands, but Shane had compromised with the idea to link arms. Not that she wasn't dying to hold his hand…she was. But that had not been the time. The time was still weeks away. At least.

"I was thinking I'd have you try it with Jordan. He's got a free hour right now. And I can assess your technique. How does that sound, Twinkle Toed Romeo?" Immediately he placed a tentative foot down onto the slow moving belt trying to adjust to the odd sensation of walking up a hill backward.

"Ah, so I now know that all I have to do to get you to do something silly is threaten you with Jordan. Filing that away for a rainy day."

"Come on, you're breakin' my heart, sunshine."

"Aww, don't be ridiculous. I've seen therapists do way more embarrassing things to their patients in the name of treatment."

"Tell me!"

"Sorry, but it's classified information. Protected under the Health Insurance Privacy and Portability Act. I could literally get fired for telling you, and there are way cooler things to get fired for!" She'd always said it. And she meant it. She didn't fool around when it came to HIPPA, and there was no way she was gonna lose her job over a stupid slip like that.

"Any examples of things you'd rather get fired for?"

She thought for a few minutes. She used to have a list.

"Hmm, telling off my bitch of a boss," he looked shocked at her use of a bad language word, which he'd never heard from her. She nodded. "Telling off an asshole patient," sleeping with a patient…

"What about sleeping with a patient?" It was late in the day, the only person still there was Heather in the office, and a few therapists still documenting. Nobody in the gym to hear him echo the thoughts in her head. As if he could read them as clearly as a page in a book. Large print. She looked at him in shock.

"Sorry. That was over the line."

"It was…but…"

"But?"

"But…it would not be the least cool reason to get fired."

"It wouldn't?" she shook her head, reluctantly.

"Especially if the patient was…amazing, and kind, and…fucking gorgeous…"

"Young lady, that language today, I have never!" he exclaimed clutching at his broad and beautiful chest.

"I know, but, Sy…this is all hypothetical, and theoretical, and IF I was GOING to get fired how would I CHOOSE for it to happen and WHAT policy I would go against. People don't just CHOOSE to be fired, you know?" she was nervous and rambling.

"You know what people also don't choose? Who they care about, and have feelin's for. Who they--"

"Don't finish that sentence, Sy." She couldn't hear him say the word he was going to say. She couldn't let him start that. Not when there was too much complicating their situation.

She walked off to her treatment room, needing some space.  Some time.

She didn't get that space or time. Sy hobbled in behind her, looking like a man on a mission. And she knew from his war stories that his missions tended to be successful…even the one that got him his walking papers wasn't a total loss.

"Sy, you still had like, five minutes on the tr--"

His big hands found the sweet spot where her neck met her skull. He took a big breath and closed the distance between them, his lips landing light as feathers on hers, her soft skin welcoming the roughness of his beard, though everything else about the kiss was terribly gentle. Almost chaste. Even his beard wasn't so rough that she worried about beard burn…she'd be filing that away for later, as well. Against her willpower and better judgement but in full cooperation with her desires and instincts she began kissing him back, daring to deepen it by opening their mouths a bit, and sliding her hands up the back of his red tee that sported a black skull. All of his shirts were entirely too tight, but you'd never catch her complaining. Even after several months away from active duty and really, most activity at all, his body was still so solid and powerful.

"Ain't that a daisy…Fuck, I've wanted to do that since my first appointment." he chuckled, lightly.

"Sy…"

"Don't. Don't try to argue or tell me you don't feel it. This energy between us. I've seen it in your eyes, Shane. I've felt it when you touch me. It ain't nothin, sunshine. It's a whole lotta somethin'."

"I know, but I need this job. And I WANT this job. Being a therapist is the only thing I've ever wanted to do. Helping people. People like you. Getting them better. It's what I was meant to do. And there's no place like this in the area for me to treat such a diverse clientele and build my skill set. It's not without it's problems, but it's where I'm meant to be."

"I get that. And you should do what you were called to do. You're too good at this not to do it. But Shane, isn't it worth pushing back on some policy if it could mean you get to have some personal happiness, too?"

"I'm worried they'll make me choose." Actually, it was more than that. She was worried about which choice she'd make. Giving up a ten-year career with excellent benefits despite its pitfalls, or giving up someone she could hardly stop thinking about, who made her heart pound when he smiled, and who was rapidly shaping up to be someone she could see herself sharing a life with…making either choice terrified her for very different reasons.

"You shouldn't have to choose. Any boss who'd make you deny yourself what we could have just because of some ridiculous policy…well, they ain't worth the gas that brought 'em to work today. Y'understand me?"

She nodded, smirking at his idiom, "You don't know my boss."

"Well, maybe I oughta GET to know her, if it's like that. I have a way of throwin' my weight around, case ya hadn't noticed." he shot her a smug grin.

"Ya don't say?" she retorted, brimming with sarcasm, literally still wrapped in the evidence of said weight in the form of his muscular arms, warm and thick, encircling her. Even though she felt like her life was up in the air, she had never felt more safe. "I'll try to have a chat with her about it this week. Our schedules rarely align, and usually that's how I like it, but I'll try to move some things around if nothing naturally falls into place."

"I'll be happy to lend my voice or even come talk to her, if need be." he offered, ever the gentleman.

"I appreciate that, Sy, truly. But I think it would be best not to involve you unless it becomes absolutely necessary. We have several more treatments to get through today, though. You didn't finish on the tread mill, do you think you're warmed up enough?"

"Oh, darlin', I'm plenty warm." he grinned down at her sliding a hand down her side.

"Shit, am I gonna have to start being extra careful with what I say to you until this gets sorted?"

"I really doubt it'll matter, Shane. Ain't much you can say I can't make dirty." she could tell by the satisfaction on his face that this was a point of pride for him.

"Lay down and shut up."

"Yes, MA'AM!" he complied with a little too much enthusiasm. She didn't know whether to roll her eyes with amusement or grow increasingly feral…apparently there was room for both as long as she didn't act on the latter. Yet.

~~~~~~~~

She dismissed Sy for the day, instructing him to behave himself until she gave him the all clear, and even then, if she got the green light to see him outside of therapy, sessions would still be about getting him stronger, and not flirting. Or at least mostly. They settled on a 90/10 ratio by the end. She was a weak woman.

She went into the office where one of the senior therapists, Anita, was still charting and snacking on some pretzels.

"How was your day, Nita?" she asked affectionately. Anita had been her mentor since she started with the clinic over ten years ago, and was now part time, flexing toward retirement. She'd miss her.

"Oh, long, Miss Shane. As they tend to be more and more these days. What about yours?"

"Ah…just…nothin'." she shouldn't go into it all until she talked to Susan, their boss.

"Mmm, that's no nothing nothin', that's a something nothin'. Come on, kiddo. Spill." she offered Shane one of her pretzels and kicked out the chair next to her. Again, she was a weak woman. She took a pretzel, sat, and chewed it for a moment, collecting her words.

"What do you think about…starting relationships with patients?" she searched her reaction for any snap judgement or emotion, but only a narrowing of her eyes occurred.

"Is this about that Captain Sexypants who just left?"

"I'm going to kill Heather. I'm not the one who came up with that nickname and I'm not the one who started the whole having feelings conversation. I was going to be miserable until he was discharged, at least."

"Why would you need to make yourself miserable, Shane?"

"Because the policy. About dating patients."

"Technically the policy only says you shouldn't treat family/close friends if you feel you wouldn't be able to maintain objectivity or would be uncomfortable yourself. But that you should disclose any relationship to your supervisor for review."

"See, what's Susan gonna say?"

"Who cares? The policy is the law. And the board of directors governs the policy. Not her. Tell her in an email if you can't work out a time to talk to her before you see him next. Hell, I sent my boss a memo back when I started dating Ron. And look at us now! 20 years strong."

"No way!?" Shane was flabbergasted. She had never known that Anita's husband Ron had once been her patient.

"Oh yes. I wasn't long out of PT school, my first husband had passed away and I needed an income, so I got my PT license and about a year into working here, Ron got put on my schedule. I knew from the eval, he was meant for me. So I typed up a memo, sent it to Morton, our boss at the time, and told Ron I was free on Friday after work."

"Sy just…I don't know, we have this…connection…a spark. I've never felt it with anyone else."

"Are you concerned that seeing him socially would affect how you treat him here?"

"I'm more worried keeping my feelings for him bottled up while I treat him will get so distracting I'll become less effective."

"Well, then, if you get any push back, tell Susan that." Anita said. "Just be forthright. Honest. And speak with integrity. She'll have no cause to refute it, then. And send it tonight."

"Okay. Thanks Anita. You're the best."

~~~~~~~~~

Shane spent too long, probably an hour, at least, drafting her email to Susan. It read:

To: Susan DeForrest

From: Shane Benton

Subject: Re: Treatment Policy

Susan,

I wanted to bring to your attention a situation that has presented itself with one of my patients. I have been treating him almost exclusively for several weeks now, apart from my week on PTO, and he has progressed to both of our satisfaction as well as the ordering physician. However, we have come to be quite friendly and he has expressed great interest in seeing me outside of therapy. This is something that I too would like to engage in, and I plan to accept the next time I speak with him.

From my understanding of the policy, the only thing that would prevent me from treating him as a social acquaintance would be my own comfort level and ability to remain objective. I have every confidence that my objectivity regarding his case will remain intact. I am also completely comfortable with it, and if that changes, I will transfer him to another therapist. Furthermore, I have no doubts that I will be able to maintain the highest level of professionalism throughout our treatments.

Thank you, and if you feel we need to discuss any of this further, please let me know.

~Shane Benton, DPT

And send…whew. She needed a big glass of wine tonight.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Up Next: Chapter Four- E-Stim

[beautifuldarkmind]

tw // s*lf harm, su*cidal ideation (sorry)

Hey, it’s the creepy NHS anon here.

Thank you for responding to my ask! I’m sorry you had such a rough time getting a diagnosis. You shouldn’t have had to go through all of that. Honestly it sucks that the NHS is so reluctant to diagnose anything mental health related.

When I was 14 I thought I had depression and anxiety. I finally convinced my mum to take me to the doctors when I was 16. The doctor was super nice. She tested my thyroid function just to make sure nothing else was causing my feelings, then referred me to CAMHS. That was…an interesting experience. I remember asking my counsellor to diagnose me, but then at the next session she said she couldn’t, that it “wouldn’t be helpful” because I was still growing. Now that I think about it, one of the days I was at school and during a class I was furious for some reason. I even said to a classmate that I was willing to fight anyone who got in my way. Despite my mum disagreeing with me, I cancelled my appointment that day. (My mum was worried they’d stop my sessions all together if I cancelled, but they didn’t.)

Fast toward to recent years and I’ve been on and off attempting to get a diagnosis. Last year (so when I was about 18) I asked to be referred to the autism clinic, and thankfully the GP accepted, but the clinic is still closed and even when it’s open I’ll still have to wait, possibly several years. Then I made another appointment (different GP) to be referred to a psychiatrist. She refused, saying that GPs are trained to deal with mental health issues. I brought up OCD, so she asked where I got my information from. When I told her I researched it online, she just brushed it off and then did the typical depression/anxiety test and she said both were severe, then said “take some drugs” (which is didn’t because I didn’t trust taking drugs prescribed by someone who did a 3 minute yes/no type quiz without actually fully exploring my issues).

I spoke to a different GP just over a month ago to get a fit note for my Universal Credit. It was supposed to just be to make adjustments to what I was supposed to do, but he didn’t ask what the note was for, so he marked unfit for work. Which is great because that’s secretly what I wanted but feared being judged by people around me for thinking I needed that (particularly my parents). I mentioned that I thought I could have OCD and CPTSD, and he didn’t deny it but he simply said CBT helps for both. He then asked if I was currently doing CBT and I said I’d done it before but I quit. (That’s a whole other story but tldr I really don’t think it was for me, or at least the “therapist” wasn’t.) He said he would send a self referral link.

Fast forward to a few days ago and I had another appointment with him to discuss my fit note (because it only lasts for a month and you have to go back to renew it, which sucks). He asked if I had referred myself to CBT and I said I hadn’t yet because I didn’t want to, and he said “please do that for me” in a somewhat stern voice. I then brought up BPD and I think he said he would refer me? Honestly I was a bit overwhelmed because he called 40 mins early and I was in the car with my dad, so I was super weary of him asking questions about what I was saying to the doctor (but he didn’t). He then brought up PD support groups, which I’m considering doing, but you have to call up the place and I literally hate phone calls. Oh, speaking of which, all the appointments from the autism one onwards were all on the phone, so not only was I struggling to process what they were saying to me most of the time, but I was also so anxious that I couldn’t articulate my feelings properly. :)

Anyways, I am 20 now, which I only mention because I feel the same as what you mentioned. My brother is married, my childhood crush is married, my friend who I introduced to my friend group who then proceeded to discard me is getting married. Everyone seems to know exactly what they’re doing. They all have friends. But not me. I haven’t had friends since I was 14, and even then I don’t think that friend group was entirely wholesome. They made me feel like an outcast, like I was weird, that I needed to be more like them and not be like me. Which has probably contributed to me having a very vague sense of identity. And I feel like I’m still 14 and yet everyone is expecting me to behave like an adult. I’m supposed to know what I’m doing with my life even tho I literally cried in the shop when I was pressured to choose between 2 pizzas.

I have no support system. My own parents seem very dismissive of my problems, equating everything to social anxiety. When I’m stressed out of mind to the point of feeling suicidal, my parents say “that’s just life”, which…well, feeds into the feelings. For years I’ve felt stressed. Then if I’m not stressed I feel absolutely nothing. And if I’m not feeling empty I am angry, sometimes for no reason. And if I’m not angry, I am curled in a ball trying to bottle up the urge to self harm and batting away suicidal thoughts.

It’s like I have a huge chain pulling me down underwater and everyone else is in the beach drinking cocktails or something. Sometimes I thrash and try to get people to notice, but people think I’m just having fun. Other days I just feel like letting the chain pull me down.

Please forgive me for rambling and probably not having a very consistent train of thought in this post. I have a tendency to blab on about my “problems” (if they even are that), I guess as a way to connect? Idk. This post makes no sense.

I hope you’re having a good day. <3

- 🌸✨ (in case I send another ask again, but I’ll try not to because I don’t wanna bother you)

So sorry you're going through something similar. My GP sounded exactly how yours was, the typical anxiety/depression test and then just throwing those at you.. they dont seem to be trained in diagnosing and they dont want to hear anything more either. It's honestly almost impossible getting a diagnosis through them, the system here is really messed up... its just disappointing and seems to be failing so many people including you.

It does sound like you're going through a hard time, it's not nice especially when you feel a loss of self identity, you dont even know who you are and just feel lost in life. I think that was definitely the main point of realising something was up.. I had a VERY distorted view of myself and others around me and that was why I'd often self sabotage everything and then I'd feel so empty and angry at the world and just explode...

If you can go privately then do so, therapists are not able to diagnose and they will usually tell you 'we don't like to label' but even without a diagnosis you can still see if you can access DBT therapy. Amazon also has lots of DBT workbooks that I've used and its helped me to really understand myself!

If you often feel invalidated by your parents then that is known to cause BPD or borderline traits, especially if you've been suffering with mental illness in childhood and they tried to claim that it was nothing....you mentioned anxiety and I was told the approach my parents may have took to my severe anxiety is what brought on many of my symptoms of BPD. You start to feel ashamed of yourself for feeling that way because your caregivers make it seem like the issue isnt important and you feel as if your feelings dont matter also because that is how you have been made to feel.

I'm not saying this is definitely the cause but in my case I was told that the constant feeling of invalidation may be why I have such a warped idea of myself and why I cannot regulate my emotions. I was never told HOW to regulate or shown how to, just told to ignore my emotions and now I dont know how to deal with them😀

but yeah I'd really recommend taking a look at some of those dbt books online or reading more into it so you have a better understanding of yourself. You've already taken the first step and that's identifying that something may be wrong so you are self aware and clearly want to change for the better 💕

I hope everything works out for you, it's not nice feeling this way but you've got this 🥺🙌

[mooncleo]

and we recover slowly, my love, but surely

Fandom: Harry Potter 

Main Pairing: Ron Weasley/Hermione Granger/Harry Potter 

Description:  Ron, Harry, and Hermione live together after the war. It seems like the logical choice, and the next step into comfortable domesticity seems logical as well. They learn and they love and they heal and cope and live and it’s beautiful and painful and perfect. 

Words: 6,893

Edited: Literally not at all sorry guys 

Author’s Note: Good morning to everyone who did not ask!!! I’m gonna double post my fic for all of my two followers, whom I love and cherish very much 🥰🥰

I honestly was not expecting this fic to end up being ot3, that kinda took me by surprise. So did my 2k turning into almost 7k, that was a little bit of fun. 

I’m going to try to put in a read more, if I fail PLEASE tell me I don’t want anyone to have to scroll through everything. 

Read it on Ao3 here. 

… 

It was the cool quiet of the evenings that kept him from even entertaining the thought of returning to London. Nights at the Dursley’s had never been this calm, always filled with Aunt Petunia or Vernon’s yelling, Dudley’s taunts, or the rumbling of an empty stomach, sent to bed without a bite of the dinner that he helped to cook. 

He never went to bed hungry anymore. It was one of his triggers, they found out one night when he’d spent all day working on one of his projects and forgotten to eat- laying in the dark with his stomach beginning to knaw on itself in protest had sent him spiralling nearly into a fully blown panic attack. The Dursley’s had fucked him up, for sure. 

It was not long that they’d been living together in their little cottage that Harry made a joke about cupboards and beds. It was bound to come up eventually, but he had hoped, somehow, to put the ensuing conversation off forever. 

Before they had even gotten into details, Hermione’s eyes had started to water in a way that made him, quite frankly, uncomfortable. “All these years, and we never even knew? You’ve gone home to them every summer! I knew they didn’t feed you very well, but God, Harry. I didn’t think it was this bad." 

He could tell that Ron felt the same way, but he’d never been particularly good at expressing it. Instead, Harry got twice the usual serving at dinner, and Ron’s grip was tight around him when they settled down to watch a movie later.

The next day at breakfast, Hermione brought it up again. She’d started by trying to convince him to file a court case against them. 

"It’s a serious case of child abuse, Harry. They were horrible to you, and they shouldn’t be able to get away with it.” That argument had not gone down well, as Harry had first denied that there was any child abuse involved, however horrible they’d been, and then added on that he had no idea where they’d ended up after the war. He also didn’t really ever want to see them again, though he left that part out. He had a feeling it might not help his case. 

“Well, you should at least go to therapy. It might help you process what they put you through.” She held up a finger when she saw him going to argue and said, “Listen, even if you don’t think the Dursley’s abused you, I still think you should go to therapy. Don’t pretend you haven’t stopped sleeping because of the nightmares, Harry Potter, so help me God. I know what you look like when you’re well-rested and this isn’t it. Those bags under your eyes could carry our groceries. Actually, I think we should all go. It’s not as though you’re the only one who went through a year on the run in addition to all the other fun trauma that comes with war." 

Ron was a little confused about what therapy was until they explained the concept to him and he shouted out, "Mind healers! Oh! Yeah, we have those.” This, thankfully, saved them from the ordeal of finding an either muggleborn or squib therapist so that they could talk about magic without being declared properly insane. 

Harry had been apprehensive about going to anyone who could claim to fix his mental issues- in part because he was half in denial about those mental issues to begin with. Yes, he had trouble sleeping most nights because of nightmares. Yes, he felt guilty about every single death that had happened during the war. Yes, the Dursley’s had treated him horribly for all of his life. But everyone had nightmares because of the war, those deaths really were his fault because they were all fighting for him, and the Dursley’s just hadn’t liked him that much on account of his parents. The hate was mutual, after all. 

It only took one session with his mind healer, Gertha, for him to begin to open up to the idea that maybe he was a little bit misguided. Gertha was an 80 year old witch with gray hair just beginning to pepper her bun, and she took no shit. Her age had given her the grace of being willing to properly fight him when he started to go into a spiral, and she had a dry wit that he appreciated. Halfway through the first time they met, he’d started talking about the war and how it was his fault. Her eagle-eyed stare had stopped him in his tracks, and he’d asked, “What?" 

"Boy, you are taking on far too much responsibility here. You think all those people died just for you? You think the war wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t been around? No! Voldemort was coming back, with or without you- he would have found a way. And just because you were the face of the war, that does not make you the war. A rallying point does not control those who gather around it, it simply exists as a marker, a way to say ‘we are here.’ Those people did not die just for you, you hear me? They were going to fight either way. People don’t like to lay down and give up when their loves and lives are threatened." 

At the time, he hadn’t believed a word she’d said, but he liked the way she said it. It wasn’t quite scolding, more disbelieving than anything else. She also had said that Voldemort was coming back with or without him, even without knowing about the horcruxes. He liked her wit and the easy way she had handled his self-pity. She reminded him a bit of Professor McGonagall, and that in and of itself was a recommendation to him. 

He went back the next week, because she had told him to and he liked her. He felt lucky that he found someone he liked right away, because both Ron and Hermione didn’t like the first Healers they talked to. Hermione had not liked the bright, peppy young witch who was apparently entirely too optimistic. "Her office was covered in little paper flowers, as though she didn’t deal with grown adults. As soon as I mentioned the war she started patronising about how she felt there surely must have been a better option than fighting, like maybe talking. First of all, did she do literally any research before I walked into the room? Honestly, what if I had been just a mite more fragile? Or Harry?" 

"Hey! I resemble that remark!” A pillow found its way through the air in the direction of his face. 

“Don’t interrupt me when I’m ranting. Anyway, she was absolutely insane. 'Why did they have to fight?’ Because when another wizard throws a curse at you, you aren’t gonna just fucking stand there and take it! Good God, woman. I don’t know where she was during the war, but she clearly wasn’t paying any kind of attention to Britain. How did she even get her Healer’s license? Ridiculous.” Hermione took an angry sip of her tea and she and Harry both looked to Ron. 

“Yeah, mine wasn’t as bad as all that. I just didn’t really think he had the type of vibe I’m looking for. Kinda reminded me of my dad, actually. Not really what I wanted.” After sympathetic nods from the other two, Ron turned towards the TV. “What are we planning on tonight?" 

"Right! I forgot completely. The Princess Bride! The librarian was raving about it when I was checking it out, so hopefully it’ll be good.” As Ron was raised in a wizarding household, Harry hadn’t really had much of a childhood by way of movies, and Hermione’s parents had been very strict, the three of them had decided to work their way through iconic muggle films that they’d missed over the years. They’d all liked The Breakfast Club the week before, though they were postponing Star Wars from two weeks ago until they could get through the fight scenes without having semi-simultaneous panic attacks. 

The Princess Bride was a hit, and Hermione liked it enough that she put the VHS on her to-buy list. They wanted to build up their own collection of movies that they liked for rewatching purposes. Hermione had argued that going to the Blockbuster and renting a movie was much more cost effective that just buying all of them outright, since they were trying to get through at least a movie a week. The boys had decided not to argue, as she tended to be right about most things (and was also managing their finances). 

Three weeks later, Ron had found a mind healer he liked, and Hermione was still stuck. Ron never said much about the therapy sessions he went to, while Hermione preferred to rant after hers. “God, it’s like he wasn’t even listening! There has to be at least one healer out there that I can actually talk to with a modicum of intelligence." 

Ron and Harry traded glances. Harry’s look was quizzical, Ron’s was certain. It seemed that Harry would be the one to say it, then. ”'Mione, do you think that there’s a chance that maybe you’re having trouble finding a therapist because you don’t want to give any of them the chance to help?“ 

She was quiet for a moment. "I mean. I had considered it, but. Well. None of them- well. I suppose I may not have been entirely fair with all them. Although I stand by everything I’ve said." 

"Everything you’ve said? Your main complaint about the last one was that she wore a cardigan instead of doing warming charms on herself. You may want to rethink that, love.” Ron’s tone was gentle and amused. It was a good thing, because Harry was fairly certain she’d have bitten his head off if it’d been anything but. 

“Oh. Yes, well. Maybe a tad.” She coloured as she admitted it, and then added, “It was a truly hideous cardigan, though." 

"And warming charms are a rather simple.” Harry mimicked the arch way that Hermione said things of people she looked down on, a voice that only those close to her ever really got to hear. She never mocked people in polite company, but both Ron and Harry knew that she could be properly vicious when she felt like putting in effort. Ron laughed, and then Hermione did too, a second later. They descended into giggles for a few moments before subsiding. 

“Really, though. Your main complaints about her were her clothing, and not the soundness of her advice. Maybe try a second session with her, and see if it was a one off? If the only thing you could come up with was an ugly sweater then she must have been rather on the nose about everything else." 

"Hmmm. Maybe. She did seem reasonably intelligent, actually." 

The matter was concluded for the night, and they all went off to bed. After a night of rest, Hermione felt comfortable admitting that, looking back, it was rather obvious that she had been searching for faults as an excuse not to have to be vulnerable around people she didn’t know very well.

The solution to this, according to her mind healer, would be to get to know each other before starting. Hermione raved about how intelligent the woman was when she got home, and Ron and Harry once again traded glances. They didn’t say anything, but they were glad to have been able to help her find someone she actually liked. Neither was surprised that she was happy so quickly. It had been clear to them, before, that she was searching for faults. 

Their lives went on. Tuesdays became therapy days, and they’d all go out for ice cream afterwards. Eventually, Harry and Hermione ended up back in the workforce. Ron decided to stay home and take care of the house. (He referred to the two of them as his sugar parents, an idea that deeply offended Hermione. Harry thought it was hilarious.) 

Harry had toyed with the idea of going on to become an auror like he’d thought he wanted when he was 15. It did not take him very long to decide that he’d only really come up with the idea in the first place because he’d supposed that his life’s purpose was fighting Voldemort, and the aurors could have given him a leg up in that. With as long as it had taken him to accept that his life had meaning beyond fighting and defeating a dark lord, he wasn’t going to give that up now. 

They ended up spending the entire evening brainstorming when he brought up wanting to get a job. Even if he was never going to be an auror, he was still starting to get restless with all the free time they’d accrued living off the map together. 

"You could be a- a- um, fuck, what’re they called. Bus driver!! That’s a job.” Hermione, rather drunk on her fourth glass of wine, had taken to suggesting whatever came to mind. 

“I don’t drive, I’m gay." 

"Mmmm, you’re just as bi as the rest of us, darling. I bet we could figure it out. Actually, you know what, we should probably get a car.” She was starting to light up the way she did when she had a goal, and Ron groaned loudly. 

“God, I forgot we never even learned to drive. Do we have to? I can apparate half-decently, and so can Harry. We could just practice and then not drive." 

At Hermione’s put-out look, Harry interjected. "I’ll put bus driver on the list, but I don’t know that we need to drive. Where are we going? Half the shit we eat we grow ourselves." 

"That’s right! It’s sus- sustains- no, oh my god, I’m drunk- sustainsabilities. Fuck, I can’t speak. Sustainabilities. Yup, it’s sustainable! We’re helping the environment.” Hermione had, at some point during their conversation, migrated sideways so that she was leaning almost entirely on Harry. 

“'Mione, you have to move. You gotta- lean on Ron, I have to pee.” She snorted and nuzzled slightly further into his chest. 

“Hmmm, you do that." 

A few seconds later, there were snores coming from her frame, and Harry looked over at Ron, who was shaking with silent laughter. "Don’t laugh, I have to pee! Help me move her." 

Harry pushed at Hermione’s shoulder, and she flopped a little bit onto the back of the couch. Ron doubled over in another round of giggles, and Harry hissed, "Ron, I swear to god- if I start laughing I’m gonna piss! You gotta- oh my god- help!" 

At this point, Harry had started laughing and tried to slip out from under his girlfriend. Instead of quietly moving her without waking her, she fell and glanced her head off the arm of the couch. A brief moment of panic ensued, in which Harry and Ron both tried to check on her at once, and only succeeded in bonking their heads together. 

Ron was gasping through peals of laughter as he grabbed onto Harry to avoid falling off the couch. "Oh- oh shit, oh fuck, oh my god. Is- is she- fuck- is she okay? Harry, you fucking idiot, check her head." 

"She’s fine, dipshit. Fuck, that could have been so bad, shit.” Harry had sobered for the moment that it took to remember the diagnostic spell to make sure that Hermione was actually okay, and upon confirmation he sank back into the humor of the situation. 

“Goddamnit, I can’t believe that happened. Good god.” He wiped his eyes and then got up to actually use the bathroom. 

“Don’t get a concussion in there, Harry, the last thing we need is two of them.” Ron called after him, and he responded with a one fingered salute in the general direction of his boyfriend. He heard Ron’s collapse against the couch as he closed the bathroom door. 

It was as he was staring at the green tiling on the bathroom floor that he found himself reflecting on the fact that if that had happened a few months ago, it would have gone much worse. Any injuries sustained by the three of them were largely blind territory that brought back horrible memories for the worst of the months after the war. It was remarkable that they could laugh through it, now. 

When he came out to stick his still slightly damp hands under Ron’s jumper, he found Ron and Hermione curled up together, softly snoring. He smiled and climbed onto their couch next to them, levitating a blanket over the three of them as he went. It was a good night. 

The next morning, he woke up first. They’d ended up tangled closer together in sleep, but he was still on the edge and managed to slip out to start breakfast and find the paracetamol for the three of them. 

Breakfast was quieter than usual, with lots of gestures and grunts when someone wanted something. Wine hangovers were no joke. Later in the day, they went out to the garden together to weed, and Hermione suggested gardening as a potential profession. Harry vetoed, with the reasoning that he got to do it enough at home. 

Ron bounced off that logic to suggest Quidditch, and they had the first of what would end up as their two final options. The other was working as a professor, which Harry took a full week to warm up to the idea of. 

“I don’t know, becoming a professor seems like kind of a big deal. First of all, you’re shaping students’ whole lives, and second of all wouldn’t I need, like, higher education?" 

"Oooh, good point, actually. I believe you would need to get a mastery in the subject that you want to teach, which you can obtain by apprenticing under an expert in the field. I think that was in Hogwarts: A History? It might have come from somewhere else, I’m not sure. As for the other thing, I’ve seen you with kids, Harry. You’re brilliant. I don’t know that you even really need to worry about that quarter." 

"Mate, it might be good for you to get a mastery, actually. They usually discuss them with seventh years at Hogwarts, so I don’t really know much about them. Charlie’s was how he got started in Romania, actually." 

"Huh. That makes a lot of sense, actually. I always wondered if wizards had an equivalent to college, but I was a bit busy worrying about the dark wizard trying to kill me for most of my life, so I never got the chance to look it up.” Harry had actually considered asking McGonagall about it during his consultation on his future, but they’d started talking about Defense Against the Dark Arts exams before he could mention it. 

“Harry, you should write McGonagall about it. She’s always looking for new teachers, and even if you don’t end up wanting to do it, she can give you advice on how to start looking for a mastery, which you’ll pretty much need for most jobs, anyway." 

With that, they’d settled the matter. He wrote to McGonagall, and she replied promptly with an invitation to her office to discuss it in person. 

McGonagall had taken Dumbldore’s old office. Harry had known that she would, as Headmistress, but it still shocked him a little to see the space decorated so differently. Minerva McGonagall was a practical woman, and as such had no need for random devices scattered about the room. He walls were lined with shelves full of books of many kinds, and her fire was roaring. She and Harry sat across from each other in matching armchairs that Harry swore must have had some kind of charm on them, because they were the most comfortable chairs he’d ever sat in. 

"Professor-” Harry started, and then stopped. He wasn’t quite certain how to go about this meeting, on unfamiliar territory. She wasn’t quite his teacher anymore, and he didn’t know how to approach that. 

“You can call me Minerva, Harry. You are no longer my student.” The way she said it was not unkind, but he still felt lightly chastised. “I believe you wanted to discuss how to proceed in finding a career in the wizarding world?" 

"Um. Yes. Well. Minerva- hmmm, yeah that tastes strange. Minerva, I’ve been thinking that it would be a good idea to get myself back out into the world, starting with a job. Ron, Hermione, and I have been fine in our cottage, but sometimes it- I just feel like it’s time. I’m getting a bit restless, I think." 

Minerva looked amused at his rambling. "I know how that feels. Did you know that after Elphinstone and I got married, I took a break from teaching?" 

"Really?” Harry was genuinely surprised, because he couldn’t really imagine Minerva as a house wife. 

“Yes, really. I took a year off to take care of our home and try my hand at being a stay at home wife. A year was about all I could stand, honestly. I ended up going back to teaching the following September, I was lucky enough that Albus had been unable to fill my position beyond a temporary professor. I loved our house and I loved spending time with my husband, but I found it difficult to be alone all day and trying to productively fill my days. I also missed my students with no small amount of fierceness." 

"I definitely know how that feels. We have plenty of things to do but it’s so easy to get distracted without the structure of school." 

"Hmm. Speaking of which, how much do you know about masteries, Harry? I know that you and your peers all missed our usual talks about them, but you are also living with one Hermione Granger, who I am sure knows a fair amount about them through the pure virtue of planning three years ahead at least at all times." 

Minerva said it with humor and fondness in her voice, and Harry chuckled. "You’re not wrong. I know that it’s a bit like muggle college, and that it’s essentially an apprenticeship? I am a little bit confused about what one would do if they got to their mastery and found out that they’d picked something that they actually don’t like as much as they thought they did- for muggles they would just change their major, but if you’re working with one specific person because of their expertise in the subject that you’ve chosen, what do you do?" 

"That’s a good point. Most students have at least an idea of what they want to do based on what classes they liked while they were in school, but many don’t. Towards the end of seventh year, we allow students to start trying out different concentrations. Many will start to work with teachers in subjects that they like to see if they like the subject as much as they think they do. If we don’t have anyone specializing in the subject that they are thinking of, we can, more often than not, find someone who is willing to allow them to tail their work for a week or so to see if that’s something they like. We encourage students to look into at least three different masteries so that they can fully explore their options. This helps most students decide where they’ll end up, but even if you get to where you want to be and then decide that it actually isn’t for you, it’s not nearly as difficult to try something new as it would seem." 

"Good lord, that it a lot of information.” Minerva tilted her head slightly in acknowledgement. “So, if I start where I am now, without any weeks of tailing anyone and a bit beyond graduation, what do I do?" 

"Well, I might suggest taking remedial courses for the year that you missed, to start. It might help some with the boredom that you were talking about earlier, and you are a bright young man. I have no doubt that you will find you can complete the courses in far less time than it would take you to complete a full school year. We thought about offering students an option to complete an extra 'eighth’ year, but ultimately decided to keep Hogwarts at its usual seven years, and instead look into alternate options for them to finish. That September, most of our older students weren’t ready to return to the school anyway. War takes its tolls." 

"Isn’t that just ridiculously true? We were all wrecks for months, rather a bit. In the end Hermione pushed us to start going to therapy, and that helped loads. As for the completing the courses, I think that’s a good idea- I could probably do them with Hermione and Ron, Hermione’s been trying to figure out the logistics of finishing seventh year since it occurred to her that we never did, nevermind the fact that she’s performing spells of that level since fifth year." 

"I’ve been trying to remember that that is a letter I need to send out to everyone, though I keep forgetting. Even this far down the line, we’re still working through castle repairs and damages. There is always so much to do… well, that’s no excuse for slacking, regardless. I’ll have to add it to the list." 

She pulled out a piece of parchment from seemingly nowhere, and began to write on it with a quill also pulled from the ether. 

Harry was deservedly very impressed. "That was awesome, professor- what spell was that?" 

"I am no longer your professor, Harry. That is a useful little spell Filius taught me… " 

Their visit went on, with Minerva imparting far too much wisdom for Harry to ever be able to remember it all. They discussed a wide variety of topics, and McGonagall seriously considered all of the options that he had looked into, and was a particular fan of the quidditch idea. "Even if you don’t end up doing it as a career, it’s an excellent way to stay in shape. Far too many of my students simply stop playing when they decide on an office job, such a shame, and so much wasted potential as well." 

That particular comment sparked a long discussion about the merits of playing quidditch recreationally, which led to them talking about the professor’s league at the school. Harry was shocked that he hadn’t known about it as a student, had never heard it mentioned, and Minerva laughed at him for it. Apparently there were many secrets of the staff and school that students didn’t know about. 

When he left with several biscuits tucked away in a container for travel to bring to Ron and Hermione, he felt better. He was almost entirely decided on what to do for his apprenticeship, and he had a solid plan for his next few years. After the uncertainty of being on the run for a year combined with the certainty that he wouldn’t live past 17, it felt good to know what he was going to do, and additionally know that it had nothing to do with dark wizards. It was rare for him to be anything resembling normal. 

Ron and Hermione listened animatedly to his recollection of the meeting. Hermione was especially delighted to find that they’d have a way to complete their schooling, while Ron was relieved that it was from home. "Gotta be honest, I don’t want to go back to Hogwarts. It’s lovely, and in a special way it will always be home, but I think there are a tad too many memories lurking around corners for me to be completely comfortable there ever again." 

Harry nodded, though he wasn’t entirely certain he agreed. It was something he’d not considered, the memories contained within the school’s walls. Hogwarts was his home, and it likely would always be in his mind, the first place that he ever truly felt comfortable. But with how bad his PTSD had been, and still was on occasion, would he be able to live there? Walk its halls the way he had as a child? He wasn’t sure. 

They started their schooling a month, later, when it became widely available. The three of them were in some of the same core classes, as they’d always been, but they were all taking different paths and therefore most of the time they spent with papers spread out around them at the dinner table that they never ate at were for actual working, not talking. 

Ron was taking only what interested him, just enough courses to be able to get his degree. He tended to finish his work before the other three, and would go kiss the top of their heads as he got up to go start dinner. Hermione had taken as many courses as she could fit, as always. It was almost worse than third year, because the courses weren’t held in person. She had taken that to mean that if she could find the time for it in her personal schedule, she could fit it in. 

Ron and Harry had talked her down from taking all available courses. She’d ended up with a fairly large courseload regardless, but that was to be expected. 

Harry was, as ever, in the middle. He found himself with a courseload he was happy with, a few extra classes that he thought could be interesting, but not so many that he was constantly doing work. That worked out well for him, because he’d taken an herbology elective having to do with the growing of potions ingredients in the wild. It turned out that understanding the ingredients in a deeper sense than just their names was immensely helpful for potions. He’d never been doing better in a potions class without cheating, and he’d also begun to actually understand some of the notes Snape had left in the margins of the stolen book. 

They got through their class work and watched movies and made tea and went for walks and before they knew it, the holiday season was upon them. Their classes all had breaks for Christmas, and they took full advantage of that time. 

"What d'you think we should get Molly this year?” Harry through the question out from his position on the couch, draped across Ron and Hermione’s laps. 

“That’s gotta be some sign of adulthood, having to give your parents Christmas gifts.” Ron’s fingers paused their carding through his hair as he digested the question, and then he resumed. “I bet she’d like some of that cleaner we saw the other day, the one that changes scent." 

"Oooooh, good point. I was thinking maybe some new knitting patterns, actually- I found a bunch in the clearance section in the bookshop we went to the other day.” Hermione started diligently scribbling on the parchment in front of her under the “parents” section of her well-organized christmas shopping/gift ideas list. She turned to her boys to say something more, but as she opened her mouth the tinny sound o a timer going off filled the room “That;s your turn done then, Harry. Scoot." 

"Awww, but I’m so comfortable, 'Mione.” Harry pleaded to Hermione’s uncaring eyes as he heaved himself upwards out of Ron’s lap. Ron scooted down the couch to take Hermione’s place as she laid down to replace Harry. 

“Mhmmm. Well, it’s my turn to be comfortable.” Harry’s fingers found their way to her hair as her quill and parchment floated in the air by her head. “Alright, where was I? Okay. Ummmm, right! Under Molly, I want: "knitting needles, pattern books, and scent changing cleaning spray." 

The quill started scratching across the page as Hermione explained, "The other day over tea she mentioned to me that she hadn’t a good way to organize her needles, and usually has so many projects going that half the time she doesn’t know which ones are already in use and which aren’t. I think we should get her a new set so that she can have doubles AND an organizing system. I’m sure if we look hard enough we can find a case that has an extension charm on it, or we can do one ourselves." 

Ron looked down at Hermione with a smile on his face. "Brilliant. Alright, who’s next?" 

Harry glanced at the parchment hanging in the air to see which space was blank. "Looks like we don’t have anything for Ginny, which should be easy enough. She was complaining about her broom the other day, but I know she likes the model too well to want a new one. I was thinking a broom servicing kit?”

The evening went on like that, and they eventually had at least a rough sketch of what they would be looking for when they went out to do Christmas shopping. They found a fair amount of the things actually on the list, and were able to get suitable substitutes where they couldn’t. 

Their Christmas plans were this: they spent Christmas Eve at Hermione’s aunt’s house. She explained to them that her mother’s siblings had a rotation going, and that next year the three of them would likely be required to come to her parents’ aid with hosting. Her family was surprisingly large, and she told them that they tended not to gather for anything other than holidays. She never talked about them because there weren’t any other wizards in the family. 

They found out that this was not actually true on Christmas Eve, when Ron walked in on one of the cousins changing her kid’s diaper with a spell. It was a rather awkward conversation, while Ron tried to explain that he was a wizard and she tried to obliviate him. Eventually, the truth came out: her cousins were American, and hadn’t been particularly affected by the war. They, in all honesty, had been remarking to each other all night that Harry looked oddly familiar to them, but had been unable to parse out exactly what it was. 

They ended up setting up a lunch date for all of them for later that week before they apparated back to Minnesota. The cousins were very excited to find that there was another wizard in the family, and Hermione was similarly vibrating. 

“I can’t believe, all this time, and I didn’t even know! I knew it would make sense that some of my relatives would be magical, but I didn’t think it would actually happen. I obviously wasn’t going to sniff around and risk them finding out just to see if they really were muggles or not. Oh my goodness, this is amazing. I wonder what schooling looks like in America? I mean, I know the basic principles, of course, but I would love specifics. It’s such a big country, and Ilvermorny is the main school that we hear of, but I’m certain they wouldn’t have travelled that far just for school, that doesn’t make sense, does it?" 

”'Mione, we’re having lunch with them later this week. I’m sure they’ll be happy enough to answer your questions. We certainly don’t know the answers.“ 

Ron nodded as he hoisted the backpack holding their gifts in it higher on his shoulders. They were walking to the closest apparition point. According to Harry, who was using google maps, they were about 5 minutes away. 

"Turn left here. For tonight we should just focus on trying to get ourselves home, I think. Did we end up finishing the wrapping for tomorrow?" 

"Oh shit, I forgot, actually. We ran out of wrapping paper. We only have a few left, but still. Should we find a Tesco and stop in? It’s not too late, is it?" 

"They’re open til 10.” Ron stopped walking for a moment to consult his watch on the time, which read out 9:37 p.m. 

“Alright, let’s go then." 

The tesco had one roll of wrapping paper with lumberjack Santa Claus’s dancing across it with axes. They were not literally dancing of course- there was a Tesco in London with a wizard section where they might have found something similar, but they hadn’t the time to go to it. 

The next day, George refolded his "hot santa claus” wrapping paper into a hat and wore it all through dinner. Molly was too happy that he was smiling to scold him about it, although she did have to excuse herself at one point. When Harry came in to check on her, she was crying lightly into a handkerchief. 

“Oh, don’t worry about me, dear. I’ll be alright- he just- oh, for the love of- he looks very much like his brother.” She blew her nose and took a deep breath. A weak smile graced her face as she looked up at Harry. “It’s hard, still. It’s been getting better, but- well, I didn’t think they could even survive without each other. I used to look at the two of them, always together, always finishing each other’s sentences, and think, god, they’re just like my brother’s, and oh, thank goodness they’ll never have to be apart. I just- I just wish I’d been right.” Her voice broke a little bit on the last word, and she started dabbing at her eyes again. 

“I know. I remember in school, they were always together. No one thought they should ever be apart, but. I don’t know. George is doing- not well, but- he’s surviving. That’s all we can ask of him. That’s all we can ask of any of us, really. I think he’s being happy in Fred’s memory, instead of in spite of it, you know?" 

"Oh, I know, dear, I know. It’s just difficult. I’ll get over myself, I just needed a moment. I love seeing him smile again, it’s like Fred’s back, just for a little. Fetch me a glass of water?" 

Harry nodded and swiftly vacated the room. Even after all his therapy, he was still shit with emotions. He found Arthur and informed him of the situation, sending him back to his wife with the water she requested. He knew that was the right decision when he saw Molly again, tears dried, laughing at something Arthur was saying. Her arm was laced through his, a glass of wine in her hand as she leaned against him on the couch. 

He took a minute to reflect that he rarely saw Molly so relaxed, and especially not since the war. He was glad that they’d healed enough at this point that they could, at the very least, enjoy Christmas. His musing were interrupted when Ron came up to him from behind and hugged him. "We’re going to play pick-up, you’re on my team. Ginny’s pissed about it, come on." 

He turned into his boyfriend with a smile on his face and give him a peck. "Excellent, let’s go crush her." 

Ginny, who was training to be a professional quidditch player, soundly kicked their asses. George and Bill helped too. 

As punishment for losing, Ron, Harry, and Charlie went skinny dipping into the pond on the property, but ended up just getting everyone else wet until they all went swimming together, whooping and laughing. 

It was a good night, and Harry woke up sandwiched between Ron and Hermione. He was content to lay there and wait for them to wake up, listening to their breathing and looking at the rise and fall of their chests. They were here, and they’d made it through- he hadn’t thought they would. In the deepest recesses of his mind, he’d done out the math and he had been so certain that they wouldn’t make it through the war all together- something would have to give. Thank god he was wrong, pseudo death or no. He wanted to be nowhere else than where he was, listening to the Weasley household wake up on a Christmas morning. 

They all got up eventually, slowly stumbling their way into the kitchen as the lure of coffee and sausages called to them. Mrs. Weasley seemed happy to have all of her birds back in the nest. Percy kissed her cheek as he left for work, the only one who hadn’t been able to get the day off. The rest of them sat down to eat. 

Overall, it was one of the best Christmases he’d had in a long time, one of the few that he’d truly been able to enjoy. It was reminiscent of some of his first Christmases at Hogwarts, the first ones that he’d ever known what it was like to get presents that weren’t hand-me-downs or worthless garbage. 

He thought about that feeling of being new to a world of literal magic, and the fact that the most magical part of it all had been that he’d had an out, that he’d been able to get far away from the Dursleys for 9 months. He liked this feeling better. Contentedly settled into his skin, with a wide and bright future set out in front of him. He couldn’t help but think that just maybe, there was nowhere better to be. 

[fashion-fitness-fantasy]

6 Weeks Into My Fitness Journey vs. 6 Weeks Into My Quarantine

I started to use quarantine as an excuse to work on my fitness because despite having so much on my plate to challenge myself mentally, I have nothing physically engaging to do as of now. If I can’t leave my house, then I figure it’s the best time to start trying to lose the weight I gained while being a stressed out student (maybe even go back to my high school dancer self...fingers crossed). There is literally no temptation to eat outside and make unhealthy choices at this point for me, so here goes nothing (it also helps that I live in a home with a family full of vegetarian health nuts, so my options are only healthy at the moment). So, here I am 6 weeks into my fitness journey & my quarantine, and I am 14 pounds lighter, doing yoga everyday relentlessly, and having revelations I didn’t know I needed.

I have gone through nearly 7 straight years of higher education, and still have 3 more to go. First with 3 years of a biology undergrad, then 3 years of PT school, and now 4 more years of medical school. I had so many bumps along the way to getting into medical school and graduating from my other programs, that stress eating became my way of coping with how hard everything had gotten. It had gotten to a point where food was the only solace I had in a world full of monotonous studying, daunting exams, countless failures big & small, and endless critique from professors & admissions administrators, who held the keys to my future in medicine.

Basically, a ruthless education system with a “we’ll gladly break you down, but you’ll have to build yourself back up” philosophy. A system that makes you grovel and beg endlessly, despite all of your merit and hardwork, just to gain access to it...let alone succeed in it. By the end, you’re left in Seligman & Maier’s classic “learned helplessness” state with your self-esteem riddled in the dust. But hey, at least you got the keys to prestige and can feign your stolen dignity by putting Dr. in front of your name. Funny how after knowing the psychological concept, you can still fall prey to it. The only difference is now you know what you’re suffering from, but you have no idea how to bring yourself out of it...which some would argue is worse. But here’s the best part....I brought it all on myself. I could have walked away, but why didn’t I? Oh right! I said it was my dream. Silly me...

So, naturally, the only thing I felt I had in control to make myself happy was food, and I started to gain weight along with my stress. It’s simple math: unhappy/stressed me + fast-food + studying - activity = sedentary unhealthy lifestyle mentally and physically. And one of the first things I learned in PT school, an anthem really: “A sedentary lifestyle will kill you. Movement is medicine.” You can subtract the fast food, and add in activity easily, and you can see results. The problem is to maintain those results and those habits. You have to figure out not only how to subtract the “unhappy/stressed me”, but change it into “happy/balanced me”. I’ve found that this is where most people get lost. Changing a variable in this equation is not as easy as math would make it seem. And, it’s by no means a novel idea. My generation is all about championing mental health. We are all highly aware of the self-care mantra everyone has been touting recently. And yet, having the knowledge to understand it, and being able to use it still proves to be so difficult that most people don’t bother. Or, if they’re anything like me, they start and stop so many times it would make your head spin.

Being a physical therapist and medical student, I feel like an absolute hypocrite. Hell, while going through PT school alone, I felt like an absolute hypocrite. Here I was learning about how to help others maintain not just their fitness, but their health as a whole, and I was directly defying that simple science (and I would dryly laugh with my friends as most of us were guilty of it). But let’s be honest, there is nothing simple about that science. They fool you into thinking its merely just calories in vs. calories out. But, what about the mindset? What about tackling what got someone to that point in the first place? There’s nothing simple about that. They teach us these theories on motivational interviewing and helping someone come to terms with their triggers and setting realistic “SMART” goals. All these theories are fantastic...as theories. Getting yourself to apply them is a whole other battle. And as a PT, getting your patients to apply them, while you yourself find the theories inconceivable, is a layered problem that I don’t even know how to begin to explain. 

When I started quarantine, my body was literally grasping at straws, craving for unhealthy carb-loaded, fried food. I longed for paninis & soups from Panera, large sodas & fries from McDonald’s, burrito bowls from Chipotle, and...well you get the idea. It was a routine for me. Go to school, come back home exhausted, stressed, or defeated from having swallowed the “constructive” (inner me would say crushing) critiques of my professors, and reward myself for my hard day’s work with a fast food meal. In that hour of eating, my misery was sated enough to work for the rest of the day without complaint. It was a system that got me through 7 years of stress. A system I felt guilty about, but don’t worry, because the food quelled that emotion too. At least, it did. Right up until the next morning, when I saw myself in the mirror and promised myself I wouldn’t do it again, only to break that promise that very day. Some days I could keep my promise for a week...even two...and then shit inevitably hits the fan. And suddenly (yet not unexpectedly), I find myself needing to eat out just to stop myself from breaking down entirely. Essentially, I always broke my promise. And just like that I tormented myself in this cycle, each year getting just a little bit worse. So subtle that I couldn’t even see what I was doing to myself.

Those broken promises added up not only to my weight gain but a deep mistrust in myself, which of course, showed up in other areas of my life too. I second guessed myself on the people I surrounded myself with, on clinical decisions for my patients, on exams, on whether I was capable of improving on the critiques I was receiving, on who the hell even allowed me into this field in the first place...??? And with each kind person, each correct clinical decision, each passed exam, each improved critique, and each authority figure telling me I belonged, I gained a deeper fear that the fall I was about to take was now going to be from a higher pedestal. In other words, I developed a severe case of imposter syndrome (a silly term my friends and I joke about having but deep down know it’s not really funny at all).

My triggers, my stress, my pain, and my award-winning cynicism aside, I see this quarantine as a universal intervention to give me time to breathe. I see it differently than what I saw it as 6 weeks ago, when I started. No longer a prison, and more a safe haven. A beautiful pause on a once dangerously high speed car chase of a lifestyle.

I still have a long way to go to get my health back to what it was before my years of higher education weighed down on me (figuratively & literally), but writing this is the farthest I have gotten in a very long time. It literally took a pandemic to uproot me from my unhealthy lifestyle, that I had dug myself into over the past 7 years, but I am happy that something good came out of something so horrific. And hopefully, as the pandemic dissipates, and the world resumes some semblance of normalcy, I can take what I’ve learned in this social distancing era with me.

[nattikay]

.

Just trying to sort out some thoughts, came here cuz not sure where else to do it. Might delete later.

So we’ve had Maisie for almost a week now an honestly, it’s...caused me a lot more stress than I’d expected it to. Don’t get me wrong, I like her, and I don’t plan to give her back to the shelter or anything, good gracious, no--but tbh I feel a little guilty for not being ~euphoric~ over the whole scenario, and I’m just trying to work out why.

Don’t worry she is being well taken care of! This is an emotional issue, not an ability-to-care-for issue.

I think some of it may have its roots in our old cat, Harry Pawter. We got Harry when I was around 9 years old and I loved him. However, being a child when we got him, I was never really super good at taking care of him; most of the animal care wound up falling on my parents. 

Harry, for the most part, was a pretty good cat most of his life, but he started developing health problems around his last two years or so. By this point I was in high school, and for all intents and purposes should’ve been old enough and responsible enough to step in and help take proper care of him. But by that point, I hadn’t really formed those habits and...I never really did. Not as much as I should have. And looking back...tbh I feel really bad about it, and wonder if I didn’t love him as much as I should have, or as much as I thought I did. My dad would certainly imply at much when he got frustrated with the cat, and that...kinda sunk its way into my brain, I guess.

I’ve mentioned before that we lost Harry my freshman year of college, my very first semester. But I haven’t told the whole story, because well...I feel really bad about it. But maybe it’ll be good to get it off my chest.

See, Harry’s health had been declining for a while at that point (he was now 9 years old btw). He was struggling to keep himself clean and having more and more accidents outside the litterbox. My dad took him to the vet, and the vet suspected he may have had a brain tumor. All this was happening recently after I started my first semester of college, so I wasn’t home at the time, only getting this info via phone calls. 

My dad didn’t want to pay for expensive tests and surgeries for a cat, so was considering putting him down. I was obviously not in favor of that idea, so we decided that we’d wait until I came home for Christmas and then discuss what to do about the Harry situation.

But we never got the chance. Around November, there was some sort of leak under the fridge or something (I don’t remember the details; again I wasn’t home at the time) and we had to get a lot of work done in there to fix it, which included having all the tiles completely removed and huge fans placed in the kitchen to blow away the ensuing dust. In order to keep Harry out of the way of the construction, we wound up regulating him to the screened-in back patio (and for further context: Harry had always been an indoor-only cat, and never showed much interest in going outside). Needless to say, on top of his health concerns, this construction and jarring change in environment was probably really stressful for him. One day, he found his way out of the patio...and never came back. 

We...don’t really know for sure what happened to him after that. I like to say that he passed away rather than ran away, partly because he didn’t really have great survival skills and between that and his already-present health issues, well...I don’t think he would’ve survived long as a stray, and I prefer to imagine that his suffering ended as quickly and painlessly as possible. Even if he did manage to survive for a while then, he’s almost certainly gone now, given that he’d be nearly 15 by this point...but I digress.

All that said...idk, I guess I never really got any proper closure with Harry. And the more I learn about how to properly care for a cat, especially doing all the research I’ve been doing for Maisie...well, the worse I feel for him.

It’s not that we were bad owners, per se, and we certainly weren’t malicious in any way...but man, we could’ve done so much better. Harry was definitely overfed and undergroomed and we didn’t really know how to deal with his issues later in life...again, we weren’t malicious, but I think we were ignorant. I can’t really blame myself in the early years given that I was a literal child but by the time I reached high school and the like...idk I just feel like I could have and should have done so much better. I wonder how many issues could’ve been resolved if we’d been more attentive, more vigilant. Had been willing to put in more effort than just “meh fill up his food bowl twice a day and have Dad change the litter once in a while”.

And with all that considered, well...let’s just say I have doubts as to my prowess as a cat guardian. I want to make sure what went wrong with Harry goes right with Maisie and I just...idk. It’s just been a lot more emotional pressure than I expected it to be, even more so considering I haven’t yet quite formed the emotional bond with Maisie that I felt with Harry (not that I necessarily should have expected to at this point, given that we’ve only had Maisie for less than a week whereas we had Harry for nine years). But still.

And I mean, it’s not like taking care of Maisie has been difficult from an objective standpoint. It boils down to just feeding her (and making sure it’s the right amount of food), cleaning her litterbox, and playing with her, all of which are pretty simple and straightforward (well actually trying to figure out the right amount of food for her age and size has been a bit of a chore but I digress). 

Again, it’s not the tasks themselves that are an issue...it’s, I guess, the emotional baggage, or something. Knowing that as my cat the responsibility rests squarely on my shoulders (as opposed to having Harry where my parents took up most of the tasks) probably contributes as well.

Probably doesn’t help that this was a rather sudden development as well. It was only a week ago that we even seriously entertained the possibility of getting a new cat, and now here we are. It all happened so fast, it...almost doesn’t seem real.

Then again, not much has been feeling “real” to me lately. But that’s a separate issue and one for my therapist. :P

I also, despite all objective evidence to the contrary, feel almost like I’m being a burden my bringing Maisie into the house. I know that I shouldn’t...it wasn’t even my idea. My brother made the suggestion, my mom endorsed it, my dad ultimately agreed. The whole family seems to like her, even my dad who is by far the least of a cat-person out of all of us has pet her and talked soft to her (I expected him to mostly ignore her).

But...well, ok, another (shorter) storytime. My parents, while they don’t dislike pets, have had enough of them to last their lives, especially after Harry’s troubled final years, which we kids (regrettably) did not do much to help with despite being older by then. About a year or two after we lost Harry, a family in our church was giving away a bunny for adoption after their two dogs didn’t take well to it. My sister, who has always loved bunnies, begged and begged and begged to adopt it, and after promising and promising to take care of it, my parents finally relented. Alas, the bunny did not wind up being as friendly and cuddly as my sister expected, and after a few weeks she lost interest in it, leaving the bulk of the care responsibilities to our youngest brother (who, to his credit, did pretty well...honestly he’s just pretty good with animals in general, of all types...dogs are his top preference but he’ll happily work with just about anything). Not long later, the poor bunny injured itself, and upon doing some research my parents found that bunnies rarely heal properly from that type of injury (I forget what it was exactly, again I was away in college at the time so don’t recall all the details) and that the most humane option was to put it down. We only had that bunny for a few months.

After that, my dad was (understandably) hesitant to bring another pet into the house, however hard we promise to care for it, cuz last time he relented he got burned and a poor bunny had to suffer. When he agreed to let us get a new cat, he included the (reasonable) stipulation that if it ever seems like we’re not taking proper care of kitty, he’s allowed to make the call to give her up back to the shelter.

Now, I have absolutely zero intentions of pulling a sister-and-the-bunny on Maisie, and I very much plan to take as good care of her as possible. But...you can see how there’s some emotional pressure there, yeah? ^^; 

I feel like I have to be an absolutely flawless owner else I’ve let everyone down and proven that my promises to care for her were just talk. I’m afraid people will get mad at Maisie for doing Cat Things and I’ll take the fall and it’ll be assumed I’m not taking proper care of her because I can’t train her well enough. I’m afraid any inconvenience that naturally comes from owning and animal will by default get pinned on me, that I’ll be at fault because I’m the one who technically owns her, I brought her into the house, were it not for me we wouldn’t be dealing with Animal Inconvenience. 

And yes I know that’s irrational...I know my brain is exaggerating and none of them really expect an 8 month old kitten to have flawless behavior or blame me for it and as long as I’m keeping her happy and healthy it’s fine...and yet...

I don't know.

Pressure, I guess. A big life change that happened pretty suddenly and it’s gonna take a little while for it to become the new normal...I’ve just gotta hang on until it does, I guess...

anyways...

R.I.P. Harry Pawter, 2005-2014

(last picture we ever got of him)

Maisie, I will do my best ;_;

(first picture I ever got of her...which, I am just now realizing, is similar to the last pic of Harry ;n;)

[paketdimensioncomic]

“Also Why would you ask if I consider him being autistic a good or bad thing????” Well erm- I dunno... usually the people I encounter, when they find that you have it, they consider it a bad thing... my classmates make fun of that condition and my parents... they pretend that I was never diagnosed with it- even tho without it, I guess I wouldn’t be who I am. ... I guess it’s mostly cause the vibes I get related to it are usually negative in my offline life . _.

[[More]]

Ah, dont worry I understand that feel

My own parents like to pretend I’m perfectly fine and am “Normal” all the time despite my own diagnosises now that I’m an adult.

Only when it ever benefits or paints THEM as being hindered do they acknowledge any of it.

For example: when I started my therapy just over a year ago, I brought my mom with me cause I was overly anxious for my first session and I wanted the support.

This turned out to be a HORRIBLE idea cause she used it as an opportunity to complain and vent about what SHE thought was best for me (not seeing him OR taking my medications) and how SHE suffered having to raise a child like me before and after I was diagnosed and put on meds for ny entire school life (And remember, she said I DIDNT NEED TO BE ON MEDS). And how the REAL reason I was upset was cause I couldnt decide on what to go back to school for (which she and my dad were FORCING me to do AND WOULDNT SHUT UP ABOUT LITERALLY EVERY DAY EVERY MOMENT SHE COULD GET THE WORD IN)

Then as soon as we left, went on a rant about me not needing therapy OR medication and that I was perfectly fine and “normal”

Needless to say that during my next session, my therapist was completely understanding and expressed sympathy over my having to deal with her behavior.

Which has not changed in the slightest since that day, for her OR my dad. Even when Ive improved immensely, keep expressing dissapointment every time I go to a session or bring home prescription refills and say I’m FINE, that its just IN MY HEAD, and that I DONT NEED any of “that crap”.

But I’m getting off topic:

Having autism or any kind of mental illness isn’t something that can just be labeled as “good” or “bad” in a black and white manner.

It’s just something that people have, like allergies, that those of us disgnosed (or even not) have to live with.

We just also have the misfortune of having to deal with these types of people =A=

[organized-chaotic-disaster]

@jambudweek Day 2: Singing and/or Humanity 

A Private Performance

Steven’s therapist suggests he turns to music as an emotional outlet after seeing the video of him performing “Never Giving Up.” Unfortunately, he has a difficult time in doing so, until Connie shows up.

Word count: 1,623

Post-SUF

(A little late into the day, I know! Honestly didn’t know if I was gonna finish this on time in the first place, let alone post it. It’s the first fanfic I’ve written in a few years, so please keep that in mind. It was fun, though! I hope you enjoy!)

(If you want to see more writing content from me, either snippets from my original work, or possibly more fanfiction, feel free to visit my writing twitter!)

“Hey! So, uh… my name is Steven Universe! Ah, you already know that, obviously… uhhhhh… sorry I haven’t really uploaded in a few years. My life got pretty crazy a couple years back and—uhhhhh… I just didn’t have the time to. Ah. Make more videos. Or anything. But! Ah… w-well, my therapist told me I should write a song about my feelings, you know, use it as an outlet? She saw my video from a few years ago, where I played that one song I wrote… I-I’ve had a lot on my mind lately and, uhhhh, she said it would be really healthy for me to—NO! This is too weird! I can’t do it!” Steven groaned in frustration, hands covering his face. Why had he let her see that video? He should’ve known she would suggest something like this…

“Steven?”

“Connie? Aw, jeez, what time is it?”

“11:30?” Connie walked into the house, one eyebrow raised. “That is when we agreed to meet up for lunch, after all.”

“I know, I’m sorry, I just… lost track of time, I guess.”

Connie glanced at the camera pointed at Steven, then turned back to face him. “Are you… recording a video?”

“Yeah,” Steven said, blood rushing to his cheeks. He rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed to be caught trying, and failing, to film for the first time in years. “My therapist said I should try using music as an outlet again, so I wrote a song, and I was going to record it and everything, but it just… feels so weird, you know?”

“How do you mean?”

Steven crossed his arms and looked to the floor, feeling awkward with Connie’s probing questions and determination to not break eye contact. “I mean, I haven’t uploaded in years, and the first thing I do is dump all my feelings? I mean, sure, nobody knows the context, which in a way is kind of nice, it keeps some of it private, but also… isn’t it all weirdly personal?”

“Don’t musical artists tend to get all weirdly personal… literally all the time?”

“Yeah, but they’re used to having no privacy. I mean, that’s kind of their entire life, Connie.”

“Whoa, whoa,” Connie raised her hands in defense, shaking her head. “No need to get defensive, Steven. I’m not attacking you; I’m just trying to help you out.”

Steven sighed ashamedly. “I know, I’m sorry. It just feels like… I don’t know, I feel like I’m telling the whole world all my most personal feelings. Isn’t it fair to be at least a little intimidated by that?”

“I mean, yeah, of course it is. But isn’t that the whole point?”

“Huh?”

“Well,” Connie said, “one of the biggest issues you’ve had is being open about your feelings, right? Maybe this is your therapist’s way of helping you get more comfortable with it.”

“I mean, maybe…” Steven said, his tone unsure, though his mind was making the connections. “But it’s still a bit much, don’t you think? Showing this to the whole world and all, that is.”

“Sure, it seems like a lot, but this isn’t supposed to be easy. It’s normal to be scared, Steven.”

Steven was about to respond with some sort of sarcastic or moody remark but stopped himself. She was right, after all. But something still stopped him. Just because he knew it was supposed to be scary didn’t change the fact that he had so many butterflies fluttering around in his stomach that he wanted to throw up. Sure, he knew full well that he was supposed to be facing his demons or whatever, but facing the monster within yourself was a completely different story from facing the monsters within others, literal or metaphorical.

“… Steven?”

Right, Connie was still there and expecting a response. What could he say?

Sighing, Steven resigned himself to just telling her the only thing he did know: “… knowing it’s supposed to be scary doesn’t make it any easier.”

Connie’s face had a soft expression, one of kindness and understanding. She pondered his statement for a moment, eyebrows wrinkling in thought, before finally saying, “if it makes it any easier… maybe you could sing just to me?” Realizing the intimacy of what she’d just suggested, her face became flushed and she looked to the floor. “Only if you’re comfortable with it, of course! I just thought that focusing on one person—”

“That… might actually help.” Steven said.

Even though she was the one who had the idea in the first place, Connie looked surprised. “A-are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Steven shrugged. “I wanted to share this with someone, but immediately sharing it with the whole world might be a bit… too much. I think that sharing it with you would be okay, though. Baby steps, right?”

“Oh,” Connie’s shoulders relaxed and the colour in her face returned to normal. “If it helps, then I’ll just… sit right here?” She made her way to the couch and took a seat, brushing off her skirt while she did so.

“Yeah, that’s perfect!” Steven readied himself again, ensuring his guitar was tuned properly and putting his fingers in the right places. His hands still shook ever so slightly, but having her there made it easier. He already felt like some of the butterflies had peacefully left his stomach, easing his nerves. He found that he could even put on his cheery persona again, if with some effort. “Now, without further ado, here’s Being Human!”

His fingers began to dance on the guitar strings, perfectly hitting every note after all the hours it took to write them just right. He was grateful for the song’s somewhat lengthy intro because his throat was still tight with anxiety, even if he was only singing to Connie. He tried breathing deeply, just like his therapist had taught him to, before finally beginning to sing.

“Just a little time,” he sang. “Just a little something else instead.” He looked up to see Connie’s fingers tapping along to the music. “Just a little time.” The thought of Connie enjoying the song gave him a light feeling that bloomed in his chest, encouraging his song. “Just a little something up ahead I’m dreaming of.” He closed his eyes and tilted his head down, absorbing himself more into the music. “Being… being… human…”

He continued to play, glancing at Connie every now and then to gauge her reaction. All seemed to be going well; her fingers continued tapping, and she even bounced her knee to the beat at one point, until she noticed him looking. As for Steven, he poured his entire heart and soul into his performance (as one always should), and by the end of it, tears pricked his eyes. When his fingers strummed the last chord, he noticed that he felt much lighter than he had for a long while. He did another mental check of his insides, in which there was no butterflies to be found. Well, except for one…

Connie was clapping, exclaiming “Steven, that was great!”

… and that last butterfly was gone.

“You really think so?” Blood rushed to Steven’s cheeks again, this time not in embarrassment, but in flattery.

“Yeah! I mean, I know that it doesn’t matter how good it is, that’s not the point, but it really was a great song.”

Before Steven could process what was happening, Connie rushed over and hugged him with all her strength. His face became hot from the surprise and the joy it brought him. His arms rose to wrap around her, never wanting to let go. He closed his eyes, savouring the moment, but realized he’d seen something he shouldn’t have seen before he’d done so. Slowly, he peeled his eyes open, praying it wasn’t true, but…

“… aw, jeez, I was still recording.”

“Huh?” Connie said, confused, before she turned her gaze to where he was looking. Surely enough, the red button that indicated the camera was recording was on.

“Argh, I’m such an idiot! I’m sorry, I should’ve—” Steven cut himself short, because Connie was… laughing? “Hey, are you laughing at me!?”

“No, no!” Connie stopped, but it was clear she was struggling, as she kept supressing snorts and chuckles. Before long, her composure broke, and she burst out laughing yet again. “Okay, you’ve gotta admit it’s a little funny.”

“What is?”

“Just the fact that you were all anxious to record yourself singing the song and didn’t even realize your camera was still on when you eventually did manage to do it under the guise that it was a private performance.”

“… okay, you got me there. I’m not keeping it, though!”

“Oh, come on!” Connie pleaded. “Can I just have it, then?”

“Why do you want it? I’ll probably just record it again and post it anyway.”

“Sure, but…” Connie paused for a beat, finding her words. “That’s the first time you ever performed that song for someone else! It’s special, I wanna keep it!” When Steven didn’t respond, she persisted. “Pleeeeaaaase?”

“Fine,” Steven said, before immediately adding, “only if you buy my lunch!”

“Okay,” Connie rolled her eyes. “A small price to pay for a rare recording of Steven Universe performing his latest hit!”

“Yeah, whatever, you dork,” Steven said. He had a playful glint in his eye, realizing he could take advantage of her newfound victory. “I’ll race you to the dondai!”

“Wha—Hey!” Connie cried when Steven pushed her off, getting his completely unfair head start.

Naturally, after their debate over ownership of the tape, the couple had forgotten to turn the camera off, leaving its battery to die after recording hours of literally nothing but a forgotten warp pad and guitar.

[dulharpa]

this is for hayley! @whistlingwillows a dear friend <3333

it’s meant to be a birthday present haha. i just want to shower you in love;;; so thought maybe i could go through as many of your fics and comment on them :^)))

(TO EVERYONE ELSE: please go to @whistlingwillows blog and read her fics!!! they are SO FCKIN GOOD AND AMAZING AND UGH HER MIND (it’s a lot of mcu and her bucky and steve fics are a*. i DEFINITELY RECOMMEND))

i wish you a VERY happy birthday and i hope we stay friends for many more years <3333333333 

i’m going through your masterlist heehee ;)))

ah first off, nice theme! i never could rlly see it before because i’m always on mobile heehee. also sorry for not reviewing them before??? i don’t usually read fics on tumblr as you’ve probably guessed;;

anyways, IM GON REVIEW THE SHIT OUT OF THESE >:DDDD

far from home -  bucky x stark sister!reader

firstly, i like how youre introducing the reader from buckys pov, like you can sort of already gather what shes like from them

‘Bucky can hear Tony’s soft inhale, feel the intensity of the man’s glare directed at Steve. He shouldn’t be eavesdropping, but a twitch of muscle would be enough to alert both men that he’s here. With the amount of tension crackling in the air, a brush against the wall would be equivalent to a thousand cymbals crashing in cacophony.’

IM CRYING ALREADY. the imagery in here is GLORIOUS. your tone here is so fitting! oo and the alliteration here is perfecto

ooooooo!! the backstory coming in  👀👀

‘despite what some people think that Steve and Captain America are two different personas, there will always be parts of Steve in the Avenger, and parts of the Avenger in Steve. They both want to believe in something good. They are, after all, one in the same.// Just as how Bucky and the Winter Soldier are the same man despite everything. HYDRA simply amplified the hate, fertilized the seeds of rage, curated the quiet thunder within his soul, within James Buchanan Barnes so that the Winter Soldier could thrive.’

yIKES! lol this is very character study like! nICE. it hurts tho, my poor children, i love you both 

oo ‘starlight eyes’ that is a very nice way of describing them

‘“Then what was London?” The protesters. “São Paulo?” The earthquake. “Vancouver?” Freezing cold water.//“Look, I care if Stark’s gonna run us over trying to find her. I care enough because she’s part of our team. Come off it, Steve. I know she can take care of herself. I’m gonna take a nap. Dr. Cho said no partying post-Singapore and what do you know, we throw the biggest party ever.’

ooo singapore uwu and london? (coincidence? haha jkjk) and the hints abt reader and buckys background are so good?? but so annoying??? like i just wanna KNOW yknow?? 

‘The water runs copper and the sting bites at his palm as he tries not to think. Tries to focus on the numbing cold that runs over his skin.’ 

your imagery is so vivid?? im actually in awe??? i am so regretful i havent kept reading your fics. like i know they are amazing, i just keep putting them off??? idk man. hopefully this makes up for it (gd tho, im still not done with commenting on one fic. this is what im doing with my motivation teehee ;)

‘ He feels weak. Tired. He wants to go back to bed but he also wants to stay out in the sun for a few hours more. The sun kisses his skin through the windows and he squints against the blue sky, wondering ‘

mood during this quarantine lol

‘“Oh, right.” Your voice is flat, uninterested, cold, as you stare at him. “You killed my parents.”Shit.‘

 OUCH LMAO THATS C O L D, O GOT +100 PHYSIC DAMAGE FROM JUST READING THAT

ooo robin as a nickname noice. very much gives me batman vibes lol

oh! and the way of doing the ‘flashback’ is neat! very original. it both tells us what happened AND buckys reaction to it again. he can re-analyse himself and reader. very cool

‘If you walk away now, don’t bother coming back!” Silence. Bucky can hear his own strained breathing, your soft sigh as you soaked in his ultimatum.’

👀👀 yikes that ultimatum. :// not good bucky. tbf theyre both trying to hurt each other but Yikes

eyy!!! readers pov!! finally! and the switch after we find out the outsiders pov? brilliant

oh no :(( more angst

‘When’s the last time you saw your therapist?”“Don’t have one. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”’ they BOTH need therapists;;;;

very good fic!!! :DD they rlly do hate each other! i definitely like how you went back and forth with the timeline! it gave me a v strong idea on what yn was like even before we rlly got introduced. i am now very curious on where reader is? i love your characterisations! 

i will read the 10k+ fics but heck the last one took me ages lolol (i will comment in the future tho!! i promise <3 ) (that took me over an hour jjhghgdjh)

slipping away- amnesiac modern bucky x reader

omg,,, AMNESIA! >:DDDDDD

‘ Put your fucking seatbelt on’

oh no, istg theyre going to have a car crash arent they (’ doesn’t put the seatbelt on to spite you.’ NO PLEASE PUT IT ON U DUMBASS)

ok,,,,, at LEAST he put it on before he got hit, thank heck. but still. youre so cruel to your poor characters lmaoo

oh gosh

‘You fall apart slowly, like pieces of you peeling away until you’re nothing more than your broken heart. The sobs that wrack your body are relentless and you shove your forearm into your mouth to muffle your cries. You want to bite into your skin. You want to distract yourself from the agony tearing you to shreds. You want to feel anything but the pain.///Tears sweep into your hair, cloud your vision and your whole face floods with heat as you try to breathe through the pain. You’re cleaved into pieces on that bed, eyes squeezed shut as the tears keep flowing, and your throat burns’

this hurts damn, it is so vivid?? i can really feel it 

i am so glad you got into writing yk?? so glad

NO PLS, TELL HIM. TELL HIM :((( ‘shes nice once you get to know her?? shes known nat for years now!! years!!

oh god ‘he looks younger without the burden of your time together’ this is so angsty omg

‘Well, he was stumbling through his apology and I just let him finish.” Your body fills with warmth as you remember his embarrassed smile, the way he shoved his baseball cap farther down his head, chin tucked to his chest, trying to hide that face. “When he was done, I opened my mouth to say something polite but what came out was ‘You look like someone I’d very much like to kiss’.”

this is so soft i stg im crying in the club

OH SHITTTTTTTTTTT , you left it off like that!!! thats so cruel!!!! i can’t!!! how dare you!!!! :””””””((( im typing this with tears in my eyes ill have u know!!

anyway!!! very good fic!! you could honestly make that into a longfic very easily lol. i felt too many emotions :(( 

i was just about to say where is the fluff!! where is it!! when i saw the next one and yay :))) pls i cant have more angsty stuff rn

.

cookies and rings and things bucky and reader

‘how much do you love me?’ ‘count the snowflakes, multiply by a million’

did you have to start the fic off with such a SOFT line? its so soft! so TENDER 

‘He wonders what kinda insane person wears socks without any clothes on, but then decides that it’s the kind of person who’s fallen in love with him.’  jesus, the soft moments filled with love are the greatest <3

you can write fluff so well, whyd you have to pain me with all that angst ;””””) (1/10 hurt, 9/10 comfort is the way to go lolol) (jkjk ill read the angsty ones too when i have the spoons) (gonna reread that hydra steve one and ik thatll fuck me UP)

‘ Then, he can feel the cold metal of the ring she slid onto her own finger less than twenty-four hours ago and realizes that he had thought a lot of things shouldn’t be possible, and yet they still are. ‘

you literally brought me to tears reading this softness, you have truly found my weakness

‘ She’s so damn gorgeous with flour on her face and eye bags beneath her eyes that he’s sure she will inevitably make his heart burst ‘

he already likes her so much! i can’t believe this is affecting me so much :’)

‘Bucky is quite sure Sam is in love with his girlfriend in the fact that he’s in love with the fact that his girlfriend is possibly in love with Bucky’

this is so soft??? sam loves reader bc reader loves bucky sm. pls my hear <3333

you do fluff SO WELL DAMN 

‘F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice echoes in his small little perch and he still thinks it’s weird without having the side effect of Stark in his suit chasing after him to hear the A.I. but he shoves that uncomfortable feeling of the dead man out of his head. That is too much regret to unpack right now on a mission. ‘

yike bringing back that reminder oof

but thats so soft??? (i am def overusing soft but,,,,, i love it and the vibe) she sent him cookies! god i can feel the love  

‘She expresses her feelings through cooking, which Bucky has learnt the hard way. One time, they got into an argument over something stupid—he can’t even remember what started it—and came to the kitchen at 2AM to see her sitting at the kitchen island crying her eyes out and surrounded by baskets of muffins.’

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 my hEART

you show how much they love each other in so many ways??? i am dying

“Alright, I like it.” Rolling his eyes, he pecks her forehead and she smiles victoriously. It’s so adorable that Bucky, with less than three hours of sleep, adds, “God, I want to marry you.//”“What?”//Oh.Shit.

oh my god! i am literally tearing up!!! AGAIN!!!!!!!!

oh shit o am literally crying

your fluff got me crying harder than your angst i hope youre happy

I really hope you enjoy reading this?? i keep forgetting to like text you but i wanted to do something for your birthday. especially in quarantine when everythings gone crazy. one year i swear ill do something REALLY good for you. not making promises bc i hate if i dont. but ill like, learn how to podfic because you D E S E R V E  I T 

ive spent like three hours doing this lolol 

thank you so much for everything hayley!

[ca1e70-deactivated]

a list of my entirely way too niche headcanons ive actually implemented for everyones imagination:

name options ive used and refuse to retire: david elizabeth strider (sometimes i dont feel like being a douche to others and saying thats not his name), harley davidson strider, and david james strider for the sake of simplicity

im not gonna tell yall the like. oc exes ive given him bc thatll take eighteen years. 

i dont rlly have an explanation on the ghost thing besides the fact he just can? ive occasionally pulled from family ghost stories and experiences bc i somehow got landed with family members who lived in a haunted house for a decade and enjoy scaring me with all the stories (including the time my cousin literally died on the kitchen floor from a bronchial spasm and one of the friends that was over asked my aunt later what was up with the old man she saw in the corner of the room that night - my cousin is fine btw shes just a huge bitch and a third grade teacher and i dont like her)

whether or not hes done drugs is based on absolutely nothing besides how im feeling in that moment. either hes the designated driver and sober friend forever or he got fired from his job after doing a line at work during graveyard with some random customers theres no inbetween (this absolutely happened @ waho. if dave works at waho hes a mess of a person and thats on the diner itself.)

ok look i hc dave w/schizophrenia besides when i was 14 i had a hyperfixation with learning about it and then at 16 was prescribed a medication and had side effects so wack my therapist genuinely thought 14 yr old me was onto something and its a weird way to cope with the idea that lady put in my head that i might “develop it in my twenties” which i turn 20 this year and i havent been able to stop obsessing and panicking over the prospect so PLEASE dont come in my inbox calling me ableist im not out here all harley quinn in suicide squad with the voices ok hes medicated, he goes to therapy, the hard fast delusion that lil cal was nearly sentient and informed bro of every single thing dave did no matter how asinine it was is no longer a debilitatingly affecting him ANYWAYS

i actually use the chicken/egg farming family pretty often just because its hilarious to me to give dave like. an actual mom and dad. hes literally an uncle to like three different kids he just never visits because they make fun of his skinny jeans and he hates one of his (incredibly bare-bones ocs all of them) brothers who threatened to bash his head in with a little league bat after dave broke his star wars lego set apart on accident (but not rlly) so their parents were like “why dont you stay with your brother in the big city for a lil while champ” and then they just never picked him back up? and thats on favoritism 

the other one is that his name is actually david reed and hes the middle child of a family of three who literally live the standard golden retriever white middle class life only they went to disney land or something equally as dumb one year when dave was like 6 and he wandered off so bro literally just went “huh free game” because frankly he was an idiot who thought maybe i should take this kid home because its real dangerous in parking lots and then it was too late to NOT have it seem like a kidnapping and thats why daves never had a summer job, seen his birth certificate, or gone to school. but vaguely remembers what kindergarten was like and having a pet dog and calling someone mom as a kid. 

im not making a bullet point about his sex life headcanons just use your imagination and acknowledge the fact bro essentially worked within the sex industry and i enjoy putting dave through trauma as a catharsis 

i stopped doing this one usually but if he did go to school hes been in percussion since fifth grade and played the drums in his high schools jazz band as well as various edgy teenager garage bands he likes to pretend dont have a youtube presence and that hes absolutely never been shirtless in front of plenty of his classmates because he wore a hoodie to a show like an idiot. idk occasionally ill put him in an actual band he doesnt hate but keeps separate from his lil turntechGodhead internet persona (which i will ALSO touch upon in a sec) until they wind up getting looped into a tour with some bigger named band that has a show in *insert beta kid here*’s city and hes gotta come clean solely so he can visit his online friend. sorry derseasterous thats the one time weve ever run into each other and i made him have a crush on one of his bandmates i was in my anti-daverose phase where i made dave a hoe and also didnt want to admit i still loved the ship all these years later 

i hate it so much but you know the whole vr loli trap voice shit that was popular a while ago? hes fucking baller at it for some reason. he did it as a joke while talking to bro and they both about shat their pants. if im feeling real ambitious, hes got a separate soundcloud solely dedicated to doing dumbass rap covers or making his own but in the voice under the pseudonym elizabeth “beth” davids that he will never admit is his. well, he will, but hes gonna be really fucking embarrassed about it. irony or not.

talking abt seperate soundclouds and stuff ive always had it where turntechGodhead was his like. essentially internet fucking persona facade shit he used because we all had that phase where we wanted memorable urls and stuff but also didnt want to totally ignore the nagging fear of people finding you in real life, until it turned into real life ppl finding you on the internet. so he also has basically an adjacent set of social media under the same name but its just a boring username i havent decided on so everyone he knows irl doesnt mix up with what hes made for himself as TG and the people he knows as TG dont know what highschool he goes to. (this occasionally comes with the territory of ppl on parp being pissed that daves “lying” or “hiding things” from his friends as if he was doing it out of spite instead of just keeping embarrassing tagged photos and videos from football games or when he ate shit at the skatepark from fucking with his “rap career”)

every once in a while i get on a kick where hes just german. like, i just replace houston texas with hamburg germany and have him apply to a university in whatever state is applicable for whoever im chatting with and it goes from there? sometimes he moved when he was little and went through the whole visa thing, sometimes he didnt go through the visa thing, sometimes hes a dual citizen because of family and shit, its all dependent on what suits the situation best. 

one that ive been fucking with for a while but hardly break out (until recently with like 5 roses in the span of one day hell yeah) is that he has a neighbor at the end of the hall who is like a thousand year old witch lady that hes basically adopted as his mother figure in lieu of not having one and shes totally cool with it, especially bc when she kicks the bucket she fully plans on giving dave all her occult stuff so her figure-skating coach and realtor daughter doesnt sell it at a garage sale and lets it all go to waste. she also once brought rose up by name in a conversation without any prompting of her existence which dave didnt realize for days, and then one time cryptically stopped and stared at an empty space in the wall, went “she has potential, you know.” then looked at him sitting on her kitchen counter with a smile “lots of it” and hes thought about that weekly ever since. (it is important to note one of the occult items he leaves her is literally her own personal book of shadows shes been filling out for decades its like a 600 page leatherbound book dave has no idea what its used for but the sheer amount of homemade spells and etc in it is like. gonna murder rose the second this chick gets her hands on it i promise you.)

theres the standard strife shit? im not rlly gonna get into those theyre all basically cookie cutter bullshit. its just standard bro and dave abuse talk. i like to inclulde the whole 24hr live cam up in the apartment that definitely watches dave in every room besides his own and the bathroom, but that quickly delves into the prospect of middle-aged men stalking him online and basically sexually harassing him in his own god damn home by talking about how they can see him just trying to take his shoes off in the living room after getting home and frankly? its not one of my best takes! but once you throw it into the headcanon bin, its there forever. 

he actually really does do something with his photography but not enough to warrant anything exciting, but he has his own branding for it and regularly takes pictures of his friends or anything else he thinks is moderately interesting enough to take pictures of, but those are just thrown into shoeboxes under his bed in favor of posting genuine shots because he wants to keep his image intact and blurry photos of jade smiling in the tree they climbed up together while bec paws at the base of it while whining isnt exactly something he wants the whole world to see.

i also pretty often but him into either paleontology OR i put him down as trying to become a mortician because he thinks handing roadkill once he graduated from museum giftshop specimens to doing his own taxidermy on the side has prepared him enough to perform an occasional autopsy and start embalming real human corpses. (sometimes i put my own desires in and make them his bc i have to project at some point and put him through the same EMT course i dropped out of bc it was one semester and he already has pretty decent first aid skills, but he definitely didnt expect it to be as fucking wild at times as it is, but whats he gonna do? get a job back at waffle house? the company hes working for just offered to pay like half his associates in paramedicine tuition and hes already got all his pre-recs done when he started for paleo. at least its a stable job and hes got the ability to be compassionate in the moment) 

im running out of things that ive done to the poor kid. OH 

hes not a virgin he had a girlfriend all four years of high school (shes also one of his optional and designated exes plz keep up) and their relationship ends in one of two ways: she dies in a car accident a week before their high school graduation, or she stops talking to him entirely a week after their high school graduation until a couple years later she gets into (guess what) a car accident with her current wife/girlfriend and dies which leaves behind their daughter. who just so happens to also be daves daughter. her name is hannah and i love her like my own but no one ever likes her and thats on the conditioning of dirk. does dave end up taking her in? yes. shes awesome and the first time he takes her to the park to like run off some fucking steam she disappears for two minutes and dave is moderately terrified until she comes back holding a dead baby squirrel and thats the moment he realizes huh maybe things really do be genetic.

ok at the bottom of the list im gonna add the couple of times hes been a camboy which usually coincides with the live apartment cam thing and the amount of people in his dms calling him hot or whatever, but typically its more of a started the day he turned 18 and basically dipped around 20 in favor of showing up randomly with no warning to complain about a video game dick in hand because it gives him an outlet that wont annoy his friends bc this is the fifteenth time hes had a lot to say this week about a certain boss battle and also the comments fuel his ego and daddy issues.

the last one wasnt the bottom but literally unless its explicitly proven otherwise every time anyone rps with me there is the underlying fact dave strider was a goalie on his high school lacrosse teams all four years and (shocker another one) definitely had the hots for one of his teammates like major hots like first gay experience hots. like it was painfully obvious that teammate also liked him back hots. like one night at a team sleepover one of the other guys was like can yall just makeout and get it over with were fucking tired and dave really had the balls to be offended and ask what the fuck they were talking about while literally sitting halfway in the mans lap bc for some reason they had to share the same chair. 

he is also guilty until proven innocent of being the worlds biggest loner outside of that sports team and even though hes literally a jock he still opts to eat his lunch alone in the hallway or something like that and has a tendency to leave girls on read, but bc hes got an in with the rest of the jocks hes basically drug around to plenty of parties and since hes conventionally attractive enough and popular in the aloof way that he is, hes got plenty of tagged insta posts and twitter directs and snapchat streaks going. 

THESE WERE ALL NO GAME AND DONT INVOLVE SHIPS BC I LIKE TO KEEP MY OPTIONS OPEN AND THEYRE LITERALLY ALL BASED OFF RPS IVE DONE I HOPE YALL JUDGE ME ACCORDINGLY