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#some possibility the adhd was there
senadimell · 2 years
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Fun fact: I have an ancestor who abandoned his birthright to move to the US...so he could be closer to rocks and become a gentleman miner in his spare time. Not a subsistence miner, sixteen-tons style, mind you, so I know this was not a decision born out of economic desperation, but a hobbyist miner who used his legitimate business to fund his rock fascination, and if collectively delighting over examining the ancestral rock collection at the family reunion is not relatable, then I suspect there may not be enough autism in your family.
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poorly-drawn-mdzs · 9 months
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His palms are sweaty, knees weak, arms are heavy.
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idontcaboose · 3 months
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Haunted car au?
I am writing this purely on mobile, so format might get weird, sorry in advance.
Danny didn't mean to get stuck, honest. But a dare is a dare, and damnit if he wasn't going to get that fifty dollars from Jason, "I stole the wheels at the age of 12" Peters. Danny would bet that same fifty that Jason was just waiting for him to come back and tell Jason he got zapped so he could laugh at him. Jerk.
But... accidentally possessing the Batmobile after the zap was completely unintentional. Wait, would this mean he gets double the money? He did get the sticker put on before he possessed the car.... He did also technically successfully hijack the car, which would totally constitute a bonus.... Would this be grand theft auto if he is the car... can a car steal itself? He was dumped out of his slightly hysterical panic by a weird feeling in his... engine? and felt himself? move in a way that he did not control. Where was he going? Why was he going? HOW FAST CAN THIS THING GO?
Needless to say, Danny's night was going poorly. Failed dare, grand theft kidnapping, unwilling participant of picking up an injured Batman, and now knowing the exact route to get to the super secret Bat Cave, that is, in fact an actual CAVE. If Jason doesn't pay him triple the amount AND cook him food for a week, he will riot.
Now.... how to....
HOOOOOONNNNNKKKK
...... oops
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Next?
The prompt by @kizzer55555 is linked Here
@trappednyourheart
@candeartist422
@sebas-nights
@fandom-life-corrupted-me
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worstwolverinesbf · 5 months
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the batfam as things i and others have said pt 2
jason talking about his death: everyone has bad days, everyone gets blown up sometimes
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tim: dad, how old are you?
bruce: old enough
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dick: the moon is in a phase
tim: what is it, emo?
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jason talking about tims mental state: its being held together with zip ties and a dream
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steph when a bat appears: i hate when men do that… appear out of thin air
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bruce, deadpan: i was gonna say who has a mobile number (police number) but it’s the police
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tim talking about wifi: it keeps dropping out
jason: of high school?
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bruce: are you on something?
little dick: FREEDOM
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tim after scrolling on tumblr for too long: teenagers relate to murder
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dick after fighting slade too many times: he’s always down to kill kids and i respect that
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pt 1
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caindiis · 1 year
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nothing more devastating than coming back to the tag of your fav and seeing the most recent post is still your own
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gayvampyr · 10 months
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the downside of knowing the difference between 'affect' and 'effect' is having to be painfully aware of it every time it's used incorrectly
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Today I heard a medical professional casually mention that I "of course shouldn't lose weight" (and I'm like. kinda fat by fatphobic standards although I would just call it "pretty average"). Thank you normal and sensible people reminding me not everything is the sort of hell that I see Americans talk about on tumblr.
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nexus-nebulae · 3 months
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me as a kid: i have all these problems
every adult around me: you're not old enough to know what's wrong with you, you're fine
me as an adult: i still have all these problems
my doctors after i finally got the opportunity to choose them myself: oh my fucking god why have you never gotten help for all these problems. you should have seen me 10 years ago
#problems i have finally gotten help for that i was told i was not old enough to know about:#AMPS (was told it was anxiety and then when i kept coming back they said it was fibro Quite Literally just to get me to shut up)#(like the doc i just saw literally said 'they diagnose fibromyalgia here when they dont know what the problem is but dont feel like testing)#multiple food allergies (was also told the stomach pain and vomiting was anxiety)#seborrheic dermatitis (i was told 'youre just stressed thats why you have a rash')#(which- if im so stressed my skin is literally dying MAYBE I STILL NEED HELP?????????)#autism and adhd (my father knew! but refused to get me assessed bc if i dont have a diagnosis theres no problem right :)#anxiety disorder (oh so when I'm in pain i DO have anxiety but when i say i have anxiety I'm overreacting okay)#dyscalculia and possibly dyslexia ('you just need to try harder' I've asked for a tutor five times)#some of my doctors don't actually believe me about some of these problems BECAUSE i have no records from when i was a kid#they're like 'it just popped up at 18? seems suspicious......' like I WASN'T ALLOWED TO GO TO THE DOCTOR'S UNTIL THEN#there's definitely more but I'm still mad abt it#i might not be in a wheelchair Almost All The Time if i had gotten help BEFORE i lost half the feeling in my legs#i KNEW the fibro was a BS diagnosis#i tried to get assessed for autism at 16 and was told i have schizotypal personality disorder instead with literally zero testing#like my psych just refused to allow me to get tested for autism she was like 'no you have spd i Just Know'#same psych that said there was zero way i had anything like DID because my symptoms didn't present Exactly like the Only other#patient at the clinic with DID. i want to note that that was a 14 year old boy still being actively abused#and i was a 20 year old who was in a safe environment and had distanced myself from my abusers and stressors
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Interesting. Don’t necessarily think I’m autistic but I have more going on than just ADHD and I’m not sure what that is.
#I’m not even sure if the ADHD is actually ADHD either or if it’s just technology addiction#Gonna get a REAL neuropsych evaluation at some point out of sheer curiosity as to what the fuck is wrong with me#I relate to a lot of autistic things and I relate to a lot of ADHD things; but I don’t entirely relate to the majority of either population#and I don’t relate to people with both enough to think I have both#I’ve begun treating myself as if I am autistic just for Kicks and using things that help them and it’s helping in some ways#but I know it’s probably not autism because even though I struggle socially; it’s not because of the same reasons#I understand social cues; I was only accidentally perceived as rude as a kid (and most kids are kind of blunt)#(Mostly a moderate amount of “Stop correcting me! It’s disrespectful!” from my parents)#And nowadays because of how much psychology and acting I study; I can perceive shrimp social cues#And I’m purposefully doing all the right things but it still feels like I fail social interactions because of my lack of assertiveness#which I KNOW come from being raised in a cult#so perhaps my odd social behavior is from CPTSD from being raised in a puritan doomsday cult as an only child#Because I was NOT introverted or sensitive to others as a child#I did not have routines as a child and the ones I did have were for fun and did not distress me if I strayed from them#But now I need structure as an adult because I don’t know what else to do with myself if I have nowhere to be#But at the same time everyone feels worse when they have no routine or expectations#And is it actually inattentive ADHD or severe derealization and an itch to do as many things as possible#because I spent my childhood being raised in a boring doomsday cult by disabled older parents who couldn’t physically do much?#(And I don’t fault my parents for being disabled but I do fault them for the whole doomsday cult thing)#So I spent my whole childhood doing mentally tedious things when really I’m more wired for physically spontaneous things#Because I was not allowed to walk around the neighborhood alone until I was sixteen#And I couldn’t hang out with friends I wanted to hang out with because they were bad association#So of course I got really good at drawing even though I don’t even like drawing that much#Of course I got really good at writing even though I don’t like writing that much#Now that I don’t need to escape from anything I find I actually hate drawing and writing because it’s such a chore#they make my heart rate accelerate in a way I don’t like to feel#(I hate writing less than drawing)
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mister13eyond · 7 months
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talking to a friend about getting back into art and i think the #1 most important piece of art advice i could ever get or give is just "figure out what is FUN to you"
like i think there is sooooo much emphasis on how to build SKILL in art but a lot of it really treats art like a job or like video game grinding, like it's this thankless job that you have to work at in order to reach a Threshold and i know it's not EASY to make yourself have fun but like
imo a solid 70% of the reason i create art is because the Act of Drawing is fun to me. it's fun problem-solving and planning and putting down lines and playing with colors and tools. it's fun to depict little scenes in my head or to create outfits or to find ways to fill the canvas. never forget that creating can be fun. sometimes it's hard and sometimes you have to battle through your own blockades to get there but the ultimate goal should always be to ENJOY it, to find what you enjoy doing and then do it forever. improvement will follow enjoyment.
i think especially with all the debate about ML image generation it's more important than ever to embrace FUN. if you're only focused on the end result it's so easy to get in your own head- to think about what doesn't look good or what skills you don't have yet or to compare yourself to other artists. but photography didn't kill the art of drawing and AI won't either because, simply put, there will always be people who want to do the physical act of making art because it's fun to do! using paints and markers, splashing colors around, doing shitty pen doodles, using the symmetry tool in your art program to do abstract mandalas that are just squiggles formed into patterns. do art like you're 5 and you've been handed markers to pass the time. do art like you're bored in class and you're keeping your brain entertained by drawing stick figure comics in the margins. do art like an absent thing, do art because it satisfies your brain. the goal is not to make something beautiful and perfect, the goal is to make something because your hands need to make and your body needs to make.
#i know and love so many people who have intense anxiety about their ability to create art and who are so hard on themselves about the result#and i think that's a REALLY easy thing to feel because creating is also vulnerable & physically difficult and there is SOOOO much to master#but i think for me the people who churn out 300 colored pencil front facing hands behind their backs oc doodles on lined notebook paper-#are the ones with the right idea. they're the ones i aspire to be like#i'm not saying i never struggle either bc tbh#as someone with depression and adhd there are times where the Act of Having Fun is simply not possible#sometimes i CAN'T enjoy things because my ability to feel joy is locked behind a barrier of my mental illness#so i don't think it's an Easy thing to do by far and I don't think you can just Magically Make Yourself Happy And Having Fun#but i DO think that experimenting in a low-stakes low-pressure manner until you find something that clicks in your brain helps#doing things for the sake of doing them is the only way to figure out which ones WILL be fun to you#not all of them will. some things will feel like a slog#but i think you have to look for the passion before you're able to face the slog#if you jump right into the parts that are Hard and Challenge Your Limits it's easy to spin your wheels and get stuck#but if you focus on the super small stakes and the things that are thoughtless and focused more on Sensation-#the sensory experience of mixing paint or the scratch of pencil on paper or the smooth way a specific pen makes lines-#then you can lose yourself in the physical aspect of it FIRST#and then once you've started really ENJOYING those sensations you can start learning new ways to use them#because now you have the drive to want to do more#now you have the desire to find new ways to apply this thing you like doing#long post#even longer tags#art#drawing#artists#art advice
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darthsuki · 9 months
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To me, marriage is all about growing as a person alongside your partner/s and continuously learning new things about one another
And apparently I was the last one to realize that I may be demiromantic and my wife has been waiting for me to come to that conclusion like a mouse being observed in a cheese maze
Basically it went like:
Me, on the topic of previous crushes while they’re getting ready for work: Haha I’ve just been dumb with reading emotions, never understood how crushes worked, but I had a relationship in high school and college.
Alex: Did you have romantic feelings for *them*, or the thought of being in a relationship itself? You can love the idea of romance and not feel it yourself—it’s a spectrum too. You don’t pick up romantic queues unless it’s directly asked of you.
Me, starting to think for a solid five minutes: Oh… oh god. I didn’t have feelings for Rob in high school and Jake was just to rebel against my parents.
Alex: Yeah, there’s the realization, now give me my shirt you dork.
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quatregats · 16 days
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When will they diagnose me with iPad baby disease and put me on meth :')
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Part 1 Part 3 Part 4
(can be read as a standalone)
STEVE LOOKS AT HIS BIG EMPTY HOUSE AND THINKS FUCK IT
(ft. a heartbreaking realization followed bi gay panic and way more Eddie than initially intended. Also: Steve becomes a dad)
cw: drinking, mention of drugs, mentions of homophobia, Steve going through it once again
cool and correct steve playlist
Bullshit.
Steve is good at being alone.
He is even better at pretending that he isn't lonely. That being lonely and being alone is the same thing. Because not being alone is easy. He can do something against that. Throw a party. Fill his house with people until he can barely take a step without stumbling into someone. Say stupid shit in class so that everyone has no choice but to be aware of him. Study with Nancy even if the material refuses to get into his head no matter how often he reads over it and he just feels so fucking stupid. Drive the kids around even if their screaming gives him a headache (his mother said that headaches have always been in the family anyways).
Your love is bullshit.
In fact, he got so good at this over the years, that he almost started to believe it himself.
And isn't it funny how, as soon as he can't run away from the truth anymore, cannot deny that he is so fucking lonely that it hurts and that he has never not been, that he tries again and again but it never works and the problem must be with him, right? Even Nancy has Jonathan, and all Steve has is bullshit - as soon as he admits to himself that he is fucking lonely, he wants to be alone.
It isn't fair, because parties were always his escape. Music that is loud enough to drown out his pathetic heartbeat, longing and screaming for another one with every pump. Enough alcohol for him to lose count of how many days, weeks, months it has been since he last saw his parents. Enough bodies rubbing against one another that it starts to get hard to tell where one ends and the next begins.
And it is in a party that Nancy Wheeler breaks his heart. She takes that pathetic trembling little thing, with so much to give but nowhere, no one to give it to. She takes this wretched beating monstrosity and smashes it in her fists. Digs her nails into it and squeezes until he can't breathe. Grabs each end and opens it, rips it apart until he can't hide or run away anymore.
The music is so loud he can pretend that he didn't understand her for a few seconds longer. She drinks enough for her eloquence to leave her, for her to see straight into the heart of the whole shit show and to summaries everything in the most concise and yet fitting way possible. The alcohol finally gives her the courage to say what has been coming for months. You are bullshit, she says. You are alone, he hears. And the bodies that have been his refuge for so many years turn into obstacles getting in the way of fresh air.
As if fresh air can magically turn him into a decent person. (into someone who deserves love)
And suddenly he realizes how futile that all was. How stupid he is. Inviting people he barely spoke three words to into his empty house. Screaming into the void in a crowd of people until he can't differentiate his voice from the others anymore. He invited everyone so they could admire this character he wore like an ill-fitting mask - and then what? Did he want to be applauded for it? Congratulations, you force yourself to be what everyone around you wants, and YOU'RE STILL FUCKING ALONE.
He finally manages to go outside and he doesn't know what the fuck he is supposed to do now. There are still people everywhere. The air is still heavy with weed and smoke and vomit. His head aches to the beat of the music, although it might also be because of the tears he is trying not to let fall.
So there he is. In a party full of people and yet alone in a way he has never allowed himself to be before.
He wants to leave, but the thought of being in that empty house just makes his anxiety grow. He wants to go back inside, but the thought of the whole school being witness to Steve "The King" Harrington's Fall from Grace part 2: electric Boogaloo makes his skin crawl. He needs to be gone. He can't be alone. He needs to think. He can't bear the thoughts tormenting him in his head.
He sees a relatively empty patch of grass and runs. The fence digs against his back but he can barely feel it. He has never been so fascinated by good old boring grass as he is now.
"Oh wow, someone kick your puppy or something? You look so pathetic, I might even give you a discount, your highne- fuck are you crying?!"
Steve looks up and can't hold in the sigh that escapes him (he pretends to himself that it doesn't sound as tremulous as it does, thinks he can allow himself this one concession in this already disastrous night).
"No", he lies.
Now it makes sense, why this patch is so empty. Nobody wants to be seen spending time with Eddie "The Freak" Munson. The only reason he is even here is the metal lunchbox he always carries around. Steve always had a sort of admiration for him - not that he could ever let anyone know that. Because Steve was - as Nancy so kindly put it - bullshit. He laughed as Tommy shoved kids against the lockers because that was what was expected of the popular jock. He threw parties because that was what teenagers are supposed to do when it is the weekend and your parents aren't home. Girls he didn't even know the name of asked him out and he accepted because he could feel the entire school staring at the back of his neck. And as soon as he stopped doing that - when Nancy finally gave him the courage to say no when he didn't want to - everyone left him. Including Nancy.
But Eddie? Eddie didn't care. Eddie didn't give a fuck that people called him a girl because of his long hair, he just let it grow and it looked fucking good. Eddie didn't give a fuck that Tommy called him a fairy because of his painted nails and jewelry, he just put up his middle finger, showing off the biggest fucking ring Steve has ever seen. Munson is unashamedly himself and every year a new group of freshmen nerds join his table of weirdos. They only leave when they graduate.
Now, with alcohol buzzing in his veins and his heart shattered into a thousand pieces, he can admit that he is kind of...jealous. Munson is brave in a way Steve has never managed. He jumps on tables and screams about conformity or shit and he doesn't give a fuck. Hell, he brings his lunchbox full of drugs to school like it's the most normal thing in the world. (Sometimes he wonders whether some teachers know and that is the reason he can't get through his senior year.)
"Would be more convincing if you weren't currently sobbing, pretty boy." Eddie's arm is extended towards him, almost as if he is going to touch him. But when Steve looks up he quickly brings it back to his side.
He feels his cheeks heat up. "...pretty boy?"
He looks fascinated as Eddie takes a lock of his hair and twirls it around his finger. The ring finger in his left hand, to be more precise, ironically the only one not adorned with a ring. He vaguely wonders if that is intentional. Eddie's fingers are long and slim. Piano fingers, his father would say. Didn't he play in a band or something? He continues watching entranced as Eddie lifts his finger and starts chewing on his hair. His lips are chapped. Paired with his big brown doe eyes, the effect is weirdly.... adorable.
"-heart?". It is only when those ridiculously red chapped lips move that Steve realized that Eddie is talking to him. His gaze seems to betray his confusion because the older boy sighs and presumably repeats himself. "I asked, are you doing okay?! Jesus H. Christ I'd think I was dreaming except that you aren't on your knees"
Steve doesn't think he was supposed to hear this second part and he frankly does not have energy to unpack that, so he makes the executive decision to ignore it. He has also already failed in his quest to not cry, and the only person he wants to talk to is the current reason for his distress, so he thinks, fuck it. (It's not like Munson really counts as a person anyway, a voice whispers in his head, but he ignores it. He does not want to be that person anymore)
"I think my girlfriend just broke up with me"
"You think?!"
"I am pretty sure my girlfriend just broke up with me"
"What?!"
"I said-"
"No, I understand. I just find it hard to believe. A lowly peasant captures the heart of the king- nay, the emperor- nay, the god of this hellish kingdom we call Hawkins High. And she, without mercy or remorse-"
"Don't call me that." Eddie freezes, his hands still raised from wildly gesticulating before. Steve absentmindedly notes that his rings glimmer orange from the bonfire.
"Don't call me king or, or emperor or whatever-"
"God."
"whatever, because that's not me. I- I don't want to be that person anymore. I know I was an asshole and- and I want to do better. So...yeah."
"Stevie, Stevie, Stevie" He tries to ignore the goosebumps, tries not to stare too hard at the mouth lovingly forming this single word. When was the last time someone called him a nickname? Even Nancy just called him by his name. Maybe that was one of the signs he overlooked. Maybe- (stop thinking about it stop thinking about it stop thinking about it) (lonely lonely lonely lonely)
He looks back at Eddie and sees that he isn't looking at him anymore (big doe eyes just like hers) He follows the older boy's gaze hoping something will distract him from spiralling. He doesn't know why he feels disappointed when the goal turns out to be Billy Hargrove: cigarette in his cherry red lips, some girl he isn't even looking at under his arm, icy eyes so intense they seem otherworldly.
"Oh yeah, I forgot that you were dethroned. Really not your year, is it?"
And Steve isn't sure what it is. Maybe Nancy's words are only now really sinking in. The fact that now he has neither girlfriend nor friends. Maybe it is the shame of realizing that Eddie actually isn't a bad guy, that he used to make his life hell for no fucking reason. And maybe a petty part of him is angry at how easily Billy filled the whole he left, how years of friendship apparently mean nothing to Tommy and Carol. Maybe he hates himself for missing them sometimes, even though he knows that they aren't the kind of people he wants to associate himself with. Or maybe it's just fucking infuriating how fucking big and warm Eddie Munson's fucking eyes look in the orange light. All he knows is that one second he is talking to Eddie "The Freak" Munson with blood roaring in his ears and the next he is sitting in his car. He grips the steering wheel so tightly his fingers turn white. One blink and he is parking on his driveway, another and the door is slamming shut behind him. (Dad will be mad, the ten year old in him cries, but he tells him to shut up, too)
And here he is now, sitting on his ridiculous white leather sofa staring at his grey concrete walls. (alone alone alone alone alone alone alone alone alone alone alone alone alone)
When his father is home, he almost exclusively spends time in his study. The one Steve isn't supposed to go into. And yet he is also the one who meticulously planned the living room. The whole house, really. He saw pictures in a business magazine and ordered someone beneath him to get it done. Everything is color coordinated: grey and white and the occasional pop of brown. It doesn't look like people are supposed to live in it. It is lifeless and clinical and Steve feels like an intruder in his own home. But he doesn't dare change anything. Once his mom tried to place a red vase with purple flowers on the coffee table. The fight ended with her sleeping in a hotel for a month.
Steve can handle sleeping in a hotel. It isn't like it would be all too different from his current situation. If he had to finance it on his own it would be a different story, but his parents would never allow him to sleep in the streets. He can already hear his mother's shrill voice "what would that look like, Stephen?!"
What Steve can not handle is being the only living being inside these trist walls.
(alone alone alone alone)
The thought is so overwhelming that he breaks into his father's liquor cabinet. When he finally falls asleep, bottle still in hand, he dreams of flowers and trees and waterfalls and life.
--
The next day he takes an aspirin against the pounding in his brain and drives to the hardware store. (He will probably be too scared to actually go through with it if he has the ability to think clearly). He parks his Beemer (please don't get dirty with soil please don't get dirty with soil shit maybe he should've brought plastic plane or something to cover the leather seats) and waves hello to the poor guy manning the register (he thinks he remembers him laughing around Billy yesterday night. He slams the door extra hard behind him and can't help the schadenfreude when he sees him flinch. It hurts like a bitch but it's completely worth it) and goes straight to the plant section.
For a moment he just stands there. It feels kind of insane. Here he is, standing in front of a shelf filled to the brim with living beings. Beings that need oxygen and sun and nutrients and water just like him. And he can just buy them for like five dollars. What the heck. (Is he just going to be trafficking a bunch of little guys into his house?!?! he feels a weird mix of fear and excitement when he realizes that he will actually have to take care of everyone he decides to take home with him. He will be needed.)
He sees a plant with leaves so large that it is almost pushing it's neighbours out of the shelf and into the deadly hard floor below. It kind of reminds him of Mike, the way that little asshole is always trying to get him to leave Na- to leave his sister alone. (Do not think of Nancy do not think of Nancy) (Bullshit bullshit bullshit bullshit) (alone alone alone alone)
The thought is so amusing he immediately adds the newly dubbed Mike Jr. into his cart. (For a moment he feels incredibly idiotic. What would the others think if they saw him?! Naming a plant he is only buying because he has no friends. But then he remembers that the entire reason for this little trip is that there isn't anyone to stop him, so he proudly glares at Mike Jr. in his cart like a disgruntled mother and continues on in his journey.) The next few minutes (hours? days? time is a social construct anyway) are spent trying to find the leafy reincarnation of the rest of the little party. Max gets a cactus with a beautiful pink flower blooming at the top. Dustin gets a succulent that falls on his foot like the fucking menace it is and is still somehow in one peace. Hard-headed just like it's namesake, Steve thinks and adds it to the cart. Picking the one hanging from the ceiling with the leaves majestically growing towards the ground because it reminds him of El's nosebleeds may be kind of morbid, but as long as Hopper never finds out it should be fine. Lucas gets the tall ones that almost look like a miniature palm tree. (He finds it kind of genius. Steve isn't sure what exactly it is about miniature trees that tickles his fancy, but Tall Lucas may be his favorite. Don't tell the others.) Human Lucas is the tallest of the bunch and is starting to show interest in basketball, which gets Steve weirdly emotional when he can't sleep at night. Will is the hardest. He is the quietest of the bunch and he doesn't drive him around as often as the others because his mother doesn't want to let him out of her sight. He settles for a bamboo in the end. It fascinates him to see it thriving even though it is so far away from home.
When he is preparing himself to leave, his eyes catch a bright yellow flower. (Rings glimmering in the orange light). He doesn't think too hard about it when Eddie Senior finds it's way into his cart.
On the way home he stops by the library. He doesn't think he has ever been here unless Nancy forced him. He's surprised at the amount of people that are actually here. He picks out as many books about botanics as he can take home at once (he may not be a fan of reading, but he will bear it for the sake of his new roommates). Back in the house he places all his kids on the coffee table (ha, suck it dad!), makes himself the biggest cup of coffee with a frankly concerning amount of espresso shots, and sleeps for the rest of the day.
When he wakes up the sun has already set. (nobody noticed he had been gone all day). He looks at the books, looks at the plants, and makes the executive decision not to go to school on Monday. Only to be able to take better care of his new charges, of course, no other reason. (He can already hear the whispers. "Oh how the mighty have fallen" "did you see that his girlfriend dumped him?" "look how pathetic, all alone" "dethroned")
He expects to need to force himself through each page. He expects to return the books without opening even half of them. He expects to just give up and abandon his babies in a park or something, it's not like they can be home when his father returns anyway.
What he does not expect is to be wakened out of his trance-like state by his own growling stomach. The first thing he is aware of is that the sun is already high up in the sky. The second is that he really really needs to pee. And eat. And drink. And find the exact right spot with the perfect amount of sunlight for each plant. And make a plan of when he has to water each one. And make sure that the vases are all big enough for the plants to properly thrive. And go buy the correct soil.
Maybe he would feel a bit bad if Nancy was still up his ass about school and attendance and punctuality and all this shit (don't think about her don't think about her don't think about her) but as things are he runs to the bathroom, whips up a quick Spaghetti al Sugo and runs back to the hardware store.
He tries to remember everything he learned. Apparently Will The Strong is actually a bamboo-type that is native to North America (the so-called arundinaria appalachiana) but that is fine, too. He should probably get bigger vases for all the plants now that he is thinking about it, even if they don't necessarily need it they deserve to have a bit more space. Would it be overkill to get a sun lamp?? Steve makes to horrifying realization that the store in Hawkins does not have Cactus or Succulent soil on sale (seriously, this is so ridiculous. How can you sell cacti with a straight face and not have any soil for it in the shop?!) He goes back to his car and goes to the next town over. (He goes a bit over the speed limit but nobody catches him so it is fine. The thought of leaving his beloved plants alone for too long make him feel kind of bad for some reason.)
It is there that the shopkeeper shows him the marvelous world of Bonsai. They are like Tall Lucas, but better. Because they are real trees, like the big ones, but in small. They can even grow real fruit. And the fruit keeps it's original size, even if the tree is tiny. Steve sees a mini apple tree and it is fucking love at first sight. He leaves the store with five new roommates (he has to find them a name on the drive home), more vases than he actually needs (they just looked so pretty, it would be cruel to make him choose), a watering can he doesn't actually need (he will have to look this object in the eyes every fucking day he deserves to actually choose it okay), more types of soil than he thought existed and two books about Bonsai.
(he finds it fascinating for some reason. Taking something as tall and strong and imposing as a tree and taking it into your home. Having something so fragile be dependent on your own two hands. Bonsais are not easy, the clerk had said. You need to be careful, gentle, loving. Cut their leaves every day. It shows when you don't take proper care of them, even if it is just a single day.)
--
He knows this is a fight he cannot win, but as soon as Hargrove dares to put his hands on Lucas any rational thought leaves him. The last thing he sees is a fist coming towards his face. The last thing he hears is a plate breaking somewhere above. Then everything is dark.
When he comes to he is in a car. He needs a second to recognize the car as his own. He needs another to realize that nobody else in the car should actually be driving. He wishes he didn't have that second realization, he has enough of a headache as it is. The only thing worse than finding out that a twelve year old is driving his beloved BMW is knowing where exactly she is driving them to.
When he sees the monster coming, he knows he can't let it get to the kids. He is the oldest. (He is alone). He will make sure that those fucking dipshits make it back home if it is the last thing he does.
When he knows that he is not going to make it out of this one alive, when he feels it in the depth of his bones that it is either him or the kids and truly, is that even choice to begin with?, he thinks of his plants. He feels bad for Rose Nylund and Dorothy Zbornak. His miniature trees were coming along so well....
--
Apparently it is not abnormal to lose ones brain-mouth filter for a bit when one has a concussion. Or ones ability to think clearly.
After everything is done for the second (and hopefully last) time. Hopper says they should have another Congratulations We Survived This Shit Again-dinner, and Joyce looks so devastated Steve doesn't have the heart to say no even though his head still isn't 100% back to normal (the doctors said that maybe it never will, but he tries not to think about that.)
This one is somehow worse than the first. The first thing Hopper does is loudly complain about the lack of Lasagna on the table. Steve sits as far away from Nancy as possible and tries not to look at her. (Tries not to look at her and Jonathan's intertwined hands). She tries to speak with him, but he somehow manages to avoid her. Hopper tries to force the Byers into conversation, but they just stare into their plates with a faraway look.
Unsurprisingly it is Mike who starts it, the little shit could never pass up the chance to make fun of him. He screams about how Steve kept talking about leaves and trees and plants and about watering "his kids", and Steve doesn't say anything because Mike's voice sounds so tiny and desperate in the silence and it hurts him in his very soul. Dustin adds that he sometimes spoke in another language, and he thinks the looks of horror on their faces are a bit exaggerated when he reveals that he is half-italian from his mother's side.
He ends up showing them his babies, and the kids somehow manage to weasel their names out of him. Max looks appropriately smug when she sees her badass cactus, and Dustin is insulted when he sees his Succulent. He does not look happier when Steve explains the origin story. (He changes the subject when Will quietly asks why the bright yellow flower is called Eddie)
--
He starts driving Max back home from school while Billy isn't allowed to drive. Nobody knows how the drugs got into his system. (He has his suspicions but sometimes it's just easier not to ask)
One day she enters the car with dirt underneath her nails and a bouquet of Petunia in her hands. "This is Non-Concussed Steve", she proclaims proudly. "It doesn't look like it, but it is actually very resilient". Just like you, she doesn't say, but he hears it anyway. He tries not to cry and fails spectacularly.
Unexpected talent #2: gardening
-> a comprehensive list of all of Steve's babies
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longlostdiaries · 2 years
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One thing I hate about having ADHD is that you only got two times available: Now and Not Now. And when you're having a really fucking bad time Not Now may as well not exist, and Now may as well be eternal. And you can rationalize how that is not true to hell and back, but that won't stop the feeling of an eternity of pain and/or misery weighing down on you.
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kamil-a · 3 months
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sherlock-is-ace · 4 months
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#i was so happy today...#i got up so excited because it's sherlock & co day#because i get to listen to it while i work#when i finishe actual work i get to draw some cool fanart i'm planning#it was all so fucking great#and not even 3 hours later i'm sitting here with tears in my eyes and pain in my chest...#remind me to never discuss my mental health with my mother never fucking again#i forgot about her WONDERFUL take of ''everyone is a little bit autistic''#and her AMAZING ''people shouldn't give name to the way people is'' (aka sexuality and how the brain works (aka being gay or being autistic#it's insane to think i come from this woman#now her FANTASTIC take that autism and adhd are diseases or illnesses#i just want to die#how the fuck could i ever possibly talk to this woman about my feelings or thoughts when this is what i'm up against#and yeah sure you could say ''educate her'' i can't! Everything i say#based on fact or sience or research or anything gets met with ''well that's your opinion. my opinion is the opposite''#and i never get to drill it into her brain that her OPINION doesn't fucking matter when there are FACTS!#she's the embodiment of the ''that's my oPiNiOn'' vine#and i fucking hate it here!!!#and maybe its true that people who say ''we're all a little bit autistic'' is because they actually ARE autistic. maybe that's true#but i fear she'll never believe it the same way she doesn't fucking believe ME#i hate this#i want to fucking die and never have to speak to another human ever again#fuck working happily while listening to sherlock & co am i right?#angel talks#personal
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