#never understood sarcasm and got overwhelmed easily

[lycoryspreachin]

guys i can't BELIEVE what i just fell upon, a 7,5k words fic i wrote when i was fifteen ( and never finished ), it was all from regulus's pov, and overall really not that bad ?? here's an extract :

We feel a longing for the tragic, and it's beyond us, truly. We can neither stop it nor satiate it. The broken, the traumatised, those who have seen everything at a time too early, the weird, the monstrous. Some are born with tragedy in their souls, a forgotten twin never meant to be born. Sirius Black, Sirius Orion Black, the blood traitor, the disgrace of the most ancient and noble house of Black. Older brother of the youngest son of Walburga and Orion Black, could his younger brother have been the unwanted tragedy? Where Sirius shined bright in the sky, true and bold, a sincere light emanating from deep within him, Regulus Arcturus Black was made a constellation, a complex alignment of stars, too close to be their own and yet too far to be one, a fragmented star, its edges sharp and hard, hardened by the hardships of life. Each star utterly alone in the void of the universe, all different and still you cannot see one and not look at the others.

Naturally, when one exists in the vicinity of a light as blinding as Sirius, one can only survive within the shadows. The forgotten child, one born from pain and hatred, surrounded by malice and viciousness, with thick black ink intoxicating his veins, mixing with his blood, poison infecting the core of his being, running through his already decaying body and soul. He was vowed to a life of suffering doomed from the very beginning. When you grow as a member of the noblest of houses, you quickly understand you get a very limited amount of choice. In a world in which one lives in the illusion of control, Regulus had to learn how to embrace it and set rules of his own. He can't escape his blood, but he can certainly hide from it. Their cruel and depraved claws could not shred what they could not see and Regulus was determined to make himself undetectable. It was a flawed plan, one in which you lose yourself the longer you follow it, but it was the best one Regulus could think of when way too young he realised it wasn't a family he was born into, but rather a nest of vipers. 

Growing up, loneliness was the only company the youngest son could afford, amidst loud voices and bitterness, a thick presence would be felt. Despair and agony would shape themselves into long dark figures of shadows and smoke. They were scary, their presence haunting. They would set an eerie atmosphere which seemed to sink under Regulus's skin, leaving behind slim scratches beneath his pale carcass. Loneliness was frightening, but nothing was more terrifying than his mother and the shadows only lingered when she was elsewhere. Solitude to him was a reminder, one engraved in his bones, every letter carefully carved, each time an inch deeper, hollowing his bones. A reminder of his tarnished soul. He knew he would beg if he could, drop both knees to the ground and cry in a desperate hope to be seen. But his mother hated tears and after a few hard-learned lessons Regulus understood that childish hopes and tears were activities of the night, to be practised behind closed bedroom doors and after stony good nights.

CHAPTER I

Most nights in the manor went on the same way, Regulus would be dismissed from his family duties and told to leave for his room, he would then calmly get up and exit the main hall while his older cousins and his brother remained seated. Sirius generally stayed around an hour longer, usually so he could be reminded of his heir obligations or to receive thorough criticism of his overall behaviour. During that time Regulus would cross the long and silent hallway leading to his chambers. He would choose a book to read and then get sheathed under the heavy covers of his bed. That night, however, anyone who paid close enough attention would have been able to notice the slightly hurried way Regulus behaved himself, his hands needing to be neatly crossed on his lap to hide the small trembling that would be observable otherwise. His day had been long and exhausting, filled with unpleasant tutoring and the excessive mannerisms required from a member of his house, but that was not the cause for his ever-growing excitement, in fact, he would normally be quite content with the situation, he was sitting at the table in the main dining room, his family surrounding him, everyone eating in a satisfying silence. In those rare moments, one could almost see a regular family, sharing a warm meal, all together, no one was arguing, no looks of hatred exchanged, just a normal afternoon meal. And at these thoughts, Regulus would let himself drown in the feeling of normality, of commonness and ordinariness, let himself believe that in those specific moments, they could all pretend they were capable of being a loving and caring family. However, the real reason for his eagerness was a simple one, a book and evidently, not a regular one, Regulus read those every day, instead, it was a gifted book, further still, an unlabeled one. All of Regulus’s books were labelled, each and every one given a designated title and had an identified author, they were all well known too, books his tutors had demanded he study or books his mother had given him as compulsory reads. The anonymity of this book had clearly picked his interest, never before had he been gifted a book in this manner, it was a book he was free to read or not, one he could write inside of, draw on its marges, not that he wished to butcher any of his belongings that way, but he enjoyed the freedom it allowed him, it was his. At least, that’s what Narcissa, his older cousin, had told him two days ago when she came to his chambers hours after he was dismissed to give it to him. 

Narcissa was his favourite cousin, and probably his favourite person too, he admired her in more ways than he could name. He liked how different she was from her sisters. Where Bellatrix was proud and confident, arrogant and mesmerising, a bit frightening too, her eyes dark and scrutinising, her voice loud and clear, calling to the dreadful parts resting within everyone, Andromeda was all smiles and charm, her mind constantly focused elsewhere and yet always able without fail to know what to say and when. She could almost be seen as rebellious were she not so good at playing with the limits, never respecting them but never crossing them either. Narcissa, on the other hand, had never quite seemed to fit, as if instead of being portrayed in a painting she could be seen in the reflection in the eyes of the sitter, she would stand out amidst her sisters in an almost disturbing way, they all shared the same features and still, she had always been othered, constantly ahead of everyone, as though she was given a script containing the ongoing of everything in details. Sometimes she would even appear practically disinterested with her surroundings, looking like she was forced to attend a ball she had no intent to dance in. The night she came to him he had asked her a question as she was leaving. 

“How did you know I was going to be awake ?” He had said it quietly but when she stopped in her tracks he gained confidence and continued more surely “The lights in my room are always turned off and you surely know Mother has servants overseeing this corridor, considering your room is in the south wing you walked for at least 8 minutes to arrive here, if I had been asleep you would have risked a lot in vain.”

She let her right hand gracefully fall from where it was clenched around the knob before swiftly turning around in the dark, the moonlight making her black hair bluish.

“And you think I wouldn’t risk that for my lovely cousin ?”

“It would have been inconvenient, and you don’t like inconveniences. You could have come during the day, you clearly came tonight knowing I would be awake, how come ?”

A gentle smile overtook her face, as though the situation was amusing to her.

“Well, how come indeed. How about you write me a list of all the reasons you think would have enabled me to know, make it structured and clear, it needs to be logical too, don’t disappoint me. I doubt you have much more to do during your long and sleepless nights.”

After that she elegantly faced the door once more, turning the knob and exposing the dark wood of the hallway floor. As she was leaving, she stopped for a second, before adding without turning around 

“Rest well Regulus, goodnight.”

And just like that she was gone, abandoning the room to a haunting silence, Regulus stayed in place a couple of minutes more, unmoving, still reviewing what had happened, the book Narcissa had given him sitting on his lap, looking like it intruded on an intimate moment, like it witnessed one of the rare family like acts you can observe within a family such as this one, and frankly it did.

Regulus doesn’t remember much after that, but he recalls pushing the book away from him and onto the heavy nightstand on his right, covering his frail boyish shoulders with his white and navy blue embroidered covers, then waiting in the silent night, looking at the moon’s light resting gently on every surface in his room until sleep came and he let himself get lost in it. 

       While he was reminiscing about the events of a few nights ago, more people had gathered and were already talking in the great hall, he was possibly the only one who remained seated, all the family he knew had headed elsewhere. Tonight is a Friday and Fridays are for reunions, as bothersome as such events had proved themselves to be, Regulus had learned to enjoy them, learned to allow himself to sink into the little freedom that was permitted to him, once enough people were present, to keep his parents disapproving eyes and unwanted attention away from him. On nights like these, he would not be expected to do anything other than behave himself, and that, he could do fairly well. Everyone around him was either discussing political matters or exchanging scandalous gossip about the 70s high society, neither of those activities was particularly appealing to him, the former might have interested him did he not have such a limited amount of knowledge on it, he would have to look if he can find any book of relevance about it in the manor's library. But for now, he wanted to be out of here, so he went around the house to look for his brother, or Narcissa, or anyone really, even Bellatrix was better than staying among that suffocating crowd of people. He found Sirius first.

“Sirius ?” 

“Reg ?” 

Upon hearing his voice, Sirius turned around stiffly, surprise transparent in his grey eyes, he quickly recovered and rested gracefully on the counter behind him before adding carefully

“What are you doing here ?” At that, Regulus’s face remains blank, unimpressed by his brother’s question, his gaze focussed on him for a few seconds more before saying 

 “What do you mean what am I doing here, I live here.”

“You live in the kitchens ?” Sirius smirks a bit, seemingly satisfied with his joke.

“Of course not” he rolled his eyes “Now tell me what are you doing here ? Aren’t you supposed to be alongside mother and father ?”

“I got bored so I came here, aren’t you supposed to be in the great hall ?” he said with an accusatory tone in his voice

Regulus ignored him, “ You got bored so you came to the kitchens ?” he raised an eyebrow 

“Yes”

“I don’t believe you” said Regulus haughtily, which looked a bit silly considering he was shorter than his brother by several centimetres

“Okay”

“Okay ?” 

“Yeah, okay you don’t have to believe me” Sirius shrugged then turned around, giving his back to his brother

Regulus furrowed his brows at that, he had never thought about brushing it off as a possible answer when faced with a raised challenge like this one, so he added in a last attempt to corner his brother

“Why is there no one in here”

“I send them away”

“You can do that ?”

“Of course I can, I’m the heir after all”

That didn't make sense, the maids are not supposed to leave their positions, especially on meeting days.

“What are you plotting again ? Mother and father will be furious if they see you here. There are other things to do around here that don’t involve scheming, you know that right ?”

Regulus couldn’t see his face but he was sure that if he could he would see his brother rolling his eyes

“I am well aware thank you very much, but plotting is the only fun thing to do around here” 

“Is it”

“Yes, you would know if you left that room of yours more often”

“Your argument is completely unrelated but whatever, I don’t think plotting is something I should aspire to do at 10 years old”

“Plotting is something everyone should aspire to do regardless of age”

“Of course, you would say that”

“I��ll take that as a compliment”

“It isn’t”

“I choose to take it as a compliment”

“You are delusional then”

“Reality is relative, dear brother, didn’t you know that ? What do you even learn in all those books you read” 

“I learn about things that actually serve a purpose, in other words, things more important than that”

Sirius turned around to look at him, amusement sparkling in his eyes, a smirk plastered on his face, why was he smiling ? This isn’t funny.

“Sure, but they don’t teach you how to have fun” he said turning his back to him once more

“Then teach me” He didn’t think about the words as they left his mouth, which isn’t something he usually does, but he wanted to have his brother's attention, and that was the first thing that had come to his mind.

At that Sirius turned around fully, looking stunned for a bit, his eyebrows started furrowing but he seemed to think better since he quickly changed his expression and smiled brightly “Alright, I’ll teach you”.

[briamichellewrites]

15

Jasper discovered that he was diagnosed with late-onset bipolar disorder after going to a psychiatrist with Christina. His symptoms were mild, though they affected his professional life. He was highly respected by everyone who worked with him. They started noticing he was making careless mistakes with patients, he became easily frustrated and he seemed disorganised. It was far different from his laid-back, calm and professional personality. Christina begged him to get help. What if he was having a midlife mental health crisis? He shared his diagnosis with the medical board.

They called him in for a meeting after receiving complaints from patients. He was on medication and was involved in therapy. Because he was getting help, they would not take away his medical license. But, he was on thin ice. If he had more complaints, he was looking at having his license revoked. He understood. Thank you. He disclosed his diagnosis to Bria during a family therapy session. She was proud of him for getting help.

One of the reasons why he was mentioning it was because it was genetic. Her psychiatrist was screening her for the illness. She was at the age of onset. The psychiatrist would take into account his diagnosis when doing her assessment. Mike found that interesting when he heard about it from Bria. Jasper came across to him as a rational person. It gave him cause to research the disorder more thoroughly. Joe missed having her come over. Though he wouldn’t admit it. He was talking about getting a dog, but he couldn’t afford it. Maybe he would do it in the future.

“My pet name for Mike is dude.”

He laughed. Yes, they didn’t call each other romantic pet names like babe, honey or love like other couples. Well, she called him babe once or twice. He was mostly known as dude. While visiting her, they attended a therapy session together. It had been a month since she was admitted. They talked about how she would not be sober forever. She would have slip-ups and relapses. It was part of the disease of addiction.

The psychiatrist recommended therapy to help her through her sobriety. They would look into that. He reminded himself that it wasn’t her fault. Yes, that was true. While it wasn’t her fault, she was the only person who was in control of her sobriety. That could be empowering.

It could also be scary and overwhelming. They never thought about that. Yes, it was true. She was the only person who could control her sobriety. He was proud of the progress she was making. It was one step forward, two steps back. She wanted to go back to making music. Her psychiatrist thought she should get used to being home first before jumping back in. She would be setting herself up for failure.

Meow. Rob looked at Mowgli. What do you want? He was trying to study, but Mowgli was being annoying. Pay attention to me, human! His brain was tired from looking at numbers and statistics. He closed his notebook and put his head down on the table. Why did he choose to major in accounting? Mowgli rubbed against his leg. Thank you. As a senior, he often had moments where he thought about quitting. No, he couldn’t give up. He picked him up after bending over. Mowgli purred in happiness. This was why he got a cat. All of his stress disappeared when he was with him.

He also helped him with his loneliness. In high school, he wasn’t really the guy who dated a lot. He had one serious girlfriend, who he dated for two years. They broke up because they were immature teenagers. He was still a virgin, which he was a little embarrassed about. The other guys were experienced with different girls. Not him.

He wanted to because he was a guy with hormones. It just hadn’t happened yet. He was awkward when talking to girls. It was like coherent thoughts just went out the window. He couldn’t even use his sarcasm to get by. It was like he put his foot in his mouth whenever he tried to say something. How To Talk To Girls 101. That was a college class he needed. His anxiety played a factor in his inability to get a girlfriend. As did his depression. They made him doubt himself. The other guys had a lot better luck than he did. For now, he had Mowgli. He was his four-legged son.

Bria was raised differently from the other residents. Her parents let her make her own choices and mistakes. As a teenager, she had more freedom than other children her age. They trusted her until she gave them a reason not to. They also taught her from an early age about consent regarding her body.

Instead of being forced to hug people, she was given a choice. It was progressive parenting. She was also given a lot of freedom because they worked a lot, so they had to trust her. How did that affect her? It taught her how to be responsible. Did she ever get into trouble? Oh, yeah. It was never anything major like getting arrested. It was more like getting locked out of the house or forgetting her schoolwork at home.

Things that were inconvenient but not worth getting grounded over. What was she like in high school? She was the girl who was performing in the school plays or talent shows. After school, she had dance classes, voice lessons, and piano lessons. They were interested in hearing about how she was discovered since they heard her music on the radio. She was nine years old when her voice teacher sent a video of her singing to record labels. After auditioning, she almost got signed. Her parents thought she was way too young. She auditioned again when she was sixteen and got signed.

After school, she went into the studio to work on her album. It took about two years to complete. Mostly because she was in school. She and her label also disagreed about the music she was making. They wanted her to be a pop star, but she wanted to be an alternative rock singer. To prove she could be a rock star, she trashed the A&R guy’s office. They laughed. Did she get into trouble with him?

No, he thankfully got the point she was trying to make. She didn’t cause any damage, since she mostly just threw a bunch of papers around and threw everything off his desk onto the floor. After that, he started taking her more seriously. Why was she in rehab? She was drugged during one of her projects. They gave her cocaine while overworking her. She had what she and her boyfriend thought was a heart attack. He brought her to the hospital. She was diagnosed with exhaustion. They put her into rehab to help her get out of her contractual obligations.

It was also so she could work on herself and rest. She wanted to get back into music when she was discharged. She was almost back at her original weight. That was something she was happy about. When she looked at herself in the mirror for the time, she saw how thin she was. She also saw dark bags under her eyes. It was disgusting and she hated how she looked. As she gained weight, she also gained her self-confidence. She felt more beautiful because she was finally healthy again.

@zoeykaytesmom @feelingsofaithless @alina-dixon

[make-me-imagine]

Mystery Prompts: Category 1: 23, M. Category 2: D, 98. Fandom: X-men. Character: Wolverine. Prompt List D. Sensory Prompt: ‘Warm water rushing over your body’. (Did not use genre pick for this one). 

Premise: After a rather intense and exhausting day, the reader opens up to Logan a little bit, before breaking down when alone. The next day, he finally admits why he cares so much.

Requested by: @destynelseclipsa​​​ (this was the first option you sent in)

Pairing: Logan/Wolverine x Gen!Neutral Reader

Triggers: Very brief mentions of fighting, as well as mentions of emotional exhaustion, and hatred (towards mutants in this case), and crying. (I swear it has a happy ending) 

Words: 2.5k

Marvel Taglist: @aquariuslavenderhoney​​​, @thebookbakery​​, @groovyfluxie​​, @marvelouslyme96​​, @supersourlemon13​​​

Note: This started out as a simple short oneshot and then it just kept going lmao

You sighed as you finally walked back into the mansion, slightly slumped over in exhaustion as you dragged your feet underneath you. Professor X, Scott, and Jean in front of you, Storm and Logan on either side of you. They all got off pretty easily, being able to fight at a distance, besides Logan, who just healed quickly no matter what happened, but you could tell he was pretty tired as well.

Your mutations were rather simple, heightened senses, strength and agility and you could emit a form of energetic pulse from your hands when in contact with something or someone. You had to fight in close combat, so you got a lot of the brunt force of the enemies you had fought. A group of anti-mutant terrorists who would hunt your kind down. There was a higher power behind them, and none of you knew who it was.

Entering into the main room of the mansion, the others all followed Professor X into his office, you turned to do the same, but stopped when you heard his voice in your head.

“Go relax Y/n, I know you are quite exhausted after what happened, there is no need for you to stay up any longer.”

You must be exhausted if you had let down your guard, your strong mental wall collapsed enough for him to so easily connect with you. Giving him a silent thank you, you turned and headed for the stairs, feeling a presence behind you, you looked back to see Logan following close. 

“Did he send you to bed like a child as well?” you asked. There was no malicious intention in your voice, but the Professor had a knack at treating you like one of his students, not that you minded in most cases.

He smiled “Not in so many words.” 

You continued up the stairs, highly aware of his eyes burning into the back of your head. As you made it to your floor, you continued toward your room before you stopped and turned around. Seeing Logan still behind you. 

“Is there a reason you’re following me to my room?” you asked with a questionable gaze at him. 

“The professor didn’t send me to bed so much as he sent me to check on you.”

You let out a soft laugh before turning back to your room and going inside, Logan entering after you. 

During the fight, there was a particularly hostile man, who seemed to be in charge. He cornered you in a room and used some fairly violent anti-mutant weapons they had apparently developed. It took a lot of your strength but you were able to fight him off. But more than that, it was also exhausting on your emotions. You were also an empath. You could feel his pure rage and hatred for you, it was too strong to ignore. Once you got away from him, the Professor must have sensed the stress on you. It was rare that you felt someone with so strong of emotions, especially such violent ones. 

“Why did he send you?” you asked as you sat on the edge of your bed, slipping off your shoes before peering up at him, as he leaned against the wall, watching you closely.

He stared at you for a second, as if he was debating something before he shrugged “Who knows?” you couldn’t ignore the pang of disappointment as he said this “So, tell me, why’s the professor so concerned?” 

You sighed as you stared down at the floor, your emotions returning as you thought of what happened, the mans taunting words and harsh emotions flowing through you again. 

“You don’t deserve to exist in this world. You’re a monster, and monsters needs to be destroyed.” 

Logan straightened up slightly “What?”

“That’s what the man said” you said as you stood up “And, I’ve....never, felt that sort of intense hatred from one single person before. With other people, non-mutants, I’ve felt fear, confusion, pity, excitement, and hate, but not that...pure. And as an empath, it’s exhausting” you finished simply before adding “I’m sure the professor could feel it, that’s why he wanted you to check on me.” you began to walk past him “You can tell him I’ll be fine, I’m going to take a shower. Goodnight Logan.” you said before walking into your bathroom and closing the door. 

You leaned against the bathroom door, a few moments passed and your heart was pounding as you felt Logan’s presence on the other side of the door, before you heard him step away and leave your room. You let out a sigh as you undressed and got into the shower. As the warm water rushed over your body, you felt your body relax under the heat as you stood still, drenching yourself. You stared down at the shower drain as you saw dirt and grime wash off your body. Your mind played back on the man again. 

Why does he hate us so much? Did a mutant hurt him in the past? Something had to happened to make him feel such pure hatred. Or is it just natural? Can someone be born with that much hate in them? 

In some sense you wanted to understand, but, at the same time you didn’t. If you understood, then you might be able to feel that kind of hatred. And you never want to hate someone that much. But it wasn’t just hatred. It was disgust. 

Your mind wandered to Logan. Why would the Professor send him? Did he know how you felt toward Logan? Did he think you would open up to him, more than the others. 

Logan had been at the school for a few years now, and you got along well enough, but hardly spent a lot of time alone. But you couldn’t help but admire his strength, his instincts, and though he tries to hide it, his kindness. But he loves Jean. There was a time, when you could no longer handle not knowing, so you used your power on him, and felt a strong emotion of love. And when you felt it emanating off of him, it was when he was looking at her. That should have been enough to stop you from feeling something, but it didn’t. But you did stop using your powers around him. You didn’t want to feel that sort of overwhelming disappointment again. 

Being reminded of that pain, and that love he felt for someone else, and then the hatred and disgust you felt today aimed at you and your kind. You thoughts going back to the hatred of others you’ve endured for years. You couldn’t help the sob that suddenly escaped your mouth as you brought your hand to your mouth. You tried to shut off the emotions, turn them off, but you were so exhausted, losing control of your powers. So as the tears came, you let the warm water wash them away. 

- - -

The next morning as you walked down the stairs, kids running around the mansion to get to their first classes, you felt slightly sore, but otherwise alright. Approaching the Professors office, you knocked as you walked in, the door already open.

The Professor looked up at you with a smile “Good morning Y/n, how are you feeling today?” 

You closed the door behind you before approaching his desk “Better.” you said with a soft smile “But I had a question.” 

“What would that be?” 

“Why did you send Logan to check on me?” 

The Professor stared at your for a moment, and you could tell he was repressing a smile “I did not send Logan.” 

You stared at him for a moment “Then why did he follow me to my room last night, and say that you did?” 

“Well. I would suppose, to save himself from the embarrassment he might feel if you knew he wanted to check on you of his own will.” 

“Why would he be embarrassed, we’re friends, he could have just asked.” you said, still not understanding.

The Professor shrugged his shoulders before he smiled “Perhaps that is a question you should ask him.” 

After leaving his office, you continued on with your day, not seeing Logan at all except in passing. You weren’t sure why, but you had avoided him throughout the day. Maybe because you wanted to avoid a conversation that would include “You’re my friend and I wanted to see if you were alright”, because, though you were happy being friends with him, you couldn’t help but want more. 

You sat on a bench in the garden, the kids all inside for the evening. You stared at the leaves blowing the trees, lost in thought. 

“Hey.” a voice said suddenly, as a hand was placed on your shoulder. 

You gasped and jumped at the sudden intrusion before looking back at who it was, seeing Logan looking at your with a look of confusion and amusement. “Logan” you breathed out before shaking your head at your own reaction. 

“I was calling your name but you didn’t hear me” he said as he rounded the bench and sat next to you.

“Sorry, just distracted.” you said plainly, ignoring the heavy beating of your heart as you wondered why he was sitting so close. 

“How are you feeling today?” 

You eyed him “Did the Professor send you again?” you asked, a hint of sarcasm in your voice. 

He met your eyes for a moment before turning away “No. And-” he cleared his throat “He didn’t send me last night either. “ 

“I know.” you said simply as his head snapped back in your direction. 

“You know?”

You nodded “I talked to the professor this morning.”

“Ah” he said simply “So? Are you going to answer my question?” he asked, changing the subject. 

You smiles softly “I’m alright Logan.”

He stared at you, you were smiling, and your voice was so soft, but, there was hardly any emotion in your eyes. The familiar brightness that usually shone in your eyes was faded. You were always full of so much emotion. 

“Why don’t I believe you?” 

You realized how serious he looked. Was he worried? You opened your mouth to speak, but closed it shortly after, looking straight ahead again “I’m okay.” you said, as if trying to convince yourself “Just tired. Sometimes feeling everything all the time is exhausting to the point where, there is a short time where I don’t feel much of anything at all.” you admitted, you turned to look at him again and smiled “It’ll pass, it always does.” 

He stared at your for a moment “I hope so. I hate seeing you suffering more than others. You don’t deserve it.” 

“Are you saying that others deserve it?” you countered. 

He smiled “No. I would just prefer if it wasn’t you. You take on more than others without trying.” 

“You’re kind Logan” you said, “Even if you pretend you’re not.”

He let out a soft laugh as he shook his head “Only to you.” 

“And to Jean” you hesitated for a second “And Storm” you quickly added on, hoping he wouldn’t notice. 

“Well, I like them. But, I’m nice to them, not kind. You’re the one who insists there is a difference between them.” 

“You’re kind to Jean” you finally said, tired of him refusing to admit his feelings, you looked at him “I know how you feel about her.”

Logan stared at you, his brow furrowed as you continued “I don’t feel anything for her.”

You scoffed “Of please Logan, I felt it. I get why you deny it, I mean she’s with Scott, but, you...can tell me, I don’t mind. It’s hard to keep that kind of thing to yourself.” 

“What exactly did you feel?” 

You met his eyes, your heart beating quickly, as the reminder of the pain and disappointment you felt showed itself again “Love. When you looked at her.” 

He sat forward with a sight “When did you feel it?” 

“It was a while ago, maybe a year or so I guess.”

He laughed “Do it again.” 

“What?”

“Use your power. Feel what I’m feeling now.” 

“That- that, won’t work, she’s not here, so if you’re trying to prove something-.”

“Just do it.” 

You stared at him for a moment, seeing how seriously he looked. You let out a breath as you relaxed and expanded your power encasing him as you felt his emotion. He was feeling, nervous, but calm at the same time, a hint of what you recognize as fondness, but there was something deeper, something he was repressing, it was strong. 

“You feel that?” 

“I don’t feel anything, not really, not on the surface at least..” 

“Exactly. I’m thinking about Jean right now.” He leaned forward a bit as he stared into your eyes “Now what do you feel.”

As he stared at you, you felt his emotions change rapidly, as that deep emotion became obvious. He was more nervous, almost scared, a bit excited, but the main emotion you could feel pulsing from him was familiar, the same emotion you felt before, when he was looking at her. But it seemed stronger this time. More prominent. 

“Love.” you said quietly.

A small smile formed on his face “That’s because I’m thinking of you.” 

Your heart seemed to stop for a moment in your chest as you looked at him “I came to check on you last night because I could tell you were hurting. I wanted to stay, to, help you, but you didn’t want me too. And now I get that it’s because you thought I loved Jean. And I did. But not for a long time. Not since I got to know you. You are the one person I care most about in this place, and the last person I want to see hurting. “

As you stared at him, still feeling the heavy emotions coming from him, now pairing with your own, you felt a tear escape the side of your eye. Logan, seeing it, smiled lightly. He knew what using your powers could do, it made you feel everything so strongly, and he had known that you felt something for him for a while. 

Reaching out, he wiped the tear away with his thumb, then placed his hand across your cheek “You can turn it off now.”

You stared at him for a second, taking in the gentleness of his touch, and the way he was staring at you “I don’t want to.” you said quietly, almost in a whisper.

He smiled at you “Alright” he said before he leaned forward, bringing you into a deep kiss. For a second, you felt a strong burst of emotion from the both of you, before it was silenced, your power turned off as you relaxed and melted into the kiss. 

As the strong emotions faded away, Logan pulled away from you as he looked into your eyes “That feeling won’t go away if you stop searching for it, it won’t fade, I promise.”

Unsure of what to say, you simply smiled at him, and his heart seemed to swell as he could once again see the bright emotion in your eyes again, no longer hidden behind a vale of exhaustion and pain as he leaned in for another kiss. The second of many more. 

xx

If you liked this please consider reblogging it, so that it can be shared with others~

[maruscheese]

Bust your kneecaps

Pairing: Yandere!Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Warning(s): Implied death, cheating, toxic relationships, some angst at the beginning?, just Fuyuhiko doing baby gangsta stuff lmao idk

Your boyfriend cheats on you and you seek comfort in your best friend, who is also the Ultimate Yakuza.

“Darling, please, let’s talk about this,” You begged, showing your boyfriend a pleading look as you watched him hurriedly shove the last of his belongings in a suitcase.

“There’s nothing to talk about, y/n,” He stated coldly with a shrug of his shoulders, pressing down on the suitcase and swiftly zipping it shut, and with that, he pulled the luggage off the bed and on the wooden floor, pulling out the handle and inclining it slightly, ready to head out.

“But you… How can you do this to me? You said… I thought…” You tried to speak, trying to find something to say that could touch his heart, try to find the old him, the one who loved you.

But the words just weren’t coming out.

Mainly because at this point, there really wasn’t much left to say. It was clear by the way he sighed at your pathetic attempts at coercion and the way he raised his free hand to pinch the bridge of his nose in annoyance.

“Y/n… Look, I’m sorry, I really am, but I just…” He ran his fingers through his hair and took a deep breath, holding it in as he tried to find the right words to say. After all, he hadn’t stopped caring about you, he’d just fallen in love with someone else. But what would the right words be for telling someone you’d been seeing someone else for months now? What kind of words could possibly minimize the impact of confessing you’d fucked someone over and over again until it turned into something more than just a carnal relation? There really wasn’t anything that would make this any less painful for you.

“You just?” You asked, desperation in your voice. Did these years of dating mean nothing to him? Didn’t you deserve a proper explanation at least? 

“I fell in love with someone else, okay? I’m sorry. It wasn’t supposed to happen. We weren’t supposed to develop feelings for each other. But we did. And… And I’m not going to stay with someone I don’t love just to protect their feelings. I’m sorry y/n, but I’m putting my happiness first.” 

The words hit you like a bullet straight to the heart. It ached, it stung. You found yourself overwhelmed by all these awful emotions you wished you could say you’d never felt before, when you found his lipstick stained collars, or the much silkier, longer hair you’d find on his coat, or the cheap rose scented perfume that’d stick around on his skin even as you slept together, in the same bed.

In that moment, the emotions were more than overwhelming, though. When you’d first found out about his affair, you’d describe that as overwhelming, but this? No, this was so much more than overwhelming. It was on an entirely new level.

The hurt became too much, and your legs gave in, causing you to drop on your knees, stinging mildly from the sudden and harsh contact with the floor, but you barely registered it in the moment, finding yourself trapped amidst all this shock and hurt, realization hitting you like a punch to the gut. 

Apparently, you failed to realize exactly when he left the apartment too, but it’s not like that mattered since he was leaving anyway. He was going to chase his own happiness, regardless of how you felt about not being a part of it anymore.

The following days consisted of what you’d come to consider a rather comfortable routine based on sleeping, eating, pretending to watch TV while you stalked his social media, and crying. 

The third day after he’d left, he posted a picture with his new lover, along with the caption “Love you forever x” and you chuckled bitterly.

He didn’t even have the decency to wait a little longer.

In all honesty, you felt humiliation. You’d been avoiding the mirror lately, well aware of how red your eyes and nose would be, and how puffy your face would be, and how evident the bags under your eyes would be. How did you let something like this happen? You didn’t want to feel like this, especially about a relationship ending, but you couldn’t help the way your heart seemed to be stuck in a permanent ache. And now, your mutual friends would learn about your break-up like this, and about the affair, too. How embarrassing.

Not even 10 minutes after the post had been made, your phone was bombarded with notifications, texts, and calls. What had happened? Did you break up? Did he cheat? Who is she? How long had it been since you broke up? Why weren’t they the first to know about this?

After a couple minutes of ongoing nagging, they finally ceased. 

And an hour or so after that, a single notification made your phone’s screen light up.

“Hey. Are you home?”

It was a text from your best friend, Fuyuhiko, and even though your chest had been aching endlessly for the last week or so, a warmth suddenly enveloped your heart comfortingly, and though you couldn’t bring yourself to actually smile, internally, you did.

“Yeah.” You quickly texted back, and set the phone down on the nightstand beside your bed, getting up and quickly heading to the bathroom, knowing he’d most likely be there in a minute.

Still avoiding the mirrors, you brushed your teeth and washed your face, and just as you were finishing up with drying your face, you heard the door open and then close.

“Still got that key I gave you, I see,” You said from the bathroom, and you thought he’d at least chuckle in response, but all there was was silence.

The footsteps could be heard approaching the end of the hallway, and soon, you met Fuyuhiko’s face, painted with concern, and a small tint of that seemingly always present anger in him.

“Where is that bastard?” He asked, and you sighed, shaking your head and forcing a small smile for him to see.

“Yeah, I’m fine, Fuyuhiko, thanks for asking. I appreciate your concern,” You said sarcastically, and in a different situation, your sarcasm would’ve made him roll his eyes, but they stayed fixed on yours, determined gaze only being intensified by blonde, thick furrowing brows.

Sighing once again, this time in defeat, you walked away from him, and to your bedroom, trust falling onto your mattress, and Fuyuhiko’s gaze followed you, waiting patiently for you to respond.

“I don’t know,” You began, and his gaze softened as he walked closer until he found himself sitting on the edge of your bed, a hand resting on his lap and the other resting on the mattress for support. “He simply packed and left. Said something about putting his happiness first.” Fuyuhiko clicked his tongue and scooted closer to you, index and thumb finding a place under your chin and tilting your face slightly, making you look at him.

“Bastard knows close to fucking nothin’ if he thinks he’ll ever be happy with anyone that isn’t you. As if he could replace you with some slag,” His expression hardened and you could only try to figure out what was going on in his mind the second he looked away from you and fixed his gaze on the blank wall, little habit of his you’d found about shortly after meeting. He always did this when he was deep in thought, and knowing him, for the most part, his thoughts were no good. Especially when he looked so angry, like right now.

“I could bust the fucker’s kneecaps if you want me to, you know,” He blurted out, and you sat up immediately, eyes wide and looking into his perfectly calm and serious looking eyes, no trace of a possible joke.

“Fuyuhiko, no,” You warned him, mirroring the furrowed brows and intense gaze he had shown you before, and he returned it.

“What? Why not? He’s an asshole and the only person who’d miss him is the bitch he stuffs his cock into!” He argued, and you felt your heart ache at the statement, tears pooling in the corners of your eyes, ready to spill. “Wait, shit, I didn’t- That’s not- Fuck!” Fuyuhiko yelled, running his fingers through his hair in exasperation and looking away, his cheeks red from embarrassment.

You shook your head and took his hand in yours, showing him a small smile as tears streamed down your face. “It’s okay, Fuyuhiko, I know you didn’t mean it that way,” You explained, and the blonde felt his heart jump in his chest, not knowing if it was cause of the way you suddenly took his hand, or because of how easily you understood him, and the way he sucked at expressing himself. After all, that’s what got him falling so hard for you in the first place, and what had him so displeased when you started going out with that cheating, good for nothing, worthless bastard. He knew you were too good for him, too kind and caring and understanding, and, to him at least, it truly felt like no one realized just how good you were, and how undeserving of you they were. The only one who could notice was him, therefore making him the only one worthy of your love. He was the only one who understood how good you were, and the only one who understood exactly how much you deserved, and it certainly was a lot more than he ever gave you during the time you were together.

“I don’t want you hurting him,” You explained, and he huffed, holding back from saying anything, but still giving you a look that said he still wanted to do it. In return though, you showed him a pleading look, and he turned away.

“Fine, I guess, but I can’t promise I won’t end him if he ever tries to come near you,” He said, and you rolled your eyes.

“Good,” You said. “With that out of the way, are you busy today?” You asked, and Fuyuhiko cocked a brow, humming questioningly. “You know, since you came over… I thought we could spend the day together. Being with you never fails to cheer me up,”

Fuyuhiko smirked and crossed his arms. “Yeah, no shit. I was gonna be busy, but it’s not like it can’t wait,” He said, and you beamed at him, rapidly lunging at him and pinning him down on the bed with your weight, letting small giggles escape your lips.

Ultimately, Fuyuhiko and you spent the weekend together, and it turned out pretty great if you’re being fully honest. You can’t just lie and say that in all that time you were together there was not a single second that you didn’t feel sad or think about him, after all, that was the main reason he was spending the weekend with you, or so you thought, but as it turns out, he actually did help you cheer up, a lot more than you had initially thought he could. The blonde noticed this too. It seemed like all you needed was someone to be there with you to help keep you distracted and entertained, instead of thinking about what he could possibly be doing, or if he was thinking of you, or what you did that was so wrong that it ended up driving him away.

The little distractions Fuyuhiko kept you busy with made time fly by and sadly, the weekend was gone in the blink of an eye, and your best friend would have to go take care of whatever he had postponed to spend time with you. “Hey, cut it with that pouty shit, you look too cute for your own good,” He said with a smirk, his hand resting on the top of your head, flattening the messy hair.

“You’ll be back soon, right?” You asked, looking at him like a pleading puppy, and he chuckled softly, ruffling your hair.

“Of course I will be, I just need to take care of something real quick, and I’ll be with you again,” Your lips curled up into a small smile at his words, and you stepped forward to hug him goodbye, pecking his cheek and pulling away to walk back inside, still waving until the door was fully closed. Despite missing him already, you sighed happily. It’d been a good weekend.

And as the Ultimate Yakuza was driven back home, a certain young man awaited, tied up and blindfolded in a basement, and his lover right next to him. 

The door creaked as it opened, and the couple visibly tensed up, chest puffing, back arching, and shoulders rolling back. 

The blonde smirked, walking over to the wooden table in the corner of the room, with a golden phonograph patiently waiting to play. He positioned the needle over the record, and music flooded the room, invading their ears.

“What do you think of the music?” Fuyuhiko asked, perfectly knowing that your ex-boyfriend would recognize his voice.

“F-Fuyuhiko?” He asked in a shaky voice, and the blonde hummed in response. “H-hey, man, y-you know you don’t gotta do this, right? I thought you liked y/n anyways! A-a-and now, she’s all free! She’s single and you can finally make your move! Shouldn’t you be happy? There’s no need to do this!”

“I really like this song,” Fuyuhiko commented, ignoring the guy’s attempt at persuasion. “It seems to fit your situation, don’t you think?”

It was only then that the pair took the time to analyze the music, and it’s lyrics, which had just started right after Fuyuhiko’s comment.

Johnny, don’t leave me

You said you’d love me forever

Honey, believe me

I’ll have your heart on a platter

The blonde’s smirk only grew as he watched the couple start to shake and cry, and he looked at the big man standing patiently next to the door, and giving him a nod, which the man imitated in response.

The man took a sledgehammer in his hands, and dragged it against the floor, the noise provoking sobs to escape from the restrained. 

“Please, please don’t-- Don’t do this, I’m begging you, I’ll--” The female’s cries were cut short by the sledgehammer slamming down on her knee, ripping a sharp cry from her throat.

Might you recall, we’ve got a small family business

And the family won’t like this

They’ll bust your kneecaps, ooh~

Fuyuhiko left the room, still able to hear the crying and screaming. Pleased with another job well done, and his hands went straight to his pockets, searching for his phone.

You heard your door open and close, and footsteps approaching your bedroom, right at the very end of the hallway, and when you turned away from the TV to the door, you saw your best friend, Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu, Ultimate Yakuza.

A bright smile appeared on your face, and you jumped off the bed, running to him and jumping on him, your legs wrapping around his waist, and your arms around his torso.

“I see you missed me,” He said, and you rolled your eyes, nodding.

“Come on, now, I wanna watch a movie,” You said as you got off of him, taking his hand in yours and guiding him to your bed. 

“What movie?” He asked, kicking off his slippers and taking off his jacket. 

You answered with a shrug and settled comfortable next to him, resting your head on his chest, his arm moving to rest over your shoulder.

“I hope I didn’t make you rush to get done whatever you had to do,” You said, looking away from the TV and up at him. He looked down and looked into your eyes, shaking his head.

“Nah, it’s fine. Don’t worry your pretty little head with things like that,” He said, and you nodded, turning your attention back to the TV.

[imaginesmai]

Peter Parker - Autistic Love

After I wrote Autistic love, I discovered that there are barely enough fics with autistic characters. Since some of you asked for a second part, here it is! You don’t have to read the first one to understand this, they are different fics with just autistic! Peter in common. I’m thinking about doing a section in this blog about Autistic love, with fics like this one. What do you think?

As said before, please understand that I’m trying my best and I’m sorry if I’m wrong in some aspects. Let me know, respectfully, if I’m doing something wrong.

Plot: Peter and you have decided to meet your mother for lunch, and he’s going to discover how much you and your family care about him.

“This is… this is a really fancy restaurant”

You looked back to Peter, who had stopped walking and was standing in the middle of the room, eyes wide and hands tugging at the end of his sweater. To you, he looked handsome and adorable, but to some of the people that were on the closest tables to you looked quite weird, according to the looks he was receiving. So you went back to where he had stopped, your short heels clicking against the wooden floor.

“Pete” you called out his name, taking his hand against yours. It was a boundary you had overcame barely a month before, even though sometimes he rejected your touch. But he didn’t complain, and let you envelop his fingers with yours. “It’s fine. I’m not gonna leave you, and we don’t have to talk to any of this people”

“Just with your mother, hm?”

The words weren’t meant to be hurtful, but it still stung. You felt as if you were forcing Peter to walk out of his comfort zone coming here, even if he had reassured you the night before he was eager to meet her and that he wanted to do it. That he was fine.

You had chosen the most comfortable sweater he had, not wanting a sensory overload in public, and had pocketed two slim toys for him. You had taken Peter for a walk and had stopped in front of said restaurant, to make sure he was really okay, and he had talked to your mother before. It had looked good, at least until you had stepped inside of the restaurant and Peter had become as white as a sheet.

You opened your mouth to say something, but he beat you to it.

“I’m sorry” he squeezed your hand. “You know – I’m just nervous, I didn’t mean to blurt it that way. I just… I’m still working on the rules of social interacting and the tone of voice”

You chuckled, and Peter smiled. Sarcasm and jokes were still a hard topic to work on, because they just flew over Peter’s head, but he was starting to understand how people worked thanks to the endless series you were watching with him.

“It’s fine. What are you worried about?” you tried to make him talk, not caring about being in the entrance of the restaurant and receiving weird looks. As long as Peter didn’t care, you didn’t. “You’ve met her before, it’s gonna be fine”

“Yeah, but we’ve never sat down to eat before. What if – what if I say something incorrect? Or – if she likes me and starts joking with me?”

“Worst case scenario, my mom is allergic to jokes and sarcasm, so don’t worry” you tried to reassure him. When you were sure he was looking at you and you had his attention, you shifted on your feet. “Can I kiss you?”

You had learned the hard way that when Peter felt overwhelmed he had to be alone. So, when he grimaced and tried to nod, you just shook your head with a smile. That he always wanted to please you because he had heard in highschool that that’s what boyfriends do was becoming a problem, as he said yes even if he didn’t want; which could lead to breakdowns. Thankfully, he still didn’t master the facial expressions, so it was easy to say when he was lying.

Without saying anything else, you pulled Peter towards the back of the restaurant where your table would be. He wore a small, worried frown the entire way – your words obviously not enough to assuage his concern. Peter was so concentrated looking at the wooden floor and its uncoordinated darker spots that he almost collided with you when you stopped walking.

Looking up, he saw the familiar red hair with blonde ends that your mother wore in the videocalls. Instead of the scowl he had witnessed so many times when she was around the tower, Natasha was wearing a kind smile.

“Hey Peter” she greeted him as he took a seat on the opposite side. “It’s nice to see you”

“Miss R-Romanoff” Peter did some kind of shy wave, thankful that she hadn’t made any attempt of shaking his hand or hugging him; he was sure he was pool of sweat. “How… are you doing?”

He remembered you telling him that ‘how are you doing’ didn’t have anything to do with how was what she was doing, what Peter had thought until you explained it to him. So he repeated it, not really sure what he was saying. You sat between him and your mother, leaning down to press a kiss to the cheek.

“Hungry, actually. Hi baby” Natasha smiled, and even if Peter’s brain was telling him that she was complaining, he convinced himself it wasn’t that way. She smiled at you and gripped your arm to squeeze it as a greeting.  “How have you two been?”

Conversation flowed easily in the table and Peter didn’t feel left out. You talked about highschool, telling your mother how Peter had gotten the higher mark in the physic test and making him blush. It surprised him how the black widow praised him and made an effort to talk slower and without any metaphorical phrases so that Peter could follow the conversation.

He relaxed in his seat and even dared to leave his sweater to take again your hand under the table, feeling as if his heart could just burst from love. You looked at him as your mother talked about something and smiled, happy to see him so relaxed.

Being with Peter wasn’t easy, but was the most rewarding relationship you had ever had. You had read about autistic people when you started dating him, to know how to take care of him in the best way, and you prized every hug and touch as if it was the most special one you had ever had.

Even though everything was perfect, you were still in a public restaurant and Peter’s anxiety came back.

“Sorry” he chuckled awkwardly, making the waitress glare at him. “I still don’t –“

“We’re going to need another minutes, thank you” your mother talked, with a tight smile and hard eyes.

The waitress that so rudely had been standing behind Peter, pressing him to choose something already, left with his head low, and you thanked Natasha with a look. Peter hadn’t looked up from the menu, and you knew the more time he was spending looking at it the less he understood.

“There’s just so many food” he whispered, sounding panicked. “I don’t – I don’t understand h-half of it… and… I don’t – I can’t –“

“Have you decided what you’re going to take now?”

He was back, asking again the same question and looking at Peter while doing so. It was the third time the blonde boy came to your desk, ignoring how your mother and you had told him to wait. While it was true that you were rounding the thirty minutes just sitting there, the pression was making Peter uncomfortable. He couldn’t just order anything, he needed his time and that waitress wasn’t giving it to him.

“Are you deaf?”

Both Peter and you looked up to your mother who wasn’t smiling anymore. The words hadn’t been loud, but they were strong and the waitress took a step back.

“I thought that –“

“This is the third time we’ve told you that we need a minute” she interrupted him. “So either you leave and wait until we call you, or next time you come you can do it with your boss, so I can have a word with them”

The guy, who couldn’t be older than twenty, nodded quickly and left the table. It was quiet for a while, Peter staring with wide eyes at your mother and you looking between the two of them, trying to guess if he understood what she had done or if he was uncomfortable with it. Eventually, Peter looked back at his menu, but you saw a small smile on his face. You scooted closer to him and got ready to guide him through the menu, looking at the details of every choice. Just when you pointed to the first option, you heard him mumbling a soft ‘thank you’ to your mother, who smiled warmly at him.

-

You blinked confused when something cold touched your nose and cheek. Looking at the person in front of you, you saw Peter with a cheesy smile focused on his own ice-cream. You rolled your eyes and brushed your nose with the back of your hand, taking the pink stain of your strawberry ice-cream off. Instead of being mad, you were proud of Peter smashing your ice-cream against your nose.

“That’s really funny” you teased him, making sure he knew you weren’t angry. He looked at you hesitantly for a second, then chuckled. “If you do it again, you’re buying me another ice-cream”

“Well, I already bought you one since you didn’t bring any money” he stated, licking his chocolate one.

“Not my fault that you craved ice-cream” you said, and after a pause, you talked again. “Did you have fun?”

“Yeah” Peter nodded without looking to you. “Your mother – she’s really nice. I think… I think she likes me?”

“She does”

Natasha had gone back to her car after you had seen Peter looking towards the ice-cream place in front of the restaurant. He didn’t need to say anything, you just told your mother that you had things to do and she said her goodbyes. Apart from the waitress, the lunch had been nice – Peter had even forgotten one of his slime toys in the desk, not using it since the middle of the lunch. He had thanked her for the meal and for what had happened with the boy, in a quieter voice and blushing. After hugging you and smiling at Peter, she left and you went to order your ice-creams.

“Do you think we could do it again?” he asked, and you blinked surprised at him. “Just if – if she wants, or if you do. I liked being her. She doesn’t, you know, treat me as if I’m… that”

“Peter” you stretched your hand over the table, and let him decide of he wanted to take it or not. “She’s a spy who sleeps with a gun under her pillow and repeats all the breakable bones on her head to calm down. And I could charge a phone of I touched the plug”

“Yeah, and I can stick to walls and lift a car” he scoffed, crossing his arms in front of him. The cup of ice-cream laid in between you, besides your stretched hand. “But I wasn’t – you can understand sarcasm and have normal conversations. I don’t – “

“I can’t understand anything about nanotechnology, can’t get an A+ in science or memorise a math function only looking at it once” you interrupted him, hating how he thought of his autism as something bad. “I’m dating you, because I love you. If you make stupid jokes or not, doesn’t matter”

Peter looked at you through his eyelashes, not convinced at all of what you were saying. Even if he had spent a good time with your mother in the restaurant, he wondered if it would have been even better if you were with someone normal and not him. He wasn’t stupid – he noticed how you were on edge most of the times she said something, and how you were keeping an eye on him. Before he could say how you didn’t have a boyfriend but a baby, you seemed to read his mind.

“No one is normal Peter, and normal is boring” you said, not moving your arm. “Peter Parker is not his autism. He’s just a nerd who liked apple juice and slamming ice-creams cones on my nose. And my handsome, intelligent boyfriend who I love lots”

A shy hand made its way to yours, and finally Peter looked up to meet your eyes. His were wet, but you knew he wasn’t sad or overwhelmed. He was just happy. You knew the moment he moved that he was going to do something unexpected, because he always had the same face of hesitation when he did. As if he wasn’t sure if you were okay with any of it.

Getting up and leaning towards you, you were sure you were going to be slammed again against the strawberry cone, but you were pleasantly surprised when instead of a cone were his lips against you. You could count with one hand how many times he had initiated contact in the nine months you had been together, and it was always as good as the last.

Peter turned his head so that your noses didn’t touch and you closed your eyes, hiding the smile on your face. When he pulled apart, his pupils were widened and the tips of his ears were red.

“I love you lots too” he said, leaning to kiss you again.

Want to know more about me? Here is my Masterlist! Feedback is always appreciated!!

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[deathsshadow]

I gasped and forced my eyes open, taking in the sun shining through the half-blinded windows, the lights throwing shadows off the dozens of boxes littering my room. Groaning I rubbed my forehead, clearing sleep and the dark mat of hair out of my eyes before wrestling the tangled mess of blankets from my body and made my way to the adjoining bathroom.

The sudden shock of cold water woke me up and brought me fully back to reality. I stared at the mirror for a few minutes, just talking in my pale complexion. My black hair still fell across my forehead and I had to move it back to look at my face, at my eyes. My whole life I’d been told I looked like my father and they were right, except for my eyes. They were my mother’s, one of the many strange things I had inherited from her.

One of my eyes was a bright crystal blue while the other was what she used to call ‘ghost grey’, a blue that was so pale it was almost translucent. For most of my childhood she forced me to wear contacts, “to avoid suspicion” she always said, but I never knew why. Right now the lenses rested in their case on the sink, never used. Once I turned fifteen I figured I was old enough to just not care what people think of me.

Also on the sink were my variations of meds: pills for depression and to help with sleep and some sort of experimental thing that was supposed to help with ‘hallucinations’. I huffed at the thought but reached for the cartons anyway, taking a few of each and gulping them down with a mouthful of water even though I knew they wouldn’t help. Sighing I twisted the caps back on before just tossing them into the bin, I’d tell dad I lost them during the move and we might even find a stronger type later, besides this prescription was about to run out anyway.

Throwing on the only clean clothes I had that weren’t already packed I made my way downstairs. Dad was already in the kitchen, sitting at the table with a newspaper in his hand and a coffee cup in front of him. The kitchen like my room was full of boxes.

“Morning Sal,” dad said not even glancing up from the paper, his hand instinctively reaching for the coffee in front of him.

“Morning,” I replied, taking the opposite seat at the small wooden table, eyeing the cup hopefully, “can I have some coffee?”

My father sipped his drink before regarding me, “did you take your medicine?”

“Yes,” I told him truthfully

“Then no,” he said simply finishing the drink, “you know what caffeine does to you while on your meds.”

I sighed and went to pour myself a bowl of cereal. Back at the table however my appetite left after one small bite so I just sat there and watched the flakes go soft in the milk. Finally dad finished the paper and folded it, placing it on the table beside him, only then did he actually look at me and took in my pale appearance.

sighing he leant forwards and laced his fingers together, “bad night?”

i shrugged, trying to act casually about it and stirred the spoon around my untouched breakfast, “just tired. all this packing.”

dad sighed again before smiling, reaching over to ruffle my hair, an action he hadn’t done since i was a child.

“it’ll be okay kid,” he promised, “once we head out we can start a new life. things will get better, you’ll see.”

after that he got up and made his way over to the sink, preparing to wash up the dishes. I waited a few minutes before finally caving in under my overwhelming feelings. Sighing i slouched back in my seat.

“I dreamt about mum last night,” I admitted, my voice cracking halfway through my sentence as an unwanted tear welled in the corner of my eye.

The clatter of plates caused me to glance up. Dad stood paralysed, hands in the sink, the dishes left forgotten. He had his back towards me but i could easily feel his emotions, the same feelings was currently running through me as well.

Finally after a few more fretful minutes he turned to glance back at my slumped form. He sighed and pulled the plug before running his wet, soap covered fingers through his hair and dried his hands on a tea-towel, then refilled his cup with fresh coffee.

“here,” he said, placing it down in front of me, “you look like you need it.”

i stared up at him with as much shock as i could force my tired face to show, “but… what about my meds?”

he shrugged, “well, they don’t seem to be working anyway, so…”

at this i practically grabbed hold of the mug and downed half the drink, ignoring the liquid as it burned my throat. as soon as it hit my stomach however a sudden flash blinded my vision, scenes from my past and even worse things flashing by in fast precision, a ringing buzz filling my head. Gasping out in pain i pressed my shaking hands against my temples as the buzzing became horrid screams. suddenly my stomach lurched and i rushed to the slowly draining sink, emptying both the caffeine and useless tablets out of my system. that was when i reminded myself that i just hated coffee.

bringing myself back i wiped my mouth clear with a hand, feeling the sweat trickle down my neck. i could hear dad sighing in the background.

“maybe next time,” he said as i turned to face him. slowly he cleared his throat, fidgeting slightly under my accusing gaze before adding, “speaking of which, shouldn’t you go say goodbye to Toby? it’ll be a while till you get to see him again.”

His question forced me back to the current situation. Sighing i lowered my head and, nodding sadly, made my way to the backdoor. this was one of the things i was dreading, having to say goodbye to a good friend. one of my only friends...

...

He spotted me the moment i exited the door. Giving a happy bark the large black hound bounded forwards, only to be pulled back by the heavy chain holding him down. Whimpering he sat back and scratched irritably at the shabby red collar.

Smiling sadly at his pathetic expression i closed the door, making my way over to unclip him. The moment he was untied he gave a loud yelp of excitement and bowled me over, forcing me down easily. I gave a genuine laugh and pushed him back just enough to sit up, scratching him behind the ears. He whined happily and tilted his head back against my palm, staring at me with his mix-matched eyes.

I had Toby ever since i was a kid, my auntie got him for me for my twelfth birthday. None of us knew what breed he was, some kind of cross-mix by the look of him. He was large and dark, with thick fur, pointed ears and a long bony tail. But the main reason my aunt got him for me was because of his eyes, they were just like mine, blue and grey. shiny and bright.

“Hey bud, it’s good to see you too,” i laughed as he licked my hand and then my cheek.

Smiling i pushed him back again so i could wipe my face clear. As the minutes drifted by my expression started to slip. Giving a small sigh i placed a hand against the dog’s head. He whimpered instantly at the touch, probably picking up on my emotions.

“Listen bud,” i muttered, placing both hands along his long head, forcing us to make eye-contact, “I’m going to go away for a while and i... won’t be able to bring you with me...”

He gave another sad whimper like he understood what i was saying and once again i could feel tears welling in my good eye. Wiping them quickly away i wrapped both arms around him, pulling him close for a hug.

“... I’m going to miss you...”

“— don’t worry, we’ll take good care of him.”

Sniffing I glanced up, shocked but not entirely surprised by the sudden voice.

She was standing in the shadow of the house, leaning confidently against the wall, which was probably why i hadn’t noticed her sooner. She was wearing ripped, faded blue jeans covered entirely in brightly coloured paint and marker stains, a long purple t-shirt and a short black coat. Her spiky black hair was cut short and styled in a way that i could only describe as punk-ish. She had a wide smile on her face.

Smiling back at her i wiped my eyes clear.

“Thanks Ace,” i muttered quietly.

Her smile widened at my response.

My cousin, who’s actual name is Ashley White, was exactly what I should have been, what i wished i had been, having inherited the Prince’s family genetics. Although both our hair was raven, a black so dark and shiny in was almost blue, she had been lucky enough to also inherit those bright emerald eyes, and the normality of sight that came with it.

Although i was admittedly a little jealous of this i never actually resented her, in-fact it was the exact opposite. I loved her. She was the best cousin i could have ever hoped for. Even if she was a little annoying at times...

Stepping out of the shadows she crossed her arms and studied me, tilting her head to the side.

“You look terrible,” she shot out, her words dripping with sarcasm

“...very funny...” i muttered, stroking my pet’s head.

She smiled before dropping the act, becoming the true caring and loving girl i knew. Making her way over she knelt down beside me.

“I’m serious,” she said, actually sounding like it, tucking her hands under her knees, “what’s wrong?”

It took a few minutes for me to say anything, but I’ve never lied to her and holding something back, keeping silent when i was hurting, too me at least was the same as lying. i sighed and gave in.

“I had the dream again,” i admitted, staring blankly off into nothing.

Ace’s eyes widened and her face went pale, but she shifted closer as if i had just informed her on some sort of secret, like a child finding out about a hidden birthday present.

“Was it there?” She asked, “i mean, like... did you see it?”

I nodded, absently running my fingers through the dog’s thick, black fur, “i did. Clearer than ever...”

Climbing to her feet she grabbed hold of my hand, “come on, let’s go to my room. Then you can tell me in detail.”

Nodding i followed her up, re-clipping the ratted old collar back on and saying a hurried, and final, goodbye to Toby.

...

The door to Ace’s room was always kept closed for her privacy and no one was allowed in without her permission, whether she was in the room or not. A plaque on the door read: ASHLEY WHITE’S ROOM DO NOT ENTER, but someone (Ace) had gone over it with red paint and had written: ACE’S.

I snickered a little at the sight, remembering how that whole scenario came about. That name had come around when we were kids, playing our own make-believe version of cards seeing as we were too young to have learned the original rules. She was always trying to hide things, but her smile always gave her away. When i called her out on it she snickered in a way she thought was evil and threw down her hand-made card.

“Bam, ace of fours. I win!”

I snorted at her failed scheme and scolded her, saying that an ace of four wasn’t even a real card. She pulled a face and muttered: “what-ever...” and ever since then it had become a sort of nick-name.

Slowly i brought myself back to the present as Ace pushed her door open. Flicking on the light she nodded for me to enter...

Entering her room was like entering an art studio, it was wrong to even think about calling it a bedroom. From floor to ceiling, even littered along the floor, were hundreds if not thousands of paintings, sketches, drawings, you name it. If someone was to mention something about one of her drawings she’d only scoff and say that it wasn’t even her best work, but i knew better. She had basic sketches that looked as if they could have been taken from an art museum. Even her worst was better than anything i ever drew.

Ace motioned me over to her bed and I obediently sat, curling my feet up silently. Making her way over to her overflowing desk she slipped out a large folio and a broken stick of charcoal. Slowly she flipped through the pages, looking for a clean slate. Each page she passed—much like the rest of her room— pictured a dark illustration of my nightmare. The black, horned shadow appearing to creep closer the more pages she turned.

Finally she found a blank page. Picking up her chunk of charcoal and a plain red pencil she asked me to recite my dreams to her. Tucking my knees up under my chin i obeyed, allowing the faint sounds of drawing to put me under a sort of trance.

The minuets blurred together as i spoke, eyes shut tight as the memories flooded through my mind. Then came the loud, sudden snap of the charcoal that forced me out of my nightmare back to the present, the creature’s glowing red eyes still burning through my retinas.

I sat there, curled up and shivering as Ace blew away the excess charcoal dust, brushing at the page almost lovingly to made sure it didn’t smudge. not once did she turn back to look at me. I didn’t mind, I actually appreciated the few minutes free time, giving me the chance to wipe the invisible tears and calm myself from the relived fright.

Finally she raised the page up to admire her art, the evil stare of the beast glowing right off the page, the blood red gaze so lifelike it was like it was staring right at me. I shuddered at the thought and turned away, re-closing my eyes. Unfortunately Ace took notice of my movement and turned to face me with a look that almost resembled guilt. She placed the page back down and made like she was going to say something when she was interrupted by the sudden, almost reassuring voice of her mother calling out to us.

“Salazar? Ashley? Are you there? The moving van’s here. Let’s go!”

We both let out a breath at the same time. I had no idea what Ace was sighing about, but i was sighing out of relief at not having to keep that image in my head any longer. Putting on a smile she slipped her drawing into a drawer and got up to walk over to me. Giving a small nod i joined her and together we left her room.

[fictionalbadass]

Chaotic City

Chapter I

Warnings: swearing (maybe in future), killing, blood, drug use, mention of drug deals, alcohol abuse, NSFW content in future (maybe?)

A/n: I hope everyone loves this, it's my first time publishing on tumblr.

The sounds of whimpers filled Valencia's ears as she twirled a dagger in her hands and examined the man tied up in the chair.

She trailed the blade of the dagger on the skin of the man's hand when she was behind him, she placed the dagger on his throat and pulled his hair roughly, pulling his head upwards.

"Why do you think that betraying me was the best thing you can ever do in your life?" Valencia said, sickenly sweetly as her dagger bite into the man's skin, making the man cry out.

"I- I didn't mean to! I g-got a better deal!" The man exclaimed hastily, wanting to Valencia to stop hurting him.

"Hmm... better deal huh?" Valencia spoke up as she withdrew her dagger and started to twirl it again in her hands and walk around him until she was facing him.

"Tell me, how much did Giovani offered you?" Valencia demanded as she glared viciously at the man sitting infront of him.

"T-ten thousand dollar." The man gulped, scared of how Valencia would react.

Smack. Valencia slapped the man hard on his right cheek, making his ear ring loudly. He gulped again as he looked up at the mafia queen in the eye, scared for his life now.

"You are really dense Patrick. This would have costed me millions. But what do you care? You wanted to fill your pockets, and now you won't have a single cent." Valencia said, anger sipping in her head, making her see red.

"But try to-" Patrick never got to finish as Valencia slit his throat, making him trash in the chair before going still as life left his body.

"Dispose him." Valencia said before walking out of dark basement to her lavish manor. She gave her dagger to her man, who took it away to disinfect it.

"We got our hands on the drugs. It's being send to the original buyer." Maximus, Valencia's right hand informed as he joined her.

"Brilliant. Any news from the chief of Police?" Valencia asked as she walked towards her office.

"He managed to lure Hernandes into a trap and now Hernandes is serving 15 years in jail." Maximus said, smirk evident on his face.

They entered into lavish Black themed office, with leather chairs and Black wood desk infront of the large window in the office, that had red curtain. Colour contrast.

"Amazing." Valencia said, smirking as she sat on her chair and kept her legs on the desk and clasped her hand together.

"Anything new on streets?" Valencia asked as she stared at Maximus.

"Nothing is new on streets. People still think goddess of you." Maximus informed as he sat on down on the chair infront of the desk.

"I want to get in contact with Siddhart Patel from India. He wanted to talk about exporting some drugs to his ring." Valencia said, putting a cigarette between her lips and lighting the cigarette with the lighter.

"Antònio mercelia called back. He has successfully delivered the drugs. But the hold on Europe by the Davis and Xaviers is proving a barrier." Maximus said as he scrolled through his phone. Valencia puff out the smoke of the cigarette.

"Europe it is, ain't it?" Valencia asked as she placed her legs down and leaned forward with her elbows on the table and chin being supported by her hands. She puffed out the smoke of the cigarette, that she inhaled a moment ago.

"Yes. Anthony Xavier and Harrison Davis. Both of them are the mafia king of Europe. News has it that they are loved by the politicians of that country for bring millions in the country everyday." Maximus snorted as he never understood mindset of politicians.

"Obsession with money, huh? Run me their information please. I want to know everything about them. From their hometown to their current location." Valencia ordered, while a malicious intention sparkled in those greyish yellow eyes.

"I am on it." Maximus said as he furiously typed on his macbook, while Valencia started to play with her pocket knife. She put out the cigarette between her finger and closed the ash tray.

Seven seas away, a cry sounded in the alley way. The man seemed to be running a marathon, or a race to save his life.

"I swear to jesus, I don't work for any mafia entity!" The man begged to the shadow that was overwhelming him.

"Tsk, tsk. A lie. I have so much experience that I am able to point out your lie. So tell me, who are you working for?" A disembodied voiced sounded in the empty alley way.

"I told you, I don't work for anyone. I just had drugs delivered at my door way, and I delivered those drugs to the original buyer. Nothing more!" The man said desperately, knowing that if he couldn't defend himself, he is as good as dead.

But there was no further questioning as two blasts of bullets resounded in the alleyway, marking the fate of the man in the alleyway.

"I hate liars." The man who killed the man grumbled as he pocketed his gun and turned around and removed his phone.

"Anthony, I am sure this trail leads to Valencia." Orion spoke up as his brother picked up his phone.

"You sure about that?" The person on the other side of the line asked, wary evident in his voice.

"Who else would deliver American crack cocaine to England? I am sure that it is the infamous Valencia Downey." Orion said as his driver opened the door for him, and Orion sat in the car.

"I will inform Davis about this, but are you really sure about this?  One misinformation can destroy our empire." Anthony made his concern evident to Orion.

"I am sure about this. Trust me on this one." Orion said to his brother and hung up before doing his own research.

The lady was more beautiful than he thought she would be. Beauty with poison...deadly combination.

She knows what she is doing, so does Orion. He pocketed his phone as he let his mind wander on the outcome of Valencia taking over their empire.

She was known for her ruthless and cruel treatment of the people who works for her. Except one. Maximus Carson. She seems to attach to him.

Maybe he is her weakness, or maybe something more for her. Orion's thought consumed him, and it was like an obsession growing day by day.

Orion entered his brother's office, unbottoning his blazer and removing the blazer. He tossed the blazer on the sofa in the corner, and loosened his tie.

"So Antònio Mercelia didn't give away anything?" Anthony asked from where he was sitting.

"Nope. He lied to me. And I hate liars." Orion growled as he sat on the sofa cross legged.

"So he is dead?" Anthony asked, raising his single brow at his brother.

"Yes. He is. But Europe is in for treat. There have been so many American spies in England, that it's more than obvious that Valencia has set her eyes on our country." Orion said, rolling his sleeves up and rubbing his forehead in irritation.

"Why are you so frustrated?" Anthony asked, amusement making it's way in his voice.

"What if we are too laid back and she gets her hold on our country? That's a nightmare for me. But what if that happens?" Orion asked as he stared at his brother, who just rolled his eyes.

"As much as I know about this Downey woman, she has control over America, and three fourth of Asia. But she tried three times to take her control on Europe, but just to fail. And we are not laid back. Stop worrying about the outcome which is not possible." Anthony reassured his brother as he went back to his typing again.

"Sir, Mr. Harrison Davis and Mr. Peter Davis are here to see you." Their Assistant stepped in the office and informed the duo.

"Sent them in please." Anthony said to his assistant before closing his macbook and fixing his blazer.

The two brunette stepped inside, in all formal wear and non chalant look. They both didn't look much familiar, yet they were brothers.

"Ah Harrison, peter. Have a seat." Anthony said firmly, neither friendly, nor with anonymity.

"You sounded like the matter on our hands is urgent. What is going on?" Harrison asked, sitting in the white leather chair, followed by Peter, who sat beside him.

"My brother here is concerned about Valencia Downey of America. In three weeks he has killed 6 rogues who started to work with Valencia. We ought to tighten our hold and boundaries." Anthony said, hands clasped in seriousness.

"I conveyed same concern to Harrison this morning. There are many of our employees going rogue. It's our time to tighten our grip and boundaries over our employees." Peter agreed nodding his head.

"We will do that, but be less paranoid. You will give away about your knowledge about knowing to have spies in our empire easily. And Valencia has already tried thrice, she won't succeed in her fourth attempt. We wont let her win." Harrison reassured his brother as he leaned back in his chair.

"If you dare to underestimate this woman, I will cut your throat. She is not a normal woman!" Peter exclaimed as he glared at his brother.

"Same goes for you Anthony. I will empty my bullets in you." Orion quipped, eyebrows raised in threatening way.

"I am glad to know that you are on our side." Anthony piped back, dryly and full of sarcasm.

"Good. Because I won't hesitate to do what I told you." Orion snapped back, narrowing his eyes at his brother.

"And if you will try to get an access to her information, it's practically impossible. Even if you get a high rank Hacker, she will know our IP adress, giving out our location. We have to find our way. Sending some spies to America. In the den of snakes." Peter offered, eyes hold a determined look.

"I offer myself as a tribute." Oliver speak up from his place, not lifting his eyes from his phone.

"And I will tag along with him." Peter added, a smirk slowly made it's way on his lips.

"Are you two sure? Because one wrong move, it can cost you your lives." Harrison asked, brotherly instinct kicking in.

"Was never sure about something, like I am sure about this. I want to know how Valencia Downey works." Orion said, a smirk and something along the line of malice sparkled in his green eyes.

"If you are that sure about this. You will be leaving for America in two weeks." Anthony said, still not having good feeling about whole thing, but he knew his brother will do it, no matter how much he try, he won't budge.

Orion and Peter exchanged a triumph look before talking about clubs they opened last months.

Orion and Peter were the soul and heart of Davis and Xavier Empire. Both were ready to get blood on their hands, and they did got blood on their hands.

Harrison and Anthony were brain and discipline of the two empire, and without them Orion and Peter would have got themselves killed in the second year as a mafia.

And looking at the situation, it's either going to be a deal, or bloodshed. And the things will remain uncertain until the end.

[dark-dc-universe]

It Never Ends Dick Grayson (Nightwing) x Reader

Requested:Yes by @river-fics

Warnings:angst,fluff,violence,cussing,bad grammer

(Y/N)=Your name

(H/N)=Hero name

(V/N)=Villain Name

-

“What’s wrong ladies? Having a bad leg day?” You turn around and smile at the goons that had no way getting to the other side of the building because of the big jump made across it.

“Don’t let her get away!”One goon at least out of the five were chasing you decided to start firing their machine guns at you. They’re aim was terrible and missed every bullet as you dodge every single one by doing 3 front flips to take cover behind a wall.

“(H/N) come in.”A raspy yet smooth voice came in through the com in your ear.

“Yeah,what’s up Nightwing?”You pressed your hand into the com in your ear at the sound of your boyfriends voice.You peek around the corner when the goons ceased fire and started firing from an Ak47 you took found when you knocked a goon out cold because it was getting overwhelming to keep fighting with hand to hand. Dick doesn’t like the fact that you use to kill goons but you only did when they killed someone innocent,your like karma for goons. 

“Are you killing people?”You could hear the curiosity in Dick’s voice assuming that he can hear the firing from the gun.

“No love,I’m waiting for an opening to throw in a grande.”You raise your gun down to look at the goons crying and holding the areas you shot them in. You spoke again before Dick can respond to your sarcasm. ”Relax babe,they’re fine enough to place in jail just like you wan’t.” You even have to look at his face night now that he’s already rolled his eyes.

Dick sighs heavily.”Where are you right now?” Dick would have been by your side fighting off the rest of the goons but reinforcements appeared and took the rest of them down with Damian. 

“I’m on a roof-”Before you can even finish your sentence you felt a hard object place impact of the back of your head. You fall to the ground face first with a thud and all you heard was a sicking laugh and the sound of Dick’s voice calling your name before you blacked out.

“Oh look at what I’ve caught on this lovely night,another birdie!”The crime prince lets the old rusty pipe in hand fall against the other. “Time to bring her in, Harley be a dear and help me take her away?”

Dick grows silent trying to hear what the pysicopath was saying but all he heard was a faint ‘help me bring her in’. “Little D?” Dick turns to look and see Damian was not by his side anymore. In fact he didn’t know how long he disappeared for but all he knows is that the GCPD has been called and ready to pick up the remaining goons. “I have to find her.” Dick thought to himself.

-

“Look puddin she’s waking up!” You heard a squeal that sounded like it came from your right.

“Excellent, go grab the camera.” You heard that same rich,sicking voice from earlier from your left but it wasn’t fainter than on the right,sounded like he was standing right next to you.

You finally gain conscious again to actually open your eyes to take in your surrounds.”Wha..”You mutter, groaning from the headache you just started to get.

“That’s it little bird wake up, sing a song for us why don’t you?” The Joker twirls a small dagger in his hands, as he walks towards you. You try to struggle against the restrains that were held behind your back and ankles that was bound to a wheel chair. But they were very tight, you can already imagine the scars you’ll get and knowing the Joker.

It’s only the beginning.

“Now,now little bird I’m not going to hurt you.”He tilts his head pouting his lips at you.”I just want to make a few changes to you that’s all. What do you say? You me and Harley making all of Gotham begging for their lives.” He grabs the back of your chair using his hands as motions to make his imagination.

‘Man,he’s even crazier than I thought. Well maybe because this is my first time being kidnapped.’ You look at the Joker at how crazy clown he was from the corner of your eye. You didn’t show it but your terrified for your life. He probably knows it since he’s probably does theses kinds of things all the time if he’s not in Arkham Asylum. You didn’t dare say anything, no telling what he might do to you if you give so much of a word he didn’t like hearing.

“Not much of a speaker eh? That’s find we don’t need you to speak that much unless it’s about getting rid of the bats and the rest of his little cage animals.”Joker now stands in front of you now where you can fully see him.

“I found it Mr.J!” Harley Quinn came back skipping with a camera in both of her hands and a smile on her face too.

“Great work Harley! Now get ready have a feeling of what it’s like to be us! You’ll find so much joy,freedom and wonder.”Joker gives you a large grin as he and Harley closed in own you. They���re laughter ringing in your ears and your heart rate increased in fear of what was going to happen to you next.

-

From a distance someone was watching you, he known he should have been with you instead of his brothers those 3 days ago on the roof top. But he had to help his older brother with reinforcements. After finally finding you he’s ready to bring you home to him and the rest of his family. Including his oldest brother who’s so pitiful and hopeless.

“Father,come in please.”The young yet stern voice spoke putting pressure against comm with his finger tips.

“Damian,what is it?”The father of Damian,the voice of Bruce’s spoke with a rich,deep and fatherly tone.

“You won’t believe what I found.”

 It doesn’t take that long to break someone if they gave up on life already. If they’ve been abused and mistreated for just only a short amount of time. It’s been a good-well you lost count but it felt like forever now since you’ve been under the Joker’s and Harley Quinn’s torture. 

Well firstly while you were in that wheel chair Harley filmed Joker pushing you into barrel of chemicals. He pushed you in from the back you didn’t know how exactly when he’d drop you when he kept messing around before pushes you off the ramp.

Secondly there was the shock treatment. Everytime you an answer ‘wrong’ a buzzer would a make an ‘Errr’ before Harley switched on the switch to make the electricity shock you. It was endless you felt like a piece of you was fading away with your brain cells.

“Who do ya hate?!”

“Batman.....Nigtwing...all the birds...”

“Speak up!”*Shocks*

“Everyone! I want kill them all!”

“Ahahahahaha!”

Also lets not forget that they actually made you like one of them, just like what they did to Tim. But your (V/N) now and have a free will to use guns now. How ever you pleased,you got to kill people that wasn’t in your nature ever since you meet someone like Nightwing. You’ve long forgotten who Nightwing even was now,you forgot about your the rest of your family because you’ve been brain washed with so many lies and ‘facts’. Harley told you that Nightwing was a boyfriend of yours until he cheated on you and abused you to make you two break up. You didn’t really have a choice but you believed her anyway.

“(V/N) we have some visitors,why don’t you show them what ya made of?”Harley smiles widely at you giving you a thumbs up with the hand she didn’t have occupied with her large hammer.

You finish applying the make to your very pale skin,looking at yourself in the mirror all you saw was a broken woman who looked utterly confused and in the need of help. You stand up adjusting your colorful new clothes and walk out the door of your room. When you get to the railing you look down to see the flawk of birds and one bat fighting the goons down below in the abandoned ware house.

You take off the sniper rifle off your shoulder and point and aim it at a guy with a red hood. You peer through the lens to get a good shot of his heart before he turns his back because of the goon right behind him to punch him square in the face. 

You sigh roughly before you just pulled the trigger anyway and shot the vigilante in his left shoulder. The red hood guy went down holding his shoulder blade to stop the bleeding, He slowly looks up from the direction where the bullet came from  to see you just staring down at him before you ran out his sight.

“Red,you okay?Dick says knocking a goon out with his bow staff before turning his attention to Jason. His eyes got wide as he notices the damage in Jason’s shoulder blade.

“Not shit Nightbird.”Jason hisses at the impact.”I saw someone up there.”He groans as Dick drags him behind some crates to take cover from all the action.”It looked like-”

”Shh. Stay right here,I’ll get Tim to give medical treatment to you before I go check it out. i’m pretty sure Bats and little D can take care of all these bad guys.”Dick says.”Tim.”Dick whisper shouts in his comm from behind the crates earning an eye roll from Jason.”Tim come over here.”

“Where’s here?”Tim grunts as he trips 4 goons at once with a sweep kick and wings.

“Behind you.”Dick waits from Tim to turn around and notice his gaze.

After a few moments Tim sneaked behind the crates they were and understood the picture. “Okay that bullet needs to be removed.”Tim gets by Jason’s side immediately.

“Okay I’m off.”Dick makes an attempt to sneak away.

“Where are you going?”Tim looks over his shoulder at Dick with a ‘you can’t leave’ look.

“I’m going after the person that shot little wing. He said-well could have said if I let him finish,he saw... (Y/N).”Dick finishes with wary voice.

Jason growls lowly at the nick-name but winces as Tim places some tweezers into the bullet wound.”What are you waiting for?She went up that way now go-argh!”He groans in pain.

Dick nods before he creeps away in order to follow your trail.

Why did you run away? You could have killed them all all so easily without them knowing who it was. But now you really messed up. Nightwing probably saw you shoot his partner and now’s coming to hurt you more like Harley said he did. He might even leave you on the brink of death or he just might kill you all together. It was very intense to listen to but it all feels so real. Because the pain you feel everyday emotional and physically never ends. 

 You needed some fresh air before you faint again The thoughts and illusions of dying when your already broken makes you claustrophobic and dizzy in a closed off area.

You sling open the old double doors at the roof top. Opening it and walking out you felt the heavy droplets of rain hit your body like no tomorrow. It starts to ruin your make-up,running down your face. You wouldn’t say just the rain is messing it up but your tears as well. You haven’t cried in ages,you haven’t known what it was like to cry in what felt like months. It felt like the rain pouring down even more harder than it was before. 

“(Y/N)?”A cautious yet worried voice call from behind slowly and hesitantly. You turned to the source to see the one and only Nightwing.

“What do you want?”You sniff trying to hold back your tears from your ‘abuser’.

“(Y/N) I’m here to bring you home-”Just as he finished his sentence slowly making his way towards you. You snap.

“Why?! So you can hurt me even more! Cheat on me! Lie to me! Don’t even try it!”You took out one of your pistols from your thigh holster from beneath your dress to aim it at Dick.

“What did they do to you my song bird.”Dick says just above a whisper stopping on his tracks. He was so close to you, so close if he could just bring you into his arms and get rid of all the fucked up shit those clowns did to you he’d be alright with getting you all the love and help you need now.”(Y/N) please listen to me this isn’t who you are.”

“That’s not my name you fool, my name is (V/N) now and all I want to listen to is your heart beat faltering.”You walk over press your gun underneath his chin glaring up at him.

Dick takes this opportunity and slaps the gun out your hand and grabs a hold of your wrists.”(Y/N) listen to me! Please baby I know your in there...please just come with us...they’re lying to you. I would never hurt you.”Dick knew that you went through some endless hell but if anything he wants you right now he needs to bring you home and get those lies out of your head. He decided to take off his domino mask so he could look down with his very own eyes without the mask.

You gasp starting to remember those precious blue eyes from somewhere. You started to remember some of the best moments you and Dick shared. All those time felt like it was ages ago. But here he was in flesh, the man you loved since high school even though he was the one after you. His name couldn’t come to you at the moment as you felt his arms wrap around you before you started crying again. You hid your face in his chest wrapping your arms around him as he soothes and kisses your temple.

“It’s okay my song bird your tears will end just like everything else but my love for you.”

Okay that took a long time! But hope you enjoy!

[unstoppableforcce]

Princess Part 2 (Poe Dameron x reader)

A/N: please enjoy this part 2 and just know that the plot will continue to thicken from here.

Word Count: 2.0k

Warnings: Angst? Shouting? Me not writing enough and leaving you hanging. I just love hot headed Poe Dameron.

“Oh your majesty, thank you for gracing me with your presence.” His sarcastic voice rang out as he sat on the uncomfortable bench in the palace prison.

The princess entered, a small smirk on her lips in response to his comment. The guards at the door to the jail cell bowed towards her but she quickly dismissed them, leaving her alone outside the cell. With just Poe on the other side.

“I see your time confined to this cell has done nothing to curb your overwhelming respect for me.” She responded with an equal amount of sarcasm.

He let out a staunch chuckle in response, standing and quickly crossing the empty cell in a few steps, standing across from her, looping his arms through the bars casually. He stared up at her, amazed by the way she held herself, she was royalty, no doubt about that. But there was also something familiar about her, casual. What he had seen in her when she stopped to talk to those kids, something that convinced him she had no place aiding with the first order.

“I respect those who deserve it.” He spoke heartedly, locking his eyes to her.

“Think.” She said, and he furrowed his eye brows to illustrate his confusion at her words. “Who you think deserves it.” She reiterated, clarifying things for him. “Millions of people on this planet respect me and I have worked very hard to earn said respect. The only thing you have made clear to me so far is that you do not think I deserve respect.”

“You haven’t earned my respect.” He spoke hesitantly, because as he watched her speak so regally, he became less and less sure if his words.

“I wish to change that.” She said weakly, gazing down at him. He, however, scoffed roughly and looked away. “Believe it or not, I think I deserve respect.”

“You’ve made it painfully clear you’re siding with the first order. Good people don’t do that.” He explained, pulling away from the bars to stand at even height with her.

“I’m trying to keep my people alive Mr. Dameron.” She explained.

“The resistance is trying to keep people alive.” He argued. “You are too busy signing on to the Order’s agenda and locking me in prison.”

“You attacked me.” She said with a small uncomfortable laugh, pulling herself away from his harsh and intense stare.

“I hardly touched you.” He defended, letting out an exasperated sigh.

“It’s not that simple, Mr. Dameron, men have suffered worse in this prison for less. I am who I am, my guards have to ensure my safety as the only remaining monarch this planet has.” She spoke heartedly, turning back to face him.

“Your father believes in us.” Poe shamelessly repeated the brief history lesson Leia had given him regarding this planet’s history with the resistance.

“My father is a symbol of a dying generation of thought. I’m sorry, Poe. But your General is not nearly as convincing as their General.” She added and he shook his head in disbelief.

“I can’t-, I just can’t accept that. There’s no way you could sign on to their plans.” He argued.

“You don’t even know me.” She continued and he took that with a string distaste. She was right. He didn’t know anything about her spare her title, lineage and position in this war. Yet he felt comfortable speaking to her as though they had confided in each other for years.

“No, I don’t.” He started but he reached through the bars and confidently grabbed her arm, not afraid knowing she had dismissed the guards earlier. “But I know a Princess, and I’d like to think you’re a lot like her. Otherwise I can’t imagine why she would put faith in your sponsorship.”

She stared at him with a similar strength he did, ignoring his grip on her forearm and the gravitational pull it created between the two of them. In one swift motion, she knocked his hand away from her arm, and grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling his face forcefully against the bars. She readjusted her grip, pinning his stray hand against the bars near hip level and used her other hand grip his throat tightly.

He struggled against the bars, surprised by her quick movements and tight grip. He grunted, straining for breath, at the will of her hands.

“You really don’t know me, Mr. Dameron.” She said quickly. “So when I release you from here in the morning, do me the favor of informing Leia, a woman of whom I hold in the highest respect, that I am not my father, and she should abandon hope of me ever becoming him. I like to think we don’t have to be what our situations make us, but I’m afraid I can’t be what you want me to be.” She spoke carefully, a strong whisper that he never expected.

She released him soon after her words left her mouth, stepping back and casually dusting off her dress and he dropped to his knees, catching his breath desperately. “Where did you learn to do that?” He choked out in disbelief.

“This is a planet of pacifists, we don’t have an army and not even our ships have weapons. Who the hell do you think trained my guards? I’m the only who ever leaves this planet.” She said harshly, watching him slowly make it to his feet.

She hated the pained look on his face, hated the fact she had to be so harsh. She didn’t want to. She would love to be able to play the damsel in distress, needing the protection of strong knights in resistance jumpsuits, to be ignorant to the murders happening across the globe. But she can’t. Her father was never strong enough to make this decision but she was going to be.

She took a few steps away before stopping, not liking the pained hum in her chest. “I really am sorry Poe.” She added before walking off.

She told her guards to release Poe in a few hours, directing them to transfer him and Leia directly to their ship, no argument.

The princess stalked back to her throne room, achingly disappointed in herself for what she had to do. She passed the time away until their departure pacing back at forth, twirling her hands and ignoring the stares from her guardsmen.

The bright sunlight that so characterized her planet began to shine in through the high windows of her throne room. She knew that it was time for the resistance to finally leave her planet. She considered giving Leia the opportunity to say goodbye to her father, but she couldn’t bring herself to explain the situation to the sick and dying man. Oh how he would disapprove of her actions.

The princess stalked down the long hallway from her throne room to intercept the transfer. She spotted Leia from the hallway and quickly approached her. “Princess.” She addressed casually. Though she wasn’t given time to say anything else as her guards brought Poe up to them, he was still in restraints but the princess easily got those taken off.

“I hope you find it in yourselves to understand where I’m coming from.” She said, locking eyes with Poe. He wanted to give her a knowing look, to tell her understood but he couldn’t. There was no way he could understand siding with the first order. “I truly do apologize for what has transpired here, I had my men pack a few crates of Mewe as a gift. I hope you can understand-“

“Princess!” A loud voice shouted from behind her and her guards visibly tensed. “A large ship has just entered our atmosphere.” The man, she quickly recognized to be one of her servants, said in a language foreign to both Leia and Poe as he approached her, arm tentatively placed on her shoulder.

“The first order?” The princess questioned back in the same language and the man nodded cautiously. “Looks like you just extended your stay.” She said back to Poe and Leia in English.

“Excuse me?” Poe questioned.

“General Hux seems to want to pay me a visit. And while that would normally be inconsequential, if he find you here, he’ll kill you then everyone on this planet.” She spoke harshly towards Leia and Poe. Then, ignoring their scared faces, she turned to her guards and ordered them to stall for as long as possible.

“Does Hux regularly make visits?” Leia questioned with peering eyes.

“No, but it’s not abnormal.” She defended. “Follow me.” She ordered and while Poe was never one to follow orders that didn’t come from Leia, he very eagerly followed with Leia at his heels.

They climbed the stairs to a very isolated sector of the expansive castle, following the heavily tattooed back of the princess. Soon the hallways became less and less filled by people and eventually, they reached a set of large wooden doors. The princess pushed them open with ease, allowing Poe and Leia to follow them into the large room, which unlike the rest of the castle, had no windows.

“Where are we?” Leia questioned as the princess shut the door behind them.

“My personal quarters.” She spoke casually, turning to face the two of them. Poe’s eyebrows raised in curiosity now as he looked around, finally spotting a bed that hardly looked used.

“Why are we here?” He questioned.

“I told you, if Hux finds you, he’ll kill you. And as much as I don’t support the resistance, I don’t want your blood on my hands. I hate messes.” She said with a half cocked smile as she gestured around the room with steady hands. “You’re welcome to anything, just stay here. I’ll deal with Hux and as soon as he’s gone, I’ll get you out to fight the first order all you want.”

“So you just want us to hang out here while our enemy prances around downstairs?” Poe questioned but Leia sat on one of the couches and raised a hand to silence him.

“With every word that comes out of your mouth, the more and more problematic you become.” The princess exclaimed angrily, turning to face Poe and Poe alone. “I’m wondering if I shouldn’t have kept you locked up or shouldn’t hand you over to General red head now.”

“We thank you for all you’ve gone out of your way to do Princess.” Leia spoke calmly, trying to reign Poe back in.

“I’d save my thanks until we’re out of here alive.” Poe warned, flashing the princess a fake smile.

“Don’t open the door to anyone except me, no matter what anyone says, I don’t allow my servants up here.” She added before opening the door and leaving.

“Must you be so hot headed Dameron.” Leis chided before reckoning into her seat even more.

“Would you rather me roll over and wag my tail?” He questioned bitterly.

“I’d rather you didn’t antagonize her, she’s trying her best.”

“Yeah, well, that doesn’t mean I have to like her.” Poe argued angrily, making Leia laugh.

“Right, because this is you, not liking her.” She said sarcastically.

[smoaking-greenarrow]

How about 13 and 15 for the out of context prompts? Thanks!!

Arrow Out of Context prompts! 

“There was probably a better time to tell you that.”

“Probably not.”

William raised his eyebrows at Felicity as she stuck her head around the corner, looking into the kitchen. He pointed a finger at her, “No. Out.”

She frowned, glancing at Oliver. Her husband just shook his head, “You heard him.”

“You guys are being really unfair.” She complained.

“Felicity, you burned the chicken.” Oliver said. He was no help.

“I got another one.” She grumbled.

“Yes. That we now have to rush to have ready on time for Aunt Thea and Roy.”

Felicity frowned some more, doing her best to make her husband feel bad. “I was just trying to help.” She said sweetly.

Oliver gave her a look, “You tried, honey. Now let us do it.”

“Then why does Lydia get to stay in the kitchen?”

“Because she’s two,” Oliver said, smirking as he glanced at his wife still hovering in the doorway, “and I’m not letting her anywhere near the stove. A rule that now applies to both of you.”

“Hey,” Felicity said, crossing her arms, her brows furrowing. Oliver chuckled, putting his knife on the counter and abandoning the vegetables to cross the room. He leaned into her, kissing her pouting lips. “Well what am I supposed to do?” She asked.

He smiled down at her, kissing her one more time because he loved the way her mouth looked. “Just relax.”

With a groan, Felicity wrapped her arms around him. “Fine,” she relented, “but I’m taking the kid with me.” 

Felicity took a step into the kitchen so she could get her daughter, but William stepped in front of her, “Eh!” he warned, pointing to the masking tape he’d put on the floor and written on it in sharpie, “No Felicities past this point.”

She grumbled under her breath, backing up over the tape again while Oliver laughed, finding it much too amusing for her liking. He turned to scoop Lydia up and place her in Felicity’s arms. And then he kissed Lydia’s forehead and Felicity’s before waving his hand towards the living room. She rolled her eyes again, “Yeah yeah, we’re going.”

She left the kitchen, mumbling to her daughter as she headed for the couch. “It wasn’t my fault that the timer never went off.” She told Lydia. When the two year old gave her a disbelieving look as if she knew what Felicity was talking about and she knew it was a lie. Felicity snorted, “Okay, forgetting to set it was probably my fault. But it was an accident. You forgive me, don’t you?”

Lydia nodded enthusiastically, “My forgive you, mommy.”

Sitting on the floor with her daughter, Felicity waited while Lydia roamed through her toys. She seemed to be on a mission for something, and Felicity knew that she was looking for her favorite book. 

Once found, Lydia climbed onto her lap, and Felicity read it four times before the doorbell finally rang.

Her daughter’s head spun around to look at her, and Felicity smiled raising her eyebrows and giving her a wide eyed, excited expression. Lydia mimicked it, “Roy!” she screamed, scrambling off of Felicity’s legs and charging for the door.

Felicity laughed as she followed behind.

Thea was opening the door and Lydia did not bother slowing down at all as she gracefully dodged her aunt and flung herself into Roy’s arms. Thea sighed, looking at Felicity with her hand still on the door. “That still hurts my feelings.”

Felicity lifted her shoulders, “I can’t control it. He’s her first crush.”

“And we all know how Ollie feels about that,” Thea chuckled as Lydia finally gave Thea some attention, leaning out of Roy’s grip to wrap her little arms around her aunt’s neck. “I’m the one who’s related to you!” She joked, tickling the toddler’s sides as she hugged her back.

The giggles that came out of Lydia would never get old, and Felicity smiled as she watched her daughter laugh. Oh, she loved that sound.

Roy closed the door behind them, handing Lydia over to Thea. He gave Felicity a hug. “Hey,” he greeted her, “I heard you almost ruined dinner.”

Felicity groaned, “Oliver!”

“It was too funny not to text them, honey!” He yelled from the kitchen.

She rolled her eyes, “I’m exiled, but William and Oliver are cooking if you want to go say hi.”

After dinner was successfully saved and enjoyed, everyone sat around the table. Lydia begged to sit on Roy’s lap the moment she was done eating, and he and Oliver told William some of their stories about when Roy was on the team. William had heard most of them before, but he loved listening as much as Roy and Oliver loved reminiscing. It was so strange to her, the way they talked about those memories. The way they remembered them. It was like all of the pain and stress they’d experienced together was irrelevant, and all that remained was the pride. The friendship. 

Felicity and Thea still didn’t hesitate to interrupt when they tried to exaggerate their heroic wins, though.

Thea smiled, watching as Lydia stood on Roy’s thigh, moving her fingers through his hair feverishly and ruining the perfectly styled locks. “You know, I remember John and Lyla saying years ago…how everything about what we do changed when they had a baby. Did you guys feel that way, too?”

Felicity shrugged, “Yeah.” Oliver nodded in agreement. “As soon as we had William to take care of, the things we had to think about shifted. It wasn’t just about us anymore.” She said, looking at her son. “And then when Lydia came along, everything changed again. We were just getting the hang of being parents to a young boy,” she said, winking at him. “but a baby was a lot more difficult to work with than this kid. It was late night feedings and constant attention. We had to learn how to do both, and it wasn’t exactly easy to get used to that change.”

Her husband smiled at her, leaning over to brush his daughter’s hair out of her face. “I think we handled it pretty well.”

“She’s a happy girl.” Thea sighed, staring down at her niece with all of the love that Felicity could hope for Lydia to get in her life.

“Thea’s pregnant.” Roy blurted.

Everyone’s heads turned to look at Thea, even Lydia’s hands froze in his hair, probably sensing the tension in the room more than she understood what it meant. Thea just leveled Roy with a look that was mildly annoyed and extremely unsurprised. “I knew you would end up doing that,” was the first thing she said.

“Aunt Thea…” William trailed off, glancing between her and Roy. “You are?”

She nodded, finally looking at her brother, who sat in his chair with his mouth hanging open. She raised an eyebrow at him, keeping her eyes focused on his face as she leaned towards Felicity, “I can’t tell if he’s going to yell, cry, or laugh.” She whispered.

Felicity analyzed Oliver for a moment, “He’s happy. Just give him a minute.” And then she pulled Thea into a hug. “I’m happy! That’s amazing Thea! How did you…I mean, when…”

“I’m about ten weeks.”

“Wow,” Felicity sighed, pulling in to hug her again.

“Thea…” Oliver finally broke out of his shock, shaking his head. “That’s…incredible. How do you feel?”

“I’m good.” She said, nodding. “We wanted to tell you guys tonight.”

Oliver smiled, reaching out to hold his sister’s hand. “I’m so happy for you. For both of you.” He said, nodding to Roy.

“There was probably a better time to tell you that.” Roy cringed.

“Probably not.” Oliver said with a grin.

Later, since Felicity had failed the chicken, William stuck her on dish duty, and she gladly agreed. Roy helped to dry them while she washed, and Lydia danced in and out of their legs where they stood side by side at the sink. “So,” she said, bumping her shoulder against his. “You were kind of quiet in there. The thought of being a daddy a little overwhelming?”

“It’s…exciting…” he said, glancing at her, “and terrifying.”

Felicity smirked at him. She knew the feeling, she and Oliver had both had their fair share of nervous freak outs after they found out they were having Lydia. “Do you see the crazy child attached to your leg?” She asked. “I think that should tell you enough about how great you’ll be at this.”

Roy sighed, “I just never…never imagined myself as a father. I don’t know how great I’ll be at it,” he admitted, setting a plate on the counter. “I can’t picture myself being as amazing of a dad as Oliver is.”

Felicity paused, looking up from the forks she was washing to see Roy’s face. She could tell how serious he was. And her heart just melted. “Oh…Roy…” she mumbled, feeling her eyes fill with water.

He pointed a finger at her, “Don’t you dare. Felicity, pull those tears back in right now, I swear to god. I take it back. He’s an awful dad. He sucks. Why’d you ever marry him?”

She laughed even though the tears fell anyway. 

“Daddy!” Lydia screamed, sending Felicity jumping into the air, the forks she still had in her hand going flying. Roy caught them out of the air easily, giving her an irritated look. 

“Daddy!” Lydia yelled again, and they both looked down at her. Her voice was high with panic, making them both hesitate before she screamed, “Roy make mommy cry!”

“Oh, Lydia, no sweetheart,” she said, leaning down to her as she wiped her face.

Oliver came running into the kitchen, skidding to a stop in the doorway. His eyes narrowed as he focused on Felicity, seeing her red eyes. He glanced at all three of them, confused. “Roy say you’re not good daddy, daddy. And he say mommy not should marry you.”

Oliver’s eyebrows furrowed, his head cocking to the side. “He was kidding,” Felicity chuckled, smoothing Lydia’s hair. “If you’re gonna be my kid, you really need to get a sense for sarcasm, baby.” She teased, pulling her daughter in for a hug.

“I am your kid, mommy.”

“I know,” she said, picking Lydia up. “But Roy didn’t mean that. He was just joking.”

“Then why you cry?” She asked, crinkling her little nose.

Felicity carried her over to Oliver, “Because Roy said he wants to be a really good daddy, just like yours. And it made mommy super happy to hear that.”

“You happy cry?” She asked, her voice raising in high-pitched disbelief.

She laughed, kissing her daughter’s cheek. “Yes.”

Oliver laughed once, putting his hand over his heart, “You scared me.”

“Roy and mommy both think you have the best daddy.” She said, looking up at her husband. His eyes softened as he pulled her under his arm.

“My too.” Lydia agreed, reaching for Oliver, and then all three of them turned to Roy with smiles on their faces. 

He rolled his eyes at all of them, “I’m so out of here.” He said, shaking his head as he tried to leave the kitchen.

“Not without hugs, Roy!” Lydia objected.

Seeing that they were all standing in the doorway, he knew he wasn’t about to get past them without cooperating. With another irritated sound that Felicity saw right through, he hugged them.

And then Thea and William weaseled into the doorway, pushing their way into the hug too, once they noticed all the love happening in the kitchen.

[reading-musing-writing]

Hello!

Allistic sister of an autistic brother who is about 20 here. I've grown up with a hearty percentage of my social circle having autism andI'm hella sick of seeing them horribly represented in my media.

Some things about my brother:

-Fully verbal since he was about six. Speaks pretty well, a lot of people love to say "Oh I didn't even know he was autistic!", which like, is NOT a compliment btw. Rude to do to anyone who's not neurotypical.

- Also stims a lot. Loves to run around the house and twitch his hands. He doesn't do this randomly, he does it when he's thinking of stories. Most stimming is tied to something else, whether a calming behavior or another habit, same as people with ADD or anxiety do.

- Not good at math, but AWESOME at writing and reading. And I got an English Degree with a concentration in Creative writing. He's good, not as good as me obviously *hair flip*, but only because of lack of experience.

- Emotional as hell. He cried during That Scene in Titanic. He cries more than I do tbh, but we also tried not to instill that toxic masculinity in him.

- Also! He's kinda low empathy, but he is one of the few men who has known what to do when he's seen me cry to comfort me. I know a lot of allistic men not capable of the same affection he is.

- He's pretty anti-social outside our family circle, and he has the ADD attention span so those are a few kinda stereotypical traits.

- He has troubles with language acquisition.

- Has understood and used sarcasm appropriately since he was about seven. In my family you learn or you don't communicate.

- Scary good with a shotgun and a very in depth knowledge of weapons, but is a complete pacifist who would probably cry before hitting you. But thay's what big sisters are for.

- He's had both advanced and remedial classes in the same year. He's not a savant (and I swear if I see that trope one more time im going to the writer and personally egging their house), but he's a pretty smart kid.

- He's noise sensitive but absolutely loves heavy metal.

- He does get easily frustrated and overwhelmed which leads to him yelling normally. Like, gotten up and yelled at the teacher during class. (But he's been working on that and gotten better at controlling outbursts, so he's like changed and matured in his life like any other human being)

- Had the five prettiest girls in his grade come to his eighth grade birthday and they were all aparently good friends of his but he never told anyone in the family about??? We were all very surprised tbh

Autism is a SPECTRUM. Yes, we have the savants and the non-verbal folks, but there is a whole lot more. We have a cousin who is non verbal, but still fully capable, although he needs help and supervision when he goes out. My roomate was finishing up her Bachelor's in Engineering while we lived together (which remember girls tend to show symptoms differently than boys and are suuuuper under diagnosed), and she went out on the town more often than I did. She was super social, super dedicated to her studies, and hella smart.

In reference for the things to avoid list, you can use that as like a list of prejudices that autistic people have to go through. My brother is the youngest boy of the family on top of being on the spectrum. My parents literally had to scream at my grandparents because they were coddling him to the point where they were actively undoing his progress from therapy. People are always surprised by how smart he is, and that's just insulting. People with autism (and in my family it was worse because we're Cubans which means they take helicopter parenting to the next level) are often coddled by family memebers, and that's another issue they face. A lot of them are either ignored or given a LOT of attention.

If anyone has any questions for me about my experiences with my autistic friends and family from an allistic perspective feel free to ask! If you have questions about what it's like being on the spectrum I can pass them on to my brother if you're looking for multiple perspectives! But you should talk to multiple people on different points of the spectrum to do proper research.

Hope this helps!

Now go give my brother some good representation damnit!

writing an autistic character when you are not autistic - a masterpost

completely double spaced version on google docs here – this post is more blocky for the sake of people’s dashboards, but still long so people will be less likely to glaze over it. my apologies if that makes it hard to read

things to look for and avoid in an autistic character

• symptoms only manifesting as “nonverbal and rocking” • super smart / living calculator • super dumb / doesn’t understand anything • all the symptoms you can come up with for them are “awkward” and “has special interest(s)” (please do more research) • trains, technology, and/or math as special interests • acting like a child • getting treated like a baby • unreasonably cruel and uncaring about others’ reactions to them being cruel • if they’re comparable to sheldon from the big bang theory, start over • animal comparisons • a lack of feelings • please no stories about what it’s like to be autistic told by allistics

the right way to write an autistic person

• lots of symptoms, including secondary ones not included on a general diagnosis requirement list (here’s a list i rather like that was made by an autistic person – their blog is also a good resource) • having a good amount of general knowledge and actually talking about it (i cannot believe that i have to say this) • talking about things outside of special interests (again…. come on……….) (special interests are usually the default things our brains go to when theres no stimulation or we want to entertain ourselves – it isn’t literally all we think or talk about ever. if a conversation has no connections to a special interest, reconsider having your autistic character bring it up in a context that is not an introduction.) • explicitly expressed to be capable of attraction and romantic feelings – if your character is an adult, add sexual feelings to this point • capable of general functioning, just with a disability that makes it more difficult – not a walking disability (….sigh) • a wide amount of feelings and emotional turmoil (but perhaps only being able to express it in limited ways) • we’re people • just people whose brains are wired differently

things to avoid in research for an autistic character

• autism moms / autism blogs and websites not run by autistic people • any affiliation with autism $peaks means you should walk away and never look back • a scientist trying to create explanations for what autistic people do without actually asking / not mentioning asking autistic people • anything about a cure for autism • a person that “worked with autistic kids” phrased in the same way as “worked with animals” • talking about autistic people as if they are mysteries, are like animals, or are otherwise othered weirdos instead of people

things to look for in research for an autistic character

• actual autistic people talking about their experiences and symptoms • just stick to that and you’re good but it’s hard to find sometimes ngl. just look for the above red flags

things i would personally like to see in an autistic character

• less easy to swallow sadness and more destructive anger. i would love to see a canonically autistic character who was frustrated easily by small things and had trouble communicating why • not a story about being autistic, a story that happens to have a character or characters who are autistic – it isn’t pointed out or questioned, they’re right at home with the rest of the cast and not othered (a la symmetra from overwatch) • intensive sensory issues / small sounds making large reactions • clear communications about not liking x sensory thing (for example being touched) • poor motor skills / clumsiness and not being laughed at for it • walking funny (body bent downwards, walking very fast, walking slowly, big strides, shuffling, stiffness, etc)  – no one treats it as if it’s funny or something totally strange • a big personality that has a presence so they can’t be cast aside (but feel free to have quiet characters too) – if this was along with being nonverbal they would probably leap to being one of my favorite characters ever • a fear of asking for clarification on sarcasm or jokes because of past experiences and an arc about the character becoming more comfortable asking questions

>> if any fellow autistic people want to add something, feel free <<

allistics are encouraged to rb this

[screamingatanemptyroom]

I love you

Three simple words but I couldn’t say them. They echoed in my head over and over but still I kept them trapped. I was never good at hiding things, especially from you. Like I feared, you noticed immediately.

“What’s wrong?”

So many times you listened when I needed you,. Sad times when you would cry along with me, happy times when we would hug and laugh. My restless moments when you held my hand and told me it would be ok, and I believed you. I was overwhelmed by how much I loved you, but I was terrified to speak. 

We had met in fall.

I was uncomfortable and so were you, both brought by friends to an outing meant for the two of them. Stuck and uncomfortable, we searched for topics of interest in common. To my surprise we had a lot. Talking came easily, laughter even easier. I smiled more that night than I had in the last year. I fell asleep dreaming of your smile, hoping I would see you again.

We saw each other more. We took advantaged of every chance we got. The more time we spent together, the more comfortable I became.  My thoughts and dreams were filled with you. Days, weeks and months flew by. I missed you when you were gone and cherished every moment we shared.

Our firsts came and went. We held hands for the first time, and I thought I would die, my heart pounded so fast. When you kissed me I wished that time would stop and I could hold onto this moment forever. We went on dates, saw each other more, and slowly my heart filled.

When did I realize I loved you? I wasn’t even aware how far gone I was until I was past the point of no return. A thousand glances, accidental brushes, shared smiles and laughter slowly overcame me, until I couldn’t deny it to myself any longer. You were a light when I needed one, my place of rest. I wanted you to be happy, I wanted you to smile always.

It terrified me.

I wasn’t a wonderful person, so many faults and imperfections, all glued together with a large amounts of sarcasm and anxiety. Did I really deserve to love you? Didn’t you deserve better? I resolved within myself, I wouldn’t tell you, I couldn’t tell you. Maybe I would be strong enough then to let you go when you found someone better.

All this swirled in my head as I stared at you. You were waiting for an answer, wondering what was wrong.

“It’s nothing.” The lie turned to ash as it crumbled from my lips, it tasted bitter on my tongue. I knew you didn’t believe me, but you didn’t call me out on it. You simply sighed and kissed my cheek.

“Well, I’m here if you need to talk.”

You understood I needed space, and gave it to me. Months had gone by since that first night we talked, but the light brush of your lips against me still made my heart skip a beat. I wanted you to be happy. I loved you so much. Your kind heart, your friendly smile, your stupid puns that always made me laugh. You weren’t perfect, I knew that all too well, but even your faults were wonderful to me because they were yours.

“I love you.”

I gasped and held my mouth. Words I never meant to say had spilled out and hung in the air between us.

A moment of silence passed, I couldn’t breathe.

“Well, that’s a relief.” You said with a grin. “Because I love you too.”

Three simple words, said in a quiet shaking voice, but they changed my life forever.

[butterflyinthewell]

A post in which I tell an ablesplainer anon where to go with a cactus and what to do with it when they get there.

The same message showed up twice and both disappeared when I hit delete. O_o Not sure what was up with Tumblr there, but whatever. I’m gonna make a post instead. I’m howling over this. It was hilarious.

Warning: this gets long and infodumpy. (I’m autistic, it’s what we do!)

I had the best anon ever. By best I mean they were an obviously non-autistic ablesplainer who tried to dictate autism at me. A non-autistic person tried to explain autism to an autistic person. Let that logic sink in.

Now laugh your ass off as hard as I am. HAHAHAHA!!!

This anon said my Groot fics are wrong because (paraphrased to the best of my ability) “I live with a very severely autistic teenager with a 1 year old mind who can’t communicate, wears diapers, screams all the time and is hell to live with! He shows no sign of self awareness or coherent thought that makes somebody a human being. Severely autistic people can’t function in society! You need to shut up and stop writing unrealistic tripe because your stupid headcanon hurts people who suffer with severe autism.”

And I just...

[Animated GIF of Groot (Guardians of the Galaxy) turning to face the viewer while laughing. Yes, anon, he is laughing at YOU.]

Can we have an Ableist Tropes(TM) somewhere? Because this anon hit almost all of the grossest ones about autism.

Anon, I’m gonna assume you’re not autistic, because everybody who describes autistic people like you did tends to be neurotypical. 

First, I’ll plug my Autism Isn’t A Tragedy! series since you gave me an excuse to do so. All the autistic!Groot you could want is right here:

http://archiveofourown.org/series/275382

Now, that said...

I am autistic. I really do know what it’s like to be autistic. I live it every day of my life. I have the same difficulties as people who need a lot of daily help, they’re just distributed differently. I do not live independently and my meltdowns include self-injurious behavior. Being able to speak and dress myself does not mean I have zero struggles. 

Forgive me for being a sarcastic ass here, but I guess that anon has lived with every autistic person ever and has seen how well every autistic person ever can or can’t do things in order to make such a judgment, amirite? 

They must have spent the night with @lysikan, Amy Sequenzia, Carly Fleischmann, Ido Kedar and Emma Zurcher-Long. They are nonverbal / nonspeaking, need lots of daily help and use AAC. There is no such thing as no communication, only communications that are not understood. Anon’s housemate sounds like a nonverbal autistic person who needs lots of daily help and can’t make their communications understood.

(Sarcasm) Anon, you did a nice job of throwing the most vulnerable members of the autistic community under the bus. *Slow clap* Bravo, brava, brav-whatever! What an excellent representative of everything I hate in a caregiver. You could have read my fics and realized you were wrong about the autistic person in your life, but chose instead to push your ideal of autism instead of listening to an autistic person. *more slow claps* Congratulations! You totally missed the point! (/Sarcasm)

Now shut up and listen.

[Groot looking to the upper left hand of the frame. His mouth is slightly open and his expression is sad and pensive as he is processing that his friends are in danger.]

I'm gonna level with you here. If Groot was human, he would need diapers to stay clean. I’m gonna put that out there. He would be urge incontinent and release his waste the instant he felt an urge to go no matter where he was and he wouldn’t even think about going to a toilet because it’s already happening right there where he is. Yeah, oops. 

Since he’s a plant, he gets rid of waste by breathing. Yay, that means no messes, right? Ehh, not quite. If you really read my fics, you would know why. But your comment sounds like you only skimmed, so let me go deeper.

Groot’s only “bathroom issue” is poop smearing, cuz he digs in the septic tank and smears to get rid of a triggering smell in his environment. (Ooh, did I mention his PTSD? Yup, two of the fics in the series, Inner Gardens and It Takes A Forest are about him being triggered as hell and flipping out.)

By the way, if Groot was human and wore clothes, he would need somebody to put the clothes on him or talk him through every little tiny step of getting dressed or else he will stand there holding a shirt and probably try to put it on as pants. Shirts have a lot of holes for body parts to go through, he’ll try them all until he figures it out. Dressing him would be faster and easier for him.

Groot can bathe somebody else no problem. He needs help to take showers himself because they’re so overwhelming that his motor planning goes kaput and he can’t coordinate the movements necessary to wash himself. It’s easier to let Rocket do that. Rocket taught everybody else how to shower Groot because there’s a routine procedure to it, and deviating from it makes Groot go into meltdowns. They go at Groot’s pace. There’s no such thing as “we gotta hurry up” when he’s getting showered.

Groot needs outside prompts to complete many tasks. He’s got no problem doing tasks that can only start and finish one way, like taking Rocket’s gun apart, cleaning it and reassembling it. One step prompts the next. Things that can go really wrong in several ways are a struggle. His brain gets stuck. Sometimes all he needs is to be talked through a task. Sometimes he needs physical assistance for part or all of it.

Groot doesn’t learn by watching, not easily anyway. He learns better if somebody moves his body through the motions of whatever he’s being taught. Moving his body tells his brain how to tell his body what to do. It’s how Quill taught him every dance move he learned to do once he got out of his little pot post-GOTG. <3

Groot can pilot a ship. You read that right. Groot can pilot a ship. Not in a dogfight, mind you, but he can fly something from point A to point B as long as somebody shows him around the controls of any ship he’s going to fly. Rocket teaches him how to fly by using hand-under-hand-- Groot places his hands over Rocket’s and follows them through all the standard procedures for a normal flight. Then Groot takes the helm and Rocket leads his hands to everything while telling him what it all does. A simulation for all the alarms and warnings helps Groot’s “omg what if I fuck up?” anxiety. Once Groot has all that, he’s fine.

[Still image of Groot flying the Milano. His hands are on the controls and he’s peering intently ahead at a green nebula reflected on the cockpit window. Inside that nebula is Knowhere.]

The way Groot processes his environment means it takes him longer than others. He has to process information from each eye, put both together and then he perceives depth. Movement is the first thing his visual systems pick up, so he can dodge something coming at him before he processes what exactly it is. It goes movement, shape, size, depth, color and details. He uses his peripheral vision first because looking straight on at something new overwhelms him. He’ll skirt his gaze around the edges of something before he looks dead on at it.

Hearing works similarly, though he doesn’t have to process each ear individually. He still has to put what he sees and hears together. This takes about a second or two. That’s slow compared to milliseconds.

Groot is nonverbal by alien standards although he talks fine by Flora Colossi standards. He’s okay with that description. He uses behavior and AAC as communication in my fics because my headcanon has it that only some of his “I am Groot”’s are understandable to Drax, Gamora and Quill-- Rocket understands almost all of them because he’s had more experience with Groot than the others.

Part of why Groot says “I am Groot” is neurological. The other part is his stiff, wooden larynx.

Rocket knows all of Groot’s behavior cues. He can spot a meltdown about to happen a mile away. (Groot gets a blank stare, and about a minute later the wrist biting and head punching starts.) He can tell when Groot is getting overstimulated by observing the tension in his body and how “cranky” he’s acting. Even though he knows, he often asks Groot “Are you getting overstimulated?” before he takes mitigation measures. Because Rocket respects Groot’s autonomy.

By the way, overstimulated Groot can’t navigate a chaotic environment safely. He almost gets himself seriously hurt in Disclosure when he takes traffic laws literally and stops in the middle of a street because the light turned and he thinks he’ll get arrested if he walks when the light says “don’t walk”. 

Rocket usually gets on Groot’s shoulder and he’ll be a navigator instead, telling Groot where to walk. This lets Groot focus on actually walking somewhere so he doesn’t freeze up between “I need to walk” and “It’s too chaotic” and end up going into a meltdown. Rocket uses touch, pointing and short suggestions until Groot relaxes again. If a meltdown is inevitable, Rocket tries to get Groot somewhere less public and helps him through it. And Rocket is never embarrassed by Groot’s meltdowns, he’s more concerned with comforting Groot and keeping him safe.

Groot wants to be bodily restrained by his friends during a meltdown, and Rocket taught the other Guardians how to do that. Being restrained helps him “feel” his body and makes the meltdown less scary because being held onto is a tactile prompt to not bite himself. Even if he struggles, he prefers being restrained over beating the utter shit out of himself.

Plus, if he breaks his bark open, he risks pathogens getting sealed in when he heals and then he can get sick, and that’s about two to three days of almost constant SIB right there. He doesn’t want to have SIB, but he can’t control it once it starts. He needs help to calm down. (Contrary to what you believe, anon, autistic people are self-aware! Probably as much or moreso than NT’s.)

[Still shot of Groot staring at something out of frame. His normally brown eyes look silver due to the lighting. Possibly a nod to Riddick, a character with silver eyes played by Vin Diesel?]

Groot can’t live independently except on his home planet where all Flora Colossi have autistic neurology. Their brains are geared for that environment; it’s when they leave it that they have trouble. They’re innate carers, so they take care of each other. There were Flora Colossi more disabled than Groot who never uproot themselves from where they grow (No-Walkies), yet they were the most revered members of Flora Colossi society. They were the centers of Forests (families) and they got lovingly cared for.

I guess you completely missed that Groot’s brain and “everywhere not planet X” clash. I show it the most in Disclosure, where Groot barely makes it through the city alone (guided by a prompting program on his datapad) and can’t get back to the hotel because his datapad doesn’t have a return trip programmed in and the hotel doesn’t have a homing beacon like the Milano does. 

So Groot can’t and doesn’t live independently, he lives interdependently.

Also, Groot is very well-supported by his friends. They are friends who understand his needs and work with them. They swerve into his lane instead of forcing him to swing into theirs because he’ll probably crash. He can’t help how his brain works, but his friends can adjust things so they’re less of a shock to his system and ask him what works best.

Rocket advocates for Groot, though he doesn’t pretend to know Groot more than Groot knows himself. He can admit when he’s not sure what to do. Groot’s ability to communicate understandably goes kaput when he’s in distress. If he’s flipping out, the other Guardians’ immediate goal is to soothe him, get him calm and see if he can tell them what’s wrong. 

His behavior talks. His self-injurious meltdowns chill right out if he’s just overstimulated. If they keep going, something else is going on and it takes literally everybody in the ship to control Groot’s SIB until the problem gets worked out.

Groot can’t localize pain unless he sees what causes it. A cut off arm, yeah, he’s gonna know what hurts. An abscess in his cambium tissue? His entire body will throb and the SIB gets vicious. Sick Groot is not fun to be around, and he knows how hard he is to handle when he’s sick or his PTSD is triggered.

Drax was nonverbal as a child and learned to speak on his own. His input is highly valued, even though Rocket will be a snarky asshole about it sometimes. Rocket understands that Drax being autistic too means he has a better innate understanding of how Groot experiences the world around him. Even though Drax thinks purely in words and Groot’s thoughts are sensory information, they share similar sensory issues. Drax sometimes suggests things when Groot is having a SIB storm and those suggestions are always listened to. His advice helps the Guardians help Groot in It Takes A Forest.

Groot is 100% competent, but he can’t always show it. He is exactly a realistic representation of a nonverbal autistic person who needs lots of daily help and sometimes can’t make his communications understood if his communication aids aren’t present (be it Rocket or his AAC datapad).

More importantly, Groot is an autistic person with a lot of support needs who has those support needs met. Autistic people with a lot of support needs function well if they are accommodated where they are instead of expected to meet a standard beyond what their brain can cope with.

Rocket sees Groot as the best friend he has and will ever have. (I write them as a queer-platonic pair. Watch anon’s head spin!) Groot’s quirks are what make him Groot, they’re not problems to be trained away. 

Rocket absolutely adores how caring Groot is-- and honestly Groot takes care of Rocket as much as Rocket takes care of Groot. Rocket has a lot of support needs himself due to mental illness (c-PTSD), chronic pain (cybernetic implants cause it) and an invisible disability (epilepsy). Rocket and Groot’s needs are like teeth in a zipper, so they support each other. It’s not one sided at all.

[Profile view of Groot looking directly into Rocket’s eyes (a rare, intimate gesture for him) as he is wiping Rocket’s tears away with a vine. They are surrounded by Groot’s greenery and Groot’s golden glowing spores hang like stars in the background. Gamora is also visible behind them, albeit blurry.]

Rocket loves Groot with all his heart, just as much as Groot loves Rocket back. And while Rocket gets frustrated with Groot sometimes (just like Groot sometimes is frustrated with Rocket), he wouldn’t change him for the world and he’ll blow the head off anybody who suggests otherwise.

Anon, you live with accommodations every day. You don’t think about them because they’re the “normal” kind. You got phones so you don’t have to run to someone’s house to tell them something. You’ve got cars, buses, airplanes and trains to get places faster. You live in a house somebody probably built years ago. Somebody built the computer or phone you’re using to send me your nasty ableist tripe. And those accommodations are acceptable.

But, in your mind, anyone who needs more than that is taking too much and “omg no fair!!!!” That seems to be the running theme of every ableist person who won’t accommodate a disabled person. They don’t want to be inconvenienced.

Disabled people CAN live great lives if their support needs are met.

And if you don’t believe me, just look at Stephen Hawking. Different disability, very similar needs. Take his computer away and he’s nonverbal, needs lots of daily help and can’t make his communications understood. He has all the support he needs to do the things he wants with his life. He is a man who revolutionized how we think about black holes and the universe.

[Stephen Hawking and his entourage meeting Queen Elizabeth.]

Ablesplainers are annoying. I hope my “autistisplanation” sinks in through their ableist skull, but I ain’t gonna hold my breath. Ablesplainer anon, please go fuck a cactus on Uranus and have a nice day. :)

[gothtistic-stims]

I was feeling invalid

Quick warning: the is a *long* post, and the invalidity I felt was actually remedied by writing this, so do not feel obligated to read it all! Sure, when I was younger I chose to be alone a *lot*, but I had friends. I was socially awkward, sure, but what 5 year old is really that great at being social? Yeah, whenever I went somewhere new I would cling to my sister and be completely unable to make new friends, but by the same token, at a *very* young age I figured out an algorithm for making and maintaining friendships: compliments! I think it was when I was 8 that I figured this out, which was fortunate because at around 7 kids were no longer friends with the entire class, and making friends was no longer easy. At 7, I found myself alone at recess nearly every day, hyperfixated on finding 4-leaf clovers (I was finding at least 1 a day at one point), so when I discovered the compliment algorithm I was able to smoothly transition and continue making friends. Of course, I still chose to be alone for a vast majority of recesses. But being asocial doesn't mean I'm autistic. I was an extremely naiive child, kids easily lied to me and I believed them. But being naiive in and of itself doesn't necessarily mean I'm autistic. When I was in kindergarten I was friends with someone. Close friends. In first grade, however, she avoided me like I was the plague. I cried and cried, and even confronted her, and she basically just told me "idk, I guess I just don't really like you." But having a person dislike me doesn't mean I'm autistic. I was always moving as a child, I had attention problems, and I also was diagnosed with both adhd and ocd when I was only 8. I talked too fast and was known to mumble (I say "was" as if I don't still do those things now lol). I also many times forget the word I want to use, and I end up blabbering nonsense trying to figure out how to convey what I want to say. Sometimes I don't forget whole words, I can't translate my thoughts because my thoughts aren't organized like normal thoughts. A majority of the time I am thinking in either pictures or feelings rather than words, and I simply can't say anything related to the topic I want to talk about because in my mind there are literally no words to even begin explaining it. I'm 1000% better at writing than talking. But speech problems don't necessarily mean I'm autistic. I guess I had experience with going partially nonverbal, but I never had a word to describe being physically unable to speak or initiate conversations unless spoken to first. But again, going partially nonverbal sometimes doesn't mean I'm autistic. When I was little my sister was diagnosed with aspergers. She would throw huge tantrums/melt down easily, so a lot of the focus went to her. I never really had any melt downs. In fact, when I was 6, my sister paid me a nickle to not cry in front of her, and it took *years* to be able to cry in her vicinity again. However, I was certainly not immune to crying; I was an empath. If you were crying, chances were I was crying too. Whenever my sister had a meltdown I would feel her pain, and I would hide in my favorite place underneath the same chair. I *had* to cry there. But high empathy doesn't mean I'm autistic - in fact, there's even a stereotype that autistics don't feel empathy at all. When I was 11, I was half forced out of my friend group and half decided for myself to leave it. I had one friend at the time, and she (let's call her "M") was hella popular. I never fit into the friend group. I was invited to fewer and fewer parties as time went on, and no one in the group except for my one friend liked me. Eventually she stopped liking me too, and I was left to fend for myself. But being disliked doesn't mean I'm autistic. I was briefly friends with the girl I was assigned to share a seat with on the bus. We started a whole mini show routine that we would do every day on the bus. It was called the Stupid and Cupid Show. Despite my efforts to get her to change the name, I was stuck being known as "Stupid." I never realized at the time how horrible that name made me feel, but it didn't matter, because eventually she left me as well. As is said in the last paragraph, being disliked doesn't mean I'm autistic. In seventh grade I was looped into a whole strange "family" (which is a story for another time) and suddenly had a *ton* of people considering themselves to be friends with me. It was around then that I realized I was touch averse, because PEOPLE I DIDN'T KNOW KNEW MY NAME AND KEPT HUGGING ME WITHOUT ASKING. Fortunately this didn't last long either, because like all of my frienships, it dissolved pretty quickly. This time, however, everyone blamed me for something I didn't do, and I was left with that entire huge group hating me. I didn't even find out why everyone suddenly hated me until a year later. But useless teen (not even, we were like ~11-12 years old) drama doesn't mean I'm autistic. My entire time in middle school was honestly horrible. My typical algorithm for making friends stopped working, and while I found a temporary replacement (empathizing with people as conversation) it was not nearly as effective. I was never exactly bullied per se, I just got stuck in the same classroom with some really fuckin mean people. I called them all "Tapper Dude." They would bang out off beat tunes on their desks *constantly*. This banging was sensory HELL ( though i didn't know the term "sensory hell" yet). I was going home and often crying because of the stress of being trapped with these people who wouldn't stop (the teachers didn't even try to stop them despite my many, many complaints). I couldn't do anything, couldn't work,couldn't concentrate, and would literally beg my teachers to let me work in the hallway so I could finally have some peace. They literally never let me work in the hallway, despite it being silent (except for that damn banging) individual work. ( I'm honestly still fuckin pissed that my teachers did nothing to help me!) But being hypersensitive to some banging on a desk doesn't mean I'm autistic. Jumping back to never being able to sit still, I still stim today. Not nearly as much then as I do now though. The need to stand rather than sit in my desk at school coulde easily be attributed to my adhd. On top of needed to stand, I was always doodling on my worksheets. Teachers would make me redo the entire sheet if they found my doodles, or they would grab my drawing off of my desk and crumple it up and throw it in the trash. Even as I type this now, my legs are shaking and bouncing and hitting each other. But this could easily be blamed on my having adhd. Having ADHD doesn't mean I have autism. I had weird fixations when I was younger. At 5 it was finding 4-leaf clovers, at 9 it was arranging bookshelves, which after ~6 months evolved into an obsession with reading classics. At only 9 years old, I attempted to read the entirety of Mobey Dick (I didn't get a chance to finish, the school year ended and I had to return the book to the school library 😣). Up until I was 8 I was obsessed with all things medical ( which involved reading the same 3 books over and over and over again). At 17 I became obsessed with slugs /sea slugs ( as I'm sure many of you are aware) along with developing an obsession with autism in and of itself. And ever since I was 5, I've been obsessed with hypnosis, the topic is in my brain basically 24/7, though I try to ignore this obsession because it's nearly impossible to find good media representations of it. I was exposed to porn at a very young age because of my seeking out hypnosis related material, and ever since then I've been wary of seeking it out for fear of finding even more erotic content 😣😣😣. Basically, what I'm saying is, I have had special interests, but I've also seen that something similar (hyperfixations) can be found in, once again, adhd!! So special interests don't necessarily mean I'm autistic. Eye contact. Hello darkness my old friend :)). I honestly have always hated eye contact, but, just like with my social skills, I figured out a loophole at an extremely young age. Foreheads and noses are an autistics best friends, and using these tools, I believe I've effectively fooled everyone I've encountered into think I have good eye contact. Honestly, up until I learned more about autism, I kinda just assumed eye contact was a figure of speech or something that people said better never actually did. But poor eye contact doesn't mean I'm autistic. Figures of speech are weird. I often overthink them to the point of incomprehensibility. I use figures of speech all the time (in fact I believe I used one earlier in this very post), but I've begun to suspect that all of the figures of speech I "understand" are only understood because school spent so much time drilling the meaning into my head. My suspicions arised from the fact that whenever I hear a new figure of speech, I don't understand what it means, even sometimes after it's been explained to me. On top of that, with sarcasm, I can only understand it if it's used by someone I know well. Understanding or not understanding figures of speech don't necessarily mean I'm autistic though. I've always been accident prone. I crash into walls and tables and chairs. I've also fallen both up and down the stairs. My fine motor movements also took much longer to develop as compared to others. Messy scissor cuttings, messy shirt after eating, and messy handwriting. My mom calls my handwriting "chicken scratch", though I personally don't think it's that bad. But poor coordination doesn't mean I'm autistic. When I was little, I only ate like 3 things. Everything else was considered absolutely disgusting. My parents would literally pay me to try certain foods, but it usually ended up being gross or a bad texture. Smells could also be *incredibly* overwhelming. Ketchup especially. I was supposed to clear the table every day, but whenever my parents used ketchup, I would either cry until they let me off the hook or pay my sister to do it for me. Even now, I refuse to even touch a clean ketchup bottle, it's just g r o s. My mom also eats this really gross cranberry chicken salad thing that I can't even be on the same level of the house when she's eating it because it'll literally cause me to cry. I also can't touch the carpet barefoot, and certain textures are *horrid*. Though not formally diagnosed with either autism or sensory processing disorder, I am 100% sure I have sensory processing disorder. My sensory issues are worse than my sister's, and she's actually been diagnosed with autism! From others, I've never really mentioned that I think I'm on the autism spectrum; I don't think they'd believe me. I seem to hold a conversation just fine! ( that is,until we're in a group of more than two people. Then I lose the ability to tell when it's my turn to speak, so I end up remaining silent, half because I don't know when it's my turn and half because I can never get a word in anyway). Sure, the few friends I have (the empathy algorithm stopped working because my friends broke me and I actually lost all empathy, which I'm still trying to recover from. The latest algorithm is bombarding the person with questions when you can't get a conversation going. * something* has to spark a conversation, right!? W r o n g. This is why I'm down to 3 or 4 friends.) all agree I'm incredibly socially awkward. And sure, I fill any silence with stimming, usually involving grabbing things I'm not supposed to touch or poking the person I'm with (idk man, my brain goes into panic mode and it just keeps repeating "poke them" until I appease it). In fact, just yesterday I hung out with a friend, and we had a casual good time. It's times like these that *really* make me question whether or not I'm autistic. Though it may sound like it, I'm not saying it's impossible for an autistic to have friends - in fact, in the short year that I've had this blog, I've managed to befriend quite a few of you wonderful people! I guess I'm just saying that while autistics can have friends and still be valid, *I* can't. Of course, having no friends doesn't mean I'm autistic ( much in the same way having friends doesn't mean I'm *not* autistic ). Overall, I'm worried my social awkwardness / social deficits, though they do exist, aren't enough to actually consider myself autistic. I am confident that I have ADHD and SPD, but what if those two are just combining to closely mimic autism? My blog has gotten fairly popular, and I'm really feeling invalid tonight, so I figured I'd outline the main symptoms and let you guys determine if you're okay with me running an autism blog and using the tags. I still think I have autism, and I shouldn't need to get validation from strangers on the internet, but I felt like it was important to outline this.

[somethinghastomatter]

It Could Get Better

Resting against the wall in a dust covered corner of my room is a stack of books from my undergraduate studies and some advanced copies I was able to take home from the book store I worked at after college. Two of the books have particularly ominous covers, almost like ancient tomes that could teach me dark magic. One is called Personality Disorders: Toward the DSM-V (dated I know) by Donohue, Fowler and Lilienfeld and the other is Abnormal Psychology 7th Edition by Ronald J. Comer. As I mentioned, they rest in a corner of dust. I haven’t touched them in some time, even though the content of each is on my mind daily. Like many people now in first world countries, I am aware of mental health. Like many people from this thing called a family, I have experienced the highs and lows of people struggling with it. Like many people who want to better themselves, I know my own shortcomings in that department.

I spent a lot of time in undergrad wondering if I have any type of mental disorder. We’d begun studying body dysmorphia and suddenly I realized how unpleasant and lumpy my body was. The chapters on schizophrenia had me questioning if what I heard on a daily basis was real or in my head. Psychology is like magic in the sense that it controls everything and it isn’t necessarily safe. You can easily lose yourself in a spiral of doubt, self-deprecation, and misery. I’m writing about this so clearly I’m all better, right? I don’t have any struggles and I got over my pains, onward to a bigger and better life. Well, the latter half is true, the part about onward to a better life, but the rest is clearly a poor attempt at sarcasm and humor.

I’d like to clarify as we move further into this life essay that I am writing from a place of personal perspective. While what I write is influenced by undergraduate studies, I am by no means authorized to distribute psychological information or care. I’m just a nerdy writer that wants you to know I get it and it can get better.

If you’re like me, you think that getting past something means clearly defining it. I see both benefit and harm in that process. I have not been clinically diagnosed with anything. While I have not sought medical assistance, I’m always happy to hear when people do. My own reasons have to do with my dad and his history of pharmacological mishaps which is something I may write about when I’m ready. For now, it isn’t entirely relevant. The point is I know I have stress from traumatic events and they changed me. They’ve made me an anxious and tightly wound person who is also more empathic. I survived and I keep moving forward.

For some people having a name for what they’re feeling offers relief and for others it causes more pain and frustration with themselves. I personally look at who I’ve become as “me under stress”. I do this because for a long time I was incredibly harsh and disappointed towards myself. I tried meditation and talking to people but these “problematic traits” lingered. The more I obsessed with ridding myself of them the more I spun out. What helped me were some simple words from a man who had had respectively dealt with some shit.

I was clearly in a bad place, working my way through another panic attack. He gave me a spiel about working towards goals and keeping busy which I dismissed as distractions. Nihilism will do that. When he asked me what makes me happy, I told him I didn’t know. He pressed and I gave simple answers, ones that I didn’t imagine you could build a life around. Kayaking. Writing. Star Wars. Friends. It wasn’t a great career or dramatic goal to aspire for. Just some indications of who I was. In a moment of bravery, I admitted that I’m afraid I’ll never find anything that really fulfills me. His answer I think about pretty much every day: “You don’t know unless you try.” No appeal to a higher consciousness. No guarantee that things could work. Just a logical reminder that they could.

Thankfully that did it for my brain. All the seemingly pointless pain and suffering in the world was clear to me but I could at least counter myself by understanding that while those experiences are true, so are the great ones. It’s all real and all happening. I worry a little less about worrying now. I’m writing plays again, playing tabletop games with friends, and seeking adventure when time permits. If I don’t like shit, I don’t keep giving it my time and attention. I take care of myself because even if I don’t feel an inherent drive to, I always feel better after I do. I am weird. And anxious. And I wonder if I feel things like other people. I got freaked out reading The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath because of how much I understood it. Maybe I do lean towards sadness or apathy. But I do have my moments. I can laugh like a clown, dance like a madman, and write stuff that people enjoy. Sometimes I feel cold and don’t give a shit but other times I feel overwhelmed. I don’t spend so much energy now trying to control my mood or define what is irritating or setting me off. I’m just living, as me, working at being better and treating myself right along the way. Like I said, it’s all true.