#no better way to describe this level of acceptance and self confidence

[mossyclaws]

i really do think the best way i can describe how i’ve been feeling since connecting with aphrodite is that every time i get upset about something i think “wait… i’m goated” and then it’s actually fine

[blakeswritingimagines]

Their views on you

Batman: You are his soulmate, his reason for living, the person he wants to be with forever. He never wants to lose you and he can't imagine life without you. You are his heart and you mean more to him than anything or anyone else. He's so grateful that he has you in his life and he'll never take you for granted. He's so lucky to have found you and he cherishes every moment you share together.

Superman: He views his partner as his equal. You are his best friend, supporter, and source of guidance. You are someone he can count on in his darkest moments and someone he can be vulnerable with when he doesn't feel at his best. He admires your ability to always see the good in people and your kindness towards others.

Aquaman: You are his ray of sunshine, his rock on the rainy days. You bring balance to his life and are always there for him, no matter what. He loves the way you make him feel and it's something words can't quite capture. You know his heart and his soul and bring out the best in him.

Wonder Woman: Her partner is her world. You are her light and her darkness. You are what makes her world go round. She would be lost without you, you are her better half. Her strength. You fill her up where she is empty and you make the world a happier place.

Shazam: His significant other is his best friend. You share the same sense of humor, and your romantic relationship is one of open communication and acceptance. Your love grows stronger every day, and you both constantly strive to make each other feel loved and appreciated. He feels very blessed to have such an incredible partner in his life.

Flash: He values his partner's company, appreciates your kindness and empathy, and feels grateful for the opportunity to grow together and to become better versions of yourselves. In a word, he describes his partner as "my person"- someone with whom he connects on a deeper level than anyone else, someone who makes him feel loved and appreciated, and someone for whom he would do anything in the world.

Nightwing: Dick views his romantic partner as a constant source of comfort and companionship in a harsh world. He views you as a confidant who will always be there to support him and cheer him on, no matter what challenges arise. You are the one person who knows him best and understands him most, and he can always count on you to be there for him when he needs you the most. He feels safe and loved around his partner and he is grateful to have found you. He looks forward to growing and building a future with you, sharing his life in all its wonderful and difficult moments.

Red Hood: He views you as the main one to have his back. You're his rock, his shoulder to cry on, and someone who will be there for him no matter what. He knows he can trust and rely on you, and that you bring a sense of security to his life. The one he can be himself around without any judgments or repercussions. He loves you more than anything else in the world and would do anything for you, knowing You'd do the same in return.

Red Robin: You are his strength, a source of stability and support that never fails to help him through rough times. You are there to encourage him, give him advice, and guide him toward making the right decisions. Your positive attitude helps him stay strong. In addition, you are a source of motivation, helping him to work hard toward his goals. You make him want to strive to be at his best. And, when he's feeling low, your words of encouragement lift him up. You make him feel loved and valued.

Robin: His partner is his soulmate. You are the one person who understands him and loves him for all his quirks and faults. You are the one who accepts him as a whole, even the dark parts of himself. He'd say you are his safe place, where he can be his true and authentic self and know you fully accept him. He feels like you are two halves of one person, and it's a true love that's unlike anything he's ever experienced.

Batgirl: You are a special person in her life who she cares about deeply. In one word, you are her home. You are someone who knows her on a profound level and whom she can trust and depend on. In more detail, she sees you as a companion who has her back, who can be both a lover and a friend, and who is a partner in life. You are someone she can see herself spending the rest of her life with and growing old together, experiencing all the important milestones and moments in life together.

Superboy: Kent sees his romantic partner as someone who knows the importance of a life beyond mere existence. He loves you, but he also loves that you share a commitment to finding and embracing your own passions in life, and he sees you as someone to learn from and support, with whom he can connect deeply and meaningfully.

[coweye]

Commitment Issues - Part 9

Pairing: Benjamin Miller x Reader Words: 5.0K Summary: When you try and take your friends with benefits relationship to the next level, Benny’s response isn’t quite what you were expecting.

Warnings: Finally there's warnings again! Slight Angst, NSFW - respect the 18+ pls, cuteness.

So, this fic has always been close to my heart. 

I wrote this two years ago about a guy I was seeing but wanted more from. (Full disclosure, he’s no Benny Miller and luckily I didn’t have his baby.) It was a way of daydreaming the way my life could’ve gone. I never could’ve imagined you guys would embrace it the way you have and it honestly warms my heart so much that there are people out here waiting for an update. I’m so sorry to have kept you waiting.

A few months ago (the not-Benny) actually asked me if I wanted to be his girlfriend. Spoiler alert - he’s really not boyfriend material. So, much as I suspected, it didn't work out, because men aren’t written by women in real life. I’m not surprised or sad, I’m happy I know for sure but it  feels like I’ve come full circle and I think it's time I give our girl the ending I didn’t get. 

I love you all so much and words can describe how much I appreciate your support.

➢fic masterpost

PREVIOUS PART

Life in the past 48 hours had been… surreal. 

You had confessed your love for your baby daddy and then found out that he reciprocated those feelings all before doing the equivalent of pushing a grape out of your nostril.

A baby.

A gorgeous baby girl. 

Gorgeous didn’t quite cover it, yet finding a word that described the transcendent beauty of the soul you’d brought forth into this world escaped you, as did a name for the said beauty. 

For the time being the angel made human was currently known as TBD or more affectionately Tee. The two of you had been trying out names but a new baby and totally requited feelings didn't automatically cancel out a life-time of bickering. 

Your problem was there wasn’t a name you’d heard that actually sounded like her and Ben, god love him, had a habit of picking names from a nursing homes register; Ethel, Millicent, Edith - I could go on.

He liked old fashioned names, which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, though it didn’t lend itself to easy compromise. 

So, Tee, she remained with test names thrown in sporadically with hopes that a winner would stick, ideally before her 18th Birthday.  

Whilst the name vetoing annoyed the hell out of you there wasn’t any real friction. The name discussion never became heated, if a name was vetoed you moved on to the next accepting the decision of the other person. 

It was a healthy co-parenting dream. 

Despite the pending conversation that loomed over you both, things weren’t awkward - quite simply because you didn’t have the time for it to be!

Mia (Nah) didn’t leave you much time for it. 

Whilst she was a dream for sleeping, the time afforded to you both was spent sleeping or preparing the house for her awakening. She was beautiful, but exhausting - a lot like her father.

So it only made sense that when you got your first minute of peace,  after a long nap, now in your own bed and fresh pajamas; that the innermost workings of your heart would come to the surface. 

To the backing track of Modern Family, you planned and plotted your conversation word for word. Time allowed for dramatic pauses and longing gazes were of course included. When you began planning his lines you realized enough was enough and rose from your bed. 

Sure, after looking in the mirror, you’d had better days for your self confidence - ones where you weren’t rocking an adult nappy. But beggars couldn't be choosers and if you let it run in circles anymore you were afraid your brain would just combust.

There was a huge part of you that was excited after all this was years in the making, but then that small, human part of you was screaming at you to temper your expectations. 

How often does someone get everything they want? When did your life become a fairy tale? 

You didn’t think Benny would flat out turn you down, but what if he couldn’t live up to what had been in your head. 

For the first time, in a long time, you decided to ignore your brain - self preservation be damned. 

With a turn on your heel in a matching silk pajama set and a goddamn adult nappy you proudly began your descent down the stairs. 

Nothing could’ve prepared you for when you rounded the corner. 

There on the sofa he lay, utterly shirtless. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d seen him like this, in fact you’d actively avoided his fights after you had ‘broken up’ for this very reason because one look at those rippling shoulders would’ve tanked any remaining resolve or feminism left in your body. 

It would also be remiss to add that your daughter lay on his chest for what you assume was skin-to-skin time. Somehow, it both melted your heart and stoked a fire within you - having a child was strange. Since when was being a good Father a kink for you? 

“Pssst.” You whispered under your breath, trying to get his attention without waking the bean. It took another two tries before he finally looked up confused and then fixed you with that beaming smile.

“Well… good mornin’, Mama.” His voice was deep from lack of use and he looked utterly exhausted yet his smile was as big as ever.

You couldn’t help your own grin at his words as you pressed your attack and kneeled at his side. For a moment your hand stroked at the valley of her spine, before your palm came to rest on his bare shoulder.

How the hell could two people so clueless make something so absolutely perfect?

After a moment or two spent lost in pure adoration you lifted your gaze to Ben. His eyes hadn’t left your face since he became aware of your presence. 

You couldn’t help it.

Now was the time for words not for actions that had made this hole you were currently buried in, and yet …

You let yourself get lost in those eyes and pressed your lips against his. 

It was soft. 

Softer than anything the two of you had ever known. 

Neither one of you pushed for more, you simply indulged in the closeness that had been hard won to come so easily. The hand not cradling your daughter to his chest, rose to hug your cheek as you parted. 

“Where did that come from?”

“I’ve been meaning to do it since the hospital, but the nap helped me put my ducks in a row, I guess.”

Benny rose into a sitting position, slowly, mindful of the sleeping infant on his chest. 

He laid her in the moses basket at the foot of the sofa and pressed the white noise machine. Mozart began playing softly, lulling her into a deeper sleep.

Finally, Benny turned back to you, his eyes serious. “I wasn’t sure if you regretted saying what you did… if it was the heat of the moment… y’know the fear.”

You contemplated for a single moment.

“I meant every word.”

The problem with you and Benn had always been that you both approached your relationship with one foot out the door, whoever cared the least won. It was the way you both protected yourself.

It was only now you were realizing the commitment issues had gone both ways, for a time at least. It was easier if you played with no skin in the game, there was nothing to lose. But now, you had everything to lose and you didn’t want to waste a single moment playing the stupid games you’d wasted so many years of your life devoted to.

“Every word?”

“Every. Single. One. Especially the ones about your lame singing.” You couldn’t help your grin that snuck out as you teased him. 

“Lame? I’m sorry it's that gruff, sexy singing that made your ass love me.”

“God. I wish I could take it all back, but I do Benny, I fucking love you.”

All through your back and forth he’d been advancing. It was as if your words prompted him to pounce. His hands were planted on your cheeks, as he gave you a part of himself in an all consuming kiss. 

It was like he was trying to explain all his feelings, all the hurt and frustration and love he’d felt in one kiss.

As his tongue brushed yours and his hands trailed the sides of your body to pull you against him, your hands found his shoulders as you attempted to pull him closer, as if that was even possible. 

The two of you had been at war for so long, so afraid to give eachother any part of yourself. The air was thick with emotion, your hormones were all over the place as tears began to leak from your eyes. 

Relief, joy, love - you couldn’t name one emotion entirely but it was some combination of the three. With your kisses you promised to start anew, to fix what was broken and forget all the hurt you had caused one another.  

You were going to do your best for her, for your Joy.

Unable to stop yourself, you grabbed at the waistband of his sweats, finding the warm skin of his toned stomach. That seemed to bring him back to reality as he grabbed your hands and placed his forehead against yours, breathing heavily through his nose in what you assumed was an attempt to gather his self control. 

“Angel, you’re gonna start something you can’t finish, by my reckon… for at least 6 weeks.” 

“Let me take care of you.” You breathed, dropping your kisses lower to his neck. 

 “No, baby. We’re doing this right. I’m not gonna cum in your mouth and then leave you to carry on with your day aching in both ways - at least not till you can return the favor in mine.” He kissed your forehead chastely, as if he hadn’t just promised to eat you out the second your pussy was healed. 

“Benny.” You whined.

“I don’t care Y/N. We’re doing this right, I’ve fucked this up too many times.”

“I guess 6 weeks isn’t too long… right?”

WRONG.

FOUR WEEKS-ish LATER

No closer to a name. - LIST OF REJECTED NAMES : Charlie, Charlotte, Catherine, Joy, Ruth, Charlotte, Courtney, Jennifer, Rosamund, Rosalie, Rosemary, Roselyn, Rosalind, Rose, Bella. 

5 ADULT Diapers.

64 BABY Diapers.

57 Bottles of Formula.

32 Days of Blue balls.

The newest development since the clearing of the air was that Benny had proposed dates. 

For the first time since reproducing you got dressed up (in jeans and sweater) and went and got tacos and it was… nice. 

It was just like the old days back when you were just friends, only now there was a baby at the table and he’d proudly hold your hand. 

Though, it was still Benny. So he constantly teetered on the edge of gentlemanly courtship as he caressed the meat of your thigh as the two of you sat closely in the booth; and you loved it. 

You had been on about five PG13 dates since and life was kinda perfect, your daughter was beautiful and whilst picking a name was a struggle, it was coming along. 

So it was fitting that your perfect life shattered around you on a random Saturday morning.

“Sure Jaz, I’ll meet you at 11…. Okay, see you soon.” You heard from the man currently cradling your daughter in his arms as he gave her a bottle.

God, you wished you had more faith in your shiny new relationship, that you didn’t immediately jump to anger. 

Alas, rage was an old ally and you leapt into his eagerly awaiting arms. 

Every single doubt and unfair suspicion raised to your tongue as he turned to face you. He fixed you with an easy smile, clearly none-the wiser about the eye of the storm he was currently wandering into.

“Ben... I’ve gotta’ ask. It's been weighing on me for months… but who the fuck is Jaz?”

He blanched, his eyes looking down to your daughter as if she at 4 weeks old was capable of critical thinking. It clearly wasn’t what he was expecting when it left your mouth. He looked… somewhere between embarrassed and guilty.

It was then your eye caught the bottles that hadn’t been rinsed. They were abandoned on the marble, left to sour. That all but sealed his fate.

Sure, if you weren’t actively plotting his and his secret girlfriend's demise, you may not have overreacted. But in that solitary, ugly moment, that basic lack of regard he held for you and your relationship was encapsulated by his inability to complete the singular god forsaken chore that was his. 

The guy didn’t have a chance to respond before you were at the sink filling the washing up bowl with foamy water. The aroma of sour milk as you unscrewed the bottle lids only served to stoke your fires as you all but threw the stinking bottles in the water, splashing yourself with suds as you did.

“Do I have to do everything?!” 

“Y/N…”

“Sometimes, Ben…” 

“What the fuck - can we just rewind or can you explain what exactly it is you think i’ve done?!” He is incredulous as he places your daughter in her soothing swing chair, his arms now raising in surrender. 

“You need me to explain?” You huff, stoney in disbelief at his gall. 

“For god sake Y/N… leave them, I’m gonna get to them after this one.”

“Yeah, well. I’ve learnt not to believe you when you say things and do the complete opposite…”

“Do the complete opposite?” You heard clear as day the anger building in his voice. “If you wanna say something, then fucking say it!”

“FINE! I’ll say it! “ You slammed the last bottle in the bowl and turned round, wiping your hands on a tea towel as you fixed your gaze on him. “I thought you were happy taking it slow, I thought you wanted to be with me. But no, Jaz. AGAIN..”

He let out a light laugh, one that held no humor. “Christ sakes, Y/N - Jaz is a client! - I’m a fuckin’ personal trainer!”

“SHE’S- Oh-”

“Yeah - Oh.” His arms were crossed across his chest and his eyes had hardened.

“I - I’m sorry. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“To go from a soldier, to a fighter, to a glorified crossfit instructor …  just a little humiliating, Y/N.” His voice was flat and dejected as he spoke. 

At that moment, you were utterly ashamed.

“Ben… I am so -”

“Yeah. You’re sorry. But that's the thing, no matter how much I apologize or tell you how I feel about you, it's never enough. Y/N why are we even bothering when you clearly still don’t trust me.”

“Ben, I-”

“No, Y/N. It's not fair. I’ve been a good Dad and to be completely honest I’ve been a pretty stellar boyfriend, and yet all I get from you is fuckin’ accusations!” 

You hadn’t seen Benny this angry outside of the of the ring in a long fucking time. Yet you weren’t afraid of him as he came to stand before you, you knew Ben.  

“I can’t do this. Not if you’re gonna hold on to every doubt you have about me and whip them out every time I do something to piss you off, I’m not perfect Y/N.”

“I’m trying… Ben it’s not-”

“No. Listen, I told you. I told you how hard this was for me.” He stood before you, his shoulders sagged in defeat as his eyes shone with unshed tears. “I fucking poured my heart out to you, baby. I only want you and if you can’t trust that, then this isn’t going to work out and we need to stop and just be parents, because I’m not gonna live my life like this - instantly guilty for whatever shit your head dreams up for me.” 

He picked up his cap from the dining room table and bent down to place a kiss on your sleeping daughter's forehead before he swiped his hair back from his face and placed the cap on top.  Your fingers were aching from the grip you had on the counter.

“Well, I'm going to have some adulterous sex with my side piece Jasmine. Then I might swing by Flanagan’s on my way home for a threesome with an old flame. Who knows might make it a goddamn foursome!” Benny strolled out, he didn’t slam a single door. Always conscientious of the baby.

Goddamn you felt like shit.

It was hard to admit that you were wrong. 

All joking aside, you weren’t used to it. You never went into battle half cocked, which meant all arguments were mentally vetted before you championed a cause. But no matter how you sliced it, this time you were unequivocally wrong.

You had come at him with such anger. God, you should’ve just calmly asked him who Jasmine was. Why did you automatically assume the worst?

Shoulda, Woulda, Coulda - Didn’t do any good now.

Simply put, you had been a dick, to a man who had been nothing short of amazing to you. 

It was as you stood frozen leaning against the counter top that you began to realize you’d never fully forgiven Ben for what happened a year ago. The toll that had taken on your self worth and your confidence.

It wasn’t his fault, not really. You had promised yourself when starting this back up you’d forgive everything from the past, but you supposed that was hard when he’d never really apologized. 

That was petty, you reasoned.  

You knew he was sorry. 

The two of you had jumped straight back into dating, deciding to try and have the perfect love without the deep connection which came from talking through the nitty gritty. 

How could you be so surprised when it bubbled up in these ugly ways?

Deciding to resolve these difficult thoughts with Benny when or if he returned, eased the ache within yourself a tiny bit.   

Placing the baby monitor beside your sleeping daughter you decided to prepare yourself for that conversation. 

You made it through one life affirming shower and half of your skincare routine before her wails demanded your presence. 

“Mommy’s coming baby.” You spoke through the monitor using it as a walkie talkie. It was hard not to flash back to your service days as you used it. You were half way down the stairs reminiscing on the good ole days when you weren’t a complete asshole, when you heard a male voice whispering to Tee on the monitor. 

It was instinctual; you didn’t even think, you just moved, taking the stairs two at a time, stopping only to grab a weapon or, as it is more commonly known as, a broom.  

“GET AWAY FROM HER ASSHOLE.” You wielded the broom like a hockey stick ready to swing on the assailant. As you rounded the corner and were stupefied to find Benny there with your daughter, his eyes wide as you entered the room ready to assault him.

“Y/N?!”

“BENNY. OH MY CHRIST. I thought - “ In a single moment you instantly drop the broom and grab your baby from his arms, planting kisses all over her face and head. 

“Oh my god, you scared mommy, Tee. Yes you did. My heart, oh fucking christ. I didn’t expect you back.”

“What can I say - I didn't fancy the orgy today.”

“Daddy’s very funny, Sienna.”

“Sienna… Sienna Miller?” Benny narrows his eyes over the top of his Starbucks takeout cup.  

“Veto.” You both say in unison despite your argument. 

Tee whined in your arms, amping up for a wail.

“She didn’t finish her bottle before she fell asleep earlier.” Ben pointed out to the half empty bottle waiting to be washed up. Your stomach dropped at the mere sight of the cause of your hissy fit earlier.

“Are you hungry, beautiful girl?” You crooned to your baby after a pause. Adjusting the robe you had thrown on after your shower. “I’ll feed her and then we can talk?”

He nodded, his face giving nothing away. It was strange to be stonewalled by Ben. Usually every thought that crossed his mind was mirrored on his face. 

Taking a seat in the love chair you’d set up in the lounge for this exact purpose you exposed your breast. You had been doing a half breast half formula feeding pattern so that Ben could pitch in.

She latched on quickly, but never as quickly as she did the bottle. A tiny part of you was disappointed, as you’d always had images of breastfeeding your child. But with a low milk supply you’d had little option but to supplement with bottles, but beyond the bonding aspect you had no qualms with the bottle.

Tee was slowly falling asleep as she drank and after about five minutes she was gone to the world. 

Feeling guilty all while, you held her to your chest after rearranging your robe. You should be speaking to Benny about your regrettable words earlier and yet you couldn’t force your legs to move. Telling someone you had been a complete dick wasn’t a fun thing to do.

So it made sense after about ten minutes of hiding that Benny appeared with the moses basket in toe for your sleeping angel. 

You nodded thankfully and silently you handed her off to him, making sure that your entire chest was covered. 

He placed her in the far corner of the room, far enough away that your voices - if they were kept below a shout - wouldn’t wake her.

He took a seat to your right, there was about a meter between you. It was all so stiff, like a business meeting as you each waited for the other to speak. 

“So.” He muttered avoiding eye contact.

“I’ll start. I’m sorry Ben. You didn’t deserve that.” His eyes rose to meet yours. “I want this to work. I meant it, I want to leave it all behind and I thought I could - just forget everything, I mean. But I can’t. I think, well, I think we need to talk about it.”

“Y/N-”

“No, Ben, please. I’ve thought about this for like twenty minutes in the shower.” You left your seat to sit beside him. “I know you don’t like… feelings. I don’t either, it's awkward. But, I need to get through this to get over it, y’know?” 

“I think I do.” He nodded.  You took his hand in yours. 

“I’m not making excuses, I’m sorry I lost my shit this morning. I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. When I heard her name, I was right back there. Pregnant and alone and just completely unsure about everything; in love with a guy who I didn’t think felt the same. It was terrifying … And I’ve never told you that. It messed with my head everything that happened last year.”

“Right back where?... When you heard her name?”

“At the baby shower.”

“Oh Y/N, you should've asked!”

“Why? We weren’t together.”

“I started as a PT about a month after Christmas. After I found out and the hospital - It's a hell of a lot safer and the pay’s more steady. I’m still training with Will but the fights are gonna’ be … fewer. I wanna be around.” His hand clutched in yours tightened his thumb on your fingers forcing you to look up.

“You’re such a good Dad. I’m so sorry if I made you feel like you weren’t” Your hand rose to his face. 

“I am so sorry. I haven’t said it have I? But I am. That night you told me you wanted more and I shut you down, I broke your heart. I don’t want anyone else, only you. I need you to hear me.”

“I do Ben, I do.”

“No, Y/N. I want you to be my wife, I want you to have more of my babies. You’re the only one for me, I think of you when I wake up, before I go to sleep - there hasn’t been a day in the past ten years I haven’t thought about you. I will never hurt you like that again, I fucking promise you.”

Tears sprung to your eyes as your heart began to heal, it felt so full as you sat beside him basking in his words.

“I fucking love you Benny.” You grabbed his cheeks pulling him into a kiss. It started off lighter before it began to deepen. 

Teasingly you flicked your tongue against his gaining access, biting his lip you pulled yourself onto his lap to get a better angle on your exploration of his mouth. Through his jeans you felt him begin to swell as he pressed against the linen of your robe. 

It had only been three weeks, but you were desperate for him to be inside you. Compromise was the name of the game.  

He pulled away from your mouth, which you were fine with, you knew the words about to leave his lips. Which is why you decided to be persuasive as you trailed kisses down his neck. 

“Baby, no, you’ve only just had a baby, c’mon.”

Smothering kisses against his warm skin, he smelled deliciously of the Calvin Klein aftershave he always spritzed on before leaving the house. You moved your hips against his, which prompted him to grab them. His large hands splayed across your ass, holding you still as he attempted to maintain some semblance of self control.

“You can’t go inside, but we can still have fun.” You whispered into his neck. “Besides, you’re the injured party, I have an apology to make.”

“Well…” He moaned as you playfully bit at his warm flesh “You were mean as hell, baby.”

With Benjamin's help you shrugged the linen dressing gown from your shoulders. Instantly you were completely exposed before him.  His eyes zeroed in on your swollen breasts, sure he’d seen them in passing but never so freely exposed and at eye level. 

Hands gentle as always rose to cup them. Those gorgeous fingers skirted around your nipples making your hips rut down against his hardened member. 

“Sensitive.” You explained before he placed kisses on them. He kissed along the underside of your breast before lathering his tongue around your nipples. His gaze lowered and his palms skirted along your sides before they landed on your ass. 

You couldn’t help your self consciousness, the last time this man had seen you naked you’d been a size Y/S. Now you had some fresh stretch marks and a stomach still swollen from your child. 

However, all your self consciousness went out the window the second he squeezed at the meat there and pulled you down against his jeans, his hips thrusted up in time, almost unintentionally. 

The fabric was causing some delicious friction against your clit, yet you wanted more. 

“Is this okay, you’re not in pain?” He asked resting his forehead against yours.

You kissed his lips as you held onto his jaw.

“No. I want more.”

“You can’t have more, your sweet pussy needs more time before I ruin it.” He smirked before claiming your mouth with his tongue, putting all his filthy promises behind it.

“No, but you can.” You leaned backwards and began to undo his zipper. His hands came up to stop you before he remembered your words from earlier. 

Finally, you set him free. He was bigger than you remembered, straining up against Ben’s belly. You couldn't resist as you rubbed your bare heat against him. You were sopping as his cock came away wet. 

Benny groaned, one hand squeezing the meat of your ass and the other staying firmly on your hip, just in case you tried something. You grabbed his chin, joining your mouths in a deep kiss, once more you dropped your hips, your clit bumping against the head of his cock in the most delicious way before you slid along his shaft. 

Once again he groaned, this time into your mouth which you greedily swallowed up. Playfully you bit at his lip, touching your tongue once more to his just to give him a preview of how talented it could be.  

He began to help you as he pushed his jeans further down his thighs frantically as you moved off of his lap and fell onto your knees between his legs. 

Your mouth watered as you stared at his pulsing cock, now covered in your own wetness.  You couldn’t help a smirk as his head dropped back on the couch as he tried to give you space to work. 

Slowly, playfully almost, you stroked his length and you couldn't help a small smirk as his hips thrusted into your palm.  Right where you wanted him, he was fighting a losing battle of control.

With no warning you leaned down and swiped your quick tongue along the head of his cock. If the groans had added to the flood below the belt, the broken call of your name had you practically gushing. 

Leaning forward to get a better vantage, you sneakily pressed your heel into your clit. It alleviated some of the pressure but nowhere near enough. 

All at once you took his length into your mouth, his cry was absolutely gorgeous as he grabbed at his own thigh. 

Your tongue lathered the veins that hid on the underside of his cock. It was wet and messy and he was quickly falling apart in your mouth. 

He was fighting the urge to fuck your mouth as he gripped at his thighs in solidarity, you wanted him to bruise the back of your throat with his thrusts.

You reached up and grabbed his hand, currently grabbing at his thigh and placed it into your hair. It was an open invitation, to let himself go. To stop being so polite and sorry, to go back to fucking you the way he used to.

It was an invited he RSVP’ed immediately.  His hands immediately began guiding your face up and down his cock, pushing your face down so that the head of his dick nudged the back of your throat. 

Your gag constricted around his cock which made his head roll back in pleasure.  His hand loosened its hold on your hair, almost asking permission. 

With a roll off your eyes you dropped your head harder than he had, his cock was practically in your esophagus, but it showed him you could take it. 

“Yes, baby. Fuck - you suck cock so good.”   

Unable to help it you grinded against your heel, desperate for the sweet relief of his touch, but unable to receive it.

You noticed the pressure building as his stomach began taut as he continued fucking your face. 

Taking back control, your hands found his balls and rolled them between your fingers caused him to groan as that pressure increased.

“Fuck baby, I’m gonna-” His cry was all you needed as you as you took his entire length in your mouth. You fought the urge to gag as you reminded yourself to breathe through your nose. His come spurted hotly down your throat as you swallowed every damn drop of it. 

@sixshooter665 @queenie-b- @rambling-in-purple @anaaaispunk

 @miraclesabound @kravitzwhorehore @ahsokathearcher @xoxabs88xox @heresathreebee @psychadelichues @marauderskeeper @tanzthompsonn @mermaidxatxheart

[nativehueofresolution]

marius justifies his decision to groom armand for vampirism by basically saying armand was doomed before he met marius, so then anything marius did to him could only be a form of salvation. compare his agonizing over turning bianca to the plans he hatched for grooming armand over years for his role.

when thinking about why it's acceptable to do this to armand and not bianca or botticelli (lol), marius tells himself there's no loss here- armand was already marked for slaughter, a 'child utterly lost to life who could be reclaimed specifically for the blood'.

yet, he also seems very taken with the idea that armand is angelic and innocent - someone he mold into his brand of killer, unlike bianca, who was already a murderer.

he romanticizes armand's starvation and poor health to make him the picture of an innocent child, and the fact he's enslaved means marius can pretend he's rescuing him. he even toys with the idea that armand could 'earn' his freedom and leave if he was good enough, though he is at least self aware enough to admit he wouldn't have actually done it. he has poor enough circumstances marius can tell his conscience he's giving armand a better life and yet is enough of a blank slate that marius can mold him into his idea of a perfect companion.

and he expects this lack of ties and familiarity with death will make armand detached from humanity, perfectly set him up for vampire life. but it doesn't, not how marius wants. when armand reunites with his family and is deeply moved, marius is taken aback, and seems disturbed armand has a difficult time parting with them.

he becomes obsessively jealous of armand's father, admitting he expected armand to "look upon his family with detachment" and didn't know how to handle the fact that his power and wealth somehow did not outweigh familial attachment. the idea that armand loves his father more than him eats away at marius, though it soothes his ego some that armand never tries to leave despite his melancholy.

still when they return, marius scraps his plans of taking armand to see akasha and enkil. he needs to be 'more advanced', 'more wise', and 'more nearly perfected'. he begins to doubt armand is taking in his lessons on philosophy and civilization and instead muses that it might take centuries for armand to reach the level of detachment from humanity marius would like to see. and when bianca admits armand confided in her about the secrets of vampirism, he 'trembles with rage' - even though the fact she knows is what allows bianca to save marius's life!

ironically, armand does become incredibly detached from humanity when he's with the children of satan, but then marius feels he's too detached because he no longer feeds on the evil doer.

like armand truly can't win with marius. he's too attached and not worthy of meeting akasha because he still misses his family and is too involved with humanity. ok, now he's too detached and has no concern for human life, so he's a lost cause not worth saving. it fits with the way marius constantly describes armand as either a saintly angel or a perfect devil, never a person. he completely wrote off armand, but somehow decided, without meeting him, lestat (!!) has proven himself enough for marius to spill all his secrets to.

but the real kicker is that, while the whole 'just kill only bad people!' light yagami logic is never thoroughly interrogated in the series, the one who comes the closest to offering a critique... is marius! and he tells it to armand!! after the banquet slaughter, armand, looking for reassurance after the massacre he just witnessed, asks marius if all the people he killed were evil. and marius basically says 'i'd say so, but who am i to judge? it's all just justifications for my appetitie' and then points out that bianca could be called evil (and let's remember he did threaten her in front of armand earlier that evening and armand threatened to commit suicide if marius followed through and killed her!). indeed, she fits the bill of the 'evil doers' he normally kills, having murdered multiple people. but he spares her because he likes her. and yet... no reflection from marius, no consideration of how telling armand one of the people dearest to him could be called evil might create a disconnect. none of this humility when he is leaving armand to centuries of misery in the cult that indoctrinated. it's the same thing marius himself said - his moral judgments are really just pretenses for him to excuse his tastes, and he decided armand was no longer to his.

[ryuichirou]

I've been lurking for quite a while now and haven't sent asks to literally anyone in years... but I just wanted to tell you how much I looove the way you draw Azul! Confidence fits him so much better than being the self-conscious, embarrassed mess other people depict him as. So many people seem to forget that there's much more to him!

Anooon, thank you so much for appreciating our Azul!! We also really love when he is confident and smug, sometimes we joke that for Azul to look like his authentic Azul self, he needs to have a very punchable face…

Pretty much the first thing Katsu and I learned about Azul was that he is an unhinged control-freak who could spend a week trying to train himself to throw a dice a certain way because he refuses to accept that he can’t control luck. It’s super fun to play around with this side of his, because he is like Disney villain level (lol) of unhinged at times, he’ll go extra mile and then some more for the weirdest reasons.

And even though he hides some insecurities somewhere deep inside his rotten smug soul, I really don’t like it when people boil him down to the way you’ve described. He is confident, because he is hardworking enough to know that he’s done everything to be flawless; he is smart and cunning and powerful enough to play his cards right; there is no reason for him to be self-conscious when he has all the power in his greedy hands. And most importantly, Azul doesn’t need to be pitied, I feel like this is the treatment he would be quite uncomfortable with.

I think it would be fair to assume that this vision of Azul (“always self-conscious embarrassed mess”) comes from his chapter, in which he had a huge emotional breakdown. We absolutely loved this scene and his entire overblot sequence, it’s one of our favourites, but I think it’s important to remember that this wasn’t a typical situation for Azul. He got hit in the most sensitive spot, got pretty much his entire life ruined (at least this is what it felt like to him), so of course he mentally went back to that state he was in when he was a helpless child: the thing that used to protect him that he’d built over the years was destroyed. Leona and Ruggie were both shocked to see him becoming a hysterical crybaby in an instant, and everyone agreed that Leona went too far. What I’m trying to say is that while it was authentically Azul, it wasn’t typical for Azul, and nothing even remotely close to that situation has ever happened again.

Of course, Azul is cautious, protective of his genuine self and doesn’t trust anyone. And we love sensitive Azul a lot, I drew and posted him crying at least once, but it’s like… This side of him is especially good because usually he isn’t like that; usually he is manipulative, bossy, even cruel and cold-hearted at times. And most importantly, he knows his own worth, so he would never doubt anything he’s worked so hard on, be it his appearance, his magic skills, his business skills, anything. So yes, he is confident.

Sorry, Anon, I guess I have a lot to say about this topic… Thank you again for sending this ask, sharing your opinion and loving our Azul!

Have a great day!

[ddarker-dreams]

Hi,

I'm asking you this 'cause you are one of my fav writers on this app and I'm too embarrassed to come off anon.

I used to be confident in my writing a year ago. The words used to flow into my head freely as I write and not even once I felt like it was a chore to me. I didn't doubt or fuss over stuff I write until one day I got criticized very badly. I received a huge feedback on how much my writing sucked (literally a page).

Now, every time I sit to write stuff i love, i fall into the pit hole of self doubts and start to loathe the style of my writing.

I know it sounds pathetic that one bad criticism has changed my mindset. And, writing stuff is my only outlet....

Today, I run a small blog on this app and so far the response for the stuff i write is so positive yet I can't shake away this insecurity and it is starting to take a toll on me.

How do I overcome this? I would appreciate any tips on getting better at writing and finding a unique writing style. Please ignore this ask if it makes you uncomfy tho. Again, I'm so sorry if I troubled you.

hello anon!!

aa… i'm really sorry to hear that this happened to you, unsolicited criticism can already be discouraging, but that sounds infinitely worse ?? i don't think you sound pathetic, it's pretty natural for people to remember negative experiences over positive ones. it just sticks in the brain longer. i'm a pretty sensitive person myself so i can see where you're coming from. i think one of the things that's helped me a lot is basically going 'so what lol' whenever i'm confronted with stuff like that. we're writing self-indulgent stories for fun (and free!), it doesn't need to be this generation's war and peace. it's okay for your work to be 'messy'. writing is like any other hobby, what matters more is enjoying the creating process rather than arriving at a super polished piece that's-100%-without-flaw-god-tier-ready-to-be-accepted-in-the-canon-of-the-bible level stuff. there's absolutely nothing wrong with wanting what you work on to be good, i absolutely strive for that myself, but when it feels more like a chore and i'm agonizing over it, i take a step back.

i didn't feel right giving you a watchmojo top ten tips to improve your writing reply in response to this. i was too busy going >:( at the thought of an absolute troglodyte thinking their silly one page of feedback that no one asked for was warranted. like. the world is on fire. we're seeing a surge in cash grabs that have absolutely zero soul behind them. creativity is constantly shoved to the side for a quick buck (hbo max flipping off their animators, ZA/UM booting the minds behind disco elysium who spent literal decades working on the game, the list could go on forever). create what you want and what you love, if someone tries to come @ you with rude feedback, that's cringe. 'you forgot to collect the homework' type energy. zero bitches. lame. zzzzzz.

all this to say . i want to encourage you to not feel burdened that you need to improve your writing PRONTO, because if that's hovering over you, it'll sap away your joy while writing. the thought alone makes me sad. there is no person on the planet who has experienced the exact set of circumstances that you have, meaning you have something to contribute that's entirely unique to you. you can describe things in ways people could never think to because they aren't you, you can infuse your distinct personality into your work, create something from nothing. you already have your own unique writing style; everyone does.

i'm sorry if this isn't coherent or useful, i just ended up getting heated HJTKEMG please keep writing anon!!! but remember that it's okay to take breaks when the negatives outweighs the positives during the writing experience. in fact, it's perfectly normal across the board for any hobby. i'm wishing you the best of luck.

[darklordazalin]

Azalin Reviews: Darklord Azalin

Domain: Darkon Domain Formation: 579 BC Power Level: 💀 💀 💀 💀 💀 💀 💀 💀 💀 💀 (10/5 Skulls) Sources: My infallible mind. Actual Sources: 1e module: House on Gryphon Hill; 2e modules: From the Shadows, Roots of Evil, Death Unchained, Death Ascendant, Death Triumphant 2e source material: Realms of Terror, Domains and Denizens, 3e source material: Secrets of the Dread Realms, Ravenloft Gazetteer Volume II, Ravenloft Novels: King of the Dead, Lord of Necropolis, I, Strahd: The War Against Azalin, Tower of Doom, Tales of Ravenloft (featured in The Crucidble of Dr. Rudolph van Richten) At first I had qualms about conducting this self review as it requires me to divulge certain information I would rather leave buried, then I realized I could simply modify the memory of anyone who reads this. This way, I can tell the truth and no one is the wiser. I’ve heard rumors of Domains in the Mist that are larger than Darkon, but none are as vastly populated or diverse. Darkon was born from magic and darkness, which has seeped into the very land itself. Magical phenomena are quite common throughout my land and magic, naturally, is a day to day occurrence for my people. On the surface, Darkon is peaceful. At least, for those that know their place. Though I may rarely make a public appearance, my rule is seen everywhere through the direction of my Kargat. As long as my rule holds, the land is steady. I am known to be fair with my judgments if not harsh. Many describe me as ruling as “an iron fist with a velvet glove”. I do love velvet… Enough about this velvet cage of mine, let us move on to my history. How exactly did one as perfect as I end up in this miserable land? I wasn’t always “Azalin” and was born Firan Darcalus Zal’honan in 231 CY in the land of Oerth in the earldom of Knurl to Earl Turalitan Zal’honan. I was the Earl’s middle child and largely overshadowed by both my elder brother (Ranald) and younger brother (Irik). Worst of all, my father hated everything to do with the arcane, something I excelled at at a very young age. So, ignored and belittled for excelling at the very thing my father hated was my life until I disowned my family at the age of 15. What led to this decision…well, I’m ashamed to say I never had a proper teacher in the arcane and grew a bit over confident in my abilities. I really did love my little brother, Irik. He was naive, but always a light of happiness. So naturally I wanted to show him my passion for magic and what better way to do so than bring him along for a demon summoning? Perhaps if my “teacher” Corsalus had any skill or had given me access to the books he said I wasn’t ready for (even though I had already surpassed him), we wouldn’t have botched the summoning and Irik wouldn’t have become possessed. I know that I did the right thing. I went directly to the wizard Quantarius and begged him for his help to save my dear brother. Of course, my father stopped Quantarius before he had the chance. If he had just put aside his biases for one moment and listened to me, Irik would have lived that night. Quantarius was banished and I was given the option of a “pardon” if I renounced magic and accepted the Divine. Ridiculous. At least I know where my power comes from, those that pray for theirs just accept that it comes from whatever God they kneel before, but that source could be anything. It’s not as though their gods ever lower themselves to speaking to a mere mortal. I chose exile and became an Apprentice to Quantarius. I studied under Quantarius for almost three decades before we parted ways. Having a aptitude for magic from a very young age, I learned quickly and even surpassed my Master in many ways. For one, I discovered  a way to harvest the lifeforce of the recently departed to heal as well as restore youth. Yes, you can thank me for such spells as “Life Transference” even if I was not as egocentrically as Mordenkainen to name it after myself. In 283 CY, I was asked to return home and take on the rulership of Knurl. Not surprisingly, my brother Randal’s rule had left the land in chaos since he preferred throwing lavish parties and ignoring his actual duties. With his death, the people of Knurl hoped that the famous wizard of Knurl (I’m speaking of myself, naturally) would save them. I did just that and with my vast knowledge of magic and strict rule I led Knurl into a time of prosperity. I ensured magic was brought back into the earldom and was given the proper respect it deserved. My people called me “Azal’Lan” or “Wizard King” and truly adored me. Eventually, realizing I would not be able to indefinitely extend my own life through magic, I married Olessa in hopes of producing an heir. We had a son and Olessa died in childbirth. A pity really…but it couldn’t be helped. I named the child Irik after my lost brother. I loved Irik very much, but his soft nature was not promising for the strict rule that Knurl needed. Try as I might, he resisted my teachings and eventually betrayed me. I was left with no choice but to execute him myself so my people would know that no one, not even my own son, was above the law. I regretted it though. If only I had done things differently. If only there was a way to start again. And that’s when the voices came to me. What I call my tormentors and now know to be the Dark Powers. They promised me immortality but that was not as appealing to me as their promise of granting me the ability to bring my son back to life. I followed their instructions and gathering the resources necessary, created a potion. Once drunk, I became what I am today, a lich. Not the immortality I imagined but that mattered little as long as I could bring Irik back. They had tricked me and though I could bring Irik back, it was not what I wanted. I could only bring him back as one of the undead, not the true life I had envisioned. Thankfully I was able to undo that transformation and bind his spirit to his corpse so I could cast the proper spell once I learned it. I ruled Knurl for 6 decades as a lich, always careful to disguise my true nature. I was betrayed by one I thought was loyal to me and was lured out of the protection of my home based on a rumor of the spell I sought to restore my son. While seeking out this spell, myself and my guardsmen were surrounded by an army a thousand strong. I could have easily taken hundreds of them out without a second thought, but a thousand required a bit more strategy than mere destructive spellwork. I fled into a thickening fog in the hopes of playing a bit of cat and mouse with my betrayers. Instead I found myself in Barovia. I spent almost 40 years in Barovia working with Strahd von Zarovich on discovering a way to escape the Mists we were now both trapped in. We spent more time bickering than working together, but I did make some headway…inadvertently created a few new Domains and we did escape to Mordent for some time…though as I said before, I did not find it a very memorable experience. I have vague recollection of there being two Strahds there and, let me assure you, one is far too many. After another botched experiment to escape the Mists, Strahd and I were investigating the ruins of an abandoned monastery on the banks of the Luna River. Or more I was investigating while the overgrown flea was sitting in his carriage after assuring me how pointless the effort was. I discovered a single spell scroll within and upon seeing it, Strahd left in a huff of bat wings as he often did. A moment later I heard sounds coming from within the Mists. The sounds of wagons and horse hooves. I rushed within, hoping that whoever was traveling them could escort me away from Barovia…That…wasn’t entirely what happened. Instead I was transferred to my own prison - Darkon. I was split into my mortal and lich half when I first entered Darkon with no memory of who or what I was. Darcalus was King of Darkon when I first arrive and I, Firan, believed he had killed my son and wanted revenge. I wasn’t exactly wrong. I will not get into the details of how, but eventually my two halves combined once more and left me as the King of Darkon. I am clearly the most powerful of the Darklords. Not only am I cursed to never restore my son to life, but I cannot learn new spells. Why? Why this difference? I am convinced they are afraid that I could find a way to destroy them if I was allowed this freedom. But because of this, I feel their presence far more than any of my fellow Darklords and have learned much about them. And I will have my revenge! Even without the ability to learn new magic, I am still an incredibly powerful spellcaster. And…well, I may have a single room in Castle Avernus in which I can learn and cast new magic from. Many consider my rule of Darkon as “strict yet fair” and only meddling fools such as van Richten have learned of my true nature. Most of my subjects believe me to be a powerful wizard who extends his life through magic, which is, technically, correct. Besides being a powerful lich, I can delve into the mind of any Darkonian and rewrite their memories as I see fit. I have infinite control over the undead in my Domain and can raise corpses no matter how far away I am from them. I caused the Requiem that forced many Domains out of the Mists and created Necropolis. I am a force that is not to be reckoned with. I am Darkon.

[yaminerua]

This one got away from me a bit yesterday and I fell behind again, haha. I might try to smush today's prompt with tomorrow's to try to catch up again.

As always, prompts are by @a-literal-toaster-wtf

Anyway Day 4's theme was Family, and I couldn't help but think of Jim and Bexley. Needless to say it does cover a bit of Lister’s pregnancy.

Words: 6238

****

The last year or so had, for lack of a better word in the English language to adequately describe it, been pretty smegging bizarre. Perhaps it hadn’t really been any stranger than the year before it, after all waking up from stasis 3 million years after you went in to find that the human race had all but petered quietly out of existence around you while you’d been frozen in time had been quite a shock on its own to say the least, but it had certainly done its best to match that level of weird and expand it to newer and more mind-boggling ranges of nonsense.

Most recently, in one of several misguided attempts to orient themselves towards Earth and find their way out of the uncharted, seemingly unpopulated vastness of deep space, the Boys from the Dwarf had wound up skipping into a parallel dimension and come face to face with versions of themselves which had been familiar in some ways but also very, very different in others.

As if that on its own hadn’t been more than enough of a dosage of strangeness to call it a day, the encounter had ended – as many ill-advised, drunken liaisons do –  with one David Lister discovering that he was somehow, impossibly, incomprehensibly, ‘up the duff’, as it were.

Sure, he had known that children were in his future, he had seen the two crying little boys with his own eyes in that brief lightspeed anomaly that had allowed him to glimpse snapshots of things that were yet to happen, but with circumstances as they had been at the time the revelation had led to much curious speculation over just how exactly it was going to come about. Lister was the last living human being after all, floating through deep space on a ship populated only by a computer, a hologram and a humanoid who had evolved from what had once, long ago, been a regular black cat. With no women on board, it had seemed only logical to assume that somewhere out there, waiting to be found, was the person who would one day be the mother of his children.

Well, he hadn’t exactly been wrong about that per se… The mother of his children had indeed been out there. He just hadn’t exactly anticipated that it would end up being himself.

Rimmer had found it absolutely hilarious when it had all first come to pass, when that final little piece of the jigsaw had fallen impeccably into place, filling in the mystery once and for all. There was something almost poetic about it in a strange way, something karmic and deeply, deeply amusing about being impregnated by your alternate universe self, and the sheer thought of it had had him snickering and guffawing at frequent intervals at Lister’s expense throughout the process of Lister’s own staggered, reluctant acceptance of his own fate.

The hilarity of it had, of course, only been short lived. Once the reality of the situation had finally settled and it had dawned on them that Lister was, in fact, going to have to endure a full term of pregnancy if these boys were going to actually be born the full picture had blossomed then into cold, sobering clarity and suddenly become quite decidedly unfunny.

For what felt like an endless eternity after that, Rimmer had busied himself reading book after book on pregnancy, trying and failing to take in as much information as he possibly could ahead of the big day, treating it like he would any other exam or test (which inspired no confidence in anyone who knew Rimmer’s track record with those) while Lister just dealt with it in the only way he could, which was largely by continuing to pretend it wasn’t actually getting closer and closer with every passing day.

The logistics of how exactly things were going to work had been something he hadn’t wanted to think about too closely so it had fallen to Rimmer to read up on it himself instead because at least one of them had to be prepared for this and if Lister himself was going to shirk that responsibility despite having been the one to put himself in this situation in the first place then Rimmer was, as usual, going to have to pick up his slack.

That had been much easier said than done, however. Being a hologram, he’d had to rely largely on the assistance and coordination of the skutters to hold the books and turn the pages and whenever those had failed he’d had to turn to Holly and used vocal commands to navigate pages on harsh, bright screens that made his eyes feel like they were burning in their sockets after hours of staring at them.

Rimmer had never realised just how much went into a pregnancy. He’d never had cause to learn it properly before, of course, but there was no time like the present to suddenly decide to become informed. He’d done his best to attempt to supervise Lister’s eating and drinking habits to ensure every possibility of a healthier birth, and he had reprimanded him every time he had so much as even breathed in the direction of his cigarette packs or alcohol.

He’d drawn up timetables, plotting each significant milestone of the pregnancy, and bored Lister half to death with all the fussy, pedantic little things he did to try to take control of the whole situation and after enduring it for as long as he could Lister had finally rolled his eyes and groaned in aggravated frustration one day and pointed out how much he was starting to sound like a nagging, controlling husband. Rimmer had choked and spluttered in disgusted horror at the implications of such a comparison and had promptly disappeared off to some quiet, isolated part of the ship and avoided being anywhere near him for the rest of the day, which had come as a welcome relief.

Eventually, of course, the slow, steady march of time had brought the final day upon them and there had been no way to continue to put off acknowledging it any longer. By then, thankfully, a few important things had changed on board Red Dwarf. The biggest of these had been that they had acquired a new crew member, a service mechanoid by the name of Kryten who they had crossed paths with once before.

Kryten was well equipped to be able to assist in all manner of things, mostly pertaining to the upkeep and maintenance of the ship’s general tidiness but he also was quite competent in numerous other fields and was, importantly, capable of learning new skills and good at comprehending and retaining the information which was far more than could be said for Rimmer, who had at one point found himself more than halfway through a chapter on natural childbirth before he had belatedly remembered that Lister wouldn’t be experiencing it that way and had flipped, mortified, to the chapter on C-sections and promptly been rendered entirely unable to focus well enough to take anything in.

With Kryten’s presence on board, Rimmer had been privately relieved to discard the initial plans for carrying out the daunting procedure, which would have largely involved him trying desperately to coordinate the skutters to work together to deliver the twins without accidentally killing them or Lister in the process.  Needless to say, that was one role he had been more than thankful to be able to hand over to someone else.

When the big day finally arrived, he had tried with all his might not to give a single solitary smeg about any of it. He had been as carefully nonchalant as was possible as Kryten had come in to wheel Lister off to the medical bay, waving after him with a falsely bright “Don’t die, Listy!” as he’d watched him disappear down the corridor. He’d swallowed about as much of the nerves as he could keep down but the fact of the matter was that, in all honesty, he had been absolutely petrified. The little matter of his own continued existence relying heavily on Lister’s survival through this crucial procedure aside, there was – deep, deep down where not even Rimmer dared to investigate – a genuine concern for Lister’s wellbeing in its own right. He didn’t exactly like Lister, and he made that patently clear at every available opportunity, but he didn’t hate him – didn’t really want anything bad to happen to him. Certainly not something bad enough that they wouldn’t be able to laugh about it afterwards (even if Rimmer was the only one who might have been laughing).

While Kryten worked what he hoped was medical magic behind closed doors, Rimmer had paced along the length and breadth of the corridors like a man possessed, wringing his hands and vibrating with anxiety. Several times across the excruciatingly long duration of the procedure, he had become increasingly, frustratingly aware that this behaviour was doing absolutely nothing to shake off the appearance of ‘overly-concerned husband’ but given that the only other person bearing witness to any of it had been the Cat who honestly couldn’t have given a smeg, he’d simply brushed it off and pushed it down every time it had tried to resurface.

When finally, after what had genuinely felt like an eternity, the doors to the medical bay finally slid open and a self-satisfied, proud looking Kryten had walked triumphantly out, wiping his hands, Rimmer had nearly bowled him over with his aggressive impatience. “Well?” he’d snapped urgently, nostrils flared and lips drawn together in a tense, thin line. “What happened? How did it go?”

Kryten had simply smiled genially at him then and announced happily, “It’s two boys!” and if he had been capable of it Rimmer would have throttled him right there.

“I know it’s two boys you half-chewed rubber-headed git! I’m talking about Lister!”

Kryten had been a little put out by the outburst, blinking sheepishly down at the floor, the smile on his face wiped off in an instant. “Oh, yes of course,” he had said, fidgeting slightly before recovering himself and straightening up. “Mister Lister is going to be fine, sir. He just needs to rest up and keep clean.”

Rimmer had rolled his eyes sarcastically and scoffed. “Oh, fantastic, he’s doomed then is he?” he’d said wryly but there hadn’t really been any bite in it. At this point, now that presumably the worst of it had come and gone, he’d simply been left too exhausted for there to be any genuine hard edge to it. In all honesty he’d just been filled with an immense sense of relief that the whole thing was largely over and done with now.

Kryten had paid the remark no mind, instead deciding to inform Rimmer that he was heading off to prepare the room the twins would be staying in once they were ready to do so and had given him permission to go in to see them if he wanted to, requesting only that he be mindful not to wake Lister and then he had been off leaving Rimmer with nothing better to do than do precisely that.

That had been a good few hours ago now and as Rimmer sat peering down into the little crib at the tiny sleeping bundles destined to be named Jim and Bexley, he felt the weight of all these past weeks weigh down heavily on him, equal parts relief and exhaustion.

This had been more work even than preparing for his exams had usually been. At least with those he had been able to take breaks away from it but living with a pregnant buffoon that you had to effectively supervise and educate yourself about had felt like an endless job he had never willingly signed up for.

The boys had been moved into their new room by now, just down the corridor from the bunkroom so that it was near enough to be easily accessible without the sounds of screaming and wailing being too close and loud to get in the way of Lister’s much needed rest or get too much on Rimmer’s nerves.

Lister himself had been moved back into his old room – mostly because he had apparently insisted on it – however given his current condition and the effort that getting up onto the top bunk would have required, Kryten had carefully placed him on the lower bunk without Rimmer getting much of a say in the matter. It didn’t really matter all that much anyway. Lister had already been forced to relocate to Rimmer’s bunk as his growing size had limited his movements so it wasn’t so much of a leap to let him keep using it a little longer. He was pretty certain that once he was finally able to be granted access to his own bed again after Lister was fully recovered he was likely going to have to fumigate the whole mattress and all of its covers but that was a problem for a later date.

It was strange that it was over, all that build up, all that preparation that had been made in advance of this day and now the moment had passed. Now all that stretched on ahead was a new and entirely different situation and it was one that Rimmer was secretly dreading in an entirely different way.

Jim – or was that one Bexley? He couldn’t remember – hiccupped gently in his sleep and snapped him from his thoughts, catching his attention as he shifted a little, letting out a soft, gentle vocalisation as he turned towards his brother. They were so small, so fragile-looking, and Rimmer felt entirely out of his depth thinking of the responsibility of keeping them both safe. He didn’t know the first thing about children. He doubted Lister knew any better. This whole thing was surely going to be a disaster.

Bexley – or simply ‘the other one’ – whimpered slightly, a small, feeble whine that threatened to escalate into something else. “Shhh,” Rimmer said quietly, as soothingly as he could, indicating urgently for the skutter sitting by his feet to initiate the gentle rocking motion he’d instructed it to do in events like these, anything to try to keep the boys content and quiet, though he knew that would only be able to work for so much longer before the problem became something that genuinely required someone else’s assistance.

That was another thing about being a hologram that was going to make this new future difficult to handle. He couldn’t touch anything which meant that he’d be useless at any of the more hands-on aspects of looking after children. There was nothing he would really be able to do to stop the boys from doing something if they wouldn’t listen to his commands (and if they turned out to be anything like Lister was, that was a very likely outcome). Not only that, but he wouldn’t be able to help feed them, or hold them, or change their nappies or any of that – not that those duties would have fallen to him anyway. The most he could hope to do was simply sit as he was now and watch over them quietly, speak to them occasionally and try to soothe them with his words if they started to cry, rocking them gently back to sleep with the aid of a skutter to handle the movement for him.

He supposed he shouldn’t really feel as bereft as he was about this whole thing. These weren’t his children in any capacity. They were Lister’s through and through. Rimmer was effectively just someone else who shared the same space as them, a strange ghostly uncle of sorts at the very most, but that didn’t mean he didn’t want to be a little more involved in the process, at least a little. Maybe he just wanted some kind of evidence to prove to himself he’d have been any good at this…

He sighed, gesturing for the skutter to ease the rocking to a gentle stop now that the twins seemed to have settled back down again.

He lost track of just how long he sat like that watching the two of them sleeping on peacefully but it must have been quite some time. Kryten had popped in every now and then to check on them and even the Cat had swung by to squint curiously down at them and comment that he hoped they would have better dress sense than their daddy when they grew up.

When the door to the room slid open behind him some time later with another gentle hiss he expected it to be Kryten so when he turned round to find that it was in fact Lister making his way with some difficulty and no small degree of discomfort towards the cot he had to bite his tongue fiercely to keep from shouting for him to get back to bed.

Catching himself in time, he opted instead for hissing the demand but Lister waved him silent, all stubbornness and disobedience as always. “I want to see my boys,” he said firmly and Rimmer couldn’t really argue with that.

He stood up from the chair he’d been seated on and shifted over to the one next to it that Kryen had been using earlier, letting Lister drop down heavily and breathless on the one he’d just vacated, watching the way he winced with pain and clutched at his lower abdomen. “You really should still be in bed, you know. You can’t just walk around all willy-nilly after you’ve been sliced open,” Rimmer said matter-of-factly.

Lister simply offered a partial shrug and leaned carefully forwards over the cot as far as was comfortable, beaming down tiredly but joyfully at the two little boys he’d brought into the world.

“Aren’t they fantastic?” he cooed, awestruck, reaching a hand out to tentatively brush his fingertips feather-light across their little cheeks. “They look just like me.”

“Well,” Rimmer began, his tone sarcastic and utterly unsurprised. “When your mother and father are the same person what do you expect?”

Lister shot him a look, unamused, and turned back to look down at the twins again. “Alright, Rimmer, leave off. Yeah, it’s a bit unconventional but it’s what happened, alright?”

He could hear Rimmer let out a small, indignant ‘tsk’ to his left and decided not to acknowledge it. He wasn’t going to let anything he had to say ruin this moment for him after everything it had taken to get here.

He sat back in his chair, eyes still twinkling proudly, warmly, down at the wholesome little sight, a single shining gift in what had otherwise been a cold and difficult couple of years to process. Behind his ribcage, he felt oddly light, a rosy glow of affection radiating out from his heart and expanding to fill every inch of him, making him feel positively giddy, though that might have also partly been the painkillers.

“I always wanted a family,” he confessed quietly, suddenly, eyes softening with a wistful, distant look of longing. “A proper one, I mean. The one I got did their best but, well…”

He trailed off, ending the sentence with a shrug and a shake of the head. Rimmer didn’t say anything, didn’t really know what to say.

A heavy silence settled between them, oddly tense, before Lister decided to break it again. “Never actually knew me real dad. Or me mum,” he began, speaking aloud to no-one in particular, peeling back the more private, personal layers of his past just a little, giving Rimmer a few more pieces of a jigsaw he’d previously only had scraps of before. “I was left in a box under a pool table in a Liverpool pub when I was still a baby. No idea why…”

Rimmer bit back the urge to say that explained a few things. It didn’t seem appropriate. Instead he remained quiet, watching Lister out of the corner of his eye, noting the way he chewed anxiously on his bottom lip, a little agitated crease forming between his brows, staring absently into the distance for a moment before affixing a falsely bright smile to his face and shaking his head, attempting to mask how he really felt about the whole thing. “I like to think they had a good reason for doing it but… I dunno.” He looked down at Bexley, who had unconsciously grabbed hold of Lister’s finger in his sleep, his tiny little hand loosely clinging on unknowingly to someone to whom such a simple human gesture meant so much.

Lister swallowed hard, struggling to push past the tight little ball of emotion that had formed in his throat. When he spoke, his voice sounded choked. “I always wanted to have sons of me own one day, so I could be there for them, watch them grow, y’know? Do what my parents couldn’t.” He laughed, a little incredulous, disbelieving sound, as he looked around at the room. “Didn’t think this was how it’d end up happening though.”

Rimmer huffed a short, curt laugh beside him, hollow and humourless, and Lister shot him a glance, eyebrow quirked slightly in curiosity. “What about you?” he asked after a moment, searching the tightly drawn lines of Rimmer’s face. “Did you ever want to have kids one day?”

Rimmer didn’t look at him, didn’t dare to. He could feel the burn of that inquisitive stare boring into the side of his head but he kept his gaze fixed straight in front of him, locked on nothing in particular, and Lister watched carefully as he swallowed slowly, adam’s apple bobbing above the collar of his uniform shirt.

“I don’t know, to be quite honest with you,” he admitted quietly after a moment, a rare fragile, vulnerable quality to his voice, honest and open in a way Rimmer only occasionally allowed himself to be. “My parents expected me to of course – they expected us all to – but I don’t really know if that kind of life was ever actually in the cards for me.” His face crumpled slightly and a harsh, sharp laugh ripped its way bitterly out of him. “Well, obviously, of course it wasn’t – just look what happened to me!”

Jim stirred suddenly in his sleep in the cot, disturbed by the sudden sound, his little face scrunching up momentarily, seeming just about ready to burst into tears and Lister readied himself to react but the moment never came to pass. He simply settled back down and kept on sleeping peacefully, which was a much appreciated relief for now.

Rimmer became very quiet then, introspective and solemn, his whole form seeming to shrink into itself as he sat with his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped tightly between them. He bowed his head and looked down at them, agitated, flexing his fingers tensely as his brows knitted together.

“I don’t know if I’d have been a good father. Guess I don’t have to ever find out,” he said bitterly, the muscles in his jaw tensing noticeably as he wrung his hands together. “I didn’t exactly have what you would call ideal role models so maybe it’s for the best.”

Lister regarded him sadly, sympathetically, and had to fight the overwhelming urge to reach out there and then and place a supportive, encouraging hand on Rimmer’s right knee. Given the circumstances it would only have made the mood worse.

He’d heard Rimmer talk about his family life before and each revelation had been steadily building a much more detailed picture of Rimmer’s past and all the smegged up little things that had made him into who he was today. He knew very well that he wasn’t joking about them being less than ideal, in fact that was something of an understatement. They’d certainly done a number on him, that was for sure.

Not wanting a repeat of the gloomy mood that talk of his parents usually caused him to descend into, Lister tried for an optimistic, sympathetic smile. “I dunno, man. I think you’d probably have been alright,” he said, and somewhat to his surprise, he meant it quite genuinely.

Rimmer, however, didn’t seem to agree. He scoffed derisively at Lister’s words and rolled his eyes, doubtful. “Oh, please, I know you don’t actually believe that.”

“I do, man. I do,” Lister insisted gently and then, seeing the persistent look of disbelief still painted stubbornly across Rimmer’s features, he huffed a sigh and looked down. “Look, so your parents were smegheads and they got a lot of things wrong but that might’ve worked out in its own weird way. I mean, think about it. Now you have a pretty comprehensive list of things not to do to start off with. Can’t go too far wrong if you stick to that, right?”

Rimmer considered his words for a moment and then begrudgingly offered a stiff nod in agreement. “I suppose,” he said quietly, contemplatively, but there was still a noticeable note of bitterness to his voice, like he still didn’t quite believe that was enough on its own. “What does any of that matter anyway? I’m never going to get to find out what kind of father I might have been.”

That same awful, suffocating silence as before descended once again upon them and this time Lister didn’t know how to break it so he didn’t try to. Instead he let it hang in the air around the two of them, thick and heavy, until one of the twins coughed and startled himself awake.

Lister was quick to reach for him, scooping him up and cradling him tenderly in his arms, crooning softly to him as he rocked him back and forth, the gentle motion enough to stall whatever waterworks might have been about to follow.

Tiny and curious, his little face squinted in enchanted bewilderment up at Lister who beamed warmly back down at him and planted a quick little kiss upon his forehead. “There you go, Bexley. Let’s not wake up your brother just yet, yeah?”

Rimmer found the affection hard to look at, like staring directly at the sun, so he tore his gaze away and fixed it instead upon Jim who had thankfully remained peacefully undisturbed.

“I still think you could have gone with better names than Jim and Bexley,” he said pointedly, glad for the slight change in subject. “There are so many more appropriate options out there.”

Lister shot him an impish grin, mischief glinting gold in the brown of his eyes. “Oh yeah?” he said, raising an eyebrow. “Still trying to make Arnold Lister happen are you?”

He waggled his eyebrows teasingly and relished the way Rimmer dissolved into a spluttering flustered mess, the tips of his ears flushing scarlet red in mortified horror.

“Don’t,” Rimmer said warningly, not wanting a repeat of the last time he’d innocently suggested the name. “You know what I meant when I suggested that, Lister. Don’t try to turn it into something else!”

If he hadn’t had his hands full, Lister would have held them up placatingly. “Okay, okay! I won’t,” he insisted but Rimmer seemed doubtful, suspicious, unwilling to let it go quite yet.

It was all the silly little jokes that had been building up over the passing weeks sharing the same space together that had buried themselves under his skin like an itch that couldn’t be scratched and refused to budge. Everything felt like a suggestive insinuation now, an accusation of something his own father would have surely disowned him for – if it had had any truth to it of course, which it didn’t because Rimmer was absolutely, one-hundred percent not whatever it was those implications might try to suggest. It didn’t matter that no-one was left around who would give a smeg about whether he was or wasn’t in any way that would have actually mattered. Rimmer still felt the need to defensively deflect any and all implications regardless.

“Don’t even joke about it,” he said, staring evenly, piercingly, at Lister, hazel eyes dark and deathly serious as he said in a choked, half-hissed, tight voice, “I’m not even remotely that way inclined and don’t you forget it!”

“I never said you were!”

“Well I’m not.”

“Okay! Okay.”

Rimmer seemed to finally relax a fraction, satisfied for now with Lister’s acquiescence. He breathed in deeply, slowly, and released it in a long, steadying exhale, his tensed, squared shoulders finally slackening just a bit.

Lister watched him out of the corner of his eye and couldn’t help himself.

“Even though you were the one who smushed our names together in the first place.”

“Lister!” Rimmer all but shouted, his voice rising to a desperate, rasping hiss, all thoughts of keeping quiet very nearly forgotten in the wake of incandescent, scandalised rage.

Lister laughed as quietly as he could, wincing as the pain in his abdomen seared at the motion, tears beading at the corners of his eyes at the way Rimmer’s nostrils had flared and his whole face had pinched itself tightly to contort around his scrunched up nose. It had been a step too far, he knew that, but Rimmer’s buttons were far too amusing to keep from pressing and he really was being far too defensive about what was genuinely just a little teasing.

He hadn’t meant anything by it, just a little joking around, but every time he did it Rimmer always seemed to become immediately aggressively defensive, his whole body drawing itself taut and rigid with tension, coiled up tight like a spring waiting to snap.

He looked about ready to explode, his jaw set and knuckles white, a pleading, wild, desperate look in his eyes and Lister knew then that he’d pushed him about as far as it was safe to go.

“Alright, I’m sorry!” Lister said, and this time he meant it, not wanting to risk a further escalation.

The apology did little to release Rimmer’s tension, the knuckles of his hands still blooming a ghostly white where he continued to grip them tightly. His mouth was drawn tight and thin, distrust burning fierce and unrelenting in his eyes.

Huffing an exasperated sigh, Lister bit back the urge to utter some remark under his breath about the negative effects of a conservative Ionian upbringing but ultimately decided he preferred not to instigate a full-blown argument in front of his newborn sons. Instead, he turned his attention back to little Bexley in his arms who had started to stir with discomfort again at all the commotion. “Hey, don’t worry, Bexley. That was just your Uncle Smeghead. Nothin’ to worry about. See? From this angle you can see right up his nose into his empty head.”

Rimmer scowled incredulously up at the ceiling and shook his head. He’d had just about as much nonsense as he could take from Lister right about now and here he was still trying to poke fun at him.

“Ha ha, Lister. Very funny,” he said flatly, stonily. “You better be careful what you say around the two of them, you know. If their first words end up being smeghead instead of dad that’ll be a personal failing on you.”

“Yeah, yeah, but it’ll be worth it for the laugh I’ll get from it, eh?”

Rimmer turned to look at him askance, a thousand possible insults and retorts flying through his head but none of them making it past his lips. There was nothing to say, really. Lister was an imbecile and he was absolutely going to raise his sons into precisely the same kinds of imbecile and the mere prospect of having more than one of that kind of person around was quite frankly a depressing thing to imagine.

“The wrong people get to be parents,” is what he eventually decided on, looking back down at Jim in the cot and wondering if there could have been any hope for either of those two boys’ braincells.

The smile on Lister’s face died then and there and he became oddly quiet, rocking Bexley back to sleep before finally lowering him back into the cot beside his brother.

Sitting back, he watched the two of them silently for a few moments longer, the humming and creaking of Red Dwarf all around them the only other sounds.

Now that he’d been up and about for a while and had had a bit of a joke and a laugh, the exertion was beginning to wear him out, the ache in his abdomen and the heaviness of his body calling for him to yield to the pull and finally go back to bed. His eyes slid closed of their own accord and his head bobbed and lolled as he began to gradually drift off, his body starting to ever-so-slightly tilt to the side, towards Rimmer who only realised what was happening moments before it would have spelled disaster.

“Lister, wake up!” he cried, hands flying up helplessly to try to stop him, passing uselessly through him with no resistance whatsoever.

Lister started awake and caught himself, one hand bracing steadyingly against the chair Rimmer was on, disappearing into Rimmer’s torso as though it were impaling him. He jerked back, alarmed and unconsciously rubbed vigorously at his forearm, momentarily disturbed by the reminder that although Rimmer was very much there in spirit, he was very much not there in person.

“Sorry. Nodded of there for a second,” he muttered sheepishly, unable to lift his gaze to meet Rimmer’s.

“I told you you shouldn’t have got up,” Rimmer said, his tone thick with patronising condescension. “I told you you should still be resting.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m going,” Lister relented, pushing himself up with great discomfort onto his feet and steadying himself with the rails of the cot.

“For what it’s worth, Rimmer, and I know what you’re gonna say to this but just listen, alright?” Lister held up a hand, silencing whatever interruption Rimmer might have been about to make. “But, in a way, you kind of will know what kinda dad you’d have been. You’re helpin’ me out with these two after all.”

Rimmer’s face twitched a little, that same little pang of defensive discomfort twisting in his gut. “That’s not being a dad, Lister. If anything I’d be something of an uncle.”

Lister shrugged. “Uncle, Dad, whatever. You’re still helpin’ raise them. You never know, we might end up balancing ‘em out in the end.”

“You mean they might not end up the same kind of lazy, slobbish gimboid as you are?” Rimmer said, raising a dubious eyebrow.

Lister frowned, leaning against the doorway. “Well, yeah, that. But also…” He trailed off for a moment and looked away, suddenly unable to look Rimmer in the eye, his face grimacing a little as he tried to shrug off the awkwardness of what he was trying to get out. “I dunno, it’s just good to not be doing it on me own. Yeah, they’re my kids but beyond me, you and Cat and Kryten are all else they’ve got. Smeg, even Holly too.”

He scratched the back of his head restlessly, feeling altogether too exposed, too naked in this rare show of vulnerable honesty towards Rimmer of all people. He risked a glance in Rimmer’s direction, trying to gauge his expression but Rimmer wasn’t looking at him. He was very pointedly facing away.

He fished helplessly for something else to say but he couldn’t think of anything. A yawn was threatening to force its way up his throat and his energy was flagging. He really needed to get back to bed.

“You should probably take a break soon too, Rimmer,” he said, bringing a hand up to shield the yawn as it finally broke through.

Rimmer nodded. “I will when Kryten comes back,” he said simply and Lister nodded in agreement at that.

“Alright. Night, Rimmer.”

With that, the door to the corridor slid open and closed and it was just Rimmer left in the room with the two sleeping boys again, as he had been for much of the day.

Lister was right, he really should take a break. He felt mentally and emotionally spent after everything but he was finding it hard to switch off after months of hyper-vigilant supervision and he didn’t really know what else to do with himself. His bunk was currently occupied and he would sooner die a second death than ever consider using Lister’s even once.

He thought about what Lister had said again about how they would all be contributing together in their own little ways to the collective raising of Jim and Bexley, about how in a funny little way they were all now part of what was surely a very dysfunctional and highly unconventional family unit. Something about that made him feel a tad strange, an unfamiliar little glow of something warm and light in his chest that flitted about like little butterflies, a mix of apprehension and something almost pleasant.

Maybe he would never have been a good dad, and maybe he was a little bit thankful he would never have to truly find out, but for the time, in this current situation, he was quite content to settle for being the best possible uncle he could be.

And they’d call him Uncle Arnie, not Smeghead. He’d make absolutely sure of that.

[jinxstrology]

Primordial Astrology Signs (Aquarius)

Primal astrology is a branch of astrology which combines the Western and Eastern (Chinese) traditions, creating 144 new signs that provide a deeper look into your personality. Although the system does include the use of the term "spirit animal", we can disregard that and simply view these signs as "primal animals", which I believe is just as accurate.

AQUARIUS (JANUARY 20TH - FEBRUARY 18TH + RAT (1972, 1984, 1996)

Meerkat

Meerkat is a highly contradictory sign. Members of this sign struggle with different parts of their personality on a regular basis, though those around them will hardly notice. They are simultaneously philanthropic and greedy. They want to be seen as different from everyone else, while being accepted by those same people. They are talkative, charming, and funny one day, and quietly lost in their own thoughts the next. They are often extremely friendly and likable, but can be self-centered and downright aggressive at any time.

Members of the Meerkat sign are always deeply intelligent and perceptive. They can see what everyone else sees, but on deeper levels and multiple layers with ease. It’s unlikely that anyone will be able to get anything past a Meerkat without them noticing, though it’s equally unlikely that they will let you know if they are onto your game. They are capable of accomplishing just about anything they want to, but they often struggle with knowing exactly what that is.

AQUARIUS + OX (1973, 1985, 1997)

Walrus

People born under the Walrus sign are likely some of the most curious people you will ever meet. They can be exceptionally smart, and hardworking to a fault. They have big ideas that they have no intention of allowing to simply remain ideas. It’s tempting to think of Walruses as the cartoonish mad scientist, or the absent-minded inventor making fantastic machines in his basement, but in reality, Walruses are much more grounded than this. They have many layers to their thinking, but are always fair with others. They are not overtly social, yet they work extremely hard on projects, with the intention that others can benefit from them.

The best way to describe a Walrus is as a person who works hard to succeed, but has to do things their own way. Walruses aren’t inherently rebellious, they just know what needs to be done, and trust themselves to do it. They don’t like to follow the typical ways of doing things, mostly because they’ve already figured out how to do them better.

AQUARIUS + TIGER (1974, 1986, 1998)

Panther

Panthers are one of the most well-liked of the Primal Zodiac signs. They are very engaging with others, and are always looking for ways to make life better for everyone around them. When they are on top of their game, they are strong, energetic, creative, and intelligent. But, they have a dark side, which usually comes out if they feel like they are not in control of their lives. When they are off balance, they can also be eccentric, over-protective, mysterious, and unpredictable.

No matter what their current mood, Panthers are confident, and they have every reason to be. They are smart, creative thinkers, with excellent leadership and social skills. They can be overbearing at times, when they want things done their way, but most of the time, others recognize that their ideas are good, and that their hearts are in the right place. Paired with their natural charm, it’s hard not to want to do things a Panther’s way.

Balance is key for members of this sign. They have big ideas, and thrive on accomplishment, but this can cause them to miss out on the more important things in life. They work very hard, and stay focused on their goals, but this can cause them to burn out, especially if they don’t get the results they have worked so hard for. When this happens, the dark side comes out, and they become moody, mean-spirited, and aloof - the exact opposite of their usual nature. Even their closest friends will be put off by this sudden change in temperament. Luckily, they tend to bounce back reasonably well, and should soon be back on course toward their next goal.

AQUARIUS + RABBIT (1975, 1987, 1999)

Sloth

People tend to assume that Sloths are lazy, but this is really not the case. Sure, they prefer to hang around their home a good deal, but it’s not because they don’t want to do anything, they just like to take things slow. Like their animal namesake, members of the Sloth sign are unafraid to show their unique nature. They are extremely friendly, to the point of seeming a bit naive. That, paired with their tendency to avoid confrontation, makes it easy to see why others often view Sloths as being weak.

In reality, Sloths are great diplomats. They are socially adept when they want to be, and approach even the most difficult situations with patience and grace. While they are exceptional at keeping cool under pressure, they tend to internalize the negative emotions of those around them, though you would never know it by looking at them. When this happens, Sloths shut down and keep to themselves, which is difficult for them, and those who know them well. They prefer helping others with their problems over sharing their own, which only makes it harder for their friends and family to help them when they get depressed.

AQUARIUS + DRAGON (1976, 1988, 2000)

Leopard

Above all else, Leopards are hard to ignore. Like their animal namesake, members of this sign find it nearly impossible to go unnoticed. Not that they would want to. This are among one of the most grand and eccentric signs out there. They have absolutely no trouble getting attention, though this is rarely their end goal. Rather, their natural assertiveness makes others stop and take notice, whether they want to or not. The natural power of their personalities make Leopards capable of doing great things, and at their best, they use this power to serve the greater good, and end up being much beloved by their communities for this.

There is a dark side to this sign, though. When Leopards are feeling out of sorts, everyone else feels it as well. Since they can’t help but be noticed, they also can’t help but affect those around them. On a good day, they can brighten any room, but on a bad day, they can darken one just as easily.

Even on a good day, others may perceive Leopards as self-centered and egotistical, due to their natural leadership ability, and tendency to draw attention to themselves. In reality, members of this sign most often have the greater good in mind, but must be careful not to come across too strongly, as they will most likely rely on the cooperation of those around them to accomplish their goals.

AQUARIUS + SNAKE (1977, 1989, 2001)

Boa Constrictor

Boa Constrictors are intelligent, charming, colorful, and intuitive. They are highly observant, and have a knack for anticipating the behavior of others. They are very analytical by nature, and while they can be eccentric at times, they calculate their moves carefully before making them. They are very good with words, and can convince others to do what they want, but they also try to avoid being manipulative, unless they need to for the greater good.

Often, members of this sign spend a great deal of energy fighting an inner struggle to balance selfishness with selflessness. Part of them wants to save the world, but the practical side also wants to make sure they and their family are taken care of. Because they never act until they are ready, a Boa Constrictor can spend a great deal of time poring over decisions, which can be unhealthy, because they get stressed out easily.

AQUARIUS + HORSE (1978, 1990, 2002)

Unicorn

Those born under the Primal Zodiac sign of the Unicorn are outgoing, energetic, smart, and unique. That’s the good news. The bad news is that they can also be self-centered, attention-starved, restless, and excessively eccentric.

Overall, Unicorns are kind and giving by nature, and have the capacity to venture far beyond their peers to reach places that others would find impossible. This is the greatest strength of the Unicorn. Their adventurous nature refuses to see limitations. They are always moving toward the next great idea, and they almost always take the road less traveled to get there. Their seemingly endless energy can be infectious, and when they take on a challenge, they are as passionate as ever... for a while. While they truly care about the challenges they take up (and they do so often), Unicorns are quick to give up on something if they don’t see the end result fast enough for their liking. That’s not to say that they don’t care. They just lose focus on one project, and would prefer to spend their exceptional capabilities on something else for the moment.

Unicorns are simply different from the rest, but they have good intentions. At best, they use their energy to change the world. At worst, they become self-obsessed, and spin their wheels in all the wrong directions. They never lack ideas, and are always on the move. If the Unicorn can get focused on a single destination, there is practically nothing that can stop them from getting there.

AQUARIUS + GOAT (1979, 1991, 2003)

Handfish

Of all of the Primal Zodiac signs, Handfish are most likely to be considered “strange”. Like their animal namesake, members of this sign like to do things their own way, which often baffles others. Any of the Primal Zodiac signs that fall under the sun sign of Aquarius are going to be a bit eccentric, but this sign in particular is the least understood. This is mostly because Handfish are the least likely to explain themselves. Though they are actually very friendly, they tend to be quiet and reserved, and feel perfectly comfortable living in their own wild fantasies. Though they seem shy, members of the Handfish sign actually prefer being in a group situation; they are simply content to let others have the spotlight while they observe, ready to contribute to the group when asked.

Not surprisingly, Handfish are extremely creative thinkers. They have enormous imaginations, and are always coming up with new ideas. You’ll often find a Handfish staring out the window, or off into the distance. In these times, they are lost deep in their own thoughts, and often live more of their life in their mind than outside of it. This can be a challenge for them in social, career, and education environments. They are usually very smart, and get through school despite not ever paying attention to their instructor. They do best in careers where their minds are challenged, and where they can have time to think before they act.

While usually quite serene, Handfish can be prone to anxiety. When this happens, it tends to spiral their world out of control. Strong anxiety left unchecked can be mentally toxic to a Handfish, and thus, they should be careful not to lose touch with reality, which they have a natural tendency to do.

AQUARIUS + MONKEY (1980, 1992, 2004)

Dolphin

A combination of inner intelligence and an energetic sense of playfulness, Dolphins are lovable, active, and adaptable. At their best, members of this sign are curious tinkerers by day, and everyone’s favorite drinking buddy by night. At their worst, Dolphins allow themselves to become nervous, confused, and overwhelmed in their work, and become obnoxious pranksters to their friends.

Balance is a difficult act for the Dolphin. They have all the potential in the world to be great when they are focused, but too often second-guess their own natural intelligence, and their world ends up crashing down around them. Simultaneously, Dolphins that become too focused on work end up burned out and resentful, while those who become too focused on play end up acting out in immature ways. Such is the life challenge of the Dolphin. Since they often have big ideas, their life goal is to reach their own personal definition of success, while balancing out any stresses with their fun, social side.

The good news is that Dolphins have lots of energy, and are adaptable to changes around them. When they feel confident, there is little that they cannot achieve. As long as they stay interested, they can chase any dream. The only problem is that they have a hard time staying interested in one thing for too long. That’s why Dolphins often have many projects going at once. That way, when they get bored with one, they can move onto another.

AQUARIUS + ROOSTER (1981, 1993, 2005)

Bird-of-Paradise

Much like their animal namesake, members of the Bird-of-Paradise Primal Zodiac sign are colorful, adventurous, and naturally draw attention from those around them. They want to make the most out of life, so they make big goals and big plans, and truly believe in their ability to achieve them. In truth, they have more ability to achieve big goals than many other Primal Zodiac signs, as long as they can stay humble enough to see their lives for what they really are, not only what they want them to be.

With such big dreams, a Bird-of-Paradise can easily get lost on the wrong path. They will chase a dream to the ends of the Earth, but if they’ve lost perspective, it may be the opposite end of the Earth from where they intended to be. They succeed mostly because of their confidence and likability. Their big personalities and ability to get things done draw people in, and make them believe in whatever the Bird-of-Paradise wants them to. They are not manipulators, though. They believe that honesty is the best policy, even if that honesty is offensive to others.

AQUARIUS + DOG (1982, 1994, 2006)

Chameleon

Chameleons, like their namesake animal, are nearly impossible to perceive correctly. That’s because Chameleons never stay the same for long. From an outside perspective, the chameleon can, at any time, appear confidently eccentric, or anxiously insane. Chameleons love to explore, and are only truly held down to Earth by their own internal practicality, which shows up every once in a while when they really need it. One thing that nobody can question about Chameleons, though, is their kind and giving nature. Though they often seem to be in pursuit of whatever shiny object catches their attention at the moment, members of this sign are always looking out for their fellow man. It would be just like a Chameleon to disappear for an annoyingly long amount of time, just to show up suddenly with the perfect gift that they spent hours at an antique store looking for - just for you.

Chameleons spend a lot of time in their own head. While they are often social, political, and outspoken, they also have a side that is practical, frugal, and down to earth. Don’t bother trying to figure out this contradiction, it’s just the way they are. At best, the Chameleon is exciting, passionate, and has a unique voice that aims to change the world for the better. At worst, members of this sign are anxious, uncertain, suspicious, and defensive. Any member of this sign will struggle with the balancing act between reality, and the ideal world they believe they can make real.

AQUARIUS + PIG (1983, 1995, 2007)

Pufferfish

The Pufferfish is largely misunderstood. That goes for the animal, as well as the Primal Zodiac sign. Often seen as dangerous and unpredictable, Pufferfish really just want to be left alone by people (or fish) that they don’t know. That’s not to say that members of this sign are not social. In fact, they strongly prefer being with friends and family over being alone. It’s just that they like things they way they expect them to be, and new people or places disrupt that aspect of their personality.

Members of this sign are intelligent, insightful, kind, helpful, and well-liked. They can easily be taken advantage of, though, and they tend to go along with any plan, as long as they believe they are doing good. The only time they become truly dangerous is when they realize they have been pushed too far. As with their animal namesake, those who try to take advantage of a Pufferfish will end up taking in much more pain than they anticipated.

The mind of a Pufferfish is always full of ideas. Many members of this sign are intelligent to the point of genius, which can be both a blessing and a curse. With the proper outlet, they can make brilliant strides in art, music, science, medicine, engineering, or whatever they put their overactive minds into. Without some practicality around them to even them out, however, Pufferfish can become the figurative "mad scientist" of the Primal Zodiac, obsessing over esoteric projects of their own design.

[homicidalfantrolls]

Faceless

TW for drug use, needles, self harm and a google doc I recommend for better formatting.

It wasn’t working.

Dia had always prided himself on being a troll with a plan. Contingency after contingency always thought through. Everything planned out, no surprises, nothing unexpected.

Sure, Toresce had been different. An assignment that failed pretty fucking spectacularly, though not in anyway a disappointment. The lime had long since given up any thoughts of quadrants, the festering wound of his time before the fleet never having allowed any hope for such a thing.

Toresce was an incredibly rare event, and impossible to bypass. Someone so emotionally stunted it would take an eternity for any therapeutic reciprocation to form. Tori could barely decipher his own problems, let alone even consider fixing them. Dia was confident that it would take sweeps before Toresce would even realize Dia had any of his own. More to figure out what they were. And never how to fix them.

It was hard not to get attached. It took awhile for him to realize it was okay. The fleet was done, the PR issues of forcing an actor to enlist outweighing the benefits of said enlistments. Not to mention the casualties of tying to force it.

Toresce didn’t like being forced to do things.

It hadn’t taken long to figure that out. It was funny how that was; a man so intent on not being forced into things, yet still so desperate for someone to tell him what to do. Toresce hadn’t shared the reasoning for that yet, nor could Dia convince him of its existence at all. Dia wasn’t sure when he’d hear about all the things his moirail was too scared to tell him. And why he was so vehemently against saying he felt fear at all.

He’d seen it, though. The way Toresce’s soft body turned to steel at the sound of the wind, the way he’d down right hissed that Riptid wasn’t his kismesis—it was just a fling. That crazed look in his bright pink eyes of a cornered animal fearing slaughter.

Toresce liked being told what to do.

Dia knew there was a level of comfort in it that confused the lime to no end. The comfort of familiarity. He’d first noticed it during pailing, the way that the tensed muscles of his moirail seemed to not quite soften but something similar at an order Dia had given, the recollection of what it actually was not important enough to commit to memory.

What was important enough was the passing meetings he’d had with Toresce’s other moirail. He’d done his best to memorize features; the scars, the freckles, the shirt that left very little to the imagination. Toresce seemed to have something against them interacting too much, and Dia only could speculate why. He figured it was something relating to a stupid, skewed sense of toughness. With how long it took Toresce to actually accept Dia as a moirail, it was amazing to think he’d had another one. Toresce most likely figured two in the same place at the same time was overkill. Idiot.

It was due to this skewed aversion Toresce had that Dia never spent much time with her. He knew her about as well as a Toresce wanted.

That didn’t mean it was less of a surprise when he got a text from her.

“Got your number from Toresce’s phone. Sorry. Nothing is working. Can you come down?”

Fuck.

It seemed that despite how against them being in contact was, they both seemed to know him equally well. Toresce was a time bomb that kept resetting after every explosion. It would be a miracle that he kept it at bay from his other moirail.

“Yeah.”

And so he did. In the next couple of hours he’d arrived at his moirails obscenely large hive, about to text of his arrival when the door opened.

The couple of times he’d seen Khirti, he never would have described her as dull. She was a firecracker; had to be to deal with Toresce. She was bright and sweet but loud and gave the impression she’d be terrifying if you got in her way.

The troll that answered the door was a burned out match.

Tired, dark circles under her eyes, and a loose t-shirt on instead of that crop top he’d seen her wear the last couple of times. Sweatpants on and a coffee in her hand.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

Jodiah took a cautious glance over her shoulder and into the hive.

“He’s downstairs,” she sighed.

The gym.

“I’ve been trying to help but he’s not…listening. I’ve tried everything but…” Khirti trailed off. “Maybe you’ll have more luck,” she finished, taking her bag and offering him a guilty glance.

“I got it,” the lime assured the fuschia, stepping passed her and into the hive. He locked the door behind her to sate Toresce’s, as far as he knew, unfound paranoia and descended to his moirail’s home gym.

It was a mess. Weights scattered, punching bags ruined, training dummies in tatters. Toresce was busy doing deadlifts. His arms were shaking with exertion. Four hundred pounds. Idiot.

“Toresce.”

Nothing.

“Toresce.”

Dia stepped closer, cautiously and carefully. Just like waking a sleepwalker, you never surprised a manic Toresce.

“Tori,” he said again, next to his moirail now.

The fuschia snapped up as if being jolted awake, almost throwing the dumbell onto Dia’s feet. Luckily, the lime managed to step back in time to avoid having his feet crushed.

“Fuck, Dia, did you rven—“

“Come on. Upstairs.”

“Dia—“

“Now, Toresce.”

The fuschia glared, but obeyed, letting his moirail take his hand to lead him upstairs.

It didn’t go as planned.

He didn’t usually get bored. Didn’t usually ignore challenges or goading or teasing.

Toresce liked being told what to do.

Didn’t mean he always liked listening.

He was restless. Nothing was keeping him still. His body was shaking with exhaustion, desperation for a moments rest that its owner refused to give. He was running himself into the ground at full spring.

“Toresce. Sit the fuck down for a second,” Jodiah ordered his moirail who had begun to pace again, obsessively checking windows and muttering about whatever.

“Toresce. Sit the fuck down,” he ordered again. This time Toresce obliged, rolling his eyes and sitting next to his moirail. He definitely didn’t sit still, leg still bouncing and fingers still fidgeting.

Dia took his moirails hands in his own, opening them to see the palms. Chapped and blistered, bleeding from all the fidgeting.

“Toresce, when was the last time you slept?”

“Dia, come the fuck on, that doesn’t—“

“Tell me.”

“I don’t fucking know, a day or something.”

“Toresce.”

“Ask Kit, I have no idea, Dia. It doesn’t fucking matter, I don’t need sleep.”

“Toresce—“

“Dia, shut the fuck up a second, I dont need to fucking sleep, I’ve gotten this far without sleep, I don’t need it.”

Dia sighed, rubbing his temples. He pushed Toresce back onto the bed and tried again.

—

After two days of no rest, Dia was desperate. He hadn’t seen Toresce like this before. Ever. He was so exhausted from two days without sleep, it was hard to ignore the temptation to jailbreak Toresce’s phone and call his mate. Maybe he could do something about it.

The thought had his stomach immediately tie itself in a knot. No, he couldn’t do that. Toresce would be pissed, for starters. But he’d be lying if he said that was his main motivation. No.

He couldn’t see Riptid again.

Was that what this was about? Was Toresce really so emotionally stunted he couldn’t even process what Dia had just told him a week prior?

Well…if Dia was being honest, he couldn’t blame him. It certainly had to be a cluster fuck knowing your moirail just happened to have dated the dead brother of your mate’s kismesis who also happened to be your kismesis. A dead brother none of them even knew was ever alive to begin with.

Fuck.

“Toresce. Be honest. Is this about Riptid? And…Fes?” Dia forced himself to ask, glancing at Toresce.

He wasn’t listening. He was bouncing his leg again, watching the window like something was going to crash through it any second.

“Toresce,” Dia repeated, nudging his moirail. He cursed and stood up, returning to his pacing. “Yeah, what, Dia?”

“Is this about Festur?”

“Who?”

Dia didnt have time to get offended before Toresce shook his head. “Riptid’s broodmate, right. No, whatever. I told Riptid he can’t come over unannounced again or I’ll cut off the only limb he’s got left. Doesn’t matter.”

He was grabbing a tank top and tugging on work out pants. Shaking all the while. Jodiah wondered if he’d eaten anything in recent memory aside from that protein shake and bar he’d practically had to shovel into his moirail’s face. Idiot.

“Toresce, where are you going?” he decided to ask. Maybe forcing his moirail to answer would have him come to some sort of breakthrough. That he was a damn idiot and was going to kill himself.

“Downstairs.”

“Why?”

“Lift weights.”

“Why?”

“Because I fucking want to, Dia,” he finally snapped. Not exactly the response he was hoping for.

“You haven’t done enough of that yet?” The lime deadpanned.

“I have a match coming up.”

“Your next match isn’t for another five days.”

“That’s still coming up.”

“Toresce, you’re shaking. You’re exhausted.”

The fuschia frowned, examining his shaking, blistered hand like he was seeing it for the first time. “So what.”

“So you need to fucking lay down and actually rest for a damn minute.”

Toresce just rolled his eyes like Dia was out of his mind, almost falling on the ground ad he tried to pull his work out shorts on. “Damnit,” the fuschia snarled to himself as he caught his balance on the dresser. The impact tore the blistered skin open, leaving a bright pink smear on the mahogany.

The sight of it did something to Dia’s pusher he didn’t want to think about.

“Toresce, you’re fucking bleeding.”

“Yeah, Dia, I noticed.”

The lime sighed in exasperation. Alright. Fine.

“Go ahead, whatever. An hour, that’s it. Then I’m coming to get you,” Jodiah warned. He was an interrogator, after all. Interrogation was all about negotiation. Give an inch, take a mile. Toresce was such an arrogant twat, he’d be smug as hell for that victory.

Just as predicted, the lime could tell his moirail was fighting a smirk behind the roll of his eyes, exiting the block to return to his self destruction for just the time being. Dia sighed, flopping back on the bed in exhaustion.

It was eight hours later when he snapped up in a panic. No, no, fuck. He’d had enough experience in space to have somewhat of a feel of the passage of time without a clock. It wasn’t an hour. It was much longer.

Almost flinging himself down the stairs and sprinting as fast as his drained body could move, it took about thirty seconds to arrive at the fuschia’s home gym.

It felt like an eternity.

Toresce wasn’t dead. That was a relief. Less of a relief was the state the fuschia was in.

Blood was dripping onto the floor from the fuschia’s raw hands, entire body shaking like the last leaf on a tree struggling against a blizzard. He was soaked in sweat, gills straining as he panted. Still, he kept sword in his hand, glaring down a training dummy like it insulted him.

“Toresce…” Dia mumbled, the ting of his voice sounding somehow hopeless despite the robotic overture.

The gladiator lunged at the dummy again, sword plunging into the stuffing and legs giving out beneath him. Dia rushed forward to fall by his moirail’s side without really thinking. An unfortunate casualty of his knees as they stamped down on an acupuncture mat.

Oh.

Jodiah had been so concerned about his moirail’s hands, he hadn’t noticed his legs.

They were shaking and bloody, one knee on the ground and the other holding the weight as Toresce struggled to regain his breath. Dozens, hundreds of pinpoint holes lined the scarred, blood soaked skin.

Mats lined the floor. Toresce’s version of shoes with thumb tacks in the heels, a cruel method to keep fighters light on their feet. That idea alone was a struggle for the lime to wrap his his pan around; Toresce had taken it a step further. The whole floor in front of the mannequins was lined with acupressure pads. A punishment if Toresce fell. It was hard to believe none of his quadrants noticed.

Then again, neither had Dia.

With a pained grimace, the lime shifted his weight into a kneel, the shin left on the mat protesting at the increased sting of hundreds of needles. Draping the muscular arm of his moirail over his shoulder, it was now his foot’s turn to protest as he shifted the weight once more to stand.

Toresce was certainly not light, but like fuck that would stop him.

“D-Dia…I can’t…have to…,” Toresce protested through pants. Dia ignored him, steering the larger man towards the seldom used elevator. The gladiator ordered so much equipment so regularly, it had been a manner of convenience. Luckily for Jodiah, unlike his moirail, this elevator did go all the way to the top floor.

“You can take a break from training to fuck me. I’m bored,” the lime lied smoothly to silence his moirail’s protests. It worked, and Toresce was silent as the elevator ascended, Jodiah placing him on the massive bed once they arrived. He watched as Dia left to the bathroom, only speaking when his moirail returned with a first aid kit instead of nude.

“D-Dia, come the fuck on.”

“You’re not getting blood all over me,” the lime countered, sitting in Toresce’s lap to disinfect and clean the fighter’s palms. They were silent as plush gauze was wrapped around the rough hands, calloused and hardened by sweeps of swordplay. Toresce watched with an unnecessary level of intrigue, and Dia couldn’t help but wonder if the tired pink eyes saw something besides the gentle bandaging.

Once finished, Dia removed himself from the lap beneath him, much to the chagrin of its owner. It lasted only briefly, Dia unceremoniously using scissors from the first aid kit to literally cut the sweat soaked tank top from his moirail and toss it to the side.

“Lay on the bed,” the lime ordered, waiting until Toresce did as he was asked, resting his head on the silk of his pillowcase.

Dia removed his body suit and shorts before reclaiming his seat on his moirail’s lap. Bandaged hands rested on his hips, manic pink eyes roving over his body.

Jodiah placed his hands on the scarred chest of the troll beneath him, lime green eyes unreadable behind the visor that shielded them. Not that Toresce was literate to begin with.

“What are you going to do once we’re done?” The lime mused, quirking a brow at Toresce.

It took a beat for the question to register, then another for the fuschia to answer. “We haven’t even started and you’re already talkin’ about what we’re doing after? You running out of stamina?” Toresce teased.

Dia’s answer was a gentle shock to his moirail’s side.

“Fuck you. I gotta go back to training. The match is in two days.”

“It’s in four, Toresce.”

“Whatever.”

Jodiah sighed. He watched as Toresce’s gills strained, watched as the hands on his hips shook. Watched as Toresce looked at him like juicy steak that just needed to rest for a few minutes before being consumed.

Toresce liked being told what to do.

“Close your eyes.”

“Dia—“

“Now.”

He did.

Jodiah let his eyes rove over the beaten body of his moirail. Sweaty. Dehydrated. Shaking.

Exhausted.

As Dia reached up, Toresce’s fin flicked at the soft shifting noises, impossible to recognize for what they entailed.

“Open.”

Once his vision adjusted, Toresce’s eyes were wide as he took in his moirail’s face for the first time.

“Dia-“ he started, borderline appalled that after all this time he was able to see his moirail’s face without having to beg for it. A finger to his lips silenced the fuschia, though when it was removed he still didn’t speak, like something else was stopping his voice.

Lime eyes locked with pink as waves of relaxation flowed over Toresce, washing him in pleasant warmth. His almost permanently flared fins relaxed to a more limp position.

“…Fuck, Dia, I—“ the gladiator started once more, this time silenced by a palm covering his lips. Jodiah didn’t want to hear any of it. He was fully aware of the first step in exposure to his face. This wasn’t an interrogation, wasn’t part of his job. He didn’t want Toresce to say anything. Not a word.

Dia continued to watch his moirail’s face and eyes, noting them becoming ever so cloudy. He couldn’t help but frown, but quickly returned his expression to neutral when he remembered it was no longer hidden. It shouldn't have been a surprise; Tori was resilient. The last few days had proved it. Of course a couple minutes wouldn’t be enough.

Even as he kept up the eye contact, one hand sliding up the muscular chest of the troll beneath him to rub the now slack fin, Dia did a cost benefit analysis. This wasn’t fair. He was using his face against his moirail. Even during pailing he didn’t remove his mask. The only time he ever did was after blindfolding and handcuffing the fuschia beneath him, ensuring there was no risk.

Toresce isn’t in any state to consent to this, he told himself, unsure if it was chastising or comforting.

Tori couldn’t consent because he was so sleep deprived he was probably hallucinating, so exhausted from constant self destructive workouts he was still shaking.

Toresce couldn’t consent because he wasn’t himself. He was going through one of the worst manic episodes Dia had ever witnessed.

Did that make it okay?

The sound of Toresce’s phone buzzing from the nightstand came inches away from giving Dia a pusher attack, shredding his contemplative thoughts into tissue paper.

Cursing, he took the phone in his hand. What was he doing? Maybe it was Khirti. It’s none of your business.

He pressed Toresce’s thumb to the home button.

It was a text. A number Toresce hadn’t bothered to add to his contacts. A quick glance at previous, unanswered messages, told him it was the operator of the Ring.

:Next match officially scheduled! You’ll love this one. Think it’s the hardest you’ve ever done. You up for it?:

Dia’s attention shifted to the bandages on his moirail’s hands, the emaciated state of his arms. If Toresce didn’t rest, that next match would be his last.

Dia wasn’t ready to lose his one string.

He returned his moirail’s phone to the nightstand, attention shifting back to the fuschia.

Toresce was completely high at this point. Dia could swear he felt the firm chest vibrating beneath him. He’d never heard Toresce purr before. He didn’t think he could.

Why was he still awake? Why wasn’t he asleep?

It had been so long. So long since anyone had seen his face for this long. Did he even remember what happened at this point? He was starting to get tired himself. No one had outlasted him before.

For once, the universe took pity on him. Toresce’s head lolled to the side as the combination of limeblood powers and exhaustion finally took hold of him. Fuck.

Dia had known his moirail was strong. That was obvious, even if he didn’t voice it. Toresce didn’t need more ego stroking. But it hadn’t occurred to him that he might be strong mentally well.

Figures. The man had the emotional intelligence of a wriggler, but still had the mental fortitude to almost outlast Dia’s abilities after a dozen hours of self destruction.

Jodiah sighed as he placed his mask back on, slipping down next to his moirail and hugging the finally soft body of his moirail close. With no manic episode to distract from exhaustion, it barely took a second before the limeblood was embraced by slumber.

It wasn’t a surprise that when Dia woke, 15 hours had passed. It was a surprise that Toresce was still sleeping.

Yes, sleeping. Though Dia had to check the fuschia’s pulse to be sure.

After a much needed shower and takeout, with an extra delivery of some saline and some needles, Jodiah got to work.

Necrol had taught him plenty of times how to do an IV. He’d learned when he still had hopes of being a medic and helping people.

Instead he was doing it to keep his dehydrated moirail from dying while in his mini coma.

At first, Jodiah was worried about buying a whole pack of needles. There wasn’t a damn option to get just one or two. But as he struggled to find a proper vein for fluids, he was relieved at the bulk buy. He’d been lucky enough not to have been around to drown in the depths of Toresce’s addiction, but it was only now that he realized how deep it actually went.

Median cubital. Nothing.

Accessory cephalic vein. Nothing.

Median antebrachial. Nothing.

Even his fucking dorsal venous. Nothing.

He would have felt more guilty about all the sticks if not for the fact that Toresce was out cold after keeping them both awake for the past…week? He’d lost track of time. Besides, Tori was a big boy. Not to mention he’d elected to do the same thing to himself for fucking sweeps by the state of his veins.

Knowing tossing the used needles on the bed could only result in bulge acupuncture later, he foolishly shoved them in his pocket. Necrol would be scolding him if she was around, but she wasn’t and at this point Dia was too tired to care about proper medical procedure.

Two left.

Dia grimaced. Fuck. He knew there was still options left. But he didn’t have enough needles to try them all.

He sighed and steeled himself, straddling his moirail’s chest as he slipped the needle into his jugular. It was stupid. So easy to slip it into the carotid, but Toresce was a fuschia he could take it and—

Got it.

Releasing the breath that he didn’t know he was holding, Jodiah sat back. He set up the rest of the IV, hanging the bag of saline on the headboard and double checking that it was sufficient. Toresce was a big guy, and seadwellers needed much more fluid than regular trolls. He was so dehydrated, it would probably be…bag and a half an hour? Fuck.

“I’m going to order a fucking seven course meal with your damn card. Lobster, filet mignon, most expensive champagne they have. Dickhead,” he muttered fondly.

—

The next day was mostly a blur of checking saline levels, cleaning up blood and needle packaging, anything to keep himself busy. While there was no way to feed an unconscious gladiator with the resources he had, Dia wasn’t overly concerned. Tori was not at a risk of starving to death. And thanks to his fucking moirail, not of dehydration, either.

By the time the sun rose, Dia was remembering how exhausted he’d been. Resuming his place next to his moirail, sleep took him once again.

This time, he woke up alone. The lime sat up with a start, eyes darting around the room in search for his missing moirail. It was late morning. Twelve hours after he’d fallen asleep. Who knows how many since Toresce woke up.

Almost leaping from the bed, he darted down the stairs in a panic, not even bothering to pull on clothes in case Toresce was—

Cooking.

He was cooking.

Standing by his seldom used stove, poking at scrambled eggs in a bit of a daze but otherwise looking much better than he had. The blender was half full of a smoothie almost as green as Dia’s blood, an empty glass next to it.

Toresce’s fin twitched and he turned his attention to his moirail. He was certainly more hydrated, definitely more rested. But he still looked…exhausted. More than just physically, and in ways he’d never seen.

“Hey. I made food.”

“…I didn’t think you knew how to use the stove,” is all Jodiah could think to say.

The annoyed eye roll he received as a response was surprisingly comforting. Toresce plated some eggs and bacon, offering a plate to his moirail before seating himself at the kitchen island.

In a bit of a daze, Jodiah took a seat next to his moirail.

They had both almost finished their food before Toresce spoke.

“Kit okay?” He asked, voice the softest Dia had ever heard from his moirail. If he still had a heart, it would have shattered.

“I think so…said she had a game and her teammates would be pissed if she missed it,” Dia lied smoothly. He knew better than telling Toresce she had become too exhausted to stay.

He couldn’t tell if Toresce bought it, the fuschia’s claws gently scratching one of his arms for a bit too long to be just for an itch. He stopped before Dia could ask, but not before light pink lines were left.

“Are…you okay?” Dia asked, voice hesitant. He didn’t expect an honest answer, and wasn’t entirely sure why he asked at all. Habit? Just an attempt to feel like a halfway decent moirail?

“Just…annoyed you had to deal with that. You probably had better shit to do than deal with my pan snapping in half,” he muttered, taking his empty plate to the sink, most likely to avoid meeting Dia’s eyes. He knew better than to argue with him, but also thought it best not to just let Toresce wallow in that.

“It’s what I’m here for, Toresce,” Jodiah explained carefully, picking his words like which wires to cut in a time bomb.

Toresce didn’t respond.

Thankfully, the rest of the day was much more relaxing than the few before it. Toresce wasn’t quite back to normal, still antsy and strangely itchy, but a far cry from the manic state he’d been earlier.

They watched movies that Toresce criticized, ate takeout that Dia pretended not to enjoy just for his moirail’s sake. The bickering seemed to relax him almost. It made Dia want to see the gladiator and his mate together. It was definitely a sight he hoped to see before he died. If Toresce would ever allow it.

That evening while spooning with Toresce and finishing off a very mediocre movie, he received a disappointing text. After reading it, he sighed and let his head fall onto his moirail’s shoulder.

“Lieutenant needledick wants me back tomorrow evening.”

“Is that the guy who’s plowing you or a different one?”

“Different one.”

Toresce grunted against the back of his moirail’s neck. “Douchebag.”

“Me or lieutenant needledick?”

Toresce didn’t respond. After a few beats, he pulled Dia closer.

“You gonna be back anytime soon? Chow’s off in another continent with one of his boy toys.”

“Guess we’ll find out,” he hummed. “Should take advantage of my presence now before you starve to death.”

With a smirk against his skin that made the lime shudder, Toresce pulled him closer to do just that.

The following evening, Dia woke first. Not too surprising, Toresce had been eager, the lime assumed, to make up for what he perceived as a show of weakness. That would be a project for the next visit.

As quiet as a mouse and with the expertise of someone very well practiced in such, Dia slipped free from his moirail to begin to dress.

Only once his pants were back on did he notice the full pocket. Frowning curiously, he reached in to investigate and only barely managed not to hiss in pain as a needle stuck him. Fuck.

Sneaking off to the bathroom, he emptied the collection of failed needles into the trash along with the packaging from earlier. Yep, he should’ve figured that would happen. He cursed his past self for being so stupid, but at least he had confidence that Toresce was far too careful to have risked infecting himself with a dirty needle. Still, he made a mental note to pop antibiotics like tic tacs once he was back in fleet territory.

As he gathered his things, the interrogator paused at the sight of a leftover saline bag. Should he take that back with him? The fleet had an abundance, sure, but he imagined Toresce would toss the thing anyway to avoid any reminder of his “weakness”. Idiot.

He gathered the unused medical supplies as quietly as he could. Transparent film dressing, unused tubing and needleless syringes for flushing IV lines.

Taking the almost empty box of needles next, he elected just to pour the last one out. No point in dragging the box back with him.

Instead of a needle, what tumbled out was another syringe.

Dia frowned. Did he put it back in the wrong spot by mistake? No, the rest were still in the right box. Maybe he just used all of them? He had been exhausted. No. Jodiah was sure there had been one more needle. There was one way to be sure.

Returning to the bathroom, he emptied the trash onto the floor as silently as he could to count the needles and packaging.

Nine needles.

Ten wrappers.

The lime felt his blood run cold. He counted again.

Nine needles. Ten wrappers.

Where was the tenth needle?

Dia checked behind the trash can. Back in the block. Shook out his pocket. Nothing.

It was an IV needle. He couldn’t use it. He didn’t have anything to connect it to or a place to stick it. Dia didn’t notice any fresh track marks. Would he have been able to tell the difference between the nine sticks he did and the one Toresce did? Where the fuck did he stick it, anyway?

Jodiah sat on the ground, head in his hand. Addicts found a way. They always did. And addicts with fuck loads of money were practically given a map. Dia had been neglectful. He left the box of needles out in plain fucking view. He left needles out in front of an addict. It was like leaving a steak in front of a starving dog and expecting that it won’t tear into it.

He didn’t know how long Toresce had been awake before Dia was that first morning. He thought it had just been an hour. Maybe two. Did it matter? He probably had the number memorized.

He knew how his moirails pan worked at this point. Knew how an addicts did. He just got the heroin. Just this once. No more needles, it was just a one time thing.

He only did it because it was there.

His phone buzzed.

He checked the text.

:Monark, shuttle leaves at 9. Bronze suspected of rebel activity. Interrogation room 3C.:

Dia stood, legs feeling hollow. He returned the trash to the basket and himself to the block of his sleeping moirail. Toresce had shifted since the line had left. His neck was more exposed now, the side where Dia had been forced to inject the IV needle. He knelt down, holding his breath to examine the small dot shaped wound, a small pink bruise around it.

About a half centimeter above it was a second dot. Toresce had used his own jugular to shoot heroin. He’d used the wound as a guide. He managed to slip an IV needle into one of the hardest veins for any medical professional to access, not to mention a regular fucking troll, and injected drugs into it. Dia had given him a damn map, and Tori had just followed it.

Dia finished shoving supplies into his bag, stopping dead when he heard Toresce shift.

“Lieutenant needledick getting impatient?” The gladiator muttered, voice thick with sleep.

“Yeah,” a robotic voice answered.

“Hopefully he’ll let you down after my match.”

“Hopefully,” the voice repeated. Dia pulled his bag over his shoulder.

“Another interrogation?”

“Yeah.”

The block was silent except for the shuffle of Dia’s bag and clothes as he headed to the door.

He heard the blankets shift and glanced over his shoulder to his moirail, exhausted pink eyes watching him closely. Studying him. Dia did the same in return. Even through the red of his visor, he could tell that the normally bright eyes of his moirail were a bit duller.

He turned his attention back to the door, turning the knob and opening it, only pausing when his moirail spoke.

“Dia?”

“Yeah?”

Toresce paused.

“Your face doesn’t have to just be for interrogations, you know.”

Jodiah didn’t respond.

[funkymbtifiction]

The thing that i find in fi users, is that they perfectly resonate with what it means to be a balanced and mature human being. Emotionally, intellectually, spiritually just 'being'. Being so self sustained and self accepting, knowing how to be humble without being timid or self deprecating.

There is a tendency in feelers to idolize, romanticize, and envy people who appear to do what they wish they could do themselves. When I see a strong Fe adjust to someone, listen to them and tell them what they need to hear (adjusting their message to the person who needs it) in a gentle, supportive manner, I compare it to my own blunt, forceful style and wish I could connect to people that well. I have to remind myself to be more like a Fe and think about what YOU need to hear, because my default style is to just address the problem in a Te manner. Truth is, not all Fe users can do this, and so if I expect it from all of them, I will be disappointed. Not all Fi users are what you have described; some of them are insecure, self-absorbed, and neurotic. It's fine to look up to certain people, while also realizing they are flawed, but if you expect every Fi you meet to be a shining beacon of effortless self-confidence and virtue, you will be disappointed.

You envy their ability to separate from others, because you do not know how to do it yourself; but many of them envy Fe for being able to connect so easily to other people in a way the other person can understand.

So as an Fe user, how could I be so self assured, sustained that i don't feed off another person, other's energy and or take them or their aspects or emotions and feelings as parts of me, my identity. If i really like something of them, i want to be like them, knowing that they like it and thus are choosing to assimilate it into oneself but by one's own decision.

It's helpful for Fe's to learn to use Ti to analyze and determine, am I feeling this because it is how I feel or because they are feeling it? To develop a sense of separation through learning to tell what is me and what is them, and to lean more into "me" in a way that is supportive of them, without absorbing their feelings into mine. For example, if what you really want to do is connect to someone, you have to be separate from them to do it, in order to meet them on the level they need from you. And you have to develop enough emotional intelligence to tell the difference. Some instances mean just holding someone and crying with them; in others, they need reassurances and encouragement; sometimes, they need a kick in the butt. A Fe that is developed properly will not only figure out which one needs done for this person, but how to do it in a way that they will accept -- that does not come across as abrasive or insulting. You have heard the adage of trapping more flies with honey than vinegar; you can tell someone something in a way that doesn't offend them, that is soft and accepted, and that is what Fe does best. But it has to stop thinking about itself long enough to switch their line of thinking to "what does this person need to hear, and HOW do they need to hear it?"

It's fine to emulate the people you admire. We all learn through identifying what traits are admirable to us and developing them; humans are creatures that copy each other -- babies learn to eat by being fed and then watching mommy and doing it themselves; there is no shame in saying, "I like this about this person, I want to be that way" and making it part of yourself. Just do not become a copy of them. Take what you like about them and figure out how to make it yours. (This person is really optimistic and I love that about them -- how can I choose to incorporate happiness into my life? This person is more self confident than I am. What can I learn from them? Maybe not to apologize prematurely or self-deprecate!) etc.

You can't change your type, but you can become a better and healthier version of your type. And part of that means learning to love and accept yourself for your virtues, not focus too much on longing for the traits you do not possess, and forgiving your mistakes.

[sereniv]

Hi hello !! I met another afro indigenous person yesterday who says she’s reconnecting also. I’m so happy to have another afro indigenous person to talk to but I also don’t feel very mutual with her if that makes sense? We’ve been trying to reconnect around the same amount time but when talking to her the vibes just feel very off. Maybe our goal isn’t the same or maybe it’s because different situations. Maybe with time we’ll bond more. But as of right now idk. I hate being weary of people or anything but I kinda am with her and I hate feeling like I’m questioning someones identity of intentions. Maybe it’s just anxiety.-🦪

I am so happy for you! but it also sucks you ended up feeling that way, but i feel you

And it could just be you guys dont click. I know that ive wanted to connect with people and i just dont click at all and it sucks bc it would be benifitial to me but you dont want to feel like its a chore yknow?

Definitely wait it out because you never know, but dont stick talkin to someone if youre not feeling it. bc youl just get anxious everytime they message you with the feeling of obligatory to message back

But yeah its hard when you come across someone whos goal is different, but i know for me a lot of people might think my reconnecting goal is simply to have the title of native. Bc of no context or little context, or the stuff i say

so it coulr also be this person may seem to not have the right goals or whatever the problem is, but that you just dont have all the context

bc i know i say words that dont exactly describe what i mean. Like saying the sun is too loud, instead of too bright.

It can come off as way different than one intended it.

Its just never easy. because you talk to someone who is "ahead" of you, it can feel like their "better" than you. or someone is just starting, and thus cant give you much like info or even personal experience

and even when someone is at the same level, it still as you know, can feel different. And yeah like of course do what you can

and dont feel bad if it doesnt work out with this person. You can have a kinship but it doesnt mean you have to take in everything every chance you get- basically, just bc you have this opportunity that youve been wanting, its not bad to decline it

For example, i want to learn Yoem Noki (Yaqui language) and there are zoom meetings for learning

i dont make those. i dont try anymore, and in thr beginning i felt bad bc. i have this opportunity that ive been wanting, its right there, and "me not taking it must mean i dont care enough "

but our anxiety and problems dont just go away no matter how much we want something. And so you have to be kind to yourself and accept that sometimes that opportunity isnt for you

and it really sucks! bc of course im sure you wanted this to work out. but you have to think of your wellbeing

Again tho id say give it a little time, but usually we can tell when a friendship isnt going to work out, or evene be close.

Also dont feel bad! its okay to be wary. But its easy for me to say bc im not in your current position

but if i was, i know id tell someone "be confident blah blah" but at the end of the day, when youre more in it than the other person its just hard to engage. it feels small? it feels like a nervous laugh.

Just remember your goals and your needs. You are loved and appreciated and welcome by the all the people who matter. Think of the people before you that got you here

their laughter, their songs, their heartache. And assimilation, colonialism, racism.

Feel all those emotions of warmth of love and anger to find your confidence. if that makes ANY sense lol. Like when youre alone with yourself and you think of the opportunities you have and dont go through with, or you feel isolated, just know yourself

that youre trying and thats literally all you need to do.

and all this matters, having that self confidence, because it makes situations like this more bareable. Have someone who you can relate to but dont vibe with? Inner confidence will allow you to not feel bad about it. Have the opportunity to take a class on learning thr language but have too much anxiety? You inner confidence will help you not feel bad. Oh well, maybe next time. Thats what you want to feel

So dont feel bad for being wary. It doesnt have to be seen as questioning intentions, see it as protecting yourself.

Because questioning their intentions isnt bad. doing that is to make sure youre not wasting your time, or getring to invested in someone

If anything you can out right ask them what their goals are. or milestones or what they want to feel. Not as an interogation but as naturally curious.

sorry for all the words i dont mean to send you novels

but yeah im so happy for you, but im sorey that you feel wary. If in the end you trail off from that person dont feel bad. Either they are a pretendian, or they just have a different path that doesnt conenct with you

My precious friend you will be okay i know it. Its going to be hard, maybe forever. But you WILL be somewhere different every step of the way

You will feel confident one day. you will find people like you one day. one day you are going to look in the mirror and everything will have settled in

in the beginning, especially as a black indigenous person, reconnecting is hard and rocky and awkward. and sometimes downright ugly and hurtful

but you take as long as you need to get there. wherever /there/ is.

for me, my first goal was confidence. and its taken a few years (unless you count my whole life up until now (29)) to find that confidence

but i still have goals. i am not /there/ yet. But i remind myself that i am not going to be on my death bed, looking back to now, sad that i didnt do anything- not exactly the right word but

like im not going to feel bad for anxiety. i feel confident. I declare i have anxiety and i declare that it stops me from doing things i want.

Im shy and i own it. I cant talk to elders, i cant connect with people i want to. And thats okay. It sucks and it hurts me. Its a negative thing, but ive tried my best. And thats all anyone needs to know or care about

You are Mvskoke. No one can take that from you. They cant deny the people who lived before you, that died. whos assimilation or whos colonialism ended up making you disconnected.

No one gets to tell you to ignore your anxiety or shyness or any thing like that. Because you know it, it is disabiling. But the focus is you are Mvskoke. You arent trying to be, you are.

Thats why its called reconnecting. We are already connected, we are taking back what was taken through colonialism and assimilation

So with this person, dont feel bad about how you feel. you are simply trying to protect yourself.

Do what you feel is best, and accept your anxieties role in that if it has a role. But dont feel bad. You are doing just fine ❤️

[dbs-superleggera]

How to Imprint on Girls between the Ages of 18-22

Imprint Definition

(of a young animal) come to recognize (another animal, person, or thing) as a parent or other object of habitual trust

Offering Maslow Hierarchy of Needs (Pimps Use This)

Self-actualization Needs

Self-actualization needs are the highest level in Maslow's hierarchy, and refer to the realization of a person's potential, self-fulfillment, seeking personal growth and peak experiences. Maslow (1943) describes this level as the desire to accomplish everything that one can, to become the most that one can be.

Psychological Needs

Esteem needs are the fourth level in Maslow’s hierarchy and include self-worth, accomplishment and respect. Maslow classified esteem needs into two categories: (i) esteem for oneself (dignity, achievement, mastery, independence) and (ii) the desire for reputation or respect from others (e.g., status, prestige).

Love and belongingness needs - after physiological and safety needs have been fulfilled, the third level of human needs is social and involves feelings of belongingness. Belongingness, refers to a human emotional need for interpersonal relationships, affiliating, connectedness, and being part of a group

Basic Needs

Safety needs - once an individual’s physiological needs are satisfied, the needs for security and safety become salient. People want to experience order, predictability and control in their lives. These needs can be fulfilled by the family and society (e.g. police, schools, business and medical care).

Physiological needs - these are biological requirements for human survival, e.g. air, food, drink, shelter, clothing, warmth, sex, sleep.

Strategies

First Date Completion

Show her the tip: study lots of things and tease your knowledge by starting conversations on different topics

The In and Out: try and get her number in 5 minutes. This mentality will cut down long conversations being filled with science

End on a high note: if you see the end coming during a good conversation say you have an appointment to get to and ask for her number

Date: Actually talk about those things

7 Easy Ways To Show Extreme Confidence

Frame Control

Frames: the unspoken context that dictates the rules of any interaction (example: someone asking you “tell me about yourself” at an interview compare to a party). Who ever controls has power.

Control The Frame With Your Body Language & Tone: You control people by entering big and brash. By doing this you establish the frame by having the other person react to your emotional state. You can also control a frame when responding slower and subdued when someone directs you to do something. Take your time; you don’t have to jump because somebody said so. When in conflict and someone you’re talking to is losing control and getting angry stay calm and do not rise to it. Tonality is When telling someone to do something tell them with a lower inflection. When making something more inviting speak with a higher inflection. For charisma, setting a higher energy frame is best for entrances and greetings. Slower and less reactive frame is better in moments in conflict

When In Confrontation, Attack The Frame, Not The Content: Challenging the content means you accept the frame and need to defend yourself. Shifting the framing is a verbal way of taking back control. This is done through the heart of quick wit. The simple act of not defending goes a long way. In fact the less you focus on defending yourself the better your banter will become.

Have The Belief That You Are Not There To Impress: When someone who’s working with you try to belittle you, remind them that you can leave. Don’t attack the person attack the frame. Shifting your mindset to “this person needs me to partner with them” this mindset will allow you to push back when needed, you’ll give better advice, and sub communicate a powerful position they’re more likely to associate with. Rather than to work for the praise of my partners, allow them to work for yours; compliment them when they impress you. When people have been accepted to something exclusive it makes them accept it much more if they were simply sold into that thing

Become an expert at framing people’s options: Give them 2 options the thing they don’t want to do and the thing you want to do. Control the menu which is to say you control the options that are only available in anyone’s mind. The person who controls the menu controls the outcome.

Socratic Method*: The Socratic method (also known as method of Elenchus, elenctic method, or Socratic debate) is a form of cooperative argumentative dialogue between individuals, based on asking and answering questions to stimulate critical thinking and to draw out ideas and underlying presuppositions.

Create Options For Yourself: In any negotiation the person with the better second option is going to win they can afford to care less

6 Psychological Tricks to Read Anyone

Increase Self-Awareness: Notice when you're forming or changing opinions of other people. When you don't know someone you don't have an opinion on them. You don't trust them or distrust them, like them or hate them, it's just neutral to you. After you talk to someone for the first time within the first five minutes your going to force a strong opinion about them. You don't know this person, you don't know what they're saying is true and you don't know their resume. You need to get good at forming opinions.

Find Where Their Attention Is (eye contact is huge): Are their eyes making contact with and is their body facing yours. Are they asking or answering engaging questions?

Get Good at Identifying Micro-Expressions: Get good at recognizing when someone is trying to hide an expression. Look for momentary loss of control to hide expression.

Identify Common Patterns: Look for consistency in the way people engage with you.

Make Predictions Based on People's Body Language: Start making predictions. Foreshadow what you think is going to happen in a conversation. You can do this through how people talk to you versus others.

Experiment In Your Own Life

VICE SCRIPT MOVEMENT

[nervousprincepanda]

Asperger's Vs. Autism: Everything You Need To Know

What Is Asperger Syndrome?

The shape that intervention takes will depend upon the specific case. "As soon as we make a medical diagnosis of ASD, then there are several things we want to do," Challman says. "One, obviously, is constantly to acknowledge the strengths of the person. Some of these distinctions that we're trying to recognize may have an impact on child's operating now or in the future, but they're typically coexisting with things the kid is doing quite well.

Autism is a really diverse condition, and as such, it is typically described as being a "spectrum" disorder which incorporates several types of special needs, all of which can affect distinct people differently. When it pertains to differentiating the different kinds of "high performance" autism, one can experience difficulties, as the level of impairment is itself less obvious, and its effects are therefore more subtle and hard to distinguish.

Asperger's Vs. Autism: What Exactly Is The Difference?

Asperger's happened seen as a more "positive" medical diagnosis, with less social preconception attached to it, producing some controversy around the frequency with which it was afterwards utilized. Some argument still exists today around the: Asperger's is normally accepted as presenting without significant disabilities to cognitive function, indicating that the patient is generally found to have no extra learning impairment and an IQ that is typical or greater.

The lines in between these two conditions stay blurred, and no doubt will end up being better understood with time (potentially leading to the dissolution of one term, or more specific terms and criteria). At present, we understand that both those with high-functioning autism and Asperger's syndrome deal with the same few areas of impairment common to all kinds of autism, and that individuals in both groups function with an average or above average intelligence.

Difference Between Asperger's And High Functioning Autism

All patients on the autism spectrum present with unique symptoms, so understanding really should happen at an individual level irrespective of medical diagnosis. That being said, if somebody you appreciate has one kind of autism, it's beneficial to look into the spectrum as a whole so regarding gain a comprehensive understanding of the condition.

I will respond to the question of how accurate a medical diagnosis is, the self-confidence one can have in a medical diagnosis of Asperger's and I will go over the advantages and downsides of having a medical diagnosis. Detecting Asperger's is a relatively easy procedure in concept. In practice it is made complex and needs a professional who understands thoroughly not simply the characteristics of Asperger's but how they are played out in real life.

Difference Between Asperger's And High Functioning Autism

In reality, individuals with Asperger's behave in numerous various ways and not constantly precisely how it is defined. Someone with Asperger's can be rather smart and have mastery over many facts, yet have much less understanding feelings and how they are revealed. The individual might be able to recognize standard feelings, such as extreme anger, sadness or happiness yet do not have an understanding of more subtle expressions of feelings such as confusion, jealousy or worry.

Counting on a partner's or good friend's report about how someone recognizes feelings is not constantly recommended given that those reports are infiltrated the partner or buddies' own predispositions and their own methods of comprehending emotions. The only method to inform is to be around someone long enough to experience what they are like, to see how they react in circumstances that check the functions of Asperger's and ask the ideal type of questions to clarify whether they have those functions.

Asperger's Vs. Autism: Everything You Need To Know

Brain scans, blood tests, X-rays and other physical exams can not inform whether anybody has Asperger's. The bottom line is that Asperger's is a detailed diagnosis. An individual is detected based on the signs and symptoms she or he has rather than the results of a particular laboratory or other type of test.

It is all a matter of self-confidence, that is, with really couple of exceptions nobody can say that someone else has Asperger's only that one has a particular degree of certainty that a person does have Asperger's. With this in mind, what is the actual process of learning whether someone has Asperger's? Other professionals might take various actions but I have a specific treatment that I go through when asked to examine Asperger's.

Asperger's Syndrome Vs. High-functioning Autism

The assessment process itself is time consuming and it can be pricey. Why go through with it if there is no excellent reason to presume there might be some likelihood of discovering the behaviors and signs of Asperger's? After all, you would not go to the problem of examining whether you have a broken foot if, in the first location, there is absolutely nothing wrong with your foot.

[alienidentities-f22a]

Character Analysis of Michael Geurin

Roswell, New Mexico has presented us with an array of strong memorable leading characters, so choosing a favorite among the dessert cowboys, hard-headed women, and aliens was quite a challenge. Michael Geurin still managed to stick out to me; his complex role as an outsider is intriguing as he goes through a great deal of character development throughout season one. We have been taught that our favorite characters are those we feel most akin to, but I feel rather the opposite. He is my favorite because I am infatuated by the way his past has impacted his future to be the person, well alien, he is today. Michael Geurin presents himself as the rebel, always looking to swoop in to add comic relief to any situation. He is the ultimate outsider in most aspects of his life. To start, he is an alien living on earth in complete secrecy. Michael's past is completely unbeknown to him as he struggles to navigate a new planet while practically spawning out of a pod at age seven. Roswell, in particular, is rather conservative and filled with prejudice and bigotry. They do not like anyone from other countries let alone another planet. This pushed Michael to live like an outsider, residing in a run-down trailer and scraping together money as a mechanic. Michael's alienation, rocky upbringing, and sexuality have attributed to Michael's life as an outsider.  

When Michael, Max, and Isabelle emerged from the pods all they had were each other. They were blind to where they had come from, their own parents, and the powers they were capable of. But then, Michael was left all alone. As young kids they were brought forth in search of a permanent home in the community. Max and Isabelle got lucky and were adopted together as twins, but this left Michael all alone at the hands of the foster system. It is something he rarely speaks about, but we do hear mentions of drunken drug addicts who valued the money from the system over a son. This lack of a real family later came to impact his self-worth and ability to be loved. Michael is often described as a "genius" and has the mechanical knowledge to build or fix anything, even another UFO. Yet even after receiving an acceptance to college he refuses to go. He would rather take Isobel's spot as a murder suspect because in both instances he lacks the confidence to believe that he deserves any better. 

Michael is also further pushed aside as an outsider due to him identifying as bisexual. Roswell is not a progressive town and Michael lacked supportive parents to push him to be himself. This further exiled him from the societal norms revealing his more angsty side, especially in his teenage years. The lack of family and home environment has also bled into Michael's relationships, specifically with Alex Manes. These star-crossed lovers were denied a true relationship due to Michael's inability to connect with Alex on a deeper level. He never felt that he deserved love, only stolen moments in trailers and behind closed doors. Even throughout season one, Isobel and Max often reference the plethora of unsustained partners that would frequent Michael and his trailer. All of Michael's characteristics of an outsider can all be traced back to the lack of family and decent upbringing he received as a child. 

[nepenthendline]

A Characterisation/Writing Guide - Autism and ADHD

Hi everyone! This post is going to be a guide on how to accurately write characters with Autism and ADHD. I have been so many works where Autism and ADHD have been terribly written - using so many stereotypes and just nonsense that has nothing to do with neurodivergences, so I hope this helps educate writers and give them more confidence to write such characters.

For reference, I have Autism and ADHD, as well as many friends with either, therefore this information is coming directly from a neurodivergent.

This guide will be split into three parts: characterisation in both Autism and ADHD, Autism chracterisation and ADHD characterisation. This being because Autism and ADHD, while two different disorders, do have some overlaps. 

TERMS:

Neurodivergent - describes those differing in mental or neurological function from what is considered typical or normal

Neurotypical - describes those who are considered normal and do not differ in mental or neurological function

NOTE - Not everyone is the same. Everyone is different and will act and feel in different ways, this is simply an overview of how Autism and ADHD typically can be characterised

MUTUAL CHARACTERISATION OF AUTISM AND ADHD:

As mentioned before, both Autism and ADHD do have overlapping traits that can make them look similar at times, although it is important to remember they are two very different disorders. 

Autism and ADHD are NOT mental illnesses or learning disabilities. They are neurological disorders that people are born with, and cannot be treated or cured. Neurodivergents can learn techniques to help manage their difficulties, however. It is important to note that while these are not mental illnesses, it is very common for neurodivergents to have mental illnesses (particularly anxiety or depression) or struggle with learning as a result of their difficulties.

MASKING:

Masking is a technique that neurodivergents develop in order to act or speak in a way that is ‘socially acceptable’ or neurotypical by observing and replicating neurotypicals in different situations. This includes subjects such as not stimming/keeping still, not saying particular things, following social cues, speaking with specific tones at specific times and so on. 

Not every neurodivergent will mask but most do. Everyone does this to a different extent; some mask 24/7 to the point where you would barely be able to recognise any ‘abnormal’ traits, whereas others only mask in more serious or professional situations and let loose around friends or family. It is up to you as the writer to decide how your character will mask, however there tend to be some trends. For example, those with high-function Autism (especially girls) are much better maskers than low-functioning Autism (especially boys).

Masking is exhausting; it takes a lot of effort to, essentially, act as a completely different person for the entire day. This does not mean that neurodivergents are two-faced in any aspect however. Neurodivergents simply tweak their existing personalities to ‘fit in’ with the people or situation. 

Masking in writing:

It is quite difficult to write masking as the person is essentially just acting like ‘normal’. However, there are some things you can include that help demonstrate masking:

 Adapted stims* that are much smaller and undetectable than a person’s usual stims, such as fiddling with their fingers or edge of their sleeve, looking around often or slight movements such as swaying or playing with jewellery they are wearing 

 Speaking more or less than usual and with much more changes in their pitch and tone

Slight cracks in a character’s masking, such as stimming when others aren’t looking, not holding eye-contact when speaking, face or tone falling flat at points

*Stims will be explained in the next section

STIMMING:

Stimming refers to self-stimulating, repetitive behaviours that are done to often calm a person down when in stress, or to show high levels of emotion such as happiness. Both neurodivergents and neurotypicals stim, however there are some difference. 

The most common examples of stims are bouncing your leg when sitting in a chair, clicking your pen repeatedly or tapping on a table, which are things that most people have done at some point. The difference is that neurodivergents have a lot less control over their stims, and they tend to be much ‘bigger’, louder, distracting or harmful. It is also much more difficult for a neurodivergent to stop or ‘hold in’ their stims, causing more stress and agitation. Some people have small stims like fiddling with their hands, others have much bigger stims like waving their arms around, and some have harmful stims such as scratching or banging their head against a wall. 

Stimming in writing:

If you are ever asked to write about how a character would help someone else/a reader with their stimming, please never ever write about the character stopping the other person/reader. This is extremely harmful for the stimming character and projects a view that stimming is bad or ‘naughty’, and many people have faced trauma over being forced to stopped stimming as it is seen as disrespectful or distracting. Stimming is often one of the only ways neurodivergents can clearly express their emotions. If you stop a stim, the person will simply stim in another way. Instead, try these ways:

Stim toys that the character can use, these are often small and discrete, and can allow the character to stim without harmful, loud or large movements

Distracting the character with something else, possibly an activity, something to hold, or audio/visual distractions

Reassure the character that these stims are ok and they are safe to do around other characters

Take notice of the situation the character is in, why are they stimming? Are they anxious? Are they excited? It is better to prevent the situation in the case of stress rather than try and stop the person from stimming, and allow the character to stim when feeling happy

In romantic situations, allowing the character to stim with their partner shows high levels of trust and acceptance, and it is also comforting for the stimming character to often use aspects of their partner to stim, such as playing with their partner’s fingers or hair

Exercise is a great way of helping those who stim often to release pent up energy

Stimmers can trigger other stimmers, so if you have two stimmers in a room together, chances are they will stim together, getting louder and bigger than usual

SENSORY SENSITIVTY:

Both those with Autism and/or ADHD tend to struggle with sensory sensitivity. This describes how people are easily affected by sensory input (sight, sound, taste, touch and smell). Most cases of sensory sensitivity end in distress, fear, panic and overload, however there are some people who feel comforted by high levels of sensory input. When people deal with too much sensory input, they often go into a ‘meltdown’. This is different for everyone, but often includes irritability, panic, shutting themselves off from others, extreme stimming and a feeling of being severely overwhelmed. Some people cannot speak at all during these episodes. while others may shout or make noises. They are often mistaken for tantrums, bad behaviour or just being grumpy. Young people tend to have much more active meltdowns, such as shouting, stimming, running off etc, however older people (especially girls) then to be more quiet, shut off and unable to continue speaking or doing tasks. That being said, everyone is different and anyone can have a different meltdown. 

Sensory sensitivity in writing: 

The best way to describe sensory sensitivity in writing is relating it to pain or panic. Often those with low tolerance to sensory input describe loud noises, for example, as physical pain in their head, or certain materials as making them feel faint or nauseous. 

Sensory sensitivity relates to any sense, so some people may be terrified of certain noises, feel panicked by certain smells or feelings or feel sick/vomit from certain tastes - please understand the severity of this for some people

Neurodivergents often find techniques to help them with this, such as wearing noise cancelling headphones or playing music or audio to distract them

The best way to help someone during a meltdown is to help them out of the situation and leave them to decompress. This might include letting them sit in a dark room for a while, laying in silence or touching an item/smelling something that brings them comfort

Describing a meltdown for a character can often be similarly written like a panic attack, and often meltdowns can lead to panic attacks for some people, such as an increased heart rate, sweating, crying, hyperventilating/heavy breathing etc.

Struggling to write sensory overload? Try and think how you would feel if you had 30 different voices screaming at you at once, with bright lights and super itchy clothing. Really panicked, scared and overwhelmed right? 

Those who are sensitive to sensory input often hear/feel/smell/see things much louder/easier/more extreme than others, so while something may be quiet to one person, it seems really loud to another

HABITS AND COMPLUSIONS

Neurodivergences come with a lot of habits and compulsions, somewhat similar to traits of OCD. These are things such as having to have particular routines, having to carry certain items with them at all times (mine are my BTS water bottle and earphones lol). Without fulfilling these habits, compulsions and comfort items, a person can become extremely stressed, panicked and overloaded. 

Habits and compulsions in writing:

Writing these can go from very subtle to extreme, it could be that someone has to get ready in the morning in a particular order, eat their food in a certain way/order or follow a particular route to get somewhere

The odd thing is that neurodivergents are actually pretty bad at developing habits, a neurodivergent could do the same thing over and over every single day, but completely forget to do it one day and never do it again

When writing for characters, some characters may be able to mask their distress when their habits/compulsions are not fulfilled, however others can not do so at all, but either way this sends the character into feeling of panic and distress

A character may develop certain habits/compulsions for different reasons, it could be from experiences, completely random, comforting senses or familiarity and fear 

For example when walking into my nearest town I have to walk a very specific route on a specific side of the road or I freak out, this is because it’s what I’m used to and I struggle to deal with change

Speaking of change, a character can be written as anxious or irritated when plans are changed

SPECIAL INTERESTS/HYPER-FIXATIONS:

Probably my favourite topic - neurodivergents often develop special interests and hyper-fixations. These relate to specific subjects or activities that a person will learn about or engage in with extreme focus and dedication. Some common examples are trains and butterflies, where a person will learn and memorise  every type of train, or every type of butterfly to exist, and how different trains work or the life cycles of butterflies. This can be of any topic though, as a child my personal special interest was Ancient Egypt and I spent all of my free time learning about the history. As I’ve gotten older, this has changed and my hyper-fixations have been mostly BTS and Haikyuu (with some short ones in between). 

Special interests/hyper-fixations in writing:

Info-dumping! Characters with special interests can often be written with moments of info-dumping, where they will talk about their special interest for a long period of time to someone else. They are often very excited, talk quickly and possibly even seem a little frantic when trying to explain their interest - this is something they have little control over and tend to talk for too long or at inappropriate times 

Stereotypes are often written in special interests, particularly the example I gave about trains - not every neurodivergent likes trains, please be creative when thinking about what special interest your character may have, if they have one at all

A character may have one long-standing special interest that they’ve been learning about for many years, or they can flutter between multiple hyper-fixations in the span of a few days

Hyper-fiaxtions can affect a character in ways such as forgetting to eat or sleep, forgetting to do other commitments or becoming extremely upset, stressed or unmotivated when that interest is no longer doable (such as if a TV series ends)

Some characters may be embarrassed about their interests, whereas others will happily info-dump with no concerns 

FRIENDSHIPS AND RELATIONSHIPS

Both Autism and ADHD can cause difficulties in making and keeping friendships or relationships. This is often due to struggles in communication, forgetting to speak to people, getting bored of social interaction, getting overwhelmed and feeling too ‘different’ from everyone else. Some people, however, can make friends every easily, particularly more extroverted and confident types. Autistics in particular tend to have small groups of friends that they feel truly comfortable with, and may struggle to understand why a person needs other friends/ a large group. This can lead to feelings of ejectment or jealously. A neurodivergent will often struggle to know how a person feels about them without being directly told, and will need frequent reassurance that this feeling is continuous. 

AUTISM CHARACTERISATIONS

Talking too much or very little - about 40% of people with Autism are mute, meaning they cannot speak. Characters could also be selectively mute, meaning they can only speak in situations they are comfortable with, or certain people

Autism is a communication disorder, majorly affecting a person’s ability to communicate and understand socialisation. Here is how to characterise Autism:

NOTE - I have used functioning labels here as, personally, I prefer to use them and is more often used where I am from, however some people prefer not to, please keep this in mind

Speaking out of turn - this is either because they do not understand the social cue of waiting until someone else has finished to talk, or because they will forget what is on their mind if they don’t say it immediately

Taking jokes or words literally - this can cause character’s to become distressed when they do not understand a joke, or end up doing a task that was not meant to happen because they took a conversation literally. This also include having difficulty understanding figures of speech such as ‘it’s raining cats and dogs’

Having difficulty understanding the rules of social interactions - this covers a range of things, from struggling to know what to say when speaking to a cashier at a store, to not knowing what to say in certain situations. An example of this is if someone said ‘hi, my name is ....”, the social cue is to respond with ‘hello, it’s nice to meet you, my name is ...”, however those with Autism tend not to understand this and may reply with something else. In my experiences, I often panic and say ‘thank you’ instead, despite this not being the ‘correct’ reply

Expressing the wrong emotions - Autism makes it very difficult to understand emotions, either from others or expressing them yourself. While others immediately know a smile means someone is happy, this is not something that is easy to understand in Autism. An autistic person may laugh or smile during negative situations, or look upset or mad in happy situations as they are either unaware of how they are carrying their body language, or simply do not know what body language fits with what emotion

Difficulty understanding emotion of others - whether it be verbal or non-verbal, it can be very difficult for those with Autism to understand what others are feeling and can often jump to the wrong conclusions

Using the wrong tone of voice or having a ‘robotic’ tone - For the same reason as the last point, those with Autism tend to either sound robotic at times, or use the wrong tone in the wrong situations, such as sounding angry when they are not, however they are often unaware of this when it happens. This also means they tend to be more blunt and literal in their own speech

Not understanding hints - those with Autism often need to be spoken to very directly as they struggle to understand hints or ‘read between the lines’. This could be anywhere from not understanding hints of romantic feelings, to someone mentioning that the trash is getting too full (as a hint that it needs to be taken out)

Difficulty with focus and following lists - this is an overlap with ADHD however the reasoning is often different, autistic people are often perfectionists, so if you give them a list of things to remember, they will focus so hard on remembering the first thing correctly that they forget the rest. Difficulty to focus is often due to a lack of interest in the topic 

Attention to detail and ‘all or nothing’ - Autistic people are great at paying attention to small details and often focus on that more than the big picture. They are also very ‘all or nothing’ with how they delegate their focus, if they are interested in something they will put their entire energy and focus into it until its perfect, if they aren’t interested? They probably wont do it at all, this often means that some Autistic people struggle academically because they don’t feel interested in the topics, and therefore have no motivation to do the work

Great at following rules and instructions - despite being bad at lists, Autistic people tend to be good at following rules, this is because they are often black and white, literal and easy to understand, they like structure!

Increased skills and abilities - those with autism are often more creative and intelligent in a wide variety of skills that neurotypicals, in fact to be diagnosed with high-functioning autism, you must have a higher-than-average IQ. Unfortunately the stereotype is that Autistics are dumb or stupid - this is not the case at all

Boys vs girls - everyone is different, however boys and girls tend to act very differently. Boys tend to be more extroverted and loud and particularly struggle with understanding emotions or talking in turn. Girls tend to be more introverted, quiet and can mask much better, but struggle more when knowing if it is acceptable to speak

No empathy? - this is what people often relate to Autism, however this is inaccurate. People with Autism can and do feel empathy, however it tends to be slightly different. For example, if a neurotypical told another neurotypical about a bad situation they went through, the other person would often reply with ‘I’m sorry that happened to you, I hope you feel better soon”. A neurodivergent, however, would often reply like this, “something similar happened to me once.....”. This often comes across rude to neurotypicals, however it is much easier for a neurodivergent to relate the person’s feeling to their own experiences, and share comfort by letting the person know they are not alone

Difficulty with eye contact -  good body language often explains that eye contact is key, however this is extremely difficulty for neurodivergents 

Forgetfulness - to be honest I don’t know why this is, autistics are just really forgetful. You need to repeatedly tell them to do something or they wont do it

Planning - autistics often need and enjoy planning their schedule. They find comfort in knowing exactly when, where and how things are happening and with who 

Shyness and introverted? - many autistics will be shy, introverted and struggle with social anxiety, but this is not the case for everyone. A person can be autistic and be super confident, loud and extroverted - it is a stereotype that being autistic makes you shy and quiet

REMEMBER - AUTISM IS A SPECTRUM DISORDER MEANING PEOPLE CAN RANGE FROM MILD TO SEVERE TRAITS, NOT EVERYONE WILL HAVE EVERY SINGLE TRAIT

AUTISM STEREOTYPES:

Everyone likes trains

They are rude and blunt

They are stupid/unintelligent

They cannot understand rules

They cannot feel empathy

They are quiet and shy

They are disruptive 

AD(H)D CHARACTERISATION

ADHD is a condition that affects the focus and attention of a person. Here’s how to characterise someone with ADHD:

Not everyone is hyperactive - firstly, the ‘hyperactive’ part of ADHD doesn’t often mean physically hyperactive, but a person can have ADD where they do not show hyperactive traits

Difficulty focusing - this is much more than just not being able to focus, there are many reasons as to why this is, including getting distracted easily (by external sources or their own thoughts). finding it difficult to understand social interactions, feeling overwhelmed

Hyperfocusing - on the flip side, ADHD can cause people to hyperfocus on certain things, where it takes all their time and energy and they forget to do other things such as eat or sleep

Difficulty with eye contact -  good body language often explains that eye contact is key, however this is extremely difficulty for neurodivergents 

Speaking out of turn - this is either because they do not understand the social cue of waiting until someone else has finished to talk, or because they will forget what is on their mind if they don’t say it immediately

Difficulties controlling emotions and mood swings - this is often comes out in anger and frustration. This can be for various reasons: they are frustrated that they cannot focus like others, a lack of motivation, get easily stressed and insecurity

Restlessness - this is often seen as being always ‘on the go’, they need to be busy at all times doing different activities. In writing this can be shown as excessive talking, fidgeting, getting bored easily or taking risks

Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria - this is an emotional response to rejection or criticism which often looks like insecurity and anxiety. This could be real rejection, or perceived rejection, for example someone saying they are too busy to hang out may trigger an emotional response of rejection, low mood and anxiety in someone with ADHD. This can also lead to anger or panic, and causes people to become ‘people pleasers’ or not try at all

Poor organisation - the opposite of Autism where those with ADHD struggle with planning, organising, misplacing items and keeping things tidy. It is difficult to understand priorities, separate relevant and irrelevant information and time management. Those with ADHD often begin tasks and do not finish them due to restlessness, distractions or feeling overwhelmed by the task

Difficulties starting tasks - ADHD can make it very difficult to begin tasks as they feel too overwhelming, difficult or take too much focus. Breaking down tasks into smaller sections can help this a lot

Forgetfullness - out of sight, out of mind is often the case with ADHD, and so things like post-it notes and reminders can help people remember things they need to do

Multiple thoughts at once - neurotypicals tend to only have one thought/idea in their head at a time, however those with ADHD often juggle multiple thoughts which can lead to distraction and frustration

‘All or nothing’ - Those with ADHD tend to be ‘all or nothing’ with how they delegate their focus, if they are interested in something they will put their entire energy and focus into it until its perfect, if they aren’t interested? They probably wont do it at all, this often means that those with ADHD may struggle academically because they don’t feel interested in the topics. Unlike Autism, they tend not to focus well with repetitive  tasks as this lacks simulation

Medication - unlike Autism, ADHD can be helped with stimulant medication that allows them to focus a bit better. This is not a cure as ADHD cannot be cured, however it can be beneficial to some to help manage their struggles

Acting without thinking and being impulsive - to find some stimulation, those with ADHD may act without thinking of their consequences, or can engage in risky behaviour as other avenues may seem boring, please note this is not the case for everyone, and these ‘risks’ may be very mild like trying a new flavour of ice cream. They can act impulsively too and struggle to wait their turn

Communication difficulties - while ADHD is not a communication disorder, it can have affects on communication such as talking out of turn, starting conversations at the wrong times, being insensitive to particular topics or getting too distracted to focus on the conversation

Need reminders to take care of themselves - due to a mix of hyperfocusing and not focusing well, those with ADHD may often forget to do things such as eat, drink, sleep or shower

Quite easy to get their attention - when someone with ADHD is daydreaming, getting distracted or not focusing, it can be as simple as giving them a tap or a smile to bring their attention back to the matter at hand, even if these needs to be done multiple times

Rewarding behaviour - this technique works well as rewarding good behaviour releases dopamine, which is the hormone often lacked in those with ADHD, this allows people to connect activities and behaviours with positive feelings and are more likely to do it again in the future

ADHD STEROTYPES:

ADHD is ‘diet’ Autism

Those with ADHD cannot sit still

They are disruptive

Everyone with ADHD is hyperactive, loud and extroverted