#and my ADHD knows it will be a thousand little steps before I get to the dope image I know I have in mind

[miqojak]

When you really want to take pictures, but your ADHD starts listing all the tedious set-up involved for the photo-shoot you want (setting up the outfit, and the props, the lighting, the angle), and then also reminds you that you haven't made up your mind on a backdrop yet, but if you go to Yorha you'll only have your carbie to pose with, and you'll be swapping which prop it's pretending to be, and there's two kinds of poses you have in mind, which means doing all the lighting and shader stuff a couple times over - and that's the most tedious part, even when 75% of a shader is how I like it... I inevitably spend ages having to tweak it to my liking (and get my border of preference set up just right...which is annoying to do every single time, though I am getting faster at finding what I want.).

And then my ADHD is like 'that is so many steps right?'

[mrghostrat]

i was hoping to stream this afternoon but i woke with my shoulders hurting so bad that i have absolutely zero capacity for anything. to the point where i experienced my first autistic rumbles in the supermarket 🥸 but i have adhd meds now so maybe we can try tomorrow.

zita's suspected i'm on the spectrum for a little while now, but i've always been on the fence about it. there's a lot i don't relate to. but most of that is bc i have so much learned behaviour, and i mask really well. when i try to break down how i think for autism diagnostic quizzes, my gut reactions DO fit the bill, but they are so so so buried under 30 years of life experience that feels like it comes naturally.

but i am an introvert. an extreme introvert. even while living alone with my best friend, who i get on perfectly with and feel zero need to mask around, i still need to excuse myself and be left alone in my room from 10pm at LEAST.

so i only really unmask when i'm dead alone. even though i dont feel like i'm putting up any kind of front around of zita, i still do, automatically. the only time i see myself completely bare is when i'm alone and it's silent and there is absolutely nothing challenging my comfort.

sooooo hoooooo boy waking up in pain, with zero capacity to even finish a thought, still empty of ADHD medication because of the fuckin manufacturing shortage (thankfully today's trip into town was to finally pick some up! but that wasn't until noon), i got to see a side of myself i don't know if i've ever actually seen before? maybe as a kid but i can't remember specifically that far back?

i've been short tempered and overwhelmed and exposed to sensory nightmares whilst home alone before, but it's usually so quick bc i'm at HOME and i can adjust the situation and i never think much of it. i felt like a bluescreen at that supermarket today, popping in for less than 10 things across 3 aisles.

it was so busy. there were so many people. i felt dread just to walk through it, so aware of my own body and the space i had to inhabit. but par for the course so far. what was less par for the course was having to stop and look at my list every 3 steps, unable to put together a course of action in my head: chicken is on the far left, so we grab that first and get broccoli on our way to the soup aisle. but the broccoli is right there. do i grab that first, go get the chicken, but then double back from where i just came? i might get myself some bananas too, how do i fit that into my path—

i had to keep stopping and looking at my list because every item i thought of made me forget the previous one i just looked at. eventually got fed up with myself and went to the closest thing and started there, regardless of whether i'd have to double back or not. that's what trips me when i take these quizzes n shit. i can get over the hump and do the task in the end, so that must mean i'm totally allistic! no autism here.

i remember thinking "jesus christ this is bad" when i was on my way to get zita's soup (if you've read this far, thank you and kisses to you, pls send some loving vibes to zita by reading her fic i just reblogged, bc she's got a cold and is miserable today) so i was kinda aware i was having a bad sensory day. as expected: there were a lot of people there, and i was in pain. but i just short circuited looking at soup. zita gave me the brand name and soup type of 3 cans she wanted. and i went to the aisle i've been to a thousand times, found the brand, and just stared. it was all stew. all chunky brothy things with bits in. not a single creamy soup in sight, so, the soup must be somewhere else.

i came to that conclusion immediately but i couldn't. process it? or like, what to do with that information. the soup is somewhere else. OR IS IT? keep looking at this shelf to make sure, your eyes are tired, you might've missed it. there's like 20 different cans of campbells here, just keep reading them left to right until soup appears. still no soup? read them again, you might've missed it. maybe campbell's is out of soup? read every other brand here until you Don't see soup, then you can walk away and try somewhere else. but if you don't see any soup, read it again because you might've missed it.

thankfully it took all of 30 fuckin seconds for a store employee who was shelving next to me to see my glazed fuckin stare and ask if i needed a hand with anything. and i stammered through some "haha my silly eyes today!! haha thanks! sorry, thank you!" as she happily pointed like 3 metres down the aisle for me, while my internal monologue immediately raged like "wtf why would they put the soup that far away but also barely far away at all, what's the point, bad design 😡"

got soup. check list: packet of gravy. zita told me the gravy was in the same section as the soup. it was not. i walked up and down that aisle five times and there was no gravy. i just. i had completely forgotten how to problem solve. it was the strangest, most frustrating experience. like i was looking at an empty word document in my brain, with a little flashing cursor and everything, so i knew it hadn't frozen over. it was just empty.

i even had the thought "just walk up and down the aisles until you find gravy; you have to do this all the time" and even had ideas of which aisles to start with. but my brain said no. we're not going to walk around aimlessly, even if we have a neat little structure and path to follow. we were told (by myself, too) this would be a quick in out trip, pluck the known items off the shelf and beeline straight for the checkout. so meandering down aisles was for some reason non negotiable. i wasn't in a rush. i had nothing to do today. i barely even felt a rush to get out of there, as busy as it was. it just wasn't an option.

so rather than start solving that problem i just jumped to the next thing on the list. strepsils. text to ask what kind she wants, have a whine about my broken brain, ask if she knows where the gravy is. remember when i pass the hair brushes that i broke my hairbrush this morning and need a new one!! oh and i've been wanting new hairclips too. look at me picking a new hairbrush and poking through the hairclips for one that i know will feel comfortable against my scalp, i'm not autistic because i can change my plans and make decisions on the fly.

oops didn't mean for this post to be an entire play by play of my thoughts through this extremely bland grocery shop. i cannot believe how long i stood there choosing soup. the line at the self checkout was so long and i felt the dread kick up again. barely/silently whispered "oh god" to myself when i realised the line, but repeated it about 20 times to feel the tap of my tongue against the roof of my mouth before i realised i was doing it. stop that, don't mutter to yourself. but i'm standing still in a line and there's nothing left to (ineffectually) problem solve, so the second i stop i notice a weird little slice in the plastic around the trolley handle that i can't stop flicking my thumbnail against.

OK. we need to stim. heard, chef. just click your piercing ffs. your mouth might look weird when you do it but at least everyone can see you're just clicking your teeth against your piercing, rather than talking to yourself or damaging public property.

something made a noise, can't even remember if it was a child or a trolley or what, some loud sharp single high pitched screech a few metres away, and i jolted so hard i thought i felt like i was going to throw up. finally think, fucking hell i'm autistic today. my back hurts. which is making my head hurt. i want to go home and take my vyvanse.

[the1975attheirverybest]

Hi 👋🏾

I have spoken to you (everyone…?) in a minute so how are you? Just a little concept: what do you think matty would do if his partner/best friend had something like adhd or asd and became over stimulated? Maybe in like a party or out at dinner? That happens to me a lot so I was curious as to what you think :)

-🥳

Ooohhhh, I think he’s said he probably has ADHD and the only reason he hasn’t been diagnosed professionally is because “you probably couldn’t get me to stay in the chair long enough to get a diagnosis” that way years ago though. So I wonder if that’s changed?

With or without diagnosis/ treatment, I think he would be extremely understanding and sympathetic. Especially if those are things he’s felt before, and even more so, if the conversation has come up. Like if his partner or friend has told him that this is something that happens to them/ how they feel about it. He’d make a mental note to be extra cautious in highly stimulating environments and stuff. So, like, if you were at some dinner somewhere new and different, with a lot of people. Maybe the guys, their partners, but also friends of friends and folks from the label, etc. and everyone’s kinda talking so there are several conversations going at once, and waiters going back and forth and maybe some people are trying to make polite chitchat with her or get to know her, and it’s just a lot.

At first, Matty is pulled into some conversation between George and the equipment dude. Which makes him momentarily forget that these kinds of situations can be stressful for her. Then he glances over to ask if she wants her wine refilled or if needs anything, and sees from the look on her face, that everything’s overwhelming.

He gently touches her back. “Hey, you alright?”

He’s whispering, but she feels a bit weird that anyone/ everyone can see them and she doesn’t want her facial expression or anything to indicate that she doesn’t like being here. So, she’s annoyed that they’re even having this conversation. She tries to shut it down really quickly. Brushing him off. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”

He tries to ask her again, but she’s not having it. She feels silly that she can’t self-regulate and get her mind and body to calm down. And, on top of that, she feels guilty for concerning Matty in front of everyone he knows and cares about. She doesn’t want him to have to constantly think about her on a night like this.

“Excuse me, Darling. Come with me?” He takes her hand in his firmly, not giving her a chance to squirm away.

She sees him whisper something to George about needing to step away for a bit.

Once they’re alone in a secluded corner of the restaurant, he asks her again. “Listen, if this is all too much, we can just leave.”

“No, no! Please! I don’t wanna have to go around and explain to everyone-“

“Explain? You don’t need to explain. Say the word and we’ll leave, right now!”

“Matty, don’t be ridiculous.”

“Look into my eyes right now. I’m dead serious. Do I not look serious?”

She watches him, and he does, in fact, look serious.

“But that’s rude. I don’t wanna just disappear. Don’t want to hurt peoples feelings.”

“Literally who would care? What, George? George loves you. You love him. You’re always going on about how he’s like your brother. What? Adam and Carly? The parents who have a million things to worry about and will probably call their sitter a thousand times in the next half hour because they can’t chill? Or Jamie? Ross? Literally who would be mad at you?”

“Won’t they be mad at YOU?”

“The people whose opinion matters to me will understand. A friend of a friend who tagged along for a free dinner? Fuck no. I don’t care. Let’s get you home. You can relax. Unwind. Get a break from all this stuff. Yeah? Let’s go. George will hold onto our coats and stuff.”

[marthespot]

Mar the Spot

I haven't done this in a while, so bear with me; the brain doesn't work like it used to, and some of the ways that it does work are not in ways that I want it to be working. A long time ago, I wrote by the Bradbury Prescription, but it's been fifteen years since I felt the need to set down my day with structure and to explore what I thought and felt about it. It's eminently and inarguably more proper to do so in an untargeted - though technically public - form than it is to make someone's eyes glaze over in texts or DMs, and since the need appears to exist, here I am. The name I used for hundreds of thousands of words isn't present in Google results anymore, because it's a series of locked pages on a low-traffic blogging site that was only the second or third most popular blogging site available, even fifteen years ago. Looking at the other people currently using it, I'm glad it's not mine anymore; they don't look like good literary neighbors. I've been drinking heavily for eight years, now, ever since she showed me three positive pregnancy tests. I wouldn't give back the time I've spent parenting, and I can't imagine life without my child, but it was very much a thing that I assumed there would be some discussion about before a pregnancy occurred. Instead, ADHD appears to have caused some skips in birth control pill dosing. Since then, it was pregnancy, partial miscarriage (it may have been twins, originally?), marriage, home ownership on short notice with all of the attendant and still-parading maintenance issues that you could expect from a home built in 1912 and being sold as part of an acrimonious divorce by the landlord-owners, and so, so much. Parenting has been better the longer it goes on. It was both incredibly difficult and incredibly unfulfilling when the child was an infant, because they were functionally a very loud plant that rapidly excreted waste substances. The most helpful thing that anyone told me when we had a newborn was a person helping on a meal train, who walked in with the food, looked and the baby, and said "Aw, it's been so long since I've had one that they're almost cute again!" I have no idea how single parents survive at any phase, but particularly with a newborn.

For several years after infancy, it seems like every time your child Levels Up in terms of ability, all they've really done is unlocked a new way for them to cause severe damage to their own skull or internal organs. Everything dangerous looks delicious, every hard corner is right at head level, and with any luck, YOUR child will also have the gleeful obsession with pulling safety covers off of things that want very much to go Bonk on little heads.

And then, at long last, words start to come. and you start getting to talk to an extremely low-resolution edition of the human that you hope you'll get to continue getting to know and helping out for the rest of your life. It's not that you couldn't get to know them prior, but that it was more difficult to know exactly what they thought of things; you'd know they didn't like a food or an experience, but not the specifics of what it was like on their end of things.

They spend the pandemic isolated from other people, as is not unusual for children their age, and it didn't seem to bother them much, presumably because they weren't old enough to remember things being particularly different. Mom and Dad were always around, thanks to dad's switch to telework, and we were always glued to screens because that's what there was to do in pandemic isolation, so it didn't seem like much of a hardship until it started getting to be time to start school.

They sobbed on the way to their first day, but bucked up and bravely stepped out of the car at drop off, still crying. They forced a smile and gave a tiny-thumbed Thumbs Up gesture before trudging away with that huge-looking backpack. All the frustrating of coping with what I see as an over-response to the simple process of going somewhere that Mom and Dad aren't bled away, and I cried a bit, myself, because .. well, they were temporarily not there, and that'd never been the case in their entire life.

The first year of school was a constant, sleep-deprived nightmare. Our child had never been substantially sick, and none of us had so much as a cold for the two years we spent almost completely isolated and N95'd on the occasion that we actually had to go somewhere; drop that immune system into kindergarten and you have the recipe for some respiratory wildness. They woke up coughing at least once or twice, almost every night; woke up coughing and crying hard enough to throw up maybe once or twice a week, all school year.

Funny story, looking back at the nightmare, is that they were finally diagnosed with asthma at the tail end of kindergarten and given an albuterol inhaler, which shut down the worst of the coughing. Corticosteroids, prescribed later, eventually made for a dramatic improvement in lung function and an equally dramatic reduction in coughing. Even while sleeping! Even while sick!

I recently went sober after those years of drinking because the cumulative unhappiness with the states of my body and my mind, along with the presumed impact on my life expectancy, finally coupled with a conversation that I couldn't keep up with while hung over to push me over the edge and just quit. And that conversational buddy has continued - as good ones do - to make me think, whether deliberately or inadvertently; since I don't think they should be punished for that with the unexpected unleashing of literary floodgates, again .. here I am.

[skruffie]

my 2023 recap cannot be done without 2019-2022

under the cut because it's long

I had a briefer and more closed off summary about this on FB because I didn't want to raise alarm over things that I don't experience any more, but truly by the end of 2021 when I say my confidence was shattered I mean it. I didn't describe how when I started at the grocery store I was not just hypervigilant but absolutely paranoid about any hint of worker and labor violations. I went through the boilerplate agreement with a fine-toothed comb and spent 11 months doing the most physically taxing job I've had just to bring in some sort of income. I left that job at $15.75/hr.

The grocery store was where I had to rehabilitate my ability to say no, to call out of work when I felt sick, and just have some sort of money flow so we could still eat. Everyone always raved about how because it was employee-owned they'd be able to cash in their stocks after 6 years or after retirement and be set for life, and then those same coworkers would come though my line to pay for their groceries using EBT because none of us were paid enough.

I am still never going to forget my first month in optical, almost to the date when I was hired, when we were all at one of the new stores working at the soft-opening (called the family and friends event). Essentially before the grand opening they will invite employees to bring in their friends and family for free eye exams and then they'd get a 75% coupon for eyeglasses that was valid for that event only. It was a little chaotic, kind of corny at times with the typical corporate "team building" icebreakers, but then at the end of the day the manager for that store called me out specifically for the job well done. He said that I was a natural at running the floor and I even looked up at him and everyone and went "Me?" because I was in disbelief. I tried to give him a thank you and express my gratitude but the moment I said that I came into this industry with my self confidence at it's lowest I burst into tears. Oops.

At the state government, I was always craving more one on one interaction. I wanted my work to feel like it actually meant something instead of just typing numbers into an archaic case management system that was never designed to accommodate our payments. I think it's natural for people to want to help others but that job was such an extreme mismatch of my personality and personal values that I felt like a ghost. The grocery store experience doesn't mean anything to me, good or bad, because it was merely the rehab. The company I'm with right now is retail optical and I know that as I continue to grow I am going to move on from this place, but I'm trying to stretch my legs and breathe. I'm devouring information and trying to learn as much as I can, and I have an account set up with the Department of Health when I finally start my apprenticeship.

2019-2021 broke me into a thousand pieces. 2022 was the beginning of my recovery, and 2023 was the year where I began to finally match my old pace. I feel intense sorrow thinking about the countless panic attacks and crying breakdowns I had alone at my desk. On FB I didn't tell everyone how at one point it got so bad that I called a crisis line--not because I was suicidal but because I couldn't calm down--and then I accidentally HUNG UP on the poor guy trying to help me. I cried harder and called back and by some miracle got matched with the same person. I didn't describe how my boss' boss had only verbally reassured me it was Just A Coincidence they extended my probation period for productivity issues after I went through the reasonable accommodation process. At my job, I don't need reasonable accommodations for my ADHD because this job is where I am able to utilize my strengths and actually thrive. My ADHD hasn't gone away, but it is instead now fuel for the work that I do rather than something I am fighting with every step of the way.

I'm going to be a little superstitious with this next thing I'm going to write because I worry that giving too much detail would then spoil what I uh... manifested? But I will say this: where I am at currently is exactly every single thing that I asked the universe for, down to my work hours and salary. There is something bittersweet knowing that my plans for 2024 will eventually lead me to move on from where I'm at, but I wouldn't have even gotten there in the first place if my boss hadn't offered me a better job than the one I applied for. I know I'm not as open about my witchiness on my main blog but I will say that I never quite grasped the point of "manifesting" because it feels like it's just a few steps away from the prosperity gospel, but like... I had the epiphany on a slow day at work after we all finished what we needed to do. Our assistant manager was reading a book and I was sitting up at the desk with my sketchbook drawing. I took a moment to look at where I was and what I was doing and realized this was everything I asked for.

I am going into 2024 full of immense gratitude and some cautious excitement for what comes next.

Back in 2008, my grandpa gave me a copy of the book The Last Lecture by Randy Pausch and Jeffrey Zaslow. If you haven't read it, it was something like a memoir of Randy's life and how he interprets the way he achieved his childhood dreams, especially as he was grappling with terminal cancer. He gave a lecture at a university, framed as his last lecture while he was alive, on the very topic of childhood dreams and revealed on the last slide that the lecture was not for those students but for his own children he was leaving behind. At 18 I didn't have the capacity to understand that sometimes childhood dreams do shift and change over time--that the images of ourselves we see as adults may not come to fruition or if they do they may not be what we expect--but here now at almost 34 years old I think I get it. A long time ago I let go of trying to turn my passion for art into a career because I was starting to see the writing on the wall. If I turned art into a career, I would lose my passion for it. I opted instead to try to find a career that would leave me feeling fulfilled and also have enough emotional capacity at the end of the day to come home to my artwork.

And here I am, bringing my sketchbook to work for slow days.

[urbandokkalfar]

Context for my last post and small lore drop

When I was in school, from seventh grade to graduation, I did odd jobs under the table. I cleaned aquariums and did yard work for neighbors, I worked in a local slaughter house, eventually got into taxidermy and processing game animals, worked with the county to pick up road kill, worked on farms, sold art work, worked at my first (now deceased) step dad's auto repair shop - stuff like that.

I made decent money, it wasn't awful and I generally made my own hours.

What w a s awful was the way my family looked at it all. It wasn't stuff i could put on job apps because it wasn't 'legit'.

Mind you I was making a couple thousand a month combined from all this, most of the time I was on six to seven jobs a month for only 3 - 5 days a week.

I'd contribute about 25% of my money to which ever household I was living in that week (mom or dad), would spend some on tools and junk for work, a little for my own whims and then save the rest.

Before my stepdad passed away and shit r e a l l y hit the fans I had a sizeable chunk of money in my account.

After he passed my mom didn't really wait long to get a new boyfriend, it was within weeks of SD's funeral she came out and said she was seeing someone.

My SD passed away from an aggressive cancer. We watched him become Skeletor over the course of two months before he died. He was one of the coolest people I know - stood up for me when people remarked on how I dressed etc, taught me auto repair, encouraged me to do my jobs, all around a kick ass dude.

The guy my mom started seeing was the polar opposite. He bullied and threatened my older sister until she left out of fear then he started in with me.

We got into a fist fight because he threw may cat across the room for sitting in the garden window (a window that protrudes from the house to put potted plants in).

When he started abusing my mom, we got into even more fist fights which often ended with him leaving and coming back. Mom was sooooo enamored with this man she drove down our street at sixty five miles an hour while I clung to the truck door and step rail.

When she stopped and let me in I admittedly slapped her.

Eventually he fucked up. They went out drinking and a girl I knew from school was staying with us because her mom kicked her out for being a 'whore'.

He started whailing on my mom, threw her down the basement steps and sarted beating her in the basement - my friend ran next door to call the cops. I went downstairs, put my hand through the glass gun cabinet door and racked an unloaded shotgun.

He shit his pants and locked himself in the bathroom upstairs.

Both of them were taken to jail for the night and my sister and I picked her ass up the next day.

Five days later my mom suffered a massive heart attack, because of her bf I'd quit my jobs because she couldn't be alone with him. If I'd had been working she would have died. She had a month long hospital stay, my savings went to pay household bills and get her medication.

I spent three years of my life protecting her then caring for her for her to tell me she never wanted me when i was born and admitted to doing things when pregnant to try and home abort me - she didn't have Pre-eclampsia, I was c-sectioned otta her two months early because she didn't want me to turn out like my sister.

My sister has ADHD and a touch of the 'tisim - which same tbh.

For bonus context: In school my sister was so awful and unruly that if I had her teachers they treated me the same they did her. Like shit.

I was the proverbial black sheep for being Goth and holding odd jobs etc.

Now my sister's got two kids and is horrifically abusive to her husband - I hang out with her at times to get her out of the house so he can have peace.

Maybe, someday, I'll elaborate on my sister but, this is what you get for now.

Oh yeah, TLDR I worked under the table for cash for YEARS and my family dunked on me for not having a 'real' job, continued to be shit ass over it even while supporting one of them and now I have a 'real' job they're pissed I don't spend any real time with them 🙃

[jayankles]

It Started with a Missing Thor.

Pairing: Benny Miller x Reader

Word Count: 1152

Request: Quick question, so would you do a request for Benny and a short, shy reader with adhd and a dog? I’ve been obsessed with him and dogs, and I have ADHD and can be super shy and insecure.

Summary: Short attention span is never fun. Overthinking is never fun. Falling flat on your ass is never fun. But the blonde man in the soft sweater and the backwards cap is someone who helps you look for your lost dog and so much more. 

‘I don’t give you attention for two seconds and you’re already running off?’ You think to yourself as you run after your dog calling out for him.

“Thor! Come back!” 

Noticing your surroundings, you sink back into yourself, feeling the other people in the park staring at you and judging you for your lack of control over your dog. The aptly named golden retriever decided that he didn’t want to listen to your cries of his name over and over. 

Jogging after him, you forget about the wet mud beneath your boots, that is until you are slipping and sliding chasing after him. Oh god, if you weren’t careful you were going to fall on your butt or your face; neither one was good in front of all these other people in the park. You would have fallen over too, if it wasn’t for the man that moved quickly in front of you and wrapped his arm around your waist to pull you back on the concrete pathway.

“You need help, little one?” You were too busy looking up into his blue eyes to notice anything else. Even the next words to come out of his mouth. Fuck. 

“I’m- I’m sorry, what?” You blinked up at him, fingers subconsciously splaying over his arms to balance yourself.

“You were chasing someone, something. Saw you starting to fall, figured you could use some help from an experienced searcher.”

“You mean you lose your dog all the time, too?” You say, clearing your throat and taking a step back, out of his grip but not before your hand slid over the comfortable material of his sweatshirt. “I like your hoodie, by the way, it’s very soft.” You really wanted to ask where he got it from.

“No, my brother purposefully ditched me in the store to make out with one of his many female companions. I always ended up finding him pretty quick. You know, after the first six times you get used to it and discover all the hiding places. And thank you for noticing, I had to search a lot of stores for the right fabric, this one isn’t itchy at all.”

“Shit, my dog. Thanks for saving me the humiliation of falling on my butt.”

“I promise it’s no problem. Let’s go get your dog back.”

“You wanna help me still?”

“I said I would, didn’t I?”

The truth was you couldn’t remember, your mind was racing a thousand miles a minute, all you could think about was his eyes, and his hoodie but then when you looked up again you saw the backwards cap that he had on and that was pretty much it. The man in front of you was a huge turn on and you couldn’t stop thinking about kissing him. Nope. That was wrong. He was a stranger. But a nice stranger who just wanted to help.

“What’s your dog’s name?”

“Oh, yes, right. Thor, his name is Thor.” You click your fingers together and waggle your pointer finger at him, grateful for the reminder of your troublesome runaway dog. “Speaking of names, could I know yours? I mean, get yours? If that’s okay, but if I’m being honest I’m not very good at remembering names so you may have to remind me a couple of times to keep it fresh in my mind. It’s just to thank you, nothing else.” What are you going on about? Why can’t you stop talking to this stranger, prattling on about whatever had popped in your mind, you hated when you couldn’t control yourself. “Sorry. This is about my dog, you don’t need to give me your name, that's obviously up to you if you want to tell me or not.”

His tongue flicked over his teeth between his top lip, before he pressed his teeth into his lower lip to stifle a smile. It wasn’t working. He couldn’t contain the happy gesture. Not that you had noticed, you had distracted yourself from the man that you had just made a fool of yourself in front of. 

“Benny.” He called just loud enough for you to hear over your calls for your dog’s name.

“Y/N. It’s nice to meet you, Benny. And thank you for helping me. I appreciate it.”

*

“Hey, Buddy.” Benny enters the house, immediately dropping to his knees to greet the golden retriever with hard pats to his rump and rough, playful strokes to the side of his neck.

“Always the dog first.” You whisper to yourself, leaning over the island as Benny closes the door behind him.

“That would be incorrect, my sweet girl. Dog first, fiancé from then on out, always. Unless, you know, you got a little fighter in there? Because if one day that happens, I’m gonna use your body as a shield to protect us.” Benny smirks at you as he skates across the island to get to you. “You know, I’m kidding, right? It’ll be my brother.” 

You mirror his smirk, turning it into a toothy grin as you rise from your slumped place and turn. Benny in front of you in no time. “I highly doubt that but thank you for adding me to the list. Even if it’s taking bullets for you. Not sure that I would enjoy that experience but yeah.” 

He helps you jump onto the counter, legs subconsciously spreading to allow him to step in between them. Benny does so. Eagerly. 

He presses his lips to the crown of your head, lovingly touching his forehead against you. There would have been a time where you would have worried about whether your forehead was a little too sweaty, or if there was a reason that Benny hadn’t automatically kissed your lips when he came home and found you. But you had come to realise that when he laid his forehead upon his it was him winding down from a difficult or exhausting day that he had. Most of those days included a pummelling to the head and various other places of his body.

“Thanks for coming back in one piece. I definitely prefer you that way.” You said, words barely above a whisper to not try and ruin the moment. In no rush, you reach out to hold onto Benny’s bandaged hand. “Hope the other guy looks worse.”

“Nah, the other girl kicked my ass.” 

“Well then, I bet you deserved it.” You close your eyes, taking in the moment. You wished you could stay like this with him forever but the counter wasn’t all that comfortable and you would much prefer the comfort of Benny’s arm. “Wanna curl up on the couch and watch classic Disney movies?”

“As long as it includes Jungle Book, Peter Pan and Robin Hood, I’m in.”

“I restocked the snack cabinet, too. So we’re good to go.”

“My god, I love you.”

“I should hope so. Because I love you, too.”

Feedback is gold and appreciated

[jaskierswolf]

Weight on My Shoulders

A very self-indulgent prequel to my not so kinky soulmate AU (Tumblr/AO3).

Any references to events or messages involving my own darling soulmate @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde is purely coincidental. I promise we are much more needy than this.

Ship: Geraskier (pre-romantic)

CW: Far too much pining, mentions of anxiety, long distance friendships

_____

Jaskier pouted as he wrapped himself up in his weighted blanket and duvet. Even with the additional weight he was struggling to sleep properly, but it did help. What would really help was a hug from his soulmate, but that was off the table. Geralt was a bazillion lightyears away, all the way in America, and Jaskier was stuck in miserable, grey England. They’d been talking online for two years, and the distance wasn’t getting any easier. If anything it was getting worse, and Jaskier wasn’t sure how much more he could take of it.

“Jask, you’re falling asleep, love,” Geralt hummed from the too bright screen that was lighting up his room. “Go to bed.”

“I’m in bed,” Jaskier huffed.

“Go to sleep, we can talk more in the morning.”

Jaskier whined, sinking further into his blanket burrito. “But I have work again tomorrow, I don’t want to sleep. I want to talk to you. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Geralt sighed, smiling warmly at him through the screen, “But I will be here when you wake, I promise.”

“I’d rather you be here with me.”

It was pathetic. Jaskier knew it was pathetic, but he just felt a warmth in his chest, a ghost of Geralt’s arms around him.

“I’m always here” Geralt hummed in his mind.

Jaskier leaned into Geralt’s mental embrace, letting himself soak in the glow of his soulmate’s warmth. He was struggling to keep his eyes open which didn’t really matter but he only had a few hours each day to video call his soulmate and he hated wasting any of them. It had been worse the last few days. Essi and Pris had announced they were going to honeymoon in New York, and whilst they wouldn’t see Geralt, they would be a whole lot closer than Jaskier had ever been. He’d even considered asking to tag along in their suitcases so he could afford the trip to the States.

He just missed Geralt so fucking much.

“I love you,” he mumbled again, wiping the tears from his eyes that he hadn’t even realised had formed. “I love you more than Dandelion.”

He tried to laugh but it sounded weak to his own ears. Dandelion was a musician, just like he was hoping to be, a beautiful tall elegant man with gorgeous long blond curls, and a laugh that could outshine a thousand suns. He was also Jaskier’s celebrity crush and inspiration. Jaskier had been obsessed since he was sixteen, secretly hoping that Dandelion was his soulmate. Not much had changed since meeting Geralt in his dreams. He was still completely obsessed with the musician, only his daydreams tended to include Geralt as well, a fact that his soulmate thankfully found endearing.

“Wow,” Geralt chuckled, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “That’s high praise.”

“It’s true! I would renounce my love of Dandelion for mere seconds in your arms,” Jaskier insisted, “and then I would never let you go and you’d be stuck with me.”

“It would be hard to work with a Jaskier in my arms.”

Jaskier scoffed, rubbing his eyes. “You’ll manage.”

“Sleep, Jask,” Geralt’s words were a low hum, added weight to his blanket and Jaskier could feel himself slipping. He supposed it was only a matter of time really, it was nearly midnight and Jaskier had to get up at an ungodly hour for work. “For me.”

And really that was just unfair. Geralt knew that Jaskier would do anything for him. He was just that desperate for attention, although despite his slightly less dramatic personality, Geralt could be equally needy, if you knew how to read him.

“That’s cheating,” Jaskier whined.

“I never said I play fair.”

“Betrayed by my own soulmate,” Jaskier pouted as Geralt hung up the call and his tiny little bedroom fell into darkness. Without the light of his phone, Jaskier was fighting a losing battle. “I love you, dear heart.”

“I love you too, a lot. Too much.”

Jaskier scoffed, turning to hug his pillow. “Never too much, never enough. Goodnight, my love”

“Night, Jask.”

_______

When he awoke the next morning, Jaskier had a notification on his phone. It wasn’t unusual. Geralt often left him little messages, pictures of Roach, or things that had reminded him of Jaskier throughout the day. Sometimes, if Jaskier was lucky, Geralt would leave him gifs of Dandelion, and on even rarer occasions, awkward selfies that were never flattering despite Geralt’s godlike appearance. Jaskier treasured every single one. But no, that morning he had a more unusual notification.

It was from Lambert.

They’d talked a couple of times, mostly in a group chat whenever Geralt wanted to include Jaskier on family film night or playing games online, which Jaskier was shockingly terrible at, especially the shooting games the boys preferred. Lambert had never DM’d Jaskier before though. There had never been an occasion to, so why bother?

So Jaskier was feeling more than a little anxious about clicking on the message.

“Geralt?” he tested, although he was pretty positive that his soulmate was asleep. Geralt would usually at least say good morning when he was awake, but there had been nothing but silence through their soulbond.

It came as no surprise when Geralt didn’t answer.

His phone buzzed again in his hand, another message from Lambert.

“Bollocks,” Jaskier groaned, sitting up in bed so he could find his glasses. They were buried under his blanket and looking a little bent out of shape but that was nothing new.

L - Guess who’s coming to England on a business trip!

Jaskier’s heart jumped and hope soared through his body, a flutter of wings in his chest as his pulse raced, only to be destroyed in the next second.

L - It’s not Geralt, shit. I should have started with that.

- It’s me.

- I’m coming to England. Found out this morning. All expenses paid. - I’ll be in London for a week, if you want to meet up?

Jaskier stared at his phone. He was excited, of course he was but he couldn’t help the ache in his heart. His friend was coming to England. Geralt’s family was coming to England. That was one step closer to meeting his soulmate in person, but it wasn’t far enough. He felt like shit. Guilt tore through him. Lambert was clearly excited about his news and yet all Jaskier could think of was how he wasn’t Geralt.

Maybe he could give Lambert something to take back to Geralt. They’d sent letters and parcels back and forth but it would be different like this, and he should be excited. He should be over the fucking moon.

And truth be told, if he hadn’t felt so incredibly needy already he probably would have been more excited, but his heart was feeling fragile. Jaskier had spent the last week or so wondering if Geralt loved him back in a romantic way, or whether they would just be the dearest of friends. Whatever it was, Jaskier would be fine. That’s how soulbonds worked. They would be perfect for one another, platonically or romantically but Jaskier fell hard and fast.

Surely Geralt would love him back in the same way, right?

Jaskier was too afraid to ask at this point. He just kept saying “I love you” and hoping that Geralt would hear the truth. Neither of them had spoken about dating other people, but Jaskier knew there was no hope for him. Perhaps the odd fling, but he’d tried that once and without the connection he had with Geralt, he just wasn’t really into it.

He sighed dramatically and picked up his phone.

J - That’s fucking brilliant!!

He added a stream of emojis for good luck.

J - and all expenses paid for?! Drinks are on you, darling x

L - You should be so lucky.

- Pay for your own drink you cheapskate.

Jaskier squinted at the screen, pushing his fringe from his face. His tongue flicked out to lick his lips, and he ignored the dryness in his throat. Logically, he knew he should get up and get some water but his bed was comfy and he didn’t quite want to face the day yet, especially as Geralt was asleep. Things just felt heavier when Geralt was asleep.

He sighed again and tapped out a message.

J - Can you sneak Geralt in your suitcase?

- I’ll pay for the luggage fee <3

Lambert started typing immediately and Jaskier waited with bated breath. It had been a joke but there was always a chance that Lambert would be allowed a plus one… right?

L - I’m afraid not

- I’m sorry. I know you want to meet.

- Geralt is just as upset. The bastard hasn’t spoken to me all day.

Jaskier couldn’t help but laugh at that. He’d sensed something had been bothering his soulmate, especially when Geralt was the one to insist they video-called before Jaskier went to bed, but it was nice to hear that he wasn’t the only one being pathetic and unreasonably grumpy. Sometimes it felt like Jaskier felt everything and Geralt was just putting up with him because he didn’t have much choice. In his heart, Jaskier knew that wasn’t true, that Geralt just showed his love in a more sedate manner.

Opposites really do attract.

He sighed and switched chats, typing out a quick message to his soulmate.

J - I miss you. I love you. I will be unbearably needy today. Sorry!

Flipping his phone to the camera app, Jaskier snapped a quick selfie. He looked like a mess of stubble, glasses and ratty hair… but Geralt never seemed to mind.

J - Isn’t your soulmate the best?

- Love me?

- I love you

- I already said that but it’s true.

Jaskier cursed and threw his phone onto the end of the bed before remembering that he hadn’t answered Lambert yet. He pouted and scrambled to find his phone again, struggling against the weight of his blanket. The blanket did wonders for his ADHD but it could be a pain in the arse to move sometimes. Reluctantly, he switched back to Lambert’s chat.

J - I can’t wait to show you around! Ooh we could go to the natural history museum, I’m sure some of the stuffed animals look just like you! Or maybe a show!

L - Not sure how much I’’ll be able to hang out, but we’ll have to get a photo to show Geralt.

- He’ll probably be jealous.

- But he’ll manage.

Jaskier rolled his eyes. Siblings could be the worst. He’d never really gotten on well with his own sisters but he could imagine having Lambert for a brother would be a hundred times worse. Still, he smiled at his phone. Geralt would be jealous. Geralt wanted to meet him. That was a good thing, no matter how much Jaskier pined to see his soulmate over Lambert.

This was a start.

One day.

They would meet one day, and then Jaskier would never have to let him go. He just had to be patient… for now.

[prisonhannibal]

hi, im so sorry if im stepping the line here but i need i little guidance, sorry if its to personal and of course you dont have to answer but what does bipolar feels like? i know is a personal and different experience for everyone but could you give an example, im really trying to understand the different ways it could present

again im sorry if im being an asshole asking this

it’s okay, I’m comfortable talking about it. I think it’s important to talk about how it can actually feel for someone who deals with it, and not just the diagnostic criteria, since bipolar disorder is a very misunderstood disorder, so I don’t mind.

A lot of people think it means you’re either really happy or really sad, but I think Carrie Fisher described it better when she explained it to a kid as a brain condition that makes you go very fast or very sad.

It’s hard to compare the feeling to anything, but the closest thing I can think of is when I didn’t gradually increase the dose after taking a tolerance break for my adhd medication and got pretty high. I get this feeling of having a motor inside of my chest, it feels like anxiety but in a good way, it’s a very weird feeling. it really is like going fast, and I have an intense energy inside of me that feels like I’m gonna explode unless I pace around or do something. It just makes everything feel so urgent, so all decisions happen fast, I can’t shut up because I need to get every single thought out. I often feel like I’m normal and the rest of the world is too slow, so I get impatient and frustrated. I get very creative, so I’ll sit down and work on something for 12+ hours, go to bed, and then the second I go to bed have another idea, get out of bed, draw, go back to bed, have another idea, etc etc etc all night. and I HAVE to get out of bed, not doing it would make me explode.

Everything feels so urgent and time sensitive. I’ll think of wanting a book at 2am, and decide to stay awake until the bookstore opens and go there immediately instead of just sleep and do it tomorrow. Most impulsive decisions are like…goal focused. So I rarely buy a sweater, but I’ll buy several sweaters because i’m “changing my style” or five textbooks because i’ve decided to learn a new language. or every single supply I can think of for a hobby i’ve never tried before. Or a 150$ electric toothbrush because tooth health is an investment!! I NEED all this yarn because I’m gonna knit three sweaters. It’s either that, or it’s literally just for fun right NOW. so that’s stuff like buying several rounds of shots for all my coworkers etc. I did that recently.

last year I was studying for a very important exam so I pulled an all-nighter and ended up not studying because I was pacing back and forth in my room switching between two different languages (it wasn’t a language exam) on duolingo, reading a self help book while still pacing around, drawing, and ordering five self help books. I never read any of them. I then intentionally failed the exam because if I did I could redo it, so I showed up there on no sleep, and sat there counting to a thousand in my head and restarting while staring straight ahead and imagining songs until I could leave. I then did my second exam without studying because “I’m a genius” and thought I did amazingly and then got the results back as a 2 out of 6.

It kinda fucks with my senses, like everything is turned up to 300% and I can’t stop feeling how my eyes are moving and noticing how everything is made up of angles and seeing how i’d draw the 2 point perspective grid if I was gonna draw the room I’m in. It makes me feel like I’m actually going insane because everything is just slightly twisted and I’m too aware of it and how I and the world aren’t at the same speed.

Like you said, depends on the person, but it can also vary a lot between each episode. Euphoria is a big part of my hypomania, but I wouldn’t describe hypomania or mania as happy, I think “fast” is a better word for it. It doesn’t always feel good either. Sometimes it feels really fucking horrible. one of my episodes was straight up the worst experience i’ve had in my life and had me hospitalized with an “acute anxious breakdown” and diagnosed with a mixed anxiety disorder (generalized anxiety+ocd+panic disorder) and delusions even though I had never had a panic attack before and I haven’t since. it was basically a 2 month long panic attack with psychosis.

TL:DR: It feels like being high on stimulants, myself turned up to 300%, the volume and intensity of the entire world got turned up too high, having a mental breakdown but in a good way, everything is wrong but I’m having fun. It feels like everything is really urgent and it has to be now now now now you have to GO you can’t stop yourself you can never stop moving

[gingerrocketeer]

Piltover's Finest Anniversary

So I did a thing.... I wrote my first fanfic. I have had this knocking around my head since I finished the series for the 3rd time. My ADHD addled brain is craving more of these 2 so it is making up its own stuff. There is a very smutty part 2 to this that I decided to leave for another time, I am not sure I have the resolve to write the level detail that is created by my hyperfantasia (which I love) I am sure that people would appreciate it, but let me know if you want to see it. lol.

---

Part 1

Vi finished tucking the end of her wrap near her elbow and looked at Caitlyn. "I would still rather you didn't go. Our reservation is for 6." Vi felt the energy buzzing under her skin, she needed to do something other than laze about in bed. "It's not even 4 o'clock yet. It'll just be a quick run, and then I'll be back. We'll have plenty of time to get ready together." Caitlyn pouted, she had said no to going with Vi, and Vi knew that Caitlyn had wanted their first anniversary to be spent doing nothing except eating and burning off that food under the covers, but Vi had never been to this part of Ruinterra, she wanted to explore, she wanted to see what it was like. She had begged to go look around that morning, but she had been 'persuaded' to stay in bed rather. "I'll make it up to you tonight." Caitlyn raised an eyebrow at Vi, and pursed her lips. "You most certainly will, but there will be hell to pay if you are late. And we will discuss you wearing the tie when you get back." Vi's excitement exploded within her. Her grin made it almost all the way to her ears. "Thanks cupcake. I won't be late. And about the tie, I always feel like an asshole when I'm in a tie." Vi didn't wait for the rebuttal, but rather bounded out the door, trying not to run in the hallways. The city was bigger than she could have ever imagined was possible. She ran past buildings bigger than the Piltover Council Building, that looked older than the oldest parts of Zaun. It felt like she was making good time, so she slowed up a bit to catch her breath, it was then that she saw it. The biggest church she had ever seen, the windows were a thousand shattered pieces of colored glass. Who ever had built that and which ever God it was for; they had a lot of money. Ogling the building Vi didn't see the steps, and lost her footing, but her reflexes were sharp enough that she launched herself off the foot still on the ground and looked for a landing spot before tucking her body up and rolling through the air, she landed solidly, and took a deep breath. Impressed by her own recovery. Still marveling at her landing she felt a tug on her sleeve, a boy who looked to not be a teen yet had the fabric in his fingers. Not many people could sneak up on her, but the sight of him didn't alarm her. He looked like she had at that age. "You" he pointed at Vi, English was clearly not his first language. He searched for the word to use. "Eeer, bounce?" Vi worked out that he meant parkour. She nodded, she wondered where this interaction would lead. The boy pointed across the square at a group of teens throwing themselves onto and off of walls and stair cases. Vi followed the boy and leaned against a railing watching the teenagers have fun. It made her nostalgic for times with Mylo and Clagger and little Powder. Vi watched without shame, thrilled to have found a piece of culture that was the same across Ruinterra. The boy that had led her over appeared next to her, interrupting her reverie, he was balancing like an acrobat on the railing. He pointed at a girl about his height who had just landed an incredible backflip. "That's my sister." Vi felt like she had been invited into a very private moment among friends. She smiled broadly looking at the boy. "She's very good." He nodded and disappeared, moments later Vi saw him jump off a ledge and barrel sideways through the air and land with a roll, his form was a little awkward, but he had guts. His 'family' laughed at him but applauded. At the other end of the square the church bell tower tolled the hour. Vi looked up at the gargantuan clock that adorned the building and saw that it was 5pm. She also realized that she was well and truly lost, with only a vague idea of how to get back to the hotel. Without saying anything she waved to the young boy and ran, trying to remember how she had ended up at the square. Her feet pounded against the pavement, hearing Caitlyn's voice in her head. There was going to be hell to pay, she had said she wanted to get a drink at the bar half an hour before their

dinner reservations. Vi was definitely going to be late. After looping through streets that looked vaguely familiar, by some miracle she spotted the building she was looking for. She crossed the street without looking and skidded to a stop as she entered the lobby. She was breathing hard. She had no way of knowing how long it had taken her to find her way back, but she had a feeling she was going to be in trouble. The chime of the elevator drew her attention and she stood upright as Caitlyn stepped off the elevator. Her expression was thunder as they made eye contact from across the lobby. Caitlyn stepped back and held the elevator open. Vi hurried, but knew not to run, she tried desperately not to make eye contact. Caitlyn's posture told her that she was using all her years of elocution training to keep the anger from showing through, her breathing was flat and even. Caitlyn held the key card out to Vi as she crossed into the elevator. Vi took hold of it, still not making eye contact, but Caitlyn didn't let it go. Vi swallowed slowly as she braced herself for the repercussions of her tardiness. Vi noticed that Caitlyn had had her nails done to match her new dress. Vi also noticed the gentle floral scent of Caitlyn's favorite perfume. When she finally found the courage to look into her partner's eyes they were as dark as her dress. The fury that was in no way visible outwardly radiated from her gaze like heat from the sun. Vi wanted to apologize, wanted to say so many things, but she didn't get a chance. Caitlyn exited the elevator still holding the key card. "I don't like to be kept waiting." She let the card go and Vi heard her heals on the marble lobby as the doors closed. She knew she had fucked up seriously. Caitlyn only ever used that tone when speaking to suspects or disobedient subordinates. Vi took off her hoodie and undid her hand wraps as she rode up to their floor. She watched the numbers count up, and when the doors opened and she was sure no one was in front of them she bolted. Tearing down the corridor to the room. She put the key card in backward on the first try, then dropped it and fumbled it, finally opening the door. Caitlyn had laid her suit out on the bed and had her dress shoes polished. Vi toed her shoes off in the bathroom and turned the shower on before she stripped down, putting her clothes in a neat pile on the floor. The water was almost too hot, but she didn't have time to fiddle with the knob to get the perfect temperature. She soaped up and rinsed off before it became unbearable, she was sure to rinse the sweat out of her hair. He skin was pink and tender as she dried her self, the towel voluptuously soft against her skin. Caitlyn had laid her perfume and hair wax out next to the basin. On top of her hair wax was her wedding band. She let out an exasperated sigh, chastising herself. "This woman is too good for me!" She sprayed the spicy musky perfume onto her sternum, she could never figure out where else it was supposed to go. Her ring went on next and she tamed her hair and combed into the style that Caitlyn liked her to when they went to high society events. In the bedroom she fought her underwear and socks onto her still damp body, before dressing and slipping her feet into her shoes. She would have to tie the laces in the elevator. Under her suit on the bed was a tie that Caitlyn had picked out, it was already tied, and with a deep sigh Vi slid it over her head, careful not to mess up her hair. She was proud of herself, she was ready to go in over 5 minutes. A quick glance in the mirror to be sure she looked presentable she left the room. Pocketing the key card as she closed the door. She hoped she wouldn't have to wait long for the elevator. She considered taking the stairs, but didn't want to ruffle herself getting to the dining room. And elderly couple was waiting for the elevator when she trotted toward it, the doors chimed and they began to shuffle in. In the politest way she knew, she shouted for them to hold the door. They smiled at her as she hurried aboard. She

breathlessly said thanks as she bent to tie her shoes. "You look very handsome my dear." The elderly lady smiled at Vi as she stood and straightened her jacket and fixed her hair. "Thanks. I'm late for dinner with my wife." The elderly man chuckled kindly. "It's never a good idea to keep your wife waiting," he looked loving down at his wife, "after 47 years I have learned that it can cause trouble." Vi saw the lady squeeze her husband's hand, her smile a little wider. "A little groveling fixes most faux pas." Vi let out a nervous chuckle. "I'll remember that. Thanks." The doors were about to open, and the elderly lady put her hand on Vi forearm. "Holdup dear, your tie is skew." Vi politely waited as the woman fussed and fixed her tie for her. "There you go. Go charm her." They waited for Vi to exit before them, and she said another thank you over her shoulder. She wanted to run, but knew better of it. Her shoes made a sharp tap tapping as she hurried toward the bar. The clock above the door told her to was quarter to 6. She saw Caitlyn as she entered the bar, she sat at a table near a corner, her one leg dangling from the bar stool, as she politely held her hands in her lap. Her dress hugged in all the right places, but was modest enough that it was elegant. The color complimented Caitlyn's hair color perfectly. Vi's heart skipped just looking at her. No matter what happened or had happened the sight of this woman stirred something in Vi's soul that was deep and had been left to wither for much of her life. There was a man talking to Caitlyn, she did not look to be enjoying the conversation. Her gaze drifted from his face, and met Vi at the door. In that instant Vi felt her heart swell, and she wanted to be the only 2 people in the bar, so that she could hold her and have her cuddle against her. Vi stood to her full height, which admittedly wasn't very much, and strode confidently toward Caitlyn. She stepped around the gentleman, and placing her left hand on the table, her wedding band prominent, in a silly display of partnership, she lent in for a kiss. "I am so sorry I am late." She tried to get the emotion she felt, at making Caitlyn wait, to come through in her voice. Caitlyn offered her her cheek. Shit, Vi had really blown it. She turned her attention to the man that was still talking he was clearly trying to woo Caitlyn, but was also clearly a few drinks in over his head. "Hey buddy," Vi tried to be as polite and charming as possible, she really wanted to punch his lights out. "I think it's time for you to go." He looked at Vi as if it was the first time noticing her, he opened and closed his mouth a few times like a fish gasping for air, before huffing a "whatever" under his breath and staggered back to the bar. Vi took the seat he had been leaning on and sucked in a deep breath as she looked Caitlyn in the eye. "You look exceptional tonight." Caitlyn narrowed her eyes at Vi, her jaw sticking out, she slid her tongue over her front teeth, as if contemplating her response. Vi pleaded with her eyes. She truly was sorry. She had worn the tie, and rightly felt like an asshole. "I see you found the tie I picked out for you." Vi nodded and looked down at it. it was black, but there was a shimmery fabric woven into the black in a paisley design. It was feminine, but not girlie in the traditional sense. It was also as elegant as the burgundy colored suit that Caitlyn had had made for Vi. Vi didn't know what to say, and found herself awkwardly looking down at her suit. The color and the feel of the threads were like nothing Vi had ever owned growing up. She felt fancy. As if to save them a waiter appeared to tell them that their table was available. Caitlyn said thank you and they stood to follow the waiter. Caitlyn in heals was almost a full head taller than Vi. She waited to fall in step behind Caitlyn, watching her body sashay as she walked. Vi placed her hand in the small of Caitlyn's back as they followed the waiter between tables. Caitlyn reached behind her and took Vi's

hand, she gave it a gentle squeeze. Vi let out the breath she had been holding. Caitlyn had learned well from her mother how to chill people to the bone with a look. Vi would more happily face off against a giant than weather the wrath of a Kirraman woman. The waiter led them onto the terrace that overlooked a swath of the city. Vi could see the steeple of the church she had found earlier. The sun hadn't set yet, but was getting low in the sky. The colors were breathtaking. Vi felt a gentle tug on her hand and realized that she had stopped moving to take in the scenery. She mumbled sorry and started moving again, unable to tear her eyes from the view. Their table was against the railing, and the waiter pulled Caitlyn's chair out for her, Vi waited for him to leave before she took her own seat across from her. The late afternoon light brought out the brighter shades of blue in Caitlyn's hair and deepened the shades of indigo, her eyes too seemed to glow. The anger that had been there earlier was gone, and when Vi looked she realized that Caitlyn was watching her as she was enraptured by the cityscape. Vi felt her cheeks flush. "What? Do I look ok? I did the hair thing you like. Thank you for laying everything out for me before you left. I am so incredibly sorry that I lost track of time. I totally fucked up, and understand that I let you down." Caitlyn put her hand on top of Vi's as it balled up into a fist. It silenced her, and her hand relaxed. "You look perfect. That suit looks better on you in this light than I could have ever imagined." Caitlyn eyebrow rose, and she tried to hide a naughty smile. "It will look even better on the floor later though." Vi blushed all the way to her ears, and she moved her hand atop of Caitlyn's and rubbed her fingers along the inside of her wrist. The waiter who had given them a moment to settle reappeared to offer them a drink. Cailyn who spoke the local language ordered a local wine, and asked about house specials and ordered food for both her and Vi, as Vi sat captivated by the magic of the dinner that Caitlyn had planned for them. There was a comfortable silence between them after the waiter walked away. Vi broke it, looking Caitlyn square in the eye. "I now understand why you didn't want me to be late. This sunset is magnificent." Caitlyn grinned broadly looking very proud of herself. Vi didn't want to be anywhere else in the world. " Happy anniversary, I love you Cupcake."

[gildedbarbarian]

They failed me in a thousand ways, but I don’t think this was one of them. I never said anything, after all, didn’t have the vocabulary for my experiences or the worldliness to understand the real tragedy of what had happened. I, as all children do, lacked the perspective to understand the frailty of what I lost. Of what was taken from me. That part, I really can’t fault them for. I’m sure there were signs because there always are. But childhood trauma and ADHD present similarly at younger ages, and while it wasn’t a possibility anyone considered until a lot later in my life, the fact that that line is blurred in a Chicken or the Egg type of scenario isn’t something that escapes me. Maybe I just hid it well. Maybe I shoved it so far underneath the bed that it became part of the foundation. Maybe it wormed its way into my bone marrow. 

The victims of their failure pile up around me, and the older I get, the more work I do, the more I find. It’s sort of like an archeological excavation dig, I imagine. You know something’s there, but you’re not sure what or how much or how deep it goes. In my case, the trenches are full to the brim. It almost feels like I can’t throw a stone without finding one of them, purely on accident. Some days, it feels like I’m one bad touch away from being buried alive in their numbers. Suffocated by the weight of my own tragedy, smothered out of existence by it. 

I found another. A few days ago, a term was hurled at me by someone who will never know my name, and true to form, it bounced off of one. I’d never seen her before. Well, I guess that’s not strictly true. She’s been in the corner of my vision for as long as I can remember, arms always outstretched, always asking for help. I don’t know if I just stopped seeing her or if I started to ignore her or if she really just faded out for a while. Got lost in the crowd of other victims that were much, much more palatable than she is. 

She’s not theirs, but she is someone’s. Mine, in every way that matters, but also foreign in a way that I don’t know if I’ll ever have the vocabulary for, even if I ingested the whole of Webster’s with a healthy side of Oxford’s. Too small to be a threat, too soft to be a weapon, too young to self-advocate, she’s everything I hate about childhood. I’ve been told that the only way she’ll get better is if I acknowledge her, bring her in close and offer her the shelter that no one else ever did. There isn’t a day that passes where that seems feasible, and sometimes I think she’ll haunt me like a sickly Victorian ghost until I make it to my grave. 

That’s not something I’m proud of. 

I feel a little bit like I’m choking. As if this ode to my pain is stuck in my throat like a peppermint down the wrong pipe. Like that time I choked on a Granny candy in first grade and could feel the imprint of it in my airway for the rest of the day. I didn’t ask for help then, either. In a tragically artistic, gothic sort of color, I’m jealous of women like Mary Shelley. Women who took the pain the world gave them and made something horrendous, something splendid, something gilded and remembered out of it. Women who hold a mirror up to the world through their fiction, who can change minds through the sort of smoke and mirrors and sleight of hand that makes it hard to realize what’s happening at all. I don’t think that will ever be me. 

I, it seems, am hopelessly cursed to write non-fiction. The mirror I hold up is not gilded or polished. It is smudged and stained and cracked. The kind of mirror where you can’t see what’s directly behind you, but you can see four different shades of your own face. Fragmented. Jilted. Wrecked. No one will look at my mirror and call it beautiful. Instead, they will look into it and see infinity in reverse. Every step that got them where they are now. The ugly, bitter, harsh truth. Or at least, that’s my hope. Horrifying, isn’t it? 

It wouldn’t be the first time.

- what do a mirror and a ghost have to say to one another? (c.a.d.)

[gay-ghosts-committing-crimes]

Two Best Friends Going to the Thrift Store!! (They Don’t Kiss)

AO3 link is here

Summary: Bobby and Flynn decide that watching people get their nails painted isn't fun, so they figure that shopping is the only answer.

Warnings: swearing and a sickening amount of platonic friendship

Words: 1,472

taglist, just ask to be added or removed: @barrel-of-cat-mituna @completekeefitztrash @tiergan-andrin-alenefar @lemontarto @hershis-kotlc @genesiscaveat @everything-else-and-mars @juline-dizznee @chaotic-basics @an-absolute-travesty @classyfunnyquotesmuffin7 @iamstealingyourgenderaswespeak @itstiger720 @introvertedscarecrow @sunset-telepath @an-idiot-in-a-trenchcoat @cowboypossume @anaccidentwaitingtohappen @sofia-not-sophie @fire-sapphics @dr-alan-grant-blog-blog @real-smooth @juline-dizznee @it-tastes-like-lizard

Flynn groaned from where she lay sprawled out on Julie's bed.

"I'm bored," They complained, idly picking at the covers, "I'm too gay and adhd for this."

Bobby agreed from his spot on a beanbag. "Don't get me wrong, I love the vibes, and if anyone can pull off red nail polish, it's Reg, but watching nails get done? Not my version of a hot girl summer."

Julie rolled her eyes at them and continued painstakingly painting Reggie's thumbnail, making sure it was completely even before responding.

"First of all Flynn, don't pick at the blankets, your nails are still drying, second of all, Bobbin, you are literally nonbinary. You don't get a hot girl summer."

Bobby clutched dramatically at their  chest, purposefully deepening his voice and pouting.

"Jules! The pain- who knew you were the gatekeeping girlboss of the Molina family? That's so transphobic." They paused, clearly waiting for someone to stand up for him. No one did.

"Fine, I see how it is. It's because I'm amab, isn't it? If Luke and Alex were here, they would let me have a hot girl summer."

Reggie piped up, "They probably wouldn't. Luke would be on Julie's side, and Alex would either agree with Willie, or if they weren't here, say something sarcastic about how you haven't earned a hot girl summer."

Bobby huffed, flipping over on the bean bag so he was basically upside down, and made a face at Reggie, who only smiled and shrugged, his cheeks lightly pink.

Flynn laughed but didn't disagree, and Bobby glared at them before flipping them off and haughtily crossing their arms. She only cackled more and he gave up, scoffing under his breath.

Julie hummed quietly under her breath as she worked, and Flynn made various noises to stim in an effort to not ruin her nails, but otherwise the small group fell quiet.

Finally Bobby couldn't handle the silence and pushed themself up, stretching and ruffling Reggie's hair before grabbing Flynn around the waist and lifting them up onto his shoulder, ignoring her protests about being careful of her nails, and heading for the door.

"Flynn and I will be back, we've got hot he/they and she/they shit to do." Flynn grumbled from where they were thrown over his shoulder, complaining about how they treated her like a rag doll, but didn't put up a fight to leaving. After all, she had been bored too.

"Alright half-pint, where to?" Bobby gingerly set her down once they made it outside, this time noticeably more careful about their nails, and she gave a nod of thanks.

"I'd pinch you for calling me that, but my nails are still drying," She glared disapprovingly at him, but they only gave a cheeky smile and started walking, leaving her to follow. 

"I think there's a new thrift store we could check out; I've been meaning to get some nice platform shoes."

Bobby nodded in understanding and plucked at their black shirt, which they had cropped himself "I've been wanting a new crop top or two," They replied.

Flynn checked out their outfit and raised her eyebrows approvingly. Bobby was sporting his black crop top, a pair of red high-waisted cut-off shorts, and black combat boots with rainbow laces. Their hair was loose, and he had black winged eyeliner to finish off the look.

"You can't really go wrong with a crop top," She agreed, and he grinned in response.

"Thanks half-pint." They went to rub his knuckles on her head, but laughed and pulled away when they threatened him with being called a CisHet™.

"Hey hey!" He gestured placatingly as he laughed, "No need to be harsh!"

She rolled their eyes, but gave a soft smile and bumped their shoulders together.

They slung their arm over her shoulder and started walking again.

~~

The thrift shop was mostly empty of people when the friends got there, but the selection was good and they both enjoyed searching the racks and showing off the random treasures they found tucked away, like a pair of boots that would have been a near perfect match of the combat boots Bobby was wearing, except for the fact that they were a beautiful floral pattern, and an adorable button up with sunflowers and bees that Flynn found between an atrocious neon orange jean jacket, and cute quarter-zip jacket with handmade embroidery on it.

Bobby paused their search for the Perfect Crop Top to hold a teal dress against his chest, and raised an eyebrow at Flynn.

"Well, what do you think? Figure this would convince Julie that I deserve my very own hot girl summer?"

Flynn snorted and shook her head, grabbing a garish purple dress with more frills than square inches, and handed it to him.

"Try this," They smirked, "You'd have the hottest girl summer of us all. Might even catch yourself a man in that outfit."

He stopped as if considering, and then regretfully shook their head, "I couldn't. There's only one person I'd want to catch, and I wouldn't want to make anyone feel bad by being the hottest in the group." He winked and bit his lip to make the fuck-boy face, to which Flynn responded by slugging them in the arm.

"Never, and I mean never, do that at me again, and also? I literally exist. I'm the hottest of the friend group. We all know this." She posed for a second and then turned back to the dresses, eyeing them up and down and smiled to themself.

"'Only one person'," They teased, partially pulling out a sequined pink dress and wrinkling their nose before glancing back at Bobby, "Please, you are head over HEELS for him. I'm surprised you haven't made a move yet honestly."

She grabbed a lavender sundress and held it up for his approval.

"Cute, I like it for you. And it's not "surprising" that I haven't made a move. I'm just... being patient. Besides little miss disaster lesbian, you haven't stopped pining over Carrie in years, and you haven't even asked her out once!! at least I've done more than that."

Flynn spun on him, "What?! You didn't tell me?!?!?"

"Wait wait wait, it wasn't anything big!" Bobby held up their hands and took a step back, "We were all up until like, four in the morning, and high on lack of sleep and all that, and I said we should all go on a double date. Luke pouted because he didn't want to go without Julie, and Alex was already asleep, so it was just me and Reggie.

"I guess now that I think about it, it was kind of a date? But like, a platonic one." They shrugged and turned back to searching the racks of clothes, but Flynn wouldn't let go of it so easily.

"So you're telling me you went on a date, with your crush, alone, and you think he doesn't like you back?! Are you fucking kidding me?? Oooh, pretty!"

They paused their rant momentarily when a cute pair of pants caught her eye, and she held them up to see how they looked. Flynn put them back and shook her head.

"Anyways, he's as much in love with you as you are with him. And. I'm getting these sunglasses because fuck you, that's why." 

Bobby rolled his eyes, "I wasn't going to tell you not to, but aight. And he might like me back. It's not like-" They waved their hands vaguely, "- like Luke and Jules." 

They were practically made for each other, and it was never a question about whether or not they liked each other back. They just. Did. 

"With Reggie it's different. He's been through a lot Flynn, and I'd die alone a thousand times before hurting him. I just don't know if he feels the same about me."

They were both quiet for a bit, flipping through hangers and assorted shoes. It wasn't an awkward silence, just a thoughtful one, and Bobby was grateful that Flynn was able to tease and annoy, but ultimately listen and offer advice too. They were a good friend, and Bobby wouldn't trade it for the world.

After a while they went to check out, the cashier offering them a smile and polite goodbye when Flynn pushed open the door, warm air flowing around them as they began the walk back to Julie's house. 

"Hey Bobbers?"

"Yeah half-pint?"

"I don't think the boys, or you, would ever let you come close to hurting Reggie. And by the way? He tooootally likes you back."

"Yeah?" He gave a grateful smile.

"Yeah."

"Thanks half-pint." They laughed when she flicked them, and pulled her into a hug before linking their arms and singing a song under his breath.

It was a good day to have friends like his.

[caseywond3r]

(this can now be read on my AO3, as well!!)

(started out as a reblog/response to this post by @phibii, but it got too long. still please go give the original post some love!!)

(also, please note that this is all in good fun. I don't actually ship DNF and I am not speculating about their sexualities or relationship. this is just a lighthearted drabble based on their internet personalities.)

- - -

George sits in Dream's lap while he's editing. Dream isn't really sure why. It just started one day when George decided he wasn't getting enough attention because Dream was too focused on his work. He's like a cat. He wants Dream's attention any time he's busy. He's not even that clingy usually, but he gets frustrated when he doesn't at least have the option of having Dream's undivided attention. So, he sits in his lap while he edits.

Dream loses his shit a little bit at first, doing his, "what? WHAT?" that he always does when George flirts with him, but he's also so used to George's antics that after the first time it happens, he's just like, "Okay. I guess this is a thing now." It becomes one of their things, one of the thousand little rituals they share, and neither would ever admit to it, but they really enjoy it. It feels safe, it feels warm. It makes them feel closer to one another, not only physically, but emotionally. Maybe Dream even starts putting out more videos just because he knows that George will sit on his lap when he's busy with editing—though that's probably just wishful thinking on my part. And maybe he doesn't fully realise that it isn't a solely platonic affection because it's George, ya know? This is his best friend and he loves him dearly and it's normal to want to spend time together and be close to each other, ya know? And yeah, when Sapnap walks in on them like this, he makes fun of them, but what does he know? This is normal.

Except... A few days later, when Sapnap tries to sit on Dream's lap as a joke, to make fun of him for doing it with George, Dream pushes him off immediately. It doesn't feel all nice and warm and sweet with Sapnap. Not like it does with George, despite being equally as good of friends with Sapnap. That's when Dream finally realises, This isn't normal at all.

He's nervous now. He doesn't know what he's feeling and he doesn't know if he'll ever be able to label it. After all, it's always been there, hasn't it? He's always felt this way. He just didn't realise that what he was feeling wasn't normal.

He puts off recording for weeks on end. The fans are ticked. They're trying to be supportive of his break, but what can they say? They miss their streamer. After two months with zero YouTube videos, Dream runs out of excuses. He records his new video and dodges George's thinly veiled questions about when he plans to edit it, waiting until George is out with friends to do so.

The hours stretch on and Dream is getting more and more frustrated. His ADHD is flaring up. He can't focus on anything. Every click of his keyboard is too loud, every flash of his monitor is too loud. Something is just wrong and he's not stupid, he knows what it is, but he can't admit it. Because if he admits it, then it becomes real, and he's not ready for it to become real.

So, he sits, and he tries not to let the frustration spill out from his eyes, and he tries not to let his mind wander into wondering why he feels this way about his best friend. He hears the front door open and he can only hope that it's Sapnap because he hasn't gotten enough work done to go to bed now and hide under the covers and pretend he isn't awake when George comes in to check on him.

Unfortunately, Dream doesn't always get what he wants.

The door creaks open and Dream knows without even looking that it's George. He's the only one in the house who never learned how to knock. George pauses for a second in the doorway, noting Dream's screen curiously, before stepping forward into his line of sight.

"Dream?"

Dream's glassy, bloodshot eyes respond for him.

"Hey, what's wrong?" George asks. "Are you okay?"

"No," Dream snaps. "I'm not fucking okay. I can't fucking focus on any of this shit. I haven't gotten a single thing done tonight."

George steps ever closer, pulling Dream into a hug. With Dream in his desk chair, George finally gets to feel taller than him as he pulls Dream against him and feels his face press into his stomach. "It's okay, Dream. You're trying your best. Sometimes, you just need to call it quits and start again tomorrow."

"I can't. I've already put it off for too long."

"Well, then, at least let me keep you company."

"No." Dream rips himself away from George, pushing his chair back a few feet.

"Why not?"

"Because... Because... I don't feel right."

"What do you mean? Are you sick?"

"No, I'm not sick. Dammit, George, I just... I don't feel what I'm supposed to feel for you. I don't know what I feel at all."

George doesn't look disgusted, and Dream thinks he must've misunderstood him. If George knew about all of Dream's big, swirling, terrifying feelings, there's no way he'd be so steady. Almost like he's trying to calm a frightened animal, when he asks, "Does it matter?"

"What?"

"Whatever you feel, it isn't wrong. I feel it, too, I guess. And I don't know what it is either, but it doesn't really matter, does it? Because we both feel it. We both care a lot about each other and we both love to be around each other. How can that be wrong?"

Dream chews on the inside of his cheek, trying to think of all the million reasons why this is a terrible idea—whatever this is. He can't. He can't think of a single goddamn thing. Reluctantly, he pushes himself back toward George, opening his arms.

Instead of sitting on Dream's knee, facing the computer, like he normally does, George sits facing Dream, smaller thighs bracketing larger ones, and rests his head in the crook of Dream's neck, deep and slow breaths fanning out against the tanned skin.

It takes Dream a few minutes to find the courage to ask, "What are we?"

George pulls away from Dream's neck, giggling like that's the stupidest question he's ever heard. "We're us, idiot."

Dream chews on that for a second, lets the words perforate his stupid brain and calm the rushing blood in his ears. "I think I like that," he says finally.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." He pulls George back in to rest against his neck, tucking his own face into the pillow of George's hair. "I like us."

[gumnut-logic]

A Nutty 2020 recap

Okay, 2020 was a doozy of a year, both personally and world wide.

In Australia, it started with the continent literally on fire. My wisdom teeth packed it in and then I stepped on a bee and ended up with a foot infection that crippled me for a week. I had dental surgery which I woke up in the middle of and a week later COVID hit the planet and we’ve been in March for most of the rest of the year. Work became an emotional challenge that literally broke me in places it had never broken me before - and I had it easy compared to the rest of the world!

But! During all this, there was Thunderbirds and Thunderfam and thank goodness for that.

We saw the end of Thunderbirds Are Go :( but boy, we revelled in it and met Jeff and continue to explore the possibilities this amazing show left us with.

Scrolling through my archive shows just how active we have been. Admittedly it is through a lens of me, but there is just soooo much stuff created by the fandom, it is frickin’ amazing! So much fic and art and screenshots and gifs and wow, it is such a colourful journey looking back.

As for me...

The other day I had one of my nieces in my studio and was showing her how I did my stamping. She is only little and quite innocently informed me that her Dad says ‘Auntie Nutty never finishes anything’. Some of you may know me well enough to know that I have an issue with this very statement which has haunted me since childhood. I suspect I have an undiagnosed case of ADHD and it has been a battle throughout my life to keep my focus on something long enough to finish it. I have developed techniques and strategies and have made a lot of progress.

So, to my father who started this stigmatism and my brother who is apparently still holding the damned flag, here are a few stats on how I performed in 2020.

I started 65 stories in 2020 (including We’ll Be Home for Christmas which was partly written in 2019, but I’m claiming it for 2020 anyway). That number only includes fics above a thousand words because I archive smaller ones differently and can’t be bothered adding them up.

Of those 65 fics, I finished 53! Fifty-three complete fics ranging from 1000 words all the way up to 68,232 - my second longest fic ever.

I currently have twelve WIPs on my plate from 2020 plus The Hero from 2019. (there are a few from the previous two years, which I’m not counting right now, but then I’m not counting the completed ones either :P ).

So bro and the person who commented on one of my fics complaining that most of them were unfinished, you can go stick that in your craw and smoke it :P

That is a total of 374,808 words in one year!

Apart from fic, I also completed seven TAG artworks and three moodboards.

All the while holding down a day job and running my own business and being a mum (my poor wild children whom I neglect) and a wife (poor, poor hubby). So there! ::gets haughty at imaginary father person and crosses arms in defiance::

But I couldn’t have done it without the support of our wonderful Thunderfam ::hugs you all madly:: I won’t name names, but you know who you are and I love you all for it.

In 2020, we launched FabFiveFeb, International Rescue Relief, WorldWindows, Sensory Sunday and a second Fluffember. We had Pen & Ink Week and Whumptober. We have created sooooooo much this year. A year that saw the end of the latest reincarnation of our favourite show and saw so many challenges on a RL level. I know some of you literally waded through shit last year ::hugs you soooo, soooo much::

So despite 2020 being a bucket of worms (and that is insulting worms, cos worms are quite fascinating), we, as a fandom, and me as a writer, have both achieved quite a bit. And to draw on the tiny rays of sunshine from a very stormy year, we should be proud of what we have achieved despite it all.

And excuse me while I give a few pertinent family members the finger :P

Nutty

(complete with both Mummy and Daddy issues)

[adventuresindolls]

Meet Lexie Chapter 3: What Flying Feels Like

(Aside: I know in the story Sophie gets chocolate ice cream and this is clearly a popsicle, but it's the closest I had)

Sophie's friend did come over the next day after Sunday school, but Lexie hardly saw them. She hardly noticed anything that day. Over breakfast, Papa had announced that as a treat to make up for moving, and to forget new school anxiety, they would be going to the County Fair every day this week. Lexie hadn't heard anything said to her since then.

Fairs were thrilling. They meant rare treats and delicious smells and rows of bright booths to hop between. Sophie and Lexie had an ongoing system where they would run around as buddies between the game booths and the ones selling pretty necklaces and giving away paper fans. But when Lexie started to get overwhelmed, they would go together to the 4-H building to look at pretty dresses and pictures of flowers. It was air conditioned in there and much quieter than the rest of the fair. Sometimes Lexie would find a cool corner to sit and read the book she always carried while Sophie found a play area or other kids to talk to.

But best of all were the rides.

They usually went for one day a year. But this year was special—5 whole days of excitement! It was hard for Lexie to think about anything else all day. She read the same page 6 times, lost a Mario game badly to Sophie, and finally went for a long walk around the new neighborhood. She saw a bunch of kids outside playing in sprinklers or shooting Nerf guns at each other, all younger than her. She only got 3 blocks away before deciding it was too hot and turning around. The rest of the day was spent curled up on the couch watching her favorite magic girl anime, which the conversation at shul the day before had reminded her she liked.

She woke up way too early on Monday. By the time Papa called her for breakfast, she had finished her favorite book again and rearranged her stuffed animals. After her usual bowl of dry cereal, she put on her favorite space-themed dress and her comfiest velcro shoes and was pulling on the car door handle before Daddy even had the picnic basket closed.

Lexie had never been to these particular fairgrounds before, but they were as bright and full as she expected. The day wasn't hot yet, which was perfect for running around. They each got $5 for a snack so they didn't have to regroup until lunch.

"What about buying fair stuff?" Lexie asked.

"You can have souvenir money on Friday," Papa told her. "Otherwise you'll buy one thing today and find something better tomorrow."

They ran through the rows of stalls, stuffing Sophie's overall pockets and Lexie's narwhal purse with free pencils in every color of the rainbow and candy they definitely weren't supposed to eat yet. Lexie only had a couple chocolate kisses, but before they reached the end of the lane Sophie had eaten six.

They spent the morning looking at every single booth and spinning prize wheels until they got bored. Having pushed the absolute limit of their patience, they made it as far as 11 o'clock before heading for the games.

Lexie went straight for the ducky fishing game. They had a giant octopus as the big prize. The smiling man handed her a fishing pole and told her to go for it.

She did not immediately go for it. She thought the duck she was aiming for—the little gold one—was about three and half feet away. How hard would she have to swing to hit it without overreaching?

"Hey, are you gonna go?" The man looked a little less smiley now.

Lexie blamed him startling her for why the first time the line went flying past the entire tank. It was much closer the second time, but still plopped into the water an inch away from its goal.

"That's alright!" The man encouraged her. "Try one more time!"

"No, thanks," Lexie politely told him and dashed away before he could try to convince her. She had just remembered that she wanted to save her remaining 8 tickets for rides.

The next thing she remembered was that she hadn't heard Sophie's chatter in a long time. She would be in so much trouble if dads found her alone.

Even worse, something might happen to Sophie, who was "not the most responsible or cautious" kid.

The crowds around her seemed to double suddenly. They were mostly adults or teenagers much taller than her and she couldn't see more than three feet in any direction.

"Sophie?" She meant to call out, but it came out as barely a whisper. That happened sometimes.

Lexie ran up and down the aisles of games and all around the rides next to them. Surely her sister wouldn't be bored enough among the flashing lights and interactive booths to wander back to the ones she had no money for. She tried and failed twice more to call for Sophie, but she doubted even at her loudest she could be heard over the thousand conversations that buzzed around her.

She was about to give up and go find her fathers—who were probably listening to one of the free concerts—and enlist their help whatever the consequences (she was pretty sure by now that Sophie was being murdered or had fallen down a magically appearing manhole) when she spotted her long dark hair by a food booth in a far corner.

"Where have you been?" Lexie wanted to be angry, but instead she felt like crying.

"Right here," Sophie's voice was muffled by a bite of chocolate ice cream, "Where have YOU been?"

"You ran off! You can't do that! We have to stay together."

"I didn't run off. I stopped 'cause I wanted to play something different."

"You have to tell me that!" Lexie really wasn't about to admit that she was mostly embarrassed she hadn't made sure Sophie, who had ADHD and was known to get distracted, was with her.

"Don't yell at me!" Sophie was getting mad.

"Alright, I'm sorry," Lexie finally relented. She gave Sophie a quick hug, which was so rare for her—too much touch made her brain go staticky—that Sophie stopped arguing. "Let's go ride the rides. What's wrong?"

"I don't have any tickets left." Sophie's eyes were wide with surprise and disappointment. "I played a bunch of games, and I didn't even win anything. Can I have one of your tickets?"

Lexie looked down at her sister's tear-filled eyes and felt a sudden sense of protectiveness. She planned so Sophie didn't have to. "You can have two. But only if you tell me where you're going."

"Ok!" Sophie's face instantly brightened.

The rides were all bright colors and flashing lights and quick movements. Lexie didn't even know where to focus and let Sophie lead the way, finishing her ice cream and chattering away about how cool every ride was.

And then she saw the swings.

It had always been her dream to ride that one. It was always more pastel than neon and it looked like fun. Just like spinning on the playground swings but MORE. She had wanted to last year but got too scared at the last minute, even though Papa promised to go with her.

"Sit here and hold my purse. I'll be back." She barely glanced to make sure Sophie obeyed before skipping to wait in line. It seemed very soon that a teenager with a green mohawk took her ticket and motioned her up the metal step. Up close, the ride seemed much bigger, but no one else was hesitating to strap themselves in. Swallowing, she grabbed the chains on the closest chair and pulled herself up into it.

She was still pretty sure it was a good idea, right up until a different teenager came by and pulled the metal bar down on her lap. All of a sudden, she kind of wanted to go back to fishing for ducks. She glanced through the crowd to find Sophie, who was still on the bench and completely ignoring her, her favorite otter in one hand and the other covered in melted ice cream.

Lexie gasped and grabbed the chains with both hands at the first jerk of movement. Several people around her giggled, and she heard at least one "Oh!" of surprise. Very slowly, the ride began to spin and rise into the air. She was torn between stomach-dropping anxiety at being so high and absolute delight at all she could see. The rows of booths looked like brightly colored handkerchief squares. The people swarmed like ants—at least, she thought, there were no crowds up here. She soon lost track of Sophie. And then she could see beyond the fair, to the tiny houses of the city itself. The taller buildings downtown looked like shiny metal twigs. She forgot to be worried.

They were spinning faster. And faster. It wasn't scary up here, really, it was wonderful. It was like everything she'd always wanted to feel when she spun herself until she fell down or kicked her legs to swing as high as possible. It was impossible to describe. Like everything that was always too loud and too bright just stopped. Like there was no such thing as feeling trapped and panicked in a crowd. Like nothing existed but her and the seat and spinning. Like she could stay up here forever. She kicked her legs, making her chair wiggle.

It couldn't actually last forever, of course, and almost before she knew it they were slowing. Her stomach dropped again, this time with disappointment, and her legs nearly collapsed beneath her when she first stumbled out of the chair and through the metal gate.

She found Sophie on the same bench where she'd left her, the remainder of her ice cream staining her hands, face, and overalls, but miraculously not Elliot the Otter. Lexie briefly considered telling her to go wash up, then decided it wasn't worth it.

"Hi! I'm gonna go ride the rollercoaster!"

"Ok."

Sophie hopped up and stuffed Elliot back into her pocket. "What are you gonna ride next?"

"The swings."

"Again?" Sophie looked at her like riding the same ride twice was the weirdest thing she'd heard that day.

But Lexie couldn't help grinning at the thought of freedom and flight. "Yeah."

[painted-crow]

Secondary Toast Revolving Door, Part 1

I guess I should start with a little about me, since that’s easier than making you pick through previous asks for information and some of you guys are new here. This one’s going to be heavily personal, so you can skip it if you want.

I’m a double Bird. My Bird primary system is heavily Badger influenced, and I also use Lion to support it by telling me when I should investigate something more closely. If we can dip into primary territory for a moment, I guess you can say I understand the world through systems that model things around me. But not all of those systems are things I’ve consciously examined, or fully investigated.

My understanding of how historical people dressed is pretty limited, for example, because I haven’t studied it in depth to get all the information—but I consciously understand what I do know about it. You could say this system piece is tiny but clear; I could expand it if I chose to find out more.

My understanding of how someone I’m not close to thinks might have more data to work with, but I haven’t consciously processed it; that’s the kind of thing where my Lion primary model will tell me to look closer if that person starts acting weird. This system piece might be described as huge but fuzzy; I could clarify it if I sat down and thought about it. I probably have more of these than I realize, but Lion basically takes care of monitoring those. I don’t have to investigate everything.

But some of my systems are both large and fairly clear, because I’ve taken the time both to gather data on them and to examine it. My understanding of myself is… well, I won’t say it’s terribly clear, because I’m in my early twenties and I’m still constantly getting new information, plus someone keeps changing the environment and mucking with my data (that would be me). But I have to examine it, because my brain is like a notoriously buggy piece of software and I’m the poor schmuck saddled with tech support duties.

Basically, the reason I’m good at playing therapist with other people is that I’m constantly doing exactly that thing with myself. (This probably makes me a very annoying patient for actual therapists.)

About that buggy brain, then.

I have major depression. That was professionally diagnosed when I was a teenager and it’s probably genetic. I take medication for it, when I remember to. It especially flares up in the winter or when I’m under stress. I probably have some kind of anxiety disorder too.

I’m almost certainly autistic, which I’ve never brought up with a professional—the first person to figure it out was the system I’m now best friends with, because they’re autistic and they knew I was within two weeks of talking to me. It took me two years to catch up with them and figure it out myself.

In my defense, I thought executive dysfunction, sensory overwhelm, dissociation, and hyperempathy were like… secret menu items for depression, because those only really bug me during depressive episodes. My current theory is that they’re related to autistic burnout instead.

I mask a lot, subconsciously—it’s actually really hard to turn that off normally—and I just can’t do that as much when depressed. If I do, my tolerance for everything else goes way down and I’ll go into overwhelm and start having shutdowns and dissociating. I recover pretty quickly (hours, not days), but if you’ve never spent 15 minutes standing in a Walmart aisle trying to decide whether you want a jar of peanut butter, but you can’t make decisions because you can’t access your emotions and you don’t really feel like you’re “here” but you kind of just want to go home… well, be glad I guess.

Of course, I have other autistic traits that show up when I’m not under stress, but they’re seldom associated with autism because most people don’t know what autis are like when we’re actually happy. Like, hyperlexia? That’s not even an “official” word, the auti community just uses it because “official” literature hasn’t caught up. I taught myself to read at age three (according to my mom; she says I was reading news headlines and stuff, not just books I’d memorized) and wrote a 35k word novella when I was ten, with no external prompting. My audio processing used to be terrible, but I routinely tested at college age reading levels as a kid.

I also might have ADHD? If so, it’s also mostly just noticeable if I’m under stress, and then it’s hard to tell if that’s the issue or if it’s just autism/depression again.

You might be getting a clearer picture of how my secondary and its model end up burnt so often!

(Resisting a very strong urge to cut stuff from this post.)

In short, I was a Gifted Kid. I spent a lot of my teen years biting off more than I could chew, honestly. I felt that I should be able to do more, and I wanted to be taken seriously, but I had basically no idea how to take care of myself because my needs are different from everyone else’s. I’m still figuring those out.

I’m kind of like an orchid plant: incredibly picky about conditions, wants a different “soil” and watering schedule, gets stressed if stuff changes too quickly, but when everything is just right and it does bloom, it goes all out.

I’m not kidding when I say that I have odd needs. One of them is the need for creative work, which seems to be hardwired into me. When I say that art or writing keeps me sane, I often hear back “oh yeah! I’ve heard that can be very therapeutic,” which is an innocuous reply, but it’s always bugged me, and I think I’ve figured out why.

First, because that’s not the reason I make things… I just… have to. Second, I can’t “make up” not doing creative work with some other kind of therapy. Third and most importantly, I’d much rather think of “artist” as my ground state, and depression as a condition that happens when my needs aren’t being met, rather than thinking of depression as the default that I’m just using art to escape from. That seems to me a healthier way of thinking, and probably a more accurate one, but I’m probably the only one who can see that distinction.

If life gets in the way and I can’t make space for creative work, it will actively make my depression worse. I know this because, multiple times, I’ve been unable to pinpoint why I’m feeling shitty, and then I go back to my easel or my writing or (ukulele, cooking, even just taking care of houseplants) and realize I haven’t done anything creative in like a month and thaaaat’s the problem.

I crack open a bottle of gesso to prep some canvases and it smells like… well, I don’t think you can get high off gesso? But it’s not like when you’re out of it on painkillers or cold medicine or whatever. It’s incredibly grounding, like the world snaps back into focus but it’s also oddly euphoric. Or I write ten thousand words in a couple days and it just… I don’t know what that does. I’ve never run across a word for it.

The writer of Smile at Strangers (a really good memoir centered around women, anxiety, and karate) describes a similar feeling in relation to her martial arts practice.

It’s also a bit like when all the snow melts after winter and you step outside and there’s the smell of wet soil under sunlight and I’m not sure if this fully translates for people who don’t have seasonal depression. Sorry.

Dammit, I want to paint… I haven’t had space to set up for like eight months. I’ve been nose-deep in writing projects since last summer for a reason, but right now my friggin Ravenclaw secondary is off angsting about something because of Life Stress Bullshit, and I don’t have the focus to work on any of my writing projects. Apart from this one. But it’s not really what I want in terms of creative work.

*velociraptor screech*

Oh, yeah. I guess I could mention this is why my nickname is Paint. Not sure if that was obvious before. The header image (which is more visible in the app for some reason) is one of my paintings. It’s a tiny one and it’s not one of my favorites, but I had the photo on my phone and the colors work well enough for what I needed.

(restrains self from negging my own painting ability)

This is starting to get into spoiler territory for what burned Ravenclaw secondary looks like, huh? It’s peaced out for a couple weeks at this point. I’m trying to write about what made it take off, but my ability to think of words and form a coherent sentence kinda flew out the window when I approached it directly.

Let’s just say that around the start of the month, someone I was talking to online (if you’re reading this, it’s definitely not you) kindaaaa hit a nasty depression trigger of mine. Not their fault—it’s very specific to me, and I struggle to explain why I can’t really talk about it. Basically, I spent years studying programming and web design, and due to several different but related issues during that experience, it’s now a trigger for me. I very much want it not to be, but trying to train that out of myself has induced more than one panic attack and I’m stuck between giving up on it or figuring out a way to go back to it that doesn’t totally shut my brain down.

That paragraph took forever to write, by the way.

I think I have to end this here. I… am going to go take out the trash, and water my plants, and make my bed, and file some paperwork, and maybe I’ll even mix up some bread dough or do some laundry. Spoiler alert for what it looks like when my Hufflepuff model takes over, I guess.

Oh. And I should maybe probably eat something. I almost forgot about that... again.