#almost all of them are chronic and have been around my entire life my family just didn't realize i had them lol

[invisiblyvisiblejay]

the like. constant obsession with losing weight is so like. like obviously it's bad bc it can encourage rly unhealthy behavior and there's more to being healthy than being under a certain weight but like. also (and i don't know if this is talked abt as much?) it makes it like. extremely hard to tell if ur underweight or losing too much. like. i have been Rapidly Losing Weight for like. unknown reasons and everything i look at will tell me what i should be UNDER but no one will tell me what i should be OVER or when im underweight enough for it to be like. really concerning. AND like. i don't have an eating disorder and i never have but my eating is juuuust disordered enough that it's super super super extremely not helpful for every fucking thing i look at to tell me i should like. lose weight or not overeat or etc etc bc like. i need to gain weight. im 20 years old and 5'3 and im under 100lbs. that's not healthy but no one will tell me HOW not healthy that is or like. how concerned i should be. like yeah okay if you've lost 10% of ur body weight in under 6 months (which i have) ur supposed to go to the doctor but like. i don't know. and then now im trying to like. track what i eat so that when i DO go to the doctor i have actual shit to show them and even all of that is just so fucking concerned with telling u ur eating too much and not if ur eating too little. kind of really fucking frustrating lol. also also i feel like no one is really that concerned about it??? (except for some of my friends who absolutely freaked the fuck out about but they were like. kind of dramatic about it i stopped telling them abt it lol). like ive lost over 10lbs in like 5 months?????? and like i told my mom and she was like. idk i was like 100 when i was ur age and that's like?? okay?? but if i fucking gained 10lbs in 5 months everyone would freak the fuck out. idk. my bmi is so low rn that i qualify for anorexia??????? and i cant figure out if im like. overreacting abt this like part of the reason i havent gone to the doctor is i feel like theyll be like 🤷 eat more 🤷 switch ur meds 🤷 which is. not helpful. like yeah i know i have to eat more thank u. idk i am just kind of frustrated lol like yeah being skinny is good and whatever but this is not healthy and it's kind of concerning that people don't care. i havent even told my dad bc im like. pretty sure he'd be like??? why is that bad??? idk. anyways. im gonna go to the doctor at some point i havent decided if im going this week or next week so we'll see hopefully i live lol

[nikibogwater]

Everybody sit down and strap in, 'cause I have a doozy of a tale to share.

I've had anxiety for literally as long as I can remember. I've had periods of my life where it was so intense it became legitimately life-threatening (don't worry I promise this is going somewhere funny). And this was really bizarre because I have zero childhood trauma. Like, my family life is so idyllic it's almost comical. Therapists would do abuse screenings on me and look utterly baffled when I told them everything was fine at home. They'd interrogate my parents just to make sure I wasn't lying. I have one friend who I'm fairly sure believed I was just severely gaslighting myself when I said my family was great, school wasn't too stressful, and I've never lived in a dangerous neighborhood or experienced poverty.

Anyways, despite no one being able to figure out where my disorder was coming from, my doctors were able to help me manage the symptoms so that I would like, not die, and actually be able to finish high school. Which was awesome. Now fast forward to late 2021. My big sister (who has also had intense anxiety her whole life which no one could figure out why) is finishing up her doctorate and getting her physical therapist's license. Somehow, during all her studying and schooling, she finds out about this thing called Ehlers Danlos Syndrome, which explains literally everything that was going on with us. EDS is a connective tissue disorder that kinda fudges up your body in a whole bunch of little ways, including dysautonomia (episodes of very fast heart-rate that kick your body into fight-or-flight mode), and hypermobility (unusual flexibility). It's a spectrum disorder, so the severity of symptoms vary from person to person, but we definitely checked almost every box on the diagnostic list. My sister went to see a specialist, and yep, she was diagnosed EDS positive. She immediately calls my mom and goes "I know what's wrong with Niki" (thanks, sis, that's real encouraging lol). Initially we're like "okay Katie, that's nice" because honestly this kind of sounds like jumping at shadows, but I go in to see the specialist anyways just to make sure.

One consultation and diagnosis later, and suddenly my entire life makes perfect sense.

Now we get to the funny part. See, the diagnosis stuff happened in early 2022. So by the time late 2023 comes around and we're looking for a new dog (I promise this is relevant), we've been riding that chronic illness diagnosis for a while. Once again, my sister, ever the proactive one, decides she's going to help us get a new dog. She scours the adoption website, sends us photos of the cutest dogs available, and helps us make a decision. This is how we got Beverly, who has been an unstoppable force of chaos in our lives ever since we signed the papers (but she's also really cute so she can get away with it). Now on top of being a very excitable and anxious pupper, Beverly's got a weird little gimp in her hindquarters, which makes her sit all splayed-out and funny-looking, and while it doesn't seem to be causing her pain, we take her to a vet to get it checked out. Vet finds absolutely nothing. X-rays are taken and examined. Still nothing. At this point, they go "well, we could try a CT scan of her brain, which would run about $5,000, and maybe we could find something--" but my parents are already packing this dog into the car like "well that is a HARD nope." So we decide, look, Beverly seems happy and healthy, and those gimpy legs don't seem to bother her, so we'll just leave it be until it becomes clearer what's wrong with her because we do NOT have a cool $5,000 to throw around here.

Readers more astute than my family and I will likely have already figured out where this is going.

This morning, my mom is looking at Beverly sitting in her funny sprawled-out way, and something in her brain goes "wait...weird physical symptoms with no tracible cause that vets can see..." She does a bit of googling. Can dogs have EDS/Hypermobility? Yes. Yes they can. And the listed symptoms describe Beverly to a T.

So not only is my sister the one to finally figure out what's wrong with me, she also unknowingly got us a dog who has the exact same chronic condition as us. Meanwhile my poor dad, who is the only Normal Person in our house, is coming to terms with the fact that he is apparently just fated to always love chronically ill people and animals, and there's absolutely nothing he can do about it.

[unnaturalequilibrium]

undefined number of favourite #mafin scenes [the apron]

I love Fina, don’t get me wrong, I adore the short-fused velvet cupcake, but honey, that is not how you put an apron on another woman. Not even Vishnu is that handsy. I don’t mind though, I really don’t. In all honesty my stomach dropped at this scene, free falling into “do I make you randy, baby” territory. I think it’s because their relationship has been such a perfect tease up until this moment that even the lightest of touches was enough to send me. It’s kind of like when the woman you’ve been flirting with for a couple of weeks suddenly look at you from across the room and gives you that small smile and yeah, your heart does a flop and performs a moonsault on your libido, pinning that fucker to the ground. Also the stomach is such a…vulnerable place, there’s no reason to touch another human being's stomach in everyday life. An arm, a shoulder, a hand - it happens casually, but a stomach - no. Or maybe I’m just part dog, stomachs are off-limits and should only be presented to pack leaders and those you can’t best in a street fight.

Besides being a horny asshole I really liked the scene because of what it represented. We’d been shown how alone Marta actually is, surrounded by people but chronically lonely up in her ivory tower. No one who actually sees her, no one who actually truly listens to her as a person. Her family is a business, there is only the most Frankensteinian of affection shared between them and most of it is so tied up with power and money that it barely holds any traces of emotion. It’s her birthday, but it’s not her day. Until Fina shows up and cuts through propriety with her handsy hands and a personalised gift that landed like a well-executed Senton bomb that is. I can just imagine Fina embroidering away throughout the night, with a ferocity that could probably make small children pee their pants and dogs whine and cower in a corner. You know that scene in Xena with the “Kill ‘em all!” - that but with a needle and a thread and a floral pattern. To be fair, that’s pretty much how I envision Fina all of the time, a nice blouse and a citrus-y scent, but the sensibility of an ancient warlord. Where was I…?

Yes, Fina not only personalises a gift, but she does so in a way that is a nice contrast to the persona Marta is with her family and those around her. Sure the kitchen is traditionally a woman’s domain, but Marta is someone who’s built reinforced concrete walls around the space she’s carved for herself in what is otherwise a man’s world. So a sally into the kitchen becomes almost a kind of vulnerability in that context, a reminder that she is in fact a woman - does she then deserve a place at the men’s table? Especially since it still smells of the dreams of a bakery she had before she got caught up in the family business. But Fina is allowed to see that part of her and given an opportunity to encourage those forays into complexity and wall hopping. Marta finally has someone she can share her nuances with without having to fear they use it as cannon fodder against her.

Sprinkled throughout the entire scene we also get to enjoy their shit eating grins as they steal glances at each other with only the audience to catch the full extent of their smitten kitten impressions. To top it off and effectively take the horniest edge off, they end the scene with a shared laughter that comes in like a clothesline to the unresolved sexual tension, mellowing it at least a little bit. Soft, horny and heartwarming - all at once -  F-5 and game over for the last strands of my sanity holding out against falling for yet another telenovela couple. 

Bottom line; I should probably stop watching so much wrestling and these two are a perfect fusion of sweet and horny and it’s a very tasty treat with lots of hands.

[redgoldsparks]

August Reading and Reviews by Maia Kobabe

I post my reviews throughout the month on Storygraph and Goodreads, and do roundups here and on patreon. Reviews below the cut.

Heavyweight: A Family Story of Holocaust, Empire and Memory by Solomon J Brager After listening to this excellent interview with the author on the Gender Reveal podcast, I was very excited to pick up Solomon Brager's hefty nonfiction comic about family history, Jewish identity, the Holocaust, and empire. This is an incredibly well researched and thoughtful book. The author grew up with outsized family stories of a Jewish boxing champion great-grandfather from Essen who punched Nazis, and a great-grandmother who carried her children across countries and mountains to escape to the US. But these stories became much more complicated when the author started digging for receipts. One factor is the immense financial privilege of the family which already had bank accounts and significant savings in New York. Another factor is the layers of violence and empire that build up the power of the countries fighting on both sides of WWII. The author's quest to research the family story is a major thread in the story itself and I am absolutely awed by the amount of work that went into uncovering and shaping this story.

My Dearest Patrolman vol 1 by Niyama As a delinquent teen, Shin was mentored and protected by a friendly patrolman, Seiji. Having one supportive adult in his life completely turned Shin's life around and he also decided to become a patrolman. Years later, Shin and Seiji meet again, and Shin decides to confess the feelings he's been nursing for a decade. Lighthearted dating hijinks ensue! Strikes a nice balance between silly, sweet, and spicy.

Go For It, Nakamura! by Syundei An extremely silly and cute high school rom-com. Shy Nakamura has a massive crush on his classmate Hirose. Despite the fact that they see each other every day, Nakamura has never introduced himself. What will it take to get him to finally speak up and try to befriend his crush??

Something Not Nothing by Sarah Leavitt In 2020, Sarah Leavitt's partner of more than 20 years, Domino, died with medical assistance after years of severe chronic pain and a rapid decline at the end of her life. Leavitt, a cartoonist and writer, tried to make sense of this decision through comics and abstract watercolor paintings. The result is a gorgeous, heart wrenching, deeply human meditation on love and loss. There were pages that lifted my spirits and pages that pierced me to my core. I sobbed through the majority of reading it, but couldn't put it down. Leavitt's mapmaking of the landscape of grief is a gift to us all.

Assassin's Fate by Robin Hobb read by Elliot Hill What can I even say about this, the final novel of a 16 book fantasy series, which I have been reading and re-reading now for twenty years, other than holy shit??? I can't believe I've reached the end of Fitz's journey at last. This book is SO long (nearly 1000 pages) and much of it is brutal to read; characters we love are beaten, abused, tortured, and left in pretty hopeless situations for much of the novel. I think Hobb's insistence on revisiting almost every single character from the Rain Wilds and Live Ship sub-series expanded the first third of the book more than needed; had I been editing it, it would have been shorter. And yet! And yet! I was riveted by this too-long book, devouring it in big gulps, scream-texting about it to several friends who were reading the series along with me. The ending hit SO HARD. Its PERFECT, TERRIBLE, WRETCHED, one of the cruelest endings for several beloved characters and while also giving them a kind of grace and eternity I did not see coming, but should have. This book fulfills the themes of the entire series so well, completing repeated patterns, showing cycles that ripple through three generations, while also leaving a door open for the future that I'm already daydreaming about. Literally how did Robin Hobb come up with all of this. Its flawed but its perfect. I am in awe.

BL Metamorphosis vol 1 by Kaori Tsurutani translated by Jocelyne Allen An older woman picks up a BL manga by chance at a bookstore and discovers a new fandom late in life. She ends up befriending a shy high school girl who works at the bookstore and also loves BL, but has no one to talk to about it. This is such a freaking cute premise and I love the loose sketchy art style!

BL Metamorphosis vol 2 by Kaori Tsurutani translated by Jocelyne Allen Unlikely friends Urara, a shy high schooler, and Ichinoi, a widowed calligraphy teacher, bonded over their love of a BL manga series. Now they're heading to a doujinshi event to try and meet their favorite author. This brought me right back to my early days of visiting cons and meeting authors for the first time!

BL Metamorphosis vol 3 by Kaori Tsurutani translated by Jocelyne Allen Urara has been reading and loving BL manga years, but it takes a push from her older friend Ichinoi before Urara considers the idea of possibly drawing her own. Can she find the time to write and draw a story around her cram school schedule? This series PERFECTLY captures the BL reader to BL writer pipeline, I'm so charmed.

BL Metamorphosis vol 4 by Kaori Tsurutani translated by Jocelyne Allen Urara applies for a table at a comics festival, so now she has a deadline for her first original comic. Can she get it done in time? Ichinoi is there to cheer lead and support in every way she can (finding a printer, sewing a table cloth, agreeing to work the table, packing their lunches) but only Urara can get the comic done. This book contained one of my very favorite exchanges of the whole series, when Ichinoi asked "Is it fun to draw manga?" and Urara responded honestly, "No. It's hard to look at my own art for so long. But it feels like I'm doing what I should be doing."

BL Metamorphosis vol 5 by Kaori Tsurutani translated by Jocelyne Allen Urara and Ichinoi struggle through a long, slow day of trying to sell an original comic at their first ever comic event. Unbeknownst to them, their favorite author is there as an attendee. This book felt like one of the most relatable portrayals of the early days of a comics career I've ever seen. I'm obsessed with this series and definitely want to watch the live action movie adaptation!

The Spear Cuts Through Water by Simon Jimenez This complex fantasy novel weaves together a multi-strand narrative of violence, love, and the end of empire in an original world of old gods and talking animals. In the main thread, two warriors carry the corpse of an almost-dead goddess across the country in a five day dash from the mountains to the sea. The goddess was once the Moon, torn out of the sky by her own desire for immortality. Her children became the despotic Moon Throne, a cruel dynasty which has repressed and punished the people and elements. The Moon Thrones' heirs, three brothers with extraordinary powers, chase the warriors and hunger for the last dregs of the fallen Moon's power. In another thread, an unnamed protagonist watches this drama unfold as a play being performed in a dreamy underwater sleep realm, while recalling the stories their lola told of the old country before the war. This novel is often compared with NK Jemisin's The Fifth Season in terms of scope, literary prose, and ambition and I can see why. This novel employs some very creative and unusual writing choices that make it more rewarding to read in print than to experience in audio. I had a content warning for gore and cannibalism going in, so I was prepared for the violence of the middle section. I really enjoyed this novel and I can tell I'll be thinking about it for a long time.

Horse by Geraldine Brooks read by James Fouhey, Lisa Flanagan, Graham Halstead, Katherine Littrell, Michael Obiora This book follows multiple different story lines, some of which captured me much more than others. In Kentucky in 1850, an enslaved black boy watches a new thoroughbred racing colt's birth and begins a lifelong relationship with the horse, who will go on to be one of the most well-known champions in the history of American horse racing. In New York City in the 1950s, a gallery owner known for her modern tastes falls for an equestrian portrait of the great Kentucky race horse, Lexington. And in 2019, in Washington DC, a Nigerian-American art history student and a Smithsonian scientist dig into the mystery of an unlabelled horse skeleton in the museum's collection- and its possible connection with several paintings by a Civil War era equestrian artist. I admired the amount of research that went into this novel, and the way the paintings of Lexington tied the different timelines together. However, I really struggled with how the interior emotional lives of several of the Black male characters in this book were portrayed by this author. When Jarret, the enslaved Black groom, is separated from Lexington and forced into plantation labor temporarily, Brooks writes of him gaining a depth of spirit and understanding for the human condition from this experience. This felt deeply weird to read from a white author! I'm not really the right reader to say whether Brooks did a good job or not, but it put me on edge. When the final climatic moment of the novel read like a heavy-handed lesson in how Black men are still at risk of police violence even in 2019, I wondered who exactly that point was supposed to be for, and if Brooks is the one who needed to make it. So, I felt very mixed as I finished this book. There's a lot to admire craft-wise, and I can understand why so many readers were impressed by it. But I honestly I don't recommend it, unless you want to read it in a book club setting and have a nuanced discussion about what works and what doesn't in this novel.

The Summer Book by Tove Jansson A young girl named Sophie spends her summers on an island of the coast of Finland with her very present grandmother and her rather absent father. Each chapter tells of an incident experienced through the eyes of the very young and the very old- the growth of mosses and wildflowers on the island stones; boxes and bottles of flotsam and jetsam washing to shore; a great storm; an adventure in trespassing; an unexpected visitor; a night spent outside sleeping in a tent. Without much of an overarching plot this book is still a moving picture of living very close to and in tune with the seasons and elements in a very specific part of the world. It's brief and open ended but I really enjoyed it!

Delicious in Dungeon vol 14 by Ryoko Kui As the smoke clears after the explosive ending of the previous penultimate volume, our heroes gather themselves, check on the survivors, and set out on the most collaborative challenge: cooking and eating an entire chimera body. This is a satisfying and in some ways gentler ending than I expected from this series, but I really enjoyed it!

Notes from an Island by Tove Jansson and Tuulikki Pietilä translated by Thomas Teal  In the autumn of 1963, Tove Jansson, her partner Tuulikki 'Tooti' Pietilä, and their taciturn friend Brunström set about trying to finish a small cabin on a tiny Finnish island before the onset of winter (and possible legal delays of building permits). Tove and Tooti spent their summers on the island for the next 3o years. This book contains excerpts of journal and introspective writing on the nature of the island, the sea, the changeable weather, the futility of human efforts to shift the natural environment. These writings are paired with delicate prints Tooti made of water, stones, and ocean views. I read this directly after The Summer Book and after listening to a short biography of Jansson- this made a good companion to those other texts, but might have been a bit spare on its own.

[failyaoi]

do u have any silly takeda headcanons 2 share? ^_^

YES. YES I DO I’ve been waiting for this moment

My #1 (not mk1 exclusive): he got his hair genes from Suchin. (this is why I colour his hair a more blue-black colour, bc that’s how I colour Suchin’s hair while I like to give Kenshi’s hair a more brown tone.)

Has like 3 missing teeth either from sugar or fights you decide

Kenshi helped him pierce his ears and accidentally stabbed him with the needle like 5 times

He got his tattoos pretty much as soon as he could, while Kenshi had waited until he couldn’t anymore- Takeda wanted his entire life to be surrounded by the Yakuza, even though he wasn’t very sure what he was trying to prove 

When Takeda was younger, Kenshi saved up to get him braces. A few days later Kenshi woke up to see Takeda plucking them off with pliers 

I like to believe he kinda always saw Kenshi as a somewhat “father figure” . or at least someone he could look up to until he got older . though Kenshi was more strict with him the older he got . he followed Kenshi around in his first few months of officially joining the Yakuza

Always been kind of a nerd. he’s a fan of badly written movies,  arcade games, and anime but only really started allowing himself to indulge in those interests after a while at the Shirai Ryu Secretly a JC fan of course Has TERRIBLE memory . it's BAD Chronic nail biter, Kenshi has had to shove his hand away to stop him and eventually Kuai Liang had to do the same After spending time in the Shirai Ryu, he started to actually process the trauma he'd been through in the Yakuza and because of this developed terrible attachment/abandonment issues . like it was present before but repressed it for years until he didn't need to anymore and it was like the floodgates had been opened Frequently feels nauseous due to anxiety, which he inherited from Kenshi :'( he toughs through it tho Actually really loves drawing and I like to think he has a cute anime style . Hanzo asks him to draw stuff for him Actually RESENTED Kenshi for leaving the Yakuza. he felt like he was being betrayed, left behind and abandoned. he thought the Yakuza was their everything, their family. when he found out Kenshi didn't feel that way he felt like he was being lied to. That's why he accepted to kill Kenshi, but when he failed (and almost died) realising he would get killed for failing, he felt that hurt Kenshi made him feel when he first left all over again. and for a Jinkeda one, they collect Pokemon cards together

[theposhperyton]

if you have the time could you tell me literally everything you know about isfd?

I found your blog through the one piece posts and now need to learn anything I can about this obscure fandom

An ISFD ask from someone who isn't already lost in the sauce? (<-Self call-out) O glorious day!

Gosh, there's so much, I don't really know where to start. I've been following this micro-fandom for YEARS now, and it's one of those things that just keeps on giving. The amount of lost/missing content and the frickin nuked forum (I'm a survivor, baebee!!) really does sometimes make it feel like the universe is trying to wipe us out, but hey. ISFD fans are basically cockroaches. Killable in theory, but surprisingly hearty in an actual life or death of a fandom scenario.

As for the actual content of ISFD that I engage in, I'm a rare(?) case where I kinda dabble in everything. I can confidently say I'm a member of the ** original ** gen of fans, so I've been around for the noteable eras, and have obsessed over every major character group at one time or another, as well as some niche characters (Cyan and his 2 other fans, rise up 🔥🔥)

I gotta say though, I am currently obsessed with the mafia portion of the universe (and, tbh, by extension, the Marama family. They are to me what the Kardashians are to some)

In particular, Phillip Varic has been my consistent blorbo since last September. It is not an exaggeration to say I've averaged about 40 drawings of him a month since then (my friends and I have counted. I should be on my strange addiction at this point, tbh. Or seeking other professional insight)

Here's some of the doodles in question! I am not terribly good at finishing art of him, I just sketch him loosely and rotate him rapidly in my head

I just think he's so neat. And I think his stupid, codependant, and mildly dysfunctional mafia found-family are so neat. And I think his husband (seraphine) and wife (abram) are so neat. And all his kids, both the legal kids and the ones whom he mostly just pays college tuition for, they're neat to. And the echos of Magnolia throughout his life and the larger narrative, even decades later. That's also very neat (my heart doesn't hurt at all!)

I realize I kinda derailed from answering your original ask because the mafia brainrot is debilitating and chronic, but I'm not entirely sure how I'd go about answering it anyway because there is just. So, so much world and lore to glean from ISFD, and none of it in any easy or direct way. Honestly though? The mafia might not be a bad place to start? If you want, I can tell you as much as I know about the cast and dynamics of the mafia, because I feel like a lot of the mafia character's lore and backgrounds act as a good segway to other noteable aspects of the larger ISFD narratives and the in-world political climate as a whole (Especially Mask and Howard. Not to single those poor souls out, but genuinely. How are they both gonna be so afflicted by the narrative like that)

If you're still interested after I practically talked your ear off, I could totally make a larger post about the whole mafia :3 They're my special blorbos ❤️ I would not feel safe around them IRL, but trapped within the confines of fiction, they're all free for me to babygirlify with almost no consequences

[regretsofalifeandlovelost]

Male circumcision questions answered.

I get asked all the time about why I arrived at my love of circumcised penis'. You could read the entire back catalog of blog posts and see. However, I wanted to draw it out into a specific post.

I grew up in a family where circumcision was normal, that was the first type of penis that I saw, and that was normal for me. It was not until I did my nursing degree that I started being exposed to uncircumcised men. I wasn't sexually active until I was in my early 20's, so I had no direct experience sexually.

I was so self-conscious that I never self-satisfied myself, i.e., I never even masturbated. My boyfriends were both circumcised; I loved the look, and sucking them off was something that I loved to do. They never really stimulated me sexually; it was a case of me being the starfish and they fucking me until they came. I enjoyed that they could cum, but I didn't particularly enjoy sex. It wasn't uncomfortable or painful, I just felt so embarrassed about my body that I couldn't get into it.

My third partner was friends with benefits; he was so adventurous that he forced me to get into cowgirl and was teaching me about my body. I still never climaxed, but it was an important learning experience. I had the first indication of sexual enjoyment feeling his glands rubbing me internally. I met my long-term partner, the father of my two kids while enjoying the FWB. Our relationship was rocky; he appeared to want me to be more confident in my body, but I couldn't really get to that with his premature ejaculation problems. Sex would last a maximum of 2 minutes. The intimacy of our relationship never really hit any goals. Almost 20 years of that relationship until we went to a sex club, see original posts.

During my nursing degree, I worked in pediatrics and was involved in circumcising many infants. I, however, chose to specialise in aged care. It was during that time I was exposed to men who had not been circumcised and had developed chronic problems. This was particularly so when the patients had dementia. They would require so much additional care. With assistants, I would retract their foreskins after they had incontinence problems. They would regularly get infections. Many of these men would get circumcised while in care to reduce the burdens. As I moved from the palliative end of aged care into more assisted living nursing, I saw that phimosis and other foreskin ailments were so familiar. To put this into perspective, this was the age group that fought in WW2. Circumcision was probably done to around 80% of the men I cared for. The more mobile men who had problems and got circumcised universally said it was a life changer. They were always positive about it. The men who still had their life partners always talked of great feedback from their partners.

Circumcision was the done thing in our family; my partner was circumcised, and it was my personal preference that any boys we had would be circumcised. When we had a boy, we got him circumcised; others in our mother's group looked down on me and judged. I was happy with our decision. This became more apparent when, by the time most of the boys were 5-10 years old, three of the six had to be circumcised. Their mothers came to me wishing they had done it at birth because it was less traumatic.

As my long-term relationship started to fall apart, it was then that I really understood the benefits of circumcision. My first vaginal orgasm was with a tightly circumcised dick. He was circumcised as an adult, and wow. To this day, all sex is measured by how phenomenal that guy and dick were. Over the coming years, I slept with tens of men, and I only once had an uncircumcised man that has been able to make me cum vaginally. Even with really hung men who could scratch the spot, they have all ejaculated before I have even remotely gotten there. Some foreskins have been so long that they completely cover the glans even when erect. There's no enjoyment when the penis stimulates the foreskin and not the vagina.

I've now been with a man who I circumcised myself for a few months, and he absolutely loves it. Says that he would never want to go back which further builds the idea that circumcision IS best.

A few years ago, I had only slept with 5 men; now, I have slept with 80, and of those, most are shit, and I couldn't get a woman to climax if they prayed 20 times a day. The ones that could be all but one circumcised. It looks better and feels better for women. However, with any opinion, it is worth noting. A caring, circumcised lover is better than an uncaring, circumcised lover. Any good sex needs a build-up. All of my girlfriends with circumcised partners that don't climax talk about them just "stuffing it in".. guys that will never work. Foreplay is the secret, when the girl is wet she's going to be loving the glans. One aspect that I struggle with when dealing with uncircumcised penis' isn't the hygiene, that can be fixed. The arrogance of the guys who think it's okay to cum so quickly and leave women languishing. While I am sure there are circumcised men who do the same, it seems that in my experience, there's a very strong bias towards selfish lovers who are uncircumcised.

[theupsidedownsrealestateagent]

June 1986

Eddie Munson lived by the skin of his teeth, or rather the skin of whatever those demon bats didn’t chew like he was a discount steak at the worst grocery store in town. The healing process was exhausting, and humiliating. For his entire life he’s been able to be independent with just Wayne seeing his most vulnerable and carefully hidden parts of himself. The problem with fighting an evil wizard from hell isn’t the chronic pain and constant nightmares, but the ragtag stubborn family that follows after

While the Byers-Hopper family was in California packing to move back to Hawkins (why they would do that Eddie has no goddamn clue) Nancy, Robin, and Steve made Eddie’s and Max’s recovery their personal missions. Red he gets, she’s just a kid, a kid that’s been through this shit three times with them compared to Eddie’s measly one. Of course Eddie’s only Upside Down encounter would be the one that almost took him out. Even baby Wheeler hasn’t been this close to Death’s door. There was no reason for these former classmates to care this much. And yet they practically never left his side. He’d like to complain about it, but them helping out had taken a lot of the pressure off of Wayne’s shoulders, and that was the most important part of it for Eddie

If you told Eddie a year ago he’d be becoming close with King Steve himself he probably would’ve hissed at someone or just spoke some broken latin and let the general pop believe he was a demon. In hindsight that didn’t make it easier for Hawkins to believe he wasn’t a satanic serial killer. The point is he’s not supposed to be friends with people like Steve. Robin he gets, they make sense. His friendship with Nancy was surprising but after getting to know she was a complete and major dork, they clicked in a really cool way. But Steve? Steve was funny in a way that was different from anyone else Eddie knew. Steve cooked for him and his uncle during the toughest part of Eddie’s recovery, not well, but it was hot and filling. Steve held him as he cried from nightmares and when he was completely exhausted from his physical therapy appointments.

Eddie was in love with him and completely fucked.

***

The June heat was sweltering, Wayne was on a fishing trip, it was one of the first nights being left to his own devices since he could get around a lot better now. He was spending his solitude getting acquainted with his Darling, since his Sweetheart was destroyed and honestly now associated too much with death and near death experiences alike. The phone rings, Eddie grunts, stands and makes his way over to the phone, it takes him an embarrassing amount of time to get there with his aching knee, but he manages.

Before he could even get out a greeting the caller was already speaking, “Eddie hi! Hey Eddie, it’s me. Um me being Steve. Harrington. Shit you probably knew that–”

“Stevie, you have a shift with Robs today?” Eddie grabs a bit of hair to twist around his finger, lip bitten to hide his smile. No one’s home but him whose he trying to fool? Himself mostly. It’ll go away repeats in his head over and over waiting for Steve’s reply.

Steve chuckles into the line, Eddie’s heart is about to burst out of his chest Alien style. “Yeah we did have a shift together which I guess explains my totally out of character rambling. Don’t let that keep you from remembering what a cool and not dorky guy I am.”

“Hm sorry, but that’s not ringin’ any bells over here sweetheart, you sure we’re talking bout the same Steve? Steve Harrington? You know the major dork who babysits all these kinda freak kids who are definitely too old for babysitters?” Sweetheart? Sweetheart? Did he really just call his strictly platonic, straight friend sweetheart? It takes all of Eddie’s self control (which is admittedly extremely low already) not to brain himself with the heavy phone receiver.

Steve laughs a real genuine laugh at that. The rollercoaster of emotions Eddie is navigating through is enough to make his stomach hurt. “Apparently one in the same then.” He quiets after another small chuckle, and takes a deep breath, “Listen Eds I was wondering if you wanted to get out of the house for a bit? With me?“

"You know I actually am capable of taking care of myself for a few days even without a babysitter on standby? Just because Wayne’s not home doesn’t mean I’m about to croak in the night” Eddie huffed suddenly annoyed.

Steve lets out a tired sigh. Eddie’s gut twists in guilt at the sound. “Yeah I know that you drama queen, but um my parents are home actually. For once, and I. I just don’t want to be here tonight.” His voice goes even quieter, softer now, and filled with shyness, “I like spending time with you Eddie, even when I don’t have to make sure you aren’t dying in your sleep.”

“Give me twenty minutes to get ready.” Eddie goes for casual, he doesn’t think it works, given how fast the words leave his mouth.

***

If he didn’t die and come back a few months before today, he’d surely think he’s dead, or at least dreaming this moment, he’d sooner believe in a hell dimension… Damn he’s gotta get a new improbable scenario to describe the insane situation this moment absolutely is.

Okay so maybe it’s not as improbable as he’s making it out to be. Because obviously it is indeed happening.

Every summer Eddie always feels like a drowned rat, which is true today. His hair is frizzing everywhere, just sitting is causing him to sweat profusely. Steve however looks the best he’s ever looked, golden skin, perfect hair, his sun kissed face bringing out his freckles. He wants to reach out and touch, to stop himself he grabs his rubs at the twinge in his left knee. Steve clocks that action annoyingly quick. Maybe if he’s lucky Steve won’t call attention to it.

And because he’s a Munson the universe holds a giant middle finger to his prayers.“

How’s your knee today?” Steve asks him obviously trying to make it sound like a casual question, when they both know this is a long standing argument neither is backing down from.

Since he came home from the hospital Wayne and Steve have been conspiring to get him to use a cane. Which okay. Whatever. But at what point was using the cane just admitting defeat? He’s supposed to be getting better. Is getting better. Adding a cane to the mix was like adding a crutch (ironic but it emphasizes the point) he didn’t want or need. So sure, sometimes there will be days he can barely get out of bed to take a piss, but maybe if he kept at it, he’d be able to play, and jump around on stage like he’s always dreamed of.

“Fine, Steven,” Eddie bites out, because he’s nothing if not petulant.

Steve barks a laugh, Eddie’s heart drops into his ass, “Aw c’mon don’t Steven me, I just told you my parents are home.” He pouts but his eyes are shining so brightly with mirth.

Eddie scoffs and takes a piece of his hair to give his fingers something not stupid to do, like grabbing Steve’s lip and giving it a tug. “Yeah, I know, you good though? Or should I go grab Nancy for a little chat with good ol Rich Harrington?”

“Oh my god, you’re a menace. Did you know that?” Deflecting, Eddie notices.

“It’s been mentioned, alongside satanic cult leading murderer, but you know I get menace every now and then.

”Steve’s brows furrow, he looks at Eddie almost like he’s searching for something, he must’ve found it because he shakes his head and moves their conversation along, “Well I happen to know you’re innocent, and I also know your dinner order at Flo’s place. One grilled cheese with tomato, pickle on the side, curly fries, and mostly because I think you’re special, a strawberry and mint chocolate chip milkshake.” He holds the cup and wags it a little before putting it in what has become Eddie’s dedicated cup holder.

Eddie gasped, and his eyes started to take up most of his face, “No fucking way man, there’s no way you swung that. I’ve been begging Flo to do that for years! How the hell did you manage that?”

“Okay so I know this totally sounds like a cool line but I promise you it's the truth, but Eds, if I told you I’d have to kill you, then probably myself.” Eddie starts to laugh and Steve can only roll his eyes. “Flo is scary dude!”

“Says Hawkins residential monster hunter, huh a little waitress is scarier than a full grown Demogorgan?”

“No contest! I’d even take the junkyard ‘dogs’ a hundred times over before double crossing Florence Foster. And anyone who says otherwise has a death wish.” Steve starts pulling out his own dinner, his sun pink cheeks matching the setting sun. He must catch Eddie staring because he clears his throat and gestures for Eddie to fiddle with the radio.

It takes him a few minutes to settle on a station, but then he just ends up on his go to metal station. 102.9 The Metal Shop hosted by none other than the annoying Master Metal. Like seriously, he couldn’t come up with anything better? But it gets the job done. Plus it’s normie enough that Steve’s able to tolerate and even like some of it.

So they talk, and the night is warm but there’s a breeze now so they’re able to roll their windows down. Steve’s hair is lightly blowing around every few gusts. He looks so beautiful, and Eddie can feel his cheeks getting hot, he’s choosing to blame it on the heat. He’s also choosing to believe the swooping feeling in his gut every time Steve laughs is due to the greasy take out.

Before he can start believing in any other of his made up bullshit Master Metal cuts in declaring that for the next sixty minutes will be the dreaded Dedication Hour. He groans and goes to change it, but his wrist is now caught in Steve’s hand.

“What’s your problem? You love this station.” And Steve’s head is tilted in that way where he looks exactly like a dog in one of those shelter commercials.

Eddie is kind of baffled by this whole interaction, so he says exactly what his problem is, “Yeah of course I do, but it’s the Dedication Hour, they’re going to play the same bullshit non metal love songs, because people think they have a better chance to get their song on than all the other appropriate stations for their pedestrian tastes. No offense I'm sure that’s very much up your alley Romeo. You got a song on there for one of your many conquests eh Casanova?” Jesus Christ, even he knows he’s laying it on thick.

“First gross don’t call them conquests ,” He throws a fry at Eddie’s face, who in turn picks it up and dips it into his milkshake and laughs at the revolted face Steve makes. “Second, no I didn’t. That’s too romantic, maybe I would've for Nancy, but that wasn’t really her thing anyway.” His eyes stay on his hands, he takes a shaky breath, looks up at Eddie through his lashes. “Eds I’ve got a confession.”

All of the air gets punched right out of his lungs, he has to basically wheeze out an okay Stevie, eyes hopefully conveying to Steve to continue.

Steve sighs, tan hand scrubbing at his jaw, clearly nervous. He’s avoiding Eddie’s eyes, “My parents aren’t home Eddie.” He pauses, in that pause Eddie’s heart crumbles of course that’s what it is. So he’ll sweep up his heart to be put back together much later, and instead comfort his friend. Because at the end of the day, as much as he wants Steve, he’ll also take what he can get, so if Steve only ever offers friendship he will happily take it.

“Oh Stevie–”

“I just wanted to spend time with you Eddie, and I thought if I told you I needed a distraction from my shitty parents, it would’ve hid what I want to say, what I’ve wanted to say since fucking April.” He’s running a hand through his hair, completely flushed now. He’s never been more beautiful.

For the first time in his life Eddie doesn’t feel the need to run in order to avoid inevitlby fucking up what could be a good thing, a great thing. “Eddie Munson, I am so unbelievably infatuated with you, I want to kiss you so fucking badly baby, and and if I’m overstepping you’ve got to tell me Eddie because I’m two seconds away from just doing it even if you end up punching me.” His hand comes up, his thumb brushes away tears Eddie didn’t even know he was shedding.

“Steve Harrington, you are something special.” With a watery laugh Eddie’s hands are now cupping Steve’s face, his eyes are taking in every single detail, before he knows it they are both leaning in.

The kiss is soft, slow, and more tender than it has any right to be. They both took their time, afraid to break this delicate bubble they found themselves. This goes on for a few minutes longer until Steve, reluctantly, and annoyingly pulls away. Eddie huffs, and Steve has the nerve to fucking giggle.

Grabbing Eddie’s hand, he plays with the rings on his fingers, “I have one more thing to say.” He is quiet now, almost shy as if they weren’t just swapping spit two seconds ago. “Um so, this isn’t a casual thing for me Eddie. I like you in the way, where this has the potential for me to be forever, and I don’t want to lose you for being too much too fast, but this is something I can’t negotiate on. If we do this, it has to be the real thing. And if you don’t feel the same, we can forget this and pretend I didn’t ruin our friendship.

Eddie’s shocked that Steve could think he wouldn’t, couldn’t, feel the exact same way, if not more. “I don’t want to forget this Steve, this could be my forever too, I want it to be forever. I think we should do this, I’m all in big boy.”

They laugh, they kiss, and eventually Dedication Hour is over. Hand on his sore knee rubbing soothing circles that ease the pain a bit, Steve suggests going back to Eddie’s to have a real adult conversation about what they’re starting. To which Eddie agrees so long as after they’re done talking they can have an adult conversation with their bodies, and Steve pushes him back in his seat rolling his eyes before enthusiastically agreeing.

December 1986

It’s freezing out and yet Eddie couldn’t be warmer if he tried. There they sat in Eddie’s van, two pizza boxes between them, because according to Steve, Eddie’s preferred pizza toppings are abhorrent. Eddie has tried to argue but almost everyone he knows complains about his pineapple, peperoni, and mushroom pizza. A heavenly combination, especially when he compares it to Steve’s ham and extra olive monstrosity.

“You know babe, when I said we should grab dinner tonight, I was thinking something a little, I don’t know… balanced.” Steve sighed, while shoveling another bite in his mouth Eddie notices. Eyes squinting at his boyfriend’s hypocrisy.

Eddie opens his mouth to argue, “Steve, Stevie, Sweetheart. It’s Pizza Hut, it even has a salad bar.”

“Eds we got takeout.” Steve deadpans.

“Yeah but the salad is out in the open air getting its nutrients on the pizzas by osmosis.”

“There’s no way that’s true.”

“What, you don’t trust me?” Eddie asks, feigning shock. “Don’t forget I’ve taken biology three times.”

“Even if you were right, this definitely is not covered under biology.”

“Well what the hell do I know anyways? I had to take biology three times.”

“Oh my god.” Steve’s trying to sound annoyed but the fond smile on his face is betraying him.

Seeing that look on Steve’s face nearly melts Eddie. In the last six months of dating Eddie’s sap meter has gone way up, and like the sap he’s turned into (ignoring the fact Wayne keeps wrongly insisting Eddie has always been a sap) he can’t help but lean into it. Steve makes him want to be that guy, that boyfriend. Which is why Eddie set up this whole night.

Eddie spent his whole childhood being told by his sperm donor that the Munson Curse existed and that’s why their lives were so bad. Absolutely nothing to do with Al’s poor life choices, that long effected his son even after getting locked up. But nights like this, with the snow falling, with Steve’s pink cheeks, and warm laugh, it has to mean something. It has to be the universe’s way of apologizing for all the bad shit. His mom dying, his ‘dad’ being a piece of shit, his near interdimensional death, having to now use a cane to get around, and not to mention all of the horrible stuff Steve’s been through, maybe it all wasn’t in vain.

So maybe the universe wasn’t so bad. It’s not great, every day is still a fucking struggle to get through. But the man next to him, made the hurt a little more dull.

The low radio pulls Eddie back to the present. Master Metal in the middle of announcing the dedication hour, when in the corner of his eye he sees Steve hands reach to change the station. Without thinking Eddie grabs Steve’s hands and entwines their fingers.

Steve turns toward Eddie, brows lifting with a questioning tilt. “I think I’ll survive one night of cheesy love songs sweetheart.”

“Uh huh, who are you and what did you do with my boyfriend?”

Eddie rolls his eyes, “I contain multitudes.”

“Since when?”

“April.” Which silences Steve who is very much biting his lip to avoid smiling.

In the brief silence that follows their conversation Master Metal is speaking again, “And now for the first dedication. For Big Boy,” Steve’s eyes shoot to Eddie, he goes to speak but Eddie just squeezes his hand, and whatever Steve was about to say dies on his tongue. “The last six months have been the best of my life. The fact that I’m even still alive is all because of you with the help of the family we’ve been able to build together. I love you, with every fiber in my being. I used to be so scared of loving anyone, running at the first sign of a good thing, but you are the best thing, the only thing. And I’m done running, so I’ll love you as long as you’ll let me, even while trekking back into Mordor. Love forever and always Joan Jett. Now here’s Journey’s 1982 hit Open Arms. ”

Steve is crying, big, fat tears, looking at Eddie almost in disbelief. He takes a grounding breath before frantically throwing the pizza boxes in the back. With the boxes out of the way Eddie finds himself with a lap full of Steve, which he’d never complain about.

With a hand gently stroking Eddie’s hair, and the other hand cupping his jaw, Steve leans in and gives Eddie’s forehead a kiss. Then both his eyes, his nose, his cheeks, finally his lips. Steve basically breathes his next words, “I love you too, so fucking much.” A pause, then a smirk flashes across his face, “Joan.”

Eddie’s eyes are now misty, but that doesn’t stop him from groaning at Steve’s response. “I confess my love for you and you tease me for my alias. For shame Steven for shame.”

“You’re right I’m sorry, this is genuinely the most romantic thing anyone has done for me you know.”

“I know it baby, but you Steve Harrington, you deserve all the big gestures. And I’ll spend the rest of our lives proving to you just how easy you are to love.”

Steve doesn’t even say anything to that, just lets his body do the talking, he’s attempting to pour in every last bit of his love for Eddie into the kiss, while not so subtly tugging his boyfriend into the back of the van.

Eddie’s laughing again, “No way gorgeous, I’m taking you home so I can show you just how much I love you. We are not going to defile the van after confessing our love to one another.”

“When did you become sensible?”

“I’ve been keeping company with some good influences.”

“I love you, Eddie Munson.”

“I love you, Steve Harrington.”

[lyraeon]

at 20 I thought I was faking my depression and was "bad at life" and lazy like my family said. I still earnestly believed I was entirely straight and everyone knew girls are just nicer to look at. I still had a ton of ingrained racism and other bigotry from my Bush-worshipping family. My main dream of being an astronaut had been smashed by my anxiety and health problems, so I was trying to study Japanese because like every other weeb I thought I'd fit in better over there (lol), but I'd already flunked out of one college and been forced to quit another to get a second job. I was overdrawn constantly and often buying gas station gift cards at the grocery store so I'd only take one overdraft fee. I was dating someone horribly controlling who eventually earned the title "evil ex", dialed up my eating disorder, and traumatized me out of writing for 2+ years. I had several roommates because we all considered having the funds to go to anime conventions more important than personal space (and because back then we already thought $600/month was expensive). I spent any other free time half asleep at a friend's house cuz there I could play games and watch Intent videos. Half my meals came free from work, the rest were hacked together from stuff that worked out to $1/serving or so. The power or internet got turned off at least twice a year from non-payment.

at 25 I thought I was too depressed to deserve burdening others with my presence or existence. that I was a burden and purposeful downer and nothing would ever get better. I was still dealing with a ton of internalized transphobia, racism, and other bigotry that I had been taught was Just The Truth and still occasionally fall into. I was massively straight edge against weed and anything else (threatened to call cops on close friends) while also being a half bottle of vodka a day alcoholic just to get my brain to shut up enough to let me write or sleep. I didn't know how to have fun without alcohol, if at all. I had lost my ability to draw when I severely injured my wrist while i had no insurance. I tried going back to school, first for architecture then teaching, and flunked/dropped out of both. I was losing jobs every 6~8 months from being chronically late and being sick constantly. I manged to lose one on my birthday and wound up having to make some other tough choices because of it. I had only just reached the point where being overdrawn was a rare thing and I wasn't buying single gallons of gas with tip money. food was still often just ramen but I no longer had days where I didn't know if I'd get to eat, though I was often dependent on my then-bf. I had multiple teeth rotting and couldn't afford any treatment besides getting them pulled, and often not until they'd become infected.

by 30 I was finally on antidepressants and in therapy. I was on the road to physical therapy for shoulder and wrist injuries that had happened years earlier. I was pretty happy in my relationship. I held down one job for almost 3 years straight after getting medicated, then turned around and flunked/dropped out of college for the 5th time (Physics this time) because I was too anxious to take public transit reliably and STILL couldn't do homework anywhere but in class, so most projects never got done. I'd stopped being able to write (and am still running from the possibility my meds Took That from me because it doesn't come back if I stop them). Food had become a different struggle - I no longer had time, physical health, or executive function to cook reliably so I was spending too much on take out and causing wild fluctuations in my weight. I was hiding my eating disorder from my partner and my friends. I had begrudgingly un-estranged myself from my family to support younger cousins as they came out as queer. I had developed a healthier relationship with alcohol. I had accepted that, outside of addiction, drugs are a bodily autonomy thing and stopped being an ass to people about them. I had finally learned some damn etiquette around things like not accidentally outing people. I started streaming and making videos - stuff I had dreamed of since first watching Dead Fantasy and Red vs Blue and Weeblstuff in high school but had thought impossible after I lost the ability to draw.

I'm currently 35. This year I am living on my own for the first time (aside from 5 failed months at 18). I got divorced - a complicated, regretful process that was ultimately for the best but I could and should have handled better (and sooner). I've been in physical therapy long enough that I'm able to use chopsticks properly again and am thinking of trying to relearn drawing. It's also meant I can do the dishes and wash my hair on my own again, most days, so I'm relearning how to cook consistently. I'm reading (listening to) books again. I'm on year 8 of antidepressants and currently working with my doctor to fine tune what I'm on (and finally have a system to take them consistently). I've been diagnosed with ADHD and figured out I might also be autistic, and a lot of things in my life make way more sense when viewed through that context. I have appointments to get evaluated for ADHD meds, autism, shoulder surgery/other "PT isn't enough" treatments, teeth implants, and new glasses. my clothes have been put away 3 of the last 5 times I did laundry and I've learned that if I only own one dishwasher worth of dishes, the sink can't pile up. I've fully embraced that I'm polyamorous, pansexual, and demiromantic, and that I can be cis while also being "gender agnostic" - none of it really matters or processes to me, but I get that it does to others so I respect it. I'm seeing someone who makes me feel like I can do anything, is inspiringly ambitious themself, and is equally polyam, meaning I might also be asking out a cute girl soon and don't know where board game nights with the nice throuple I met might go. I'm having to do odd jobs and accept help from my dad to make ends meet, but I'm arguably a full time content creator now - something I literally didn't even let myself dream about when I was younger because it felt impossible, but which is fully worth the complications and budget crunching because it's so accommodating to my disabilities and uses so many of my talents. I'm still depressed, but I have hope that ADHD treatment will help cut through the remainder. Most days I just have hope, period. And more days than not, I'm genuinely happy for at least a while.

You'll find yourself.

It might take a while. There will be detours, mistakes, pain, tough choices, and a lot of hard work. But there will also be unexpected joys and more possibilities than you ever imagined.

Someday, you'll find yourself.

And when you do, it will be worth the wait, I promise.

[no27-autonation-honda]

thank you to @mossistyping and @oxygenpdf for the tag!

Do you make your bed? I really really try to... but i usually do it when i come home these days.

Favourite number? usually 4, but I also am fond of 2, 13 (because I thought it was sad when i was little that it was unlucky). Also huge fan of 11 and 21.

What's your job? technically graduate student, but I also work in a grocery store (ugh)

If you could go back to school, would you? sort of. I think I'd love to get another bachelors if I had the chance but also. Deadlines. my enemy. (also grad school kicked my ASS this year)

Can you parallel park? I cannot drive, so the answer is not really. however in theory I know how to and have done so successfully (once)

Do you think aliens are real? kinda? not in a way that impacts us, really.

Can you drive a manual car? no!!!!

Guilty pleasure? I have an unironic love of reality television and although it is hilariously academic, man do i love some trashy reality tv. I also love watching just. terrible movies or movies that definitely aren't good or possibly good enough to be even cult classics. this is what novelty seeking does to a motherfucker friends. this is also not much of a guilty pleasure but damn do i love nothing more than an international soap opera.

Tattoos? none yet, but if i ever get over my pain tolerance and fear of needles i have a few i'd like.

Favourite colour? green!

Favourite type of music? I've been very fond of art pop and baroque pop recently, that caroline polachek and florence and the machine type of stuff.

Do you like puzzles? fuckin LOVE a puzzle

Favourite childhood sport? archery! it's not even close! I miss shooting so badly and have every day since I stopped around fifteen/sixteen.

Do you talk to yourself? constantly, and it gets me in trouble.

Tea or coffee? tea.

First thing you wanted to be when growing up? either a shark scientist or a coroner (i am serious, i literally wanted to be a medical examiner when I was little)

What movies do you adore? The Spirit of the Beehive (1973) by Victor Erice. It's a movie about a family in Franco's Spain in the 40s, and it is the most beautifully shot movie I have seen in my entire life. There is a very specific sequence somewhere around halfway into the film with a character playing piano (I think) that absolutely left me breathless the first time I saw it because of how it's framed and how the lighting looks. I think about this film so fucking often. please please watch it if you ever get the chance. Honorable mention to Kurosawa's Ikiru (1952), a movie i watched for the same class I watched Beehive for, and literally cried for almost the entire movie because it really hit close to home in a lot of ways. uh. both of these movies are kind of bananas heavy (so if u watch them, which u should, please do so in a good mental state and mind trigger warnings for death and family dysfunction in both, overt fascism in the first one, and chronic/terminal illness in the second, and probably look up trigger warnings for either ahead of time) so for a fun one, Bringing Up Baby (1938). this movie involves: cary grant as a sexy and beleaguered paleontologist, a missing dinosaur bone, katherine hepburn being so fucking hot and such a fucking problem for everyone in the world and especially cary grant, and of all fucking things, a fucking leopard. it is legitimately one of the funniest fucking movies I have ever watched in my life and i actually fully believe it is a movie every last person should watch at least once before they die. I recommend going in blind as possible and perhaps watching with your best friend who also knows nothing about the film.

tagging @two-tyred-problems @nautical-nasa @stockcarbaby24 and @theladysherlock

[clotpolesonly]

Niall Lives AU sounds very interesting!!! I've never read one either except a non-magical au. How would it go do you think? Or any headcanons?

(sorry this took me 3 days, and i hope you're prepared for how long it got cuz i have a chronic life-long inability to summarize, also there's no ending cuz it's an ongoing narrative that lives in my brain, sorry not sorryyyy)

OKAY SO, generally speaking, i fall somewhere in between Niall hater and Niall apologist, i have complicated opinions on Niall as both a character and a father. however, i am first and foremost above all else a Declan girlie, and therefore, for the purposes of this concept, i err on the side of Niall hater 😂 (cw for child abuse afkdljgh)

because what i want most out of this AU is for Niall's secrets to come out while he's still alive. canonically, Declan sort of inherited the burden of Niall's lies. he became personally responsible for them when he chose to carry them forward and keep keeping them when Niall was no longer around to enforce that keeping, but the root of the problem for most of their lives was Niall and his choices.

after spending much time musing on the concept, i realized that i end up with almost an inverted Declan & Ronan dynamic, without the loss of Niall to catalyze them in the directions we know them to have gone in -- Declan shutting down and repressing/denying any love he had for his father because he didn't want to feel the pain of his loss, and Ronan putting his father up on an untouchable pedestal and foisting his father's flaws solely onto Declan instead.

without that loss, Declan still loves and obeys his dad. for all the problems he may have with his father and the way he does things, which is plenty, he is still his father's obedient right hand. and without that loss, when the secrets come out, Ronan isn't searching for a scapegoat. he's seeing his father plainly and realizing that he is a liar. that what Declan does, he does because Niall told him to.

Declan, conflicted but loyal. Ronan, betrayed and disillusioned.

it's a really interesting role reversal that i personally think is entirely in character under these conditions.

SO, as for the specifics:

i figure Niall is attacked in the driveway but lives. probably Greenmantle only called for intimidation, rather than a hit, to try and strong-arm the Lynches into giving him what he wants. he was making a point.

the point is successfully made and Declan, at least, is deeply stressed by this. they came to the house, dad, they know where we live and you could've been killed. what happens then? what am i supposed to do then? what happens to us when they take you out and you take mom down with you? (bonus points if Niall hadn't realized Declan was old enough to remember that Aurora was a dreamt replacement. they've certainly never discussed it.)

he thinks Niall needs to be more careful, that he's in over his head, that he can't keep running off half-cocked or running his mouth off without thinking of the consequences. he thinks they should read Ronan in, because he's the one these people are fucking looking for and he's not made any safer by not knowing there's a target on his back.

Niall thinks he's worrying too much. Niall thinks he's got the situation under control. Niall doesn't appreciate having his way of doing business questioned. it takes three or four arguments about it before they both lose their temper, before Declan calls Niall selfish for putting the whole family at risk, before Niall slaps him for it. if Declan doesn't like the way he handles things, his father says, he should go back to playing in the mud with Matthew, let the grown-ups worry about business.

Ronan is in the hall when Declan leaves. he was planning on giving Declan shit for giving dad shit when he's recovering from, ya know, being beaten half to death, and can't Declan chill the fuck out for five fucking seconds?? all the yelling and fighting is upsetting Matty 😤 but he stops dead when he sees the red mark on Declan's cheek.

"dad thinks he's invincible," is all Declan says. "and we're the ones who are gonna pay for it."

Ronan is.....destabilized. trying to rationalize away what he saw and what he knows it means with what he (thinks he) knows of his father. it just doesn't compute. it can't be what it looked like. right? he checks on dad, asks what they were fighting about. dad says he and Declan had "a gentleman's disagreement", nothing to worry about. there's not a single new mark on him. (if it had been mutual, Ronan could've accepted it. like a boxing match. but that's not what this was. he can't convince himself otherwise. not when he's getting the feeling, for the first time, that his dad is lying to him about something important.)

now Ronan has questions. he's suddenly got a lot of questions. dad said it's business stuff and not to worry about it. when he asks mom what he and Declan have been arguing about, she says they're just too similar not to butt heads. don't worry about it. but he IS worrying, and being waved off only makes him worried and mad.

no answers from dad or mom. so brother it is, then. he drags Declan out to spar with him. Declan's got some serious pent up frustrated-frantic-feral energy to work out, and that only gets worse when Ronan springs the question on him -- what the hell is going on?

Declan, already anxious af and now feeling distinctly cornered, says to ask dad. Ronan says he did and if one more person blows him off he's gonna lose his shit. Declan doesn't have an answer that he's allowed to give, and that feels even more like shit than it always feels because Ronan doesn't sound whiny and bratty like he usually does when he complains about being left out of grown up stuff. he sounds serious. genuinely concerned. Declan still tries to evade, so Ronan pivots to another angle of attack.

"has dad hit you before? or was that the first time?"

even as it feels like a punch to the sternum, Declan has to give him credit for the way the question is phrased. either/or, two options both incriminating, no option on the table for "he never did that". it's the kind of rhetorical trick used by cops and lawyers. cleverer than he usually gives Ronan credit for.

it's a reasonable consequence, he says. you yell at your father and you get punished for it. even Ronan couldn't have gotten away with what he'd said (probably). he's not expecting Ronan to argue back that it depends on why you're yelling. Ronan's never taken his side before, never defended him. (he'd never really thought that Declan needed defending.)

"please," Ronan says. "none of this is right. i just wanna know what's going on with my family."

Declan cracks. not all the way, but enough to admit that dad's business is......not exactly aboveboard. there have been some unsavory dealings and that's why dad was hurt. he did some stupid, reckless shit and it followed him home. (he doesn't say that he's expressly forbidden from telling Ronan even this much, even if he certainly can't forget about it himself.)

Ronan tries to be mature and reasonable and cautious when he confronts his dad about it, but frankly, confronting him in the first place was not particularly well thought out. he has the forethought to not start off the conversation with "Declan told me you're a criminal" at least, lmao, but he's kinda sorta on Declan's side here?? Niall keeps saying that Declan is worrying too much, but, like

"oh Declan worries so much, Declan needs to relax -- people came to our house and attacked you with a fucking tire iron, dad!!! maybe Declan's worrying the right amount!!!"

Niall does not appreciate Ronan's tone. (he also does not appreciate his children unionizing.)

Ronan's so upset that it's easy to dismiss him. so emotional, so worked up, so childish. this is why he didn't tell Ronan anything before, he knew he wouldn't be able to handle it.

his dad has never talked to him this way, dismissive and condescending, deliberately undercutting his confidence. he's never made Ronan feel bad about himself (at least not in a way that Ronan could tell it's on purpose), but now Ronan leaves feeling small and insignificant and twisted up inside.

Niall has a talk with Declan. he expresses his displeasure that Declan could be so willful and loose-lipped as to go sharing their secrets around. hasn't he made it clear how important secrecy is? has he failed as a father if this is how his son behaves? their secrets are crucial for the safety of their family, look at what already happened, and that was just because some unsavory people learned things they shouldn't have.

as far as shaming tactics go, it's very effective. shifting blame onto Declan, as if it wasn't his own loose lips that put them in this position. he digs up some incident from YEARS ago, when Declan was a kid, to use against him, which both hurts and is so fucking unfair that Declan snaps again. Ronan deserves to know this stuff, he's a target as much as Niall is. he's old enough to know what he's involved in and it's not fair for Niall to --

Niall slaps him again. (twice in one week. that's a record.)

"he's not involved in anything, and you won't be either if you don't learn your place, son."

Declan has never been afraid of his father. this isn't a regular thing, maybe two or three times over the course of his adolescence, and he's never really felt he had reason to fear for his safety. what he is afraid of is falling out of favor. (further out of favor, i should say.) he's afraid of disappointing Niall. he's afraid of losing his position at Niall's side, of not being trusted or needed anymore. being cast aside. being abandoned.

it's the most effective threat his father could've levied against him.

Ronan corners him at school the next day. (he would've tried talking to him before school, but Declan left the house early specifically to avoid him.) he's not even sure exactly what he wants to talk about, it's just a general big mess of bad emotions in his chest and the feeling that, somehow, he and Declan are in this together now in a way they've never been before. only to finally find Declan on campus and notice that the bruising on his cheek is worse today than it was yesterday. bigger. fresher.

he suddenly wants to set things on fire. Declan tries, again, to put him off. he's not supposed to be talking to Ronan. last time he talked to Ronan, he fucked up. if he fucks up again, dad is gonna be so mad. Ronan is a persistent little fuck, though, and he keeps pushing, keeps asking questions, keeps saying that they need to fucking talk about this and they can't keep him in the dark and Declan agreed yesterday that they shouldn't and --

Declan snaps that he never should've told Ronan anything.

the only reason Ronan doesn't follow him when he walks away to [react however tf he's gonna react, even he's honestly not sure, but it probably wouldn't have been pretty] is that Gansey finds them then and intervenes. they've only been friends for a couple of months, but he already knows it's safest for the Lynch brothers' tempers to steer clear of each other on campus. esp when Ronan has been distinctly out of sorts all week.

he invites Ronan over to continue helping him clear out monmouth manufacturing, aware that invitations to talk are more often met with scoffing and jokes than they are with actual talking. and Ronan, as much as he kinda sorta desperately does want to talk about all this shit actually, is pretty sure that he can't, or he shouldn't, or they're not Close Enough™ for this kind of shit yet, or something.

he does end up telling Gansey a little bit. everything is awful and wrong and confusing, and he feels like he might explode, so he tells Gansey that his dad's into something. there's something going on, something big, and Declan knows about it, but nobody's telling him anything.

Gansey doesn't push for details, even though he is......concerned. he's polite like that. he makes a point that he is available to provide support, should Ronan need it.

they pass aglionby as Gansey is driving Ronan back to the barns. and that's when they stumble upon part II of Greenmantle's plan -- Declan, having had a run-in of his own with the Gray Man. not in fantastic shape, but it was, again, intimidation more than anything. a statement made that none of them are safe.

a mugging, Declan says. Gansey has his doubts, but he helps Ronan get Declan into the passenger seat of the volvo so Ronan can drive him home. asks carefully if this is part of that Big Bad Something.

Ronan remembers his dad, shortly after his own assault, clapping him on the shoulder and saying there was nothing to worry about....but also that he shouldn't bring Gansey around for a little while, just in case. all said with an easy laugh. no explanation, no indication that it might be dangerous for Gansey, or for his own fucking sons.

just a mugging, Ronan says. he'll be fine. thanks for the help.

in the car, fear taken over by anger because anger is so much easier to handle, "are you gonna try and bullshit me with this mugger story?"

and Declan, so fucking tired.

"I told you we would be the ones paying for it."

Ronan loses his shit a little bit at Niall. he's lucky mom and Matthew aren't home, cuz he ain't quiet about it. he wants to know what the FUCK is going on, everything. who is after them? why?? how much fucking danger are they in? how dare their dad keep something like this secret? it's his fault that now Declan's gotten hurt too.

Declan tries reining him in. as bitter and resentful as he may be that Ronan can yell at their dad like this and get away with it unscathed, that doesn't mean he wants Ronan pushing his luck. (Ronan sort of wants to. a big part of him wonders what it would take for dad to hit him too.)

it's a giant mess of a confrontation, emotions running high for everyone, and Niall takes a cheap shot at Declan for getting in the middle of it. something about not being able to handle himself, how one thug could take him down and Niall thought he raised him better than that. something about meddling in things that are none of his business. which pisses Ronan off because, hey, Declan is the only one who's even trying to tell him the truth about anything.

Niall, again, does not like this. he doesn't want his sons on the same side, against him. that's not a scenario where he has the power anymore. and so.

"Declan tells you the truth, eh?" he sneers. "are you sure about that? go on, son, ask him what else he's keeping from you."

because why would he require his sons to keep secrets from each other? why would he go out of his way to make sure that they didn't and couldn't communicate about things that were so formative to both their lives? why would he keep such a tight leash on information that did not need to be hidden within the family unit itself?

so that he can weaponize it to drive a wedge between them someday, if need be. control information, control emotions, control behavior.

deflect Ronan's anger away from him and toward Declan instead.

throw Declan entirely under the bus for a secret that was not his decision to keep.

Declan, stunned. betrayed. it takes him a moment to process what his dad is doing here, that he's being sabotaged. because it's not the business or the dreaming in general that he's being put on the spot for here, it's Ronan's dreaming. that Declan has always known about it. a secret that he knows, and his dad knows, is liable to destroy whatever fragile relationship he has with his brother.

"what do you..." Ronan looks between them. Declan, pale and horrified and wounded. Niall, sharp-eyed and satisfied. he would've called his dad a liar if it weren't for the ringing silence. now his stomach is already sinking. "Declan, what does he mean?"

Declan retreats. Ronan chases after, even though he's got plenty more words for his father, even though he knows on some level that he's being manipulated on purpose, because he can't just not know. he follows Declan out to the barn they do their boxing in -- anywhere but where dad is, as far away as Declan can get -- and begs him for the whole truth. there's no solid ground under his feet at this point. he feels like his entire life has been a lie, everything he thought he knew turned upside down and inside out. please, Deklo, just tell me.

and Declan is just.... he's injured from getting interrogated by a fucking mercenary hit man a few hours ago, everything hurts and he's got blood dripping in his eye and his dad's cruel words are bouncing around in his head still and everything is falling apart around him and it's all his fault and there's nothing he can do about it because Ronan is there, looking somehow young and scared and more grown up than he's ever looked at the same time, staring at Declan like he's got the answers when Declan knows the only answers he has are gonna ruin them.

but there's nothing left to hide behind. so he tells Ronan. that dad's business isn't cows or artifacts. that he knows what dad can do, what he can create. that that's what he's selling.

and maybe Ronan shouldn't be as caught off guard by that as he is, but it's one secret that's been so deeply buried that it doesn't even occur to him that anyone might know about it, not even his brother. there's the immediate, instinctive feeling of threat. of fear.

Ronan, through a tight throat: "you.....you know about dad's dreaming?"

Declan, resigned and so so tired: "and i know about yours."

Ronan feels like he's been suckerpunched. this is a load-bearing secret, okay, a secret that his entire life and sense of self have been built around. he cycles through so many emotions so fast, he doesn't know what he's feeling, but anger is the easiest to grab hold of. especially with Declan, who's always been quick to hit back.

he doesn't hit back now, though. not when Ronan shoves him back against the wall, not when he growls "how long have you known? why didn't you fucking say anything?"

because the only answer he has is "dad said." dad said it was for the best, dad said he had his reasons, dad said to trust him, dad said to do as he was told. and he's been saying it for years, since Declan was far too young to know how to be properly skeptical. it's not that Declan didn't want to tell him. he's been pushing for dad to tell him, for weeks they've been arguing about it, but dad was adamant they keep the secret.

Ronan demands to know why dad would do it, why he would keep all this from him, why he would make Declan keep things from him, and he's so full of bad feeling that he wants to hit something, and that's the moment he realizes.

that was the reason. this right here was the reason the whole time, this is what Niall wants. he stumbles back, suddenly sick to his stomach. he turns his back and just stands for a while, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes and breathing, trying to wrap his head around the understanding he's coming to. he doesn't get less angry. more angry, honestly. but he thinks of the wounded look on Declan's face when dad turned on him. the look of satisfaction on dad's. and he makes the conscious decision that Declan is not the person he's angry at.

dad said, dad said, dad said

what is a kid supposed to do if not what his parents tell him to?

by the time he's wrangled his feelings down into something he can manage, for now, Declan has slid down the barn wall to sit on the floor, head down and hands on the back of his neck. he looks small. and Ronan, not knowing what the fuck else to do but needing to do something now that he's resolved not to vent his boiling rage in Declan's direction, snatches up the first aid kit. Declan's still got a bleeding cut on his forehead and his knuckles are scraped to hell from the few hits he got in against the Gray Man before he went down.

Declan just stares at him as he rummages around for antiseptic and shit, trying to figure out why Ronan isn't yelling anymore. this is one of those moments where saying nothing feels safer, though, so he doesn't risk asking. he lets Ronan pour peroxide over his knuckles and dab at his forehead in careful silence and it's not until Ronan is putting a butterfly bandage on his forehead -- cut not bad enough for stitches, at least -- that Ronan breaks it.

"were you scared? is that why you didn't tell me, even though you wanted to?"

"i'm not scared of dad."

and he's not lying, per se. he's not afraid of Niall in the way Ronan's implying. (at least, he wasn't before this week. the tight fear pulling at his chest now when he thinks of going back inside is.....new.) he doesn't think that Ronan, of all people, could ever understand what he was truly afraid of. Ronan, the favorite, the golden child, has never been made to feel like he's disposable. replaceable. like his worthiness of love and acceptance has conditions.

this right here -- Niall deciding he no longer cared about Declan at all -- is what he was afraid of.

he reiterates that this is an outlier. it's not a regular thing. Ronan asks if dad calling him names is a regular thing. Declan points out that Ronan calls him names all the time.

"i'm your little brother! i'm supposed to give you shit, and you give it right back, and that's how brothers work. you're not supposed to get shit from your father. and you're definitely not supposed to get hit when you try to give it back for once."

(Ronan is the only one allowed to bully his brother, thank you very much. and it's only fun when it doesn't actually hurt.)

Declan's done talking about it. admitting that it hurts is a fresh wound of its own, and he's already got plenty of those to deal with right now. and there's still more that Ronan doesn't know, more secrets that he deserves to know, and there's nothing standing in the way anymore. he figures dad ripping the fucking bandaid off is the closest to permission he's ever gonna get on this front.

except that Ronan's head is fucking spinning. as much as he wants to know everything, and he DOES, he just....he needs time to process. he's learned enough for one night. so he and Declan sit slumped on the dirt floor of the makeshift boxing ring, side by side, in weighty wrung-out silence, until they hear mom and Matthew get home from wherever they've been.

.....

AAAAAAAND that's all i've got so far, i am deeply invested in this narrative as it plays out like a movie on the back of my eyeballs, i am thinking about it all the time. idk where it will go next. there's gotta be some kind of action plot ramping up with Greenmantle upping the ante, pushing to collect on the fancy artifact that Niall claimed to have but actually doesn't because it's his fucking kid.

idk what the endgame would be here 😂 if i did, it could actually be a fic, but instead i'm just examining the immediate emotional fallout of events with a microscope cuz it pleases me aldkfjgh and that does not lend itself to one cohesive story that actually wraps up in a narratively satisfying way.

so anyway. hope you've enjoyed this EXTENSIVE ramble and glimpse into my internal monologue cuz this is what the inside of my brain sounds like most of the time.

(ps i asked my peeps if a complete and utter inability to summarize is a specific flavor of neurodivergent or just a general all-purpose ND mood, and their response was, and i quote, "it's the tism babe" lmaooo, so i guess we have my newly peer-reviewed autism to thank for this 4k monstrosity of an answer 😅)

[backseat-negan]

Well, damn… it’s been four years since I posted. I had almost forgotten my love of Jeffrey Dean Morgan/TWD and the amazing community of writers and friends I found here.

Because when addiction takes over, it becomes the only thing your mind will make space for.

Trigger warnings: addiction, drugs, IV drug use, drug abuse, cocaine, overdose, syringes, needles, tracks, track marks

4 years ago - right after my last post - I was diagnosed with a neuromuscular disease called Myasthenia Gravis, or MG. Similar in ways to Multiple Sclerosis and Muscular Dystrophy, MG damages the receptors that allow your muscles to get signals from your nerves. Over time it causes severe muscle weakness and fatigue, and sometimes loss of muscle function entirely.

For me, that meant losing much of the fine motor function in my hands and arms, as well as chronic double vision from the muscles around my eyes being affected. Consequently, I lost my career working as a surgical assistant and I lost my ability to play guitar, which I had been doing for almost 15 years.

MG progresses differently for every person, and mine went from “Start” to “I’m going to take everything you love” in less than five months. For most people, this progression takes years - but mine unexpectedly progressed quite quickly, and that became the catalyst for a very, very dark downward spiral that I still haven’t been able to wrench myself out of almost four years later.

I had dabbled in illicit drugs here and there in the months leading up to my diagnosis, but the day I discovered I could no longer play guitar, I made the worst decision of my life: I picked up a needle for the first time, assuming it would also be my last. I just wanted to escape the sadness for a bit, and I was curious about the effects. But as soon as I pushed that first dose, I knew I was fucked. I immediately wanted more.

It went from 1 or 2 doses a day to 5 or 10, to 20 or 30, until at its peak I was dosing over 100 times a day. Yes, the math is correct - I was injecting every 10-15 minutes, all day, not sleeping for days at a time, not eating for weeks at a time, and not showering for months at a time - simply because I couldn’t stand the sight of the track marks covering my entire body.

In a year and a half, I went from 290 pounds to 170 pounds, simply from not eating. On the rare occasion I would leave the house and see my friends, they would immediately ask, “Dude, when’s the last time you ate anything?” Most of the time it had been so long, I couldn’t give them an honest answer. My mind and body had ceased to even register the sensation of hunger - the only thing it wanted was more C.

I had a few stints in rehab and might string together a few weeks of sobriety, but I always went back to it. I managed to avoid overdose until this year… February 4th, 2024. It put me into repeated seizures and respiratory arrest, they were able to revive me and I was in an induced coma for 4 days.

I wish I could say it was a wake up call, but I went back to it within hours of being discharged from the hospital. I despise withdrawals, and they just keep getting worse the longer I’m on the shit. Then just over a month later - March 20th - I OD’d again. Once again threw me into seizures and I almost stopped breathing, but thankfully this time the paramedics arrived significantly faster and I didn’t die - again.

I can’t remember the last time I showered, because just the thought of having to look down and see all the scabbed, bruised, and heavily scarred track marks on my arms and hands is sickening. I’ve been wearing long sleeves for almost two years straight - even on 90° summer days - and I put makeup/concealer on the back of my hands every day where the scars are the darkest so I don’t get disapproving looks from family, cashiers, and waitresses. I’ve gotten better at eating, and have managed to get back up to 205 pounds. But that’s the only thing that’s gotten better.

No one wakes up and decides to become an addict. It begins with one small seemingly meaningless choice to escape what’s in our head for just a few minutes or hours, but very quickly becomes an all-consuming downward spiral into our own grave. I wish I could go back and show 29 year old me what I’ve become, and take the needle out of her hand. But I can’t take any of this back, and right now, I still haven’t found a way out.

Sorry for the long post, just needed to vent a bit.

[lovemesomesurveys]

Any recent purchases? I gave my mom some money to grab a few things I wanted from the store recently. 

Have you ever thought about giving up on life completely? Yes.

Have you seen the entire Harry Potter series? I have.

Do you still have both of your parents? Yes, and I’m so very grateful for that. 

Do you live very far away from Kansas? I mean, yeah. I’m in California, which is very far west and Kansas is in the middle. 

Do you enjoy cuddling? I honestly don’t have much cuddling experience. 

Do you play video games? Yeah, sometimes. It’s been awhile, though. 

How many colors are in your hair right now? My hair is entirely my natural hair color right now. I actually hate it, I miss my red hair so much. 

Do you have your full license yet? I don’t have my license. 

Do you have the same color eyes as your mother? I do.

Does your significant other boss you around a lot? I’m single. 

Do you prefer winter or summer? Winter all the way. I dread summer. 

Do you know anyone who has overdosed? Yes.

Are you a fan of PDA (public displays of affection)? I don’t mind a little PDA, but not too much.

Have you ever been put to sleep for surgery? Yeah, several times. 

Where are your siblings as of now? My younger brother is at his boyfriend’s house and I’m assuming my older brother is at home.

What color shirt are you wearing as of now? It’s light blue.

What is your favorite class? I’m not in school anymore, but I always loved English. I also liked most of my psych courses. 

Are you in love with someone right now? No.

Can you speak any other languages than the one you’re fluent in? I’m only fluent in English, but I can speak a little Spanish.

Do you take a lot of photos? No. Definitely not of myself. I take screen shots or save photos to my phone more than I take any. 

When you were little, did you think band-aids healed everything? I suppose so.

Have you ever had a pregnancy scare? Nope. 

Where do you download music from? I haven’t downloaded music since like 2012. I just use Spotify to listen to music. 

Have you ever cheated on someone before? No.

Have you ever attempted suicide? No.

Do you know what ‘irony’ means? I do. 

How many pillows do you normally sleep with? A few. 

Do you lose your remote often? No, it’s always next to me.

Have you ever skipped class before? Yeah, I did sometimes in college. I didn’t make a habit of it or anything and I always did my work and got whatever I missed. 

Are you a regular school skipper? No, like I said I didn’t make a habit of it. I never understood how some people would only come on exam days.

Do you have any Pay-per-View channels? Is that even a thing anymore?

Who, in your life, makes you feel discouraged? Just myself. 

When was the last time you went bowling? Almost 15 years ago. 

Do you ever suspect your significant other of lying to you? --

Are you expected to help fix Thanksgiving dinner? No, but I like doing the appetizers. 

Is there anything bothering you right now? There’s a few things bothering me. There always is.

Would you like to talk to someone about it? I briefly did earlier about some of it with my mom. 

Do you live by any major bodies of water? Yes, the Pacific ocean. 

Do you tend to make the first move in a relationship? No.

Do you spend a lot of time with family? I do. 

How many times have you been to Disney World, if any? Never, sadly. I’d love to go. I’ve been to Disneyland several times, though, which I love. 

Have you ever lost anyone close to cancer? No.

Have you ever been accused of being on drugs when you weren’t? No.

Do you have a more quiet or loud voice? I’d say I have a quiet voice. People often need me to repeat myself and speak a little louder. 

Do you personally know anyone who is transgender? Not that I know of.

When was the last time you got a shot? Uhhh. I don’t even remember, it’s been a long time.

Can you play any instruments? If so, what are those instruments? No. I wish I could. 

Do you have any diseases? No, but I have other health issues. Some of them are chronic. 

Have you ever been into a car accident? No, fortunately. 

[negativity-spiral]

Things are going poorly. I never thought in all my life that I would be completely consumed by hopelessness.

I’ve been dancing with hopelessness for years, my entire teenage life into adulthood I have been trying not to sink into despair. For a long time it wasn’t all of that hard if I found the right through-line of thought to assuage the depths of suicidal ideation. “Live for the sake of experience.” “Live for the wholesomeness you see poking through the cracks of soul-sucking void.” “Hope is an inherent part of the human condition, and when it is lost it can be found in the smallest acts of the soul.”

But no. Not anymore. I hadn’t had to deal with the true weight of death yet. I had been living in blissful ignorance of the reality of what death does to people.

One of my family members decided they didn’t want to live anymore. They were 16. Not even a legal adult yet. I attended his funeral recently. They called it a “celebration of life”. I always found it novel and weirdly wholesome as an idea. But when facing the weight of the reality of it, if it wasn’t couched in those terms I think that his mother would have been even more inconsolable than she already was. To learn of how much it truly has been destroying her. Quite literally. She was already on the way out, constant chronic in and out of the hospital, and she was just waiting out her last few years, but she stopped eating. She looked like a prisoner of war, and in a sense she is one. I hugged her, and it felt like hugging a warm corpse, a being devoid of the barest notion of that light of hope. She shuddered. Cried. I couldn’t bring myself to.

I left a message for my cousin. Don’t remember the exact wording, and honestly to say it on a tumblr post would take something of its spiritual significance away. The important part is how futile the message seemed. He wasn’t a believer in an afterlife and neither am I. I shuddered and my eyes watered. The pen seemed to weigh nothing and yet my hand strained to keep it upright. My handwriting shook to be just barely comprehensible. I did not cry.

My grandfather, her father. He was there when they found the body. I saw the lack of himself. The emptiness in his eyes. There was nothing poetic or artistic or melancholic about it. It was an emptiness. He couldn’t form sentences properly. When his eyes met yours they gazed through you as if you weren’t there. I had to prompt a conversation and I don’t think he was even really there for it.

My father, who already was falling down a hateful spiteful rabbit hole of political ideology, is now even more of a mess. The worst parts of himself, parts he’s been working on for over 2 decades, are back in full force. The pettiness. The meanness. The judgmental all encompassing attitude of his own misinformed anger, directed at everything but the actual problems he needs to fix. The rage. I have been seeing progress in these areas over the last few years, small, excruciatingly small steps. All undone. He will be a husk by next year.

Hopelessness has been consuming me. Inky black, an oil slick sludge that bubbles over every inch of my insides. If you cut me open you might just find that that’s all there is inside me now, bones and skin and despair.

I’m not happy in my relationships anymore. I’m not happy with my housing situation. I’m not happy with my job. I have almost no friends. I’m not happy with my relationship to my family members. I already wasn’t able to be honest with them fully. I feel the pit growing deeper. I feel myself growing more meager by the day. I have no money. I have no motivation. I am becoming more and more a husk. A lifeless reanimated corpse incapable of any real substance, any real purpose.

This will keep happening. That’s the thought that initially sent me down this… spiral. This hole. People will keep dying around me. People I love. People I care about. People I don’t even know. And their deaths will make everything a little darker. And a little darker. Until no light can break the canopy and finally all of the things that used to bring me joy will feel meaningless and hollow. This is going to keep happening.

I spent so many years staving off hopelessness. So many years pushing the thought of death to a compartment of its own. But now it’s seeping into my every waking thought. It creeps in. There’s nothing left.

I’m tired.

[yourl0cal1ncorporealb3ing]

TW VENT AT SOME PARTS

(ALSO NONE OF THIS PROOF READ SO IT MAY NOT BE LEGIABLE I just wroet this and i already forgot half the stuff i wrote)

y'know the mix of horrid chronic fatigue and insatiable numbness and the dissociation just makes me feel like I missing out on life, I yearn to go outside, to go play, to have fun, just run around but I cant. I sit in my room on tumblr or youtube wasting the day away wishing I did something more productive. I feel like a husk of person I feel like Im in a movie theater alone watching the most boring movie ive ever seen, I feel lonely while also being too socially drained to watch and respond the the video my friend sent me. Not to mention when my parents used to fight, my moms road rage/anger issues, it caused me to fucking terrifed of conflict so sometimes I minimize my needs when around other people and constantly asking about things and if im doing it right but also worrying if im annoying them with all my questions because my grandma has gotton mad at me for that before i think either that or it was me asking why she loved my cousin more than me because she yelled and fought with my dad because i wouldnt give my cousin my fukcing chicken nuggets my dad bought for me like fuck you i mean im sorry grandma

The anxiety and hyperactivity of my ADHD spikes up at night so either i got to sleep and wake up in 13 hours or I can stay up till 4am, go to sleep and wake 13 hours (Just feeling a lot worse). Im literally shaking as I write this and i can tell if im just so fucking restless even if im fucking tired (its 3:38am) or anxiety or the entire kiwi strawberry monster I just drank Its ok im drinking water a lot of it i just need to get my thoughts out of my head because its like a thousond of the dvd bouncing tv screen in my head rn idk if its getting better idk if im gonna post this too maybe idk any ways im shaking oh btw i might have non-diabetic hypoglycemia and i have to get a bunch shots next week and I really hate the doctors it always makes me really scared and uncomfy n shit and idk why damn im shaking a lot. I almost freaked out bc i cant find my charger and my tablet almost died but i have another one ive been using so i just used that but i want to know where my charger went :(

istg ive been eating fucking pasta for the lat 3 weeks and i hate it i hate it i hate it HATE it every. fucking. meal. I cant. I have comfort foods I like and its mostly carby food like pasta so i eat pasta alot but since our oven stopped workin its all i know i can make that easy and i laike it but i secretly dread it so i have been eating a lot of candy to keep my brain happy but im not i should be happy ive been hanging with my frinds and its summr break but im just numb, i always am, yk the year I just finished? yeah for the majority of the i was fighting autopilot mode and disassociation but i was constantly in it i dont think i cant handle going to high school this year i think i might act pass out from exhaustion I barely survived middle school Im not okay i need something meds? idk I should not be this messed up i mean my family is great (yk...apart from the fighting which isnt that common anymore and moms anger issues) but theu love me so whats the problem? school school why is it so unoccomidating to neurodivergents same with ppl with social anxiety like i have had MULTIPLE bad panic attcks in class cause i had to do smthin in front of the class I fukcing hate the school system fuckfukcufkyoiuu school fuck the emercian school system FUCKYOUUUUUUUUU

Im too conflict avoident I cant

the afternoon feels so tiring in a stuffy way if that maks and sense i need to treat my FUCKING adhd already i can have music playing at all times thats not a good long term strategy to shut up my brain i mean ffuck i have music on rn and you can see my insane ramblings

anyyways I kinda think im a daave fiction kin (like DSAF) but im 90% sure im just and otherlinker and I just want to feel speacial or some shit but whos know i have the worst imposter syndrome known to man (I have almost every symptom of Cfs and my friend has asked if i have it but nahhh i defs dont) but also i had a weird experience once. I was like listen (its getting hard to type with the shakiness :0) ing to 2 dave and henry playlists and i kept listening to the henry one and I was in the car and i was falling and out of sleep when i saw like flash of dave but it didnt look like cannon dave he looked different he was mush more blue and he was leaning against a wall with messy longish hair and he had a hat and scars all over him and he had a purple buttoned shit that was fulled buttoned up and the perspective i saw was like a photo someone had taken and he seemed just chilling perhaps talking to jack? idfk but yeah theres my weird experience like the best way i can explain this feeling towards dave is "Idkk if i was you but probably mightve at some point like most likely at some point"

i hope i sound legiable (if i do post this AND someone actually reads this all) it is 4:08am and I feel too many things once i probably will sleep at 5 or 6 anyways byebye

[vizthedatum]

Food aversions and radical changes in preferences, as I’m currently living it

Written around 7:33 on a plane today.

—

Regardless of what’s happening, I will aim to describe my health as holistically (in a narrative way) as I can.

For the past 2 years or so, I’ve been consciously unmasking my autism and adhd as much as possible.

I am burnt out, and I’m tired of lying to myself while performing… life.

But that’s only a part of the puzzle for me.

—

Today I’m going on a solo trip for my mental health and self fulfillment. I’m also figuring out what’s going on with my body.

—

Usually on planes, I ask for “ginger ale, no ice.” Apart from Dr. Pepper - ginger ale is one of my other comfort pop drinks. And it’s my go to drink for flying .

And besides I’ve just been perpetually nauseated and while there is no proof really that ginger ale helps that much because of its sugar content, it helps mentally.

Today, ginger ale tasted like vomit. What the actual fuck??? I tried some from another can - disgusting. (Should I collect more data? Was it just these particular cans???)

—

Earlier today, when visiting with my brother, I asked him to order things I knew I would like - I ate out of a need to nourish my body in some way (including mental nourishment).

It was easier to eat with another person - harder to eat alone it seems.

It’s been so hard to eat since the beginning of this month. And the fatigue that happens is so cyclical with it (if I don’t eat, I’m fatigued; if I do eat, I’m fatigued - really high amounts)

I just started a course of antibiotics last night (X-safe antibiotics) - and like okay? I’ve been on and off antibiotics for MOST OF MY LIFE - I know what the nausea from that feels like - this is not that. This isn’t an allergy either.

Besides I have been feeling nauseated for weeks.

I’m so sad about this because I love food. I love eating.

It’s also weird because (only using this as a comparative example) when I was with my ex-spouse, I was nauseated in a very different way (I chronically threw up nearly daily for an extended period of time due to a mix of chronic pain and overdoing recreational and medical cannabis - it was a huge problem - I was perpetually stressed and manipulated and blah blah (see my other posts).)

THIS DOES NOT FEEL LIKE THAT.

—

I can smell things so much more acutely. Almost like a cursed superpower. I’m so glad I’m masking (physical face mask!) because it limits how much I smell.

—

All the while my breasts (so conflicted about them from a trans/dysphoric perspective) and lower abdomen ache and pound. (Also in a different way than the usual period/PCOS/IC/endo way… similar, very similar, but so different)

I’m also sad because I need to re-do AND intentionally figure out my entire nutrition plan. Sigh.

THERE ARE SO MANY THINGS I MUST DO. And I’m trying my best to ask for help but I do *feel* like a burden even though I know I’m not. If it were my friend, I would help - so I know that this is ok.

I haven’t looked this up but is there any guidebook for newly unmasked autistics who may or may not be dealing with an unplanned X (lol sorry I know it’s obvious - I won’t get direct confirmation until later) who already have multiple pelvic and reproductive chronic health issues?!?!

*laughcry* even with all my knowledge, even with me working at an institute specifically for reproductive health, even with everything… it’s like a fucking mystery.

—

And I wish my mom was actually the type of person who could help me out, because… I fucking need a familial mentor who has gone through this to help me EMOTIONALLY. But she barely has any empathy even though I love her. And we aren’t talking. I did see her, in all her beauty, today when she dropped my brother off… we didn’t speak according to my boundaries.

—

AND OMFG THE PERSON NEXT TO ME JUST GOT COFFEE AND I CANNOT HANDLE THE SMELL

coffee

It smells so bad

I used to love the smell of coffee

—

*tries not to meltdown and visibly be a frazzled queer coded autistic on a full flight*

*goes to bathroom and breathes*