#topsy writes

[thana-topsy]

Here’s the full comic version of (a portion of) chapter 2 of my fic “As the Crow Flies” on AO3. I doubt I’ll fully draw out the entire chapter, but I’m really happy with how it all turned out!

If you like sad, morally gray, and incredibly horny bastards, you can read the fic here.

[thedeafprophet]

The Players Of The Last Game Of The Marvellous

So last summer I did a lineup drawing of The Light Fingers crew, so i thought it'd be fun to do another lineup this year.

This time i tackled the main characters from Heart's Desire, including my own PC in order to not have the poor monkey tiny on the ground next to everyone

[definitelynotshouting]

every day i continue to defy the laws of reasonable creativity by writing better when im so sleep deprived i can barely see

[thana-topsy]

Alright alright let me prove my point again... with an excerpt from my fic. Also featuring Nerevarine!Teldryn. Bonus trope: There was only one bed, and they shared it voluntarily:

Teldryn woke several hours later to every candle in the room still lit and Neloth slumped over in his chair. He blinked blearily, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. 

“Neloth.” 

No response. 

“Neloth,” Teldryn repeated, louder, pushing up onto an elbow. The mer startled awake with an undignified snort, looking about wildly in a small moment of panic. Teldryn laughed hoarsely. “Blow out the damn candles and go to bed.” 

“No, no. I just needed–”

“Go. To sleep.” Teldryn argued, tone sharp. He turned to face the opposite wall and pulled the covers up around his shoulders. Neloth huffed, and Teldryn heard him shuffling papers and closing books, then the room went dark as all the flickering candles went out at once. Teldryn let out a tremendous sigh of relief, the darkness washing over him like a cool breeze. Then he felt the covers shift and a weight join him on the bed.         

“Are you serious?” 

“What?” Neloth shuffled beneath the covers. “My room is all the way upstairs and I nearly froze half to death last night.” 

“You complained every single night we had to share a bed in Windhelm, and yet here you are...”

“It’s merely self-preservation.” 

Teldryn laughed in disbelief, but couldn’t say it was unpleasant to have a warm body pressed in beside him. The College was perpetually freezing, it was true, and, despite it all, he’d grown rather accustomed to sharing a bed. Still, something about the situation had Teldryn shaking with silent laughter for a minute longer.

“Stop laughing,” Neloth snapped. 

“I’m sorry,” Teldryn chuckled. “It’s just absurd. It’s fine,” he added as he felt Neloth shift irritably. “It’s just absurd.”

They drifted off into silence after that, and despite it all, Teldryn slowly faded back to sleep. 

Teldryn’s eyes snapped open as he felt someone gripping his shoulders and shaking him. He flailed in panic, accidentally smacking Neloth in the chin.

“Ah! You s’wit! Calm down, would you?” 

“What’s going on? Let go of m–” 

“You were thrashing about.” Neloth explained, releasing Teldryn’s shoulders and turning his back to him once again. “Mumbling nonsense. You woke me up. I assume you were having a nightmare.” 

Teldryn sat up, pushing his sweat-damp hair out of his face. His heart was racing, eyes wet at the corners, and he felt both incredibly embarrassed and oddly thankful that he wasn’t alone. Neloth said nothing, still facing away, too still to have gone back to sleep. Slowly, Teldryn laid back down, still shivering slightly – from the cold or the dream, he couldn’t tell. Without thinking much, he turned towards Neloth and looped an arm around the mer’s waist. 

“Oh no,” Neloth laughed dryly, pulling Teldryn’s wrist away from his stomach. “I am not going to be your cuddle pillow for the evening.” 

“Self-preservation,” Teldryn grumbled against the back of Neloth’s neck. “Besides… S’cold.” He jerked his wrist out of Neloth’s grip, pulling the mer tighter against him. The comfort of another body had an immediate soothing effect, barring the fact that said body belonged to Neloth. The heat and pressure were enough to calm him. He heard Neloth swallow. 

“If you try anything inappropriate, I swear on Boethia’s–” 

“Like you would be so lucky,” Teldryn chuckled sleepily, pressing his forehead against Neloth’s shoulder. He smelled like quill ink and static electricity; like old tomes and just a bit like Solstheim.

Neloth scoffed. “Overconfident...” He shifted, but didn’t pull away, and Teldryn soon found himself drifting back off into a blessedly dreamless sleep.

----

Teldryn stirred from sleep slowly, disoriented. The cool light of morning was just beginning to seep through the tall glass windows. His arm was still draped over Neloth’s waist, and the situation seemed suspended in a dream-like state, a pervasive sense of calm to it. He closed his eyes once again, content to doze for another hour, when he felt the slightest movement – a thumb tracing the ridges of his knuckles. Something in Teldryn’s chest clenched so tightly it was almost painful. The feeling lingered for a long moment, teetering between longing and terror mixed with an odd sense of privilege as he felt Neloth’s thumb make another slow, steady pass, the pad of his finger looping around the bulges of Teldryn’s knuckles ever so lightly. There was a quiet reverence to the small gesture that was startling. Regardless, Teldryn gave in and pressed closer with a sigh, finding Neloth’s fingers and giving them a light squeeze. 

Faster than Teldryn thought possible, Neloth sat bolt upright in bed, throwing back the covers and immediately springing to his feet. 

“Wha–?” 

Before Teldryn could even sit up Neloth had swept from the room in several long strides without a single word. Teldryn blinked at the doorway, unsure of what had just happened. He lay back down, feeling incredibly chilled at the lack of body heat beside him and equally confused. Had he overstepped? It was just a friendly gesture in return. Maybe he’d startled Neloth... He let his mind drift for a moment longer before sighing loudly and pushing back the covers, resigned to get up and face the day.

------

This is from my fic "Breathing Water" which was basically how I convinced myself that this ship was worth sailing in the first place.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Blog Event: TWST Year III Anniversary – Topsy Turvy Days

🎊 HAPPY YEAR 3 OF TWST!! 🎊

For the first anniversary, we had Magic Mystery Letters!

For the second anniversary, we had Twisted Tarot!

For the third anniversary, we have (drumroll please) Topsy Turvy Days!!

Like the previous years, this is a blog event and a self-imposed writing challenge I do around February/March to celebrate TWST JP’s launch date (March 18th 2020); I’m a little short on time this year, so there will only be 7 prompts total. Starting tomorrow, there will be something posted every day to count down to the 18th (JST)!

The second series of birthday cards, Union Birthday, asks each boy which dorm they would want to be sorted into if not their current one. I have taken their responses to this question and used them as prompts to write about how each boy would fare in their “new dorms for the day”; it focuses on the characters and how they adapt to their new environments and expectations placed on them in their choice of dorm.

***PLEASE NOTE: Topsy Turvy Days will follow the canon of the main story, as well as various vignettes (more specifically, the Union Birthday vignettes) and events. There WILL be spoilers for several of the characters’ backstories and other story events. Spoilers will be tagged as is appropriate.***

[echoes-lighthouse]

🏅🥮and🦴 for your Vampire Polycule?

*big gasp* Heck yeah thank you!!!! I've had to rewrite a couple scenes in my fanfiction because I'm not wanting to totally get into agere dynamics in that particular story but it's so on my mind for this group. (agere selfship asks)

🏅 - favourite activities to do together when regressed?

With Gabrielle, it's to explore! Especially ruins or abandoned places, but forests can also be fun. I want to run around and see things and poke them. She explains them, sometimes, but other times she just follows and supervises.

With Armand, we go through phases together. Right now we're watching Inside Out and then playing with a ball. We've done the same routine about a hundred and twenty times in the last year and eventually we'll choose a new one, but we're both enjoying it for now.

The others are mostly more like babysitters rather than caregivers but they're mostly nice to me. Lestat gets pouty if I'm getting too much attention and if it's just the two of us I usually have to be the big sibling. Daniel gets his wires crossed with me and Armand and our preferences, but he does his best to keep them straight. Louis just puts on a movie: he's never been interested in that part of me or Armand. Considering his baggage, I don't blame him.

🥮 - favourite food to eat while regressed? how do they get it for you?

Welllllll.... vampires, huh? I do love people who lean into the horror elements on agere iwtv fanfiction, blood in baby bottles and all of that business. But it's not my speed!

Unfortunately a lot of our group has hang-ups on my hunting style so I only really get to go out to hunt with Gabrielle or Daniel if I'm regressed. For Louis and Lestat it's about the bad memories, for Armand it's just a matter of not wanting to keep an eye on me out and about. And also it's not part of our routine. But I do like hunting when I'm little!! I just don't get to do it super often.

🦴 - has cg f/o gotten you any regression gear?

Yeah!! It's hard to tell who's gotten me what and also what belongs to who in the house, a little bit. All the regression stuff gets jumbled up after a few years. I think it's mostly Armand and Louis that buy it? All of my pacifiers are stolen from the others because they're more picky. Armand always keeps me stocked up on colouring books. The others don't like colouring books, so I know those are definitely just for me. Daniel does them sometimes but I don't think he's regressing I think he just likes to keep me company.

[b4kuch1n]

hi it's me. bulletpoints

job has concluded! barring sudden expansion on the project I think that's gonna be it for my work here. six character cards in total! this leads to

wrists are bit fucked. I'll be putting that thang (creen tablet) in da closet again for at least a month while trying to hold as few heavy objects as possible for the time being

why one month deadline? well it's bc I made an artfight account. I'm fucking doing it this year on god I'll kick anyone's ass I'll kick my own ass. I'll post a link to my acc a week or so before the event starts, meanwhile I'll keep updating my roster and cleaning up this cardboard box I arrived at their door in. do u guys have a spare pair of suspenders I have a really funny joke to make

will be doing it on the creen tablet, unless I make enough to get a new graphic tablet that works with SAI2 inbetween. on that note

ink comms should come back sometimes next week babeyy I need to get back into da groove! miss my G pen it feels like I was close to something last time. I wanna get back to it. but also

I'm writing a fic now. tis the season it seems this happened last year too. but I'll try my best to not disappear off the face of the earth for 3 months running again lol I'll do my best to pace myself, since this is gonna be one of the heftier writing things.

sk8 people and another very specific subset of people will be pleased to know it's a sk8 Real Steel AU. if this means nothing to u carry on. have a good day. to the five people still here I'll probably be brainposting abt writing this so don't be surprised if that comes up here and there

circling back a bit I'm currently 120 USD away from the graphic tablet I wanna get, so that'll be what the ink comms are going toward. otherwise if u enjoy my art and have a spare doller to buy the baku a coffee I'd absolutely appreciate ur support! not mandatory but I'll definitely be very thankful! especially bc

I'll probably phase out the redbubble store some time in the future. at the very least I'll probably stop uploading new things on there while looking for alternative. ohh baby they are doing some wild shit and I want off the ride please. please

but yeah. that's the current plan for things. I've accepted that comics happen when they want to, and I have faith they still want to see the sunlight some time this year. meanwhile we keep busy keep training keep recovering! thank u for ur patience. have a good night take this sharp object

[buginateacup]

I think the next chapter I'm supposed to draft is one where I have written either nothing of use or I have to write the whole thing from scratch

Naturally this is the worst and I am very grumpy about it

[codenamehazard]

.:Down the Rabbit Hole:.

Chapter 31: Down the Rabbit Hole

Hey guys!

Time to keep following Cole on this rigmarole of a rabbit chase and see what happens next now that he's in the big top that gives Tri-Point its name!

Without further ado, let's jump in!

--------

“Alright, you damned rabbit. This game’s gone on long enough!!”

I rip random shit out from their places as I search high and low for this antlered thorn in my side, not really caring what it is or who it might belong to. I don’t know what it’s trying to get at, but it’s only going to make things so much worse for it when I get my hands on it. “How do I see myself?” What kind of mind games is it trying to play; Especially with asking that while I was literally looking in a damn mirror? The answer is literally staring me in the face! I’m me! Always have been.

That damn question though… It circles in my head more than I’d like, fucking vultures riding a rising current of hot air. While yes, it is true that I haven’t physically changed much, but I have. God I hate to admit it, but so much has changed that I’m not even sure who I am anymore. Everything that made me the man I was is gone, torn asunder and ashes in the wind. Zeke’s been dead for what… Two, three years? Trish has been gone longer still. Empire City is crater, courtesy of John. Wouldn’t be surprised if it’s been deemed the US’s own Chernobyl or something.

Any ties I had to that old life is just… Gone. Save for whatever tiny scraps I managed to salvage… The life I had planned for, the life I wanted, will never come to be.

It’s not helped by the fact that I’ve been nothing more than either some kind of errand boy or a puppet on fucking strings ever since I was popped out of my mother. Any choice I made was either deemed incorrect, wrong or the choice was outright taken away! At this point, I’ve stopped trying.

Now I’m starting to understand the question and my answer is: “Does it fucking matter?”

My rampage in the big top continues on, leaving debris of knocked over furniture, confetti and dust in my wake when I think I see a plume of purple in my periphery. I turn my head to look, but see nothing, probably just glitter or some shit like that. However, I do spot another flash, another mirror. What a fucking coincidence.

I try to ignore it and focus on my task of finding that damn rabbit, but every time I see glimpses of my reflection, my curiosity grows… I eventually just say “fuck it” and walk over.

I make note of the mirror now that I’m actually looking at it. It’s one of those full, stand-up mirrors you find in those old as fuck mansions that are definitely not haunted. I know those ghost stories and while those kinds of things were more Zeke’s wheelhouse, with the “Killer Clown” vibes this place has going on? I’m not taking any chances… Especially with a circus full of Conduits.

I walk to the mirror, making sure I’m far enough away that should some fucking “Ringu” or “Grudge” thing be hiding in the mirror tries to grab me or some shit like that I can jump back out of reach, but close enough to see my full body in the reflective glass.

Damn… There’s a lot more change than I thought now that I look at myself fully.

My skin actually looks half-way healthy, slightly tanned from being cooked in the sun and bringing out the freckles that I had as a kid. The only hint of the pale, sickly grey that I’m used to seeing all over my body is focused on the scar that tracked across my chest like spider lightning through the clouds. First time in a long time I get to see that painful reminder.

I look at my clothes and it hammers home just how much I’ve changed, it’s honestly strange. I can see bits and pieces of someone new, yet it’s still my face, still my scars… I can almost feel my mind starting to struggle a bit. Trying to decide who this person in the mirror is even though I know it’s still me.

As I’m having a slight identity crisis, I hear something whisper in my ear. “How do you think others see you?”

A Punch Blast rips from my hands as I whirl around with a start, sending a popcorn machine and some heavy props flying in its wake. I scan the area, ready to fry the bastard that’s been toying with me ever since I stepped into this madhouse. I growl loudly as my frustration grows, seeing nothing. 

“Hey, fuzzy lil’ fucker!” I shout out, my accent starting to slip more than I’d like. “Stop fuckin’ aroun’ with me and face me!” 

All I get is crickets as I sweep the area, looking for hide or hair of the pain in my ass, but of fucking course, the rabbit is nowhere to be seen. I am getting so sick and tired of all of these games.

If I was a less stubborn man, I would have given up at this point and head back to the hospital to take a long-ass nap. Sadly, I am not a less stubborn man and I want that bunny made into a pair of leather gloves for all the grief it’s put me through.

What I didn’t know is that I’m in for one hell of a shock myself when I turn around and face the mirror again.

Staring back at me isn’t myself… It doesn’t even look human, it looks closer to a living storm, not a shred of humanity to be seen in its crimson eyes. It almost frightened me. Yet…. Somehow I knew that it’s still me.

It’s twisted and monstrous, even more so than how I am in my Beast form… Or is that not my Beast form and what I’m looking at is supposed to be what it’s actually supposed to look like? I remember John’s whole shtick was being a giant magma golem of a monster and I could never figure out how to get that.

I growl and shake my head before dismissing the reflection and walking away, remembering the question and guessing that’s what the mirror was showing; how others saw me.That I couldn’t give less of a rat’s ass about. Not surprising in the least that people saw me less as an actual person and more of a monster or a force of nature, something soulless and without care. It’s honestly nothing new to me.

I’ve been a reject of society ever since I knew what that was. Always casted aside: mocked, shunned and scapegoated in some way, shape or form. So how is this any different? Always a fuck-up, so fucking what? It’s a non-issue at this point. They can think however they want, as long as those dumb shits stay the hell out of my way, then there will be no issues.

My search for Bugs Bunny’s horned cousin continues when I think I see something else furry, a fluffy looking tabby cat sitting on a chest. Not what I’m looking for, but okay.

Though as I look at it, I can’t tell if it’s the color of my lightning or what, but I swear this cat was an odd color… Almost blending in with the hue my sparks bathed the area in, but it was definitely an unnatural color for a cat, pink? Purple? I couldn’t tell, nor did I care.

I try to get close so I can get a better look at the feline, but as I did, the cat turns to purple smoke and flits away. Are you fucking kidding me?!? First a white rabbit who can teleport, now a purple-y cat that can turn to smoke, what’s next? Am I gonna stumble across a giant ass caterpillar smoking from a hookah or something?!? I watch the wisp dart around, the sight feeling familiar for some odd reason.

I don’t have much time to ponder that before it dashes off, prompting me to go after it.

“Maybe this fucker will lead me its little bunny friend.” I think to myself before following it through the big top and find it went through a door. I narrow my eyes in suspicion, this reeks of a trap, yet something keeps telling me to push forward. Is it my curiosity? My stubbornness? Or is it me thinking that I’ve made it this far in, might as well how deep this goes?

Doesn’t matter which it is as I follow the smoke inside.

Through the door, I am damn near blinded by the amount of light my dark-adjusted eyes were subjected to, forcing me to cover them until they had readjusted. I remove my hands and my jaw falls open at the sight I see.

That cat lead me into a fucking mirror maze.

“What’s with all the goddamn mirrors?!” I growl out loud as I look around, seeing myself at damn near every conceivable angle. The scowl on my face deepens the more I see my reflections, I already don’t like seeing myself, let alone being stuck in a room that’s nothing but myself. It infuriates me to no end. It’s almost dizzying and disorienting with everything reflecting everything else. I start to step back, I’m getting in over my head. I need to get out so I can regroup and…

A voice stops my thoughts dead in its tracks as an all too familiar voice hisses in my ear, full of venom and cruelty.

“Do you want to see who you really are?”

The door behind me slams shut with a deafening “BANG” as I try to get out. There was nothing to grab hold of and no way to force it open, it’s flushed with the wall. I’m stuck in here and that damned voice laughs at my struggle and plight. I fire off an Alpha Blast to blow the door open, but it bounces off the reflection and damn near hits me in the process. I can feel my heart start to race as the fact sinks in more and more. I’m trapped in this damned maze.

I slowly turn around, knowing what I have to do, but what I see behind me… My eyes widen as I can feel the color drain from my face, my blood runs cold as I face what is my worst fear made manifest.

“No…”

[thana-topsy]

WIP Wednesday - Baldur's Gate Edition

I haven't shared a wip in god knows how long, and even though I've been working on my other fics in the background, I was bitten with the Bloodweave Bug and have been indulging myself a little bit here and there. So if it's your thing, have some... well. Have whatever this is shaping into:

[Context - Gale and Astarion attempt to get frisky after relentlessly flirting for two acts. NSFW warning: sexy and not-so-sexy postulating, but nothing too graphic. CW: descriptions of dissociation.]

--

“You really are a gorgeous creature,” Gale said, running his hand back down Astarion’s chest, across his stomach. “But I’m sure you already know that.” 

“Never hurts to hear it again. And again.” He arched into Gale’s touch. “So, do go on.” 

Gale finally tugged the shirt up and over Astarion’s head, tossing it to the floor before bending low to speak into his ear. “You’re gorgeous.”

“I know,” Astarion replied with a sigh as Gale placed kiss after kiss along his jawline before capturing his lips once more. 

Their pants remained on and were becoming increasingly more uncomfortable. Gale licked his way between Astarion’s lips, sucking and nipping. For all his enthusiasm and verve, it was, unfortunately, a rather predictable escalation. Gale groaned into his mouth and Astarion felt himself begin to detach, eyes half-open, gaze drifting unfocused to the upper left hand side of the ceiling.  

He wondered what kind of fuck Gale preferred. He seemed like the type to want to get Astarion off first before fucking him raw—the type to pride himself on getting his lover to cum before using their spent body for his own pleasure. Astarion knew the type. And there was something so incredibly wretched about having to pantomime pleasure for an unwanted orgasm–

“You still with me, ‘starion?” 

“Hmm?” Astarion jerked his gaze from the ceiling to focus on Gale’s face. He couldn’t actually recall when they’d stopped kissing. “Sorry, I was just…” He paused, momentarily at a loss, then affected his best flirtatious smile, brow furrowing coyly. “I was just thinking of all the filthy things I want you to do to me.” 

Gale sat back on his heels from where he knelt between Astarion’s legs, brow drawn. “Right… Listen, if you’d rather not–” 

“Don’t be ridiculous, darling.” Astarion reached down and curled his fingers around the hem of Gale’s trousers. “Of course I want…” His gaze went unfocused once more, staring past the cut of Gale’s hip at the shimmer of the arcane lock on the door. “I want…” Whatever he’d intended to say, the words refused to surface, and his resolve was withering on the vine.  

Gale slid his hands beneath Astarion’s, gently uncurling his fingers. “As I said, I consider myself to be an agreeable lover, which means recognizing when I’m not wanted.” 

“But I want–” Astarion’s throat seized as the panic set in. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. “I want you,” he finally managed to squeeze out. “I just don’t… I don’t want…” As his desire, his true desire, solidified, it felt so ridiculous that he wasn’t sure if he could utter it aloud. 

“What don’t you want?” 

“I don’t want to be touched. Like… that.” He covered his face with his hands and groaned. “Hells below. I’ve had sex more times than probably half of Baldur’s Gate combined. You’d think I’d be a little more articulate on the matter.” He sighed, letting his hands fall to rest against Gale’s knees. “But rarely did I want it, and even more rarely did I enjoy it. Now that I’m—well, now that I’m not compelled, I just…” He let out another heaving sigh, eyes trained on the ceiling, on the far corner, the window, the crack in the wall. Anywhere but on Gale. “I don’t know if I remember how it should be. How to… enjoy it.”

Gale made a noise of understanding, shifting to extricate himself from between Astarion’s legs. “Well,” he said, grunting with exertion as he lay down next to him on the bed. “It would be neither the first nor the last time I’ve had these kinds of activities halted abruptly. And, to be clear, I’d rather they be halted than to have you carry on as if I’m some…” He made a swirling gesture at the ceiling, as though attempting to conjure the word, but left the silence unfilled.

“It’s pathetic,” Astarion said. Hatred and misery roiled in his gut. “He ruined me.”

“He didn’t,” Gale assured, as if it were that simple a claim to dismiss. “Give it time.” He reached down between his own legs and palmed himself through his pants with a groan. “Besides, I’ve more than enough practice with my own hand to find satisfaction if I need it.”

Astarion felt something stir in his loins, something that overrode the simmering bitterness. He turned onto his side, propping his head against one palm. “What if… What if I watched you?”

Gale looked at him with a raised brow, still cupping himself. “Watched me have a wank?” 

“I was thinking of it more in terms of ‘pleasuring yourself’, but sure. Be crude. Have a wank.”

“A titillating proposition,” Gale said with a breathy laugh, tipping his head back with a hiss as he squeezed himself. “Why not?”

[eachmostremembering]

I think s2 is a really beautiful and overall quite good expansion and deepening of the themes and arcs of season 1! however, as for my dumb little romantic heart feelings, there is just nothing like the way carmy looked at sydney when she first showed up at the restaurant and looked again. straining the stock after she tells him her history. her eyes watching him as he tries her food. him looking through her notebook. family style? two tops, booths.

[lemonmatronics]

I love designing clowns…

[thedeafprophet]

Yea i love all the Heart's Desire characters - The Manager, Virginia, The Monkey * looks at smuged writing on my hand * uh mr paper, the rook, and the tispy guy over there

[shouldyouwakethewriteblr]

This dialog 💔🥰

[wooahaes]

daisy !! hi hey how r u :0 && aagh i’m alr so excited for topsy turvy !! i can’t wait to read abt the reader navigating being in svt && the bonds w the members :D

hiii aya <3 i'm doing okay! i hope you're also doing well and having a nice holiday season <3

eee ty!! honestly w the way the polls are going i feel like the svt fic is definitely gonna be interesting lmao. i think y'all can see votes but the current two front-runners are like... honestly the interesting picks lol

(the skz version i think will also be interesting to write, but for different reasons lmao)

[thebibliosphere]

Speaking of therapy, I say, as though we're old friends, and you're not a stranger trapped in this metaphorical elevator with me and you can hear the suspension wires starting to fray.

I've been doing a lot of work recently that's focused on imposter syndrome and the feeling that no matter how well or how much I do, I'm not good enough. That I'm somehow tricking everyone into thinking my work is actually good.

Some days it's a minor niggle in my head that I can gentle and soothe with logic and affirmations. Or smother, depending on the mood. Other times it's loud and all-consuming and the mental anguish it causes me is so real I can feel it twitching in my muscles. This desperate fight-or-flight instinct with nowhere to go and nothing to fight but myself.

Anyway, because I'm several types of Mentally Unwell™, I was switching between workshop sheets ahead of next week. Filling in different forms. (Trying to get a good grade in therapy) And I got my "recognize your harmful ADHD coping mechanisms" worksheet mixed in with the "you're not actually lying to people, you just feel like you are because your brain is full of weasels" worksheet, and seeing them side by side made something go topsy turvy in my head, and I just had to sit and breathe for a couple of minutes until the urge to scream passed. Because it clicked, it all suddenly clicked.

The reason the imposter syndrome workshops and therapy sessions aren't sticking was because I do routinely trick people into thinking I'm someone I'm not.

Because I'm masking my ADHD for their convenience.

I've always known there was something wrong with me. My neurotypical peers made it abundantly clear I didn't fit in or was failing in some way I couldn't see nor remedy, no matter how hard I tried.

So I compressed myself into a workaholic box of hyper-competence in the hopes they'd stop noticing the flaws and exploit like me instead. And then subsequently lived with the daily fear that if they looked too close, they'd realize I'm a monumental fuck up with enough personal baggage to block the Suez Canal.

If you ever need someone to burn themselves to ashes for your comfort and convenience, I'm your gal.

Or I used to. Until I had a bit of a breakdown, and the rubber band holding my brain together snapped and pinged off into the stratosphere, never to be seen again.

Unfortunately, the trauma of living like that didn't also fuck off and instead left a gaping maw where my personality ought to be, so now I get to deal with that aftermath.

And it's that aftermath that's affecting the imposter syndrome shit. Because yes, I am hyper-competent and good at what I do-- but it doesn't feel real because that is how I mask.

And the truly frustrating thing is I am good at what I do. I am not pretending. I worked hard to be good at this. It just feels like I'm dicking around because 90% of my personality turns out to be trauma masquerading as humor in a trenchcoat, and having people genuinely like something weird I'm doing is so foreign my brain has decided it's just another form of masking.

I'm pretending to be a good author so people will think I'm a good author, and my brain thinks we are in Danger of being found out. We are in Danger, and writing is Dangerous because then people will know I'm Weird and not whatever palatable version I've presented myself as for their NT sensibilities.

Like the neurotic vampire with a raging praise kink wasn't an obvious giveaway.

Anyway. I got nothing else. Thanks for listening.

I'm going to go be very normal in another room and not stare into the abyss of my own soul for a bit.