OCD Massachusetts
This headcanon is,,
Old.
But I’m sharing it anyway- happy 30- fuck, 33(!?) follower celebration to you all, I’m not dignifying any of this with a spell check/proof read
During a large part of the colonies being around, they were mostly ignored by England.
There was a solid 200 year period of salutary neglect, and I’m betting he only came around once in a while to make sure they hadn’t disappeared like the Roanoke colony did. So when he suddenly came around and starting being all strict and fucky about things I imagine that very quickly made them all jumpstart into the rebellious stage. Before that a good few of them, Mass included, just wanted to behave well enough for England to be happy so they could go along with their day.
Reasoning for Mass wanting to appease England at all in the first place established? Great, let’s move along to the headcanon:
So when the 13 were kids, FCO/“England” would emphasize on how important it is that they’re all “normal.”
Mass was commonly used as an example for this. “He’s smart, good at reading, and can sit still, Connecticut.” But no. Mass, in an outstanding display of willpower only before preformed by me when my mother is in a mood and me ‘freaking out’ would lead to even worse vibes, simply forces himself to ignore compulsions and accept that “yes, the world feels like it’s ending because I’m not doing this thing, but at least if the world ends it won’t be because of England flipping out.”
Lots of repressing compulsions and intrusive thoughts later; the only thing he actually expresses that’s noticeable within the first few glances is walking in weird patterns, pacing on blank carpet, walking in a Shape on tile and following the pattern. He just brushes it off as him pacing because he’s mad or nervous or whatever when people ask.
And then of course there’s always the occasional silent meltdown because of sensory and existence and fucking shapes being uneven that he’s managed to push aside to only have happen once every few months and at late hours of the night/early morning so no one ever caught him.
Never saw him sitting on the floor, wearing whatever he could find that agitates him the least, pulling his shirt collar side to side to try and make it perfectly even, pinching and pulling the tips of his fingers, pressing his finger nail down till it turns white before switching to the next one. Wishing he could simply exist in the vacuum of space with some nice, evenly shaped things he can color sort somehow without touching, where the only lines are even, and nothing touches him including himself.
But the second it’s finally over, he simply ignores that it ever happened and goes back to being “normal.”
When any questions are brought up about why he’s so insistent about things like color pencils being numbered according to what color they draw as but sorted and placed in the box according to how their wrapper/paint is colored his response is always “oh, I’m just a perfectionist.”
Everyone always said perfectionists are good.
(Everyone has been ingrained to hold quite a heavy importance of opinion to him.)
Well-
Except for that one time Mass got stuck in front of a door for half an hour because he opened it wrong and needed to do it again but backwards and with the other side of his hand, then his other hand had to do it twice to make it even, then he screwed up replicating the second time and was stuck turning the doorknob “weird.”He was found standing there crying by England.
He opens the door with the end of his shirt now. Says it’s a germ thing.
Mass also fucking hates touch screens, and keyboards for that matter
If his device has a case he’s stuck rubbing a finger against where the screen and case meet on the edge and if not he’s simply fidgeting with the corner or edge of it
It would look like he’s polishing it, if it weren’t for the fact he’s just smudging it up and doesn’t have a rag. It wouldn’t even be an issue if it weren’t for how when he’s doing that while trying to type it makes the touch screen register weird taps and will close him out of the app mid sentence while texting
And then if he types the wrong way on a keyboard his life is over which is Horribly inconvenient for coherent sentences
Basically mass has a vendetta with technology and always prefers to write on paper when he can because the pencil stays still and in the same part of his hand when he’s writing, even if he makes a typo.
Annoying thing is that with all the time he wastes following out compulsions and with writing manually not triggering anything he writes way to fast to make up for time and his handwriting looks like absolute shit because of it
Someone needs to get him a stylus and some gloves
But that would require someone knowing of his problems which we all know can never happen
When Mass was younger he fell off the swings and fell onto his arm, the impact was hard enough to leave a mark. Mass just remembers his arm hurting. Correction; one of his arms hurting.
Hurting on one side.
He was uneven.
The next few minutes consisted of him slamming his untouched arm against the tree the swing was attached to.
But he over did it and now that arm hurt more than the other. So he hit the other one but that accidentally drew blood so he then had to do that on the other arm too.
He looked like he’d just been attacked and when he got home England yelled at him for getting blood on his clothes, about how he would need to either fix them himself or hope he finds someone willing to get him new ones, but he was even and the bruises matched and everything was fine again.
(Story sponsored by that one time I stubbed my toe on a bad sensory day and fucking died)
I have more for this
It’s honestly a solid fic
Tell me if y’all want me to clean it up and add it to this-