Adhd Writer - Blog Posts
@deadghosy
Can you make with Ominis Gaunt and Sebastian Sallow? đ I would feel appreciated đâ€
Sorry for bothering you tho đ
SLYTHERIN BOYS WITH AN ADHD!GF
Requested by: @lovemelikeyoulovemusic
A/N: ima slightly write it off my experience of adhd but remember that everyoneâs adhd experience is different! đ«¶đŸ
Tom Riddle
You two are a good opposite duo đ«¶đŸ
He loves how you rant to him about anything really. Heâs listening while somehow reading the book he has
When someone tries to tell you to be quiet. Immediately the room feels a chill.
He may not be pda like you, but he shows his caring side in a different light.
Mattheo Riddle
You like shenanigans, he does shenanigans.
You two are a match made in heaven! âșïžđ honestly when you stim happily and tap your fingers around. Immediately he shows the same exact energy
He knows you canât focus well, and shit he canât either sometimes.
But he will always help you!
Theodore Nott
Is always interested in what you like
Could easily be distracted with you, as long as it doesnât happen in class
He does find it creepy when you just stand there not blinking..for a long time.
Your sudden burst of energy always gives him serotonin.
Lorenzo Berkshire
Always gives you his hand when you need something to occupy yourself.
Your âout of no where mood swingsâ either of your period or just the random switch confuse him. But he is supportive.
He understands how you space out a lot and just think about things. He finds it adorable.
He understands how you canât seem to focus. So he teaches you in a way that you are able to focus and memorize other than give up on you like idiots would.
Fix (warning: substances, abuse, enslavement, self harm, suicidal ideation)
Pile up my substances
I want control
Obey my captors
The same old, same old
Countless masters I serve
Superficial reality
Rinse and repeat
Lies I tell myself to fall asleep
Cut up my willpower
And sell it to a fallacy
I want my life back
Tell me itâs not too late
Donât want to say goodbye
Sick of paying for mistakes
Hallway (warning: horror, death, blood, gore, violence)
The PA system boomed
âTheyâve made it into the school.
Lock and barricade your current room.â
I was in the hallway.
A stampede of bodies arose,
Living turning to dead to decompose.
Frightened and running through pools,
Slipping on blood in the hallway.
Beings crammed behind doors,
Quasi train cars as hopeful shields from doom.
Fearful faces cowered from windows,
Hiding from monsters in the hallway.
The growls approached.
The claws made their presence known.
Limbs and organs covered the floor.
The monsters were hungry for more than those in the hallway.
Blood-Singed II (warning: addiction, body horror)
Burnt red wine
Slinking down to slender fingertips
As sweet blood
With bite.
Wholly tremoring
With a fragile gaze
And blurred existence.
Lovers
Velvet blood coursing through intertwining paths
Supported by ebony pillars of bone
Supporting us in dance.
Your tender flesh, your cradling warmth
Clasped around my waist
Like it was made for your hands to rest on.
My limbs hung over your shoulders, around your neck
Like a garland made to grace your collar,
Pull you closer,
Hold us together, lovers.
Night Choir
Night choir,
Songstresses of the dark,
Serenade with your warm melodies.
Soothing screech,
Piercing hum,
Smooth vibrato,
Harmonize with the lightsâ
Twinkle, fade.
Pink Kitchen Table (warning: illness)
The Advent wreath is erect but cockeyed; it wasnât lit during the recent season. The pink kitchen table is littered with masks, bottles, medical notes; doctorly linguistics beside Latin religiousness. Sundays smell like medicines instead of makko-powdered ether, rosaries in the windowsill with therapy aids. Images of Christ surround a rented bed, a vessel for healing holding a vessel, weakened.
Advent wreath lit,
Pink kitchen table littered,
Latin Sundays smell like makko.
Rosaries with images of Christ surround,
A vessel for healing.
Advent wreath lit pink
Kitchen table like Sundaysâ
Vessel for healing.
18 (warning: suicidal thoughts)
Blow out the candles, darling.
You might make it to 18.
After all the nights crying
Through gritted teeth.
After the day you thought
That if you killed yourself
Their lives would be more pleasing.
Congratulations, darling.
Youâre almost 18.
A Prayer of Joy âïž
May joy come with the same ease
As your mother tongue,
Something learned so young
Itâs almost intrinsic.
May the sun and rain both
Remind you of our true home,
Shining and pelting down from
Where some earlier folks referred to as Heaven.
May God bless you
For all of your days. Amen.