#they dont look gross and old enough!! even then i thought so but couldnt figure out a way to convey it

[creepfactors]

i didnt think i ever posted these?? heres some art from 2022

[aw-tysm]

hi im the anon from before.

to summarize my intentions here: i am wary of you because of how i have been treated in the past by people who post about the same things that you do and im trying to figure out whether or not you are going to be unkind to me if i exist earnestly in your vicinity like other autistic people who are similar to you have in the past.

i was not diagnosed with autism as a kid because my mom refused to have me tested because she didnt want the responsibility of raising a disabled child. she chose to intentionally ignore my impairments, and when she couldnt she made it clear that she thought my disabilities were personal and moral failings on my part. she has been calling me a spaz for so long that i didnt realize it was an ableist slur until i was a grown adult. i have been repeatedly told that being undiagnosed means you are obviously low support needs and nobody seems to be saying otherwise and that feels gross to me because my experiences dont make sense in that framework. and when i try to explain that to other people they invalidate and deny my experiences instead of challenging their own viewpoint of autism.

i suffered from severe head trauma as a three year old and it isnt actually diagnosed because my mom didnt take me to the ER. she took me to the family pediatrician who held me down long enough to sew shut the gaping wound on my forehead because my mom was planning to go see a play and she didnt want to have to stay home and keep an eye on me after i hurt myself. and now i am actively denied referrals to neurologists despite having seizures all the time. which i plan to sue over once i can get help figuring out how to do so. i have been heavily medically neglected because of my autistic behaviors that are undiagnosed because of the medical discrimination i face over my brain damage.

my emotional instability from the brain damage has been diagnosed as every "problem disorder" under the sun and as such everyone i ever meet thinks im delusional and out of touch with reality. i cant get adequate medical care because people think im crazy because of my more extreme brain damage symptoms and how they combine with my autism.

according to your definition i do have caregivers! even if theyre not very good at taking care of me! but when other "high/mid" supports needs autistics on here were questioning my disability i was told that the only caregivers that matter were ones that were paid to help you, that loved ones didnt count. i was made fun of for saying my loved ones are my caregivers. which is why i now say i dont have one. thats what i have been told to do by other people who claim they are more of an authority on autism than me.

according to your definition i also dont and cant mask but according to all the other autistic people who like to make fun of me all the time my severe ocd is the same thing as masking so thus im obviously low support needs. i have been called "sheldon cooper" by so many "high/mid" support needs autistic people that its not funny anymore. im constantly made fun of for "masking" by people who are mocking me for how stereotypically autistic i am behaving and its making me feel scared and sick. im being repeatedly gaslit about what masking looks like so people can deny my disabilities.

i have had "high/mid" support needs autistic people call me "retarded" repeatedly because i get upset when they mislabel me as "low support needs" when i am evidently not.

i have been silenced with extreme violence because early diagnosed autistic people keep saying im "talking over them" when i try to explain that my experiences dont fit within their perception of autism.

im just.

you seem like you have genuinely good intentions but at the end of the day the way you are engaging with the autism community makes me feel unsafe as a psychotic autist with brain damage who has severe medical and psychiatric trauma from neglect i face due to ableism.

some of us dont get to have a diagnosis even if having one would help us survive. some of us dont get to have adequate caregivers even if we need them. some of us dont get any accommodations at all even if we need them.

i am. literally struggling to survive. because allistic society does nothing but abuse me and the autistic community seems to want to pretend they dont see it? my basic needs arent being met and nobody thinks its their responsibility to help me and im getting scared.

i just feel like i have been forcibly pushed out of my own community by people who think they are an authority who has the right to "correct misinformation." i dont think you should all get to Speak As Authorities in a way that gives people who have more niche experiences no room to talk about their own lives.

you arent an authority on autism. you are an authority on your own experiences. and if you want to correct misinfo as it relates to your own experiences then fine but you need to be more mindful of what actually counts under "your experiences" because as i see it your viewpoint on autism is limited and you are imposing an Autism Standard that only covers a very small part of the spectrum.

you. are not. an expert. on the whole. autism. spectrum. and yet you think its your place to "correct misinformation" based on your own beliefs and opinions and experiences. what if its not misinfo and you are just misunderstanding someone???? what if YOU just dont understand what they are talking about because you dont have direct experience with it??

how can you trust that the information you are spreading is any more correct or helpful?

i am at least "mid support needs" according to all the definitions and requirements and yet other people who claim to be my peers keep calling me ableist slurs because they insist im low support needs.

i just want to know that if i interact with your blog as a person who doesnt fit your expectations that you arent going to tear me to absolute shreds over it like the bajillion other "high/mid" support needs autistic people who have literally called me retarded for not wanting to be improperly labeled in a way that denies my suffering.

and like. this is not "discourse" and im frustrated that you see it as such. its such a red flag. i am begging you to be more mindful of autistic people who have experiences that you dont understand because youre attempts to "educate" are biased.

i just. i think yall should stop appointing yourselves as Autism Ambassadors when you are only knowledgeable on a very narrow part of the autism spectrum: the part you personally are on.

you are a hairs breadth away from unintentionally denying a lot of peoples experiences and i think yall need to just. take a step back and ask yourselves what exactly you think you are accomplishing by "correcting misinformation" like this. who is correcting all the misinformation i was fed by people who didnt want to allow me to talk about how hard my autism makes my life?

Honestly? It sounds like you're just giving yourself reasons to not follow me. And that's perfectly fine, you don't have to follow me. Keeping yourself safe is important.

I'm really just kind of consfused to be honest? I don't know who you are, I don't even know if I follow you. As far as I'm concerned, I don't interact with you in any kind of capacity already. I haven't seen anyone really interact with my blog beyond just liking or reblogging. So it's rather confusing having these asks come out of nowhere?

And some things that higher support needs post about aren't really based on "their experiences"? Like, it's just a fact that autism is a developmental disorder. That autism is considered a disability. We haven't been given any new scientific evidence yet to say otherwise. It's also just plain fact that some autistics have more severe symptoms that occur more frequently than others. There's studies around that kind of thing too? Sure we learn new things as we go and we correct accordingly where we can.

I labelled it "discourse" because you mention the term "heavily medicalised autistic people" and also mentioned that you're "anti-psych". You can be anti-psych if you want to, and I understand some of it stems from trauma, I'm not gonna stop you. But I'm not anti-psych and at this point in my life, I will never be anti-psych.

I'm also not the one labelling you as low support needs. What you're going through sucks, for sure. I'm not going to invalidate your experiences. But I'm also not a person who is good at emotional reciprocity. So if you're looking for some empathy or support, I'm probably not the blog to be following. I'm not a person who is good at that. Never have been and probably never will be.

I don't claim to be an advocate or an activist or an authority for autism. I am just one person posting my thoughts out into the void and learning new things as I go.

I have been on this hellsite since about 2010. And with this blog specifically? I am just out here vibing with about 100 followers, some of which are probably only here for the kpop.

You curate your own experiences here. Sometimes blogs just change or you realise you don't agree with them anymore, that's a-okay. It happens.

I've no idea how to how to make this experience better for you as I've no idea what I've done wrong. So if you feel that in order to protect yourself and keep yourself safe that you need to unfollow me, then do what's best for you.

[mysterious-masked-man]

Now what I'm about to tell you sounds outrageous, and might be disturbing, but it's something that happened to me, and even though it was brief, I can't feel at peace until I tell you what's going on.

I'm a big fan of the online animated show, Epithet Erased. As such, I'm a huge peddler of fan content, indulging in other people's edits, fanart, and OCs, and creating my own. I dont share any of it, not with anyone online that I don't know. I am a good editor though, and I get asked to help edit compilations a lot by my friend, who's name I wont tell you for privacy reasons. They've asked me to edit silly little compilations out of raw material they send me, usually just of funny thing their favorite characters say.

This is the reason why I wasn't that perturbed to receive a video file over email from an unknown person. Their email was "lptnmjngaeprkfl@gmail.com", and even though it's just a bunch of random letters, I didnt think anything of it. I myself have some weirdly named emails because I like getting free trials of stuff over and over, and I only remembered the name because I copied it to include in a message to said friend, asking if they'd sent someone who needed editing my way. I didnt get a response, but I decided to open the file anyway, just to watch it and see what was up.

It looked like content I'd already seen before, and since the thumbnail was of Sylvie in the museum, I immediately recognized it as the beginning of the 3rd episode. I watched through it, and nothing really stood out. For a moment, I had thought someone really just sent me the third episode as a .MOV file. The battle between Sylvie and Giovanni and Molly began, and everything went on like normal. Right up to the part where Giovanni was batting Molly on the head with a ball of yarn, it was all how it should have been, and I laughed at the joke the same as I always did. Then, Giovanni tossed the yarn, hit it with the bat... and things started to diverge from there.

First off, the ball didnt just bounce off of Sylvie like it did in the original. He flew right off screen, and that's when I had become confused. It had already been edited, it seemed to me, so I became confused as to why it was sent to me.

Giovanni said something like "wow, that worked? I didnt think it would", and I realized I hadn't actually heard that line before, or if I had, the inflection was different. I'm autistic and this is a special interest of mine, so I've watched the whole series over again nearly a million times. I could probably recite the first episode word by word if you asked me. As the dialogue continued, it became more apparent that these were professionally recorded lines from the original voice actors.

I got really excited, thinking or hoping for a moment that it was like, a leak of some first-draft content. I didnt even think about how weird it was that it was just something I'd gotten in an email. I paused the file and tried to exit my editing program to tell my friend, but my computer wouldnt let me exit the program. It's old, so this isnt unusual. I pulled discord up on my phone to tell my friend, and that's when I'd noticed they replied to my message earlier. They told me that they hadn't told anyone my email, and to not open the file, because it was probably a virus.

I told them that I had ended up opening the file, and that it was of epithet erased, but it was different. For a while, they thought I was pulling a prank on them, but I told them it was really well done, and the voice acting was too spot on to be fan made. They *demanded* I send the clip to them when I finished watching it, and I promised them I would.

I continued playing the video, and molly and Giovanni walked over to where Sylvie had fallen over. Molly suddenly became very upset, shouting and crying. Giovanni had to drag her away. The acting was spot on, and I was seriously disturbed. I couldnt imagine what it was that made Molly react like that. Giovanni pulled her out of the room, shushing and cooing at her as she struggled and kept crying. As they left, the camera didnt move, and the music had faded. It stayed at the exact angle for another few minutes. I don't actually know how long, but I couldnt skip forward, even though I tried. Actually, I couldnt view a preview of the video when I hovered my mouse over the bar at the bottom like I usually can. I could move the mouse over the line and see it was still playing, though. I tried to pause it, but for some reason it couldnt pause anymore. I decided since nothing was happening, I could just pull out my phone and text my friend about it.

I told them about all that I had seen so far, and they told me it might have been an original storyline that was just way too dark. Then I asked them why it was sent to me. They said they didnt know. I set my phone down, and looked back up at the computer, then froze.

Because I was staring at my phone, I missed it, but there was a clip of Sylvie on the ground. It was a sprite that was unlike his usual slouch/laying down sprite. This was about the time I knew something really fucked up was going on.

The ball of yarn had lodged itself into sylvie's eye. I could see the glass had broken, and the yarn ball was seriously deep in his face. Glass stuck out of his eye socket and his cheek, and blood dripped down his face, pooling down the sides. His head was also tipped back a little, and with the blood seeping into his hair and up his head, the back of his head must've split open, too. There was a dragging mark down the wall, and the origin point was a huge red splatter where he probably got thrown into the wall.

The sprite wasn't static like they normally are. Sylvie shivered and his chest would rise and fall with his shaky breath. I was honestly grossed out by how far this had gone, but it was like I couldnt stop watching. I knew it wouldnt pause anyway. I was too scared to message my friend, because I thought it might change again.

It might have gone on for another minute, just Sylvie breathing and bleeding, until he just stopped. There was no sudden flail, no cough or sputter, he just stopped breathing, and there was no more shuddering. After he stopped, it only took a few seconds for things to start happening. The flames started up again, like they did when he used nightmare fuel on molly, and the fire alarm went off. It cut right to Mera panicking about the fire alarm, and hitting indus with a crowbar.

I was so jarred by how this became normal again, I actually didnt believe it had happened for a second. I didnt believe they would just... kill a character like that. I didnt know what was going on.

Things didnt stay the same though. Before Mera could even find the amulet, Molly and Giovanni ran into the room. Molly looked shocked to the core, and Giovanni was really panicky. Mera made Indus apprehend them both. Indus went on his whole spiel about barriers, but Giovanni and Molly never finished the punchline. He did eventually trap them, and Mera found the amulet. She admired it, and put it on. As she walked towards Molly, Giovanni tried to escape his containment to stop her, but Molly actually looked more panicked when he called out to her. Mera extended her hand, and lifted Molly up.

The sound cut out for the next few moments, but you could tell a really awful noise alerted all 4 of them, and it must have been loud, because the screen shook. The camera panned over to the entrance, which had been blocked by rubble. The roof caved in, trapping everyone inside of he storage area. The sound returned, and there was audio of molly crying, but her sprite wasn't matched up to that audio. It moved as if she was speaking, and characters would reply, but her crying would be playing over it.

The room filled with white fire, and the fluid animation that usually appears at the end of arcs began. Mera, Indus, Giovanni, and Molly were all silhouetted by the fire, but the focus was on a figure that walked through the flames. It was obviously Sylvie. As he was illuminated though, you could see he was different. It was as if he had been grayscale. His skin was white, the clouds and decoration on his coat and pants that would have been teal were all dark gray, and everything else was varying shades of gray. His hoodie and his glasses, however, were red. One eye was red with a black sclera, and drooped. The other was pure black, and the glass of the glasses were cracked. Blood dripped from that eye, and from his mouth. The back of his hair was adorned with a ring of red.

You remember how I said there was audio of Molly crying overlapping everything else? When sylvie appeared, it stopped for just a second, and then grew more panicked. It was loud enough to drown everything out, and I couldnt hear what anyone else was saying. Molly just sobbed and screamed. There wasn't even any music, just that. Sylvie didnt say anything. He just stood as the flames grew closer to the four.

Indus shouted something, then ran at Sylvie. Before he could reach him, there was a spark of red dust, and he stopped. The back of his head exploded, and he fell forward. Another track of molly crying began playing over the current one. Mera looked around for a quick escape, but I guess she just got too panicked, and she ran right into the flame. She fell down in it, and i could see her silhouette burning and clawing at her skin, which was flaking off in the fire. Yet another track of molly screaming and crying played over the two, and it was beginning to get discordant.

Giovanni brandished his soul slugger doom back, taking a step back. His eyes filled with tears, watching as Sylvie approached. His grip on the bat tightened and it shook as an extension of himself. Giovanni let go of the bat and fell to the floor on his knees.

All the tracks of Molly crying cut off as Sylvie reached down, and picked up the bat. Giovanni bowed his head, and Sylvie threw the bat to Molly. Her eyes full of tears and her gaze averted, she picked up the bat and swung it down hard over Giovanni's head. There were a few frames where the bat collided with the back of his head, but then the screen went black. The audio continued to play. I didnt catch a lot of what was happening, because I began to feel this awful pain in my neck that caught my attention.

At first, it wasnt very specific. It was just an ache at the very top of my spine, like I'd been sitting funny. I heard molly crying again, and crackling fire. Then the pain got worse, and there were police sirens. The last thing I really heard clearly was percival reporting something to her radio, about being at the scene and finding the body of "an adolescent boy" in the museum, which I assumed to be Sylvie. The pain became unbearable - it was like someone was driving a nail into the base of by neck. I closed my eyes. I couldnt see the video anymore, anyway. As I focused on the feeling, I realized it was becoming more specific. My breathing cut short, and at first I thought I was having a panic attack, but it became more apparent that there was a pressure on my neck, like a hand squeezing my throat harder and harder, nails digging into my skin.

I lurched forward and turned my computer off. Once it was off, the feeling vanished, leaving a small ache in my throat. I coughed and wheezed, and the actual panic attack began to set in. I turned my swivel chair, expecting to see someone behind me, since it felt distinctly like I had been choked, but nobody was there. I grabbed my phone and fell onto the couch, hiding under a blanket as I fell deeper into a panic attack.

Once I was calm (or once it was over, anyway), I messages my friend and told them about what happened. They didnt actually believe any of it, and they thought I had been pranking them. I swore up and down that it was real, and I still do, but they demanded proof. So I had to turn my computer back on.

I got the courage to turn it on again about half an hour later. The file was no longer open, because the program closed when I turned my computer off. I tried to open it again, but I got an error box titled "Oops! An error has occured", and the box read "you weren't supposed to see this." When I checked the email again to download it and send it to my friend, I'd gotten a response from Lptnmjngaeprkfl that just read "sorry. That wasnt for you. Don't watch it again okay? I'm so sorry." No matter how many times I tried to message Lptnmjngaeprkfl I never got a response, and every time i downloaded the .mov file, it wouldnt open. If i tried to send it to my friend, it would crash my phone or computer, and the message would never send.

To this day, I'm still not really sure what I saw. I kind of wondered if it was possible for some other people to contact the creator and see if they would respond. I got my friend to message them, but they didnt respond at all. I'm hoping they respond to someone. Please, message lptnmjngaeprkfl@gmail.com and tell me what you find out.

[jising-jisang-jisung]

P.JS - Royal!au

Genre: royal!au, servant!jisung princess!reader ft. prince!jaemin, angst

Word count: 3.1k (dont know how I did that)

a/n: okay so this is my first time trying out a royal!au so I hope it's okay 😅 ngl I kinda like it so I might write more royal!dream... also sorry this is angst i just couldnt make it fluffy without being overly cliche and gross

A soft tap on your door steals your attention away from the seams on your bedsheets. “Miss y/n?” your servant’s voice calls.

“Come in,” you reply, maintaining all formalities through the barrier of the door, knowing that your guard is there, and will report any nonsense to your father, the king.

Your door creaks open as Jisung walks in, holding a giant tray in his hands.

“Sungie!” you call as soon as the door is closed. “Did you do it like I told you to?” you question eagerly.

“Well of course, y/n/n.”

“Yes! There’s enough for us to share!” you cheer, looking at the food your servant, who doubles as your best friend, had brought you. “Open,” you instruct him. He does as you command, opening his mouth for you to feed him the peach slice tangling from your fork. “Is it good?” you bite your lip, salivating over the fresh fruit.

Jisung nods excitedly, taking a seat next to you. “Your turn,” he nearly spits since he barely even chewed his piece before speaking. He holds out a slice for you to eat, but as you are about to snatch it, he pulls back to eat it himself.

“Hey,” you playfully smack his arm. He gives you a bashful smile before holding out another slice, and letting you eat it this time. 

“Miss y/n?” and a knock on your door results in Jisung jumping off of his perch on your bed and you grabbing the food to move to your table.

“Come in,” you call after the two of you look like a normal Princess and servant and not a couple of goofy friends.

Another servant boy, Chenle, walks into your room. “Your father wishes to see you. He has urgent news,” he tells you bowing as he moves to exit.

“Wait! Do you happen to know what it might be about?”

The boy grins at you. He was also one of your good friends since you were all about the same age and had grown up in the castle together, but unlike Jisung, Chenle wasn’t your servant. Fortunately, however, since he was able to spend his time all around the castle, he was able to get the gossip on everything. 

“Well,” he starts. Jisung and you move back to your previous seats now that the coast is clear. “From what I heard, there is another King and Queen visiting. And, if rumors are true, they have a son.” At first you’re very confused. What would another monarch have concerned with you? “But you should really leave now, he specifically said it was urgent, your highness.”

You walk quickly through the halls, enjoying the sound of your shoes hitting the tiles. You would rather run, to make up for the lost time talking with Chenle, but you aren’t supposed to, as a princess and all, it is considered unmannerly.

As you walk into the main hall, you see both of your parents as well as the familiar looking King and Queen of a nearby kingdom. And of course you couldn’t miss the boy standing next to them. While you had never met the prince before, you were certainly taken aback by his looks.

“y/n, it appears you have a suitor,” your father announces, looking proudly at the handsome boy.

“y/n, nice to meet you,” he bows. “My name is Jaemin.”

“The pleasure is mine, Jaemin,” you repeat his name, doing a curtsy of your own.

“Why don’t the two of you take a walk through the gardens as we talk?” your mother suggests. You nod and lead the way out to the back of the castle to the large garden. It was late enough that all the other workers would be done with work, leaving just you and the prince.

The two of you talk about more shallow things, getting to know about favorite colors, animals, or other useless information. You laugh along at his jokes, and find yourself swooning over his charming personality and even more charming smile.

“y/n,” his voice changes, indicating a more serious discussion. “I know you might not want to marry me. You don’t love me, well, you barely even know me. But please take some time to consider my proposal as I’ll be visiting for the rest of the week. While this marriage might be more about our parents bringing together our kingdoms, we can learn to love each other and live happy lives.”

You nod along, staying quiet to allow the boy to finish his speech. “Of course, I will consider it, Prince Jaemin,” you offer a smile to show sincerity. “It appears to be getting late. I wish you a good night,” you say before speeding off towards your bedroom.

Little did you know, your friend was watching you from the window of his quarters. Unable to hear the conversations, he watches as you laughed with the handsome prince, wishing that it was him you looked at like that.

In your room, you lied down on your bed, the springs squeaking with your sudden plunge. You were overwhelmed with odd feelings of guilt in your head, but also in your heart. For some reason you couldn’t figure out why you felt that way. There was nothing wrong with marrying Prince Jaemin; it’s what your father would want. It didn’t bother you that the marriage was political and not for love, that wasn’t the issue.

“Miss y/n,” Jisung’s voice hums outside your door.

“Come in,” you instruct.

The boy slides through your door and there it is. That’s where your feelings are coming from. It’s not that you don’t love Prince Jaemin; it’s that you do love Jisung. He seems to not notice your crisis as he continues on as usual. Well, not quite usual, as he seems more quiet and down at the moment.

“So, how’d it go?” he looks up at you. You immediately look away, your emotions for the boy suddenly making you shy.

“Well,” you tell him, afraid to admit how you really feel.

“That is… good,” he falters, hoping you didn’t catch the way he paused.

“Yes.” It is as though you two are the strangers here, as neither one of you are able to articulate yourselves. 

“Well,” Jisung clears his throat. “Is there anything I can do for you before you sleep?” He asks, following his duties as your personal servant. You wish he was asking as a friend instead. Even if he is your best friend, you know he only asks because it is his job.

“Yes, actually,” you nod. “Can you sing for me?” It was something Jisung hadn’t done in years. When you were kids, he’d sing as you fell asleep, or if you were frightened by a storm or just loud noises in the castle. Unconsciously, you smile as you reminisce on the old times. When was it that you fell in love with the servant boy? You aren’t exactly sure, but at least you know now.

“Yes, of course,” Jisung breaks you out of your thoughts with his voice.

“Wait,” you interrupt him before he can even begin. “Let me put on my pajamas first, so you can sing me to sleep like old times, okay?”

“Of course, y/n/n, I’ll just be outside your door while you change.”

Only a few moments later you okay his return, being that you changed as quickly as you could, not wanting to wait another minute to hear Jisung’s voice. You hoped it was as melodious as it was before puberty when his voice literally dropped like 10 octaves.

He walks in as you settle back under your covers. Sitting at the edge of your bed he asks you, "what would you like me to sing for you?"

"Do you remember the song from when we were kids?" He nods in response, beginning the familiar tune. You're not sure how, but his voice sounds even better now than it did back then. It almost makes you wonder why he's a servant boy instead of a performer. You close your eyes as he continues to sing softly, not quite asleep but also not quite awake. 

"Sweet dreams, princess," he whispers at the end of the song. He brings his hand up to brush a few stray strands of hair out of your face when you flutter your eyes open. "Ahhh, you're not asleep?!" He jumps in surprise, retracting his hand from you. But you were quicker than he, holding onto his wrist and placing his delicate touch back to your cheek.

"Sungie?"

"Yes, y/n/n."

"Do you think I should just marry Prince Jaemin?"

"I don't think I can answer that for you, y/n."

"Ji, I don't care if you're a servant or a prince. You're my best friend, and your opinion matters to me. I'm just worried," you whisper, trying your best to blink away the wetness in your eyes that threatens to overflow. "What if I make the wrong choice?" His heart nearly breaks seeing you so worried.

"I don't think there is a wrong choice. Just do what you think is right. You know, in your heart or whatever," he laughs at the mention of the cliche phrase.

"I don't think I can do that," you admit, offering no further explanation.

"What do you mean?"

"Because of who I am. Because the king is my father. I don't think I can do what my heart wants," a tear spills from the outer corner of your eye, but before it can make its path Jisung has already wiped it away with his finger.

"You should worry about this another time," he decides. "For now, you should get some sleep."

"Sungie?"

"Yes, y/n/n?"

"Will you stay, please?"

"Okay, but you have to promise to actually fall asleep this time," he warns you with a false, stern tone. You giggle at his antics but it dies down as he starts the song again and you drift into a far away dream.

The following morning your servant goes to wake you up as usual. He knocks on your door, waiting for the okay to enter. When it doesn't come, he cracks the door slightly to peer in. He spots you on your bed, snoring, still asleep in your dreamland.

"Y/n," he calls softly, not wanting to startle you. At no avail, he decides to enter in. Placing a hand to your shoulder, he shakes you as gently as possible. Unfortunately, you react by jolting awake and grabbing his arm violently, causing Jisung to fall on top of you.

"Princess, are you okay?" He asks loudly as the two of you look at each other with wide eyes and shocked expressions.

"Yes, yes," you catch your breath, suddenly aware of the close proximity of the boy on top of you, as well as the appearance of how this situation presents itself to any bystanders. Jisung picks up on this and quickly gets off of you while not letting go of your hold on him. "You just surprised me is all."

"You didn't have a bad dream, did you?"

"No, not at all," you grin, thinking back to your dream of running away with the boy you loved and being able to live a simple, happy life.

"You know, you should go to sleep earlier so this doesn't happen," he scolds you in a joking manner, interrupting your thoughts and bringing you back to reality. "Regardless, breakfast is ready, and do remember that we have guests, including your suitor."

You thank him as you make yourself presentable for the visiting family and prepare yourself for the war you're about to dive into with your parents.

"Mother," you speak after everyone had finished their meal. "May I discuss something with you?"

You excuse yourselves and head to an empty hall to talk.

"Mother,  I do not wish to marry Prince Jaemin," you tell her.

"Why? He is a perfectly good young man and if you turn him away, there might not be another suitor of his worth!"

"Because I do not love him," you try to explain but she cuts you off.

"Y/n, you need to think about this more seriously. This will affect everyone, so you must be wise about it."

"Mother, I love Jisung, I wish to marry him," you admit.

She gasps at your nonsensical confession. "The servant boy? Are you trying to ruin the kingdom?" She holds the bridge of her nose in frustration. "No more talk about this right now. We'll discuss this later, but please reconsider your affection for the prince."

She storms away, absolutely appalled by your suggestion. You run the other way, toward your bedroom. You don't care about the possibility of getting scolded for running as tears quickly make their way down your cheeks. Even after you've closed the door, they refuse to let up. 

As you sob into your pillow, there's a familiar tap at your door. "Miss y/n?" Jisung asks.

"Go away," you cry.

"Princess, are you alright?" You hate that you make him sound so worried. You hate that you're in love with a boy that you cannot be with.

"Go away," you repeat yourself, hearing his footsteps become more distant as you begin to despise the sound of the shoes hitting the tile floors.

You pull a pillow over your face and continue your outburst. It feels as though your tears will go on forever in endless sorrow. Until another knock sounds outside your door.

"Princess, I brought you some tea," you hear your best friend's muffled voice call out.

"Jisung please, just go-"

Blatantly ignoring your orders, he waltzes right into your room, stopping you mid sentence. 

"Y/n, what happened?" That disgusted feeling of hatred returns as you hear the worry dripping from his voice.

You open your mouth to explain, but only loud sobs escape your lips. Jisung instantly puts down the tray of tea and wraps you in a hug. "I don't want to marry the prince."

"Well if that's what you-"

"I want to marry you!" You cut him off, but refuse to let him go. You're afraid that if you release your hold on him, he'll reject you or leave. 

"But, princess," he starts. There it is, the coldness of your unfortunate situation. Reality hits you in the side of the head like a stone. You're a princess and he's a servant.

Tightening your grip on his sleeves, you admit your feelings for him. "I don't love Prince Jaemin. Jisung, I love you."

"I- I love you too, y/n," he whispers, rubbing his hands soothingly down your back as you slowly stop crying.

You finally pull away, looking at him through- now dry- puffy, red eyes. Jisung grabs either side of your face and slowly leans in, giving you enough time to recoil in favor of not doing what you're about to do. Much to his liking, you meet him halfway, pressing a long kiss to his lips. You allow yourself to revel in the bliss that is your lips on Jisung's, before you have to pull away to catch your breath.

"Let's just run away," you say, impulsively. 

"Okay," he exhales, not a care in the world for anything but you. "I'll meet you here at midnight, yeah?"

You nod. "I'll be waiting," you mumble against his lips as the two of you dive back into one another.

The rest of the day passes slowly. Jaemin continues his attempt to court you as your mother watches over you like a hawk. Her judgmental eyes follow your every move closely.

Finally, the day is closing and the servants return to their quarters to rest. The castle falls asleep, all except for you as you wait impatiently for the boy you love to come. You check the time to see midnight has long passed and begin to fret. Had Jisung fallen asleep. Had he left without you? You push that thought out of your mind, Jisung wouldn't do that. But a worse idea creeps into your brain. Had Jisung gotten caught?

You stare at your ceiling, wanting to cry. But you feel as though you've had enough crying these past few days and settle on slowly worrying yourself to sleep.

The seemingly regular knock on your door wakes you up in the morning. You desperately wait to hear Jisung's voice call your name from behind the door, to let you know that breakfast is ready, and that he is okay.

"Y/n," the voice calls. Your heart drops as the door opens, revealing the queen.

"Where's Jisung?" You ask as your heart races with stress.

She sighs, closing her eyes to emphasize her distaste with your behavior. "He's gone."

"What do you mean 'he's gone?'" With each passing second you can feel your heart break more and more.

"We wouldn't want him to interfere with your affections for Prince Jaemin," she begins to explain.

"Where is he?" You ask through gritted teeth. Your overwhelmed with anger towards your mother as she carelessly avoids your question.

"Your father and I have decided that you will be marrying the prince," she informs you, not an ounce of remorse in her tone. "And breakfast is ready, so hurry up. The prince is waiting."

As underground as you can be, you ask everyone about your missing servant. Even your go to gossip boy, Chenle, hasn't heard or seen from him all day. As far as the castle is concerned, he no longer exists.

For the rest of the day, you put on a happy mask, not letting anyone see you falter as the preparations for your engagement ceremony begin. Your false exterior only falls once you're alone, behind the closed door of your room. It is then that you realize you cannot blame anyone else.

This was your fault.

If only you hadn't devised that stupid plan. Jisung would still be here and maybe you could have convinced him to bring your favorite servant along. But, even then, you're not his, you're Jaemin's. But maybe the prince was right. Maybe you can learn to love him. But somewhere deep down you know that's not true. You already gave your heart along with your first kiss to your best friend, the servant boy.

[fipindustries]

my experience with my gender and my sexuality

because i think it is about fucking time i talk about this somewhere. this is a cheerful post, intimate sure, way too oversharing, certainly, but i like to think of it as joyous sharing because i feel like i can finally talk about this stuff freely and gosh ive been keeping so many things on the inside and now i just want to shout them to the world, consequences be damned

for years i have fantasized about becoming a woman. i will say it here now: i want to be a woman, i want to try it, i want to know what is like to look like one, to dress like one, to be called one, to be treated as one. if after a while i get bored of it, or tired or figure out its not my true self, or it just doesnt fit me for whatever reason then i reserve the right to back off and try something else. but for now this is my state of being and im going to share the story of how i got here.

my earliest memories of dealing with this confusion are about me reading a magazine talking about trans issues and me watching the movie “ma vie en rose” and “boys dont cry”. i was too young perhaps to be exposed to these ideas in such a candid and direct way. perhaps not mature enough to fully process or understand what i had seen, to the point that for most of my childhood i had this irrational fear that i would become a woman when i hit puberty. that my dick would just shrink into a vagina, that i would start growing tits, that i would get pregnant, etc.

i was a very unmasculine child, i didnt like sports, in fact i didnt like most typically boyish stuff. i thought muscles where gross, i thought violence and fighting was scary. i thought most boys played too rough for my taste. i was meek, shy, and a huge nerd. but i also had a strange rejection for most girly stuff. it was too soft and frilly and silly and pink and yucky. on top of all that, my understanding of trans people was mostly shaped then by drag queens and outrageous transvestites whose aesthetic, to this day, i find garish, over the top and unpleasant to look at. sorry, is just not something i identify with.

during this time i started to engage in all sorts of strange games as a child. i would start trying on my sister’s panties or my mom’s panties in the shower. i would created these elaborate scenarios where i would have all the stuffed toys in my room “kidnap” me, force me to give birth to them and then breast feed them.

cartoon shows that dealt with themes of gender bending held a powerful fascination to me, i particularly remember the fairly odd parents episode “the boy who would be queen”. i had this strange sense of love-hate relationship with it and anything on that topic where i just couldnt help to be obssessed with it but at the same time feel like it was illicit or transgressive for me to watch it.

then i hit puberty and a light switch went off. where instead of being scared or unnerved by those ideas i just kept obssessing more and more over them. i started googling everything i could about gender bending, about gynecomastia, about how to grow breasts with certain herbs or supplements. it was specifically on the breasts that i was fixated, i kept promissing myself that i would get them no matter what.

at the same time on the outside i was more than comfortable presenting myself as a boy, a geeky boy sure, but a boy all the same. i liked wearing high waisted pants, tucked in shirt and tie. i liked having short hair. i fantasized about growing a mustache. what’s more i definetly identified as a boy. i went to an all boy’s high school where we were taught stereotipicaly male things like working with heavy machinery, welding, general workshop engeneering stuff and i enjoyed all of it. i was still a huge outcast and not the manliest person but back then i figured it was because i was just a huge nerd.

i had no rejection of my body or the changes it was going through, i grew hair, limbs, genitals, etc and didnt thought much of it that i can recall, beyond a vague sense of not wanting to look too adult because it made me look too much like my dad, with whom i never had the best of relationships. beyond that socially i was a boy and had no issues fitting there.

i masturbated a lot, and a lot of those fantasies involved gender bending. usually boys growing breasts, boys being subjected to forced feminization, etc. there were other fantasies but those dont have a lot of bearing on the subject at hand. one of the things that excited me the most back then was to call myself a woman. to insist over and over that i was a girl. like the feeling that i was brainwashing myself into femminity was a huge turn on (this is why for the longest time i was convinced i was an autogynephile, and honestly, jury’s still out on that account). then, as soon as i finished i would quickly tell myself “im not a woman” as a strange way of “no homo” myself from my fantasies. i was still doing ocassional crossdressing whenever i was alone at home with my mom’s clothes, again, usually for the purposes of masturbation

i have been attracted to girls for the large majority of my life, it wouldnt be until college that i would experiment with boys too and found that i could enjoy that as well, but my main interest has always been consistently girls. yet a lot of the time my attraction towards girls would come from a place of envy. of apreciating how pretty they looked and wishing i could look that pretty myself. once i started college most of these fantasies came with me, i kept researching about gender bending and about ways i could try to gender bend myself. some times it was because of fetishistic reasons but a lot of the time was because i just found the subject inherently fascinating. it was like this that i came across a lot of information about trans people, back in like 2011 and when i first started to really understand them as a community and grapple with concepts such a gender dysphoria and such. back then i reached the conclussion that while i understood and sympathized with trans women, i was just a crossdresser because i didnt experience gender dysphoria and because i had never experienced anything even close to the feeling of “being a woman on the inside”.

what was more, it was around this time that identity politics really started to get traction, things like “die cis scum”, “yes all men”, “white men tears” etc started to be thrown around and, as someone who had been identifying as male for his entire life, i felt personally attacked by most of it. an immature reaction on hindsight, but a reaction that cemented in my mind the idea that i was a man and there were no buts or ifs about it.

i kept crossdressing, i kept fantasizing, i kept fetishizing. i even experiemented with auto hypnosis because i was realizing more and more that i was never going to be able to truly make my fantasy about becoming a woman real so was was willing to try anything that would get me even close to it. i cross dressed because i liked the way i looked, i liked the way the clothes felt against my skin, i liked the feeling of trying on a different role, one that was forbidden to me. as time went on i stated doing it less and less because of the sexual gratification and more for its own sake.

then the crisis came.

i wrote about this before, i saw a bunch of people i knew coming out of the closet at an advanced age, people like jacob chapman, the wachowsky sisters, even reading about the story of how allison bechdel. the idea of someone figuring out their identity way into their adulthood shattered my world view and it introduced me the possibility that i might be in the same situation, which led me to panic. all the crossdressing, the fascination with gender bending and with trans issues were strongly suggestive if nothing else, but back then i was just not ready at all to confront those possibilities so i supressed like a mad man.

three years later, here i am. during those three years i slowly and gradually came to grips the possibility, slowly losing my fear of what i might lose if i came out of the closet, slowly examining my self and comparing my story with the story of others in the community. finding differences but also finding a lot of similarities. for the longest time my trans ex girlfriend would insist that i was very much not trans because a lot of my experiences were very different from hers, such as the fact that i never had issues inhabiting the rol of a boy whereas her dysphoria had been strong enough to the point of suicidal tendencies for most of her life.

one of my biggest concerns had always been the fact that i had heard from many trans people that their dysphoria hadnt really kicked in until after they started transitioning. as in, once they started trying to look like women then they realized how far away they were from truly being one, making what until then had been a vague feeling of discomfort into a true rejection of their own body. but then on the other hand there was also the real possibility that i would end up having a mental breakdown once i hit my fifties after years of repression and by that point i would look like just an old man in a wig

i think what finally made me tip over the edge were the contra points videos and the reddit community egg_irl. i just identified too much with what i saw there, and breaking up with my gf had left me free to explore those feelings without fear of ruining my relationship. so where does that leave me?

still confused, but no longer scared of the answers. willing to give this and honest go and see where it takes me. im still not ready to call myself a trans girl with all the letters. i understand that gender is complicated but i would really appreciate a unified theory of gender to help me make heads or tails of what i am and what i am feeling beyond vague notions about “the spectrum” and “social roles”. i guess i could be considered gender fluid as of right now but honestly that label doesnt mean that much to me on a practical sense considering i am still presenting my self as a boy in my every day life with one or two exceptions

i have a lot of work ahead of me and for once i am excited about doing it right.

[thetravelerwrites]

Daughters (A Stranger Things Drabble)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Fandom: Stranger Things Words: 1855

One of my few non-terato related stories, about a year and a half old. This is a stand alone fic about Hopper showing Eleven the birth certificate from Dr. Owens and explaining what it means. Hopper opens up about his lost daughter, Sara. Feedback is appreciated.

Eleven sat on the couch covered in a thick blanket, watching a particularly old western that made very little sense to her, when she heard the special knock on the door.

Without taking her eyes off of the T.V., she reached out mentally and snapped open the four slide locks and the deadbolt with little effort. She heard Hopper enter the cabin, tap his boots against the door frame, and shut the door, though she didn’t turn to look at him. He had gone on his off-day without telling her why, and that, in her experience, was never a good thing. She was a little apprehensive to learn what exactly he’d been up to while he was away.

He stepped around the couch to turn the T.V. off and then sat down beside her, laying two envelopes on the coffee table. One was slim and white, and the second was big, brown, and overflowing.

“What’s that?” Eleven asked, nodding her head at them.

He didn’t answer right away. He sat hunched forward with his elbows on his knees, rubbing his mustache with his right hand, looking down at the brown envelope.

“I went to see Dr. Owens today,” Hopper mumbled from behind his hand.

Eleven’s heart rate accelerated in alarm.

“Bad man,” Eleven said in a nervous whisper.

“Nah, he ain’t all bad,” Hopper said. “He had something for me. Well, it’s for both of us, actually.” He reached for the white envelope and handed it to her. She took it gingerly.

Opening it, she pulled out a blue paper with writing she didn’t understand. “‘Cert…certificate of birth?’ What does that mean?”

“It’s a paper the parents get when a baby is born. Then when that baby gets old enough, they keep it. It’s proof.”

“Proof of what?”

“Life. Existence.” Hopper turned to her. “It shows who your parents are, where you came from.“ He pointed. “It’s also got a social security number.”

“What’s that for?”

“In American, you have to have a social security number to do just about anything. Go to school, get a job, etc. That number is your whole life.”

She frowned at the digits on the page, then the ones on her arm. “Another number.”

“Yeah,” Hopper laughed. “We all got ‘em, kid. I guess most of us are lucky that it’s not our name, too.” He jerked his chin at the paper. “Keep reading.”

“‘This certifies that in the state of Indiana, Jane Hop…’” She looked up at him. “Hopper?”

He nodded solemnly.

“‘Was born in Hawkins, child of Teresa Ives, Mother, and James Hopper… Father.” She looked back at him and lowered the paper, though still clutched it in her fingers. “I don’t understand. What does this mean?”

“Means it’s official,” Hopper said. “We’re family. You’re kinda stuck with me now. Sorry ‘bout that.”

She shook her head, but didn’t say anything. She was feeling a lot of things she hadn’t experienced before and couldn’t properly name, and was having difficulty sorting through them. She stared hard at the paper for a few minutes. Hopper watched her quietly; he seemed to be giving her space to process all this and room to react. Perhaps preparing for a storm, if she wasn’t happy about the arrangement.

After a few minutes, she folded the paper again and gave it back, which he placed on the table next to the large brown envelope.

“What is that?” She asked.

Again, he didn’t answer immediately, and when he did, it was with a very heavy sigh.

“Well... since we’re family now, I figured I should introduce you two.”

He reached into the brown envelope and pulling out everything that was inside it. There were drawings, old elementary work sheets, coloring pages, but most of it was pictures. Sifting through, he extracted a photograph of a small, blonde-haired, blue-eyed child, wearing a frilly blue dress, smiling widely. Her curly hair was pulled up into two pigtails with aqua blue bands.

“Is that Sara?” Eleven asked tentatively.

Hopper nodded. “This was her first grade class photo. Just a month or two before everything went to shit.” He found another photo, in this one, Hopper was sitting with Sara and a blonde haired, blue-eyed woman who strongly resembled Sara. Hopper was clean-shaven in the picture, and they were all smiling.

Eleven pointed to the woman.

“That’s Diane,” Hopper said. “We were married. Then Sara died. Then we weren’t married anymore.”

“Why?”

“My fault mostly,” Hopper said, staring at the picture. “She wanted to move on, try and get her life back, but I couldn’t let go. I started drinkin’, lost my job because I stopped showing up, all kinds of things that she quite understandably didn’t want to deal with. I wouldn’t have wanted to deal with me, either.”

“Where is she?”

“Philadelphia. She got remarried a few years ago, had herself a new little baby boy. She’s doing good. She’s happy.”

He reached into the pile of papers and drew out another certificate, like the one Hopper got from Owens, but from a different state. The name on the top line was “Sara.”

“She’d be your sister,” He said, staring at the type font as though he couldn’t see anything else. “She’d have loved a sister.”

The emotions that had been swirling in Eleven’s body had settled, and of the remaining ones, the most prominent was sorrow. “What was she like?”

Hopper’s chin shook, and she thought he might not be able to talk about it, but he said, “She was so smart. Smarter than me. Got it from her mom, I guess. She’s so interested in science and space and all that stuff.” He plucked at the aqua blue bracelet around his wrist. A tear fell from his eye and disappeared into his beard.

“She was gonna grow up to be a paleontologist and also an astronaut doctor. Not an astronaut that was also a doctor, a doctor that only treated astronauts.“ He smiled. “She was gonna have thirty kids, but she wasn’t gonna get married cause boys were gross. She was going to do so many things.” More tears fell, and he wiped his nose on his sleeve. “She never got the chance to do anything.”

Emotions can be infectious, especially when the person exhibiting them was so stoic and self-contained ordinarily. Eleven could feel tears on her own cheeks as Hopper spoke.

“Her birthday was April 17th,” He said. “She would have been seven if she had made it that long. She nearly made it.” The tears were falling freely now. He didn’t even attempt to wipe them away. Eleven wondered if he had ever said these things to anyone. She knew vaguely that most people in town didn’t even know he had had a daughter.

“A few months after, I came home and Diane was packing up Sara’s room. Just pulling down everything and stuffing it into boxes. I asked what she was doing… and she said she was donating it. That she couldn’t stand looking at it all every day. And I got so… angry. It was like she was just throwing her away and I couldn’t believe she could do that. I over-did it a little; I yelled a lot, started throwing things. That’s when she kicked me out for the last time. That,” He pointed to the pile. “Was all I managed to save. That’s all that’s left of Sara.

“Well,” He said, “That and this.” He pulled the bracelet off of his wrist and toyed with it a little. ”She used to wear these stretchy blue hair bands, like, every day. She had all kinds of different bows and hair things she could’ve worn, but she always wanted these.

“One day, while she was on chemo, she pulled them out so she could take a bath, and all her hair came with them. After that, she couldn’t wear them anymore. I was going to throw them away, but she made them into a little bracelet and had me wear it. She said she wanted to save them for when her hair grew back.”

His face crumpled. Holding the little blue bracelet in both hands, he pressed it against his forehead and wept.

Eleven pulled herself up to her knees and hugged Hopper around the shoulders, crying into his neck. They stayed that way for some time.

When Eleven drew back, inexplicably, the blue bracelet was now circling her wrist. She looked at Hopper questioningly as she reached to pull it off.

He stopped her. “No, you should have it,” He said. “She’d want you to have it. I want you to have it, too. We’re family now.”

She smiled and her lip quivered. She nodded and looked at the bracelet. A tenuous connection to a sister she’d never meet. She looked at the two certificated on the table.

“Sara was your daughter,” Eleven said slowly, carefully. “Does this mean that I am, too?”

“Yeah,” He said, regaining composure. “That’s exactly what that paper means. You’re my daughter. I’m your dad. Officially.”

“Just officially?” Eleven said.

Hopper shook his head. “No, not just officially. If you want, it could be for real.”

“For real,” Eleven repeated. “Not like Papa.”

“No, not like Papa,” Hopper said seriously. “I know he wanted you to call him that, but was there ever a time when he called you his daughter? Treated you like a dad is supposed to?”

Eleven shook her head emphatically.

“No, because he doesn’t even know what it means. I doubt he’s ever really loved anything. Certainly not you.” Hopper looked down at the two certificates. “I loved Sara. And I love you, too, kid.”

Eleven had never once in her entire life heard those words. The swirl of emotions was back, but this time, the most out-standing one was joy. Incapable of speech, all she could do was smile and cry.

Hopper reached out an arm and Eleven hugged him around the middle, resting her head on his chest. He squeezed her tight with both arms and planted a peck on the top of her head. After some time had passed, they let go of each other, but she took his hand and held it. They both needed the comfort of touch right then.

Eleven dared to picked up a drawing and asked Hopper what it meant. He told her it was supposed to be a dog-velociraptor, laughing. It went on like this for several hours: Eleven would choose something from the pile, and Hopper would explain what it was; tell little, loving stories about Sara’s brief life, and then he would put it back into the envelope.

When they had gone through the entirety of the pictures and papers, all that was left were the two certificates sitting side by side on the table. The only thing they had in common was the line, “James Hopper: Father.” He folded them and put them both in the brown envelope and sealed it. This wasn’t just old memories anymore. It was proof, just like Hopper had said. The love of a man for his daughters.

Since my work is no longer searchable, please do me a favor and reblog this story if you enjoyed it. Help me reach a wider audience! To help me continue creating, please consider buying me a Kofi, becoming a Patron, or donating directly to my PayPal!

Thanks for reading!

My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

[mywildloves]

So, let me give you guys an idea of whats been going on since I was active on a daily basis here. 

Ive finally admitted to myself that the fact that I lost my job was my fault. I developed a severe mental illness due a multitude of factors I had no control over, but, my illness and the therapy got in the way of my job performance, and my presence in the lab. Its like, yeah I didnt expect my brain to decompose and I certainly didnt know how to deal with that, but at the same time the responsibility of trying to do the very best I could was mine. And I didnt. And thats why Im here. I carry a lot of guilt about it.

Being unemployed for this long has been really scary. Ive been out of work since June and Ive only had two interviews and nothings come out of them. I have a feeling that no one in NYC will take me because they all know my boss and they dont want him to think theyve “poached” me from his lab. That was one of the concerns that a woman from one institution had. She said she still had to keep up a relationship with the members of the microscopy community, and didnt want my employment with her to cause a deterioration of the relationship she has with my former lab. Could be bullshit, maybe hiring me is a risk... and its hard to know that that fact IS my fault. That I should have handled the therapy and the effect of my mental illness more professionally. They call me because Im qualified, but then they wont take me because of where I used to work. I feel like either I need to move to a new state, or change professions. I love microscopy though. I do. I want to stay there. I want to contribute to the knowledge. I want to be part of the effort. Science excites me.  

Theres one job that Im still waiting on, and its the one I REALLY REALLY WANT, but I havent gotten much of a response to the few emails Ive sent. Im showing them that Im enthusiastic about the position without being overbearing and irritating. I sent the guy I interviewed with a “thank you for your time” email, like youre supposed to. And then I sent him an email with a few questions, since he said it would be understandable that after the interview I might have some questions that didnt come to mind during the interview. No answer. Then I emailed his assistant to see if the position had been filled and she said that nothing has happened with that position that shes aware of and that he and the other PI on the project have been travelling a lot, and to “stay tuned” for more info. The feeling I got from that interview was that they werent in a rush to get someone. 

I asked him if waiting for me to relocate would be an issue as this position is in Boston and finding a place to live, a school for my kids, some kind of day care situation, etc, would take time. His answer was “Well, were not interested in finding the person who can start as soon as possible, were looking for the right person. If you told me you couldnt make it until May, then we might have to talk about getting that time frame a little closer” So... Im not out of the pool. He didnt even want references as he said that he knew a bunch of people from Einstein (where I used to work) that now work for their company. I know who hes talking about, and thats a very very very good thing. 

Strangely, a company based in France that works on temperature controllers for microscopes contacted me. That was the thing I was trying to patent, and build while I was working at my old job. No one knows about that except for you guys, vaguely, and the people in my old lab. How word got to some start up company in France is beyond me.

Ugh, enough about the job thing. I know, that was a lot but thats whats front and center here.

 In other news, Im now 125 lbs! Much better than the 105 lbs I had dropped to. It was gross. Being 105 lbs isnt gross, but the quickness at which I lost it gave me saggy skin and even though I looked good in clothes, naked, I was a mess. Just a horror show. Now Im filling it out and the yoga is REALLY helping me tone up. Ive been eating more and taking the kids to the playground after school a lot (since winter will be here before you know it and those days will be few and far between). When I take them to the park I dont do the sitting on the bench playing with my phone thing. I play. I love the playground, so while Im having fun Im also moving and exercising. All of Dylans friends like me a lot because I engage them while their parents are all squawking in the parent clique, and Im there to have fun with them all. Dylans “girlfriend” really likes me too. We had a jumping competition last time I went. Who could jump the longest off of the highest step on this one jungle gym thing. It was like 4 steps high, so I wasnt putting her in danger, but it was cute. I did save her from some bigger boys that were picking her up and swinging her around and boy did I read them the riot act. 

Dylan got 100% on his first test, which was a spelling test, and of course Im so proud of him, but at the same time Im also pretty peeved that he had to take a test in the first grade. I dont know, maybe Im too soft, but at 6 years old theyre still babies and they dont need tests yet. What if they dont do well? Thats hard for a 6 year old. Its unnecessary at their age IMO.

Theres so much more but Ive written a shit ton here that no one is going to read because of length, so Ill write more as I think about it. Its just a hard time right now, but really Im making the best of it. Im owning my shit and trying as hard as I can to fix it. The time Im getting with my kids is really awesome, and its a privilege honestly. Ill cherish this forever. I wish I could make some money while doing it, but thats almost impossible after not having established myself at any kind of company. I dont even care what I do. I just want to stay here. I thought about selling artwork but Im afraid Im not good enough for that. Theres just so much to figure out but not a whole lot of time.  

Anyway, talk soon. 

[tumblunni]

A random thought that just came to me: why do fantasy animals not have milk/wool/eggs/whatever?

Like.. I mean.. often in farming games you can have a pet cow or chicken but you can’t produce food or linen from your pet monster. Even when its a cow or chicken monster! Like, i was actually REALLY SURPRISED that Rune Factory 4 had your giant monster cow give you giant monster milk. Thank you, only productive doomcow in all of fantasy fiction! i think in that game tho its just cos you cant buy a regular cow. But then its still kind of Weird how every other monster in that game only gives like.. the same stuff you get from killing it in the wild. you only get raw unrefined parts like claws or tails or ‘elemental stone’ or whatever. never any other foods, never anything that’s then further craftable into some form of useful material. Instead theyre ONLY useful for adventuring-related stuff like infusing swords with magic by throwing entire dragon teeth into the furnace.

I dunno if I’m explaining this well but like.. I think its a huge missed opportunity for speculative fiction? Cos, when you think about it, its not like milk is a very intuitive or sane thing. Its only common sense now cos we have millenia of it as a primary food. How did the first human make the connection that that weird thing on a cow’s underside was the equivelant of the things on a human’s chest, and that there was a way to steal the cow’s milk, and that this milk is a type of milk that adult humans can drink. And then also who discovered the first way to make milk selectively rot without developing mould, and then who was insane enough to predict it’d be edible when sliced on bread??? How did we figure out how to spin cotton into yarn, even??? You never think about it, but a lot of inventiveness must have gone into it! So it seems silly to me that people look at like.. EVERY SINGLE FANTASY ANIMAL EVER, and don’t think it could ever be useful as a farm animal in this fantasy society unless it has some kind of feature also shared by existing farm animals

Like.. it doesn’t have to be a cow?? It doesn’t have to be a chicken??? Maybe this giant lizard also lays edible eggs! Maybe for some reason birds have milk! but ALSO wouldnt it be SO MUCH MORE FUN to imagine completely new and ridiculous ways that humans could get a profitable industry from these creatures? Maybe unicorns grow tails of ironlike material that intertwines in beautiful braids, and then humans collect them when they shed them and melt them down into swords, and thats where mythril comes from. Maybe milk doesn’t exist in this world and like.. instead everyone drinks this weird fruit juice produced by giant bees that ferment berries in their left knee somehow. You can say anything, and as long as it’s well developed into your fictional society then people will totally roll with it. And probably find it a lot more immersive if this place isnt 100% similar to real world farming

Also that raises another question that always bugs me: why do humans just arbitrarily decide some versions of animal products are for food and others are gross? I mean.. you look at caviar, and like.. bug eggs look like that. Who decided one day that weird squishy tiny eggs are edible only if they come from the sea animals? And caviar is still seen as super gross in some countries, and in others its like a super common food instead. Fish roe on sushi isn’t for rich people only, its not considered a strange novelty. And then dogs are eaten for meat in some countries, horses are, monkeys are, even insects. A lot of stuff that’s considered gross in our country isn’t a universal gross of all humankind. And like.. cows and occasionally goats are the only acceptable milk animals in the whole world of animals that make milk. And its funny how we think about it, yknow? i can understand being gross out by (for example) possum milk or something. Imagining sucking on a possum is a horrible mental image! But its funny how like.. dude.. if someone sold possum milk it’d be in a goddamn glass. You probably couldnt tell the difference until you tasted it. And we never think about how gross it is to suck on a cow, or how dirty those animals are! If anything cows should be THE GROSSEST milk-giving animal, floppy udders are a bizarre mutation in the cosmic scale of things.

So I mean i can understand someone in universe is like ‘eww but monster cow milk is gross’ even if its a thing that could hypothetically exist. Though also i feel its kinda lazy to do that, to just assume that in a world where these animals are everywhere they’d naturally have exactly the same perception of what’s gross or not. i mean, again, dogs are just a mildly uncommon food animal in some countries. Places where they’re not very popular or nor very accessable as pets, or just dont have a centuries old history of being pets. it’d be funny to imagine a fantasy world where like.. basilisks are a common farm animal and chickens are the scary gross thing that lives in dungeons

Oh and also randomly I liked how the game Jade Cocoon actually did add little details like this! Cocoon Masters capture monsters in cocoons, and then those cocoons can actually be spun into special silk that imbues their magic into the clothes it makes. this is a common industry for villages like this, the economy revolves around the catchable monsters in a rather realistic and interesting way. Or, i mean, you could just keep the monster and love and raise it. It was kinda messed up how selling monsters is explicitely said to be killing them to turn them into cloth :(

[neopuff]

riverdale ep 1-3

these twins always make me >___>

oh yeah i knew jason was gonna die

this is very artsy

i thought he was murdered

oh

tragedy

oh......a mom for veronica

what is a...chocolate shoppe? and why? does it sell? burgers?

is veronica the new kid

OH KEVIN

the gay kid gweiopubgoewgnew

the acting in this is terrible

the archie actor is clearly not a real ginger so i approve of this casting lmao

“to pass time i started composing poems in my head” shut up archie

archie: says anything betty: amazing!

lmao

betty: ive been thinking about us- archie: is that a hot bitch i see

“we do, both of us, together”

omg

GNOIWPEGWE BETTY’S FACE IS KILLING ME

awkward

oh....archies dad

thats not archies dad

archies dad got that fat gut

“im a sophomore’ BITCH NO UR NOT

SHES GOTTA BE LIKE 25 LMAAAOO whaaatt

im still dying theyre supposed to be 15 gwenpiubgewo;gwe

“gay, thank god, lets be best friends” im gonna piss and die

wow

love these pussycats

“ive had every flavor of boy except orange” its better that

waywiongubwepogn;wegew

ARCHIE AND GRUNDY IM DYING!!!!

IM GONNA FUCKINGGG DIIEEEE

GRUNDYINOGEW;EWL

im pissing im

DYING

shes the music teacher

why wouldnt they just make up a new teacherniogwepng;ew WHY IS SHE MS GRUNDY!!!

oh

archies dad/veronicas mom have a....history

“chose the rich kid”

wow

so many divorced parents

outdoor cafeteria

when will i see a high school that has one of these forreal

i assume its a west coast or south us thing

kevin: refers to cheryl as a widow me: i called the JOKES

“is cheerleading still a thing?” “is being the gay best friend still a thing”

the dialogue in this show is terrible its so funny

im glad betty/ronnie is a good ship

grundy is all turned on by archies music

this is so gross and im DYING

“i dont think thats a good idea” cuz u fucked a 15 year old bitch

oh

theyre not talking about the fucking

did cheryl murder her brother

why doesnt just one of them say it and not mention the other

bitch ur the only one who’d get in trouble ur an ADULT

that was so lackluster

wow

GNIWEUPGEW;OGWE

CHERYL’S FACEGNIEW;GEW

like yeah....not the kind of heat i meant :\

oh

im glad cheryls the villain i always hated her

wow

veronica: i know who u are [has known her for 2 minutes]

this dialogue is so unnatural and bad its cracking me tf up

get WRECKED cheryl

veronica: betty and i come as a matching set

i bet u do

time for football

“what you got something better to do” dont be rude

awww

“why did you defend me” just accept the kindness u fool

man

i like mr lodge

this is very awkward

was polly a character in the comics i dont remember her

WOW

“both of us” gewinouogbewgew

im DYING

in the headspace

“archiekins” gweinouobgweo;ngew

wow

“cheryl blossoms cheerleading squad.......”

bettys mom is so annoying

she sounds familiar

oh

mr lodge just sent a lotta money their way

why did the coach call his dad

he said hed give him a day

impatient ass

archies dad is just like :\

:/

:\

:/

these actors dont look related at all

which is funny to me

oh good its the pill in ibiza song

omg

i love that veronica is the speech giver in this show

moose/kevin gwiuebogiwgew

where is REGGIE

my SON

wow

openly talking about the illegal secrets at a big party

i just realized reggie is the asian guy

i didnt hear his name and couldnt figure out who tf that was gweopiubgwe;ngwe

im a fool

whered ronnie go

dancing with the gay guy, god

“i have this fantasy of us as a power couple” who asks someone out like that

STOP STARING AT GRUNDY

this is super awkward

cheryl is gonna murder...everyone

they could just

chill

“cheryl blossom truly is...the antichrist” just all her a bitch like a normal person

“we’re not just friends we’re best friends” shut up archie

wOW

hes NEVER FELT for betty

if these two make out i s2g

once they kiss cheryls gonna open the door

foolish children

ronnie dont DO IT

foolish

sighs

boring

what how tf would she know they made out

did they not come out at exactly 7 minutes

ok but wheres betty

oh hey jughead

i like jugheads not-crown

oh

now shes goin straight for love

“of course i love you” hes being so...obtuse

annoying

oh

ok now its about not being good enough

sure

did they find jayjay

and look at that

he got shot in the head

probably by his sister

ok

its obvious cheryl did it

im sure theyll switch it up like somehow it was secretly jughead

but it was cheryl

ok ep 2

fgewgw

why were they even fuckin at 6 am

cant believe they made moose gay

i forgot his gf’s name in the comicsniguwebgew

god

the actor that played jason was so uggo

GEWNIOG;EW SHARING A SHAKE WITH HIS TWIN SISTER!!!

maybe someone shot him for being so openly incestuous with his creepy sister

i know its like plagueing archie now but i feel like this should help him

“are you up?” “no” “youre killing your mother”

he went to grundys house

weird

and hes shirtless

“you could be expelled” “we could go to jail” NEITHER OF THOSE THINGS WOULD HAPPEN TO HIM!!!

pedophilia is not a two way street

oh

bettys mom is...the worst

betty plz dont talk to your bitch mother about your life

i love archies eyebrows

i hope this is the end of archie/betty forever

wow

“sardonic humor”

oh

bye jughead

oh

is kevin not out to his dad

“the yellows for friendship” sure

veronica is so aggressively into this friendship

YAYYY

the otp stays together

wow

betty u are a fool

that is your future WIFE

oh

hi mr weatherbee

cheryl is wearing a spider pin gewoinubgewlngkew

CHERYL

archie and mr weatherbee just gonna

make eyes

jughead: archie you KILLED him

fewijohuog

HE THINKS ARCHIE DID IT

no jughead i was just fucking the hot prof

jughead: ew

fewiougobewgno;ewlgew

kevin moose is your new bf

“fate throws us together” ok

wow

why is he rejecting moose

because hes in the closet???

hes clearly trying to come out cmon

oh

everyones terrified of cheryl now so thats good

oh

bettys mom

“i ship it” why

“moose has an official girlfriend...mitch” i feel like i heard this line wrong

oh, betty

dont cry sweetums

“im supposed to say yes” THE DIALOGUE

ronnie is trying so hard with these dramatic white ppl

really

they couldnt even keep weatherbee fat

is this channel afraid of fat ppl

wow

does this bitch just sit in her empty ass music room all day

is she not really even a teacher

DONT TALK ABOUT FEELINGS

YALL ARE GROSS!!!!

disgusting

bitch get a dog and leave teenagers alone

WOW

WOW LMAAAAOOOOOOOO

AAAAAAA

JUGHEAD: WHAT!! GROSS!!! WTF!!!

this is not high school cheerleading

one of the girls here actually looks like a high schooler

cheryl just called herself exoticgewiongewiogew; CUZ YOURE A GINGER? BITCH

i die

oh

betty why

wOW

betty dont do this

cheryls a crazy ho

i know theyll make up by the end of the ep but still

“like we were meant to be best friends” gweniguebwg

2nd grade tutor

gewinogubwegw

“oh, little archie-” little archiewgn;klew I DIE

references are what i live for

i cant believe betty let cheryl into her house

wheres her mom to scream and chase her out

welp

there goes that

betty dont let her into ur HOME

oh

whats betty doing

“BEFORE I KILL YOU” BETTY

terrible thing to say

are they not friends because archie stood him up

cougarngiewgew

SHES A PEDOPHILE

awkward

i guess bettys mom coulda killed jason

“sometimes a friend is better than a boyfriend” actually, always, not sometimes

oh reggies finally doin something

gonna keep up the reggie/jughead rivalry

FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT

ok

“you wanna d the right thing” the way archie said that made it sound like he wants to fuck her and she doesnt want to

but whatever

so does jughead and bettys friendship not exist in this universe

nod like douches and mutually suppress our emotions

wow

this dialogue is still awful its so funny

i hope it never improves purely for my amusement

out door pep rally...

[dances]

fewiulgbew

AHH HONEY HONEY

YOU ARE MY

CAAAANDY GIIIIIIRL

good shit

oh

cheryls having a Time

god the kid that plays jason is so uggo

oh

bye cheryl

finally getting a genuine emotional response from her

were they gonna fake his death for attention but then he was actually dead

yayyy

make up

veronica is over here like “betty and i were destined to be friends” and betty is like “im sure we wont know each other in a week”

aww archie and jughead back 2gedda

does jughead know betty or not

wheres the jughead/betty brotp of my past

veronica and jughead: interact me: yes...

im glad that, unlike in the comics, archie is not dating both girls at once and then also every other girl he meets

where ya goin weatherbee

wha

A CHALKBOARD LOL

i doubt a school like this would have a chalkboard instead of a smartboard

oh

did she do it

gasp

im sticking with my fake death for the attention theory

OK LAST EP

im enjoying this show

but i dont think i could take multiple Dramatic Teen Shows

how could cheryl be wearing that skirt in public school

“the plan was bananas”

oh

jason just wanted.....to leave

thats fine

oh

who got shot

gwneio;glkwe

in my neighborhood it wouldve just been the hunters

is archie gonna have a shiner for the rest of the show

oh

is betty not poor as shit in this universe?

i shouldve guessed from her moms outfits

“a lois lane type like you” nice and ronnie can be clark kent

omg leave grundy alone so she can die in hell

wha

why didnt you just say that you were alone

oh

dog

ok

a date....

oh

hes hot

good call, ronnie

CHUCK CLAYTON

“hes kind of a player” dont be racist, betty

he is hot as hell tho

awww “juggie”

finally jughead and betty are 2gedda

jughead you need shit for your college applications

oh right, dilton

what

“im not ten years old” but you are 15 which is not very different

so if chuck is in the show is nancy gonna be around too

ronnie/chuck is a good ship

“to OUR relationship” shut the fuck you youre a pedophile

wow

the sticky maple....

wow

chuck was cute

ronnie is gonna tear him apart

man

why does chuck have to be a dick!!! chuck was always a nice guy

fewionpgnew

betty: [COVERS FACE]

destroy him

PUNCH HIM

why is chuck a villain im bothered but also hes the worst destroy him

this terrible au version of chuck is terrible

“nothing is off the table...except for my body” weiugblewnkg

i love the pussycats

is this every other girl chuck did this to

oh

its ethel

hi cheryl

go away

lmao

whose this kid

wow

ok jughead

dont steal his ice cream

oh

dilton shot a gun gwoinegbpweo;nglwe

survivalist?!?! DILTON

IM DYING

HES A TECHNOLOGY OBSESSED NERD

why do the pussycats roll their eyes at josie

“a bnd with b&v”

did they find...ze book

so the football players dont even fuck the girls its just about getting a date and a selfie???

oh

cheryl, doubting her brother

what

just take the book

why not...just take the book

powerful

bettys rly lucky her mom isnt violent

(for now)

oh

she looks super awkward in that

omg

the sound of bettys lil demons in her head

“and a hot tub....”

this is such an awkward conversation

just imagining this with real 15 year olds is ridiculous

oh hey ronnie

chuck youre so fucking stupid

shes wearing a swimsuit and heels this is CLEARLY A TRAP

GWENOIGO;NEW

BETTY

black is not a good hair color

ronnie: im so turned on

GEWNIOG;EWG

SLAP!!!!

i just realized why archies dad is so familiar

he was on generator rex AND clone high

love it

part of me always liked archie/josie

15 is not late wtf

“slut shaming...its what they call it when sluts get shamed” wow

when does bettys mom get murdered

um

are they gonna burn him

UM

um

betty

LMAO

shes fine shes just pissed

awww

dads gonna support u now

must be NICE

gweoniugbweo;gew bettys face when ronnie said she called chuck “jason” was so funny

are they gonna do some she went off her meDS OO---OOOHHHA AAAHHH TERRIBLE BEAST

#burn it

cheryl tryin to make up for ze past

i still hate her idc

omg when does grundy get murdered too im done with this pedophilia subplot

STAY AWAY

FROM THE CHILD!!!

-___-

dilton you fool

im happy juggie and betty are hanging out

oh

dont mention ms grundys car

NO

YOU

FOOL!!!!

im tired of this pedophile plz shoot her next

ok im all caught up

whens the next episode

[somedaypast-thesunset]

i had a nice weekend, amazingly enough. in some ways i feel we both made an effort but at the same time we didn’t. like we just chilled - didnt try to make plans or rush through, just accepted that this was the activity.

it helped to change the routine up a bit. since my roommate left, we decided to stay at my place. i had a friend over for tea before being dropped off at his place where we packed up some things and came back. we got weed and alcohol and watched the unabomber documentary on netflix. it was nice - no one was yelling, no one was bothered. i brought my bed out to the living room so we could watch the big screen and relax.

in the morning we went to the bakery and bought good stuff for breakfast. smoked some weed, finished the unabomber series and took a nap. then we went skating at the park downtown before buying ingredients to make a fancy pasta dinner at his house.

it was very nice. i felt that this was ~my christmas. we definitely needed time / space to enjoy each other as is instead of constantly rushing and or making plans for other things. the success of it and the lure of downtown began helping him change his min (as well as the fact he wants to live the life the unabomber lived and now he realizes its kind of crazy)tm

this week i have a doctors appointment and im supposed to get a tattoo. he leaves on friday basically but he should be back before the next friday which oesnt seem that bad at all? he’ll still be here for new years. and my birthday. considering i dont care about christmas anyways, seems like an okay deal and i’ll probably get free random shit from people anyways. 

things are 20% less bad than they were on thursday/friday last week. it’s not great but i dont want to die. which is like .... the most normal level of being for me possible rght now. i am not “excited” to see my doctor because it means ive gone off the deep end but i am excited for the relief that i will feel upon talking to a professional who advocates for me. i am considering asking if he would want to talk to one of my friends who has been dealing with me to see if it would help because i think it would help to see that i have smart friends who are active in my life in positive ways - like i still want to provide proof that i’m not just some drug addict.

on the weekend i told him the story of my cat frank. frank died in really traumatic circumstances which was totally unusual for most people. frank was very very very sick and i took him to the vet by bus because my father was very sick. the vet took my cat, performed emergency procedures on him, then asked me to pay for it. when i couldnt pay for it they gave me the option of releasing it to the humane society, which the humane society woulnt take it and i would have to rive it there myself or put the now healthy cat down. so basically i had to put it down. they wanted me to pay to put it down as well. i had a friends father come in and he yelled at them and made a ig eal and they put it down for me for free.

in my life, i figured this was just ~ another thing. he asked me why this happened, how it couldve happened, that it was like a really terrible story if not one of the worst he’s ever heard and pressed for details. i did not fully realize at the time how unique my exprience was. i thought this went with my old line of belief - i was crazy. i was the crazy one just experiencing the world aroun me and reacting to it in a crazy way. i just “didnt understand” what was happening. i was 16 and alone and just dealing with this. 

but i was not crazy. i had taken my family pet to the vet like anyone would in modern society on the expectation that they cared about animals. but they did not care at all and i dont think that people fully understand that the pet industry is about money - it is not about the animal at all. but most people will drain their bank accounts for a beloved animal. i know people who have spent thousands of dollars and acted like it was completely normal and okay. 

is it though? i dont know. it seems fucked that we domesticated animals to an overabunance and then put a huge price tag on caring for one that they would otherwise kill. when this animal once survived in the wild without any care at all. 

but i tried to explain the nuances of this story to him which he would have zero understanding of at all. it is a bit like racism. you would never understand what a black person felt if you are not black. you do not get the nuanced glances and little shuffles away from you on a daily basis that makes you feel inhuman. and you cant explain the depth of that to someone - it sounds like you’re overreacting and nitpicking when this bothers your soul because you were merely born into the world and others are reacting to you for no reason at all.

so i tried to explain the nuances of being in poverty, having an alternative style and possibly being perceived as not white. which is a weird and unknown factor to my life - i am perceived as not white. i cannot say for certain what i am perceived as - i’ve gotten mixed, spanish and asian. but many times i am perceived as “not white”. i believe as i am getting older and my “alternative” style has become more like an old witchy type lady who just wears black and i am judged even more based on my natural looks that i am in fact coming across as more native american now than since i was a kid. 

it is kind of easy to tell by clothes if someone is experiencing poverty. kind of. sometimes people are still really insecure and want to portray themselves better off because they know its more beneficial to do so. some eople have no choice at all. as a teenager my “altnerative style” itself looked poor. i wore ripped jeans and band tshirts, i had weird colored hair that i cut myself and i probably had gross peircings. maybe i was wearing makeup from the night before. maybe my shoes had holes in them. maybe my jacket did. maybe i wore my leopard print coat. i dont know. i dont even know what i looked like or what i wore - i expressed myself through my style and i was very all over the place. maybe they judged me by this.

and its so easy to “understand” the judgement of “some punk kid” but the nuanced beliefs that follow it are not. punk to many is a criminal. a drug addict. someone who doesnt care. a kid is someone who does understand, that they can control and manipulate. someone in poverty has no choice and other people wont care. they wont care that this is a teenage girl saving her beloved pet, willing to work out payment plans and everthing else to do it. 

he did seem to understand my perspective. i have alot to deal with. this is why its offensive when i have to hear him lament about some other person’s life - who i honestly have no doubt they struggled. i really dont. if i met them independently and they told me of their lives, i bet we would get along (provided they werent a drug addict anymore) because i feel we’d probably empathize with eachother far more than he ever empathized with us. and i have only heard stories from others and every story is terrible - their successes are few and far between and they actively make harmful choices. imagine how they felt life was like for them to come to such conclusions on how they’ll live. to make choices to shoot drugs and fuck with all these people without care - that’s probably a lot of people actively not loving you and/or serious mental illness. 

but when the focus is on that and them and my struggles are taken without the same heaviness or seriousness or acceptance of how this would affect me .. it’s offensive. i do not want to be in competition with anyone for a shitty life. you cannot even be proud of that. it’s just sad. i’m sa for them, i’m sad for me - it’s just sad. but when no seriousness is taken on my life, i find myself trying to defend the belief that my life was not easy. and not just “not easy” like my parents divorced  or i didnt get into the school i wanted. like really seriously not easy, likely equal to the not easiness of this person as well. i just had a completely unique not easy experience to them and perhaps it’s not as wild or entertaining? or i’m not the cute little white blonde girl? 

i explained this to another friend about a doctor. as a teenager a friend and i  went to the doctor to try and find some help for me. we were our usual teenage goth selves and the doctor pretty much laughed and thought we were lesbians (we were not, which i guess kudos to him for accepting our perceived homosexuality but that wasnt part of the issue at hand) 

this is just the very obvious points. the examples you can see where most likely some judgement occurred but the actual bigger picture is what all these nuanced interactions equal out to. if everyday my interaction with someone is clouded by pre-conceived notions of being a drug addict, a criminal, “not white” (which in itself could be leading to the first two but is racist all around anyways) or to the lesser degrees - strange, not “socially acceptable”. but i am none of these things -  am just me. 

and you know, right now i am in a place much like my friend was as a teenager. she struggled with her racial identitiy. she did not want to be seen as “brown”. she carried hatred and resentment towards her culture and did not want to accept it despite being “brown”. so like her, i am very non-accepting of drug addicts because their existence makes mine harder. a drug addict many times lives in poverty. “not white” people are perceived as drug addicts. alternative styles are seen as drug addicts. and drug addicts themselves, many of whom i’ve interacted with, are not nice people. they are not people you want to be around and yes - they are still people. under the heroin and crack, they are still people hurt and struggling. i get it. but they just made the struggle for themselves and me ten times harder. so i have to fight and defend myself that i am not a drug addict which is so hard to prove because they can believe you’re popping pills or your trip to the bathroom took too long and it’s frustrating as hell.

unlike my friend i do not have to accept my identity as a drug addict because i’m not one. i realized that i did in fact choose to take a harder route in the struggles of life because doing drugs is the easy way. and yes, smoking weed is kind of the same but i’ve dealt and cried about life. every experience ive had with other drugs has been very numbing and exaggerated and an altered viewpoint. that is not how i react with weed. i dont know if others react differently and i wouldnt argue if they did. but this is my reaction. i would smoke 2 joints everyday before i took an anti depressant which i have taken and do not have the same very positive effects. 

but when ihave done other drugs and if i chose to continue to do other drugs its a complete escape. 100% non functioning escape. and it’s not like “do a little” mdma and you’re just a little happier all day. PEOPLE ARE STILL AROUND YOUR WEIRD ASS which is affected by this drug in unusual ways like you’re a “little happier” and everyone else is uncomfortable. congrats. i do drugs and i am writhing on the floor like a piece of shit. 

anyways, he told his mother the story about the vet and she essentially pushed it aside and said it seemed unlikely. she is why my life is shit. people ust like her multiplied into the thousands. for all the nuanced judgements and personal experiences - it seemed unlikely. but it did happen. this is my life. you’re telling me my life seems unlikely. this is exactly what happened. a grown man with a government job came in and yelled at them. i know his name. why would that occur? do you not understand WHY I AM CRAZY?

i am constantly looking for validation because of people like her. not everyone is like her. some people with vast life experiences or real open minds take you for your word. anything is possible in life. but many people don’t. and many of those people hold positions of power or authority which may even be as simple as being a teacher or principal. but those people will shape and guide the path your life in society is going to take. when i told people of what was going on - they didn’t believe me, they didnt care; it seemed unlikely. so i’m left questioning the importance, my sanity, my perspective as well as dealing with the actual active problem entirely on my own with absolutely no help or direction what so ever. thank god i was an egotistical cocky angry teenager. my punk ass attitude and anger and genera ignorance got me through things i honest to god probably wouldnt even do now. younger me was ten times harder. i was ready to do anything go anywhere but i didnt because i had guilt and apathy. i didnt have the same apathy as i do now, but there was some. i dont have guilt anymore and looking back had i followed through on my teenage dreams, i mightve been better off. i wanted to move out early. i wanted to move out at like 15 - 16 years old. if my dad had not gotten sick, i wouldve been working at a job where i made 350 - 500$ every week doing shit i was fully 100% capable of doing with no issue what so ever. in a home environment interacting with one other person. i realized i had earned like 4000$ in the 3 -4 months i was working there and had literally nothing because i spent it on weed and vodka and ecstacy. then i lost the job for being so stressed out and smoking so much weed before and during work that i couldnt even do the job anymore. which was like SHIT I DO EVERY DAY ANYWAYS. 

at 17 i spent 3 months living by myself. literally. while working. an taking care of any responsibilities my sick father put on me and this is before hes even in the house. most people cant eve comprehend the idea of me doing this now but this is what i did. what you need to realize is that my mother at the time was also still alive. so for whatever reason she just ... didn’t give a fuck this was happening. she knew. she was fully aware. but not once did she offer anything. she just wanted to know if he was going to be dead or not. 

17 year old me dealt with this by smoking an insanely large amount of weed which i do not think i have even matched to this day because never have i had that much disposable income again. but not only did i smoke weed, i did a shit ton of mdma and k and drank a lot of vodka which was my drink of choice at the time. we stole my dads van, three times, for lke no purpose. it was bad. this was essentially my most punk era of time which i now look back on pretty disappointed with myself because i had the wherewithal to get a job, maintain a job but then be a complete piece of shit teenager. that was my time - had i not given into drugs or alcohol i’d have been WAY different. period. 

by not taking that way out - and i feel like people don’t understan i made a concious decision not to do it anymore but eliminating toxic people in my life and like completely removing myself from these situations. the last time of significance that i did drugs - my friend came from toronto to visit. this is what we did. the routine. she came and we woul get “bored” and decide lets just pool what money we have and get something. so i asked everyone on facebook - at the time i had probably 150+ friends (super unusual for me a really big number) and just asked anyone and everyone. a random kid who went to our school back in the day (we were probably 18 now) said he had some pills. we walked in the dark to meet this kid and he gave us 2 pills for 20$ which is a pretty big rip off but we didnt care. we went back to my place, popped them and got high as fuck. half way through our trip, my bf at the time randomly shows up. which was a big deal; he live 3 hours away and was surprising me. we were very surprised and it was awkward and weird and it wasnt like we could send him away. we had to spend a few hours with him awkwardly before she slept in the other room and i had an uncomfortable time “sleeping” with him. 

i decided then maybe i was getting too old. i spent two years doing drugs and going through his routine and it was wearing on my body already. my teeth and gums were always sore from grinding, my lungs were always sore from smoking so many cigarettes, i was spending all of my money on drugs - there was times when the drugs were clearly mixed with other more disgusting drugs like coke and meth and it would result in way more fucked up reactions like the time i hit myself in the thigh with a baton for 30 minutes before my friend noticed and made me stop. but the repetition and pain were part of the enjoyment for me. all of the times i was on drugs, i was a different person. i was someone i would never actually be. sure, my inhibitions were lower but the filters of how i truly felt and would act are no longer there and thats not a real represenation of my actual true self. these are just deep layers of myself that i may not even want to share or would normally consent to sharing if the drugs didnt affect me. and that bothered me alot. it stil bothers me - my behavior on drugs. people out there have seen me in ways im not proud of. i’m embarassed and i only have myself to blame. 

so thats the easy way. the hard way is living life within your true self and finding enjoyment in things when you can barely find the excitement in yourself. take a drug and do any activity - it’s fantastic. do nothing and it’s great. but fining things your true self wants to take part in -- long time drug addicts know the “boredom”. they never took the journey to find these passions and instead elected for the easy way to have the excitement handed to them.

and honestly? nothing really matches the thrill of mdma. or i guess crack or heron or whatever you do. i have never felt anything like it. every nerve is awake and aware, i am hyper sensitive to all of life and my mind is clear. everything is interesting and awe inspiring. 

but thats not life. you cant carry that into the slums of the ghetto. you cant go outsie and stare blindly at the sun. you cannot do it. this is not life. and its okay to someones experience it. the same way its okay to experience the heat of the sun. you can do it lightly ad responsibly. any other way really harms you.

in the spirit of positivity, here are some things that really get me going:

- playing an entire song with no mistakes on guitar and possibly singing it without fucking up or forgetting the words. super exciting to my life in ways nothing else is. it’s not even like i’m trying to play for other people it’s just a personal knowledge that i can do this and play it and feel it and create it. 

- making good food. not just like cooking food but the satisfaction of the actual creation of making something thats really good or luxurious. 

- being physically close to the person i am in a relationship with. i like the warmth and i was very deprived of physical contact but i dont like it with strangers or friends either so its a rare and nice feeling to lay close with someone. 

- a very fascinating tv show. like one that i have to keep watching because i neeeed to know. thats a unique and interesting feeling of human beings; being really curious. i guess it’s lke reading a book but i dont read much at this stage in my life but i hope ill become hat kind of person and when i do itll probably be exciting to have so much material in a world ive rarely visited. 

- cats. i really love cats. all of the cats. i love visiting people’s cats and i like to become friends with them. cats are great because they feel very individual; no two cats are the same and no matter how much the owner impresses on to the cat, the cat is just a cat and it does what it wants so it’s like getting to make a new friend even if the person you’re visiting isnt that exciting. cats are always great. even the shitty grumpy ones. or the old ones that maybe arent into you. if you spend enough time, eventually they will be and you can be friends and people think you’re a cat whisperer. i have atleast two cat friends i see regularly but i see more cats than that. we’re just not friends yet. 

- a really good song. either with really good rocking bluesy music or clever/well written lyrics. 

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Aaaaa ugh time of the month started And I’m breaking my ‘no caffeine’ fast AGAIN because I’m just so exhausted and gross feeling and I need it :P and just... uuuugh it doesnt hurt as much as it used to, I get less abdominal cramps now i try sleeping on my back whenever it starts but its still just so draining and demotivating when I know I’m not female yet I’m gonna have to deal with this shit anyway just GUH its so gross stop reminding me i have ovaries period blood fucking SMELLS, even! it smells completely different to regular blood and just a million times worse than anything on earth. i feel just as unclean as people used to treat women on their periods in ancient civilization, its just so horrible i have to pay attention to my ovaries for a week each month i have to be all achey and smell like a monster and constantly never be able to get clean and its so bad cos i have an inconsistant period i can never predict so theres always just that horrible moment of realizing halfway through the day that its started and now a good mood is ruined I refuse to let this mood be ruined, I’m just gonna stop thinking about it, ok take the pain meds and think about ANYTHING ELSE except dysphoria jesus christ and even seriously THE WORST BIT is how my period almost always coincides with my birthday too! it landed on my birthday this year and last year and on my 18th. it always fluctuates around the 12 to the 15th and its always the 12th in october exactly when i dont want it GAHHHH and sometimes its really painful and sometimes its okay and sometimes its REALLY PAINFUL I have these ridiculous blisteringly horrid periods that make me unable to fuckin walk straight cos my entire abdomen has gone numb while I vomit out everything I try to eat and sweat straight through my clothes with fever and friggin hallucinate this year’s birthday i had to go through that I had to WALK HALF A MILE TO THE SHOPS while going through that I was all out of medication and i nearly fucking fainted in the street on the way back I couldnt see anything at all, i was that goddamn dizzy it took me five tries to unlock my own door and i fucking didnt leave the house for a month after having to be outside while i was all gross and sweaty and probably everybody hated me and gahhhh I get paranoid that people can fuckin smell it on me and they know this body is female even if the person inside it isnt... I get paranoid they’ll all know I’m a fake I need to stop spiralling and just take my medicine dear god I keep freaking out more and more each month, i was able to handle this better when i was younger... it just keeps settling in that im gonna have to deal with this for the rest of my LIFE for no goddamn reason at all plz tie my tubes dear god doctor: okay we can talk about the transgender thing later, right now the priority is fixing your depression MY DUDE MY GUY DONT YOU THINK THAT WOULD HELP WITH MY DEPRESSION??? god i know probably he just means my medication would interact badly with testosterone suppliments but whatever seriously can i at least talk to a therapist about it or have my right pronouns used i built up all the courage to tell my support worker and they just pretend like it never happened and i keep cringing every time everyone keeps saying ‘miss’ and ‘woman’ even though I TOLD THEM seriously please dont make me remind you im not brave enough to speak up againnnn its hilarious the only place im out of the closet is frickin DWR CYMRU WATER BILLS COMPANY they added a ‘mx’ option on their registration forms and allowed me to change my details i dont even have it on my birth certificate, i dont even have my psychologist aknowledging it, but my frickin bathroom faucet provider is there for me they provide representation where it counts and also tap repair when it counts just imagine me scraping my claws across my face because that is what i am doing right now I need to eat my takeaway and take my medication and think about LITERALLY ANYTHING ELSE okay okay I’ll try doing the measurements to get my custom binder ordered I’ll do that ...maybe tomorrow I dont know I keep putting it off cos I hate looking at my naked chest I wish i just had a bra size to give them but I legit have never known my bra size I couldnt fucking stand getting tested for it and having saleswomen look at me and touch me and talk about fucking breasts like theyre something great and like I’m a fucking woman when im not, please listen to me dear god and everyone’s telling me to get cervical exams for vaginal cancer and blablabla its important to get tested once a year when you’re over 20 but I AM NOT GETTING PEOPLE SHOVING SHIT UP MY HORRIBLE DYSPHORIA ORGAN WHILE TALKING ABOUT HOW FEMALE I APPARANTLY AM god why do i keep spiralling and thinking about everything bad I dont want to think about my body i just want the pieces gone i feel like a lunatic cos even most trans people dont have moments of literally wanting to cut your own stomach open with a knife and take the parts out i get the stupidest most over the top self harm thoughts I spend way too much time thinking of how the fuck I could possibly perform my own top surgery without bleeding out or dying of infection or whatever I ended up dwelling on it way too much when that old comic Y The LLast Man mentioned amazons ‘burning off their left boob’ as a sign of fellowship or something, I spent ages trying to figure out how the fuck you do that and how I could do it right now someone save me from this flesh coffin gross fucking sacks of uselessness and a spiderweb of disgusting blood organs that serve no purpose except punishing me every month for not wanting to have sex yeah geez fucking christ isnt femininity great cant imagine why anyone would ever not want to be a woman gahhhh and then I end up being a rude piece of shit and probably alienating all my trans woman friends who want this kind of body, and im just like PLEASE TAKE IT AWAY why cant there be a magical ray that lets us swap give me a way to pretend I’m being generous instead of selfish by self-mutilating this sad sack of a body gahhh ... sorry, dont take it serious guys, I’m just venting. I’ve had a lot of disturbing self hate thoughts before but I havent acted on them since I was a teenager. Its not all dysphoric though, sometimes god likes to spice it up by making me imagine slicing my own eyeballs out of my head or whatever XD i was having such a good day, I was going to go start drawing again... why now...