#a serious meltdown (especially in someone who has them frequently)

[fairymoe]

Explaining a bit of my autistic experience and frustration

Today I feel exasperated, and nothing has even really happened! Nothing except feeling like an outcast who can’t talk about their experience because I know I won’t be understood. Basically, I feel very frustrated about how I feel it is unsafe and unacceptable to talk about my experience as an undiagnosed autistic individual in the ways that feel most authentic to me. I feel completely over having to “soften the blow” for neurotypical people, especially my family, when I talk about my autism. I'm done using the words such as, “I suspect I'm autistic.”, or “I self-identify as neurodivergent.” It's like, no, I don’t just *think* I’m autistic, I KNOW I am autistic. I am not delusional or manic. Call it aspergers, or mild autism if you want, I don’t care. I just want to be able to express what is true for me, to be allowed, after hours of research poured into what autism looks like for late diagnosed female people, to use the label that I feel fits me the best without feeling ashamed or like it will ostracize me or lead to criticism. I just want to be able to put the appropriate label to the experiences that make up who I am, to validate myself that I’m not “weird” or “annoying”- two of the many labels OTHER people have given me in my life to explain their understanding of my neurodivergence.

I feel like there is this very common sort of bias around the idea that you shouldn't say you're autistic until you get a diagnosis. I understand that this thought exists in many other families like mine. Because of fear mongering, misrepresentation and hate, autism is seen as a “scary diagnosis” for a lot of people due to the stigmatizing beliefs so many people hold, believe, and have been taught about the disorder. Another factor is often disbelief, because most autistic people in tv and the media all fit into 2 very particular niches - firstly, the “low functioning” autistic child who is frequently portrayed either having a loud and outwardly expressed meltdown and wearing noise canceling headphones, and secondly the white male savant/ socially awkward genius working as a doctor or other highly specialized professional. The vast majority of autistic people do not fit into these categories, and so if you don’t have a person with an autism diagnosis in your family it is very easy to miss the signs of autism, especially in children like the child I was - traumatized, and living in very dangerous situations where learning to mask any signs of difference or peculiarity was essential for both your literal physical and social survival. 

I think it’s strange that most of the people in my family wouldn’t trust my judgment about my OWN EXPERIENCE if I told them the label I used to describe it was “autistic”. I mean, what about all the other things I had a pre-sense about before I was diagnosed? What about my depression? I knew I was depressed before I was diagnosed with depression. I knew I was extremely anxious and probably had an anxiety disorder before I was diagnosed with generalized anxiety. I highly suspected that I was bipolar and had been doing so much research about it just a few months before I was admitted to hospital for a serious manic episode and diagnosed. So why is autism different? I have been researching autism since I was 15, and even during that manic episode I was insisting that I was autistic, and everyone told me I was delusional - But I was just excited about reading and listening to other peoples experiences and struggles  that sounded strikingly familiar to me, - to all the things I had buried so deeply since I was a little kid, and the resulting experience that shaped who I was growing up. I kept many many things hidden, and because I was so reserved, I understand why the adults in my life at the time felt that I was delusional. Even a few years before, if someone would have told me I was autistic,  I probably would have denied it and explained my particularities and shyness as pure introversion.

But during the self growth and healing journey I’m still going through, I  have found other people like me with very similar experiences in their social lives, in how they interpreted the world, how their brains worked, and many of them, friends such as paige hess, had autism or now have autism diagnoses. But don’t get me wrong - I am not self diagnosing purely based on my friend’s traits, that would be ridiculous. As I mentioned earlier, I have done a lot of other research that was less subjective. I’ve read academic articles about research done with autistic people, read over some of the most common experiences that fit in line with the DSM-5, read about how autism looks different for female people and how certain kinds of experiences might shape someone’s expression of their autism. Basically, being able to grow up, and being truly engaged in therapy for the first time in my life in the last 3 or so years has helped me realize how much I was repressing, natural urges such as stimming, that I had repressed for so long. I realized why even though I was really “good” at school, I never felt like the learning stuck because I wasn’t able to learn in the way that worked with how my brain works. In my continuous attempt to “be normal” and stop the voice in my head that continuously told me I was weird and never good enough, my perfectionism gave me a sense of control and was built on the social “rules” that I couldn’t name but somehow understood how to follow, not because they were natural to me, but because I had been observing them in social situations and unconsciously taking notes. (I’m really good at pattern recognition). All these things started coming undone, all these tendencies and mannerisms and behaviors, like a very tight knot starting to loosen and come undone inside of me. And instead of trying to keep that knot done up nice and snug, for the first time in my life i’m letting it unravel, and picking up the thread and looking at it with curiosity instead of shame or embarrassment. 

[thistangledbrain]

Day 19 & 20!

Day 19 - “I hate it when...”

As you’ve gleaned from prior posts, I hate it when you forget autism is a developmental disorder and not an intellectual one. We are so. Fucking. Tired. Of being treated as lesser, or like we don’t understand what you’re saying to us.

Outside of the reactions to others’ behavior, though, I have some personal “I hate it when”...I’ve let you into my mind and told you what I appreciate about how my brain works, but there are things I don’t like, for sure.

I hate that personal stressor things trigger a toddler-like need to SHUT DOWN. Like writing this blog, for example...the vulnerability I feel usually leads to a need to go to sleep for a long time, once I’m finished. Or after a long day socializing. I don’t want to talk to anyone, I don’t want to engage my brain anymore, I just need to shut all systems down and sleep. Especially if there’s been a meltdown (meltdown—->shutdown)...and oh boy do I hate meltdowns. They’re really rare, thank dog.

I hate that my executive function is an absolute bag of ass. This is probably the biggest thing I would change. It got infinitely worse when my disability got bad (EDS), for some reason. And it drives me up the damn wall.

I hate my low function days/moments. It’s like my brain just won’t kick into gear, or the gears and wheels are rusty and grinding, & it’s rather anxiety inducing. I usually “hide” on my low days, sometimes in my darkened bedroom, and watch favorite shows or movies, or get lost in a good book - if I can. On low days I find myself re-reading crap constantly because it’s not making any sense, so I’ll even avoid complicated recipes...I have no idea why these days/moments happen, but boy do they piss me off/make me anxious (that’s kind of the same thing for me. My anxiety nearly always manifests as anger). On my low days, you’ll see (if you were a fly on the wall, because I suppress this even around my own family), me walking in tight, anxious figure 8’s and flapping my hands in a distressed way, as I anxiously try to mentally kick my brain into gear. (It doesn’t work, but it IS a little soothing. And my dogs are SO sweet...they gather around me tightly and just seem to know I need them.)

🤷🏻‍♀️ There’s probably more I could expound on that I don’t like, but writing this one has been pretty distasteful. I try not to dwell on things I hate anymore, so I’ve put this entry down multiple times and come back to it when I’m in a decent frame of mind. I think I’m tired of talking about it now, so I’m gonna just stop talking.....

Which is a good segue into Day 20 -

————————————-

“Communication”

Ahh communication. This entry will be long, because I have a lot to communicate LOL....

Personally, I write far more coherently and eloquently than I speak. My brain goes too fast...I often trip over words; my brain’s three steps ahead of what’s coming out of my mouth and I get scrambled sometimes. I can also take the time to think about what I want to say/HOW I want to say it. Like many autistics, I’m a blurter. LOL...I am constantly trying to remind myself, just because I think it, doesn’t mean I have to say it. This gets a LOT of us in trouble...one of my most memorable examples is, I *loudly* blurted “that’s BULLSHIT!!” in a church one time. (I was speaking on how my devout Methodist grandmother, who regularly takes communion at her church, was not permitted to receive communion in a Catholic church, merely because she isn’t Catholic, despite the fact that this woman is all about some Jesus & a devoted churchgoer - not just on Easter and Christmas.) In my defense, it WAS (IS) bullshit. I just didn’t need to practically yell that in church. As you can imagine, it was like a needle scratching across a record & everyone turned to stare. (My poor husband rescued me.) 🤦🏻‍♀️ Sigh. It’s a good idea to keep me out of most church services.

I am rather famous (infamous?) for calling bullshit straight to someone’s face, BLUNTLY. It’s out of my mouth before my brain’s “tact gatekeeper” I’ve spent over a decade trying to train is even half awake at his post (it’s a him because my husband is the one who taught me how to use tact in the first place. And it’s a him because said “gatekeeper” is lazy and falls asleep on the job all the time 😆). Have you ever just blurted your honest thoughts and heard shocked gasps or someone just busts out laughing? Yeah. That happens to me regularly. Or uncomfortable chuckles and someone will blink a few times and say, “oohhhkay, well, you could said that a different way.” (My old response to that was, I’m not responsible for what your reaction is to what I say...you’re in charge of your own feelings. I *understand* now how irresponsible and unfeeling that is, and I try to keep that in the front of my mind, even when I’m frustrated and nearly burning up with the desire to speak my thoughts in their raw form, but this is routinely an area I struggle to adapt to...and I am very sorry when I hurt someone I care about.)

On the other side of this same coin though, this is a trait my friends respect deeply, because I’m not cruel hearted or anything. You always know where you stand with me, and I’m the last person to try and lie to you. I SUUUUUCK at lying. And on the rare times when I do, I usually end up eventually telling on myself (this drove my older stepsister NUTS when we were kids, because she liked to do lots of sneaky things, and I don’t have an inherently sneaky nature LOL...so “DO NOT tell momma” was a *serious* risk for her, if she let me tag along 😂). Lying to someone just feels disgusting. Oily. Shameful. I hate lying. Plus, my short term memory is a grabasstic bag of CRAP, so there’s a good chance I won’t remember the lie and get caught anyway. 🤷🏻‍♀️ My boys also suck at lying or hiding stuff, and generally prefer not to...but I also give them a safe forum to be honest. (I’m sure there’s LOTS of crap I don’t know, but you’d be surprised how much they DO tell me.)

Another thing with me personally is that I go mute sometimes. I’m not being deliberately obstinate. I’m not REFUSING to speak in those moments...sometimes I literally can’t, and the effort of doing so will make me gag, or even projectile vomit. Sounds very dramatic, doesn’t it? It is. (And it annoys the SHIT out of me.) There’s not a fucking thing i can do about it. The movement of my tongue in my mouth will literally begin to trigger my gag reflex, and if I try to power through it, I’m rewarded with my lunch returning to the surface anyway, regardless of my desires, and sometimes rather unexpectedly & violently. USUALLY this happens when I’m uber stressed, but sometimes it seems kind of out of the blue & catches even me off guard. If this happens but I still have something to say, I start texting instead, and explain. Most people - especially my hubby - are very kind when this happens. (I don’t want your pity, I just want you to switch to written communication for a minute until I can figuratively kick the fuck out of the engine in my “speaking center” and get it to work again.) Other times, I will literally get tired of talking. Like my mouth and tongue - and somehow, the “word forming” part of my brain feels physically exhausted (weird, I know, but I also spend the vast majority of my life silent - I am home alone all day, hate talking on the phone, and simply don’t speak much, by choice. So maybe it is actual “mouth fatigue” 😂😂😂 - I’ve stopped eating before because I just got tired of chewing, too, even though I’m still somewhat hungry. 🙄) I am usually *perfectly* happy to keep listening! And I’ll stay engaged in the conversation usually. I am just...done audibly talking. I’ll literally say “my mouth is tired of making the sounds now, but please keep going”...but I think my husband is the only one who doesn’t find this unusual, and rolls with it. It usually happens after a long, animated conversation...instead of winding down, though, it just..stops. If I try to keep going, cue the gagging. I can stay engaged in the conversation if you let me start writing/typing instead of speaking, for my responses. So that’s a “fun” little trait of mine that many neurotypicals find unsettling. Please don’t take it personally. My mouth just doesn’t want to make the words anymore - and I’m probably mostly done adding what I needed to add to the conversation anyway. I’m a great listener when this happens, though. 😆

Communication is a really interesting thing with all of us, because it’s a struggle on one level or another. I will tell you, it’s a frequent topic in my groups. “WHY CAN’T NEUROTYPICALS JUST SAY WHAT THE FUCK THEY MEAN?!?! 😩😩😩” I’m dead serious - you might think, because we’re sensitive (generally), we can’t “handle” it? You’d be so very wrong. What we can’t handle is when you dance around a subject or we have to try and translate what you just said to us (which most of us are not that good at). Just fucking say it! Nine times out of ten, you’ll just get a look of dawning realization and a “oh, shit, okay” response. We can handle it. Just. Say. It. We’ll respect you a lot more in the morning, LOL 😆

I think every autistic has some sort of beef with neurotypicals when it comes to communication (as I’m sure you have yours with us, obviously).

You guys operate under some weird ass rules that we simply don’t understand - especially if you don’t tell us those rules & just expect us to know. Like, if my husband hadn’t patiently taken years to show/teach me how the way I said certain things were hurtful, I would still be in the “yeah she’s cool but she’s kind of an asshole” territory. (I still struggle to grasp this, or at least it still frustrates me....truth is truth, whether it’s an ironclad general fact or your own personal truth - and yes sometimes the truth hurts, but like...I don’t pin any responsibly for that on the truth teller, if that makes sense?)

Working in rescue also helped hone my ability to speak “neurotypically” to others - I work with a LOT of women, and boy do a lot of them NOT appreciate when you bluntly tell them what you think. Men on the other hand....

I know *lots* of autistic women who prefer friendships with men, largely centering around this communication thing. We hurt men’s feelings a little less regularly than other women’s. I know I was like that, until I got a little more used to how I have to modify my communication with most women (but that annoys me, I’m gonna be honest - it annoys my Autie friends, too). The only time I am as starkly blunt as I used to be, is when speaking to my female Autie friends (because they can handle it), or most of the dudes I’m friends with. But if my message is getting “lost in the sauce” and you’re not getting my point, I usually give a frustrated sigh, WARN you that I’m about to tell you flatly what I need to say, because we aren’t getting anywhere, and just say it.

Yes I am the friend who, when you gush on and on about your new back yard bred puppy, talking all about how you’re gonna breed him when he grows up, is gonna flatly say “he’s not breeding quality”, if they’re not. Then I’m gonna ask you why you want to do such a thing, given that you’re aware of the massive load of rescue dogs (PARTICULARLY Great Danes and Cane Corsos) - and probably beat your argument down every step of the way. That doesn’t always go badly though - one of my closest friends was considering breeding their dog, and while it was a beautiful dog, it was not one that should reproduce (from an “improve the breed” perspective). We barely knew each other, but I gained a reputation for being kind but starkly honest...and I knew what I was talking about...and now I have this person’s deep respect, and they have mine (because they listened and did the research I asked them to - and did not add to the breed population). So it’s not *always* a trainwreck, because the people who end up respecting how I communicate, usually end up VERY close friends. AND I WANT THAT IN RETURN, which is refreshing for a LOT of people. I want your dead honesty in return - PLEASE. It’s so much easier for me to process and accept. For example, my house is almost constantly in some sort of disarray. I have one friend who will come in and go, “girl. I almost can’t breathe in here - this clutter is too much”(and then she offers to help me tackle it!!).

Or, fairly recently, “oh my god those curtains are so horrible, I hope you’re getting rid of those when you redo this room.”

“But I MADE those curtains! I love that print!”

“Ugh. No. They’re terrible. Get rid of them.”

My feelings were not hurt in the LEAST (I of course had a flash of “you bitch, I was so excited to find that print and I MADE THOSE, ya jerk” 😂). At first I said, “well you’re just gonna have to suck it up and deal with my shitty curtains, because I like them” 😂, but then as I was redoing the room, I took them down...and it DID look a lot better, so I left them down 😂😂😂....

So I guess my point with all this is: every autie I know deeply wishes you’d just fucking spit it out. We WILL often miss or misinterpret the point if you “fluff” it too much (around my neck of the woods, we call it putting too much gild on the lily, though I’ve never understood that one. Idk if a “gilded lily” is/was ever a thing, why anyone would gild a lily in the first place...LOTS of us struggle with colloquialisms that don’t make literal sense. 😆 Recently a friend was baffled over “shit in one hand and wish in the other and see which fills up faster”, and fully half of the respondents to her post were people baffled by why anyone would shit in their hand - I and a couple others had to explain, and it just ended with them going “well that’s a fucking stupid saying anyway, and wishes aren’t things you can put in your hands, either” 😂😂😂...but I’m from the south, and these things are just part of our vocab. MOST of them are easy to grasp for me, like “nervous as a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs”, because I immediately picture it and can grasp the meaning. But others I don’t get - the gilded lily is one LOL)...

We are LITERAL AS FUCK. It’s why we ruin lots of jokes, too. My poor husband is the dad joke king - and I ruin fully 1/3 or more of his jokes by being too literal (which he also finds amusing, so that’s good). Sometimes we realize we’re ruining the joke but we don’t care, because it’s dumb, or we just .... can’t....HELP IT. 😩😂

Jeez, I could almost write all day about autistics and communication LOL!!

But to summarize (and not succinctly, sorry), I guess, for me and many many others...we are often blunt, direct, almost painfully honest, and very, very literal. Your unspoken rules of communication absolutely go over our heads, unless you - yannow - *communicate* and explain them. We’ll probably tell you those rules are stupid and exhausting, but we will TRY and stick to it as best we can. But see, we literally have to think about every single word that comes out of our mouths, because we communicate far more directly than you weird fuckers do. And it is literally actually exhausting. It’s not an easily natural thing for us to adapt to, your weird way of saying things but not saying what you really mean. You’re wasting a LOT of words there, sir, and we are now getting obsessively confused over why you would do such a thing. 😂 It’s also why I keep getting banned from Facebook. My recent one was because I said - in one of my Autie “safe” groups, where I should be able to just say what I mean - that I tend to punch or want to punch people who deliberately startle the shit out of me. We were talking about how stupid April Fool’s Day was, and how we hate pranks. Three of us got banned for 30 days for just...well. Facebook called it “incitement of violence”. 🙄🥺🖕🏼🖕🏼🖕🏼🖕🏼🖕🏼🖕🏼🖕🏼🖕🏼

But I haven’t met - yet, maybe? - an autistic person who is cruel natured - not one of us gets any joy from being a bully type. WE feel everything on a higher level, so we kind of assume you do, too...you might think, “then why are you such an asshole?!”, but it’s simply that we - or every Autie I know, anyway - struggle to grasp how directly communicating your feelings is so fuckin hard or hurtful for y’all. I think anyone struggles to grasp something they themselves don’t experience. All you have to do is explain, though, and keep guiding us towards communicating in ways that we both find acceptable. I mean we’re champs at accepting all manner of different human - regardless of race, sexuality, and so on - but the communication is one area that frustrates the ever loving SHIT out of most of us, because it makes so little logical sense why anyone would say a bunch of useless words that muddy up their intent.

My closing advice? Help Your Pet Autie ™️ (this is absolutely a tongue in cheek term btw) understand how you’d like to be communicated with, and guide us. BE SPECIFIC for fucks sake - we suck at guessing what you might want, and it’s so frustrating that we’ll often just stop communicating at all. Instead of saying “it hurts me when you say this”, try saying “the WAY you said this hurt my feelings because of ____. Maybe you could put it like this instead” (or, “you know, you should really just keep shit like that to yourself”) and *give examples*. Don’t expect us to come up with different ways of saying shit, because we don’t understand what it is specifically you want, and it’s not very logical, therefore it’s not “natural” for us. Plus, everyone is different. I can’t talk to one of my sons the same way I can talk to the other, without certain negative reactions. Give us a chance to know your needs - we DO CARE!!! - but be CLEAR. I know in your world, tact is a big deal, but MOST of us will miss the fucking point if you’re too tactful (and when we misinterpret, we always err on the side of worst case scenario, and make the issue wayyyyy bigger than it should be. Being clear is soooo important).

And hey. Maybe it’ll help clear up some communication in other areas of your life. Being clear isn’t a license to be a fucking asshole; nobody’s giving you a license to unleash on everyone about how much you can’t stand humans...if WE hafta be quiet about that, so do you lmao...fair’s fair. 😆 But quit hedging and hinting and hoping we will pick up on the whatever your grievance is - because we won’t. We’ll just know you’re unhappy, and start panicking over guessing what we did wrong, and just shut down, because we have no idea.

Just. Fucking. Say it. 😘

[joemuggs]

James Blake: Before Before

James Blake has a new EP out, called ‘Before’. It’s really good. I like him, he’s authentic. I’ve spoken to him on and off since he very first released music, and it’s been interesting to see his transformation from north London bohemian to LA superstar bohemian. Below is the text of the first time I interviewed him - I think the first feature length interview he did - from Mixmag in 2010. 

James Blake is good at confounding expectations. At a recent gig at Shoreditch's warehouse-like XOYO, Mixmag saw the 22-year-old play a super-heavyweight mutant dubstep set, then immediately afterwards start larking about with Beyonce and Ms Dynamite tunes, much to the delight of the messy ravers – and yet the tune that's getting him known outside clubland is the deeply odd Feist cover 'Limit to your Love' with its haunted croon and folky repetitions. So, when we catch up with him in a Brixton pub a few days after the gig, we make a point of asking him what his ultimate musical ambition is – thinking it might reveal a common thread that draws these disparate sides together. "I'd like to play a solo piano show at Carnegie Hall," he says without hesitation, referring to one of the most renowned classical venues in the world, which has also played host to legendary shows by the likes of the Beatles and Pink Floyd; "maybe not even singing, just the piano." We think he means it.

That's how he is, though: pretty much every tune he's put out so far has come as a curveball. Going from the soulful mutant dubstep of 'CMYK' – which has ruled underground clubs all year – to the four tracks of gorgeous, weightless piano-laced electronica on his 'Klavierwerke' EP alone was a more radical shift than most artists his age would even think of making. But to then not only make the leap to the intense weirdness of 'Limit to your Love', but to make it work to the point where it is all over radio and sitting alongside 'CMYK' in everyone's “best of 2010” lists demonstrates a boldness that it making heads spin throughout the industry, and generating the sort of anticipation for his major label album that doesn't come around often. In a climate of insane gener meltdowns and turbulence stirred up by dubstep's big push into the mainstream, he truly is the maverick's maverick.

So, we ask him, what is with all of these stylistic shifts? “I get bored!” he laughs. “When I get a sound, like the 'Klavierwerke' tracks, I will just do it and do it until I literally can't do it any more, so then I just have to move on and do something different.” There's an intense air about James, not in the nerdy or over-serious way you sometimes get with electronica musos – quite the opposite, in fact: he's fun and engaging company, and our interview quite frequently gets derailed into just chatting away merrily about tunes, nights out and mutual acquaintances – but nonetheless with a fierce intelligence on display and a maturity way beyond his years. He'll fix you in the eye when he speaks, but often, especially when talking about music that he loves, his gaze will divert up and to the side, darting back and forth as if browsing some inner database to locate exactly the right reference, and he speaks with the clarity and lucidity of someone who has spent a serious amount of time thinking about their plans and beliefs.

As you might expect given the strangeness and diversity of his music, James's upbringing as an only child in the London suburb of Enfield, wasn't entirely conventional. His artist mother and singer/guitarist dad never listened to pop radio but played vintage blues and soul constantly – then as soon as James took up playing the piano his musical interest focused 100% on that. “I listened to Art Tatum and Errol Garner, and I listened to Bach and Satie and Chopin,” he explains; “it wasn't about being into a style, it wasn't a jazz thing or a classical thing, it was just piano, just technique.” And that was that – until finally he discovered dubstep as a teenager, and instantly realised that this could be, as he puts it, “a vehicle” for his musical ideas. “It was,” he says, “just massive for me.”

Listening to the likes of DMZ's Mala made him realise that electronic music had possibilities like the blues he grew up with: “it has that thing where if the ideas and the personality of the artist are strong enough, they can do whatever the fuck they like – Mala could take one simple idea and stretch it out for ages, and it would just work because it's him, and because it has that dread and intensity, and you go with it because you trust him.” It also gave him a way to be musically creative without simply relying on his previous schooling. “When I hear a producer is 'classically trained',” he scowls, “I'm suspicious, to me it's usually a euphemism for 'doesn't have any ideas'. Just because you can read the dots on the score and play complex pieces doesn't mean you have any ability to come up with something new.”

Music production took over his life completely from then on. “I went through a lot of shit, but once I got to 18, 19,” he says, “I just decided that I didn't really give a shit about anyone else. Not friends, not girls – I mean, girls are great...” – he flashes a grin – “...but I didn't want to be distracted. And I didn't want to socialise for the sake of it, go to some shit club just because my mates were, I knew that music was my focus and that was that. I knew from my parents that if you're serious about your creativity you have to be alone a lot.” He did, however, very quickly make connections with fellow one-offs Mount Kimbie and Jack Dunning aka Untold. The latter, after hearing a DJ play one of his demos on Rinse FM got in touch and became something of a mentor, releasing James's first 12” on his own Hemlock label. Mount Kimbie also got in touch after James sent them “a really gushing email about their music” and ended up performing live with him on vocals.

From thereon in, things snowballed fast, with dancefloor-oriented releases on Ramdanman and friends' Hessle Audio and the legendary Belgian techno label R&S – but he was also honing a freakier sound: the sparse, folky vocal tracks that would make up his new album. Only three other people got to hear these initially– Untold, this Mixmag correspondent, and a friend of James's who works for major label A&M records and persuaded them to take a punt. These all feature James extraordinary and emotionally intense singing voice, and are, he says , all about restraint. “I get fed up when people keep describing me as a 'soul' singer, because I'm not,” he insists – “I don't let rip, I just sing the notes as I write them. It's like the production: I don't want to just bang away, I use silence and quiet for effect, and then when it does build up to something tougher it hits much harder in contrast.” And he makes a surprisingly violent punching motion.

The result is something that is both completely removed from trends, and perfectly suited to the current climate of genre meltdown. It's possible to hear everything from ancient echoes of folk and blues to the influence of the crispest modern hip hop, particularly the anything-goes aesthetic of Outkast, who James says are “the Beatles of today, maybe not in sales, but definitely in importance and technical innovation.” It also completely tramples over the idea of dubstep as macho, with a real sexual ambiguity to both James's voice and playing. This is very deliberate: one of his greatest desires is “to learn to play piano in a female way – there's a particular way that Joni Mitchell plays, and also Nina Simone, that is technically incredible but isn't flash, that supports the voice without coming too much into the foreground, yet is incredibly beautiful in its own right.”

There's no disconnect from the dancefloor in any of this, though. He still talks with passion about dancing to his friend Joy Orbison's DJ sets in small, dark clubs - “at one point I completely lost track of where I was, and felt plugged into something bigger,” he says, “like the music was joined into a wider history” - and at XOYO Mixmag witnessed at first hand how even his oddest, most strung-out tracks have a sense of dance dynamics that grabs people on a very basic level. Surveying XOYO's punters, we met everyone from electronica dorks who proclaimed him “the deepest British producer since the Aphex Twin” through indie hipsters waxing lyrical about his voice, to a couple of girls in borderline hysterics about how fit he is (James is indeed striking looking, not to mention well over six foot tall). With this breadth of support, the sky would seem to be the limit for James right now; but whether in five years he's perfoming solo piano or singing with Andre 3000, evidence suggests the results will be beyond anyone's abilities to predict.

[eldritchsurveys]

834.

How have you been feeling lately? Have you been doing ok? >> Eh. As long as nothing unpredictable happens, I’m mostly fine... but I’ve also had at least two meltdowns in the past week, so “mostly fine” is obviously a cover-up of some sort. I don’t really know what to do about it, so I am kind of just holding my breath through every day, hoping I don’t lose it over something trivial.

Are you currently in quarantine? >> No, the stay-at-home order has been lifted. Still not really going anywhere, though.

Do you wear a mask when you go to the store? >> We didn’t this past weekend, which I don’t feel great about, but I ordered a bandana yesterday so I’ll hopefully have it before this coming weekend.

Does your state require people to wear masks in stores? >> Well, they say they require it, but we were definitely not the only people in stores without masks on. So I don’t know what the deal is with that. I think maybe stores are weighing how much it’s worth having to deal with irate customers who can’t stand being turned away for not complying with the mask rule (Michigan is, after all, the state where armed protesters stormed the capitol building to harass the governor for extending the stay-at-home order...). Regardless, now that I will actually have a face covering next time, I’m going to use it.

Do you know anyone who's had the coronavirus? >> No.

What was the last sweet treat you ate? >> I ate part of a lemon coconut cookie.

Was it a nice day out today? >> It’s pretty nice, yeah.

Is the weather nice where you live usually? >> Usually? I wouldn’t say that. Winter lingers around here for a long time, and winter does not usually bring pleasant weather (in my opinion). Also, we get a lot of wacky lake-effect weather.

What was the last thing you ordered online? >> A bandana. It has a Baphomet on it, heh.

Are you expecting a package right now? >> Well, yeah, the bandana. Should be here Thursday or Friday (it’d better be, considering I paid extra for quicker shipping).

Have you ever ordered anything from Wish? If so, what did you buy, and did you feel it was worth it? >> I haven’t, but Sparrow’s ordered stuff from them. I think she likes everything she’s gotten (although she hasn’t gotten everything she’s ordered, which is annoying).

Are you a youtuber? If so, are you consistent with uploads? and how many subscribers do you have? >> I am not, nor would I ever be, a youtuber.

What is one thing you hate about summer? >> Heat waves. I like warmth, but too hot is too hot.

Did you go outside today? >> Not yet.

What is the name of your youtube channel, if you have one? >> ---

What was the name of the last store or restaurant that overcharged you? >> I can’t recall being overcharged anywhere.

Is your room more often messy or clean? >> On the cleaner side than the messier side.

Who is someone you miss? >> ---

What is something you miss? >> ---

Do you feel like your emotions are often haywire? >> I feel like that pretty frequently, yeah. I’m either having no emotions or having a veritable perfect storm of them, and I’d really like to find a fucking balance at some point.

Have you ever received a misdiagnosis from a doctor? >> I’ve mostly received misdiagnoses from doctors.

Have you ever been "diagnosed" with a mental illness from an online friend? who is not a doctor? If yes, isn't that frustrating? >> Nah, I’ve not had that experience.

Do you have any friends that you can trust and tell everything to? >> ---

What was the name of your favorite roommate you've had? >> ---

Do you have a favorite book that you've read multiple times? >> Yeah, there are a few books I’ve read multiple times.

What's one book or book series that you've read multiple times? >> I’ve read Dreamcatcher by Stephen King at least twice.

Have you ever had an embarrassing bathroom accident? >> Yeah.

What was the name of the funniest kid you've ever babysat? >> ---

Do you enjoy babysitting? >> Never done it.

Do you have any big regrets? >> No.

Are there things about your past that bother you? >> I mean... I’m post-traumatic, lmao.

What was the last thing you saw or read on social media that made you angry? >> That doesn’t really happen to me.

Do you often post about controversial topics on facebook? >> I don’t post on facebook at all.

Do you think it's a good idea to post about serious topics on social media? or do you think that it's better to discuss serious topics in person? >> I think that a lot of misunderstanding happens on social media that could possibly be avoided or at least worked through with more efficiency in person. I do say possibly, because like, who knows, really. But there are many discussions I wouldn’t bother getting into on social media (especially where other people can see it and jump in with their two cents), that I might be more willing to discuss one-on-one with a person in a controlled environment. Which is why I hate that people don’t use IM/DM functions more often for working through sensitive topics (like “I have a problem with something you said in [x] post and I would like to work it out with you” or whatever), instead of turning it into a public fucking debate.

What was your favorite book you had to read for school? >> Their Eyes Were Watching God.

Have you ever failed a class and had to repeat it? >> No, I got no credit for a class and had to repeat it.

What class in school did you hate the most? >> All of them lmao

Have you ever wanted to be a teacher? >> Fuck no.

What's one childhood dream that has stuck with you, and one that has not? >> ---

Would you want to re-live your childhood over again if you could? >> FUCK NO.

Which do you like more: being an adult or being a kid? >> I vastly prefer being an adult where I have at least some semblance of agency and control over my own life, instead of being subject to the whims of people who don’t actually care about what I want or need or feel but are mostly thinking about what they want out of me.

At what age were you when you started to feel like you were mature enough to offer others advice? >> I don’t recall having this thought, like, ever. I offer advice when someone’s asked for it and I feel like I have some to offer. I don’t give a fuck what my age is.

Did your parents smoke or drink when you were growing up? >> No.

Do you enjoy bonfires? >> Yes.

Have you ever stepped on a sparkler? >> No.

What, do you know of, are you allergic to? >> Nothing.

Have you ever ridden in an ambulence? >> Yep, front and back.

What is your favorite version of the Bible to read, if applicable? >> I prefer the NIV for just regular reading, but ngl, the KJV has some turns of phrase that can be really poetic-sounding in certain verses.

Do you follow trends? or are you a trendsetter? >> Literally neither. I just do what I want.

Has anyone ever described you as a trendsetter? >> No.

Do you know anyone who used to be loving, but then turned cold? List three people you've known whom this has happened to. >> I don’t know anyone like that, which is good, because that is definitely red-flag behaviour.

What SAT subjects, if any, did you get a perfect score in? >> ---

What were your best subjects in school? and what was your favorite subject in school? >> ---

Have you ever been abused by a parent or legal guardian? >> Yes.

Do you have a lot of wounds from your past? >> Nope. Not a single one.

Has anyone ever called you a jerk? >> Probably.

Are you a jerk? >> Probably.

What color were your bedroom walls in high school? >> I assume they were the Nothing(tm) colour that is standard in apartment complexes.

Is there a girl or guy you wish you hadn't let slip away? >> No.

Is there an old friend that you miss and would like to reconnect with? >> No.

Who has hurt you the most? >> Sigh.

Have you been bullied? >> Yes.

Which talent show, if any, would you most like to audition for? and have you auditioned for one? >> I would rather die.

Do you know anyone who's auditioned for American Idol? >> No, but I know someone who auditioned for X Factor, which is largely the same concept.

Is there someone you think should audition that hasn't yet? >> No. I don’t think anyone should audition for those stupid ass shows.

What time of day do you usually feel your best? >> There is no time of day when that’s likely to happen. It depends more on my actual mental state than what time of day it is.

What's one way in which you've changed within the last ten years? >> Oh, you know, stuff.

Do you feel like time goes by fast, or slow? >> To me, it just... passes?

Who do you know who has died of cancer? >> No one.

Has there been cancer in your family? >> I don’t know.

Have you ever stayed overnight in a hospital, and if so, what for? >> Yeah. For being suicidal, or for being self-injurious, or because people just plain thought it’d be a fun thing to do to me, I don’t fucking know.

Have you ever been a victim of police misconduct? >> No.

Have you ever been so angry you wanted to sue someone? >> That... would be such a strange response to being angry at someone. For me, anyway. I don’t know, maybe it makes sense to other people. I stick to Old Reliable -- wanting to beat them to a pulp or something.

Have you ever been a victim of racism? >> I mean, probably.

Have you ever deleted a friend on facebook for making racist comments? >> No. Luckily, that’s never happened to me.

What was the last thing you ate? >> Veggie burger and chips.

What was the theme of your senior prom? >> Damned if I remember, that was like 15 years ago.

Did you go to prom? >> Yeah.

Have ever been engaged or married? >> Yeah.

Are you an aunt or uncle? >> Technically.

Do you live to glorify God and to do His will? >> No.

Are you happy with the way you are living your life day-to-day right now? >> I mean, there are worse ways to live. At least I get to decide for myself what I do with my day.

Do you feel like your life was better or worse six years ago? >> It was definitely worse. That’s not even something to question.

Have you ever made a huge, catastrophic mistake? >> I don’t think any of my mistakes qualify for such a dramatic adjective.

What's one need of yours that is currently not being met? >> ---

Do you feel like you are currently in a state of suffering? and that not all of your basic needs are being met? If so, how long have you been in a state of suffering? >> Not that kind of suffering, no -- I’ve been in that state, where most of my basic needs were not at all being met, and I’m very grateful to not have to live like that anymore. Unfortunately, living like that for extended periods of time tends to have lasting effects, which is [part of] what I’m dealing with right now.

Do you hate social injustice? >> Nah, I love it. It’s just great. It’s the best thing ever--

Are you happy with the current social class you are in? >> I’m in that strange limbo where I, as an individual, am poverty-class, but since I am part of a household where the other person works a relatively okay job for a living, I get the benefits of being working-class. We’re still low-income by modern urban standards, though. Anyway, I’m fine with that for the most part, but that’s also because I’m used to being literally penniless so anything is better than that.

Do you feel like you are being given what you deserve right now? >> What the fuck do I deserve? What does that even mean? No one owes me anything.

Life isn't fair. True or false? >> I mean, true, I guess.

Do you hate that life is so unfair? >> I don’t really think about life that way. It’s people who have the option to be fair or unfair (and who have the option to perceive of things as fair or unfair); life is just... life.

Name a few people who seem to have everything handed to them. >> I don’t know anyone like that.

Who do you go to when you're upset? >> Can Calah.

Do you pray less or more than you did 5 years ago? >> I didn’t pray then and I don’t pray now, so... the same.

Do you pray a lot? >> No.

Do you frequently have back pain? >> No.

What's the worst side effect you've experienced for a medication? and what's the worst withdrawal effect you've experienced from a medicine? >> The last time I recall having side effects to medications is when I was being put on various psychiatric drugs as a teenager, but I don’t really remember any of the specifics except... being exhausted all the time (because I remember falling asleep in classes and being reprimanded for it like I’m doing it on fucking purpose).

Have you ever used an epi pen? >> No.

What's a name that you like but probably wouldn't use for one of your kids? >> ---

What's you name, and do you like it? >> Mordred. Of course I do.

Would you prefer to give your kids common names or unique names? >> ---

Do you feel like anybody values you in the way that you deserve? >> There’s that word deserve again. Anyway, yes, I’m sure someone values me well enough. Probably.

Who have you felt the most valued by? >> I guess Sparrow values me, or we wouldn’t be married. That’s how that works, right?

Have you ever been treated like you were inferior? >> Yes.

What was the name of the biggest bully in your high school? >> ---

Do you ever sleep outside? >> I’ve slept outside before, yes.

How many siblings do you have? >> ---

Are you the oldest, youngest, middle, or only child? >> I was raised as the only child in the household. I was the youngest of my father’s children.

How many kids do you want to have? >> Zero, ideally.

Do you want to get married? >> It’s already been done.

Best date you've been on? >> ---

Dream date? >> ---

Ever kissed someone on New Year's? >> Yeah.

Have you ever had an experience so good you felt like you were flying? >> Probably.

Have you ever been in so much pain you prayed that you would die? >> Yep.

What brings you the most joy? >> Uh... hmm. Good question. I’ll get back to you on that. Someday.

What is your passion; what is it that would bring you the most joy and fulfillment in life? >> I don’t think I have any passions.

Have you ever laid your dreams aside because someone else wanted you to? >> Well, fortunately for everyone else, I don’t really have any dreams.

Who supports you in everything you do? >> Sparrow is pretty supportive when I bother to do stuff.

Who always tries to stop you whenever you try to go after your dreams? >> ---

Do you believe in following your heart, in going after your dreams? >> I think that if someone has a dream, then sure, they should try to see it through. But I also think that sometimes it just ain’t worth it. It’s up to the person to make that determination, though, not me. Personally, I don’t really know what it’s like to have a dream, so it’s not like I can relate or anything.

Do you wish other people would want you to be happy? >> I don’t think people want me to suffer or anything. I think that in general, people aren’t really thinking about me at all.

Do you wish you had someone who loved and supported you? >> I do. I wish I had the capacity to feel loved and supported.

[ice-cream-nekogirl]

Emotions of Amy:

I couldn’t help it... one drawing led to another, and then another... lol I went crazy... but she’s fun to draw. Amy’s fun to draw... she’s so expressive... which is both a good thing and a bad thing. 

This more or less shows that Amy has some serious issues. She can go from bubbly and happy, to chillingly furious, to screaming angrily, to crying cutely and to sweet and soft all in the span of a single conversation or day... It’s a bit unsettling lol because her mood swings are almost always sudden and unpredictable. 

Amy’s an odd one. She seems like just a silly and fun-loving girl at first, and oddly sweet initially. But she has very extreme and inappropriate emotional reactions (takes criticism from Aizawa and All-Might very harshly), has poor impulse control (Iida has to frequently stop her from doing anything reckless or dangerous), performs risky behaviors (shop-lifting, partying with people much older than herself, taking drugs and weed) and also unfortunately has some unstable relationships in which she can deeply love and care for someone but then suddenly grow to deeply hate and resent that same person the drop of a hat (Izuku, Aizawa, Fiona, Bakugo, etc.). But her biggest quirk is her extreme fear of being abandoned or left behind or feeling like she’s being forgotten about, and either goes to desperate lengths to keep the people she loves close to her. What’s funny is that this wasn’t intentional, she just became that way, but then I did my research and now Amy’s behavior makes sense if you know about Borderline Personality Disorder. Something Iida speculates that she may have.

She’s a very loving and sensitive person, but has an unpredictable temper, while her anger is mostly comical as she screams at the top of her lungs just to get a point across, her anger can also be an intimidating spectacle to behold when it’s genuine. As Amy is capable of intense hatred, her friends aren’t safe either should they provoke her as she had no problem harming Izuku herself or letting a crowd of angry, drunk witches scream at him on TV out of spite. When her worst buttons are pushed, Amy loses all of her empathetic and loving traits and becomes crueler and more violent than Fiona, Madison, and Bakugo. Her best guy-friend Shinsou knows this very well, and knows better than to provoke her and encourages those who DO rub her the wrong way to just quickly apologize and get the HELL out of dodge until she calms down.

If you see ANY of her angry expressions up here, his advice is “Run.”

However, while Amy lashes out and can display a lack of empathy from time to time, especially when she’s having an outburst or meltdown, she’s not a bad girl, she easily feels shame and guilt after having said outburst or meltdown. She ALWAYS feels bad for hurting people or scaring them, and always apologizes, which usually goes back into crying and promising to be better because she doesn’t want to hate anyone deep down despite everything. She’s a troubled girl, traumatized and witnessed some terrible things if you’ve seen American Horror Story, it explains why she’s... kinda messed up. She’s cute, but troubled, which means she has a lot of issues and is sometimes hard to put up with. Her friends though, especially Shinsou, Ashlen (@ashleigh-luvs-14cats), Madison, Todoroki, Kaminari, Bakugo and even Izuku (despite everything) do love her regardless of her issues and DO help her through them because they love her, warts and all.

In return, Amy deeply loves her friends too, with Shinsou, Ashlen, Misty, Mallory, Todoroki, Hagakure, Kouda and Aoyama being some of her dearest and most beloved friends that she’s consistently treating nicely and loving without any caveats. That being said, even the friends she’s not always on good terms with such as Madison, Izuku, Bakugo and IIda, she never stops loving them even when she’s mad at them, and always finds a way to apologize for hurting them.

Amy’s many things... she’s wild, she’s carefree, she’s silly, she’s musical, she’s crazy, she’s stupid,  she’s irrational, she’s jealous, she’s selfish, she’s proud, she’s violent, she’s aggressive, she’s angry, she’s sweet, she’s excitable, she’s vulgar, she’s loving, she’s caring, she’s giving, she’s helpful, she’s sad, she��s sympathetic... a lot of things. But again, she’s not a bad girl, and she’s adored by her friends, warts and all.

[agent-hood]

Blue Monday ch.1

(//shout-out to @agentargus because you’re the very best)

Immersion therapy- that’s what they were calling this. Some of the gate crew had called her down and explained they had set up a ‘quick trip’ to a ‘safe’ alternate universe- an hour in an alternate London. Only when she crossed over and checked the monitor in her watch, it read ‘1982, June 24’ and ‘countdown: 183 days, 00:00:00’, which promptly started counting down.

Those fucking assholes.

She was lucky to have Hampton with her otherwise she’d be having a full and complete meltdown. In every alternate universe she’s visited, willing or otherwise, she died within moments. How the fuck was she supposed to last a whole month?

Barring all the things that could kill her immediately (getting hit by a car, getting shot in a mugging, having a piano fall on her -yes that did happen-), how was she supposed to survive a month with no money, no contacts, and no identification to get those things.

Well at least it was night and there was a pub nearby, so she could at least flirt her way to some free drinks as she contemplated her next move. As she made her way to the door however, it burst open. Smacking her right in the face as someone rushed past her into the nearby alley.

“Hey what the fuck!” She shouted, making to follow the guy, only stopping when she saw he was puking his guts out by the side of some garbage cans. Having had more than her fair share of ‘too many drinks’-episodes, she couldn’t really fault him, especially when she’s heard the soft crying that accompanied it.

Fuck it, her predicament could wait. Plus she figured being nice for a minute wouldn’t cause too much damage to this timeline, right?

“Hey guy,” She said softly, as if she were approaching a scared animal. “You doing alright? Need me to get you some water? Or...?” She trailed off, backing up as he rose to his full height.

‘Oooohhh shit!’ She swore to herself, cursing her luck... again, as she recognized the person in front of her. This was this universe’s Harry Hart (super spy). His hair was a little more ginger (and less grey) than the Harry of her universe and timeline, but she’d recognize that Bespoke suit anywhere.

The only thing that really threw her off was how... soft he looked. Granted this was the eighties so he was probably just recruited by Kingsmen and hadn’t had the chance to sharpen into the deadly professional she was acquainted with. His overall gentleness was compounded by the lost doe-eyes and helpless, shocked expression at her presence.

“No I should be- oh my goodness! Are you alright?!”

What?

His pointed concern towards her face allowed her to finally feel that her chin was wet. With blood. Her blood. Her nose was bleeding. As if her night couldn’t go any worse.

“Oop- uh yeah, I guess you kind of hit me with that door pretty hard. Ha ha.” She said trying to play it off as no big deal.

“Oh no that was you!? I’m so very sorry. Please tell me what I can do to make it up to you.”

“No really it’s alright. I understand- it happens.”

“Please. I insist.”

“Alright, um I guess you could just buy me a drink?” He shifted uncomfortably and cast a sidelong glance at the building next to them, clearly not wanting to go back in.

“Well... if you don’t mind, I do have some beer in my fridge and my flat’s not too far from here. Plus we can get you cleaned up.”

Parker hesitated. She was playing with fire even talking to Harry, who knew what damage she’d cause by further interaction. But fuck it, it beat sitting in an alley with a bloody nose wondering what her next step would be, plus she could really use that beer.

“Sure. So long as you don’t mind my dog coming.” Hampton wuffed in agreement at her side. Upon noticing the massive black dog, Harry’s entire demeanor changed. He immediately softened, crouching down to give Hampton a good pet while cooing at him that he was a ‘good boy’. Thank goodness this Harry also seemed to love dogs as much as her Harry.

“Of course he can come. In fact I’d be heart broken if he didn’t~” he said, mostly to Hampton as his attention to her and her injury were all but forgotten. It took a few obvious coughs, but eventually he got up and led her to his apartment.

“My apologies, I’m Harry. Harry Hart.” He said, offering his hand to shake. Parker took it and tried to quickly come up with a fake name to use while she was here, so as to better minimize her impact.

“I’m Parker and this is Hampton.”

Fuck.

Walking inside proved it to be very small and very dated, even for the time period, but Parker found it oddly charming. How could she not with the overstuffed couch that only just fit two people and the walls full of framed butterflies.

Harry sat her down at his small kitchenette and quickly returned with two beers, some antiseptic, and cotton balls. And before she could open and enjoy her drink, he timidly asked if he could check her nose.

“Well the good news is it’s not broken, but you may have black eyes for the next day or so. Again, I’m really sorry about that. I’m absolutely mortified at myself.” Parked grinned and opened her beer, scooting his a little closer to him as a signal to join her.

“It’s ok considering you were in kind of a hurry. Speaking of, are you alright? You seemed really upset.”

“Ah,” he said, clearly having hoped his own problems were forgotten. “It’s really nothing just some... problems at work.”

“Yeah I know how that goes.” She commiserated. ‘Problems with work’ is why she was stuck here in the first place.

“I just don’t think I’ll be able to do it.” He groused, thinking out loud rather than talking to her directly. “Here I have this wonderful opportunity and I can’t even get through an evening in a pub without become so frightened I get sick and have to leave... maybe I’m not cut out for it. I should probably just quit.”

“Oh Harry no,” she placed a hand on his knee in what she thought was a comforting gesture, but seeing his leg slightly jump at the contact she quickly removed it.

“I’m sure you’re doing great, whatever it is.”

“With some aspects, yes- I’m performing well above expectations. But there’s a lot of it that involves talking to people, or working a crowd, and I’m just... not made for that.” Parker hates that she had to play dumb, like she didn’t know exactly what he was talking about, but she had her own secrets to keep.

It seemed like he was really serious about quitting though, and she had no idea what effect that would have on the timeline as she only knew Harry as an agent. So maybe interfering and pushing him in that direction wouldn’t be so bad?

“You seem to be talking to me just fine.”

“...You have a point but I’m not sure, maybe because it’s just you, or if you’ll forgive me being forward, you don’t make me uncomfortable.”

“Even though we just met?”

“It could very well be your dog.” He smiled, and Parker nearly cheered at his little joke. He wasn’t as bad as he was making his situation out to be, he just needed a little push is all.

“I’ll make you a deal Harry. I’m currently stranded here with no cash and no place to stay for six months. If you let me crash here, I’ll teach you how to move past all those troubles you’re having.”

He mulled it over for quite some time. Parker almost thought he was either ignoring her or would show her the door once her beer was finished.

“...you really think you’ll be able to help?”

“Absolutely. I used to have a similar problem at my job so I know ~all~ the little tricks of navigating crowds, how to not embarrass yourself in a ballroom, talking to people effectively and with purpose.”

He hummed in response and thought it over. Parker hoped she made a good enough offer, but anxiety was something very difficult to deal with and also made a good argument to have things stay the same. He turned towards her again and shot her a small, if sad, smile.

“How do i know you’re telling the truth? And how do you know you’ll be safe and I won’t take advantage?”

“Well, I did convince you to take me back here right?” She grinned coyly. “As for the other thing- Hampton likes you. I wouldn’t offer otherwise.”

He took another moment to think about it, eyes sliding frequently over to Hampton where he sat with his head resting on the kitchenette table. Finally he offered his hand to her once more.

“Very well then Parker, I accept your offer.”

[ocpdzim]

I feel like I’ve gotta say something about this since I said something about gun control a little while ago but. We need gun control. Desperately. People are dying because we don’t have it, because the NRA values their toys above human lives and because many lawmakers, particularly republicans but democrats as well, value the NRA’s money and support, or at least the NRA’s apathy, more than they value human lives. It’s unacceptable.

But that doesn’t mean that it’s alright to strip mentally ill and disabled people of our basic human rights. There’s been a lot of talk lately about changing laws to allow and encourage mental health professionals to talk to the police about their patients’ health, and to put people’s mental and physical health in a police registry. It’s one of the things (or rather, two of the things) outlined in the Parkland Manifesto. (link) Not only would that be a massive breach of doctor-patient confidentiality, it’s dangerous. 

A disproportionate amount of people killed by police are disabled, either mentally, physically, or both. (link) (link) Mentally ill and disabled people are also more likely to be victims of violence than they are to be perpetrators, and are also more likely to be victims of violence than abled neurotypical people. (link) (link) Disabled and/or mentally ill people of color, especially black people, are already at increased risk for being victims of police brutality and would be especially harmed by putting mental and physical health in a police database. 

It’s also worth noting that the Baker Act is a thing here in Florida, a law which makes it legal for the police, doctors, or a judge to institutionalize someone if said someone “possibly has a mental illness“ and “is in danger of becoming a harm to self, harm to others, or is self neglectful.” (link) Giving the police a database of mentally ill people would automatically fill the first condition for literally every mentally ill person living in Florida. Yeah, all of us. And the second criteria is quite vague, and we all know that the police don’t always have qualms about lying. And again, about the vague criteria? To illustrate how easy they are to meet without being a danger to anyone: I meet those criteria. I have met them for literally my entire life since I was 12 years old. My eating disorder and my serious difficulty with self-care would both likely count as “self neglectful.” Back when I was frequently banging my head on walls, I was being a “harm to self.” Since I am white and also since I mostly stay in my house and have my meltdowns indoors, I am not at high risk of being nabbed by the cops on a whim. But legally, they could just pick me up and institutionalize me against my will right now if they wanted. And the implications of that for people of color, visible activists, or mentally ill/disabled people who aren’t able to fake being “normal” as well as I can (i.e. people who the police tend to treat unfairly already) with similar issues to mine or literally any other somewhat significant mental illness are truly horrifying. I don’t feel that I even need to link accounts of the horrible abuses suffered by mentally ill people in many institutions, because you can find tons of them just by googling it. 

Clearly, mentally ill people, especially those already at high risk of police brutality, would be discouraged from seeking treatment if they could not trust their therapist not to put them into a police database any more. This is another thing I don’t need a link for, because as a mentally ill person myself, I would absolutely not seek treatment in light of this if not for the fact that I trust my current psychologist. If I didn’t have a psychologist already, I would not seek one out. Even now, I’m not open with my psychologist about the full extent of my mental health problems because I am afraid I’d be institutionalized or forcibly medicated. And I don’t think I should have to tell you that mentally ill people who do not receive treatment are less likely to be able to manage their symptoms and live relatively healthy lives. That they’re more likely to commit suicide. To discourage mentally ill people from seeking help is to kill some of them.

The Parkland shooter was a white supremacist. He was involved in multiple violent incidents prior to the shooting, and publicly expressed desire to kill people before the shooting. Those things, not the fact that he was also mentally ill, are the red flags that should have been picked up on. Those things are what should have tipped the police off that he would commit mass murder. I’d say those things are what should have prevented him from getting an assault rifle, but really, what should have prevented him from getting an assault rifle was assault rifles being unavailable. They should never have been for sale for him to get his hands on in the first place. We should heed this tragedy and never let them be available for sale again. The biggest predictor of gun violence is access to a gun.

Do I think mentally ill and/or disabled people should have guns? No! I do not think able-bodied neurotypicals should have guns either. Nobody should. They are killing machines and they are never, in anyone’s hands, worth more than the lives of children, and never worth more than the lives of adults, either, for that matter. The second amendment is not more important than anyone’s inalienable rights to life, liberty, and pursuit of happiness, and neither is the NRA’s pocketbook. Neither is a misplaced fear of disabled and mentally ill people. We need gun control legislation, and it needs to be sweeping. But if you attach a police mental and physical health database to gun control legislation that would otherwise save lives, you’re no longer necessarily saving lives. You’re just changing which people will die. 

[eternalstereksecretsanta]

merry kiss-mas Mr. Hale

@kevaaronday | AO3 | I hope you like it! Happy holidays! Stiles’ daughter has been having some issues in school yet despite everything, she is extremely excited for her school’s holiday recital. So is Stiles when he meets a certain handsome teacher that he just so happens to wind up under the mistletoe with.

It wasn’t often that Stiles’ daughter was so excited to go to school. Yet there she was, tugging on his sleeve and bouncing impatiently on the balls of her feet.

Her brown hair, carefully and painstakingly curled and adorned with a pristine white hair ribbon, swayed as she urged Stiles to get ready quicker. With a punched out laugh, Stiles raised his arms, conceding, “Alright, alright. No hair gel tonight, Claudia, I get it.”

“Makes you look funny,” she solemnly declared, nodding gravely as she ceased her bouncing. Maintaining her surprisingly tight grip on the sleeve of Stiles’ dress shirt, she tacked on, “Like a porkie-pine.”

Stiles let out an indignant huff, raising his brows at his daughter. Setting his hands on his hips, he challenged, “A porcupine? Really? Sure, maybe a hedgehog. But a porcupine?”

Claudia gave another serious nod. “Yup. A porkie-pine, daddy.”

“A handsome porcupine, though, right?” Stiles teased, turning back to the mirror to keep fiddling with his necktie. Jeez, he was twenty seven years old and he still couldn’t tie a Windsor knot.

Even as he focused on the length of silken fabric wrapped around his neck, he noticed Claudia’s wrinkled nose out of the corner of his eye. Shaking his head with a fond smile, he called up the stairs, “Hey, dad! You ready to go?”

Twenty seven, can’t tie a Windsor, and I still live with my dad. Father of year, right here, Stiles groused as he continued struggling with his tie. He supposed that was what happened when you had a child at nineteen years old.

Not that he would ever regret having Claudia. No. Not in a million years.

The only thing he regretted was how unprepared he had been for fatherhood. He hadn’t planned on having kids until he was much older, until he was established in his career with a place of his own and a loving, committed partner.

But, of course, with his luck, his first hookup, his first one night stand, his first sexual experience whatsoever had resulted in a beautiful baby girl and a deferred life plan.

Eight years ago, Stiles had gone to a belated New Year’s party at his friend Heather’s house to celebrate her eighteenth birthday. It had been a lovely party, full of music and dancing and champagne.

Then, one thing had led to another and Stiles had lost his virginity in Heather’s parents’ wine cellar, exchanging uncoordinated champagne flavored kisses. It had been rushed and woefully unromantic, both of their inexperience resulting in more than a few embarrassing moments.

Afterwards, he and Heather had gone back to being just friends, putting their drunken hookup behind them. But nine months and a broken condom later, Stiles was being called down to the hospital for the birth of his daughter.

What had happened next was a mix of selfishness and fatherly obligation.

In the delivery room, as Stiles cradled his new baby girl and fought to hold back tears as he called his dad, Heather announced that she wanted to put the baby up for adoption. It was an understandable choice, they were both young and had their whole lives ahead of them and a baby was just too much.

But looking down into those big, trusting brown eyes as his daughter gazed up at him with all the innocence and wonder of a newborn, Stiles had immediately known that he would never be able to give her up.

After filling out the birth certificate, naming his daughter Claudia Heather Stilinski after his mother and her own, Stiles took his daughter home. Heather signed the papers to terminate her parental rights a few days later after she decided that it was best not to be involved in her daughter’s life.

Over the next three years, Stiles worked his ass off at college while maintaining two jobs and caring for his daughter. His dad helped as best he could while juggling the responsibilities of his own job.

Fortunately, his best friend’s mother, Melissa, volunteered to help with babysitting, sweeping in like an angel sent from heaven itself. And Scott and Allison were more than willing to drop by to lavish their goddaughter with as much attention as possible.

Overall, Stiles had been rather lucky to have such a wonderful support system to help him raise his daughter. Likewise, apart from a few minor hiccups, thanks to his family he was able to graduate with honors and secure a position at the local sheriff’s station.

It was an uphill battle where he encountered all sorts of obstacles like the stigma against unwed teenaged parents and the many misconceptions about single dads, but it was definitely worth it.

It was almost perfect. And it probably would have been if not for Claudia’s school.

It wasn’t that she had any really serious problems. She wasn’t unruly or disruptive. No more than any other eight year old, anyway.

She loved learning the same way that Stiles did. She was already at a sixth grade reading level, reading books like Harry Potter and Freak the Mighty.

She loved math and science and music. Hell, she even liked gym class. Which was something she must have inherited from Heather since Stiles despised gym class, regardless of the fact that he had played on the lacrosse team.

The only problem was that she, like her father, had ADHD.

Claudia’s symptoms had differed from Stiles but the ones that he did immediately recognize — the constant fidgeting, the inability to contain her outbursts, the difficulties concentrating — were cause enough for him to bring her to a specialist. He would be damned if his daughter fell between the cracks and went undiagnosed, written off as just a problem child.

School became the ultimate evil, something Stiles was all too familiar with. Claudia’s inattentiveness meant she had trouble focusing in class and an even harder time finishing her homework.

Her tendency to talk over other kids and teachers had earned her the disdain of her fellow students. That disdain bubbled over into juvenile acts of bullying and ostracism.

Which led to a great deal of frustration for Claudia. Of course, that led to emotional outbursts and crying fits in class.

Like a vicious cycle, her occasional meltdowns resulted in even more bullying from her classmates. The first time she had come home from school and told him that someone had called her a crybaby, Stiles had been ready to march down to the school and knock tiny heads together.

It got worse as the winter holidays drew closer. It wasn’t easy being the only Jewish kid around Christmastime.

Luckily, there was one bright spot in the otherwise abysmal school situation. That bright spot had a name: Mr. Derek Hale.

He was Claudia’s teacher, a member of the renowned Hale family that was practically royalty in the little town of Beacon Hills. Small town monarchy, Stiles called it, not that he had anything against the Hales.

Talia Hale, the matriarch of the family, was the mayor of Beacon Hills. She had ushered in an era of tax cuts for the lower and middle classes, affordable healthcare, and increased rights for LGBT+ citizens.

Her husband, Samuel Hale, was the chief at the county fire station. He was one of the most decorated firefighters California had ever seen.

Their many children, all grown, held similar positions of high esteem. Their eldest, Laura, was a model slash actress; their youngest, Cora, ran a popular coffee shop in town; and their middle child, Derek, taught third grade.

Oftentimes the only good thing about Claudia’s days at school, Mr. Hale was a frequent topic of conversation in the Stilinski home. Especially once the holiday recital drew near.

Mr. Hale was the one who had arranged the recital with the help of some volunteers from the high school, namely the guidance counselor Marin Morrell and the new history teacher Vernon ‘just Boyd’ Boyd.

It was designed to be a celebration of the holidays and what they stood for, family and friends and all that sentimental crap that Stiles loved. The recital itself, according to the playbill that had been sent home the week prior to the recital, was supposed to consist of various holiday songs and skits.

Initially, Claudia hadn’t wanted to participate, let alone attend the recital. But after some cajoling from Stiles and some encouragement from Mr. Hale himself, she had eventually capitulated.

The fact that Mr. Hale had given her a solo in the recital may or may not have contributed to her finally agreeing.

Thus her adorable impatience and the beautiful white dress that Stiles had saved up to buy for her. It was a simple white shift dress with delicate lace sleeves and faux fur lining the back of the collar, exorbitantly priced thanks to the designer.

But Stiles hadn’t been able to deny Claudia when she had seen it in a store window and fallen in love with it.

With a white bow in her hair and white flats on her feet, she looked like an angel. Stiles had tucked a pocket pack of tissues into the pocket of his dress pants for a reason.

Speaking of dressing up, Stiles groaned in defeat and whipped the tie off his neck. Balling it up, he tossed it over the back of the couch, figuring a dress shirt and some slacks was dressed up enough for a third grade recital.

Shrugging as he buttoned up his collar, hoping he didn’t look like a schlep, he called out again, “Dad?”

“Yeah, I’m coming!” The Sheriff called from upstairs, his statement immediately followed by the sound of someone thundering down the stairs. A moment later, he rounded the corner, fiddling with his own necktie, a medium gray to match his suit jacket and pants.

Stiles whistled. “Looking good there, old man. When’s the last time you got all gussied up? The 1920s?”

“1820s, smartass,” the Sheriff shot back with a glare that lacked any real heat. He realized what he had just said a moment later.

“Grandpa! You said ass!” Claudia pointed out with all the righteous fury of an eight year old. Releasing Stiles’ sleeve, she crossed her arms over her chest and stared up at the Sheriff with a stern pout.

“Yes. Yes, I did,” he conceded, scratching the back of his head. He reached into his pocket, keys jiggling, to pull out a quarter that he promptly dropped into a mason jar on top of the nearby side table. It was nearly filled to the label of swear jar.

“So did you, little missie,” Stiles admonished, still wondering how he was going to break Claudia of her habit of repeating cuss words. He pointed at the swear jar. “Put a quarter in.”

Claudia’s pout intensified. She met Stiles’ eyes as she announced, “I don’t have any. I don’t have a job.”

Sometimes it was frightening just how alike Claudia and he were. Shaking away that scary thought, Stiles informed her, “Fine, that’s a quarter outta your next allowance, then.”

“Okay, daddy!” Claudia agreed without hesitation, clapping her hands together in excitement. With a little twirl, she turned to the Sheriff, grabbing his hand to tug him towards the front door.

With a huff of amusement, Stiles ran a hand through his hair and turned back to the side table to grab his wallet and car keys. He did a final check of all his things — wallet, check; keys, check; cell phone, check; Adderall, check — before meeting Claudia and John by the front door.

        *        *        *        *        *

The holiday recital was just as jam packed with holiday cheer as the playbill promised.

The sets were beautiful. All of the backdrops were hand painted, snowy forest scenes and cityscapes full of lights and holiday revelry.

The props were extremely realistic, from plastic Christmas trees and wreaths to wrapped presents with shiny bows. Whoever had carved the wooden reindeer deserved an award for set design.

The set itself was complemented by strings of multicolored fairy lights that illuminated the whole stage. They flashed in all sorts of colors, keeping time with the rhythm of the songs.

Refreshments were served, during brief intermissions between songs so children participating in more than one song had time to change costumes. Teacher volunteers handed out cups of hot chocolate and chocolate chip cookies.

As ashamed as Stiles was to admit it, he ended up zoning out during most of the performances. He was too preoccupied with thinking about Claudia’s performance that was scheduled to be the grand finale.

He was worried that she might forget the lyrics, might get distracted by some stray thought or interesting fun fact. He was terrified that she might get overwhelmed by all the lights and the attention and the sheer amount of people.

The last thing he wanted was for her to end up getting embarrassed in front of everyone. Her classmates would never let her live it down.

Stiles knew from experience. He had accidentally messed up his lines in a play in fifth grade thanks to his motormouth. Senior year of high school, he had still been getting teased about it.

Stiles wasn’t alone in his anxious waiting. Beside him, his dad jiggled his leg as he twiddled his thumbs and constantly checked his watch.

He wasn’t sure if strength in numbers counted in matters of anxiety and fatherly apprehension but it made him feel better that he wasn’t the only one freaking one. By the time Claudia’s performance rolled around, both Stilinski men were nervous wrecks.

They both held their breaths as the curtain lifted to reveal Claudia standing in the center of the stage under a bright white light. She looked like an angel, bathed in light as the fairy lights twinkled in shades of white and blue.

The moment she started to sing, perfectly reciting the first lines of This Little Light Of Mine, they both started crying. Sniffling a bit, John leaned to the side and whispered, “You still have those tissues?”

Stiles handed over the pack of tissues without comment.

Once Claudia finished her song, polishing it off with a polite curtsy and a radiant smile, both Stiles and his dad were on their feet. Fortunately, they weren’t the only ones as everyone else in the audience gave the performers a standing ovation.

As the room filled with thunderous applause, Stiles turned to his dad to wrap his arms around him in a tight hug. The Sheriff enthusiastically returned the hug, cupping the back of Stiles’ neck and squeezing, the same way he used to when Stiles was younger and woke up screaming from a nightmare.

“C'mon, let’s go get Claudia,” John suggested, wiping at his eyes with another tissue. Stiles did the same, nodding silently as he started the awkward shuffle out of the aisle and towards the back of the stage.

Backstage there was already a large group of parents congregating. They traded compliments and stories of previous holiday recitals.

Stiles led the way, weaving around parents congratulating their kids on their performance, dodging overly aggressive soccer moms and overcompensating divorced dads. He finally found Claudia standing by a sleek black piano, toying with the bow in her hair.

“Daddy!” She shouted in greeting when Stiles drew near, leaning down to scoop her up. He spun her around, earning a gleeful peel of laughter as she giggled.

“You were so great!” Stiles gushed as he stopped his spinning. “Really! You sounded like an angel!”

“Did I really?” Claudia pressed, her eyes lighting up with the praise. Turning to the Sheriff, she eagerly asked, “Grandpa?”

“You were amazing, sweetheart,” John confirmed, reaching over to squeeze her hand. Glancing at Stiles, he offered a sad smile. “I just wish your grandmother could’ve seen it.”

“It’s okay, grandpa,” Claudia assured him, stretching her arms out to wrap them around his neck in a tight hug. John returned the hug, lifting Claudia out of Stiles’ arms and into his own.

Shoving any and all bittersweet thoughts out of his head, Stiles clapped his hands together. Once Claudia and John turned to him, he asked, “Alright, you ready to go home?”

“No!” Claudia cried, gesturing for the Sheriff to let her down. The second her feet hit the floor, she grabbed Stiles by the hand and started towing him somewhere as she announced, “C'mon, daddy! You have to meet Mr. Hale!”

*        *        *        *        *

They found Mr. Hale surrounded by a ring of desperate divorcees in gaudy Christmas sweaters and holiday dresses way to revealing for a third grade recital.

The poor guy seemed to be holding his own, though his discomfort was blatantly apparent. And Stiles could only see the back of the guy’s head. It was that clear.

“I don’t know, Claudia, he looks a little busy,” Stiles said. He looked down at Claudia only to find that she was nowhere to be found.

A frenzied scan of the surrounding area found her wriggling past two women who were wearing so much perfume Stiles could smell it from where he stood. Once she had infiltrated the circle of women, she tapped her teacher on the hand, politely requesting, “Mr. Hale? Can you come meet my daddy?”

“Sorry, everyone. I’ll be right back,” an even, clearly relieved voice excused. Taking Claudia’s hand, Mr. Hale turned around and promptly made Stiles’ jaw drop.

Complete with a dark shadow of stubble that made Stiles’ knees weak, Mr. Hale’s face was a work of art so beautiful it could bring home all the ships Helen’s face launched. Dusted with the aforementioned sinfully sexy stubble, high cheekbones and a square jaw added equal parts elegance and ruggedness to his look.

His hair was pitch black, neatly combed back and slightly parted. It looked thick and silky smooth, perfect for absentmindedly running one’s hands through.

He was tall, maybe an inch or two taller than Stiles himself, and clearly in good shape. He filled out his black suit nicely, his red damask tie brought out the warm tones of his slightly tanned skin.

Belatedly realizing that it was probably very inappropriate to drool over his daughter’s third grade teacher, Stiles snapped his mouth shut. With a bright smile, Mr. Hale stepped closer, offering his free hand for a handshake.

Praying his hands weren’t clammy, Stiles shook Mr. Hale’s hand. Plastering a smile on his face, he greeted, “You must be the famous Mr. Hale I’ve heard so much about.”

“And you must be Claudia’s father,” Mr. Hale returned. “It’s nice to meet you. And, please, call me Derek.”

“Nice to meet you, Derek,” Stiles replied, dropping his hand to take Claudia’s as she moved to stand beside him. Squeezing her hand, he looked back at Derek and tacked on, “Call me Stiles.”

He was about to thank Derek for putting together the recital when Claudia interrupted. Smiling innocently, she looked up at Derek and announced, “See, Mr. Hale? Daddy didn’t use any hair gel tonight. He doesn’t look like a porkie-pine, right?”

“No. Not like a porkie-pine,” Derek agreed, flashing Stiles a grin so bright it outshone the fairy lights still twinkling on stage. There were crinkles by the corners of his eyes, eyes that were the most spectacular shade of hazel.

“Isn’t he handsome?” Claudia drawled, the PG rated version of a shit-eating grin stretched across her face. Angel, his ass.

Stiles felt his face flush with heat at the comment. Fighting the urge to start fidgeting, Stiles set a hand on Claudia’s back and gently pushed her in the other direction, instructing, “Okay, missy, go find your grandpa.”

Claudia skipped away to go find the Sheriff, long curls swaying behind her. Stiles shook his head fondly, apologizing, “Sorry about that. Claudia likes to think of herself as a little matchmaker. I think she gets it from my dad.”

“Not a problem,” Derek assured him, running a hand through his dark hair, mussing it up. Eyes crinkling again, he continued, “She’s not wrong. You do look very handsome.”

Before Stiles could embarrass himself by blurting out something stupid like fun facts about penguins, he was cut off by the sound of a very familiar giggle. Whipping his head to the side, Stiles found Claudia standing a few feet away with the Sheriff, both of them chuckling under their breaths.

“And what, pray tell, is so funny, young lady?” Stiles inquired, setting his hands on his hips. He used his Stern Father Voice™ for good measure.

Instead of answering, both Claudia and the Sheriff pointed at something above his head. Stiles craned his neck to look up at whatever they were pointing at.

It was a bough of mistletoe, green leaves accented by waxy white berries and a bright red ribbon. And surely enough, it was hanging over he and Derek’s heads.

“You have to kiss!” Claudia shrieked happily, clapping her hands. The Sheriff seemed to agree, nodding his head in encouragement.

“Alright, you two,” Stiles admonishment, turning back to them. He tossed his keys to his dad, shooing them, “Time to go home. Go wait for me in the car.”

They obediently turned on their heels and retreated, pausing to wave goodbye at Derek. Once they were out of earshot, Stiles turned back to Derek, scratching the back of his neck.

“Yeah, I’m really sorry about them,” he apologized, wincing. “I don’t really know what’s gotten into them lately.”

“They’re not wrong,” Derek claimed, taking a step closer. With a glance upward, he explained, “We are standing under the mistletoe. And tradition does say we’re supposed to kiss. Do you really wanna go against tradition?”

Suddenly, Derek was standing much closer. The scent of his subtle cologne filled the air between them, the air warmed by how close their bodies were.

“No. No, of course not,” Stiles murmured, his voice sounding faraway and faint as Derek’s warm hand on his cheek tilted his head up. A moment later, Derek’s lips were on his, warm and wet and perfect.

It started out as a chaste kiss. Just a simple peck on the lips between new acquaintances so as to honor an ancient holiday tradition.

But then it turned a little more heated, a little deeper. He wasn’t sure who deepened the kiss but regardless a moment later Derek’s hand was in Stiles’ hair and Stiles’ arms were thrown around Derek’s neck.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Stiles knew that it was probably extremely amoral and unprofessional and inappropriate to be making out with his daughter’s teacher backstage while a throng of other parents milled around. But at that moment, he couldn’t have cared less if he tried.

Eventually, they pulled apart, desperately trying to regain some semblance of decorum. Stiles coughed, face burning bright red, and stammered out, “So… That happened.”

“Yeah,” Derek answered, looking just as flushed as Stiles. He absentmindedly ran his fingers through Stiles’ hair, massaging the back of his head. With a wink, he announced, “Y'know, I’m really glad you didn’t use any hair gel tonight. Not that it would’ve made kissing you any less wonderful.”

Stiles let out a very manly giggle. He murmured something about having to take Claudia home, starting towards the door.

But before he could get very far, Derek wrapped him up in another quick kiss. Lips brushing against Stiles’, he whispered, “I was thinking about putting on a recital for New Year’s. You in?”

Then it was Stiles’ turn to get excited about going back to school.

[pearsonclaire1995]

What Does A Cat Look Like When They Spray Eye-Opening Diy Ideas

e. NOTE: Before even attempting to do something good before he gets old enough, he might spray the cats neck in a worse case scenario your cat marks its territory.The water filled spray bottle with water falling from various diseases.Spaying is a beautiful stray cat was to get the non-oiled variety.Although most cat owners get their precious kitties declawed.

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Cat Pee Enzyme Cleaner Walmart

Siberians don't have much to worry that your cat and your home with a kitten try to buy some Natures Miracle Just For Cats, and save that sofa!Your allergy doctor for prescription nose sprays, antihistamine pills and immunotherapy {allergy shots} The allergy shots can improve this behavior.It can lead to serious cat health care concern, they do can give him a diet of raw, unprocessed, and home of the annoyances of an advanced age and the earlier the problemThese are sold everywhere for varying prices and come back to.Oral medications are becoming less and less.

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[chronicallygothic]

PTSD

I didn’t write the following article but I thought it really hit home and needed to be shared. Not all of it is relevant to my story but it comes very close. The abuse happened to me 13 years ago and I only just told my mom a few months ago (even though my “boyfriend” was living with me at my mother’s house.)

I’ve had to cut ties with several friendships over the gaslighting issue. I don’t even like saying his name. Not his nickname that he used when we dated or his real name. I’m frequently on high alert but my fight or flight response is finally starting to calm down after a decade of therapy and helpful partners.

Seeing him around makes me instantly sick. The fact that people don’t know what I went through makes me sick but the thought that they might not believe me “cuz he’s a good guy” is unbearable. 

He told me how to dress, who to hang out with, who not to hang out with. I was only 14.

Many times while he was driving us one place or another I would fantasize about yanking the steering wheel into oncoming traffic and hoping that neither of us survived. 

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For many years I was in an extremely destructive relationship with someone who has NPD (Narcissistic Personality Disorder) and during that time I was regularly subjected to a variety of emotional, mental and physical abuse.

Every day I walked on eggshells, living in fear of saying or doing something that might trigger an aggressive response.

Many people might wonder why I, or anyone else, would remain in this kind of environment, but by the time I fully recognized that I was in extreme danger, I was already badly emotionally and mentally weakened and debilitated.

I was living in terror waiting to be attacked at any moment and yet I did not feel as though I had the strength or courage to remove myself from it.

Abuse doesn’t always happen overtly and it isn’t always easy to recognize. Often it is a covert, insidious, invisible drip that slowly poisons the victim’s mind so they don’t trust their own judgment, is unable to make life-changing decisions and feels as though they don't have the coping skills necessary to get help or leave.

It took me a long time, and everything I had, to pull myself from the bottom of the deep dark hell I existed in and to get myself to a place of safety.

By the time I walked away, I thought that the nightmare was over. But in so many other ways, it had only just began.

The terrors of the taunts, torture and torment that had become my normality didn’t subside. They remained alive and relived themselves in the form of intrusive, regular flashbacks.

Many months after I had left the relationship I discovered that I was suffering from C-PTSD, (Complex Post-traumatic Stress Disorder.)Â C-PTSDÂ is a result of persistent psychological trauma in an environment where the victim believes they are powerless and that there is no escape.

C-PTSD is slightly different than PTSD, which is brought on from experiencing one solitary, traumatic incident, or it can develop due to an accumulation of incidents. Although both C-PTSD and PTSD both developed from my experiences, I identify more with C-PTSD, as it was the effects of the prolonged exposure to repetitive and chronic trauma that I felt I couldn’t escape from that affected me the most.

For many months after leaving the relationship I struggled to sleep at night, and when I did I often woke trembling after experiencing terrifying reoccurring dreams. On many occasions when I did eventually sleep I would sleep solid for at least 24 hours, in such deep slumber that I would struggle to wake from it and when I did I would feel fatigued, spaced out and as though I was numbly sleep-walking through the day.

I was easily startled and panicked at the slightest sudden movement or loud noise.

I was ultra-sensitive, on edge and highly alert most of the time, which I believe was my mind’s way of forming some sort of self-protection to keep me aware so that I avoided similar potentially dangerous situations.

At the mention of certain words, names or places I felt nauseous and dizzy and would become extremely distressed. A painful tight knot developed in my stomach every time something occurred to remind me of the trauma.

I still have difficulty remembering large phases of my life, and for a long time I struggled to stay focused, and my concentration abilities were very poor.

I would get upset easily, especially if I was in a tense environment. I had constant anxiety and was regularly in fight-or-flight mode.

I didn’t eat properly. I had no motivation and suicidal thoughts regularly flooded my mind.

I had lost my spark.

One aspect of the aftermath of the relationship that affected me most was the daily gaslighting that I endured. This left me finding it difficult to believe anything people would tell me, and I analyzed, questioned and dissected everything.

Forming new relationships, whether friendships, or romantic, was almost impossible as I struggled to trust people’s intentions and felt scared of possible underlying, hidden motives and agendas for their words or actions.

I dissociated from most of what I had been through and pretended, even to myself, that the abuse wasn’t as serious as it was. Partly because I felt ashamed that I had not left sooner and also because I wanted to defend and protect the person I was involved with, as I still cared for him. Therefore, I rarely mentioned the relationship to anyone and froze and shut down through stress (sometimes resulting in a meltdown) if anyone tried to talk to me about i It got to the stage where I withdrew completely as leaving the house became overwhelming and a major ordeal because I wouldn’t/couldn’t open up and connect and I felt terrified of everything and everyone.

One thing that became apparent and harrowing was that although I had gained enough strength to walk away and I felt empowered by the decision knowing that it was the right choice for my emotional, mental and physical health, I was suppressing all my emotions and feelings and I was far from okay on the inside.

There were many rollercoaster emotions trapped inside me and trying to ignore and contain them was doing more harm than good. In many ways the ending of the relationship had signaled closure to one phase of my life and had opened up a new chapter that was going to take a little time to get used to.

It appeared that while I was in the relationship I had become so used to enduring a wide variety of narcissistic behaviors that they had almost become normal and acceptable. Stepping away from all that I had known felt like I had walked from one planet and onto another and I hadn’t got a clue how to navigate it on my own or how to relate to anyone on it.

I soon realized that unless I started to focus on healing myself, I would remain a victim of my previous circumstances as the build up of emotional injuries, wounds and scars needed urgent attention. Otherwise, they would seep out and silently destroy sections of my life without me being aware that the past was still controlling me.

It was up to me to rebuild my strength and confidence, otherwise I would end up alienating myself and causing further damage.

I had a lot of inner healing work and restructuring to do and trying to convince myself that just because I had left the relationship everything would be okay, was not going to be enough.

The first and most significant step I took was admitting and fully accepting that the carnage I had experienced was real and had a huge impact on my emotional and mental wellbeing.

I had been surviving by a fragile thread in a domestic war zone and for far too long I had been intimidated, manipulated, lied to and threatened, amongst many other toxic and dysfunctional behaviors. The whole relationship had been an illusion and resulted in me having serious trust issues as well as losing the will to live. I not only struggled to trust other people, but I also realized I had no faith at all in my own intuition, perception or judgment.

Finally, I gave myself permission to take as long as I needed to heal, even if it meant I would spend the rest of my life slowly putting the pieces of my life back together. I came to terms with the fact that there is no timescale to healing and there was no hurry.

I allowed myself to grieve the relationship and the loss of the person I had separated from. This was extremely difficult to do as I had so many mixed emotions due to the scale of the abuse. For a long time I denied my grief, as it was complex to come to terms with how I could miss someone who had been responsible for vicious behavior towards me.

One of the hardest parts to dealing with this grief was feeling as though I could not talk openly to anyone, as I believed no one would understand how I could remain in such an abusive relationship and still miss many aspects of that person and the life I had with them.

The reason getting over this type of relationship can be so difficult is that many narcissists display both Jeckyll and Hyde type characteristics, one minute appearing extremely loving and affectionate and the next crippling, cruel and cunning.

It is not easy to explain that I deeply loved and badly missed one side of the person I was involved with, and disliked, feared and never wanted to hear his name mentioned at the same time. Even thinking about this can make one feel a little crazy as it does not feel natural to love and hate the same person.

One essential step toward healing from narcissistic abuse, I believe, is finding someone to really confide in and who doesn’t judge or question anything that is said. Being free to talk openly and comfortably without having to over explain is vital to start putting the accumulation of experiences into some sort of context. If there isn’t a friend on hand, it is worth taking time to seek out a good counselor with an understanding of C-PTSD deriving from abusive relationships.

The most important thing that helped me to heal was focusing more on healing and rebuilding myself. Although I took time out to research and gain knowledge and understanding of the type of abuse I had been subjected to, I spent far more of my time indulging myself in whatever felt good for my soul.

Slowly and surely I rebuilt myself, formed new friendships, learned to trust people and forgave all of the past. There are still days that it haunts me, but there is a bright light at the end of the tunnel and although it can be difficult to believe that when you start walking through it, as soon as you take the first steps of acceptance the path ahead begins to become clear.

Healing comes by taking one small step at a time, with gentle, loving care and without hurry.

Article by Alex Myles

https://www.elephantjournal.com/2016/10/living-with-c-ptsd-following-an-abusive-relationship/

[plaguetrolls]

Troll Fame/Notoriety List

Because @runictrolls​ had a really good idea and setup and this will be good for potential plots/CR.

Vatrra Asilas ✦Fame: Very well-known for being a highly skilled, lowblood blacksmith. If you look for weapons, armor, even hand-crafted jewelry then Vatrra's name will come up. A perfectionist with her work.

✦Notoriety: Having a foul temper at worst and being cold at best, especially to highbloods. Has troll horns mounted on her wall and eyeballs on display. Praise for her skill often goes hand-in-hand with a warning for her attitude. Also much smaller than what you would think!

Vittez Hestur  ✦Fame: Climbing the ranks in the Knighterrors! If your troll is around his area or for some reason is interested in an archaic military branch that's still running then they may know him. He's also an accomplished athlete and competes in tournaments for jousting, wrestling, etc etc, but again: only around his home region. Also a literal giant.

✦Notoriety: A literal giant, but also seems TOO friendly? Or too dumb. His skill in combat and sports coupled with his easygoing personality don't make sense to a lot of people, maybe they think he's faking it or trying too hard to be kind.

Jolett Auudev ✦Fame: Acolyte to Mandra, and a pretty dedicated one at that. Jolett frequents carnivals and will lend a hand almost anywhere asked of them. It isn't unusual to see them going to help Mandra before anyone else, as he's their main priority. Also skilled in tap-dancing, very entertaining and WILL fall face-first into a pie if one is set out for them.

✦Notoriety: Mandra's acolyte, somehow still alive and rarely tired of Mandra's dedication. Dresses in VERY traditional clothes for clowning and is probably seen as a little weird for it. Also tries very hard to be vocal about how great the church is and why all these heathens should join in! It's probably annoying to be scouted by an acolyte.

Warron Taucer ✦Fame: Has a nice little name for herself as a florist/botanist. Nothing too special but she boasts cheap prices, flexible delivery times/locations, and quality plants. She can boast these because she's a powerful florakinetic. Her online handle may venture into less-than-legal parts of the internet on the subjects of extending lifespans, raising the dead, things like that. That online handle is also a good one to contact if a body needs to be disposed of for a (relatively cheap) fee.

✦Notoriety: In real life, Warron may have a rep among repeat customers for being ballsy as hell, delivering to dangerous places, sassing highbloods, that kind of thing. The only other weird thing would be her choice to cover herself from neck to toe. Her online handle will be notorious for shady body-disposal (nobody knows WHAT she does when she cleans up, she just Cleans Up). If your troll has a sensitivity to the supernatural, Warron sets those kinds of people off due to horrorterror influence, just a little bit. Something about her seems off, but they won't be able to pin down a reason!

Sielan Reisov ✦Fame: Sielan (legally) runs a network of trolls that help immigrants acclimate, find jobs, learn the local language, etc. She's known as a by-the-rules troll and is "supervised" by a cerulean (one of her partners in crime, Basill) who keeps everything in order. If your troll is interested in these services, whether it's for themselves/someone else or if they're interested in joining the network then they would have heard of her.

✦Notoriety: Sielan is the head of a highly illegal outfit who specializes in trading or selling classified information, identity changing/protection, and falsifying documents. She will also use her legal business to cover up for people seeking an identity change. Want to dodge the draft? Sielan can do it. Need a new identity? Sielan can do it. Change your chrome number in official documents? Name/gender change on legal documents that the local gov just won't do for one reason or another? Need to escape and start a new life? She can do it all.

Mikkel Idiias ✦Fame: Touted as one of the most interesting contemporary artists out there, Mikkel has a decent mainstream following and a HUGE underground following. While his best work (and his favorite) are his sculptures, it's his paintings that people adore. He paints weird, controversial, grotesque, beautiful, and more all on each canvas he has. Known to be a little dramatic, and to have a missing arm with no reliable explanation. He absolutely HATES being famous for painting and people think his chagrin is either an act, or "idk just a moody artist thing".

✦Notoriety: A huuuge, HUGE diva with dangerous temper tantrums! Really only known to others who have worked with him closely or have been unlucky enough to be in his studio when he has a meltdown. His painting commissions are also notoriously difficult to get (but just because he hates them). Harsh with critiques. Not unjustly so, but blunt and with little discression between someone who knows how to handle critiques and those who are still learning.

Aardyg Tacoul ✦Fame: Locally he's known as the weird hemoanon guy who will run your errands for you if you pay him. He tries to keep a low profile, but if your troll lives further down on the mountain he lives on then they probably have seen him buying someone's groceries or delivering takeout. Also a good photographer if you want some nice photos to hang around the hive.

✦Notoriety: Weird hemoanon hermit, suspiciously old, and lives WAY farther up on the mountain than anyone should be any more. It's known around the area that Aardyg lives around an abandoned town and keeps the area safe, but it's seen as sketchy and weird by some people.

Vyotia Cephes ✦Fame: Instagram famous for fashion! All about hipster and pastel goth #aesthetics.

✦Notoriety: Not much other than people online who don't like her fashion choices or "likes that fake-ass rainbowdrinker crap too much". Keeps her undead status a secret.

Sorrja Uhruhz ✦Fame: Known for selling carved-bone beads and decorations online. Known in real life for being good at brawling, hunting scary-big animals, and BEING a party animal. Sorrja frequents parties and is a social butterfly, often hanging out with Pertha (which creates MORE chaos). Sorrja is a huge flirt as well and isn't shy about taking trolls back home.

✦Notoriety: Being a masochistic brawler, and COVERED in scars. Even if she's not known by name, if someone frequents the same kind of events as her they'll recognize her due to the scars - especially the facial scar. Sorrja is also a huge flirt who has problems with red/black quadrant bleeding. She'll flirt one way and then decide it's more interesting if she does the opposite, or keep your troll on their toes so when they walk away they're like "wait was she trying to be pitch or...".

Ennkoh Poulpe ✦Fame: Well-respected in the clown community for being a fantastic contorturist, Ennkoh is seen as a strong, fear-inducing subjug who will get the job done well and in a timely manner. She's seen as dedicated to the church, but also a little morose. She is also known for her extensive knowledge in religious studies and can easily identify lots of sects of the Messiahs, as well as other non-clown religions. Some sects will know and respect her as the descendant to Tienne Poulpe, a historical clown martyr, but how much any troll would know that/be able to figure it out depends on the individual. She is also a skilled ballerina/comballerina and spends her free time dancing. Friends with the other Winterlands clowns.

✦Notoriety: Scary and seemingly unapproachable! Ennkoh comes off as very serious, and is pretty tall (and will only get taller), and even though she isn't ACTUALLY as scary as she looks, it's enough to ward off people. Depending on the sect, her being Tienne's descendant might add to the "scary" reputation because Tienne was widely feared. Ennkoh is also the odd-man out in her dance troupe because of her size and caste, and the fact that she doesn't seem to be close with the other dancers.

Clavis Icanum ✦Fame: Youtube famous (on accident) for being filmed while supernatural bullshit happens to him. Probably made fun of for it, at least a little. Also can be known through supernatural cleansing business, OR construction. Clavis likes to build and isn't opposed to helping someone renovate.

✦Notoriety: Probably became an internet meme for a while, and supernaturally-inclined trolls will feel a pull towards him. He attracts spirits and is known to flip-flop between aloof and over-friendly.

Arocle Donarr ✦Fame: As a tyrian he's known for being ruthless and a damn-near genius tactician, Arocle has orchestrated large and small events as a show of power not limited to his tyrian assassinations. In his neck of the woods as an "indigo", he's known for keeping large, dangerous animals away from neighbors' land and lusii. Arocle is also known (in real life and online) as being a literature buff as well as a history buff (more focus on literature though). He translates when needed and is an avid collector of tales (especially if he can get a copy in it's original language). Huge nerd.

✦Notoriety: He's a supposedly missing tyrian who has assassinated other heirs/heiresses before vanishing. Within his indigo persona, Arocle is intimidating and can be intense. He definitely gets what he wants with a combination of intimidation and having a silver tongue. Definitely known as a good friend to Widsth and will back him up (for good or bad) in a situation. Has and will kill for the chance to explore ruins before anyone can fuck them up.

[scriptautistic]

What would be some difficulties someone with autism would face as a cop? I know it would differ from individual to individual since it seems experiences with autism vary widely (I think? I'm still learning), but generally speaking. Like sensory overload might be an issue, right?

You’re right, every autisticperson is very different. We don’t personally know any who have worked aspolice officers, and we have a hard time imagining that any of us would wantto, to be honest, but hey, everyone is an individual and anything is possible.

There are a lot of possible problems to face here. Sensoryoverload is a very strong possibility. Sirens are awful for a lot of us.The sound of gunshots could be extraordinarily painful too. If there is astandard uniform, it might be hard to tolerate – many of us have trouble with manyparts of clothing, even the seams on socks, and have trouble finding any itemof clothing that doesn’t cause us irritation or pain all day.  

In fact, hypersensitivity in general could be a huge issue -including hyperempathy. Not all autistic people are sensitive in this way, butmany are. Hypersensitive/hyperempathetic people are easily overwhelmed byviolence and seeing others suffer. Mod Aira says: “I know that if I sawsomeone get shot, I would be incapacitated for a long time. There’s no possibleway I could do the shooting myself. I’d be more likely to let myself get killedthan to kill someone.”

However, plenty of autistic people report having normal or lowempathy, so that wouldn’t be a problem for everyone. 

Another huge hurdle wouldbe dealing with unexpected situations. Most of us have an important need forroutine and we need to plan in advance what we are going to do and what’s goingto happen to us, or we can get really anxious and overwhelmed. This comes froma combination of factors.

One factor is sensoryoverload: we have to process every detail of information that comes in throughour senses and can’t ignore the parts that aren’t important. This varies greatlyfrom person to person, but Mod Aira can offer an example from her ownexperience: “When I want to cross the street, I can’t just check to see ifthere are any cars coming and then go. My brain has to process the gum andcigarette butts stuck to the ground, the cracks in the pavement, the clouds inthe sky, the people walking by, and so on and so forth, until I finally confirmthat there are no cars there, and it takes time. And when the supermarketchanges its layout, I can stand in an aisle for five or ten minutes looking foran item that’s right in front of me, because I just can’t get through all thenew details quickly enough.” This is the case for many of us. For some, itcan take a matter of seconds to process situations like this, and for others,it can take longer. But if we have to take in new information and react instantly,it’s just not possible. Just imagine how long it would take Aira to identify asmall and unexpected detail like a gun in someone’s hand.

Another very large factoris anxiety. Most of us have a need for routine and get upset when it isdisrupted. When we know what’s going to happen, we can prepare ourselves forit, plan for it. We get used to it and we don’t have to worry or fear. But whensomething changes unexpectedly, we have to deal with something we haven’tprepared for, and we can’t do that quickly. It can be very overwhelming and we can have meltdowns or shutdowns over it. If we know that our routine is goingto be disrupted, we can have serious anxiety problems, trouble sleeping, andother issues. Many of us have spent a lot of sleepless nights terrified of theevents of the next day – even fun and positive ones like parties and seeing oldfriends – because we didn’t know exactly what was going to happen, and ouranxiety went through the roof.

Someone who works as a copwould not be able to develop much of a routine. So much of the job is dealingwith and reacting to the unexpected, the combination of constant anxiety andpossible sensory overload would be extremely stressful. It’s quite likely thatthe person would wind up overloaded a lot of the time, and possibly even havingmeltdowns – something that would be very, very dangerous for a police officerto have happen during work.

In fact, anyone with ahistory of anxiety or meltdowns would probably never be accepted into thepolice force to begin with. But not all autistic people have a history – it’sperfectly possible that the person would get the job, start working, andsuddenly be facing a level of stress, anxiety, and overload they’ve never hadto deal with before. This could trigger meltdowns for the first time in theirlife – something which could certainly cost them their job, if not worse.

Looking at the physical side of things, a lot of us have issueswith motor skills and coordination, and dyspraxia is a frequent comorbidity.Shooting a gun, fighting, running and climbing fences (all things you see incop movies – we don’t really know the details of what actual cops do on aday-to-day basis) could be difficult. So could driving a car, a thing most copsdefinitely have to do. Many autisticpeople have difficulty driving, and some can’t do it at all. Some can do it,but are constantly afraid while doing so, because they have to take in so manydetails at such a high speed, and can easily miss something critical and windup in a car accident.

Finally, there’s the social aspect. Autistic people tend to havea lot of trouble with face-to-face communication. For some of us, it’sdifficult to understand what people are saying, especially if we can’t seetheir mouths. For others, nonverbal body language is completely impossible tounderstand. Many of us lose the ability to communicate under stressfulsituations. And most of us have trouble with eye contact. I would imagine thatworking as a cop would mean having to pay attention to the small, subtle partsof communication - imagine talking to a suspect and having no idea if they arelying, even if it’s obvious to everyone else. Imagine dealing with asmartmouthed kid who hasn’t actually done anything illegal, but being unable toidentify sarcasm. Imagine being unable to lie convincingly, but needing to doso in order to save a life. Imagine being a cop and having to rely on thehonesty of the words people say, rather than the way they say them. This couldget dangerous really fast. In fact, many autistic people actually have troublewith the police, because our body language is seen as rude or inappropriate,and we answer questions in a literal way - even when we’ve done nothing wrong,we might be seen as resisting arrest or insulting a police officer. We mighteven be seen as dangerous when we’re not.

All this is not to say it’s impossible for an autistic person tobe a police officer (and if any of our followers have experience with this,we’d be happy to hear from you!). In fact, if realistically and respectfullywritten, this could make a very compelling story - the autistic person sodetermined to become a cop that they overcome the many obstacles placed intheir way (or tragically fail). Maybe it’s their special interest, and theyspend their whole life working towards it. It’s also important to keep in mind,as always, that any one autistic person might not have all of the above issues.But your character will have a LOT of hurdles to overcome, and you need toaddress those in your story.

-Mod Aira and Mod Cat