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clatterbane · 1 month ago

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I even thought of this in the usual roundabout way, being reminded by thinking of some medical professionals' stubborn insistence that I must regularly be carrying pretty much my whole body weight on the remaining meat leg, for life--when nothing works that way biomechanically. (And I keep at least semi-politely saying so whenever it is brought up.)

If you don't get fairly even weightbearing going ASAP with a prosthetic, absolutely everything is going to be thrown out of whack. That WILL fuck you up. A lot like gimping around with a lopsided gait from one leg shorter than the other or "just" a fucked-up knee (which I personally know too much about): it'll throw ALL of your joints and muscles off. Pretty soon a missing leg will be the least of your concerns.

I was definitely feeling the imbalance in my back at first, before I could build up more muscle again. Was pleasantly surprised NOT to have that already screwy hip that really wants to pop out getting in on the act too, for once.

But yeah, I have to be extra careful about these things. A messed-up gait will fuck me over faster and more comprehensively than most people even. And can get very frustrating when professionals from other specialties Dunning-Kruger it and talk through their asses right over your saying, "No, this is not at all what's happening with my body. Which I do live in and move around through space--and better than y'all seem to keep expecting these days."

Which turned into more of a long ranty tangent than I was aiming for. But it really does strain me sometimes, not to go nearly as full-on snarky to their faces as some of these people have earned.

But anyway, then it somehow only really hit me that, by any usual standards? My Biodad was also kinda disabled!

I mean, not only is that where I got at least half the brainweird? He needed orthotic shoes, he was also technically an amputee, and his liver function was pretty screwy and needed some coddling after getting hospital-borne Hep B while he was in for one of the multiple surgeries for the clubfoot he was born with (requiring the orthotics from the time he started walking, yeah).

Probably also had dermatitis herpetiformis--a.k.a. "celiac of the skin"--since we evidently got the same weird "eczema” rashes in some of the same characteristic places. Oh yeah, and the probably-EDS to pass along, and make life more fun with the mechanical leg and foot issues.

He apparently did spend the first few years of his life getting surgeries with '50s-era medical technology, and in and out of casts. Probably picked up more than a little medical trauma himself, along with the hepatitis liver damage. While also being a hyper little shit who couldn't stay off it when he should. Almost surprising that the man did end up with as good a mobility as he did, with one leg left shorter seeming to be the main thing there.

The amputee part was actually from his managing to blast a couple of his own toes off in his teens, trying to get over a fence with a shotgun in an ill-advised manner while out hunting. The neurodivergent impatience and dyspraxia basically did his toes in, and I can unfortunately relate.

You can also maybe imagine how thrilled his parents were when the kid with the existing foot and leg issues went quite literally shooting himself in the foot.

I guess they just switched the orthotics up a little to also accommodate the now-missing toes after that, on the practical side of things.

(And none of this stopped him from getting drafted, btw. Another reason to love the military.)

But yeah, nobody ever really acted like any of this was any sort of big deal? He got around OK as long as the leg length discrepancy was addressed, and didn't seem to have serious lasting pain from any of it.

Though I would be amazed if he didn't get some. Besides the multiple medical leg breaks, etc.? Traumatic amputees are often prone to worse "phantom" nerve pain afterwards, and that includes fingers and toes. It's gotta hurt like a sonofabitch to get a foot full enough of birdshot at close range that it obliterates at least one toe. If an accident of that (haha) caliber happens, your nerves may stubbornly keep registering that damage from then on after the chop. I was lucky in a way with "just" sepsis that had me pretty well knocked out and not registering much before the chop.

(I am guessing birdshot there, since he just lost those toes and not more of the foot/leg. Don't recall anybody ever saying. But, shot diameter really doesn't matter. None of it is going to feel great suddenly entering your body, or in the immediate aftermath. And our nervous systems are very often even worse than I am at letting anything go. 😬)

At any rate, I guess he could have started out as "Crippled Billy" a hundred years before--even down to the actual name. Then he graduated to "Eh, he does manage to get around pretty well" Billy, who turns yellow at the drop of a hat, keeps having assorted GI problems, and gets the damnedest rashes. Boy's basically fine. Look at him go! ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Honestly says something about not only some longer-term attitudes and expectations, but also my family. On both sides. For good and...not so much.

#personal #rambling #disability

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londonfog-chan · 1 year ago

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Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader: Rite Here, Rite Now Part 1

This two shot fic is dedicated to that poor soul on TikTok getting shitty comments about a headcanon of Eddie liking Ghost. Fandom has become so damn toxic bro. Who cares about what an imaginary character likes or dislikes?? We are cringe, we are legion. We make out of pocket headcanons sometimes. Like come on, Eddie might “theoretically” dislike Mary On A Cross specifically for various reasons, but I could see him having some favorites. You can’t say he would entirely hate Ghost when fucking Year Zero and Mummy Dust exist. Or the whole of Prequelle as an album. I had to laugh at one person saying he liked Avenged Sevenfold (it didn’t exist in the 80’s and neither did Ghost like we are literally arguing about shit he wouldn’t have known about be so serious rn). But I digress. I’ve even gotten a couple hateful comments on a fun little TikTok I made and I honestly have just been deleting them and blocking. Don’t even want to deal with people’s bullshit anymore. Please enjoy this spite fic and continue writing and having fun babes. Go against the flow and make Eddie proud.

Part 1 (You are Here), Part 2

***

Every member of Corroded Coffin could tell when you arrived to a function. Eddie knew the sound of your car like a cat that knows when its owner is home, and he’d be waiting outside the school to greet you first. That and the car make and model. Someone always called it if not Eddie. He’d been off his game today though, definitely the excited nerves. Jeff called out your 1979 Volkswagen Beetle heading up the driveway by slugging Eddie hard on the bicep, Gareth and Dougie immediately following up with calling “no tag backs” as they rushed to hit each other and Eddie like a bunch of middle schoolers. Eddie almost got nailed by Dougie’s beefy fist until he nimbly dodged out of the way, cradling his prized Warlock like it was a newborn.

“God dammit, easy asshole!” Eddie laughed. “Don’t be hitting my baby! I need her intact if I’m going to impress our songstress.”

“Trust me Ed, she doesn’t need more impressing. You had her in a tizzy when you asked her to write a song for you. I wonder what she came up with.” Gareth said, leaning forward so his hands were settled on both his high and medium toms, he was watching your approach intently with a gleam in his eye. “She didn’t even make it to campaign on Friday. Must have really been in the zone.”

You parked the car against the side of the driveway, emerging looking as though you’d just swallowed a whole mouthful of cry baby sour gum. Your lips were pressed tightly together, clutching your fat Trapper Keeper to your chest as you approached the group.

“Hey sweetheart!” Eddie called, waving you over enthusiastically. “You okay?”

“Eddie… God it’s so bad… It’s worse than I thought.” You said, grimacing.

God you looked delicious. He couldn’t help himself but to stare and smile like a dope. With each step your flowing gray skirt swished enticingly side to side, and with a bit of pride Eddie noticed you were wearing the Twisted Sister shirt he’d distressed for you, looking like an adorable snack of a metalhead with your black clothes, black opaque tights and dirty Chucks.

Eddie’s smile faltered only slightly when he heard your self depreciation.

“Oh come on, can’t be that bad. Not with those grades you’ve got in English. Let me see…”

“Fuck no! No seriously… it’s worse than you think.” You insisted, shaking your head and pulling away from his outstretched hand, “It’s so… God dammit! What the hell was I thinking…?”

Gareth, Jeff and Dougie left their instruments to approach you, Eddie putting both hands on your shoulders to comfort you.

“Hey, hey… come on, don’t be like that.” He said, smile gone and a more serious look on his face. “I get it, I really do. It comes with the territory of writing your own songs. Trust me, I’ve done it for years. You won’t pick it up overnight, and whatever you think is weak we can work on it together. I’m a DM honey, I can have my pen out faster than you can blink and help redraft as many times as it takes.”

“Oh… god dammit… okay, fine…”

You reluctantly handed Eddie the trapper keeper, the velcro making a harsh rip as he pulled it open to the first page where your lyrics neatly sat waiting for him to peruse. Eddie’s eyebrow raised when he saw the title, “Square Hammer”, outlined in red ink.

“ ‘Square Hammer’? … Huh… I like it, that’s good.” Eddie nodded, and continued to read on.

The lyrics were certainly unique to say the least. It was obvious you’d tried to go with a theme based on the prompt he’d given you: something that oozes the brooding dark metal he envisioned Corroded Coffin would croon to thousands of fans. You certainly had an affinity for the macabre, and he knew he could trust you with everything he wanted in his vision. Then again you could have written the cheesiest, poppy trash in the world and he would have loved it. He was extremely biased, far too sweet on you for his own good. But these weren’t bad at all. The lyrics reminded him of old Hollywood vampire movies, echoing the work of Doctor Faustus with the thematic element in the song. The voice of the lyrics seemed to be coming from an otherworldly entity, one summoned to offer power and prestige to the listener.

And Eddie was obsessed with every word the further he read on.

“Woah, woah…”

His eyes widened with every sentence he read.

“Holy shit…”

Powers clandestine, solving a crooked rhyme… Every line, no matter how simple, packed a lot when combined in the collective.

Eddie finally looked up at you, completely bewildered.

“You wrote this by yourself?!” He croaked.

You were embarrassed to hell, curling in on yourself and looking like you wanted to die.

“Ye… yeah… I… When you asked me to write for you, I got really stuck on what I wanted to do. But I remember you mentioned Black Sabbath was one of your first covers, and then I couldn’t get the image of the coffin out of my head because, you know, “Corroded Coffin”… and then we were reading Faustus in Mrs. O’Donnell’s class and I thought since you asked me to do you this favor and Faustus is all about favors…-“

You were rambling. Not even paying attention to Eddie’s continually growing grin. He was bouncing on the balls of his feet the longer you ranted on, until his untamable outburst silenced you.

“THIS IS AMAZING!” Eddie was screaming, scaring the shit out of everyone. “Holy fuck sweetheart! Are you bullshitting me?! This is… fuck! We’ve been stressing for new material for next month’s gig at The Hideout and you just gave it to us on a silver platter?! Jesus H.!”

“Bwha-?!”

“Check this out…!” Eddie turned away to show his friends while you quietly protested, unable to speak as he passed the paper around. The guys crowded around, each one shouting out when they saw a favorite part, “hammering the nails into the sacred coffin” quickly became a favorite, because they immediately began trying to work out how they could fit the lyrics to sound.

“All we gotta do is work out a melody and we’re in business baby!” Eddie said. “This is bitchin’!”

“But it doesn’t even make any sense!” You argued. “Like seriously? The entrance to the shrine part does not fucking fit, I only wrote it because I couldn’t come up with a better rhyme with clandestine!”

“Who cares?” Eddie cried. “It’s badass as hell! The imagery is absolutely savage… ‘Hiding from the night, sacrificing nothing’, and don’t let me forget about the little tongue in cheek line you added about hammering nails into a sacred coffin!”

“It’s fucking great!” Echoed Jeff.

“You should be proud. You managed to take our style and give it a unique spin, that’s not something anyone can do.” Eddie praised. “God dammit… I’d have been a millionaire by now if I could write like this.”

“You… you really liked those parts?” You asked cautiously.

“Of course I did sweetheart! This is real metal shit right here. And the part with the ‘crooked rhyme’? That really captured the creep factor I was looking for. Shit… what’s more metal than summoning a demon for a deal? That’s exactly what Corroded Coffin needs in its material. I love this little brain of yours!”

“Don’t forget Ed!” Dougie cut in. “ ‘Are you ready to swear right here right now before the devil’?!”

“Bitchin’! Keep this up, and I’m gonna wanna make you write all of Corroded Coffin’s songs from now on!” Eddie beamed happily.

“We gotta get the melody worked out!” Jeff said, “Any ideas? I could come up with a few…”

The boys began gabbing together, Eddie unable to help himself as he began to strum his precious 1984 BC Warlock, his black beauty. Without a doubt he could already envision how he could make his baby purr for you, impress you, take you out finally.

And then you changed his world forever.

“… I had an idea for a melody already…” you said quietly.

All eyes turned to you. The guys were thunderstruck.

“Seriously?! Lyrics and a melody?! You’re spoiling the shit out of me sweetheart! Jeff, let her borrow your…-“

“No… no I… I don’t know how to play guitar…” you said, cutting off Eddie sheepishly, “But I… I brought my Casio with me…”

“Where is it?!”

“In the trunk of my bug…”

“Well go get it! Show me whatcha got sweetheart!”

Eddie followed you to the front of the Volkswagen. Everyone always thought the front trunk was the coolest shit ever and he was no exception. The cool car only added to the many things he liked about you. You took out the obnoxiously large keyboard and the stand, fumbling to close the trunk until Eddie stepped in with an “easy… I got it”, slamming the trunk shut and helping you lift the Casio like a gentleman. You were shaking, vibrating with embarrassment so hard that Eddie had to help you plug everything in and adjust the sound, hovering and reaching over you on purpose hoping you’d notice and feel his burn for you.

“Alright sweetheart? Show us what you’ve got.”

You turned on the Casio and fingered the keys gently, warming up with a few chords as you tried to soothe the shaking in your fingers. Fiddling with the settings, you stalled as long as you could while the boys waited patiently. Once you found the setting you wanted, you went for it.

It was like a demon had possessed your body. The melody was quick, but it packed a hell of a punch. It was in the key of D minor, and you had ironically chosen what sounded like a combination of 1960’s psychedelic sticky rhodes and Transylvanian organ to achieve the effect you wanted. The sound overall was eerie, yet enchantingly fun all at the same time. And your singing! You were singing softly under your breath, rocking yourself to the melody on the tips of your worn out sneakers, and you had quite the set of pipes! Despite your shot nerves, you’d clearly come up with something truly special that no one else in the entire world could have conceived of.

It wasn’t the traditional metal Eddie had in mind, more avant-garde, theatrical even. Whereas he had expected a sound more like Black Sabbath, you played something not out of place at a theater performance of Dracula. But this sound… there was something that nagged him about it. It was a sound that Eddie could imagine playing to arenas of screaming, adoring fans.

“Gentlemen… that’s our fucking song!” Eddie cried, “That’s our song, it’s a goddamned masterpiece!”

The Casio halted, and your mouth was hanging open mid play.

“What?! How-…” you began.

“I can already hear the riff, Ed what do you think of following with standard tuning instead of going to D minor?” Jeff picked up his Gibson and began to play, mimicking what he heard on your Casio by ear. “If you move it, the sound is way off from what I’m envisioning. But if you keep it at standard you leave it easier on the fingers with the couple of open notes when you start stretching.”

“Yeah, yeah! If you tune it down it’s going to sound off with her playing when you hit the chords.” Eddie agreed, immediately looking back at you. “Play it one more time sweetheart?”

You cautiously complied, going through the melody one more time as Jeff began to follow with you. Eddie was completely absorbed in your music, listening to both you and Jeff play and following along quietly. The warlock in his hands eventually couldn’t be helped, humming to life when he started playing a chord at a time by ear. As he played, he kept you repeating the melody over and over, both Eddie and Jeff deep in concentration on the sound. It was getting almost exhausting trying to continually repeat the sound until they got it right.

“D minor.” Eddie said, playing a note.

“Then she does B flat there.” Jeff played.

“A minor.” They said in unison.

“C. And that’s what I’m thinking your rhythm guitar can do, meanwhile, I’ll keep the root of the chords for the riff so I can follow her keys.” Eddie said, and he began to perfectly copy your melody. “Okay sweetheart, just one more time… and then let’s bring everything together.”

#reader insert #eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #reader insert fiction #ghost #please make this man a dork for someone #I had to do it my damn self #flight of Icarus had me fucked up yo #like please let this man just be a fucking goober #did reader just become Tobias Forge #yes #yes she did #I listened to square hammer at least 30 times to describe it in one fucking sentence

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joltai-showa · 3 months ago

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ANOTHER three months later, but let's try continuing rereading Naruto (I will never finish this rambling series)

my laptop decided to fucking die again, so I guess no bg3/genshin/hsr for me for now

anyway, where were we with this one?

right, Naruto cut his hand to get the poison out or smth

Hiruzen, why did you give Kakashi these 13 year olds again? I mean, he's gotten better at not killing these kids compared to his own team back in the day, but nonetheless, the exhibit above is an argument against entrusting these Very Important Children to the guy who's biggest dream is a rope and a tree

where the fuck did you learn that Sakura

also who's responsible for sex education in the shinobi world huh

the Academy? but Naruto's a dumbass, most kids leave way earlier.

the jury is still out on whether this world even has other civilian schools (or hidden villages in particular). theoretically they could have been responsible, but this still doesn't cover the main characters in this situation.

the team leaders? now that's a funny image. considering none of them have been actually taught how to teach children (thank you Hiruzen because who needs a proper fucking teacher when they are already a "full-fledged" shinobi who can *gasp* throw a knife at the enemy), I'd love to see how Kakashi, Gai, Asuma and Kurenai would be dealing with that

(my bet is on Kurenai. Gai will have the right spirit, though! Kakashi and Asume are hopeless, though)

I'm probably overthinking this, considering the setting is supposed to be something like early industrial era, and the sex ed could be summirised into "rule one, pull out. rule two, if broke rule one, run. girls, thoughts and prayers🙏don't even bother trying to achieve anything in life beyond your family function, the author of this universe is a raging misogynist🙏"

also not really relevant for Naruto and Sasuke as they shall soon discover the wonders of say gex

the covers for chapters are always so cool

Kakashi why do you look like you are high as a kite

(honestly he does most of the time in Kishimoto's early style)

that's what you mom said to me last night😏😏😏😏LMAO GOTTEM

I'm so sorry Kushina, I didn't mean to🫣it just kind of got out on its own

anyway, it's... an alright bridge? did Naruto never see a bridge in his life? I guess if Hiruzen wasn't mentally impaired before and kept their only fucking jinchuriki in the village, Naruto wouldn't have seen something like that, at least it's not common in Konoha's architecture from what I remember (compared to Kiri and Iwa, at least)

First of all, you guys have engines?

Secondly, right, early Naruto, we aren't at that point when we are fighting some vague bullshit like "tHe SYsteM tHaT cAUseS DEsPAiR" or the human desire for conflict, it's a battle against the scariest enemy of all - capitalism

(I respect a lot of the grind of the major villains in Naruto, but Obito's so lazily written I will never stop taking jabs at him. that's what you get for writing a grown ass man with the worldview of a 12 year old, Kishimoto)

(and yes if you don't know me/have forgotten, I am that unique specimen that loves fanon Obito that actually utilizes the things in his story that could have made him one of the best characters in this series and absolutely fucking hates canon Obito for being the biggest piece of dogshit Kishimoto tried to concot and pass off as a coherent character)

okay ramble over, let's get back to the chapter

in retrospective, Naruto did end up being a downgrade, considering the fact that we went from fighting Jeff fucking Bezos to, like, 10 Ted Kaczynskis

(or is Gato Elon Musk? I think I've seen news that he is now the richiest man in the world. I guess "marine transportation" and "boats with engines" for people in Naruto world would be something alike to "space expeditions" and "spaceships" to us irl. yeah, I guess Team 7 and Zabuza are fighting their Elon Musk huh)

note to self drugs do exist in Naruto. they are also trafficed across borders. considering the location of the events (Land of Waves), does that mean that the region works as fertile grounds for drugs growth? did Blood Mist next door dabble in drug trade?

is Obito addicted to something back from those glorious days of mass murder🤔that would honestly explain a lot of the weird things about Akatsuki - man was high off his mind half of the time

joking, joking, of course

but also a big question as to a) what countries end up under Gato's control, because none of these are mentioned as far as I remember b) how the fuck can this even happen during feudal-but-not-quite system of Naruto world? a capitalist businessman can control a modern government via lobbying and such, but how do you go about daimiyos and such? bribe them? pretty sure they are loaded already, quite a few of them own their little military paratroopers called shinobi, and, presumably, have quite the ego as the rightful rulers of the lands or whatever.

anyway Gato is a mystery, and I'm surprised we don't see Kakuzu sending love poems to the guy. capitalist old men yaoi💘

after a short intro into why Gato is scary and mean and why he wants Tazuna dead this is what Naruto looks like.

the darkest day for Konoha was when Pain attacked. the second darkest day was when they made Naruto Hokage, cuz this dumbass has no idea how politics work and what to do if the power of friendship does not work (it always does, thank you power of the plot)

B-rank is NOT elite🫣wtf

#naruto #jolt showa's ramblings

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canmom · 2 years ago

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i was a very online teenager. i struggled with in-person interpersonal relationships and spent a lot of time on a much less sanded down internet than the one we have today. and my peers at school were on that same internet.

so of course i saw porn of various kinds, from goofy flash videos to the standard catalogue of shock images (goatse, meatspin etc.). like most kids my age, we took it mostly as a big joke. it was exciting mostly only because it was forbidden, like swearing. so people would talk about something like 2girls1cup, and whether you'd seen it, in much the same way you'd talk about having seen gory shock horror films like Saw. none of this was particularly upsetting or shocking. (i found gore way more discomforting, in general.)

even so, the whole environment was rife with repression. and frankly, 'imply someone is gay' ('batty boy' is one especially goofy slur i remember) being a default category of joke did way more damage than knowing some people are into scat or playing a flash game where you can see a drawing of some boobs. implicitly sexual insults would be common, often playing on someone's naivete. i got very used to 'do you have ginger pubes'. tricking someone into saying something 'sexual' without understanding, and then laughing at them, was another one - i suppose it functioned a way of showing your proximity to the mysterious adult world of knowing about sex.

so after a few years of that, i went through a whole period of just... trying to distance myself from having anything to do with sex. we didn't have 'asexuality' language back then, but i probably would have jumped on it if it had been available. 'sex is gross' was the only frame i had to distance myself from how my classmates talked about sexuality, because i didn't have a handle on what was really up, just that i didn't like it. projecting 'i am above it all and find it disgusting' was a form of armour that calcified around me and ultimately did tons of damage to my ability to understand my own feelings. as i got older, this got mixed up in the moralistic rhetoric of online 'social justice'.

when i got to university and finally started to knock down that wall, i had to speedrun figuring out "how to do relationship". (i dived into polyamory head first, and of course that all went as badly as first relationships usually do.) it's been messy.

i reckon if i'd been willing to approach subcultures as a teenager that had given more room to experiment with like, desire and expression and so on... like if i hadn't let the background contempt get under my skin, for the emos and furries and whatever other 'having too much of the wrong kind of fun' social group we were all supposed to hate... i would probably have been a lot happier! if i'd had any out gay people around me before age 17!

the idea of trying to make sure people never see anything ever related to sex until they're 18, outside of whatever the government deigns to allow to be said in sex ed class, is so hopelessly arse-backwards. it's not going to work - a generation that grew up on the internet is going to be way better at getting to what they want to see than the censors are at blocking it, so the main function of the censorship is to reinforce the idea that they're looking at something shameful and secret. it's not going to protect kids - if anything i suspect it's going to make them more vulnerable to exploitation and mistreatment, either by adults who can offer 'access to the forbidden secrets of sexuality', or by their peers by producing this dumbass hierarchy. and tbh i think knowing about all the weird fetishes there are in the world is actually a really beneficial thing, in the same category of 'seeing your grandma's tits at the spa'.

unless, i guess, what you really want to do is teach everyone how to bypass censorship and distrust authority figures? i think there might be better ways to do that, though!

#preaching to the choir here i think #nevertheless my goat has been gotten

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thornwolfy235 · 8 months ago

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WIP 2 - Dancing

I'm going to post a bunch of WIPs in a row now. maybe with a little feedback I'll get the gumption to finish one of them.

A bit of info on them first. I wrote all of these in an effort to deal with an exceptionally bad break-up (might as well call it a divorce, we lived together for 6 years). A lot of these are "how it should've gone" type stuff. I was never able to decide if they should be a full chapter by chapter "novel" or just a bunch of oneshots within the same universe and make a collection of them in order or whatever. Maybe I'll drop them to Ao3 as well. They are all xfem!Readers with my blorbos Grillby and Gaster (though most have no anatomy mentioned, so you can safely read no matter what gender you are). I'd appreciate a glance through if nothing else.

This one is of fem!Reader in a developed poly relationship with Grillby and Gaster (returned from the Void). Reader is very self-conscious about dancing, and the boys help her out. Again, female pronouns are used, but it's not heavily gendered so anyone can read with minor mental substitutions.

“And that should do it,” Gaster muttered.

You looked over from where you were working on the next section of a mural (a snowy scene in honor of Snowdin Town) above Grillby’s alcohol shelves to watch one slightly-droopy skeletal Monster unfold from the uncomfortable crouch he had been in behind the ancient jukebox. He sometimes reminded you of a tree; thin, all limbs, and impossibly tall. He stretched (only adding to the tree imagery), sighing as his spine popped. “How long do you think this repair will last?” you asked with a smirk.

“Not long enough,” he replied, giving the jukebox a stern look. “There are days I wonder if it breaks down just to mock me. Former Royal Scientist, and I can’t even keep a simple music player in working order.”

“I’m sure it would be happier if we could get the right parts for it. Now if only we knew what those were,” you said, turning back to your work. If you could just get the highlight on this pine branch right, you’d also be a lot happier…

Gaster mumbled something, making you snicker. As much as he grouched, you knew he’d happily play handyman as often as needed for Grillby’s sake.

‘Grillby’s’ had been in business on the Surface for just over a year, and his beloved, cobbled-together jukebox remained a staple in the corner just as it had in the Underground. You believed the shell was mostly that of a Rock-Ola Luxury Light while the interior mechanism was Frankenstein-ed from a Wurlitzer OMT-CD changer and several car stereos, but it was made from so many countless odds and ends that had found their way into the Underground that it was impossible to know for sure. Honestly, it was no surprise when it didn’t work and a miracle when it did. Grillby adored the thing and would never replace it nor let it be gutted and retrofitted with something more modern (sentimentality generally won out over practicality with him), which meant you, Sans, or Alphys were tasked with reviving when it inevitably broke down every few weeks. It had been slightly better behaved since Gaster’s…‘return’ four or so months ago, but it still liked to kick up a fuss, finding ever more creative ways to stop functioning, seemingly just to keep the skeleton on his toes.

The mural was a recent idea. Grillby had always felt that top of the shelving was too bare, but was reluctant to put anything up there that he would have to regularly dust. You’d suggested some pictures, Gaster had jumped in with the idea of a mural, and then somehow your Monster beaus had convinced you to get up on a ladder and do it yourself. You could handle the height as long as you didn’t look straight down. At all. (Your knees still shook when you remembered you were not standing on the floor and it took a few moments of deep breathing to get them to stop.)

“I believe I have this beast in working order, for now at least,” Gaster answered grumpily.

The “‘Fire’ Exit” opened, and Grillby came in with another tray of pint glasses from the dishwasher. “How are things coming along out here?” he asked, setting it on the bar to put the glasses away.

“It certainly is finicky,” Grillby said fondly. “And how about you?” A warm hand gently tapped your leg.

“Fine,” you answered shortly, thought it was not actually ‘fine’ in your opinion. You added a touch more yellow to the mix for the highlight and went to try again.

A sudden, loud scraping sound made you jump, dropping your paintbrush and palette in favor of clinging onto the ladder for dear life. “Sorry, sorry!” Gaster yelped, the noise stopping as abruptly as it had started. You felt pressure on your back and on your arm. Glancing at your arm, you found one of Gaster’s summoned hands gripping your bicep. What you felt on your back was probably another, the pair helping to keep you steady. “Sorry,” he said again, sheepishly this time. “I was attempting to push the beast back into place since I still can’t lift it. I should have warned you first.”

You blew out a long sigh. “Please tell me I didn’t scream.”

“You didn’t scream,” Grillby said far too cheerfully.

You looked down and immediately wished you hadn’t as a wave of vertigo hit you. You shut your eyes and went back to clinging. “Sorry for dropping everything on you,” you said once you were sure your voice wouldn’t squeak. “Nothing got on you, did it?”

“All’s well. I caught them,” he answered. You carefully looked down again, making sure to look at him and not the floor. He had indeed somehow caught both the brush and the palette without a drop of paint on him or anything else.

“Reflexes of a cat,” you muttered.

He shrugged, grinning. “What can I say; bar tricks keep me in practice.” The smile waned, flames dipping slightly. “Why don’t you take a break? You’ve been working on that for a while.”

You looked back at the mural and sighed. “In a bit. There’s just a few more things I want to get right before stopping for the night.” You held out a hand for your things back.

“You said that before Wings got here, and again just before he started working on the jukebox. You really should take a break. Give your eyes and your hand a rest, hm?”

“Just this one highlight, please? I almost have it right.”

“I’m holding your brush and paint hostage. Come down. You’re taking a break,” Grillby said flatly.

“…Meanie.”

“Yes, I am truly the cruelest Monster in existence,” he said with a merry crackle.

Slowly, one rung at a time, you came down the ladder, Gaster’s summoned hand still reassuringly on your back. You could’ve melted the moment your feet touched the floor. “Oh, terra firma, I’ve missed you so,” you sighed lovingly, gazing at the worn planks.

The elemental snorted, giving your hair an affectionate ruffle as he handed you your brush and palette. “Go wash these while I help Wings get the ‘beast’ back where it belongs.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Or I could go back up and finish that section off now that I have everything back,” you said with a mischievous smirk.

“You won’t. Your legs are still shaking,” Grillby said over his shoulder as he rounded the bar counter.

You watched the two Monsters dance. They moved easily, elegantly through the steps of some form of ballroom dance – foxtrot, maybe? – as though they had done it hundreds of times before. Maybe they had, now that you thought about it, forgotten during the time that Gaster was…‘missing,’ but now remembered. Grillby’s flames were vibrant orange and yellow, laughing as Gaster spun him out, then back to his chest. Gaster caught him and nuzzled his cheek, his own colored with a soft lavender blush. There was a pang in your chest. You wanted to dance, too…

You huffed, because of course he was right, and went to the bathroom to wash/scrape the paint off of yourself and everything else.

((needs stuff))

But you couldn’t. It just wasn’t a thing that was possible, at least not with them. You would just end up looking like an idiot and ruining their fun. It would be better to just keep quiet. At least you still could enjoy their happiness.

The song ended and the next began. They kissed before parting to give each other a silly, theatrical bow, still riding high on their shared fun. And then Gaster turned to you, holding out a hand. “May I have the next dance, starshine?” he asked, giving you a bow of your own. Grillby looked you expectantly, still grinning wildly from his own.

Crap. You forced a smile as you waved the hand away. “No, I’m fine. You guys can continue.”

“Nonsense! There’s no need to be left out,” he laughed.

Except you shouldbe. Dancing wasn’t something for you to do, but denying him would disappoint him, and accepting would only prove him wrong. No matter how you answered, you were going to let him down. “I’m…still shaky from being up on the ladder. Legs are tired from holding me up for so long, you know?” you tried dodging the invitation again.

“Is that so? Are you sure you aren’t being shy?” Gaster teased, flexing his outstretched hand in a beckoning motion, unaware of your mounting anxiety. “It’s just us, dearest. Come, dance with me.”

“I-I don’t know how to,” you said, feeling your expression falter. You saw Grillby’s flames dim out of the corner of your eye, catching your mood-shift.

“…Pardon?” Gaster’s face fell as he straightened, clearly puzzled by your response.

“Then I’ll teach you!”

Your smile left completely. “You can’t,” you said softly, hugging yourself.

Grillby, however, knew where your thoughts were heading. Worriedly, he put a hand on your shoulder. “Sweet spark, no. Whatever he told you, you know it isn’t true, and you knowit isn’t what we think.”

Gaster’s eyelights darted to Grillby and back. “Starshine, what’s wrong?”

You took a breath, trying to force down the hurt inside you. You reached up to grip Grillby’s fingers. “It’s just something my…my ex-fiancé told me.” The silence stretched between the three of you. You didn’t want to admit what was wrong to them; it was stupid, it was pointless, it didn’t matter…

You started talking to fill the silence. “H-he said he knew how to dance, and in lots of different styles, too. I always wanted to dance with him, but he told me we couldn’t because I didn’t know how. So I asked him to teach me, but he said it wasn’t possible. We couldn’t even go to a class or something together because I…He told me I was too short, said he couldn’t dance with someone so much smaller than him, even if I know how to. And whenever I asked if we could just do that hug-and-sway thing, he’d just dismiss as not actually dancing. So we just…didn’t dance,” you said without looking at them, feeling the tears welling up. You’d meant stop talking there – surely they’d think the rest of the story was pointless and whiny and you were dumb for still being hung up on it – but the words kept coming. “A-and after…a-after he cheated on me and then tried to keep both of us, h-he would tell…t-tell me how he would dance with them.” You bit your lip hard, hoping to keep it from trembling. You were ashamed of yourself; ashamed of the memories that still haunted you, ashamed that they still hurt as much as they did, and ashamed for ruining Gaster’s and Grillby’s good mood.

Grillby pulled his hand from yours to wrap his arms around you. “Oh, spark, is this why you’ve never –”

“What a preposterous thing to tell someone! You couldn’t dance with him?!” Gaster cried, flinging his arms out in disbelief as he began pacing, agitation making it impossible for him to stand still. “Not to mention rude and callous! And then this-this imbecile bragged about dancing with someone else?! The more I find out about this person, the more appalled by him I am!” He whirled back to face you. “How did you ever put up with this behavior for so long?!” You cringed guiltily, the first tears escaping.

“Gentle, birdwing. She’s hurting,” Grillby said softly, tucking you under his chin as though he could hide you away from the memories.

“Well, of course she is! What a horrid thing to have been told by someone you love! You can’t dance – Everyone can dance!” Gaster charged on before Grillby’s words sank in. His gaze locked onto you, sharp eyelights fuzzing at the edges, posture softening as he took in the look on your face. “Oh! Oh, starshine… I’m sorry for yelling. It was not directed at you. There is no reason at all that you couldn’t learn to dance, even from me. Stars, I don’t even mind if you don’t want to learn. We can just…‘hug-and-sway,’ as you put it. To be together and happy is what matters,” he said gently as he came back to you.

“But I’m so much smaller –”

“That doesn’t matter, either. Grillby is shorter than I am, and we just had a lovely dance.”

“And I’m shorter than him! It…i-it just wouldn’t work, okay?!” you snapped before curling in on yourself, eyes fixed firmly on the floor, humiliated by your outburst. “I-I’m sorry for getting upset. I shouldn’t have said anything. J-just…forget about it.”

“Now, none of that! Anyone can dance with anyone. Come,” Gaster said sharply, clearly done with your self-depreciating. He held out a hand to you again. You looked at it as though it might bite you.

Grillby gave you a gentle squeeze. “You’ll be okay, spark. I learned how to dance from Wings as well.” He lowered his head and whispered into your ear, “He likes using fancy words, but he is a good teacher. He’ll take care of you.”

Gaster shot the elemental a look. “I may not have ears, but I’m not deaf,” he said, though his tone was considerably softer than the authoritative bark it just was. “But he is right, star,” he continued, gaze moving back to you. “I want nothing more than for you to enjoy this. I do not expect perfection, nor will it make me happy. Seeing you happy is what will make me happy. I’ll even refrain from using any ‘fancy words.’ So…may I have this dance?”

You shouldn’t – it could only end badly – but you hesitantly stepped out of Grillby’s arms and put your hand in the skeleton’s. His fingers closed around yours and he led you to the center of the floor. You were shaking, feeling like the entire world was watching you, judging you. You wanted to hide from those imagined, spiteful eyes. You couldn’t do this. You weren’t coordinated like Grillby or graceful like Gaster. You weren’t elegant. You could barely walk straight on a good day. You were a klutz – you had the bruises you didn’t remember getting to prove it. You were going to fail, you were going to let them down, you were –

Abruptly, thin, boney arms wrapped around you, pulling you into a tight embrace. Your glasses were taken from you before a hand pushed your face into the soft sweater before you. You inhaled the slight ozone-and-old-book smell that always seemed to cling to Gaster as a choked gasp escaped you despite your efforts to avoid crying. You twitched with nervous energy, everything screaming at you to just spare everyone the trouble and the misery and run, but the skeleton held you still, steady. A soft kiss was placed on the top of your head. “Breathe, little star. I have you, and Grillby is but a few steps away. We are here with you. All is well,” he murmured into your hair.

“I-I can’t do this. I’m just an embarrassment waiting to happen, I-I’m going to ruin everything. I’m ruining everything right now!” you mumbled into his sweater, fingers digging into the soft fibers.

“You are not ‘ruining’ anything, and you aren’t an embarrassment, I promise,” he said calmly. “Let’s see…You are going to feel awkward and clumsy for most of this. You are going to trip over your own feet and likely mine. You are going to lose count or tempo with the music at some point. You are going to miss at least one cue I give you. In other words, you are going to do just fine for a beginner. You will make mistakes, and they will be the same mistakes everyone else who was learning to dance has ever made.”

A warm hand touched your shoulder. “If you’re feeling self-conscious, would it help if I left the room?” Grillby asked softly. You peeked out from Gaster’s chest to look at the elemental. His flames burned a dull red-orange, and though he was currently blurry, you knew his head was tilted with concern.

“No…no, don’t go. I-I just…I’m just going to be a mess to watch,” you said, returning to your hiding spot.

“I believe that would fall into the ‘clumsy’ category,” Gaster teased gently, rubbing small circles between your shoulder blades. He held you tight, keeping you grounded, until you were finally able to look up into his face. He was smiling, eyelights large and fuzzy, full of love and understanding. “Are you alright?” You took a shaky breath but nodded. “Listen to me, starshine, if you really do not want to try dancing with me, I won’t force you. I do think it would be good for you to try, but I won’t make you if you are that uncomfortable with it,” Gaster said, wiping away an errant tear with his thumb.

You sighed. “No…you’re right. I should try. A-and I do want to dance, I’m just…scared.”

“I know, and that’s alright.” He kissed your forehead before the summoned hand that had stolen your glasses gave them back. He looked to Grillby. “Skyfire, would you find us something in three-quarter time? I think a waltz would be the easiest place to start.” Grillby nodded and went hunting through the jukebox’s song list while Gaster turned his attention back to you. “Now, left hand on my shoulder, or upper arm if that is more comfortable. Your right hand stays in my left, while my right hand goes around your back,” Gaster instructed, guiding you into position.

((needs events))

Gaster sent you out in a spin, and you found yourself laughing along with him. Your anxiety and stress were simply gone. You felt free and pretty and…and elegant. You were dancing!He brought you back and pulled you close, leading you through a few more steps before dipping you. He had turned you just right so you could see Grillby when he tipped you back. The elemental gave a little cheer, clapping his hands before holding them close to his chest as he practically vibrated with happiness, his flames a beautiful yellow.

Gaster brought you back up, bright, fuzzy eyelights meeting yours just as your vision blurred. For the second time that evening, a summoned hand stole away your glasses as he pulled you close, cradling your head to his chest as your tears soaked into his sweater. You sobbed, clinging to him as though he might suddenly abandon you. “It’s alright, starshine. I have you,” he cooed, tightening his grip on you.

Heat pressed against your back as Grillby put his arms around you and Gaster both, trapping you between their bodies. “We’re here, sweet spark. Everything’s okay,” he murmured, kissing the back of your neck.

“I-I’m s-sorry! I’m s-so sorry! Wh-when did – I-I can’t –” you mewled only to be shushed by them both.

“You are not in trouble. Let it out,” Gaster soothed, rhythmically petting your head.

“We aren’t going anywhere,” Grillby promised, kissing your neck again.

You took several heaving gasps, trying to get the tears under control, but it didn’t do much other than make you feel light headed as well. “I-I don’t under–I-I’m happy, I am, why am I crying? Why can’t I stop?! I-I feel…f-feel…I-I can’t –”

“Glad, sad, mad, or bad?” Grillby asked suddenly.

“What?” Gaster asked, completely baffled.

“Later,” Grillby waved Gaster’s question away. “Sweet spark, look at me. Look at me.” It was hard to pull yourself away from Gaster’s chest, wanting to stay small and hidden, but at the elemental’s firm tone you managed to twist around to look at him. Dull orange burned a little brighter. “There you are…Do you feel glad, sad, mad, or bad?” He had to repeat the question once more before the words finally got through to you.

“G-glad. I-I got to dance w-with someone who loved me,” you stuttered. You swallowed hard. “And…and I’m sad that…it t-took so long t-to do it. A-and…” Your lips curled into a snarl. “M-mad that m-my…that he made me f-feel like I couldn’t…” The grimace fell away as quickly as it had arrived. “A-a-and bad that I-I’m still letting myself b-be controlled by th-the past...”

A cool hand brushed away your tears. Startled by the contact, you looked back up at the tall skeletal Monster. “All perfectly valid things to feel,” Gaster said softly.

Shame came to the forefront of your mind. “It’s been more than a year since he left, and I’m still letting him control me…I-I thought I was doing better…I thought I had moved on…”

“It is hard to unlearn things you have been taught to believe. You may have been separated from him for over a year now, but you were with him for six before that and engaged. He was important enough to you that you were going to spend your life with him. Of course the things he told you are going to linger,” he answered, curling down to kiss you. “You have been doing better, starshine. You haven’t been set off by any of your old triggers for several months now. When something small cropped up, you were able to work through it on your own. And for the big ones, like this? You have let us help you with them. As with any sort of pain, recovery takes time, and you are going to have set backs. You work through them, you learn, and you heal. If anyone here knows that, it’s me.”

He gave you a sad smile, which you returned weakly, knowing full well the twists his own ‘recovery’ had taken, and that they likely weren’t over with, either. You stood on your toes to kiss him (which he still had to lean down to meet, the frickin’ tree). “Thank you…a-and you’re right.”

“I always am,” he teased, taking your hands in his and squeezing them.

Grillby rested his chin on your shoulder. “I’m sorry I didn’t catch this sooner, sweet spark. I thought your aversion to dancing was simply due to self-consciousness or disinterest. In both cases, I didn’t think pushing the matter would be useful. I didn’t realize the problem ran deeper than that.”

“Don’t be sorry. I-I wasn’t exactly sharing anything with you, either.”

“Hmm…Why didn’t you tell me? We could’ve been dancing all this time.”

You stiffened. “I-I’m sorry, I-I-I should’ve known better,” you stammered, anxiety rising again.

“Shh-shhh, I’m not scolding you. I’m not angry, or even disappointed. I want to understand why you felt you had to hide this.”

“I-I…I was scared you’d turn me down, too,” you admitted.

“When have I ever turned down something you’ve wanted to try?” he asked, nuzzling you.

You sniffled, pressing your cheek harder against his. “I-I know…I don’t…I-I don’t know why I thought you might with this…Besides, i-it just…it wasn’t important enough to ask…”

You felt his jaw tighten, and you realized there was the echo of an old struggle in those words. “Was it that, or was it because you didn’t think you were important enough to ask?”

Sighing, you leaned your weight back against him. “You’re…not entirely wrong. Everything…everything with you was – is – so different from what I was used to. It was…amazing to feel listened to, and feel thought about and appreciated, and I was afraid of messing that up by asking something…something that you might think was dumb, or be told the same thing again a-and just have…have something he told me get confirmed by you.” You took a breath, closing your eyes. “A-and if he was right about something as insignificant as dancing, then he might be right about the other things he told me, more important things, things that…” Your voice quivered. “…that would make me unworthy of you. Th-things that might make you decide to leave. And as our relationship grew, and then Gaster got added in, I just…buried the desire to dance and forgot about it because it wasn’t important enough to wreck things over.”

“But dancing was important to you. And it would have been important to me as well, because you are important to me,” the elemental said. “I wish…I do wish you weren’t so worried about what I’d think if you asked me things, but I also understand the fear. You were told to repress your wants and feelings or be judged for them for so long. I understand how those thoughts can get ingrained in your mind.”

You hummed in agreement. “I-I’m sorry that I still have stuff to work through.”

He kissed your temple. “But you are working through them, just like Gaster said. That’s the most important thing. But if you really feel you need to make it up to me, you can give me this next dance.”

(needs events)

“You’re a natural! A few more lessons and we could go to a dance hall!” Gaster called.

You whirled to face him. “Oh, please, no!” you squeaked in horror. Both Monsters burst out laughing.

#wip #my writing #undertale #unfinished #grillby x reader #gaster x reader #grillster

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batmanego · 1 year ago

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Re: Your post on struggling students - I don't want to assume what your experiences are but I am curious how you might critique or change special education specifically from your perspective. Asked as someone working in Special Ed studying for my certifications in ASD and emotional impairment.

Bonus points if your answer is actionable and not just a call for more resources/manpower. We know and I think in most settings even gen ed teachers are spread thin while by and large not having to worry about stuff like IEPs

while your tone in the last paragraph makes me think this is an over-defensive educator trying to defend the profession, i'll attempt to answer in good faith.

i wasn't a special ed student, nor did i ever say i was. in fact, my post was not even about just special education. it was more broadly about the abuses in the school system in general, and the isolation i and others have experienced for having non-typical high school experiences.

for the last five years, i've attended an alternative high school aimed primarily at disabled kids/kids with behavioral issues (a venn diagram with a lot of overlap, in my experience) -- essentially anyone who can't learn or function in a "normal" school environment. my experiences in a school aimed at and primarily populated by disabled students doesn't qualify me to talk about special education as a whole -- please take my thoughts on the matter with a grain of salt and ask people who were in special education and are willing to talk about it.

from what i've gathered, though, a major problem with special education is the isolation students experience from their peers. this is due to a number of factors (physical separation being one), and is made worse by the fact that special ed kids are looked down upon and ostracized by their peers. that's not... necessarily a fault of the educators, though i do think it should be the responsibility of parents and other adults in childrens' lives to educate them on the importance of kindness and respect towards disabled people.

there's also the problem of institutional abuse. sped kids are often abused by their teachers and are not believed and have little recourse. this is a problem in all education systems, but is often baked into special ed programs. i can't speak too much about this because, again, i am not in special ed. i have never been in special ed. i have friends who have been in special ed, and i am in a school primarily targeted at disabled/"difficult" students, but that is not a substitute for experience.

if any of my mutuals/followers with special education experience would like to chime in, please do! i'm not an expert and i love to learn.

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mermaidlighthouse · 2 years ago

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This is the only time I will directly engage in the discourse around Izzy.

I would like to propose a thought experiment. Are your perceptions of Izzy OR Ed and/or their relationship based SOLELY on canon (what we ACTUALLY see/hear on screen) or have you placed your assumptions of the relationship between them on that interpretation? What I mean to say is, did you decide that one of them was the instigator or the victim of the first blush of toxicity in their relationship? Did you decide that what we do actually see makes one or the other "worse"? Did you then extrapolate an opinion of either character (both?) based on that?

I ask because of course you did, that’s the nature of engaging with media, and because while we know they have a long history (years) canonically, there is no way for ANYONE in fandom to know how their relationship began or progressed. However, when we choose to base our assumptions on tropes whether they are of the biopic manager OR the oppressed second-in-command of the lunatic OR the spurned ex OR unrequited romantic love OR mentor/mentee or boss/employee power imbalance OR ANY trope it places a burden on the characters (BOTH Ed and Izzy) that the show does NOT address. This is headcanon and is perfectly fine (great even) but does not make it canon. The fact that many tropes could have viability is highly significant - it shows their relationship canonically is complicated.

For every "I egged him on for years even though I knew you'd outgrown him..." there's an "I need you here." For every "that's another toe" there's a "you've still got it." For every, I'm not actually going to tell you I have had a plan to get us out of this mess, that I technically got us into, this entire time because I'd rather watch you get angry and frustrated about not having a plan for surviving there's an "I should have let the English kill you". They both fed each other, impeded each other, hurt each other, they are tangled together (I mean this in an entirely platonic sense and why I keep saying Izzy functions narratively as an extension of Ed - and because like it or not Ed is the co-lead of the show - he matters more narratively).

At this point, we have the bare minimum of knowledge of their combined past and only TWO actual flashbacks of Ed BEFORE Izzy. We don’t know the dynamics of their past interactions/relationship. We don’t know how/WHY they have changed together and separately over this LONG ass time period. We don’t know the power fluctuations or lack thereof. It’s all whatever YOU perceive.

I am not saying that any interpretation or perception is better or worse than any other.

I only ask that there be more nuance than X bad.

There are literally only 2 characters that I would classify as one-dimensional (Ricky and Nigel) EVERY other named character has more depth and motivations and it’s a disservice to the writers/creators/actors to flatten their characters because you don’t like an action they took/decision they made (even John Bartholomew is given more than a single note).

In canon, BOTH Ed and Izzy are toxic to each other, that does not absolve either of their actions, but I will absolutely NOT engage in misery olympics. Attempting to litigate what constitutes as "more abusive" or "more toxic" is actually a disgusting approach to abuse and toxicity. You don't assign points to people's pain to determine that any party is better or worse off. This is especially the case because YOU DON’T KNOW what their past is; you have your interpretation and that’s fine but that does not condemn or absolve EITHER character.

You don’t HAVE to like either of them or change your opinion of them. That’s not the point of this…the point is that EACH person in fandom is going to bring their unique perspective (which includes experiences, privileges, prejudices, and biases) and that means NO interpretation is the “correct” one. That’s the beauty of it.

Fandom does not get to dictate to each other how to interpret a character but I would ask that we have a bit of maturity in allowing all the characters to have nuance and allow everyone their own perspective. Being critical of an aspect of a character doesn’t have to mean condemning them in their entirety.

This is not a justification to allow racism, misandry, classism, homophobia, ableism, misogyny, etc. to cloud your interpretations (those should be called out and if you can't or won't engage with how your version seems to stem from a privileged perspective then nothing I say is going to matter anyway).

As a side note, if you are willing to absolve one character of their actions because “It’s pirates Carol, of course they kill people” OR “it's called drama and creating tension” then you have NO leg to stand on in not giving that grace to ALL CHARACTERS.

The last thing I will say and I say it with love and compassion is this: no matter what you may or may not identify with in the show, this wasn’t created with you specifically in mind. As much as there are things that feel universal in all marginalized spaces, that doesn’t make it so. Please don’t invalidate other people’s experiences because they don’t conform with yours. The writers/creators/actors come from many marginalized groups and intersectionalities but they are also creating a show that has to have general appeal, they are not beholden to fandom ideas and spaces, we are not the ONLY audience. And being critical of your fave is not a condemnation of you.

#the fact that at least HALF of this also applies to how people interpret Stede’s actions is very depressing tbh #blackbeard #ed teach #edward teach #izzy hands #the new unicorn #our flag means death #ofmd season 2 #ofmd #ofmd s2

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piperjistic · 1 year ago

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Unknown force

HMS Piranha

Log #345

“This is the relaunched Zero Hannu model. We had a successful launch and on course to the Dali sector. This is the official HMS Piranha log. Dated XX.XX.XX23. All systems functional, all crew mates accounted for and in healthy condition. All supplies accounted for and routes have been set. Finally this ship is back to working order and can go back to duties. Captain Jarv.”

Canis taps enter again, another page flickers.

Each page had a date, it range to maybe a year or two. This is good, no it’s more than good— it’s great.

Canis was surprised by the machine still being intact. It would of been impossible to truly tell the age of the database if it wasn’t functioning unless there was another technological advancement. And that definitely isn’t happening for a long time. But from the looks of it, it can’t be too long ago since it seems partly compatible with the ships power supply. After plugging up the adapter cube and switching the cables on, it crackled to life, ready to be explored.

“XX.XX.XX23. System report, stable after entering Dali sector. Scanners picked up meteor wave and personnel responded accordingly. Correlates with incident report #220. Click number for details. No serious injuries, just scratches on a few personnel and ship misalignment. Navigator core and inner DIV %100 function and realigned ship. YTP accidentally sent out signal, but was quickly cancelled. Power core….”

She taps out of log. Orion’s sake, Canis didn’t believe there would be even a few system reports and incident reports. Usually those are saved separately, not in-tandem. Maybe the brand could be found from the logs, and if that didn’t work then it could be id-ed through the Captain Database, she have a name now. Captain Jarv, right?

“Captain Jarv. Captain of HMS Piranha. Served 15 years. Disappeared on the HMS Piranha. Known for his loyalty to his crew, birthday parties, and inability to complete any Hidden Picture Puzzles.”

Canis chuckled, feeling a smile creeping on her lips and new energy spreading to her finger tips, itching to click more. She couldn’t help it. To find a lost log, is rare, omega rare. Space destroys what isn’t contained and perfectly engineered without warning or even a peep. And to find logs intact, it’s exhilarating.

She sighs and turns back towards the decrepit monitor. Canis can’t lie, she is a bit of a history buff and loves to find tidbits of the past lives. Like the Jello age of Armica, it was a great period of combining cultures with any destruction of cultural property. It’s mostly goes under the radar but the book she was crafting could maybe change that. Anyway— back to the logs.

“XX.XX.XX24. Happy Birthday Kati! Today is Crewmate Kati E’s Birthday. Which was celebrated in the main hall blasted in glitter. Better than the fxckin white paste. We got her choco-berry, it’s her favorite and made sure she got her padded to her liking. She LOVE IT. Invited over captains and crews, made sure there was enough gas for water conversion and wine! Left at least two people sober. P.S. I wasn’t one of them. And I don’t know if anyone was left a virgin too. Captain Juicy Jarv.”

Ah!~ With these that tell details of a crew, what their lives were life, what their goals was, what technology did they have, how they acted. Even if it’s a sliver of it. It’s worth it.

Though the smile flatters, the captain frowns grimly. It’s a shame the ship went missing though… Hmm… Maybe hints of the cause of the disappearance could be at the end of the logs. She rapidly clicks, tap and scrolls, finding a few entries. The screen flickers, as if the information within these files is too precious to bear.

“XX.XX.XX24. Scanners picked up something. Small, invisible to the naked eye of space, involves gravitational pull to the sub dwarf in Dali sector. Faint signals discovered lead to it. This could be responsible for assignment change. Collection team headed out and was able to collect it. Research team is brimming with excitement with new specimen. Seems dormant. Logs of research will be sent to HMS institute as requested. Processed pictures has been sent to HMS map division as well. Soon we’ll reach target bound and will return. Captain Jarv.”

So this was a research shuttle. Never heard of any research involving this sector. But it makes sense, Canis nodding to the idea after giving it some thought. Lots of meteors came from that area, valuable ore. The ore isn’t only native to this sector but is fairly supplied. Maybe it connects to another sector with transmission. This sector really hasn’t been explored now that she thought about it. Ships tend to travel its outskirts. Occasionally, some travel its mid-outskirts outskirts, never the center. But if they had the tech, then it makes sense for institutions to finally start marking the territory. She double taps on the link, a picture popping up in its place.

“Incident Report. XX.XX.XX24. Injured Party: Steph Cuevas, Crewmate Saturn. ID# 1561317. Area of accident: Converse Hall; near bio tank. Incident Description: Saturn was attacked by escaped asset from the bio tank in Converse Hall as she was passing by. Witnessed by CM Dill & Morar. Action Taken/Treatment Administered: Saturn was taken to medbay for treatment. Hazard crew was deployed in search of escaped asset & to discard remenents of asset on/around Saturn. Follow up Action: Saturn and their health will be monitored for 20 cycles to ensure safety & health. They will be isolated for stmtoms for 5 cyxles. Rements of asset found near airlock & was contained seems is less active/responsive. Maybe looking for food? Starving? Will update more reports as time goes on. Signed by CM Neal. SHARED.”

She taps to the end. Her heart drops. A week. The last record is a week after the incident.

“SOS again. Half the ship destroyed, teared through. Escape pods are on other side of ship. Half the cree dead. I failed them. But I can still protect the rest. I’ll be the distraction while they get their suits and into the pods. Captain Jarv.

He’s gone. It won we lost and now it’ll kill the rest of us fuck Fuck FUCK FUCK Please someone anyone one please pleas e please plew ae”

Canis taps the key again, this time the escape key. It was too much. She massages her temple with her fingers. Dear Hydra. What the Orion did they find and how did it tear apart the ship? Fuck, where is it now?

“This is SC Canis, proceed with caution. Alert future ships about the Adaliah sector and near by sectors. Notify the nearest capital. Better safe than sorry, will clarify… later.”

She pushes away from the dashboard, double tapping her badge’s comm off and strides out, towards the cafe hall. Hopefully there’s coffee ready for her. She’s going to need it.

Spaceships have been disappearing in deep space for unknown reasons. One day the log of one lost ship is found.

#write bite

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thegraveyardshifts · 4 months ago

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[JODIE-TURNER SMITH, SHIFTER, CIS-FEMALE, 38, SHE/HER] CLEO ‘C.C’ CLÉMENT called into 333FM. They were a little bit -BLUNT & -DISTANT at first, but we kept them talking until they got a little +PROTECTIVE & +HONEST. They said they’ve been working as HOSTESS OF CAFE DU MONDE / CLINIC RUNNER, and thinking about aligning themselves with NO FACTION since they have been living in New Orleans for THIRTY-EIGHT YEARS, and from what we can tell, they still give off huge CATS EYES THAT REFLECT LIGHT, A STEADY HAND, THE COMFORTING SMELL OF GRANDMA’S COOKING vibes

BASICS

Name: Cleo ‘C.C’ Clément

Age: 38

Species: Shifter - Barbary Lioness & a Cheetah

Powers: Ability to partial and fully shift into a cheetah & larger than usual Barbary lioness - a cheetah half shift gives C.C more speed than usual. Due to her lineage, Cleo also possesses the ability to heal others of wounds and sickness though, it takes a lot out of her the larger the issue.

Deity: N.A - Cleo is affiliated only with the lion goddess of war, disease and healing, Sekhmet.

Gender, Pronouns, Sexual & Romantic identities: Cisfemale, She/Her, Heteromantic, Heterosexual.

Residence / Years: 38 years.

Affiliation / Years: N/A

Job / Workplace: Hostess at Cafe du Monde, owner and sole employee at The Clinic.

Relationship status: Single

Positive traits: Protective, Honest, Observant

Negative traits: Blunt, Distant, Controlling

BIO

death tw

Cleo is one of 4 of the Clément siblings, being the oldest girl and second-oldest of them all. She’s the only one that isn’t a witch, a source of quiet shame for her and quite a loud one for her mother. The Clément’s are well-established and well known witches, particularly within the voodoo community - Cleo’s mother, Rochelle, comes from a long line of priestesses able to communicate with the Loa. Mainly, the family provided community relief in the forms of healing, protection and helping divine what the spirits have in store for people.

What she can do, however, is shift into a Cheetah, something from her father’s side. His Grandma could turn into a bat, he told her, and her grandfather became a snake. It happened sometimes, and didn’t make Cleo any less impressive than her siblings, so he said, even if she didn’t believe such a thing.

Excluded from a lot of the same activities, Cleo had a lonely childhood, even if her siblings tried to keep her company. It was clear that her difference wasn’t celebrated as much among her family, and without witchcraft, was functionally useless. Cleo decided young that she could still help, just not in the traditional way of her family. Thus, she committed herself to becoming a doctor.

Cleo grew, as they all did, life somewhat uneventful, though the distance between herself and her brothers and sister widened. She grew jealous, moved out young and attended a local university with hopes to work at the nearby trauma centre. To support herself, Cleo got herself a few jobs and didn’t really meet with her siblings or parents, allowing them to do what they wanted.

She knew of the gang influence with New Orleans but didn't know it’d got its claws into each of her siblings. Cleo didn’t care much for the divisions it brought, knowing that if these gods were real, they would only seek to further their own goals - everybody else was just pawns in their game. It came to a head when working a shift, a crash call came through when Cleo was in ED. He was D.O.A and Cleo was asked to attend when calling the time of death. Walking into the room, she saw the body of her youngest brother.

This changed Cleo, changed her whole family. Unable to cope, she resigned from her position at the hospital and basically disappeared for a few months, struggling with the loss of her brother. It was while at the lowest part of her life the lion-headed goddess appeared to Cleo, the same way she had done to her siblings when their magic manifested. Sekhmet bestowed upon Cleo the ability to transform into a lion and shared with her the power to heal.

This interaction did inspire Cleo to try and do better. Not that it didn’t pull her fully out of a depressive funk but, it did make her begin to put more effort in with her remaining brother and sister and family in general. Cleo never went to work back at the hospital, instead renting out a space and opening what’s known as The Clinic, a space for injured gang members to get patched up quickly without the need to go to ED and get local police involved. She’s also taken up a job at Cafe Du Monde and continues to try to carve out a life for herself.

OTHER

Imagine your a descendent of a goddess and she appears to your siblings the moment their magic manifests and gives them like the power over disease and like a cool ability to just know how any weapon is meant to be used on top of being witches and it’s only in the deepest throws of depression she appears to literally go ‘hey :) dont kill yourself :)’

The clinic isn’t free btw she’s going to bill you or bill the head of the gang you’re in.

Likes a nice night out with a bit of rum punch and a bit of dancing.

The clinic is also neutral territory and lbr she can turn into a big ass lioness if you mess around so.

Cheetah’s are anxious animals and sometimes are paired with labrador’s in captivity to calm them down. Make of this information what you will.

The only OC of mine who’s actually a good cook. Feeds her siblings, her neighbours, her friends. Always a pot of something on the stove, or in the oven, or leftovers in the fridge.

Beats herself up often about her brother's death.

Keeps in touch with people she used to work with at the hospital.

Fully qualified doctor w/ an ED speciality, thankyou very much.

Whizzes around the clinic on a chair with wheels a la every quirky science anime character.

Thinks you’re dumb if you’re in a gang, and will tell you while she’s saving your ass.

God is a woman, it’s Cleo.

She speaks Louisiana french.

Yellow eyes when she’s mad.

If ur part of the voodoo practicing witch community within Nola the Clements are like well known.

#frxfm.intro

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clatterbane · 4 months ago

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This sort of thing has kinda been getting to me too lately. Along with the rest of that Midlife Crisis: Special Disabled Edition bundle.

I mean, at this point? There isn't really one single thing going on that you could really point at and say, "yep, that'll keep you from being conventionally Productive".

Meanwhile, I keep getting frustrated at how basically any medical professional I end up having to deal with basically goes, "My, aren't you a COMPLEX hot mess? What should we do with you?!"--and acting like it's amazing that i'm moving around at all or even want to. Seriously, they keep acting like I'm 100 years old and holding on by the couple of fingernails that haven't already crumbled away to dust.

Still got strangers acting oddly surprised that I can put my own socks or jacket on, or look at my own foot unassisted--much less pick up the thing I just dropped in the floor, ffs. (Legit recent examples.) When I was in the process of doing the thing until they grabbed my socks away from where I put them and was already reaching for them. I am not even kidding one bit. It's weird as hell, and more than a little condescending.

(Which yeah, if that's how you're actually viewing and dealing with elderly people? I wouldn't particular want to be relying on you as a genuine old person either. What kind of quality of life or autonomy are you thinking is appropriate for an older person to even expect?! Similar to the "don't treat $ADULT like a child" thing. If that's how somebody really thinks it's appropriate to deal with kids, I hope they stay the hell away from actual children for everybody's sake. Nobody needs that shit. Actually respectful help with things anybody needs and wants help with, sure.)

That digression aside, the "complex hot mess" thing is only considering some of the straightforward and really obvious physical stuff. Though the fucking allergies and probably-EDS which barely get considered at all by anyone outside this household are more troublesome most days on that front, anyway.

But yeah, there's also the mixed bag of neuroweirdness that I do not care to discuss with any type of professionals ever again, if I can help it. I did have other unaddressed physical health shit going on at the time, but one rather spectacular burnout was what did actually get me on SSI on the first try 20+ years ago. I didn't know that ever happened without appeals and lawyers, but I got ”lucky”. (And also I apparently scared the fuck out of the assessor they hired, who happened to be someone my mother used to see. Small areas...)

The unaddressed physical garbage certainly helped set the stage for that episode, but yeah it was The 'Tism--still getting called everything but that--which got me disability benefits that I really did need then. I've had at least one more "minor" TBI--and the good old grey matter took another hit from freaking sepsis--since then.

These days, I feel like the physical shit that normies I've never seen before keep getting in such an ableist tizzy over is usually more of a petty background annoyance to consider. I've lived with MUCH worse. (While nobody much seemed to notice or care--excepting my partner.)

At least I'm not anywhere near so fatigued with some insulin and certain vitamins in my system now, or running around in constant distracting-level pain these days. I am physically in MUCH better shape than I was five years ago, and at near-zero risk of dying over even the medium term from anything that is currently going on with my body. Keep me in insulin and prosthetic supplies, and I'll be fine enough. It's still the neuroweirdness that's mainly keeping me from getting shit done on my own itinerary.

These days, alongside the whole "foreigner who can't speak the local language too well yet, and has barely any paid employment history after crashing out of college decades ago" shit enchilada. That'll get you hired ASAP for things that don't require so much self direction or executive function in general.

Yeah, my personal baseline is set a little different from most people without any up-close experience of chronic conditions. I just keep on ticking, because wtf else are you gonna do? It still sort of gangs up together, and has its own complex interactions going. But, there is also plenty of other shit going on that also does not help with "productivity". Maybe I really should cut myself some more slack over getting shit accomplished.

Slack won't help pay any bills, but it'll probably help keep me more functional and flirting less with further serious burnout. I sure as hell wouldn't ride anybody else's case like this. Also wouldn't be surprised if they snapped on anybody who did.

#personal #rambling #chronic illness #a complex hot mess #about covers it #burnout #perfectionism #neuroweirdness

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ojbody · 6 months ago

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:TriggerWarning: TW: Eating Disorders :TriggerWarning: Replies/tags/pings/DM's/Friend Requests/Reactions allowed :white_check_mark: :bell:

|| Mi padre thinks it's cool to tell me how much of a serving I should and shouldn't eat. I don't mind the conversation, or suggestion, though I did ask him in the past not to comment on what I eat, to leave me alone and not micromanage what I do and don't eat and when I am in the kitchen. However, he was yelling and fretting at me, while simultaneously not allowing me to speak or respond. I have asked him not to yell at me in the past as well. But all of this is beside the point. I went to a ED (and other disorders) treatment facility for 8 whole months, a very, expensive, accredited one. The help I got there was amazing. The fact that I eat at all, is amazing. I have had severe EDNOS- psychiatrist believes it's, trauma based OCD or PTSD reaction- so that's why the diagnosis is kind of muddy. But, all in all, it's still very much a serious ED I've had since the age of 10, I think, maybe younger idk. Anyway, at the treatment facility they said, it's okay to eat and feed your body. But we never talked about portion control, or frequency, or even diet/nutrition. But, it was more of an intuitive approach. I have a habit of, repititious eating safe foods- I wasn't aware there was any binging- but perhaps minor at times, due to scarcity and, god knows what else- I don't understand binging- I don't understand, the whole ED tbh. I'm not an informed psychologist lol. But I do know, eating good- not eating, not good. I thought I was doing well, eating. Since I do eat, now. Two or Three times a day typically. When I am hungry, I eat. It's that simple. I try to pick the right things, healthy things, protein, and keep what I do know about nutrition in mind. Yes, at times, I don't do my best- and will fall into 'safe food' or repitious eating. Part of the reason for this is mainly, I don't want to cook around my dad in the kitchen because it's not a safe space to cook in, it's triggering, he yells at me, he micromanages, he talks talks talks- and all the words he says, whether they are meant with well intentions or not, are really damaging, difficult to deal with, and sometimes, come across very much so, the wrong way- or are delivered in a percieved, stressed and hostile tone. No one wants to be yelled or fretted at every time they eat. But because he is an unhealthy parent, and I'm in therapy for this. Or he has, unhealthy behaviors. He, yells at me, essentially. About, my eating. My cooking. Micromanaging. Worrying. Commanding, Demanding, Belittling. As if that's going to help. It's good to be in reality, to have an outside observer who is… a reliable, safe, support to, inform me if I am off and don't, recognize it- or something, you know. But in my opinion… all I was doing was making a bowl of oatmeal. He suggested, that because he is a grown man- (300 pounds, he over eats- notoriously, struggles with food/sugar addictions emotional/stress eating etc.) But yeah he suggested, because he is a grown man and when he makes oatmeal, he only eats 1/2 a cup- and that is enough of a serving to eat in one sitting. I've always made a full 1 cup. I'm talking years here. I've, always, consistently eaten it that way. Even, when I was a child, and making my breakfast from the little pack oatmeals, in the microwave- I figured out that making 2-4 bags was better than just 1- because I was freakin hungry, and for my metabolism, I needed that much food to get through the day to the next, point of, needing food again. Do I have a possible thyroid, metabolic absorption/processing gut issues, and maybe a too fast metabolism- or something- maybe, I don't know. All I know is that I am often significantly starving despite doing my best to eat, balanced nutrition, frequently enough, in normal portions. I've seen professional nutritionists, dietitions, endocrinologist/functional medicine doctor- with extensive blood testing, to try and explain my severe deficiencies- I have quite a few. As to why- it would require further testing and such to try to

#a cup of oatmeal

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janewaykove · 1 year ago

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Hey! Please look into how AI datasets are formed. These programs are only able to function due to large scale intellectual property theft that would be illegal for any other purpose. AI is an amazing concept and we can do lots of great things with it, even (theoretically) with generative AI if someone were to build a dataset ethically with knowledge, consent and compensation of the authors whose works are being used (there aren't any currently, thus theoretically. the reason there aren't any is if you did it, it would no longer be profitable) but please be aware that the currently available generative AIs (not just text btw, visual ones too) exploit writers/artists, especially smaller ones who don't have the means to fight back. The only way we can disincentivize this theft is by ending demand for the product

If you see parts of anything in the AI stories I post(ed) that you think are from someone's story, please do let me know. But as far as I can see, it's just common phrases and generalized things. Aside from the names I put in and the dozen specific prompts (which often included dialogue), basically all that's left is to put it into place and fill in stuff like everyday phrases (ie "she walked down the hallway and turned the corner"). And of course the sex bits that I prompt. If there's suddenly a paragraph in there from Moby Dick, that'd be a bit questionable!

Now if I posted something from some original story/character/world, I could totally see the issue with it being ripped off. But I wouldn't post that. As it is, I have to be specific about a lot of it. I mean, it will know Captain Janeway should be on Voyager. But if I make the character be Kove, it tends not to know who the hell she is and makes her a tall, skinny blonde who works as a waitress. There's only so many ways to write a sex scene so unless someone owns "she reached between her legs and touched herself," or whatever, it's probably not stealing that from anyone, lol!

As for photos, I've seen how those work and don't care for them. I see a lot of images that look just like original images so I know the generator is just taking original images and basing "art" off those. And not even well, I might add (oh those extra fingers it likes to add).

Hope I'm not sounding like an ignorant jerk here. I know a lot of people don't like AI, so I note when I've used a generator. But, as I've said a while back, my brain isn't what it was 25 years ago and some times I just wanna read a weird story with a weird ship. When they come out kinda good (even though they still need tweaking), I share them. What I've seen is general/common stuff in between my specific prompts, otherwise I wouldn't mess with it.

Also, if fanfiction is technically illegal anyway, the only people to be compensated for AI programs using their work would have to be people who write original stories. Those would be easiest to find in AI generators so that'd be a plus, at least. If AI generates stuff based on fandoms, it's harder to figure which is stolen. But if you've got AI talking about Zippooloo Square on the planet Deengu with its 3 purple-pink moons, that'd be an obvious steal. If it's talking about Voyager being in space, that's more general and common knowledge (unless it mentions a quirky addition we know someone else made up just for their own version) that most of the fandom has wrote somewhere or other.

Edit: I'm not saying AI doesn't steal, just to be clear. I read about it stealing works, or people using it to continue an original story. I certainly don't approve of that! But the little stories I do are just AI filler stuff in the specific prompts I give it. So just "he said/she said" and "walked down the street and went into the cafe" stuff. Not chunks of storyline from already written stories.

#ask #anonymous #if this turns into a big hate war #i will remember why i keep anons off #this reply was 2x longer but i rewrote it #then it came out long anyway lol #i hate conflict and it stresses me so much #ms and stress do not mix

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shawnjacksonsbs · 1 year ago

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Part- a, earlier

Cogito, ergo sum 8-8-21

“I think therefore I am” - René Descartes

Everything(s) that we do is just that. Literally a thing, that we do. It's a way of passing through our very short time here. From painting the Sacellum Sixtinum, to coaching little league baseball, to staying up all night smoking crack in a basement surrounded by people who correlate the word struggle to mean a way outside of themselves, but it's more about the -what- we do rather than the -what for-. Which, for those of us lucky enough to want more out of this life, perhaps it comes about at a later time as an internal journey, like it did for me, and millions of other . . . soul searchers. Soul searchers? Yeah, soul searchers.

I am because I can see that I am?

Yes, but no. I am because it’s obvious that I can see that I am now, but I am . . .even before I knew that I was too.

I read somewhere that the main function of our physical being is to haul the mind from appointment to appointment, that from the neck down we are just a means to an end. True? I mean maybe, even for me to see it.

The heart that I so passionately write about using and/or trying to use better, isn’t actually in your chest by the way. It's in your mind. The ability to reason, the ability to feel, etc, is from the organ inside your head.

The beat in your chest, which is absolutely important too, that implies purpose, is hyperbole, in my opinion. The only heart I'm concerned with when writing and living as an example of how to be kind, why to love my neighbors, and to objectify my gratitude, is the one found upstairs behind my eyes. Trust and believe that.

We can only love life in direct correlation to our level of perception, and that ability to reason that I always talk about. The heart and the mind are one and the same my friends. Parts, or pieces of the whole.

1 part heart + 1 part mind = 1 whole Shawn

I think that all those years I spent lost, and the more recent years that I've been trying to decipher ways of aligning them {the heart and mind}, were just to realize now that I was looking at them all wrong. They are not separate, except maybe as ideas. That realization is how I blended them together. It's a process. I still have a ways to go of course, but . . . It's why I believe it gets easier for me all the time. Because I know the connection between thinking and feeling is the source of our light. It's too important. And the level of brightness, or dimness, is up to us. Up to us to better understand that connection for ourselves. Patiently waiting for others to arrive is another lesson in, and of itself.

This learn•ed move, means that even though you couldn't see it before, because actions speak louder than words, that that feeling inside of me that has always been there, has, in fact, been me the whole time. Granted I had to change me but still . . . me nonetheless.

I am sorry, so very sorry for all those I hurt before, and as unfortunate as it is, the pain of me hurting over the pain of hurting others brought me to this point right here, limiting those deathbed regrets, and living life for love and hoping each day my journey helps me discover and uncover new and exciting things, mostly within, but hey . . .how I feel inside is why I am to you. That’s a thing to behold too. Lol Why I am to you, or why you are to me. Life should be lived as meaningfully as possible. Don’t you think?

Reconciling the heart and mind, is even more important than say that of the mind and body. I'd argue that without the former the latter isn’t completely available.

This reconciling holds actual resources used to differentiate between feelings, and how we feel about everything to include other human beings. Don't waste your resources on mindless, empty bullshit. Remember that life is a limited time offer. Compassion and empathy, for example, would seem like all heart, but without our ability to reason and judge, how would we know it means to care right? Its both. One compliments the other, in almost all of the most important aspects of our lives as humans.

The collective human race has such low expectations of one another these days that it's hard to evolve as a whole though. Individually we stunt growth as well because alone we are limited. We need others. Plain and simple. When we start to do better by each other, we'll be able to start holding higher expectations. Not the other way around. Better standards should be earned, like respect. Right? We show respect first then expect respect in return. Do better for better. We share this little planet and our time here with so many people. Why then is there so much hate? It’s crazy right?

If more people understood, and cared, what others feel, and not just about themselves. . . oh the changes that could happen. So, let’s continue to be kind, or at the very least be civil, and share your love and your laughter with the world as a whole. Then, together, we can light the way for more.

Until next week;

“I feel therefore. . . I really am” – Shawn Jackson

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rickmoya · 1 year ago

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the books I read in 2023

Welp, time to finally face this post and submit it. I'm kind of embarrassed because I am so bad at reading anymore. No explanation, no excuses. I used to read twice this many books as a matter of course, and now I ... like, don't. My TBR barely budged ... I cleared some stuff out thanks to summer camp, but then I got new stuff to fill it back up.

I don't know. Maybe one day I'll start reading again. Not today, though, probably. This year's list has two books on it so far, both of which I'm maybe a quarter into. Ugh.

Wired Style, Constance Hale & Jessie Scanlon

Once Upon Atari, Howard Scott Warshaw

Dragonwatch: Master of the Phantom Isle, Brandon Mull

The Illustrated Al, ed. Josh Bernstein

Fucking Apostrophes, Simon Griffin

Jazz in the Bittersweet Blues of Life, Wynton Marsalis and Carl Vigeland

The Kitchen Detective, Christopher Kimball

Decoding Boys, Cara Natterson

The Maxx (1-35, complete), Sam Kieth (1)

Bury My Heart at Chuck E. Cheese’s, Tiffany Midge

Barely Functional Adult, Meichi Ng

What If? 2, Randall Munroe

8 Simple Rules for Dating My Teenage Daughter, W. Bruce Cameron (2)

Over Sea, Under Stone, Susan Cooper

This Mournable Body, Tsitsi Dangarembga

The Goldfinch, Donna Tartt

The Rapture of the Nerds, Cory Doctorow and Charles Stross

The New Hacker’s Dictionary, ed. Eric S. Raymond (3)

All You Need is Kill, Hiroshi Sakurazaka

Wind/Pinball, Haruki Murakami

Disappearing Earth, Julia Phillips

Where Nobody Knows Your Name, John Feinstein

We Should Hang Out Sometime, Josh Sundquist

Watchmen, Alan Moore and Dave Gibbons

The Philosophy of Modern Song, Bob Dylan

Guardians of the Galaxy: The Complete Collection, Dan Abnett & Andy Lanning, et al.

The Dark is Rising, Susan Cooper (4)

Banana Ball, Jesse Cole

A Love Supreme: The Story of John Coltrane’s Signature Album, Ashley Kahn

Free Lunch, Rex Ogle (5)

Greenwitch, Susan Cooper (6)

The Shepherd, the Angel, and Walter the Christmas Miracle Dog, Dave Barry

italics: read it before bold: read it to my kid in bed struck: unfinished

I’d read the first ten or so issues of this before, out of interest because I watched the animated series on MTV. This is the first time all the way through and I didn’t realize it was so dark and triggering.

I read this one when mine was a toddler, and remembered it being pretty patriarchal and victorian. Thought maybe it would hit different now that she’s actually teenaged, and ... like, it did! it’s even worse! Absolutely zero of this shit fits a kid who is not 100% straight and searching. I got through four essays and took it back to the library.

I got up through the Bs and then I LOST MY COPY.

The more I read of this, the more I realized I maybe only read the first couple chapters. Still keeping the italics (making up for claiming I never previously read The Maxx).

I subbed a middle school reading class where this was the text. Ended up reading the whole thing across the day.

This could be the last new book I ever read to my own children. We generally don't read to sleep during holiday breaks, instead allowing them to fall asleep in front of a TV. But when school restarted, my youngest (officially a teenager) didn't want me to read to him at bedtime anymore. The end of an era. I may have cried a little bit. I expect the Dave Barry on Christmas Eve tradition to continue at least another year (my oldest likes it and specifically requested it again), but maybe no more new ones.

#books i read

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penrose42 · 2 years ago

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So I had a dream last night that sparked a memory and train of thought so get ready for your very first long post, Tumblr.

Firstly, the dream: It started off as me exiting my old high school, I have had many a dream there so nothing too out of the ordinary, but before I left I had stopped off at the special ed class for some reason and had gotten to talking to a teacher, who had recognized me even though it was clear I had no idea who he was. He had recognized me, somehow, through a calendar from 1999 featuring autistic kids and four year old me was the cover for every month. I was shocked as this was the first I had ever heard of this, setting aside why this guy had a random outdated calendar that just so happened to have me on it because dream logic. I became furious as to why my parents would agree to me being in such a thing and why they'd openly tell the world that I was autistic when I had no way to give consent to the idea, but then it jumped to my dad telling me that they condoned this because he was proud of me regardless and that no matter who knew and how they treated me, that they loved me and wanted me to know that.

My thoughts:

Firstly to catch people up who don't know me: 1. Yes I am high functioning autistic 2. I was told I was first tested when I was four years old, which would have been 1999 3. Even after waking I do not know the teacher figure. I can't even remember his face now so I doubt it was of any importance. 4. Obviously the calendar doesn't exist. If it did I would assume we would have a copy and it would've shown up sometime. Plus I don't know why a calendar like that showcasing random autistic children would exist in the first place. 5. My dad, who has been deceased for seven years at this point, hasn't really talked to me about my autism or how they felt about it. Yes I recognize there's unresolved issues there and that dream dad was more or less just what my brain wanted him to tell me back when he was alive, but c'est la vie.

Later on I realized that this dream was tied to real life events that happened to me back in high school, and that it reflects in me how I feel today.

High School:

I was a band kid, so I got real chummy with other band kids. You fit in a clique as you do, and I had mine. The juniors and seniors, at least the ones in a particular music group that I was a part of, really seemed to enjoy my presence to the point that I preferred their company to kids my own grade at the end of freshman year. Sophomore year it stayed the same, but obviously sans the seniors from the previous year. Months into my sophomore year and I learn that all the older kids I had come to consider friends with learned that I was autistic, and I began to question the validity of their relationship with me. They hadn't treated anyone else, to my knowledge, the same as they would me, and I can attest I can be an annoying motherfucker at times. Then I would learn that everyone knew from one guy, who coincidentally was friends with my dad on Facebook. This guy I had considered a good friend, we had a good standing and were amicable to each other, however I cannot tell if it came from a place of genuine friendliness or if it was simply a façade of tolerance, like you'd see on any minimum wage worker at any retail store.

Obviously that idea spread to all the older people I knew; Did they really enjoy my presence or did they just tolerate it? Was I adding anything to their day or was I just something they had to go through and would avoid if the option arose? Then there was my dad; He had told me on a myriad of occasions that he loved me, never abused me physically, and while some of his jabs stung, I never got the sense of it coming from a place of disgust or animosity. I think he just didn't know where the boundary was and I was a quiet kid who didn't have a backbone. But I can't help but think. When expecting a kid, which mind you I have never been in the position in, I would imagine that you'd be helpless to dream up the kind of person they would become. What their experiences, which would be totally alien to you and completely unique to them, would ultimately shape them into the thinking agent they would become. What kind of human they'd be. But does anyone ever consider disability? Does anyone ever dream their kid being in a wheelchair? Does anyone ever dream their kid needing leg braces? Does anyone ever dream their kid needing special ed? a tutor? IEP?

Unless you have it yourself, or it runs in either genepool, assuming you're aware, does anyone ever consider their kids being disabled? I would assume that nobody would ever expect their kid being the one who needs wheelchair access, or who'd need a specialized tutor to help them with their dyslexia, or anything of the sort.

So why would my dad ever conceive of his son being the autist who can't make friends and is a total asocialite who'd rather spend their days indoors watching tv instead of making friends and playing around? I can't help but feel that, even now when I am nearing my thirties, and even seven years after he's gone, that deep down he was just the slightest bit disappointed, not in what I've done or who I am, but what I am. That I am not his expectation from when I was in his head. This unease, this unknowing, is without doubt the crux of my whole disquiet.

I now have trust issues with not just the people I know but now everyone. Do they genuinely like me, or am I but an occasional nuisance? Do they pity me and just put on a mask, or does it come from a genuine place of friendship? I think I've lost my ability to tell.

Cognitively I know that being autistic not something to be ashamed of, it's not an impairment of my cognitive ability or anything of the sort, but emotionally it's just hard to lose after you've dealt with this for two decades. When I was a kid I generally didn't like people knowing so that I didn't have to worry about the validity of their company, but since neither parent talked about it with me at all, and me being the spineless quiet kid, I never told them that I didn't like people knowing. Even now I tend not to tell people unless it's relevant, because I just don't know how they'll treat me or what they'll think of me.

I'll be the first to tell you that you shouldn't worry about what people think of you and that you should just do you, but I will confess that I do not practice what I preach. I worry that all that people see when the focus is me is just a blathering retard who just doesn't have a clue. That they'll never invest the time into me to really get to know me, because why bother.

I'm starting to doubt why I'm even bothering to continue at this point. I think I just want this off my chest. If you've made it this far don't bother sending a DM about this post I just want this out and gone.

I will say this though and that's where I think my parents went wrong. They got me tested at four but didn't intentionally tell me anything until I was around twelve, but I learned when I was eight. That's a story for another day I just can't right now. They always let me in to IEP meetings and whatnot but I just assumed everyone went through that. Yeah don't do that. Tell your kids as soon as you can. Explain it to them in language they'll understand. Make them understand. Talk to them directly about it and let them know that there's nothing wrong with them. Let them know they're not a let down or a failure but don't coddle them either. Communicate with them. Just don't let them be me. Don't let them doubt their relationships. Don't let them doubt their trust in you or anyone. There's good people out there, I know it, I know some, but my doubt always creeps in.

#autism #anxitey #dreams #feelings #tw depressing stuff #thoughts #disability

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