#Unclassified man non man

[arewebeholdingaman]

is nimona a man?

trick question

Shes nimona

[esamastation]

Shizuroth, part seventeen

Previous parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen

-

The lifeblood of Shinra is power in its many forms - Mako, money, military, medical... - but its nervous system is intelligence.

Shinra controls all the major print media, radio and television stations and has its own, not entirely public, publicity arm that makes sure that those things stay in line. It works from within the Public Service Department, of course, and it has its fingers in everything from print houses to public libraries to theatres and cinema. Very few things go out into the world without Shinra Public Service's stamp on it.

And the Department has, always, an ear to the ground for rumours. Everything from a Department head's illicit indulgences to lowly janitor voicing work-related complaints at a bar, Turks are often the first to know about. Some of those rumours could be ignored, others had to be suppressed, some were given a megaphone, and the rest… were dealt with according to procedure. 

Whenever there's anything at all noticeable out in the wilds, the Turks notice. And when SOLDIER First Class takes a leave of absence, it's noticeable.

When it's Sephiroth, it's a potential disaster - PR, or otherwise. And the fact that he cited Shinra Medical Research Department as his reason….

Sephiroth doesn't take time off. He gets it assigned in the form of downtime, which he then uses to train, but he never requests it. He never takes any form of sick leave either - he doesn't get sick. And he rarely, if ever, cites the Medical Research Department in any way in written form.

The man has a… notably awkward relationship with the department, what with it being run by his father. Who is, by all accounts, one of the most abusing and manipulative men in Turk records. Hm.

"First signs of a little rebellion from our Silver General," Reno suggests, lounging casually back on Tseng's office couch. "Or the first cracks in the ice?"

Tseng hums, leafing through Sephiroth's file. It's a lengthy one - even the unclassified folder is thicker than any other SOLDIERs - but has remarkably little about Sephiroth's psychology. It was considered a non-issue, because Sephiroth was classified more as company property, rather than as an employee. Employees need to be managed - property is used or stored.

It makes it difficult to estimate, or even guesstimate his potential reaction - or the eventual fallout.

"They accidentally killed him with an injection," Rude comments, sitting across from Reno. "It's reasonable cause."

"Reasonable cause to lose his shit and go crazy sword killer on us all," Reno says, crossing one leg over the other. "Like that guy, what's his face - went whacko on a mission and slaughtered his whole squad in Wutai."

"No such incident occurred," Tseng says, inflectionless.

"Yes, yes, and that particular jungle burned down to the ground completely by coincidence," Reno snorts. "Just saying - that guy went through only a fraction of what Sephiroth's gone through. If the Elite among Elite is cracking, I'd like to know what happened the last time SOLDIER lost their marbles. You know, for reference."

Though a fair point, it's not a good point of reference for Sephiroth though - Sephiroth is on a whole different level of dangerous.

Lowering the folder, Tseng rests his elbows on his desk and steeples his hands. "SOLDIER look after their own," he comments, more to himself than to his underlings.

"And thank fuck for that," Reno agrees heartily. "But again, it's Sephiroth."

In previous cases of SOLDIER showing especial signs of stress, they were taken care of by other SOLDIERs. They even did a decent enough job covering up the usual issues that plagued SOLDIERs thanks to Mako injections - the side effects of memory loss were something of an open secret, but as long as it didn't affect SOLDIER effectiveness, it was being overlooked.

Usually Turks could trust SOLDIER to clean up their own messes… but sometimes a jungle had to burn. Tseng didn't really want to go poking around SOLDIER, but…

Sephiroth is more than a potential incident with massive casualties they might need to take care of. He's the face of Wutai War - and the company's second most valuable asset, right after Mako extraction technology itself. An incident simply isn't permissible, when Sephiroth is concerned. However… it might not be preventable, either.

Sephiroth is the only member of Shinra military that cannot be swept under the rug if he becomes an issue. Nor is there much anything they can do to control the man. Sephiroth answers to Lazard and through him to Heidegger… but he's owned by Hojo. And Hojo barely answers to the president.

How troublesome.

"I want a full, detailed accounting of everything Sephiroth has done post-op, and everything he will do going forward, until we can safely classify him as no longer a concern," he decides. It's barely an effort to maintain control, he knows, but there's not much else that can go, with a VIP target like this.

Hopefully being watched would make the man exercise self-control - rather than make him feel controlled and all the more stressed. 

"And if he loses it and starts slicing and dicing everything that moves?" Reno asks. "Because, no offence, boss, you don't pay me near enough to get in the way of that." Rude hums in agreement.

"I pay you enough to make sure no one important does either," Tseng says, giving him a look. "Distract, divert and minimise loss of valuable company assets. Which includes Sephiroth himself."

"What fun that will be," Reno decides and rolls to his feet with all the grace of an alleyway cat. "Alright. Off I go to poke my nose where it doesn't belong."

Rude hums and stands up, pushing his glasses higher up on his nose. "What's the operating procedure concerning information leakage? Sephiroth is a public figure."

"Standard OP. Suppress anything that might bring trouble to the company," Tseng says and leans back. "Nothing has changed, for now, so let's concentrate on getting Sephiroth quickly and smoothly back to Wutai." Where any incidents would be much easier to suppress.

"Here's hoping our famous Elite First won't make that impossible," Reno says. "Like, by very publicly going Tonberry on someone's ass."

Tseng sighs. "Reno…"

"I'm going, I'm going," Reno cackles. "Coming, Rude?"

"Mn," Rude hums and nods to Tseng. "Sir."

Tseng waits until they're out of the office before leaning back with a sigh.

The SOLDIER program has made one hell of a difference for Shinra, both in military power and in terms of publicity. Now if only Medical Research stopped treating them like disposable lab rats… 

Running a hand down his face, Tseng shakes his head. Not his department. With that thought he turns to his computer and on to what is his department - and begins writing a report on what it would take to neutralise Sephiroth, if it ever became necessary. 

-

No personal privacy in this company. SY would really like for people to stop being concerned about him now, please and thank you.

[themotherofrevelation]

The modern man of dysfunction is an emotionally dysregulated non-provider/non-protector. He is a volatile terrorist, or he is a commitment-phobic comfort addict. He cannot serve as the buttress of womban’s wild majesty; he cannot hold womban in all her bloody, slaughterous glory. To the lost and confused male, womban (the natural vessel of the Divine) is a terrifying conundrum. Womban is equal yet inferior; she is never the unclassifiable Goddess. The dysfunctional masculine is a slave to soul-snuffing conveniences of the soma. He is a slave to the ephemeral erection; ecstasy is but a genital squeeze/sneeze.

There is no place for womban in a man’s world. The modern womban of dysfunction moves through the world as womban-man. She is a submissive provider to an escapist man-child. She medicates her wise rhythms and embraces womb degradation. Hyper-independence and invulnerability guard her barren heart. She repudiates the inconvenience of wombanhood and “mans up” to prove that she (a cyclical, Madre Natura-ruled portal of life/death/resurrection) belongs in a man’s world. The yoni temple requires loving commitment from gentleman, but the dysfunctional feminine moves from the soul wound and seeks love/validation in empty flesh. She has severed her skull of spirit from Mother Nature’s hiraṇyagarbha.

[dead-dog-dont-eat]

So here's a OC/self-insert I was mostly inspired of from Spiderman and what, I am still hyperfixated on DC/Batman, but I am mostly focused on spidypool is all.

-Guropaura ("guro" being the subgenre of anime/manga that focuses on gore and mutilation; "paura" being the Italian word for "fear/fright")

-Real name is Moss Hellian

-They/Them and Xe/Xem pronouns

-Unclassified villain and anti-hero

-An AFAB non-passing trans-nonbinary man

-Arospec, Demisexual, along with identifying as both a straight man and a lesbian woman

-No powers, whatsoever, but they carry either a sickle or scythe (sometimes both)

-Weakness is fire and also sunlight

-Skin is mostly an ashy grey; the lower arms and legs (almost feet and hands) are nothing but charred and blackened bone which is loosely wrapped with bandages; they also wear a black shirt, a pair of torn brown pants, and a dark-brown hooded cloak; brown/hazelnut colored somewhat curly hair that is at mid-back length, along with a mouth that is sewn (not shut, but loosely) to which their mouth has a permanent smile as well, and having bloodied bandages that are wrapped around where there eyes were--not blind, but they can "see."

-A burn survivor from a fianti-heroths lit in a hospital by a pryomaniac; they were burned from the inside but not outside, which left them with no organs except for heart and stomach and burnt lungs and a scarred voice box; they also kill (both human and animal) for meat to feed on

-When speaking, their voice is a bit raspy, but more hoarsely (from the burnt lungs and voice box)

-A partner of Thorax (@bloodmoon24)

-Mostly inspired off of Deadpool, Hellspawn, Marble Hornets, and Scarecrow from DC.

[pixeldolly]

Walden BACC #989

The impossible creature wafted up from inside the lamp, a purple-skinned man wearing an ornate tunic and turban. Half his body was invisible (or missing!), obscured by a cloud of smoke which tethered him to his refuge - or, perhaps, prison. It gave off a cloyingly sweet smell, like incense and the dust of ages.

Kate stared, mesmerized.

Genie: “A new hand touches the lamp. Speak your wishes and begone, mortal!”

Kate: “Fascinating!...”

For most of her life, Kate would have scoffed at the idea that vampires, spirits, witches and other such ghoulies were anything more than figments of people’s imagination. Moving to Walden had forced her to reassess those beliefs - there was no denying the empirical evidence present before her very eyes, evidence which seemed to be multiplying worldwide in recent years.

She also knew that some still refused to accept there was anything supernatural at work - attempts had been made to quantify non-baseline humans using the scientific method, finding everyday classifications for the unclassifiable. Was vampirism a virus, was lycanthropy a mutation? And so on.

Kate enjoyed this line of thinking, and she’d just been given a chance to conduct a little study of her own. Carefully, of course.

Kate: “Explain to me how this works, then: I make a wish, and you grant it? Just like that? Are there any wishes you won’t fulfil? ‘Can’t make someone fall in love with you, or bring someone back from the dead’, like in the stories?”

The Genie - if that’s what it was - regarded her with amused contempt.

Genie: “You ask many questions, mortal. It is in my power to grant anything your heart desires.”

Kate: “I find it very interesting that a being claiming to be practically omnipotent is bound to a lamp and forced to cater to the whims of whoever gets a hold of it. What’s the catch?”

The purple lips twitched almost imperceptibly, but Kate caught it. So, there was a catch. He was trying to trick her.

Genie: “Most mortals have already made their first wish by this point. I know you have secret wishes: your metal man made flesh and blood, perhaps? To touch and to hold and be desired in turn?”

Watcher’s sake, did everyone read minds?!

Kate: “Not right now, thanks. Back inside you go!”

More data was needed.

Having stored the lamp safely inside the shed, Kate found that she couldn’t get the Genie’s words out of her head. Sure, she had occasionally pictured what it would be like if AIOS were a living man - who wouldn’t in her shoes? - but it was just idle fantasising. 

I love AIOS just the way he is!

As the door clicked shut behind her, she imagined that she heard a low, derisive chuckle coming from somewhere inside.

[jujumin-translates]

&0 Character Intros | Kabukicho Special Measures Division

A special organization within the police department that maintains security in Kabukicho. Efficient personnel, specializing in violent crimes, are sent to this organization.

Takahiru Haruno - 春野 隆宏

CV: Shinichiro Kamio

“If at all possible… I would never pick up a handgun again.”

A lone wolf who has turned his back on the road to success. A straight-laced, honest, and secretly sweet guy.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

The lieutenant of the Special Task Force who takes charge of crime scenes. He is an honest, straight-laced man who devotes his life to his work. He is oblivious to the good will of other and somewhat air-headed at times.

He’s very sincere with his subordinates, and is able to do his job well. It’s said he’s secretly very popular among the special teams. His hobbies include eating convenience store sweets.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Occupation - Metropolitan Police Officer for the Shinjuku Police Department - Kabukicho Special Measures Division (Lieutenant)

Age - 32

Height - 179cm

Birthday - May 19

Blood Type - A

Likes - Eating sweet things

Weakness - Talking about love

Fun Fact - He’s very kindhearted

Ryuusei Natsui - 夏井 流星

CV: Kengo Kawanishi

“I’d give anything for a promotion. Provided that the quid pro quo is 50% more.”

An honor student investigator who is furiously pursuing the shortest possible route to a promotion. A well-read subculturas individual with poor love skills.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

He has a fierce desire to get ahead in life. An elite investigator.

When it comes to work that could lead to a promotion, his motivation is doubled. On the other hand, if it doesn’t lead to a promotion, he’d rather save his energy.

He’s an excellent, young investigator, but is the embodiment of complexity.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Occupation - Metropolitan Police Officer for the Shinjuku Police Department - Kabukicho Special Measures Division (Police Sergeant)

Age - 26

Height - 180cm

Birthday - January 31

Blood Type - B

Likes - Reading books

Weakness - Coming in contact with women

Fun Fact - Not good at relying on others

Souta Akimoto - 奏太 秋元

CV: Takuya Tsuda

“We’re here to protect you and this city 24/7!”

A 100% refreshing, impulsive, newbie police officer. He’s a young, unclassified man who is accustomed to the harsh realities of life.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

A former hot-blooded, delinquent investigator. He wants to use his power to protect others, and set out on being a police officer with that single goal in mind.

He’s well built, polite, refreshing, and apparently wasn’t as popular in the past.

He learned how to play the alto saxophone from his grandfather, and still plays it on occasion.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Occupation - Metropolitan Police Officer for the Shinjuku Police Department - Kabukicho Special Measures Division (Police Officer)

Age - 23

Height - 177cm

Birthday - September 6

Blood Type - O

Likes - Hero films

Weakness - Being made aware of the past

Fun Fact - He’s quite popular

Kazuya Yukihara - 雪原 和哉

CV: Masamichi Kitada

“Whether you’re good or bad, I’m still your doctor.”

A well known family doctor in the entertainment district who accepts anyone who comes to him. He had a disregard for anyone but his patients.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

A family doctor who is too kind to his patients and too strict with the rest of the world. He is viewed by female nurses and physicians as the “perfect man for admiring from afar”.

All his patients, criminal or not, are cared for and not given up on. He actually has slow reflexes and likes the pigeons at the park.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Occupation - General Practitioner - Managing Physician of the Private Hospital “Ichibancho Clinic”

Age - 33

Height - 186cm

Birthday - December 26

Blood Type - O

Likes - Work, seeing his patients smile

Weakness - Being nice to non-patients

Fun Fact - His smile is very innocent

[cleverwordsandotherstuffilike]

10 Latin phrases people pretend to understand

1. Caveat emptor // "Let the buyer beware"

Before money-back guarantees and 20-year warranties, caveat emptor was indispensable advice for the consumer. These days, it'd be more fitting to have it tattooed on the foreheads of used-car salesmen and infomercial actors. For extra credit points, remember that caveat often makes solo appearances at cocktail parties as a fancy term for a warning or caution. Oh, and just so you know, caveat lector means "let the reader beware."

2. Persona non grata // "An unacceptable person"

Remember your old college buddy, the one everybody called Chugger? Now picture him at a debutante ball, and you'll start to get a sense of someone with persona non grata status. The term is most commonly used in diplomatic circles to indicate that a person is unwelcome due to ideological differences or a breach of trust. Sometimes, the tag refers to a pariah, a ne'er-do-well, a killjoy, or an interloper, but it's always subjective. Back in 2004, Michael Moore was treated as persona non grata at the Republican National Convention. Bill O'Reilly would experience the same at Burning Man.

3. Habeas Corpus // "You shall have the body"

In a nutshell, habeas corpus is the legal principle that guarantees an inmate the right to appear before a judge in court, so it can be determined whether or not that person is being lawfully imprisoned. It's also one of the cornerstones of the American and British legal systems. Without it, tyrannical and unjust imprisonments would be possible. In situations where national security is at risk, however, habeas corpus can be suspended.

4. Cogito ergo sum // "I think, therefore I am"

When all those spirited mental wrestling matches you have about existentialism start growing old (yeah, right!), you can always put an end to the debate with cogito ergo sum. René Descartes, the 17th-century French philosopher, coined the phrase as a means of justifying reality. According to him, nothing in life could be proven except one's thoughts. Well, so he thought, anyway.

5. E pluribus unum // "Out of many, one"

America's original national motto, e pluribus unum, was plagiarized from an ancient recipe for salad dressing. In the 18th century, haughty intellectuals were fond of this phrase. It was the kind of thing gentlemen's magazines would use to describe their year-end editions. But the term made its first appearance in Virgil's poem "Moretum" to describe salad dressing. The ingredients, he wrote, would surrender their individual aesthetic when mixed with others to form one unique, homogenous, harmonious, and tasty concoction. And while e pluribus unum continues to appear on U.S. coins, "In God We Trust" came along later (officially in 1956) to share the motto spotlight.

6. Quid pro quo // "This for that"

Given that quid pro quo refers to a deal or trade, it's no wonder the Brits nicknamed their almighty pound the "quid." And if you give someone some quid, you're going to expect some quo. The phrase often lives in the courtroom, where guilt and innocence are the currency. It's the oil that lubricates our legal system. Something of a quantified value is traded for something of equal value; elements are parted and parceled off until quid pro quo is achieved.

7. Ad hominem // "To [attack] the man"

In the world of public discourse, ad hominem is a means of attacking one's rhetorical opponent by questioning his or her reputation or expertise rather than sticking to the issue at hand. Translation: Politicians are really good at it. People who resort to ad hominem techniques are usually derided as having a diluted argument or lack of discipline. If pressed, they'll brandish it like a saber and refuse to get back to the heart of the matter. Who said the debate team doesn't have sex appeal?

8. Ad majorem dei gloriam // "All for the greater glory of God"

Ad majorem dei gloriam is often shortened to AMDG. In other words, it's the WWJD of the Jesuits, who've been drilling the mantra into their followers since (Saint) Ignatius of Loyola founded the Catholic Order in 1534. They believe all actions, big or small, should be done with AMDG in mind. Remind your Jesuit-educated buddies of this when they seem to be straying from the path. (Best used with a wink and a hint of irony.)

9. Memento mori // "Remember, you will die"

Carpe diem is so 20th century. If you're going to suck the marrow out of life, trying doing it with the honest, irrefutable, and no less inspiring memento mori. You can interpret the phrase in two ways: Eat, drink, and party down. Or, less hedonistically, be good so you can get past the pearly gates. Naturally, the latter was the one preferred by the early Christian Church, which would use macabre art—including dancing skeletons and snuffed-out candles—to remind the faithful to forgo temporal pleasures in favor of eternal bliss in heaven.

10. Sui generis // "Unique and unable to classify"

Frank Zappa, the VW Beetle, cheese in a can: Sui generis refers to something that's so new, so bizarre, or so rare that it defies categorization. Granted, labeling something sui generis is really just classifying the unclassifiable. But let's not over-think it. Use it at a dinner party to describe Andy Kaufman, and you impress your friends. Use it too often, and you just sound pretentious.

Kevin Fleming, Mental Floss

[gravelgirty]

Common is NOT an Insult

'Common' is still used in English as a rarified insult. That's not a good thing. I’d rather it be completely tossed in the dump.

Nothing gets up my craw more than the sound of someone describing a person they despise as 'common'.  Of course, we've adapted that insult to more charming words (not), like 'Mundanes' (which...hallmarks you for reading Piers Anthony's Fantamisogyny (1), or Muggles and Mudbloods (2)--I hate 'em all because isolationist language is the opposite purpose of diversity and inclusion. 

(1) For you MUCH younger readers, Piers Anthony's XANTH books were all about people with magic vs. those without (Mundanes). It thrived as a smiling, condescending insult in the cultural wars between Group A: people who loved fantasy and science fiction, and Group B: the people who didn't 'get' Group A and called them weird children.  Much later, the majority of us grew up and realized:

Being mean doesn't make you a better person, or even wiser.

Piers Anthony can't write anything without explaining yet again how desirable it is to have grossly underage, dumb, promiscuous females.

Dumb people aren't interesting, no matter how many powers and square inches of naked subservience you give them

Sigmund Freud, what have you done?

2) Muggle as defined via my old enemy, Wikipedia:

a person who is a member of the non-magical community, Muggles are simply ordinary human beings without any magical abilities and almost always with no awareness of the existence of magic.

We could go ON and ON about how Jerk Rowling crafted the word to be a ‘more cuddly’ version of foolish;(*) someone who is born separated from her ‘real’ world of wizardry and magic; someone who is stupid and subpar, but my skin isn’t that thick today.** The point is, this is a modern way of smilingly calling someone ‘retarded’ and getting away with it.

‘Mudblood’ is even worse, but at least it strips the fake smile off the sharp teeth lurking behind the word.

Sir Terry Pratchett was one of the writers aware of the separatist creches in science fiction and fantasy, and that is one of the reasons why he liked to expose it. He did it with Nobby Nobbs, a man so common, he had to carry around a medical certificate that vouchsafed his own humanity.

Sam Vimes, who hated everyone unilaterally enough to be an expert on hatred, points this out in very plain language to an aristocratic vampire who values people in terms of their social standing:

“You see, I don’t think he’s got noble blood in him. Nobby’s as common as muck. It’s one of his better points.” (Feet of Clay)

Sir Terry put it out even plainer in his first Watch novel, Guards! Guards!

It always amazed Vimes how Nobby got along with practically everyone. It must, he’d decided, have something to do with the common denominator. in the entire world of mathematics there could be no denominator as common as Nobby.

So how did it all happen? The long and short of it is, ‘common’ was used to separate from humanity, the people who had no titles to their identity. They are the common man; commoners.

In blunter terms, common people are innominate. That means ‘unclassified’. 

Not named.

How we developed it as a derogatory, separatist insult...well, that’s all on us. 

And it is up to us to stop every now and then, and look hard at the words we use when we are angry at someone. Because the words are a symptom of the underlying thinking--Hillary Clinton’s Deplorables. Trump’s ‘these idiots’. A wedge designed to push yourself away (perhaps protectively) from a population target. Only when it is too late do we realize we’ve slapped shut the door in the wall that connects us.

______________

*) https://scifi.stackexchange.com/questions/98873/etymology-of-muggles

**) I’m saving the rant against her appropriation of culture to propagandize her agenda when I’m calmer than I am now.

[rhaenyratargeryn]

MAIN CAST OF CHARACTERS

Shio Moravek; 22, the daughter of Leos Moravek and Shiori Moravek. Born seemingly a non-Zenith despite having two Zenith parents, questions regarding her paternity have plagued her life. Being the presumed child of the Emperor's most powerful general, she is given a place at Anthea College regardless of her lack of ability. She has black hair, beige skin and unnaturally vibrant blue eyes. A common sign of a person with ties to ancient blood. In actuality, her powers are a previously undiscovered classification, giving her the ability to negate or neutralize other Zenith abilities.

Leonores "Nell" Moravek; 20, the youngest daughter of Leos and Shiori Moravek. A kineti, she is incredibly powerful like her father, but lacks control of her abilities. Dark haired, beige skin and unnaturally vibrant amber eyes.

Charon Usuro; 27, Nephew to Leos Moravek. A decent pathos, he is the product of an unsanctioned marriage between Leos' deceased sister and a low-born nobleman from the Falser Islands. He has black coily hair, brown skin and the trademark Moravek amber eyes.

Enoch "Noc" Volkov; 25. The bastard son of the Emperor. Though he is unrecognized as such, most are aware of this fact. He is also a sanguis of some power. A pale enigmatic and often cruel young man with dark eyes and dark hair.

The Miraculous Mirandous, aka Mira; 24. Childhood friend of Enoch and a brothel worker at the Meringue. She is a Zenith of low birth, but is highly popular and famous within her profession. Her natural light brown hair is dyed a vivid red. Tan skin, lovely dark brown eyes. A very curvy lady and tractus of extraordinary skill.

The Shade; ?, An individual of some mystery. She is one of the afflicted who became what is called a "Ghast". An individual who eventually develops sickly near white skin, white hair and black blood. She is photosensitive, but can see in the dark. Her own abilities are unclassified among the Zenith and give her mastery over shadow.

[pentanguine]

1. Do you use any other terms to define or explain your gender?

So…I got a little carried away. Most of these posts will not be this long, but I had a lot I wanted to say, and a long drizzly afternoon to work on saying it, so.

Aside from genderqueer, trans, and nonbinary…

I’ve started feeling more at home with the word transmasculine this year, after several years of circling it warily and ultimately running away because it would just be ALL TOO SHOCKING. Other people interpret transmasculine in a wide variety of ways, many of which make me deeply uncomfortable (eg “Transmasc = physically transitioning in all the same ways trans men usually do;” “Transmasc = trans man but woke about it;” “Transmasc = I have aligned myself against women and forsaken feminism and I love asserting my dominant gender role”), and voluntarily using a word that’s ripe for misinterpretation made my control-obsessed brain fuck right off.

But ultimately it’s not really about using words (what does that even mean? putting them in your tumblr bio? buying the pride flag?) so much as knowing, however privately, that you are a thing. And I’m transmasculine! It’s a word that feels comfortable, and homey, and exciting. Other people who use that word sound like me! They look like me, and they look how I want to look! I get such a blooming, leaping, light-filled feeling in my chest when I see these people, because I instinctively feel that these are People Like Me. I recognize myself in their experiences of gender, and sometimes I feel like my whole body’s going to shake apart with a euphoria that’s like being on fire. Every time I read something by Daniel M. Lavery I end up rolling around on the floor in paroxysms of delight and Feeling Seen, and my brain lights up like a fireworks display when I see awkward bi men with curly brown hair and glasses. There is still a little part of my brain that’s convinced referring to myself as transmasc will make everyone deeply disappointed in me, and obligate me to go out and befriend a footballer named Chad, but I’ve been casually referring to myself that way since May in semi-public venues and the sky hasn’t fallen in yet.

Transmasc feels like a useful word for me because it makes me feel more settled. I think a lot of times nonbinary gender is simplified to gender neutrality (which it is for some people!), while for me it’s more like a stewing mess full of things that don’t make coherent sense in anyone’s mind but my own. So I can like masculine words and gender presentations, and that doesn’t mean I’m equating neutrality with masculinity, and I can also express my gender in the numerous non-masc ways that feel natural to me while still having that anchor to come back to. Ultimately, I think it just means that I have a more meaningful relationship with masculinity than I have with femininity, neutrality, or androgyny, and that I’m deliberately moving in a more masc-coded direction that the one I started out. And that’s it!

--

The other big gender-conceptualization-thing that I’ve been thinking a lot about is the complicated muddle of doubleness and inversion that I feel between gender identity, gender presentation, sexuality, and gender expression. I don’t feel bigender, because that sounds like I have two discrete gender experiences sitting side by side, and I’m not genderfluid, because it’s not like my gender actually changes, but I do feel like I’m part woman-affiliated agender person, and part genderqueer guy with the genderqueer dialed up to eleven and the guy dialed down to two. Part of me feels apart from gender, but nebulously attached to queer ideas of womanhood (lesbian! spinster! middle school girl at a sleepover who promises to love her friends more than any passing crush!), and then part of me feels apart from gender, but like I picked Guy Gender to steal for myself and imitate and relentlessly queer by virtue of not taking it seriously enough. But it’s all mixed together, you know? Like paint swirling on a palette, or light bringing out iridescence on fish scales. Sometimes it will be more like one thing, sometimes more like another, but it’s always whole and completely intertwined.

Earlier this year a Miriam Zoila Perez quote about being a faggy butch was going around, and man, that gave me a lot of gender feelings. I first encountered the term fairy butch on this old blog called The Butchelor, and while I loved it then, I didn’t use it because of a radfem-induced trepidation that it was all an elaborate joke everyone understood but me. I also have an extremely annoyed relationship to the word butch, because I’m not butch at all, and I doubt anyone else would think I am, but this seems to be the only word anyone is capable of using to describe queer masculinity. It’s like other people are determined to smash you into yet another binary (ironically, a binary that’s jealously guarded by the same people who keep enfolding you in it) because you’re afab and like wearing ties. It’s annoying!

But the phrase fairy butch just seems so delightful to me, because it’s whimsical and complex, and also so genderfucky. I’m not masculine in any of the ways that usually cohere to the word butch—I don’t have the interests, or the mannerisms, or the sexual propensities or the haircut or the total dislike for anything feminine-coded (why is masculinity always all or nothing, and all about absence?). I love my socks with the sparkly pink foxgloves, I love smiling (why must men never smile?), I like sitting with my legs crossed and talking with my hands. I’m not feminine, I’m effeminate. I’m a double invert, gay for women and gay for men, a too-boyish-“woman” who doubles right back around as a too-feminine-“man.” Maybe I’m not a butch, or even a (faggy) butch, but dammit I’m a fairy/butch. Two queers in one, two inextricable, contradicting queernesses that complicate and complement and mitigate and enhance each other.

--

The idea that I’ve been slowly winding towards is that contradiction is part of my gender. It’s not something that’s going to get smoothed out one day when I find The Perfect Word, and the questioning and revisiting isn’t going to end when I reach The Final Stage of Transition or whatever. I read an article a few weeks ago that nebulously cited Jack Halberstam as saying “refusal to resolve my gender ambiguity has become a kind of identity for me,” and that’s something that resonates with me so, so much. I don’t have to make myself neat and appropriate for consumption, because my gender doesn’t exist at the mercy of other people’s understanding. I’m not a problem that has yet to be shoved into a “woman-aligned” or “nonvir” box, I just am. Sitting amidst the dissonance of things that other people tell me are impossible to feel at the same time is my identity. I never want to cohere.

It reminds me of the way I feel about historical figures like Katharine Hepburn and Daphne DuMaurier, who were definitely genderqueer as fuck, but also closeted to the outside world for their entire lives, and unclassifiable in modern terminology. They were real, complex people who existed, and are now gone! It would be really weird to assign them a coherent identity, like “Hepburn was a nonbinary trans man” or “DuMaurier was genderfluid” or what-have-you, when all you have are decontextualized fragments of their gender feelings. (I feel comfortable calling them genderqueer because that can be used as an adjective to describe cis people who queer gender, which they definitely did)

Anyway: I feel very deeply connected to these people, and the way they saw themselves as being boys, or like-men, or men-in-certain-contexts, or men-and-women, or women-who-wanted-to-be-men. But the thing is, wherever they may have wanted to go, they never arrived. Would Hepburn have preferred to be known professionally as Jimmy, gone by he/him pronouns in all areas of life, and identified as a proud trans man? Barring some spectacular archival discovery, we’ll never know, because that was never a viable option in Hepburn’s lifetime. And that space of possibly-wanting, but not-arriving, feels like a destination to me. That gap, between wanting and actualization, or fantasizing and pursuing, or playing around and Identifying As, feels like it is part of my experience of gender. I’m not a man, I’m a woman-who-wants-to-be-a-man. There has to be that distance, and that wanting.

I’ve gone on for an absurd amount of time here, but ultimately: I’m queer! My gender is queer! Some people are men, some people are women, and I’m a queer.

[phandomphightclub]

Round 2 Match 10: @spookyscaryphantoms vs. @going-dead

Writer: @lumanae

“Because the gods know no bounds to my suffering, here’s! Two more beverage-themed ghosts!”

Luma angrily stabbed the ground with her pool noodle hat.

“First, we have a lean, mean, phighting machine! Brandishing a cup of coffee and an uncomfortably strong love for the secondary colors, tumblr user @going-dead! Who named themself after bread!”

“I bet you like ciabatta, you prude,” Rye stuck out their tounge.

“And now, the phighter with an ID only a multiplier of 10 away from being the second best number, brandishing a thing of hot cocoa mix and an unusual propensity for contortion, it’s @spookyscaryphantoms! Who is not named for a bread variety, but is named for the United States Nuclear Regulatory Commission’s acronym for Sensitive Unclassified Non-Safeguards Information!”

“You have too much time on your hands. And too much access to Google.” Danny grumbled.

“Phuck you. Phight!”

“Ever heard of coffee with chocolate in it?” jeered Sunsi. 

“No???” Rye said. “That’s because it SUCKS. Just like you at phighting.”

“You know,” Rye drawled, “I’ve had a long day. Ghosts yelling at me, some dipshit comparing me to bread, and now you. Do you know how much caffeine is in this bad boy?” they pointed to the coffee. “69 milligrams! That’s like. Half a Monster. I.e. NOT ENOUGH for this, let me SAY!”

“Oh. Ok. That’s fair. I’m sorry. I’ll just. Go home? I guess? This phight needs to be wrapped up in 3 minutes, so. That’s probably for the best.” Sunsi shuffled off. “Good luck, man.”

Luma looked at the camera, akin to Jim Halpert. “Hmmmmm,” they said. “I wonder which dumb fanfic reading bitch could possibly responsible for this anticlimactic of a phight resolution?”

“I deserve better, and so does Rye!” shouted Sunsi from the liminal phighting ring-audience space. 

“Yeah, that’s fair. Regardless: @going-dead’s defeatist attitude drove off @spookyscaryphantoms! Rye wins!”

“Oh, shit, dude. That’s lit,” Rye said. “Still mad about being cucked for merlin fic though.”

[arewebeholdingaman]

is this a man

✅️ featherless

❓️ this is clearly one of shrodingers guys. Who let him outta the house. Put him back

The council cannot prove the existence or lack thereof of the cat's legs until they see the lower half of their body, therefore making this results of this case Indeterminate!

[sagaballero]

FANFICTION world is a truly debrided, uncensored promised land, bastion of freedom and free-style writing. In this baroque puzzle, discovering a variety of gifted (and selfless) writers, that’s an utter comfort.

Ambivalent, Luxurious, Against the current, Organic, Gutsy, Dark, Gray, Transcendent, Outrageous, Extravagant... In the case of REYLOFICs the more I read the more I am tempted to explore the deep-end of this horn of plenty. But, on the journey, say nice things about those dream-machine storytellers is clearly a sane propaganda. Prodigal author without blinking, innate crack, inscrutable wizard or soft/dark underbelly... Whoever they might be, all credit to them for doing what they are doing and doing it so well. @5-cents​  Less is more. Able to write a play, a screenplay, got an eye for the (implied) obvious so as to preserve what counts. Sense of slangy imagery and naked poetry, science of dialogue, syncopated path and (film) cutting, she also has a thoughtful and mature love for the characters without give in to ease. Richer than rich, the whole thing smells like a melancholic lost perfume BUT not only... Classic and atypical at once because Style is firmly timeless.

Fever of predilection and indivisible pairing:

Hide and Seek - E

Because Tennessee Williams, Sweaty Southern Gothic, Ben Solo is a dark horse (with a riding crop), Rey ain’t just a “Baby Doll”, Volcano Snoke deserves an Oscar (!), Awakening is not a bed of roses, Because fooling around with Tennessee Williams is highly inflammable and SHE’s the man

Candyleg - E 

Pulpfic, Black Comedy, Roman noir, Cinematic at all points, Psyche and Eros between the lines, Outlaws everywhere, Supporting roles are being treated like royalty, Ren Solo is a case study and an authentic black horse, this story has many lives as huge zebra stripes, Subliminal Scorsese and Freud at the corner

FULL WORK

@lilia-ula​  The Holy Grail of sin. On the edge of lyricism, sophistication and decadence. If you start, you’ll be under her writing-perfusion/persuasion. This combo of Opium (or put your own fetish dish here) and Biggerthanlife-words should be felt and experienced. Beware to indelible effects! The guiltiest dose is often the best. 99% dubious Kylo Ren and an artful level of carnality that is second to none.

First meet, Heart stroke in unison:

The Autumnal Hunt of Alderaan - E

Medieval hunt haloed in black and gold (and deep carmine). Ritualistic, animalistic, shimmering fic like an ideal full circle (of sex practice). Need a teacher?

This Way Lies Ruin - E

Because possessive-obsessive, Death and the maiden, hunter and prey, Kylo Ren always has a plan, Sith-style courtship, Epic smut, Iconic chapters, A surprise awaits Rey! (all the time too)

FULL WORK @missbliss12​  Multi-talent. Multi-faceted in the likeness of her stories & comics. Irreverent, Witty, Hilarious. Radiant and enchanted-disenchanted, all this together. Impressive fluency and staggering poetic prose at work. Not a wasted word! High wire act.

A dream bubble apart:

The Good Fortune of the Skywalker Family - Teen and Up Audiences *still in progress

To be prescribed durably. Unclassifiable modern tale. Healing and sanely insane. Your line of fortune! When you no longer believe in anything but you still want to believe (and laugh), the Skywalker-Organa-Solo are all here to tell you: “Always look on the bright side of life.” 

FULL WORK

@persimonne  Positively contagious! Bold, Quirky, Adventurous, Whimsical, Cheeky. This not shy-writer has bountiful ideas and a very skillful pen. Her stories are unexpected and unconventional many times, not forgetting of being peppered with precious finds. Exquisitely funny too!

Latest unorthodox crush:

Just us now - E

Siblings + Starkiller + Snow + Chase + The world crumbling. The equation is simple, blatant, the story is unstoppable and made with love. In the best of taste & in the best spirit

A Victorian Sci-Fi story:

The Hand that feed - E  *still in progress

Enveloping, mysteriously intoxicating and deeply appealing. This monster romance has a massive charm on its own and an imaginative freshness. HER daring amorous temperament as much as HIS spellbinding power will not spare the common decency!

FULL WORK

@raevfitta  (aka slinden)  Fervent praises for this unquestionable storyteller! Prowess of writing, acuteness of senses and judgement, vigilant in choosing the slightest word, TRUTHFULNESS of facts and reactions... That’s why her insights and choices are relevant, deepened (and may become your persistent object of reflection). Addictive style, addictive work. Like a magnet! Trust and listen her discerning pen.

From the heart and the deep:

Storm King - E  *still in progress

“Two children are rescued from a kidnapper and murderer after years of torture and abuse.”

“This is a modern-day AU that will follow Ben and Rey as they grow up and deal with what happened, as well as their feelings for one another and how they transform over time.”

A post-traumatic story closely sutured with sharpness. The psychological approach is non-stop remarkable and her attention to characters, inestimable. They comes out of the blackness by carrying unfathomable feelings and wounds with them. Allusive or (most of the time) without filter, this journey into/out of the depths is utterly immersive and empathetic from the outset. Incompressible (painful) beauty. K.for King.

The time of a huis clos:

In Between Memories - E

“Two strangers awaken on a strange world with no memories of who they are or where they come from.”

This perspective of confinement -inside and out- is the promise of an exploration from every angle. A canonverse fic that reads like a rediscovery and where the characters are glaring truth. In this isolated place, filled with echoes and crucial daily deeds, nothing is trivial, everything is gripping, closest to the details. Subtle, hand-stitched work, fascinating to watch! With duality and LUMINOUS dead time

FULL WORK

IN CASE !DON’T FORGET TO CHECK THE TAGS! I’m just a free electron-reader not always aware of all the safeguards.

Also, loving word to these authors whose fics have spurred my greedy reading from the very start (my recollection being a maelstrom, it is merely a sampling).

World Without End by diasterisms @kylorenvevo

Go I know not whither and fetch I know not what by @voicedimplosives

Ashes in our Wake by @aionimica

The Soiled Doves by @fernybranca

Interstellar Transmissions by @ricca-raccoon & LovelyThings @little-scribblers-heart

Our Sentimental Scars by @ricca-raccoon

Whom Hades Seized by @nightsofreylo

Inspiration is Life!

TO BE Continued

[sunflowersupremes]

Rocket Man: Chapter 2

On the hunt for his latest story (he hasn’t decided if he’s going to tell it in poetry or prose) Jaskier heads up into the mountains, looking for the elusive group known as The Witchers.

Most humans are content to ignore the little magic that remains in their world, seeing the Witchers as relics of the past. But Jaskier sees them as his ticket to notoriety.

Characters: Jaskier, Geralt, Lambert, Vesemir

Tags: Modern AU, Journalism, Youtube, Gratituious Elton John

Series: Goodbye Yellow Brick Road (Witcher Modern AU)

Read on AO3

“Geralt, there’s a man here to see you.”

Geralt and Lambert exchanged glances across the table. “Who?” he asked, glancing at where Vesemir stood in the doorway to the small room. They’d filled it with all kinds of games - mostly board and card games - but also a PlayStation that Geralt had managed to get after a particularly lucrative contract.

“I’ve not met him, but he claims to know you.”

Suspicious. Geralt could count on one hand the number of people who knew him and not Vesemir that had any right to be at Kaer Morhen. That number was zero.

Geralt pulled up the security feed on his phone (they’d added in the cameras after one too many incidents with teenagers playing ding-dong-ditch). At first he didn’t recognize the man standing on the path, fiddling with the straps on his bag. He was dressed in some of the strangest clothes Geralt had ever seen: maroon pants, a blue sweater with leather on the shoulders and elbows, and a matching beret.

“Is that a college student or a twink?” Lambert asked.

“Could be both,” suggested Eskel, leaning forward to squint at the strange sight.

It was the hat that tipped him off. “Fuck,” he said, as the man shifted and his face became visible.

“So you do know him?”

“Remember the reporter I saved at the concert?” Geralt asked, folding his arms over his chest. “It’s him.” He’d never expected to see the man again, not after having drug him away from his would-be attackers. It seemed the man had been caught in a tent with someone else’s girlfriend.

Geralt had been close by and decided to intervene. The reporter had bought him lunch as a thank you and he’d thought that would be the end of it. Obviously not.

“Why is he here?” Lambert demanded.

“Hell if I know,” Geralt growled, pushing past them and stomping to the door. He pulled open the door with more force than was necessary, glowering at the man on the steps.

“Ah! Geralt!”

“Hello Dandelion,” he replied. The man had introduced himself as Jaskier when they’d met several months prior, but a quick google search had found his online persona: Dandelion, the Great Bard. Geralt wanted to snort.

The man seemed confused, but only momentarily, beaming at Geralt. “You found my YouTube channel? What do you think?”

“You’re wrong about the Yeti. It’s not an ‘as yet unclassified monster’ its an albino Werewolf. Rare, but not unclassified.”

“That was you that commented that?”

Geralt only grunted.

“I thought it was a troll.”

“I’ve never met a troll that could use the internet.”

“Not- ah- not that kind of troll.” Jaskier rubbed the back of his head.

“I know.”

Jaskier took a deep breath, as though psyching himself up for something. Then he said, “Might I come in?”

“Why?”

“Well, I’m a reporter you see, and I was thinking that maybe I might find a story here.”

“No thank you,” called Eskel from behind Geralt.

“Is that another Witcher?” Jaskier tried to peer around Geralt, but he’d had years of practice in blocking doorways.

“Look- I- I think you misunderstand-”

“We’ve had enough reporters sniffing around here to last us a long time,” snapped Geralt. “All they bring is trouble.” And old news reports, like the one who had shown up in 2002, waving a newspaper from 1854 about the Blaviken massacre.

“You know, the youths of today think it’s horribly sad that you’ve been so maligned-”

“There’s four of us,” growled Geralt “and we don’t care.”

“Don’t- don’t you want to reform your image?”

“No.” Geralt slammed the door, forcing the bolt through the lock.

“You know,” tutted Vesemir. “That was rather rude.”

Geralt folded his arms over his chest, leaning back against the door. “What next?” he asked, “What incident from the past is some half-arsed reporter going to use against us next?”

“Geralt’s right,” said Lambert. If any of them had skeletons in their closet, it was probably Lambert. “Eskel?”

Eskel looked thoughtful. He glanced from Vesemir to Geralt, then to Lambert. Finally, he said, “He seems earnest.” That was just like Eskel, to not want to stir the pot and instead give a non-committal answer.

“He seems like a bumbling idiot,” retorted Geralt. He glanced at his phone, where the security feed was still playing. Jaskier was standing on the front steps, looking uncertain, as though half expecting them to come back.

Vesemir sighed. “I suppose I’ve been overruled,” he said, shrugging. “I’m going to the library, I was working on rebinding another book.”

Geralt watched him pass, then looked back to Eskel and Lambert. “Cards?”

-------------

The card game had just started to get really interesting when the doorbell rang again.

Geralt growled and looked back at the security feed again. “It’s him,” he said irritably.

“Well, get rid of him before Papa Vesemir takes in another stray!” said Lambert.

Geralt pushed himself to his feet and stomped back down the hall. He passed the library on his way, and a quick glance inside revealed Vesemir snoozing at a table. Good.

When he opened the door, Jaskier was fiddling with his keys. He’d pulled another coat on over his sweater, and a pair of gloves, but it was clear he’d been unprepared for how quickly the temperature could drop in the mountains. “What?”

“Ah- I- my car won’t start,” he said, swallowing. Clearly he knew he was on thin ice. “I- I tried to call for help, but my phone-”

“There’s no reception here.” Geralt didn’t stop to grab a jacket, stomping outside in his worn button-down and jeans. The cold didn’t bother him the way it did the reporter.

Jaskier had already opened the hood and Geralt leaned over it, inspecting the parts with a quick glance. “It’s the battery,” he said. “I’ll jump it.”

As he turned to head back inside, he cast a glance at the shivering reporter. He growled as he realized what he was going to have to do. “The road is too dangerous at night,” he said. “You can stay here for the evening.”

“R- really?” his breath puffed in the air in front of him, his eyes widening. “Thank you! I-”

Geralt pushed by him, slipping inside. He felt uneasy letting the stranger follow him into the keep, but he’d freeze if he slept in his car. “Don’t wander off,” he said sternly. “Or I’ll let you freeze.” Not to mention, he might fall through a rotten plank.

Jaskier looked around him, surveying the entry hall with wide eyes. The inside of the keep was hardly in better shape than the outside of it, with ancient tapestries covering crumbling walls.

He poked his head into the game room, where Eskel and Lambert were playing cards. “Put a space heater in the guest room, idiot’s car broke down.”

“Aww man,” grumbled Lambert.

“I’ve got it,” said Eskel. “Don’t fucking cheat while I’m gone,” he said to Lambert.

Geralt watched him go, then nodded to Jaskier for the journalist to follow him. Behind him, Lambert was already moving around cards to better his hand.

He took him down to the kitchen, although he still wasn’t entirely sure why. It was just that the man looked as hungry as he did cold. “You eat frozen pizza?”

Jaskier raised an eyebrow. “Are you serious?” he asked. “Of course I eat frozen pizza! Everyone eats frozen pizza! Wait, you have frozen pizza?” he stared at the stove, fridge, and microwave as though he couldn’t understand what he was seeing.

“Sit down,” he said, gesturing to the table. As Jaskier sat, Geralt snatched up a forgotten bottle of White Gull. “Don’t eat anything you find around here,” he said, tucking the Witcher Potion into the cub board. “This would have killed you.”

“How…. Pleasant.”

Once he’d started the oven, Geralt tossed him a beer and sat down across from him.

“Geralt- I- I really can’t say thank you enough,” he said quietly.

“I couldn’t let you die.”

“They say Witchers are heartless.” Jaskier seemed to be studying him, tilting his head curiously. “But I don’t think they are.”

He popped open the beer with his teeth, studying the reporter carefully. “What else do they say about Witchers?”

“That you can smell emotions. Can you?”

Geralt leaned forward, studying Jaskier in return. “To an extent,” he said finally. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had expressed so much interest in him. “It’s a combination of smell and sight.”

“Reading faces?”

Geralt nodded.

“Do you- do you mind terribly if I write this down?”

He ought to say no. Instead, Geralt shook his head. “Go ahead.”

Jaskier pulled a notebook and a pen out from his back, quickly beginning to scribble across the page.

“Why are you so interested in Witchers?”

The journalist seemed to consider his answer. “I’m interested in everything,” he said finally. “But- well, if I’m being honest-”

“Do.”

“I need a breakthrough- something to ah, repair my reputation.”

“So it’s not just out of the kindness of your heart.” It wasn’t a question.

“I’m not going to lie to you, Geralt.”

The Witcher inhaled slightly. “You’re afraid of me.”

“I’m…. Uncomfortable.”

“Why?”

“I’m in a strange house - err, castle? - with three men that are far bigger and stronger than I could ever hope to be. I don’t have cell reception or wi-fi, and my car’s broken down. The only person who knows I’m here is my cousin, and I’m not certain he cares. Oh, and did I mention I like listening to true crime podcasts?”

Geralt thought for a moment, then said, “The wifi password is Axii.”

Jaskier gaped. “You have wi-fi?”

“This isn’t the stone age, Dandelion.”

Jaskier tapped his pen on his notebook. “Were you alive in the stone age?”

Geralt folded his arms over his chest.

“Kidding!” laughed the journalist.

They do call Vesemir “Papa Vesemir” in the game and I love it.

Geralt and Jaskier's first meeting will eventually be told in a prequel story (I'm planning to call it Someone Saved my Life Tonight and it's based on how they met in the books.

[pagalini]

hi, sorry if this is too personal of a question, but i was wondering how you realized you had adhd? i think i may have adhd but i don’t really want to say anything to my family until i am positive? thank you!

Hey there! No worries at all, I’m a very open person. 

I want to start by stressing that I’m currently on the waiting list for NHS assessment, because the UK process for diagnosis is very drawn-out and underfunded. However, though I don’t yet have the piece of paper that “officially” means I have ADHD, myself and my GP agree that I exhibit a lot of the symptoms, and they’ve managed to affect my life to the degree that I need some help. 

The primary symptoms for me - well, my most significant issue involves problems with working memory - myself and my partner call it my “if it’s not in front of me, it’s gone” problem. If I don’t have a task that needs doing literally in eyesight in some way, I will completely blank on needing to do it. I also blank on verbal instruction, and have to ask people to repeat things a lot. I often walk into rooms and then stop, because I’ve forgotten why I’m there. And it’s not just occasional - everyone will walk into a room now and then and be like, wait, why am I here. I do it on a daily basis. I have to keep extensive and strict checklists for even the simplest of tasks, or I’ll forget about it. To set up for the day, I write a to-do list on Habitica, and then I write one on a physical post-it as well, and then if something’s really urgent I write it on my hand just to really make sure I’ll see it. And even then I miss things!

Task initiation is also a problem for me, but it’s at the core of ADHD itself, so that’s not surprising. I’ve always found this symptom troubling, because when I was initially investigating ADHD I didn’t think I had issues with task initiation, but I’ve come to realise through time and through the example of my partner, who definitely doesn’t have ADHD, that I do have it. Important difficult thing that needs doing? Nope. Too Much. I can’t even explain it, that sensation of Nope, Too Much, but it’s like a physical wall between me and the thing that needs to be done. Examples: I’ve needed to get a dentist for literally seven months, and I still haven’t done it. I also once needed to get a car scrapped and took TWO YEARS to actually get it done, and even then it only got done because my dad organised it for me. Exam prep? Oh man. That one’s a double whammy. If I didn’t put a note out for myself, or if I put my books away out of sight, then I’d just forget, and I’d end up cramming literally either the night before or the morning of. I’m quite fortunate in that I’m naturally intelligent, so I was able to “coast” like that through my GCSEs, but then my A Levels came along, and - well. 

How did I realise I had ADHD, you ask? Well. For a lot of people with ADHD, they don’t realise there’s something going on until they hit a “wall.” In my case, I hit two walls a few years apart. The first wall was my A Levels. In the UK we do GCSEs, which are basic broad-spectrum qualifications, and then we do A Levels, which you select yourself and are more tailored to what you want to do in life. The jump from A Level to university undergraduate degree is very small. The jump from GCSEs to A Level is ENORMOUS, and I fell flat on my face. At GCSE level, without retaking any exams and with quite honestly little to no revision, I got fifteen GCSEs. Nine of them were A*s, and two were Bs. The remaining four were all As. The key thing is: I was a really excellent student. 

Then I went up to A Level, and at the end of the first year I got: D, E, C, and U. For non-UK folk - a U if a grade so bad that it’s not even an F for fail - it’s U for unclassified. 

I got 12% on the exam. I was heartbroken and completely lost. Everyone around me was shocked. My biology teacher was so sure there’d been a clerical mistake that she rang the exam board on my behalf! Except - there was no mistake. I’d just completely beefed it, to the nth degree.

Through unbelievable hard work and sheer terror, I managed to retake everything and come out of my A Levels with A, A, B, B. Not what I or anyone who knew me had expected - I’d always been predicted straight A*s - but good grades. Good enough to take the heat off of what had gone wrong, so on I sailed into university and beyond. 

Retail work, retail work, volunteering - I was a busy bee for a few years. Then I got my first Adult Job, which was in editorial. Here was my second wall, and I left after six months to do an MA in Graphic Design, convinced that I must have picked something entirely wrong for me. I was shattered, confused, and it would take me at least a year to even slightly recover. In that year I kept busy, both with my MA, and with my research into ADHD. And the more I read, the more it dawned on me that this might just be the explanation for what had happened to me. 

-

Here are some of the symptoms that really resonated with me then, and still do now:

Focus - I find it incredibly difficult to focus on something I’m not interested in, to the point that my brain just Nopes it. I describe it to the people around me as being like trying to balance a drop of water on a duck’s back. All the water wants to do is slide right off, and while for most people focusing on something they don’t want to do is something they can do even if they don’t like it, for me it’s that balancing act - something that requires all my attention and then some, and often ends in failure. 

Sensitivity - Repetitive noises and actions both drive me absolutely WILD. I can’t stand either. Many a clock has suffered my wrath and had its batteries removed at 3am. Ironic, considering I have a really bad case of RLS (restless leg syndrome) and constantly have to shift around in my seat until I’m a position where I can Jiggle Good. 

Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria - I overreact to negative feedback, taking it as a personal slight or assuming that the person hates me or no longer loves me. It’s an overwhelming thing, an almost physical sensation, and I’ve had quite a few panic attacks over the years because of it. 

I also experience these:

Acting without thinking

Constantly changing activity or task

Difficulty organising tasks

Irregular sleeping patterns / difficulty sleeping

Anxiety

Mood swings & irritability - (this coupled with acting without thinking has ruined a lot of friendships for me over the years. It’s only recently, and with the patient help of my partner, that I’ve been able to slowly change and get a better handle on this aspect of myself)

Starting new tasks before finishing old ones

And on a more positive note, also these:

Creativity (constant racing thoughts mean a lot of ideas)

Information-lust (just gotta KNOW what that xyz means)

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Last but not least, hyperfocus. Where would I be without hyperfocus? It’s what makes me who I am. It’s what lets me speed read books in just a couple of hours, or write two books and a DND campaign of my own despite working however many jobs at the time. It’s what lets me watch a two hour documentary about microscope slides because I “just gotta KNOW, man.” I am ever the font of random facts out of the people I know, and I love that about myself. I love how hungry I am for new information, new skills, and new stories. 

I hope this (very long) post has been helpful. I wish you all the best with your ADHD journey - and please remember, if your doctor is at all dismissive of your experiences, get a second opinion! Especially if you’re female or look feminine - doctors often won’t listen to you anyway but especially so with ADHD because it’s still perceived as a “boy’s condition.” I had to get a second opinion, and in my case the second doctor has been fantastic and is totally on my side while the first was not at all. 

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Trump Asks When Will DOJ Investigate Every Other Living Ex-President But Carter

Really, Trump left Jimmy Carter out of his demand. Good of him. However he did ask when DOJ was going to research each different residing president. From Mediaite: At his Saturday rally in Nevada, ex-president Donald Trump spent a whole lot of time telling the gang that former presidents Invoice Clinton, George W. Bush, George H.W. Bush, and Barack Obama — to not point out Hillary Clinton — have been all a lot worse about retaining paperwork, and that the Mar-a-Lago raid and subsequent investigations are a “hoax.” “When will they examine and prosecute Invoice Clinton, Hillary Clinton, George Bush, and look into what came about with George Bush’s father, a really good man,” requested Trump rhetorically. “And what about Barack Hussein Obama? They need to give me again all the things that they’ve taken,” he added. Trump both can’t perceive the excellence between presidential libraries and his situation or is incapable of seeing the distinction as a result of it ruins his excuse. “Barack Hussein Obama moved greater than 20 truckloads, over 33 million pages of paperwork, each categorised and unclassified, to a poorly constructed and unsafe former furnishings retailer positioned in a nasty neighborhood in Chicago. With no safety, by the way in which,”  No. Barack Hussein Obama (Trump loves his open racism) didn’t transfer something. Obama didn’t assert any possession and didn’t choose which paperwork could be taken. The federal authorities, by way of the Nationwide Archives, did it in contemplation of going into the Obama museum, which turns into a federal repository the second it’s full, and the paperwork nonetheless don’t belong to Obama, by no means did, and by no means will. Trump has at all times believed that everybody sees the world the way in which he does and everybody shares his values and outlook. He essentially can’t perceive why a president wouldn’t assert possession of “what they need” popping out of the White Home. Trump additionally complained that different ex-presidents get handled with deference, they usually take a very long time negotiating who will get what. To the extent that’s true, Trump failed to note that he was given over a yr and a half and the Nationwide Archives did all however… raid Mar-a-Lago, urgent to get the information again lawfully. They’re nonetheless telling Trump’s attorneys that they don’t imagine Trump has given all of them again. Once more, all of it will get again to Trump’s should be a sufferer and his perception that everybody is identical as him in what they care about. He most likely sincerely believes that different presidents needed to maintain super-secret information with a view to “use” sooner or later and did get to maintain them. Trump desires to know when will they prosecute Invoice Clinton, Hillary Clinton, George Bush(and look into his father), and “what about Obama” pic.twitter.com/OqHSQ36ozO — Acyn (@Acyn) October 9, 2022     @JasonMiciak believes a day with out studying is a day not lived. He’s a political author, options author, creator, and legal professional. He’s a Canadian-born twin citizen who spent his teen and school years within the Pacific Northwest and has since lived in seven states. He now enjoys life as a single dad of a younger lady, writing from the seashores of the Gulf Coast. He loves crafting his flower pots, cooking, and at the moment research philosophy of science, faith, and non-math ideas behind quantum mechanics and cosmology. Please be at liberty to contact for talking engagements or any issues. Supply hyperlink Originally published at SF Newsvine