#im not not homeless but im less homeless than before this time i get privacy

[tittty-bitty]

Nemuri struts from store to store like an empress gracing her presence on her citizens. Really it was businesses being graced with one of her clients limitless creditcards and her impulse shopping. Who ever invented financial domination was a mastermind.

“Come along darling! Just a few more shops then we can be done!”

“You know Miss Midnight, when you said you needed help with extra curriculars, I didnt think it would make me a pack mule for your personal spending habits.”

“Your still a pillar of peace! It’s just now you have a metal hook for me to hang my shopping bags on.”

She looked over her shoulder to see Yagi struggling with the shopping bags. Yagi isn’t weak by any means, even with out his quirk. She’s seen him spar with Shota plenty of times. Which is totally just two coworkers sparring for exercise Shota claimed, with no sexual tension at all thank you very much. But any one would struggle with that many bags, especially a man with only one lung.

They manage to make it into Gucci with out any lungs popping. Yagi sprawls on one of the ottomans with a poof and start to rub his wrists. She starts to look at the purses and leather belts. Not even glancing at the price tag before adding them to her haul. When she goes back to the waiting section she glances at Yagi. Who is scrolling away on his smartphone. Despite losing over 200 pounds of muscle, he was still an attractive man. Sharp cheek bones, piercing eyes, and such a sweet smile. His handsome features multipled when he gained more confidence in this form. Everyone could see after the truth was out about Allmight that he wasn’t comfortable in his true form. Scared to talk to other adults, skiddish and horrifically terrified of making mistakes. Not including how he obviously avoided reflections and wore only baggy outfits. But a year after his retirement and him making friendships with his colleges at UA, he finally started accepting himself and it’s amazing on the amount of progress he’s had. She’s so proud of her coworkers, especially her boys to make Allmight’s retirement less lonely. Even if one is especially passionate with the task but wants to be an edgy teenager about it.

Despite the progress the man made, he still didn’t know how to dress himself for shit. He may of got himself a few outfits that arnt 5X but he still loves to drown in his clothing. If she has to be assaulted with that damn yellow suit one more year she’s going to ask young Todoroki to set it on fire for extra credit.

If only he would wear clothes that actually fit him. Show off his long neck, his collar bones, long legs narrow waist, she could go on and on about why Yagi needs a new wardrobe. She needed to show the world how Yagi is still a fine ass man. She has checked him out countless times to be confident with that claim. There was one day where he had to actually put on pants that fit him way too well after a coffee spill and had to borrow some pants from mic. She doesn’t understand how a man so skinny could still have an ass. Nothing to go over the moon about but it was so cute, so perky for a man his age. It almost distracted her from the front, his buldge which is probably the one thing that stayed the same from his Allmight form. It was extremely hard to maintain eye contact with him that day. Not that she was complaining about the eye candy, the yellow sleeping bag that pretended to sleep on the floor didn’t seem to mind either.

While thinking about the potential of jokes about Yagi’s pillar of peace to bring up in front of Shota later, Nemuri comes across a sweater. The sweater was a high quality wool, cream colored with some green trim on the collar that goes down to a v. It would be perfect for his form, a little snug but still covered everything to start him off slow. The arms a little long for the average person but perfect for his long arms. The bottom might come up a little short though. Showing off his midriff when he reached up. Potentially showing a nice v of his hips, maybe even a nice little trail of blond that dips into his pants. Oh the thought of sweet little Yagi in a crop top is intoxicating. But baby steps. She needed him to trust her with fashion first before she tries anything to scandalous.

He was still reading on his phone when Nemuri grabs the tall man by the wrist and yanks him out of his seat. With a cute little yelp he is brought up to his feet and shoved into a changing room with the sweater being thrown at him.

“Your not coming out till you put this on.” Nemuri says as she chucks over some black jeans to go with it.

After watching awkward arms reach above the door and listening to the general struggle of a man menuvering in a changing room that doesn’t accommodate him, he steps out. His black blue eyes shine in contrast with the creme color of the sweater. Giving off a sweet older man who waters flowers in the community garden than his usual look of a man who got lost in a deflated blimp.

“Oh my god honey you look so sweet.”

He checks himself in a mirror and twists to see the back. She could see his ribs poking through the fabric wile it rides up his toned stomach not as much as she hoped unfortunately. But the fitting pants made up for it. Although they don’t show off his front for the sake of the students and people who actually want to get work done in the teachers lounge, it still shows off that cute little ass of his, and that’s all she can ask for.

Yagi actually holds his attention to his reflection of the mirror. Giving the look an actual chance. From the relaxed look in his eyes, he might actually like it.

“I never thought I would wear a wool sweater like this again. I forgot how warm and comforting they are.”

Nemuri comes up in front of him and adjusts the collar for him, opening it up a bit so his collar bones peek out a little. “I can’t imagine the amount of sheep needed to make a sweater for Allmight.”

He chuckles at the comment and how her nails tickle his chest, now used to her touchy nature. “It was in high school. My mentor forced them on me when she found out that my foster home didn’t try too hard to find winter clothes that fit me.”

He rubs the end of the sleeve to feel the texture, smiling slightly, reminiscing the memories he had with her when wearing the sweaters. It was always interesting to hear about his life when he was young. He was usually guarded when it came to anything about himself before his hero days, so to hear any little tidbit about him was to be met with a neutral yet encouraging reaction.

“Well I’ll be sure to make her proud by making sure that your fabric needs are taken care of.” Nemuri says while coming around behind him and placing her hands on his shoulders, admiring his smile in the mirror. “And I can make sure she rests peacefully by getting rid of that ugly yellow suit.”

He looks up from his sleeve. “Hey! I love that yellow suit!”

“You look like the noodle balloons that are outside of a car dealership. Im no longer letting my dear friend to walk around looking like a mustard bottle.”

Yagi takes the light roast with little grace with a small groan. He looks down at his wrist to look at the tag. He reads it with a puzzled look.

“I think we need to call an associate. I think they’re missing a decimal on the price-“

“Alright! Time to head out! I’ll meet you outside the store!” She shoves the bags in his hands, rip the tags off his wrist and waist and hurries to the counter.

“Ah. I can pay for my own clothes-“

“Nope! This is my treat! You can pay me back by meeting me at the car!”

Yagi looks at the minimum of 20 bags in his hands and accepts his fate. Trudging his way back to the car with the mini fortune in toll.

———

“Alright come on this is our last shop.”

“Ya no. I think I’ll wait in the car.”

“Dont worry, this place is very professional and no one will mention you being here. They are very strict about privacy. Also it will stop random men from asking me out.”

Yagi goes over the definition of professional in his head as he walks into a sex shop named “The Bimbo’s Boneyard”. It was suprisingly sleek inside despite the name. Defiantly one of the more higher end sex stores he’s been to. It was similar to a tech store with all the LED lights and plexiglass display boxes. It would be less weird if some of them didn’t have sex dolls that were determined to stare him down.

He decided to walk away from the display, trying to find something to look at with out actually looking at anything. His eyes catch a box with a cute little cat on it. He smirks a little. It reminds him of the stray cat that lives in the brush that’s on the way to campus from the dorms. He would give it pets every morning and eventually leave cans of food every morning. One morning he found a hunched black blob taking a nap on the grass. He was about to ask the obvious homeless man if he wanted his bento when he realized it was his coworker Aizawa. Sleeping on the cold ground at 5:30 in the morning with a cat that, while a sweet heart, was probably ridden with fleas.

“Excuse me sir, the food bank is on the other side of town.”

“I know but they were offering a cash prize for who ever found the dementia patient that ran away from his nursing home. Looks like I just found him.”

He chuckled at the memory. When their odd friendship really started to bloom. Not only with Aizawa, who while he was probably the closest too, took the longest compared to his other coworkers. He loved talking to Mic about classic American rock and fighting with him on how Nikki is so much better than Cardi. He loved trading tea with Thirteen as they go on about a new show Yagi has no clue what their talking about, but loves the passion. And Nemuri, who took pity on him the first day and decided to spoil him with attention and gifts that mostly ranged from sugar free candys and cute pens. It makes him feel like a toddler more than anything, but he thinks it’s sweet. He just never expected to have so many friends after Allmight was gone. He half thought if Nighteyes prediction didn’t kill him, then his loneliness will.

“My my my, I must say I’m surprised.”

Toshinori shook out of his self reflection and looked at his friend.

“I had my theories but I must say I never expected pet play from you. To think I thought you were just a vanilla cradle robber.”

He flushed with shock in confusion. Only to find that the box with the cat he was staring at for the past 2 minutes was for a bundle for a cat headband, a leash, mouth gag, and plug tail.

Absolutely horrified Yagi stammers to regain his reputation of role model rather than creepy old man. “Shit! No! No! I was just looking at the cute cat!”

“There’s no need to be ashamed, I am a professional after all. If you ever want to talk about that kind of stuff with me, I’m always open for questions.” She assured him calmly. “I’m gonna go to the check out if you want to look at the other options. I will say that you would look a lot better with the black ears.” She struts off with a few leather tools and some weird egg looking balls.

“There’s nothing for me to fucking look at because I’m not interested in that! Wait.. WHAT DO YOU MEAN CRADLE ROBBER?” He stomps off to catch up with her.

————

The staff Christmas party is filled with decorations, overworked teachers and spiked eggnog. Coworkers chatting and playing games as the snow falls outside. Yagi is chatting with Aizawa about how much Nezu is going to lose in poker after he demands people play with him. He takes a sip of his sugar free hot cocoa, very glad that his friends get a well deserved break.

“Merry Christmas Yagi!” Thirteen shouted as they shove a fancy bag in his face.

“Oh thank you Thirteen! I hope you didn’t spend too much on me.

“Oh no it wasn’t me!” Thirteen corrected. “Midnight was your secret Santa. She said she’s a little too tipsy to walk in her heels right now and asked me to give it to you.”

He looks past the smaller teacher and sees Nemuri in a tight red dress and tall stilettos. Giving him a wink when she notices him receiving her present.

He smiles and waves back at her. He pulls out the first item from the bag. An expensive looking cologne. He brings it up to his nose and gets notes of Cuban cigars and vannila. He sees a little tag attached to the bottle. With lovely cursive script it read “Garenteed to even get the angriest cats purr~”

He reads the tag as he hands the cologne to Aizawa. Shota sniffs the bottle and his eyes roll back a little bit. Obviously enjoying the scent.

“Wow she picked out something that matches your pretentious persona.”

“Maybe you can ask her to pick out some bar soap that you desperately need.” Yagi rebuttles without even looking up. Still trying to figure out what the tag ment.

“Is there something else in there? If not that’s a heavy bottle.” Thirteen comments before being passed the cologne to take a sniff.

Oh ya, maybe look at the rest of the gift before over analyzing the card. He opens the bag wider and is smacked in the face with realization on what the message ment. His blush going to his ears as he looked at the “Kinky Kat Play” bundle that he repressed from his memory. He looks up at Nemuri with shock as he finds her staring at him. Raising her glass with a smirk as she turns back to her pile of chips and angry, losing boss.

He shuts the bag quickly before Thirteen and Aizawa gets a chance to peek. “Ahhh ah. It’s a very personal gift that I don’t want everyone to know about.”

“Alright I understand.” Shota replies. He turns to Thirteen. “Thirteen get your hand vacuum ready.” The nosy prick demands as he lunges for the bag. Thank god for these stupidly long arms as he gets the bag out of Shota’s reach.

“It’s none of your fucking buisness you asshole!” Yagi cries as he goes on his toes as Shota climes him like a tree. Thirteen is giggling at their weird friendship while not helping anyone. Yagi would rather die than have the present be shown to his coworkers and worst of all Shota, who would NEVER let this go.

While he hates to do it, he’s desperate, and it has to be done.

The sickly man expands his diaphragm in such a way where when he coughs, he gets enough blood out of his mouth to put on a show. He makes a display of coughing and catching his breath. Blood covering his hand and dripping out of his mouth. He goes a little too far by making his hand shake but he needed extra sympathy points.

It seems to do the job as Thirteen rushes to his side to support him. “Shota you know you can’t be to rough with him.”

Aizawa stares at both of them in disbelief, then back at Yagi. “You are not seriously trying to play the sick old man card right now.”

Thirteen loops Yagi’s arm around their shoulders.“Shota you were to rough on him. The man has no stomach and only one lung. You should know better as a professional.”

“A professional knows when someone is faking when said person has no problem taking and dealing punches while sparring, but suddenly can’t handle a few grabs.” He cannot believe Yagi is trying to make an escape route by making Aizawa look like the asshole that beats up sick old men.

“You don’t need to defend me Thirteen.” Yagi says, adding a little tremble to his voice. “He just can’t handle losing to an old man. Could we go to the office? My nebulizer is in there.” The asshole making sure to add some pity coughs at the end.

“Of course Yagi.”

Shota stares openly in shock on what happening in front of him. Not only at Yagi’s pathetic stunt over something stupid, but Thirteens naiveté.

“A nebulizer treats asthma! Not bleeding lung asshole!” Shota shouts like an absolute child.

As he watches the duo walk, no sorry, LIMP to the office, he sees Yagi readjust his arm. To give an undeniable middle finger to Shota behind Thirteens head. The shameless bastard smiling back at him.

[flowerslightning]

Let's take a quick look on how Cloud handle his depression in AC - specifically his room

In the Remake, pretty sure Cloud actually suffered from PTSD + depression due to the trauma he faced, but since his memories messed up everything and need to hurry come back in action - click here to read what I ranted about his memory - , so Cloud didnt show much symptoms of someone with depression.

I wanna highlight more in the AC. We all certain that Cloud was happy enough with Tifa and the kids. He was recovering, slowly but improving. Yeah, though he had some problems with Tifa, but I consider he was in recovering phase. However, things changed when he got himself Geostigma, this was where Cloud got deluded he was worthless, guilty and his depression kicked in (again)

We'll focus his room, the place where he sleep. This was the room where he slept (well I believe he sleeps here) and took orders for deliveries, and also he used this room for studying about Denzel's illness through medical books. Dont try to mention about the color of this room. Cloud, pls give some sunlight to ur room. It was gloomy. 

But hey the bar looked gloomy too so i guess devs should take the blame for this? No, jk. Blame the lighting the devs gave

There was no curtain, no mirror, no decoration, plain. Oh well, this room belonged to a male, what were u expecting for? It was quite clean if u ask me. And there we see an old tyre, some boxes and.... An old tyre in second floor room.... Hmm alright..

Hey, dont judge him.. Cloud loves his fenrir, so, its normal. Im sure there were oil cans for his bike somewhere too

But, can u see the papers and pictures on the wall?

Yup, there were plenty of papers and photos on the wall and on the table. I'm guessing those were the notes/receipts for his deliveries work. And the papers on the table were about his research on Geostigma

And the books... Ohh, if only med books were that thin, im sure the med students dont have to suffer too much to study.. Uuh, and those hard cover books. Must be pricey..

U can see photos of scenery on the walls. It could be Cloud took those pictures while he was doing his deliveries around the world. Someone who suffers from depression, they usually have no interest with such things. So, we could say that Cloud really was recovering well from his trauma. There were photos of skies (cough.. Zack's symbol cough) and open field. Cloud had a thing for this scenery

Plus, a family photo on his table ! Awkward Cloud and shy Denzel spotted there

Tifa could freely enter the room without hesitation. She even answered the phone call and talked like a normal operator. Meaning, Tifa was used to enter Cloud's room with/without permission. U could say "Ofc she entered the room without hesitation, Cloud wasnt there, duh". U see, even if Cloud was no longer there, do u know the word 'privacy' still exist? It was not like Cloud moved away forever from that house.

We've been told by the devs that Cloud had been living with Tifa and the kids for quite some time. He felt too peaceful with him to the point it scared him a lot.

After he got himself Geostigma, he moved to the Sector 5 church and lived there. This place, exactly how someone with depression would live.

Dont read this if ure Clerith shipper or easily triggered. 

Now, I've read somewhere that says Cloud having depression for loosing Aerith was a romantic act. And WHERE THE HECK DID U FIND THIS ROMANTIC? TELL ME??? OUR CLOUD HERE WAS THINKING ABOUT DEATH, HE NEGLECTED EVERYTHING AND YET U THINK IT WAS ROMANTIC???

Reduced hygiene, gave less damn about the warmth, who needs a blanket anyway. Rain? Who cares. Let my entire place be soaked wet. No pillow, no bed? Like i care about it. Say hello to my housemate, the bacterias and mosquitoes. Is that a cup i see there? Yeah, i dont need food. 

Cloud was really homeless here. Someone who was expecting to meet its end there, slowly and painfully. He wanted to 'die' there, alone.

Having depression - major depressive disorder is not romantic at all. And can never be seen as a 'sweet' thing to do for ur partner. I saw real patients with MDD and I have to say, the only things they want was to feel happy and peaceful again. They had anxiety, they felt sad without proper reason, they scared of something that i dont think it would happen, some patients were too afraid to smile, lots of them just wanted to die bcause they were feeling hopeless and shame. 

If i were Tifa, I would be sad too. U have a warm bed to live, clean water to drink and yet u choose to live in a cold damp place.. WORRY ABOUT UR HEALTH, CLOUD !

Cloud was a dork for not trying to get help, but it wasnt his fault. We should thank his family and friends to be there for him even when he kinda pushed them away for a bit.

But after he finally moved on, his room became brighter than the previous look. Cloud let more sunlight to enter his room, and more scenery pictures hanging around his wall and on the tables

Cloud framed his big FF7 family photo. Despite the cold look he always gave to the team, he is actually a big softie. From the two different pictures, the one on the right was before Cloud moved on from his guilt, we can see Cloud was not really getting well in the picture, he looked awkward, and Denzel was being shy shy. In the new picture, Cloud was seen to be more involved in the group photo. Wait, was he smiling there? I’m sure he was smiling and Denzel looked happy too. - The family conflict resolved -

It would be fairly enough to say, Cloud finally found peace within himself and looking forward for the future together with his small family.

Another thing, 

FF7 always associated with yellow flower. So, the yellow flower is not necessarily about Aerith only. The SE has confirmed in Ultimania Crisis Core, the water represents Aerith, and since Aerith is the last Cetra and an important character in FF7, the flowers always associated with her. and thus, the flower is the main symbol for the entire FF7 game. 

[missmentelle]

i want to write a character who just left a toxic relationship, but the character depends on the toxic partner, because they are having trouble finding a job. when character leaves the toxic relationship, they are left with basically nothing and are kicked out of the only home they had. however i have never experienced something like this(fortunately) and im not sure what would and could happen. could you help me? (fyi later on the character does actually get help, in the end everything is ok)

Unfortunately, I do have a lot of experience with this kind of situation. I have never personally had to go through something like this, but in working with the homeless and in intimate partner violence crisis centers, I have met many, many people who’ve been in this exact situation. These stories are very individual and complex, but typically, if you have left a toxic relationship and lost your home because of it, there are a couple of places you end up from there:

If you have family and friends nearby, that’s probably the first place you’re going to land. You might end up sleeping on a couch, in a guestroom, or back in your old childhood bedroom after leaving an abusive relationship. That’s not an easy or comfortable situation to be in, however - it can be very, very difficult to admit to your loved ones that you’re in this situation and need their help, even if they have never been anything but loving and supportive towards you. Most people have some degree of pride in being able to take care of themselves, and having to admit to your friend that you were abused for years and you need to crash on their couch can be absolutely humiliating. Abusers also tend to isolate their victims and actively try to sabotage their social connections, so turning to friends and family after escaping often involves that you break months or years of silence to reach out to someone that you are no longer certain you can count on, and then immediately confessing some of your darkest secrets and asking for help. If your abuser has moved you far away from family and friends, and cut you off financially (another common tactic), you’ll also probably need to ask someone to send you some money for a bus/train/plane ticket home. The shame of having to reach out to family and friends can be so overpowering that many survivors will allow themselves to become homeless rather than reaching out - the greater the perceived obstacles in place (distance from family, closeness of relationship, time since last contact, whether or not the family already suspect abuse, how much of a burden they think they will be on their family), in my experience, the less likely they are to actually reach out. 

If you don’t have friends or family to turn to (or if you are not emotionally able to reach out, or if your friends/family are not in a position to help you), you can also end up in a domestic violence shelter. These vary wildly from shelter to shelter, but typically you will go in, speak to an intake worker, and be assigned to a shared room with several other women (these shelters are almost exclusively female-only, or female-and-child-only). The shelter will also typically provide the bare-bones basics that you need if you had to flee with nothing - they’ll give you basic toiletries, clean underwear, socks, etc. Your time at a domestic violence shelter is typically limited; they are somewhere to land while you get back on your feet, but they are not intended to be a long-term solution. Many shelters here in NYC do not have maximum stay limits, simply because this is such a difficult place to get housing, but I have worked with shelters in other cities that had 60-120 day limits, with some ability to get an extension if you needed in. In that time, though, you’ll generally be working with counsellors at the shelter to try to get your life together - they’ll try to help you with your resume, look into going back to school if you need to, help you look for work, help you look for employment, assist you with any court case you may be dealing with, etc. Again, though, this can take an enormous emotional toll. You’ve just been through a horrific experience, and instead of taking time to recover, you are now being rushed into achieving a level of independence that you might never have experienced before, with the knowledge that there is a ticking clock over your head and you don’t know what will happen when it runs out. You’re also trying to deal with the loss of privacy that comes from sharing your living space, and from having to tell your story to shelter staff before you’re totally ready to do so. Domestic violence shelters do amazing work, but being there is not easy. 

Many domestic violence survivors end up homeless. Many people who leave abusive relationships do not immediately have the life, job or emotional skills necessary to immediately transition to independent living. Abusers like to make their victims dependent on them, to discourage them from leaving - many people living in abusive relationships are prevented from completing their educations, furthering their careers, managing money, properly treating mental health or medical conditions, or fostering a strong social support network. As a result, many people struggle immensely after leaving a relationship, and may experience short-term or long-term homelessness as a result. This kind of thing doesn’t discriminate - in my career, I’ve met women with multiple graduate degrees who ended up in long-term homeless shelters after leaving abusive relationships. It’s hard. There is a strong, documented link between domestic violence and homelessness, and we don’t yet have the kinds of resources we need to break this connection. 

You’re almost definitely going to end up in an ugly legal battle. In many jurisdictions, it’s not really legal to kick your spouse out of the house and make them homeless and destitute - but the battle to get alimony or marital assets from your ex-spouse can be long and ugly. Abusers typically lash out when their victim escapes them, and one of the ways that they can try to do that is by attempting to make the divorce as messy, vicious and drawn-out as they possibly can. A woman who has left an abuser she is legally married to will face a long battle to divorce her spouse and get any kind of financial recourse. Abusers can generally afford much nicer lawyers than their victims can, and can afford to let the case drag on and rack up legal fees. There are pro-bono or low-cost legal resources out there for survivors, but the court case can take an enormous emotional toll all the same. 

Returning to the job market is incredibly difficult for most survivors. Again, abusers like their victims to be dependent on them - they will go out of their way to discourage you from fostering your independence. That often means that they will discourage or prevent you from finishing school, having a serious career, hanging on to your own money, or developing professional contacts. That can take many forms - they might move you away from a city where you have a career, tell you that you can’t afford school, ensure that you are constantly pregnant/parenting, constantly accuse you of cheating with coworkers, whine about you “neglecting” them until you agree to quit your job, etc. And all of this can be very hard to overcome. Having a large gap in your work history because your partner made you stay home for several years can make it hard to find work, and disclosing that this gap is due to domestic violence can hurt your chances of landing the job. Plus, many survivors come out of these relationships with their confidence absolutely shattered, which makes it difficult to think that you’re even worthy of applying on jobs that you are qualified for. 

Domestic violence (and life after domestic violence) is definitely a topic that could stand to get more coverage in fiction and the arts. When you are basing a story around domestic violence, though, I think there are three things that you really need to keep in mind:

What is my purpose in telling this story? What message am I trying to convey? Writing about domestic violence should not be done simply because it’s a shocking topic, or because it’s an instant tear-jerker - there should be some purpose for basing a story around it. What are you trying to say about the topic? What are readers supposed to take away from the story?

Talk to real survivors about their experiences, or at least do some research by looking at narratives from people who have personally experienced this. There is no end to the memoirs/stories/films/shows written about this topic by people who have actually been there. See what they have to say about it. What do different people’s stories have in common? What things set them apart? Ideally, you should try to have someone with personal experience read over your story when it’s finished, to see if anything comes across as hollow or unrealistic. And if you are basing your research heavily on a survivor creator’s work, try to buy their book/kick in a few dollars to their ko-fi or Patreon if you can. 

Consider what a “happy ending” looks like in this situation. The hard reality of the situation is that very few people get to have that victorious ending where they become more powerful and successful than their ex and get to destroy their abuser and laugh in their face. For many people, a “happy ending” is a quiet, humble life where they are no longer actively haunted by the abuse, and where they are at peace with the fact that their abuser faced no real consequences for their actions - and even this happy ending can take years to achieve. Having someone bounce back from this kind of situation quickly in a story can come across as flippant, and as glossing over the hard realities of the situation. 

Best of luck to you!Miss Mentelle

[tumblunni]

More daily acconplishment diaryness!

Finished unpacking and sorted my clothes into clean and need of washing. Dug out the old webcams i was too scared to use for years and maybe i will try em once i set up the computer again?

Cleaned all the mold out of the refridgerator even though it was GROSS AND SCARY. Woo!

Also finished about 1/3rd of washing every dish i own, which is good cos they were stacked so high i couldnt even see the sink before! I actually found a bunch of dishes i'd lost while i was cleaning up before i left last month. SO MANY FALLEN SPOONS! But i didnt have time to wash any of them so i'm sure they're glad to finally be disinfected and ready to use again. Some had gone rusty or broken and had to be thrown out tho.

Made a big A3 calendar for the next 3 months so i can try and be more structured in my life. Maybe it will work? I dunno about any sort of weekly schedule yet, gonna wait until i get more clarification on what days classes are available at the library and when i'm gonna be seeing support worker richard again and Mystery New Support Worker Who Is Replacing The Hospital Basically. Like they said i can indeed have the support without the mega supervised shared housing thing, so i'm gonna be meeting a new group of mental health recovery specialist tutors who can visit me at my own home instead of me going to the hospital full time. I'm actually kinda glad of all the horrifying lack of privacy in the hospital in one way, like i've always been terrified to invite people inside my house because of the same reasons. But now in the aftermath of EVEN MORE people up in my personal space and EVEN LESS privacy and AN EVER REVOLVING LINE OF STRANGERS who DO MEDICAL TESTS ON MY PEE, it seems a little less scary to just let the same support worker sit on my sofa every month. Im still flying on the fear of all that stuff and this seems positively pleasant in comparison! And i'm sure that feeling will wear off as i become less jittery again, but by then i'll have had some practise talking to this new support worker on my sofa and hopefully i'll be less scared in general.

Oh! And i did decide one thing about a weekly schedule! I have to go out to town at least once every weekend. Or somewhere else fun on the bus. Now im not scared of regular buses i need to train myself to be less scared of the big long one in this neighbourhood. And getting to go out and experience ACTUAL SHOPS and COOL THINGS has cheered me up so much, i cant lose that just because the bus is longer now! The first planned outing is to go to town either on my birthday or the day after, cos i get my disability benefit on my birthday and i can afford to go do some mildly small fun stuff. Shame i spent all my savings and monthly bonus on preparing for stupid hospital, like man i must have wasted 500 quid on all that? The laptop and the new suitcase and new clothes and stocking up on toiletries and soooo much preparing aaa. I still dont know whether to be mad at myself for "only" lasting three weeks or proud of myself for enduring the worst three weeks ive had since i lived in a homeless shelter. Well i got free food at the hospital so it was better in that sense, but it was somehow even more invasive and nervewracking than the homeless shelter! I'd honestly prefer the days of nothing but bread and butter. And hell we had internet there and i was allowed to bring my tv even tho it was a huuuuuuge crt thing bigger than my entire body. I still have it even tho its outdated and broken cos i simply cannot carry it back down the stairs XD

ANYWAY that has been the random progress of today! Next order of business is that tomorrow i go return all the library books from the other library, and just continue going out for walks more often even if im broke and have nothing much to do. Well at least the library has a gym in pokemon go! Also hopefully the internet repair guy will call back tomorrow. And then on friday is the B day and the having money again, so lol anyone have any suggestions on what i should do to celebrate? I dont even really know what people DO when they go out for walks, aside from.. Walk. Like whats an activity i could even do on my own, aside from cinema? And i dont think theyre still showing the incredibles 2 so there might not be anything else good to see. Sigh! And then all i've got to watch out for is the Integrated Autism Service meeting on october 17th which i know NOTHING about not even where it is or what time. Hopefully i can get more details now im back home and able to meet up with dj richard the funky support worker again. Also on november 5th i have to remember to go get my eye test. I hope maybe i can get a new colour of frames this time! And then i dunno sometime nebulous in between all that i'm gonna get a phone call from the hospital guys again to settle the last of the paperwork and introduce me to the new hospital classes support person worker mystery thingieness. Which is a little anxious, so i kinda hope it happens sooner rather than later so i can continue riding the wave of relief from being home and accomplish loads of scary things before it wears off.

...man that wave is kinda annoying tho cos now i cant sleep! Im so hyped up!!i already did so many accomplishments today and they just make me hyped up to do more!!! THE LONGEST GREATEST TUESDAY OF THE YEAR

[aquariusinhell]

deep sigh

ive only eaten about 233 cals today. thats wayyy less than usual for me but because my (soon to be ex) housemate's family has been here basically all day i just havent been really able to eat anything. idk man. im getting kicked out of this place. which sucks. but i wasnt that upset about it. i mean at the time obviously i was but then fairly soon afterwards i was okay about it. i think the reasons are somewhat valid but largely not. anyway. im going to be living at my aunty's for a bit now, which will be interesting in terms of diet. living here its just me and my housemate, and we never ate meals together or anything like that. but now it's going to be a household of 5 people (more than i've ever lived with in my life) and they all tend to eat a lot. not a bad thing obviously but they're all overweight to some degree and one of the main reasons i didn't want to live there was because i was scared of gaining weight. i got under 60kg here without even meaning to in like 6 weeks, which is crazy considering there were times when i was trying super hard to do that and didn't achieve it. and i mean with my dietary restrictions i'll be making a lot of my own food anyway but still. idk. i just hope no one notices that im not eating a lot. im really grateful that i'm going to be able to live there though. like really. id rather be fat and have somewhere to live than skinny and homeless. it'll kind of suck to have less privacy though. whatever. living here and living there have their pros and cons. its just that my eating disorder brain fucking loves living here since im in charge of my own food. its not like i want to stay in my room all day. im just doing what feels like the least awkward type of interaction. whatever. ive managed to lose weight in my old family home. maybe i'll go for more walks around this new suburb. it'll be a good way to practice only eating what i actually need/want. like how those naturally skinny people do it. crazy to think im consistently at 58kg or whatever. its good but still weirds me out a bit. i cant wait to be consistently smaller. i should go for a walk tomorrow. idk its just felt shitty to be in my room all day. ironic that they want me to be out of my room but they are the reason i am in my room rn. would they want me to be out of my room rn? i don't even know. probably. they're that type of people. in a way im kind of looking forward to being in a house with more people. maybe ill regret that within a week of living there but idk it'll just be interesting i think to see how everything works. like a proper family. the most people ive had live in a house together is three, and that was before i was 12 so its been 6 years since that. so yeah itll be a bit of a change. ill probably contniue this in another postor osmething idk

[noctomania]

I know i complain a lot about this & i know i may not know everything but what i do know has just continued to piss me off.

I used to use this tumblr partially just to rb stuff but also to dump shit that was on my mind kinda like a livejournal (i used to have one). I liked having it out in the open so that if ppl out there were going through something similar they could see they weren't alone in experience or in having no idea of what to do. For the past few years every time i wanted to do that i had to second guess myself bc my stepmom thought it was ok to find my blog & creep on it without letting me know until she came across something she wasn't happy with. After she told me that, i tried to change as much in my privacy settings, short of deleting my blog entirely, to prevent her from snooping if she wasn't going to respect me. I still don't know if any of it worked. For all i know she could still be.

My mind is often plagued by the time I was reaching out to my parents when i was facing homelessness, like serious homelessness. Not the summer homelessness i had already been enduring for the 5yrs prior. I'm talking i couldn't get a full time job & was barely surviving on part time work at Marshall's for minimum wage & no benefits. Im talking i was lucky i had any savings left over after college bc most got ate up - literally. Im talking i worked through college to feed myself, PLUS was an RA to cover housing fees, plus a full time student. My first apartment i was living in a large closet. As a sublet. Paying twice as much rent as i should have been. And got robbed a half a months rent.

When i was already reaching out to social services i also reached out to my parents for advice. I said nothing about money nothing about moving onto their couch. Just guidance. They came back at me with "we can't help you". They made it seem like i was asking them to carry me. I felt at that point the only option i had with what experience i had was to run away back to school. Which meant literally doubling the debt i already had. The only reason i wasn't paying into the debt at the time was i was literally too poor to.

Going back to school was great i terms of i had money finally & got to move back to salem & afford living alone. But if you're running away TO school...you don't want to go to school you want to run away. I wasn't ready, i was just desperate. So the plan failed, i failed, i ran away again. I was exceptionally "lucky" this place had jobs open.

But what im on about tonight is the info i found about my parents & their money. Now mind you when i say my parents i mean my dad & his wife. My real mom been dead long time. SHE was poor. SHE raised my sister & i primarily alone. We had food bank & food stamps & free/reduced breakfast lunch & hand-me-downs from neighbors. That's how I grew up. So when my stepmom tried to deny that we grew up poor I cut her out of my life. Haven't spoken to her in years & only just spoke to my dad for first time in years my last birthday. I sadly regret taking the call bc it was just "when you gonna move your stuff out". After years of not talking. All he could think about was that. My stuff which mind you they stuffed into a corner of a mouse-infested garage so inevitably a lot of my stuff is now rat-nestings. They couldn't spare a single one of their several fuckin rooms IN THE HOUSE.

Tonight i was bored & thought what if i can look up info on how much they couldn't help me when i was broke. Turns out they make over 220k a yr, with AT MOST one employee besides themselves to pay (didn't even pay them enough imo) & pay thousands in property taxes for property they do literally nothing with & for a house with FIVE FUCKIN BEDROOMS AND THREE BATHROOMS FOR JUST THE TWO OF THEM TO LIVE THERE & NEVER INVITE ANYONE OVER BC THEY HATE COMPANY. That is their SECOND house mind you (last i checked with my dad they are looking at buying their third jfc). But they couldn't help their own child. And yes I understand running a private business costs money. I also understand that they don't get weekly checks, it's all depending on what cases they can get/win. They always acted like they had less money than they do though. Many years they worked out of the house so there was no extra rent to pay. I've been working in my current job for over 5yrs & I am just now finally making 35k/yr after many union fights.

I can't find it in my heart to forgive them. Had mom still been alive she would have stripped their small intestines right out of their ass for turning a cold shoulder. They didn't offer any advice or help when I asked except dad tell me to sign up for the military. Which goes to show how much they actually thought about me considering I am not allowed to join the military even if I wanted to bc I am transgender. I know for a fact bc i did still have to sign up for selective service when I applied for a loan for grad school & they sent a letter back rejecting me. But I still got to sign up for the debt 🥴 It was further disturbing considering my parents have always been very anti-military. It felt like a real "go fuck yourself" response & I've never been able to shake that or been able to properly explain to them how that felt. They don't get it & they don't care bc they think it's"good for me" or "builds character". I don't think either of them have ever faced the experience my sister & esp I have. Their standards seemed to revolve only around what they wanted me to do & not at all around what I need. But had the audacity to criticize politicians doing the same thing.

The work they do is great, & I'm proud of that. They've fought to provide social security & disability support to those who need it. But what sense does it make that you're more willing to help strangers than you are your own family?

They never even visited me up here. Not once.

I hate this country i hate my family i hate money i hate bullshit. All that i care about are cats/nature, food, & weed. Everything else is a waste of my patience. And i know there are ppl out there doing good things doing right by those they love, but that shit doesn't "heal" me like it does everyone else. Basic kindness shouldn't be such a commodity.

I've spent every year ive been working here saving as much money as I can without completely neglecting myself. I've had set backs primarily due to my health. But as far as i see it I am the only safety net i have at this point. I have no life. I don't even know how to have a life anymore. Quarantine didn't even phase me bc I already had no life to give up & still had to show up to work like regular.

It's no fuckin wonder ive had so much suicidal ideation over the years, I've nowhere I feel I can turn where i feel 100% trust.

AND I'M PRIVILEGED AF. I am white, I have a steady job & a union, I am making more money more consistently than I ever have before. Getting here has been hell & terrifying. Being shown that my parents really aren't there for me, finding out that I'm actually terribly alone in the world, & literally just having to double down on being my own best friend. It definitely ices the heart & cuts the elasticity of the tolerance.

Part of me really wants to just lay into them for this bullshit. But other part of me is like what for? If they would feel bad they should already. But they don't & won't. So I just gotta move on & ignore their calls.

[daddyconfessions]

sugar tales: Lady Ratchet

I met LADY RATCHET on CL about several years ago. It was the good old days when a guy could post an ad and not worry about it being deleted. Things went quick with Lady Ratchet too. After a few days of emails and text, I picked her up from some gated apts and took her to an upscale restaurant.  It was chilly that night. She had on a fur coat and a long dress that hugged her figure. Dark skinned sister with hazel eyes. Looking back on it I’d say she was hiding something underneath, but I never got the dress off to see.

As we walk into the restaurant we both noticed Sway from MTV sitting at a table surrounded by a bunch of girls and some dudes. Sway was a VJ and reporter at MTV for awhile. He also reports for something else but can’t remember what. Has his own radio show now.

We get seated and order drinks. By the time they come, we spark up what could have been a pretty decent conversation. But every few minutes she gazed over at the table Sway was at. She made little comments like, “Damn ain’t no room over there for me”  and “I wonder how long he’s here for.”  I should have been offended but tbh I was just really getting into sugaring so I was very excited to even be taking a chick out.  Feeling all lucky and stuff. She puts in an order for food and I just order an appetizer since I wasn’t really hungry. The waiter asks for the menu but she wants to keep hers. That was a precursor for things to come.

The food arrives and she takes a few bites as we talk. When the waiter comes back and asks if we’re ok she grabs and looks at other dishes. “I think I’m getting something else,” she says, perusing the dishes. The waiter asked if something was wrong with her plate and she said no. “I just want something else.” He tried to take the dish as he left but she wouldn’t let him.

We get back to talking again but now she’s really staring at Sways table off and on, tuning out our conversation. A few people have gone over and asked for his autograph and others have gathered around the table.

The dish comes and she moves her other plate to the side. She takes a few bites as we chat about what we both want out of the relationship in between he trying to see whats going on at Sway’s table.  10 minutes later the waiter has returned and now she’s ordering a 3rd drink by this point. She hadn’t finished the other two she’d ordered. “I always wanted to taste this,” she says. The waiter looked at me and I shrugged. “Get her what she wants.” Again he tries to clear the table but she doesn’t want to lose anything yet.

When the waiter comes back with the drink she’s found another dish to order. Lady Ratchet’s only taken a few bits of the last dish. This time when he leaves he makes a fuss about the table. “Ma’am you won’t have room for the dish when I come back. Can we at least put some things in a doggie bag?” She accepts and the poor chap disappears again.

“Damn I should have brought my CD,” she tells me looking over at Sway. “Oh you sing?” I ask, sipping on one of her unfinished drinks I’ve commandeered. “Yes,” she tells me and she starts humming a few verses to some song she wrote.

“What do you think?” she asks. I think she needs to keep her day job. But I say, “You sound good girl. You gone be famous.”

The waiter returns with a few cartons for the excess food as well as another waitress carrying her latest dish. The waitress sits it in front of me but our waiter says, “No its for her.” The waitress looks at me quizzically then smirks. I happen to glance at the table across from us and the folks over there have taken a keen interest in our table top which now looks like a buffet gone wrong.

Before the waiter and waitress can leave she wants another drink. They take the order and leave and I’m sure they have a pretty interesting conversation in the kitchen, much to my chagrin.

“I’ma go over there,” she announces. “Next bitch gets up from the table.” Then something snaps inside me. Not sure what. Maybe it’s the alcohol from her drink but my inner hood comes out. “Why?” I ask. “He’s got a dozen girls over there,” I say nodding towards the table. “And all of them look better than you.  So take another sip of your drink and try some more of the delicious food I’m buying.”

“Oh I’m sorry,” she says and prissy now. Then adds something to the affect, “I didn’t mean to make you jealous.”

“You’re not  making me jealous,” I remember saying. “You’re just being disrespectful.”

“You’re right baby,” she concedes and for the remainder of the evening she continues to order shit but leaves her aspirations of being a R&B singer and groupie alone. We get back to talking. Lady Ratchet wants someone to help her get an apartment and a car. No problem. I got it. My father always told me to listen to a person and they’ll tell you everything you want to know. I listen to LR and turns out she’s lost both apt and car being irresponsible.  In addition to getting them she wants them paid for monthly. She’s starting a new job that following Monday so if I take care of those big bills as well as lights, etc., she’ll be good. As we dive into the conversation further I find out she’s skipped out on a few places before the lease was up. The last 2 cars got repo’d.

Geez I can pick them. It would be a recurring theme for years to come.

“CHECK PLEASE,” I signal to the waiter as he walks by. I can tell this isn’t going anywhere. My goals changed as well. I quickly go from rescuing this groupie chick to simply hitting the kitty a few times and dumping her. I was more savage back then. Not my finer moment.

The check comes  and the waiter clears his throat as he says, “That’ll be $256.23”.

Usually they don’t announce the amount. I smile back as he puts the bill on the table in front of me. I think he’s going to leave but he stays behind. “Yea….I can take that for you now sir”. I’m tell him to come back in a minute and bring some more cartons for Lady Ratchet over here. He comes back in less than a minute. “Is payment ready sir?” he asks, dropping the cartons on the table. I pull out a wad of cash and drop $300. “Keep the change,” I tell him.

He returns with a plastic bag to hold all of the cartons of food this chick has ordered. “Oh,” she tells me.  “Ima eat good for the  next few days.”

I bet. We walk out with all the extra food cartons in bags, looking like we just went shopping for a bunch of shoes or something.

The sugar gods must have been laughing because outside we run into Sway, chatting up some fine ass Middle Eastern chick. Lady Ratchets seizes the opportunity, “Hold these,” she says, shoving the bags into me. I take them as she runs over to Sway who was clearly well on his way to getting some Persian kitty. Bastard.

“Excuse me,” she says. “Are you Sway? “

“Yes I am,” he says. She starts chatting him up. His chicks looking displaced along with me now. I walk up looking like a fucking loser with all these bags and shit. I ask him if that’s his voice I hear on Boondocks. He smiles and does a quick impersonation for me. I thank him and I become a groupie for a minute as I shake his hands. I start to say something but Lady Ratchet chimes in asking if he’s looking for any new talent. I look over at the displaced chick he was talking to and think “He’s got all the talent he needs tonight.”

Then Lady Ratchet drops to a new low. She starts humming a few notes from her wack ass song. Sway’s like

The he says some dismissive shit like, “ That’s good that’s good. Keep working on that.” Just curving that ass low key style. I manage to drag her thirsty ass away and we head to the car. “Damn. Damn. Damn” she’s saying. I put all the food in my trunk and get in the car. “Dammmmmnnn” she cries again. “I wish I had my CD. Fuck.”

“Its alright baby,” I say. But really I’m thinking you need some singing lessons. As we head towards her house we pass by a sex store. She wants go in. “I never been in one of those before,” she says. I make a U turn and pull into the parking lot. Inside she looks at all the lingerie and sex toys before stopping at the shoes. “Heeeeeeyyyy I want these,” she says indicating a pair of clear bottom stripper stilettos with 6 inch heels. They want $400 for them. I’m like, “Is your job this Monday stripping?” She says no. She just likes the shoes. I tell her, “Then where are you going to wear these heels at? She can’t even really wear these to club without people trying to pick you up.” I generally don’t care how a SB spends the money I give her or what she wants to buy. But, no way was a buying this homeless chick a pair of $400 shoes. That’s all the miscellaneous fees she’ll need for her apartment. She frowns and we settle on a dildo and a rabbit.

As we head out I say something slimely like, “When can I use those on you?” She’s like, “We can get a room tonight.” Sweet. I make a straight line to the motel. Inside the room my dick is hard as a rock and Im wondering if the those toys need batteries. She only pulls off her coat and gets on the bed though. I take off my shoes and my shirt leaving on my Tshirt and jeans.

I spend the next hour watching TV in a cheap hotel. Like “Motel and Chill”. Each time I try to get the dress off or kiss or anything she tells me she just wants to chill. Even tells me since she’s staying with her aunt she sleeps on the couch. She has no privacy whatsoever and this is the first alone time she’s had.

This shit goes on for about an hour. Just laying in the bed watching CNN and music videos and stuff. Finally I throw in the towel and start getting dressed. But she doesn’t want to leave. We go another 30 minutes before I insist we leave since I won’t be getting any kitty. We get back in the car and head back to her place. At the apartments I pull up to to the gate and ask her for the code. “I don’t have it,” she tells me. “We have to wait for someone to go in.”

Come on man! So I back up and wait in one of the parking spots by the leasing office. Car after car passes by on the street but none pull in. 45 minutes later I’ve asked the question “Uh, you can’t call someone to come  open the gate or give you the code?” 3 times. Finally she tells me they or whomever she’s staying with refuses to give her the code. She doesn’t even have a key to the place but someone will get up and let her in. Says they don’t trust her. “See Daddy, that’s why I need you to get me these things so we won’t have these problems.” I guy comes out a side gate, gets into a parked car and drives away. “We can’t use that gate?”I ask. “No,” she replies. “They are locked and you can only get out if you open it from the inside.” I inspect the gate and I don’t see how I can possibly get a hand in to turn the handle to open it.

Another 30 minutes go by of sitting in the car. I look at my phone and it’s after 2am. My wife hasn’t called yet but she’s probably sleep and hasn’t realized how long I’ve been gone. But I can’t be bothered with that at the moment. I got to get this bum bitch out of my car. Meanwhile she’s saying stuff like, “Someone should be here soon…” and “Nobody coming home tonight?” or “I’m so sorry baby. I know you have to go.” Then the sugar angels fly over my car and bless me with an idea. I see a place in a nearby fence that is fairly low. Low enough for me to climb over. If I stand on some type of metal box, probably a transformer or A/C, I can get me foot up and onto the fence and climb over.  I tell Lady Ratchet my plans, grab the food from the trunk, hand it to her and tell her to be ready when I open the gate the guy had come out of earlier. I jog over to the gate on some Mission Impossible type of shit. Only my mission is to get this chick out of my car! I could hear the MI music playing in the background as I climb on the metal thing or whatever,  get on the fence and a second later I’m on the apartment grounds.

Ethan Hunt in this bitch.

I walk fast through the apartment grounds, trying to find my way around to the gate. I got lost twice or just made the wrong turn depending on how you look at it. 20 minutes later I push the gate open and I hear the Mission Impossible music go off. I wave at my car and Lady Ratchet gets out with all the bags of food and comes towards me. When she gets to me she tells me thanks and tries to kiss me but I turn my head away. “I’ll see you later,” she says as I step outside the gate and let it close. I didn’t reply. I get back to my car and drive 100mph to get home. I get home and the wife is out cold. I slide in between the sheets like I’ve been there all night and fall to sleep.

The next two days she sends a few emails one saying “I know you’re upset about what happened. But I …” Fuck it. I close the email before even reading it.

I remember thinking at the time, if this is how its going to be as a sugar daddy then I’m done!

[itsjayyyy]

february 25, 2019 11:14 am

yes i know i still haven’t written a real update. give me a rest.

i’m hungry all i had this morning was half a poptart and a cup of tea and i want to go to taco bell but i need to start saving money and i don’t want to give up my seat on the fifth floor because im supposed to be studying for my calc exam tomorrow but i just can’t focus right now and my stupid potential roommate just shifted our meet up time to 3:30 which is right at my class time and i don’t want to tell her i can’t make it bc ill sound annoying and all of my friends don’t really care about me they always hang out without me they aren’t even my friends they just put up with me because i’m roses sister im not even that close with them i only see them when rose invites me out once every 2 months now that i live on my own i see how little anyone actually cares about me and i know that heather really does care but my schedule this semester is just really fucking me over i never have time to see her any more and the map on ucf’s website is useless i just need to find a new place to study after i come back from getting taco bell because i know that my seat on the fifth floor will be taken one second after i get up but i hate everywhere else on campus theres no privacy i feel like everyone is watching me and judging me especially in cb2 which is where my next class is but i’m not even sure im going to class because i need to meet another potential roommate over an expensive cup of coffe i know madeline already doesn’t like me but theres nothing i can do about that because i neeed a place to live and i would live out of my car to avoid everyone but i don’t have a car i cant afford insurance right now why can’t i just get a vw breadbox and live out of that that would be the dream and maybe i could finally declare myself as independent on fafsa because i would be considered homeless but not really i don’t want to go to visit my parents on my birthday but theyre forcing me to but if i just lived out of my car i could fall off the radar and never talk to anyone again i wouldn’t have to worry about people getting concerned about me and showing up at my doorstep like rose did once when i went noncontact i could just hide and not have to worry about other people looking at me or trying to peer into my life like i’m some kind of specimen on a petri dish all the private study rooms in the library are reserved today but its okay i wouldnt even want to use them because they have big windows and people walk by them all the time i just want to study for this exam so i don’t need to worry any more i just want it to be tuesday afternnon so it’s over i can’t fail this exam ive already failed one and i can’t afford to fail another i need to get a better grade than last time or else i’ll lose my scholarship again and i can’t appeal it twice my life is in the exact same spot as a year ago but this time im poorer than before and have less of a support system i cant give up my parking spot i dont want to drive off campus to go to taco bell but im so hungry i never eat enough these days i feel like my stomach is always hollow all i have is water and coffee because i spend my money on caffeine rather than real food my roommates right now take up all the fridge space and leave their dirty dishes for weeks i cant use my kitchen like i used to cook back at home i want this lease to be over already i want to move out but i still dont want roommates i want to be left alone i want enough money to be able to have my own place where i can play my music out loud and sit in my living room without seeing anyone else and cook in the evenings cook real food not just a quick bowl of noodles and i want to stop feeling restless but i don’t know how to make it stop just please make it stop

[vixen-vangogh]

polyvore was being a pain in the ass no matter how many words i tried to censor so here’s the life update i meant to put in that set

- have been living in a somewhat stable housing environment for almost a year and four-ish months now which is WILD and a huge record break for me.

- kind of have a partner? we're def QPPs and have been nomadic vagabond companions since like 2015 and have been sleeping in the same bed, cuddling, making life plans together hardcore since then. when i try to explain our relationship to others i explain that we are like Bert and Ernie from sesame street. it's not romantic but it's definitely a very serious thing and there is nothing i could forsee that would face our future that would not be faced together as companions. i was kind of chatting with a buddy the other day who was asking abt stuff and i was mentioning how an aphobe asked, 'how is this different from a best friendship, why do you need to call it a queerplatonic relationship?' and my instinct was to be all, 'well idk i mean i think most best friends don't stick their tongues in each others mouths' but like that said, some best friends do that and its totally legit but the main difference is we call it this because it is more accurate to the intricacies of our relationship.

a best friendship implies different things and a QPR is what we have been calling ourselves for some time.

- have come across the term alterous attraction many many moons ago and have concluded that more or less, this has been the basis for all the experiences of 'attraction' i have thought i felt in other categories. turns out i just love being pro/miscuous and cuddly and affectionate with people and it doesn't necessarily have to have any of the other attractions present. it's just an expression of my alterous attraction. and idk it just seems to make way more sense. someone said it was a commonplace for pre-questioning lesbians to make up to themselves crushes on boys with calculations involved about why this person is attractive.

i think maybe i do experience other forms of attraction but they're seldom enough that it's more anecdotal. and i'm going to call them crushes anyway bc it doesn't matter what i say or do - people are going to be confused by me and who i am and i shouldn't have to sacrifice the nuances involved in who i am and how i live my life to try and get smaller minds to understand it.

and nobody has to understand either. i don't even understand. that's heckin ok bro

- i've been on them 'ro/ids (testosterone) on and off for three months in spring/summer 2016 (androderm) and then the injections for some amount of time this year and there's been a lot of body changes. but mainly i'm looking at nu/des of other people on hormones and realizing like... what if I'm actually inters/ex? it makes no sense for my di/ck to be bigger than people a year on hormones in half the time, does it? like what's up there? and my body is signif hairier in a way that is noticeable to me and my QPP.

last week when I got the inje/ctio/n the nurse (who is a really nice lady? like smiley very friendly maternal type) asked me "how did you know?" without other context or anything.

I didn't really know how to begin because honestly no one had ever asked me that before and it's the one question I needed somebody else to answer back when I was like, 15/recently 16 and needed help finding myself. I wished future me could visit past me and tell me like, "hey jsyk this is what you concluded, here's the answers, and here's all the stuff I've realized about our past experiences that were actually Signs that you're #genderqueer"

and I think, another thing, I wish I could have told the past me, that the laws were going to rapidly change in my lifetime, and also to avoid any cis person who suggests therapy "for hormone starts" because that's what led me to like, 2 years of rather unhelpful talk therapy that turned into lowkey conversion therapy.

No one should ever make you write a sob story about your past before they allow you the autonomy to make decisions about your body.

I gave a little backstory of timeline and told her how my mom kept saying things like, "why are you so offended at the idea of being a woman?" etc and how we don't speak anymore, how I came out in 2011 and every day for the longest time I had to explain to other trans people who the heck I was. how my nonbinaryness was seen more as a delusion despite the fact that I found the wikipedia pages and message boards and I knew there were other people like me out there. I didn't know of another #nonbinary person until 2013 and even then I only met them in passing at a panel they hosted. (we ended up roommates for a bit around 2016 but that's another story)

I stopped having to give #genderqueer 101s to the LGBT+ community around 2014.

And I feel like after that Laverne Cox paved a lot of way for us, and Facebook started putting other genders on there (which I'd signed petitions for years before and considered to be a hoop dream)

and there's been corrective r/a/pe I've gone through and so many tears I've cried and sui/cide attempted and hospital visits

and things are definitely still horrific and I can never afford groceries. I don't eat enough to sustain myself and live on welfare and am too medicated and disabled to work and have tachycardia and PTSD and other complications of my own forced resilience

but I'm on testosterone or whatever and I look at the changes that have gone on and I know that I was a part of that

but I'm never going to get credit for it and it pains me how much I'm suffering because I started advocating earlier than the majority of trans people out today.

if I had come out to my mom years later, would we be speaking?

it doesn't ultimately matter, because if we kept speaking I still would have ended up d/ead. coming out and having her react like that, topped with her steal/ing from me when I was homeless, years of sui/cide baiting, physical + emotional + etc a/buse my whole life, it's miraculous I ever made it out alive

it's so painful but I just have never had the privilege of choice.

- I've been thinking to go back to school maybe and that I need to actually go at it full force with passion because I think I have gotten way too down on myself for the results that have come from my own halfa/ssery of it all. And my own procrastination etc.

I wish I had access to medical care as a child or counselling or something more than I ever did have because maybe I would have excelled in school instead of suffered to try and keep my head above water. I mean, I graduated honours (equivalent).

there's too much about my life to be angsty about.

- also idk if i mentioned this but i got ar/rested for protecting indigenous folks at a thing and it was in the news and im not going to talk much more on it bc of privacy but i'm happy to dig up the video of the pol/ice dragging me away and the crowd shouting (and gendering me right ;u;) "LET THEM GO, LET THEM GO" and i was a pathetic mess thru the whole thing and just had the wrong emotions the whole time and like 3+ reporters tried to get a hold of me for interview but I forwarded them to the indigenous leaders of the ceremony instead

we prayed inside the arre/st tent and put down tobacc/o and held ceremony and the c/ops were horrible and took so much personal offence to everything we were and every reality that happened that they wanted to deny. they banned us from the public land we were arrested on and it was horrible.

it was in the news and justin tr*deau showed up for a photo op and the organizers weren't allowed in their own tipi. he wasn't invited.

those with the land claim to the area made an official statement welcoming us and condemning the go/vernme/nt for arrestin/g us.

nothing was ever done about that bit other than them releasing us and i went to the hospital the next day to get my wrist checked because i couldn't really use it and the handcuf/f bruises and the bruise on my knee was massive. it's been two months and it's only now faded.

twitter blocked the image of us in the a/rrest tent holding hands in prayer with the hand/cuffs on our wrists. they said it contained "sensitive content"

tumblr did the same, calling it "NSFW" (weird bc literally photographs of my actual na/ked body with links to where u can buy videos of me jerkin is not labelled NS/FW automatically lol?????)

i asked tumblr to review that and they still labelled it as such.

it's just so blatantly a genuine broach of free speech and freedom of religion. it was a crimi/nalized religious ceremony and i got between the co/ps and a woman praying.

- i saw Against Me! in march and the mosh pit was extreme and I fell down at some point and like seven people pulled me up and that and the getting arre/sted thing has really hecked up my knees ! i feel like they're mostly healed since but i've not even been kneeling on my mattress for even a second to make sure of this. otherwise it's just been sudden pain for months but as i said, i think they're a lot better now.

- i came forward abt a pr/edatory ex and a few others of their victims came to me to say that they had gone through the same and that they were even more pre/datory than had been with me. i lost quite a lot of friends in the matter bc what i accused them of was extremely serious and came across as vicious on my part.

i'm going to take it as alright though, because i know that i've put what i said out there, and if they have read it at all, they can at least have these ideas in their mind going forward and take precautions. this ex was confronted publically and directly on social media about it and there were several witnesses and screenshots i had to things they did and said. i'm hoping that serves as some kind of warning for them, about their actions that they have confessed to with several people, and how these things will come back for them. that they cannot evade accountability, that i am a force of nature and if you wrong me or do a wrong in my witness with no remorse on your part or apology, i'm not going to let you live it down.

i care and i am tired of hearing horrible stories about them from others. others who came to me saying that i had been painted as an abus/er. because i know ! people see me standing up for myself as threatening all the time. they worry they aren't allowed to make mistakes around me.

no matter how many times i say it or prove it, there's always those people who are too cowardly to admit when they do make mistakes and who go to great lengths to protect their pride and entitlement.

i know we are all growing. i seek environments of mutual support and growth. i am now in a phase of life where i am not giving the time to people who have no interest in these environments. anyone can be my friend, if they are ready for it. but i don't owe it to anybody and anything wrong i have done i am at a point where i feel like i am in touch with my own humility.

and if someone tries to milk it because they think my vulnerability isn't also strength and something that comes with at least some ferocity... well, that's not my problem.

- my rabbit Snicklefritz is doing fine. he's shedding like the dickens this season and mischievous as usual but hopefully one day I can afford to make him an enclosure again and I can let him out only when I can keep track of him.

he's ruined a lot of sketchbooks and a lapdesk my QPP got me for the winter holidays that we are both heartbroken about.

- I am trying to become less attached to material belongings and it has helped me a lot when it comes to coping with all the sentimental items left with my mother or in the various times I've been homeless or left exes etc over the years.

My memories are in my heart and not something that needs to be placed externally, in an item.

Have also trying to go zero waste (like, becoming someone who produces no garbage, just recycling and compost) and it's really been noticeable all these small differences. I buy way more bananas, lettuce, etc. And I've been making bread and spaghetti and whatnot and having windowsill gardens.

- I'm not cured of anything or whatever and I'm angsty 24/7 and broke as heckaroo but there's enough of The Little Things In Life (gardening, youtube videos, kisses, etc) to help me get by in the meantime.

- three days ago a friend (who I consider(ed) chosen family) I had purposefully cut out of my life a year ago showed up on my doorstep to tell me I was right about everything and to apologize for all the wrongs. That they reread conversations we had around then and that they have grown and grown into a better place. They were 18 then and 19 now. We were from the same hometown and they're still there but moving to my city in December. I missed them so much and they stayed with me a few days. I feel a bigger sense of home in this city knowing they're going to live here soon too.

- I've been Really Intensely looking thru my DNA and geneology stuff since last winter. For some reason Indian (like, South Asia) shows up in my DNA and some southern Europe/Northern Africa/Middle East kind of region. My father was adopted via a stepdad and I figure this comes from his bio dad. Or maybe it doesn't, I don't really know. My maternal haplotype is supposed to be one that's generally found in African populations which throws that whole theory. My mom and me also had to use hair picks (afro picks) when I was growing up because our hair was so naturally thick and the waves really tangled up. Every time we went to get my hair cut in that white rural town the hairdressers would comment how they'd never seen such thick hair before etc. I'm still struggling greatly to find answers because everybody's last name is phoenetically weird except for my dad's mom's line which has an extremely Cornwall last name and anyone with that name is definitely part of that family.

Doing research to find what I was told growing up (that I was Kanien'keha:ka via my maternal grandmother's grandmother) has been very difficult because I'm not sure which grandmother of hers it was, and one of them seemed to remarry several times and I cannot be sure of any of the surnames being a maiden name. It's also really hard to know what the spelling was supposed to be because it was written phoenetically. But I think that one's likely English anyway. The other one I haven't reached yet but my grandmother's father's father seemed to be from a Metis community outside a reserve where I remember being told we had ancestors. It seems we're descendants of some really famous anglo Metis folk. I've not figured out the specific links to lock the names all into place properly in my family tree but it's the surname and the small community that are an exact match and on the message boards.

It's a lot to think about. I've been struggling with my racial identity for a long time and regardless of nuances and ethnic identity I feel like I'm just doing this research to seem special or more interesting or to branch out my activism. DNA is not ever going to tell me who my ancestors were, just the locations a small handful of random specific ancestors lived. Family trees are going to help, but they're not going to help me too much as someone who doesn't actually have blood family I'm in contact with really.

I might see if I can get in touch with an older cousin I have on Pinterest because she seemed to be the only one (besides my younger cousin) who really ever sent me vaguely kind gestures after I came out. She was the only one who seemed to be supportive when I did my grandma's eulogy. (Aside from my sibling who went up with me. But I don't speak to my sibling for other reasons.)

I have a paternal cousin as well but we're more half-cousins as my dad's mom had a few different men in her life and I don't actually know if he does have full bio-siblings. I don't really know if it's worth it to reach out to her because with all the technicalities and separations and adoptions and half-relatives I don't know whether I can ask her to ask around, or if I can just ask her, or what.

Anyway whatever it's just easiest to explain my ethnicity as being Metis because talking with others and stuff it seems like maybe this is the best way to label myself, to explain my complicated history and acknowledge that my blood ties are not what makes me me, but rather my ethnic ties. I have traditions and beliefs and ancestors I'm reconnecting with and trying to find.

Not all my ancestors were great people. But it is interesting as heck to learn about them. (Especially seeing pictures and some of the weirder resemblances from like, 5th great grandparents.)

Also one of my greats of grandparents crossed the US-Canada border several times in his life and near the end of them the border agent wrote "seems odd" on the thing and I haven't found any explanation for why he was crossing the border either lol which is pretty dang interesting imo.

- anyway idk I think I'm good ?? have been getting a lot of new interests and hobbies lately which feels good, feels right

i'm getting muscles because of them hormones and probably eating healthier or whatever and drinking more water and just livin life as best i can

could use some more dollars however but what can u do when welfare doesn't go up to match minimum costs of living haha :)