#but like ive had them almost 3 years and barely worn them because i am just over sneakers

[dufrau]

maybe im just high right now but im thinking...

next summer...

only like for really hot days okay you know not EVERY day...

maybe i should get a pair of moccasins...

for when it is too hot to wear boots?

[romiithebirdie]

Epilogue for the Lost - Chapter 3

"Never fear, for I am here!"

 That was the cheerful catchphrase of the children's television icon, All Might. When anything bad happened, All Might would arrive and save the day. He always won with a bright beam worn proudly across his face, radiating pure joy not only in the show but for children all over the nation who tuned in to watch him.

 But for Toshinori Yagi it was a part of his past that he'd rather move on from. Living in solitude as a wealthy retired actor with only a few friends and family members made it difficult for him to genuinely smile nowadays.

 Something he could still not grasp to this day;

 He had everything.

 Money, fame, properties and adoring fans all around the world.

 Yet, his heart felt so hollow. Like somebody had reached in and torn in from his chest, discarding it like the useless piece of flesh it was.

If you asked him, he'd be surprised if he even still had a heart under his paper-thin skin.

During the last few years of his starring role as the smiling superhero, he had been involved in a major car collision that damaged his internal organs beyond repair. After months of surgeries and other frequent visits to the hospital, he had retired due to his declining health.

 His adoptive father-figure Sorahiko Torino always made it a habit to visit frequently, though Toshinori himself preferred to stay in isolation. Far, far away from the prying eyes of his stern and no-nonsense father and his constant lectures about bad habits and whatnot.

 Though he knew it was deeply childish, Toshinori still felt a rebellious thrill from aggravating Sorahiko just as he had done in his youth.

 While Torino had always been known for his grumpy attitude, he took up to eleven after the incident involving his closest friend, Nana Shimura. Like Sorahiko, she had worked as a high-ranking member of the Police Force and had taken a squad to raid the hideout of a dangerous wanted criminal.

 The notorious A.F.O killer.

 He had been given that name due to the fact that all of his victims had the three initials carved into parts of their bodies.

 However, it hadn't gone as planned and the entire building went up in flames. The majority of the squad had escaped with minor injuries, but Nana inhaled far too much smoke during her attempts at fleeing to safety which caused her to fall unconscious. Several hours later, she had passed away in the ER department.

 It was a massive shock to everybody. Nobody could have seen it coming.

 The criminal's body was never found or recovered, the authorities eventually pegging it down to have burned into nothing during the inferno due to the fact nobody had come forward with grievous burns in any of the hospitals in Japan.

 A fitting way to end the life of such a cruel and evil man. Scorched into a smudge on the ground, leaving nothing but joy to the civilians who had feared for their lives during his spree.

 While many would call it a horrifying end, Toshinori called it justice.

 Losing Nana was truly a tragedy and both Toshinori and Sorahiko suffered badly with mourning the kind woman's death. While Sorahiko took to his study and spent many days and nights alone, Toshinori's behaviour grew more challenging and he had started fighting at school and in public.

 He wasn't a bad kid.

 He just hadn't known how to deal with his own grief. It made him feel hollow inside, like his heart was devoid of anything.

 Nana Shimura was like a secondary parental figure to Toshinori. She would watch movies with him, take him and Torino out for long drives in the city and countryside while always proudly wearing a smile on her face.

 The television hero All Might's constant beam was a complete homage to Shimura in every way.

 If only she had been around to see him in his hayday…

 Would she still be proud of him now?

 Knowing how far he'd fallen.

 Turning to drinking and not taking care of his health properly… Every time he'd cough up the coppery taste of blood from the back of his throat, he truly felt as if the Grim Reaper himself was slowly approaching, waiting for his final breath before tearing his soul and taking his spirit to the afterlife.

 No. What he'd thought about Nana...

 That wasn't true.

 Nana would have never judged him. Back then and even now.

 She was kind-hearted and had so much empathy, especially for somebody who worked in the field that she did. It was something Toshinori truly admired about the woman, other than her fierce passion for her work.

 Glancing at the IV cord that was attached to his arm, he let out a deep sigh before heaving himself from his own hospital bed and beginning to hobble out of his private room. A coffee from the café downstairs sounded pretty good right about now…

 Whisky would have been better but beggars couldn't be choosers.

                                                              .-.-.-.-.

Izuku rushed through the hospital entrance, clutching the leather straps of his backpack as his crimson shoes squeaked along the polished floor. He'd been given the brief details of what had happened at his apartment by the police officers after his mother had been taken away in an ambulance.

 The kind officers had then given the teen a ride to the hospital where they had accompanied Izuku with getting the name of the ward where his mother had been taken. After giving a quick bow of thanks, Izuku had shot across the car park and towards the building at lightning fast speed.

 From the looks of the ward names, it seemed his mother was on one of the higher floors so Izuku decided to take the elevator up; only to almost crash into a tall, blond haired man holding a steaming paper cup who was also waiting for the elevator doors to open.

 "I'm so sorry!" the boy yelped, ducking his head while the blond chuckled, fondly shaking his head at the teen. Izuku noted the IV drip and was stricken with more guilt, so much so that he ignored an unpleasant feeling wash over him while being in close range of the stranger.

 You nearly knocked a patient over, you complete idiot.

 Ding!

 As sweet as mercy, the elevator doors opened and the two entered with Izuku allowing the older man to go in first out of respect. It was the least he could do after almost barrelling into him.

 "Why thank you, young man," Toshinori smiled, taking a sip of his coffee while watching Izuku fidget around the elevator buttons. He chose to step in, "I'm going to the fifth floor, my boy."

 "Ah, that's great, I'm going up to the ninth."

Izuku pressed the buttons and stepped back, feeling the weight of the floor lift underneath his feet. For a few awkward seconds, nobody said a word until a familiar, unwanted chill blew into the boy's face.

 He knew it all too well.

 They wanted to communicate with him again.

 The tiny space of the elevator only did more to trigger an overwhelming feeling of utter claustrophobia, it felt like the silver reflective walls were closing in on him. Izuku suddenly wanted nothing more than to shrink into himself and cower away with his face covered.

 Please go away.

 Izuku's desperate emeralds met with Toshinori's dull blue, the two immediately connected as the teen bit back a choked gasp that he tried to fight. Foggy imagery immediately began taking over his senses as the familiar raven-haired lady held onto the blond's shoulders like she was embracing him.

 No, no, no.

 Izuku was seeing them once again, just like all the other times.

 Usually he'd see them in short-timed wisps like the smoke of a dead candle flame. A few whispers in his ears and cold spots but nothing as humanoid as what he was seeing now.

He immediately reached for his bag and fumbled around for the zipper, shakily trying to fight against the fabric trapping his zip in the same position. Upon ripping it open, not caring whether or not he'd broken the lining, he began frantically raking through the contents inside.

 Where was that damned medication?!

 Various whispers combined into one ghostly chorus entered his ears, making them ring like a loud case of tinnitus as he stepped back, trying to compose himself.

 "Tell him. Please. Tell him."

 "Please," Izuku pleaded as he squirmed, hand darting out and snatching the blond stranger's striped pyjama sleeve. They wouldn't leave until he did what they asked, "She says she's proud. N-never think otherwise."

 Toshinori's mind screeched to a complete halt as he whirled around completely on the teen holding onto him, "What?" he spluttered, not quite sure he'd heard what had just come out of the kid's mouth properly. Surely he'd misheard?

"She's proud," Izuku squeezed his eyes shut, as if speaking the words pained him. "Nana says she'll always be proud of you."

 Toshinori turned his head around so fast, Izuku's own neck ached at the sight.

 Finally, he spoke; "How do you know Nana?"

 "I don't," Izuku wavered, glancing at the ghostly hands clutching the thin fabric covering Toshinori's shoulders. "But she said you knows you."

 Knows? The older male frowned, unsure of what that even meant.

 "Let me rephrase," Toshinori's grip on his IV tightened, a small wave of nausea threatening his weak body as he tried to steady himself. "How could you know something like that?"

 The words that had come out of the kid's mouth were enough for him to pray for the doors to open;

 "Because she's standing behind you and telling me what to say."

 As if by magic, the elevator doors opened and allowed the blond to shuffle out of the small space at the fasted speed he could. In silence, Toshinori dragged his IV along with him while keeping his gaze fixed on the boy.

 As the doors began to close, he finally chose to speak again suddenly finding his voice, though it was barely coherent;

 "What's your name, kid?"

 "Izuku," the greenette answered immediately, "Izuku Midoriya."

 "Toshinori Yagi," the blond responded, just as the twin doors shut and cut off their sight of one another.

 Toshinori set his cup down and covered his mouth, muffled exhales echoing down the empty corridor as he attempted to compose himself.

 Did that really just happen?

                                                             .-.-.-.-.

"Mum!"

 Previous issues with his unwelcome undead buddies immediately dropped the moment he saw her. The teen dropped everything and launched himself forward, sliding to a halt beside his eerily still mother. The heart monitor beeped slowly, duetting with Inko's raspy gasps for air from her oxygen mask.

 "Izuku?" Inko croaked, her face ghostly pale as she shakily attempted to lift her head from the pillows supporting her. Izuku immediately grabbed her hand tightly, fearful of letting her go.

 "What happened?" he stressed, trying to force down the hard lump in his throat. He couldn't cry in front of her. She needed him to be strong.

 "A man," she whispered, gently giving his hand a squeeze, "red eyes. He knew about Mitsuki, said I deserved it."

 "Deserved it?" Izuku repeated, dumbfounded. Deserved what? His mother had nothing to do with the Bakugou tragedy…

 "He knocked me down a-and did this," she used her free hand to shakily imitate stabbing motions. Her eyes welled up and Izuku fought back his own tears at seeing his mother so broken. "Tried to start a fire in the lounge b-but couldn't, the neighbours heard the commotion and he ran away."

 Inko heaved out roughly, each breath sounding painful as she shifted slightly, wincing every now and again while the monitor beeped beside her.

 "I'm sorry, Izuku," she whispered, mother and son's eyes meeting before she began closing them slowly. "I'm so sorry."

 "Mum?" Izuku released her hand and gave her a few gentle nudges. She moaned softly, streaks of tears lined down her cheeks as her chest slowly rose and fell.

 She was alive. Injured but alive.

 The teen pushed himself away and slowly made his way out of the ward, feeling like his head was filled with cotton wool. The second the doors to the ward shut behind him, he allowed himself to break down, sobbing quietly against one of the off-white walls of the long and empty hospital corridor.

 Who could have done this?

 His mother was the most gentle soul he had ever known, rarely raising her voice or getting angry. Why had somebody attacked her?

 The mystery person was wrong; his mother didn't deserve what had happened to her.

 Izuku thought back to what the police had explained to him, about the attacker. According to the report made, he had mentioned Mitsuki Bakugou. Which was not only confusing but odd too.

 Then there was that weird guy with the unusual red eyes back in his neighbourhood, he was wearing a hoodie so his hair was completely concealed. His mother had mentioned red eyes hadn't she?

 Izuku only knew one person with that rare eye colour and then there was another thought playing on his mind;

 Who truly knew Mitsuki Bakugou besides the Midoriya Family?

 Aside from…

 "Kacchan?"

[antpelts]

13 from general, kleinsen or conman/kleinphy that’s up to you. with Jared being autistic / adhd/ hypo- /hypersensitive / SPD something in that area?

prompts list

13.  “for starters, that’s impossible.”

okay ive never read/written kleinphy but.. after the novel connor grew on me so here we go folks. also.. yes,, i have many autistic/adhd headcanons for characters,,

“For starters,” Jared’s voice was slightly muffled as he kept his head down, fingers picking at the keys on his laptop’s keyboard, “that’s literally impossible.”

“You’re literally impossible,” Connor shot back, tone flat.

The Fourth of July sucked. Being home from college sucked. Summer classes sucked. Hence why he had cleared off Connor’s desk and set up his own laptop. The Murphys were content to give them space (glad that Connor had a ‘friend’ over) while Jared’s parents didn’t know the definition of privacy. 

“You’re a dick,” Jared mumbled, leaning his head down until his forehead rested on the desk. Another pop of a firework sounded and he grit his teeth. “I need to finish this.”

Raising a hand he blindly gestured towards his laptop. A word document was open and when Connor slid off his bed and moved close enough he could see the ‘Last edit was 1 hour ago’ at the top of the screen.

“Well I think that’s going to be literally impossible.”

Jared raised one hand, sticking his middle finger up. Another firework went off and he squeezed his hand back into a fist, drawing it in close to himself. Lifting his head he knocked his glasses off, letting them clatter onto the desk. Even that noise was too much - his skin felt hot, his breathing felt short. It was.. utterly embarrassing. He knew he should’ve just stayed home, but Connor had invited him and he was still trying to pretend that didn’t make his heart beat a little faster. The only person who saw him like this usually was Evan, and that wasn’t even by choice. It was more a product of their closeness, something that Evan had just learned how to handle over the course of plenty of years. 

With Connor this was new. And mortifying.

Their.. relationship was odd. They tiptoed around labels and kissed in the dark laying on Connor’s bed. Sometimes when they were up until 3 am they’d talk about the darker things, letting each other in just a little. Sometimes Jared would drive them to get McFlurrys at random and they’d hold hands across the center console. But this was almost too open, this wasn’t them choosing to open up in a nice, quiet space. This was Jared having an episode in front of his maybe boyfriend against his will, he felt utterly hopeless.

“Just fuck off,” it was muffled as Jared shoved his face into his hands, applying as much pressure as he could. 

The sound of Connor picking up his glasses and folding the arms in was even too much and he huffed out a ragged breath. This time when they were placed back on the desk it didn’t sound as abrasive and that was welcomed, at least. He was hyper aware as he heard his laptop shutting, though the noise was soft and deliberate.

After some rustling Jared felt some fabric being pressed against the back of his hands. Slowly lifting his head he saw a hoodie being held right in front of his face. Connor was leaning on his desk, one hand tucked in a pocket as he pointedly kept his gaze to the other side of the room. There was a moment of deliberation before Jared grabbed onto the hoodie and struggled to pull it over his head. He was thankful for the fact that Connor blasted his fan, even with the air conditioning, otherwise he probably would’ve felt like he as suffocating. The hoodie swamped him, of course it did, he wasn’t even that small.

“Better?”

Jared tugged the hood over his head, pulling on the hoodie strings. It didn’t muffle the sounds much but it gave him a sense of security. Without a second thought he pulled one of the strings up to his mouth, biting down on it hard. It was probably something he’d be thoroughly embarrassed about later (Connor gave up his hoodie and he immediately fucked up the strings) but the pressure of biting down was too grounding for him to stop.

Another pop had Jared going rigid again, clenching his fists.

“Talk to me, asshole,” Connor’s voice was low and steady and he knocked his foot against the chair Jared was in.

“Fuck off,” it was strained, spoken with a clenched jaw. If he weren’t currently breaking down he might’ve mad a quip about the sight in front of him that he’d caught a glimpse of: Connor’s hair pulled back into a messy bun because the back of his neck was sweaty, arms bare of his hoodie but covered in assorted bracelets in various states of being worn down, something unfamiliar and soft settled on his face. Or.. maybe instead of joking about it he’d be caught up in the intimacy of the fact the Connor was willing to exist like this in front of him.

“Talk to me,” there was something steady and stern there which, oddly, was grounding enough that Jared managed to stiffly stick out his arms. Connor seemed to get the message, leaning down to wrap his arms around Jared’s middle, loose and hesitant.

“Pressure,” Jared mumbled, still biting down hard on the hoodie string. He moved his arms up around Connor’s shoulders, squeezing tight. After a second he felt the arms around his middle tighten, almost uncomfortably so. Pressing his face harshly against Connor’s shoulder he squeezed his eyes shut tightly, finally feeling his heart rate slow down.

Maybe they’d talk about it later. Maybe they wouldn’t. Maybe they’d just kiss some.

Jared was fine with that.

[macbookpro-hard-drive]

control [jeremy h. x squipped!reader] pt.3

did you know that tumblr no longer has those lil.. lines that i liked to separate my notes from my fic with? i didnt. until now. unbelievable.

SO NOW I HAVE TO SUPPLY MY OWN and hopefully this is fine

anyway. ive been... dead for a while. summer destroyed all motivation to do Anything, but ive been forcing myself to write on and off and this part feels... shorter than it should be, but

anyway! i am alive! i have plans! i have things to write! some of them are never going to be on this blog bc theyre original works, but im always open to talk abt them skdfhdsfh

warnings: uhhhhhhh vague manipulation, and i think thats it? just general. squip. yea.

         The last time you had seen Michael Mell as a friend had been the beginning of sophomore year. He and Jeremy sat on either side of you in his basement, clutching controllers and halfheartedly playing video games. Soda went untouched and unopened, snacks left alone, and too many times had Jeremy lost on games he knew like the back of his hand. The air had been stiff and uncomfortable, and the feeling had seeped into your nerves and bones to make your stomach turn at the thought of staying longer. Jeremy wasn’t quite there, and Michael was trying too hard to be extra present to make up for it. He became doting on the two of you - quick to refill a snack bowl that had barely been touched with Jeremy following him out of the basement. That was when you found your phone and called your parents, asking if they could come pick you up - bullshitting some excuse about how you felt sick. When Michael came down, he saw you packing up your things with a half-assed apology and a shitty acting job before you tore up the stairs and nearly rammed into Jeremy in the process. Your chest had tightened as you pushed past him with a quick apology and went to wait on the front steps outside for your mom to come get you.

          That had been the beginning of the end. After that day, Jeremy had slowly stopped talking to you almost completely. Michael had tried to patch things up, to keep things going, and then he just stopped abruptly. To make things worse, you had broken down at school a few weeks after everything went silent, because you’d been alone. You wiped at your face roughly with the sleeve of your hoodie, and left the bathroom. Barely seconds after you had turned the corner to head to class, you ran straight into him - headphones on and head down - only for his gaze to find yours the moment you stumbled back. He opened his mouth to speak, and you stumbled through a rough, shitty apology before you pushed past him and onward to your class. And then you avoided him purposefully, not wanting to address that little moment of weakness you had.

          And now you were sitting in front of him, eyes red and tears streaming down your cheeks as you struggled to find your voice. Your back pressed into cold metal, the lockers clanging behind you as you pulled away and tried to say something, anything to explain yourself. But Michael just stared at you, uncertain about what to say to you. Your legs were like stone, almost as if something was keeping you from darting away, from finding a safer place to land and cry and get over the tears forced from your body.

          “[y/n]?” Michael finally said, still staring at you. The lights overhead gleamed off his glasses and headphones as he pulled them down and around his neck, music loud enough for you to hear. He gave you a quick once-over, his attention now fully on you. “You okay?”

          You went to nod only for another sob to overtake you instead. “I don’t know why I’m crying,” you admitted after a moment, voice shaking and broken. And it was sort-of true.

          “Are you sure?” He said, “hey, I, uh, I know I sorta stopped talking to you and that was kinda shitty but... I’m still here if you need someone to talk to, alright?” After a moment, he tacked on another thought, “do you need a ride home?”

         Immediately, you didn’t want to say yes. It didn’t feel right to. But you’re already nodding before you can debate anything further. “Yeah,” you said slowly at first, reaching up and wiping at your eyes. Realization hit you quick. Your bag. “Shit.”

         “What’s wrong?”

         “I, uh, kinda left my bag in the auditorium.” You hesitated to step away - you didn’t really want to go back and make an excuse to leave, to let anyone see you with puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks. “Michael... can you-”

         “On it,” he gave you a small, two-finger salute, “I’ll be back in a sec!”

         As Michael took off down the hallway, you felt a pit develop in your stomach while he disappeared around the corner. Nothing felt right. You looked around for a moment, acutely aware of how silent everything had gone. When your SQUIP materialized in front of you, you avoided its gaze as you wrapped your arms tighter around yourself for a moment. The world felt a little colder, a little dimmer, and everything was off. The sound of Michael’s approaching footsteps minutes later played the steady beat for your incoming guilt-induced breakdown, and yet the boy smiled at you - as if nothing was wrong. Maybe that was because it looked like nothing was wrong. The strap of your bag was tossed over his shoulder, bouncing against his own backpack, and yet he looked at you like you were still friends.

        “Thanks,” you finally said as you reached for your bag.

        Michael stepped back, “I’ve got it,” he said with a smile, “don’t worry.”

       You let your arm fall back to your side, only to then shove your hands into your pockets. “Thanks,” you said, avoiding eye contact for a moment.

       The walk to Michael’s car was mostly quiet, with concerned glances thrown your way every now and then - that, when you caught then, were met with insecure smiles at the situation he’d been pulled into. Which.... frankly, threw you off a bit. Michael had always been the one who was better with all this feelings shit - you and Jeremy had the unhealthy habit of bottling everything up. And now Michael walked in step with you, still warm as ever - and still wearing that damn red hoodie you swore he showered in, but it still made you smile because of course Michael still took good care of it. When you hesitated for half a step upon seeing his P.T. Cruiser, he looked back at you before you shot him an uneasy smile and continued towards the passenger side. One of his moms must have given it to him - whether for his birthday or as a gift for passing his driver’s test, you weren’t sure. But the seats were still well-worn, a Pac-Man sticker stuck on the head-rest of the driver’s seat that Michael had stuck there when bored out of his mind. It was worn with age, like you’d expect it to be, but you suppressed a small smile at the fact it was still there.

      If the walk to Michael’s car had been quiet (with the occasional snippit of Michael saying something about how he still feels bad about what happened between the three of you, or about how he’s kinda sorry about the walk to the back of the parking lot) then the ride to your house was dead silent. Music flooded through the car speakers, Michael’s phone resting in your lap due to him pushing it in your direction and telling you to play whatever you want, and his attention was fully on the road - the sound of his phone’s GPS spitting out directions every so often to guide him. You watched out the window, a small sense of dread resting in your stomach the entire way, and for some reason... you felt sick.

      When the car started to roll to a stop, Michael reached up and turned the music down. “Hey, uh, you still have my number, right?”

      You blinked at him for a moment, before pulling out your phone. “I, uh, think so?” You opened your contacts, flipping through them, “I don’t think I deleted it or anything-”

      “Good,” he smiled at you, “if you ever wanna hang out, I’m, uh, pretty free since Jeremy’s busy with this whole.. play... thing.” He paused for a moment, only to follow it up quickly with “I mean if you aren’t doing anything, since - I dunno, you aren’t apart of the cast so-”

      “Okay,” you cut him off, “yeah, sure - I’m only painting the set for it, so... I’ll probably try to do that during lunch.”

      “I, uh,” he began, nodding towards your jacket, “I like your pin. Have you ever played the old shit?” When you shook your head, he was filled with excitement. “Dude. You have to come over then. I’ve got the classic Zelda stuff if you wanna play.”

      Running a hand through your hair, you just sort-of nodded in response as you opened the car door, swinging your bag over your shoulder. “Thanks for the ride, Michael.”

      You closed the car door, taking a few steps back as he pulled off and drove away, before you turned and head up to your house - pausing to notice your parent’s cars were missing. Right. Letting your bag fall down to your elbow, you began to fish through it to find your keys tucked away in the bottom of your bag, and you nearly sent the contents of your bag spilling when you went to pull it back to your shoulder. But with lightning reflexes that weren’t your own, you managed to snap into action and pull it shut before anything could spill - and when you looked up, your SQUIP was standing before you.

      Huh. “... Thank you?” You zipped your bag back up, letting yourself into your house.

      “You should stick to hanging out with Michael,” your SQUIP said, watching you head into your bedroom

      Dropping your backpack onto your bed, you shrugged at the idea as you began to search for your homework. “I mean, sure, he’s still a cool guy-”

      “Michael is close to Jeremy,” it said, as if the fact wasn’t obvious, “therefore, if you get closer to Michael, you’ll get closer to Jeremy.”

      You stopped. “Isn’t that using Michael?”

      “You were friends with him before. It’s rekindling your friendship that just so happens to mean you’ll rekindle something with Jeremy.” It said, “you aren’t manipulating him.”

      You shook your head, setting one binder down and searching for another. “I don’t really like this,” you said, “I don’t want do hurt Michael or anything-”

      “Why would you be hurting him by being friends with him?”

      Thinking it over, you finally nod a little. “... I guess you’re right,” you looked down at the textbook in your hands. “It just feels wrong-”

      “Don’t feel, [y/n],” it stepped beside you, turning your head to meet it’s steely gaze. “Just listen. I’m here to help you.”

      Reluctantly, you nod. “... Right.”

      So you did. The next day, Rich fell into step beside you - inviting you to stop acting like a loner and to sit with him and Jake and the rest of his friends. You debated taking him up on the offer for a moment, only to spot Michael sitting alone in a corner of the cafeteria. You declined immediately, not looking back as you crossed the room to join Michael. That became your routine - sliding into a seat near Michael, talking about video games and whatnot, and occasionally letting the topic slip to Jeremy as Michael had the habit of occasionally venting about the boy.

       “I mean,” he started one day, pointing a fork in your direction, “you remember how he is. He’s just... so in love with her,” he shook his head, “and, I mean, yeah, it’s Christine, but he could, y’know... not abandon me every day.”

      You nodded, “I’m sure he’s just blinded by his crush, Michael.”

      He nodded, stabbing into his burrito bowl, “I know...” He trailed off, looking away for a moment, “I just... he’s excited about this and - and that’s great! He’s actually sort-of talking to Christine!” He smiled back at you, “every time he talks about her, he gets that stupid look on his face. He practically has heart eyes, [y/n].” He paused for half a beat, “but... y’know, I can’t blame him. He keeps talking about how she’s been helping him with his lines, and that she’s so passionate about theatre...”

      You couldn’t help but smile a little at that. From your limited interactions with Christine, she seemed to be a complete sweetheart. No wonder Jeremy liked her.

      “In time, he’ll like you more.” It nudged it’s way in between your thoughts, “as long as you do what I tell you to. I’ve got a plan-”

      Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you busied yourself with your lunch. “Sure, buddy.”

      The stern silence that responded to your tone spoke volumes. But like a knife through butter, Michael’s voice washed away the slight tension you’d begun to feel: “hey, do you still draw?”

      You perked up at the question, turning your full attention back to Michael, answering with a far-too chipper “yes!” You immediately forced yourself to calm down, “yeah, I, uh, I still do. My art’s changed a lot, though,” you kind-of smiled, “I have a, uh, pretty decent following online now. I’m just glad I get to do what I love.”

      Snagging his phone from his pocket, Michael went silent for a moment as he opened up his tumblr app. “There’s this artist that Jeremy and I discovered - they seem really fucking cool, dude, and they seem like someone you’d like-”

      And then you were met with your own artwork, tagged with your online alias, and you had to resist the urge to immediately spill that he’d found you online after you remade your account. You could feel your SQUIP’s fingers gripping your shoulder, and you bit your tongue as you nodded, giving some half-hearted answer about how they seem cool, sure, before wondering why it had stopped you from saying anything.

      You didn’t address it until later. Halfway through your homework, you looked up and pushed yourself away from your desk. “Hey.” You spoke aloud. 

      Within seconds, your SQUIP proceeded to materialize in front of you. “You’re speaking aloud-”

      “I know,” you said with a hand wave, “my parents are still out. What was up with that earlier?”

      “You shouldn’t go around saying things-”

      “But it’s Michael,” you refuted, “I trust him. Besides - wouldn’t telling him that get me closer to Jeremy?”

      It’s cold gaze made you shrink under pressure. “I have a plan. [y/n]. If you want to get Jeremy, you have to obey.”

      “What about what I want?” You forced yourself to stand your ground, staring at the figure before you, “what if I want to do things differently?”

      “You bought me for a reason.” It crossed its arms, watching you, “this is what you want, though. That’s why I’m here: to help you get what you want. And what you want is Jeremy. I’m going to help you get Jeremy, but I can’t do that if you don’t trust me, [y/n].”

      Pressing your lips together, you mustered up a weak nod. Right. “Sorry,” you finally said, “I just - I’m scared it’s not going to work.”

       “It will.” 

        When Michael invited you over the next day, you were more than happy to take him up on the offer. He began to reason it as well, Jeremy’s at play practice, before he ended up dropping the facade and admitting he still kind-of missed you and that it’d been a while since he’d kicked your ass at video games (and, fuck, the glimmer in his eyes when he said that was enough to make you agree, and you realized in that moment just how much you actually missed Michael). So he drove you to his house, letting you take complete control of the music, and then he left you in the basement to find any games you’d be interested in while he grabbed some snacks from the kitchen.

       While the two of you played, you talked idly when the situation would allow it. About anything. About everything. About trips Michael had taken with his moms, about his and Jeremy’s brand new Halloween tradition of watching horror movies - usually the shittier ones - and gorging on candy, about how your parents always seemed so busy (and almost immediately Michael offered up his house for whenever you didn’t want to be alone, and you melted a little at the offer). The entire time, the room felt too quiet, even among the conversation and the music of each game. At first, you thought it was because Jeremy was missing. Things didn’t feel right without him. But it hit you, right as you were laughing at something Michael said.

       “Hey!” Michael brightened up at his idea, “you should join us.” When you looked over, slightly confused, he continued, “the, uh, Halloween thing? You should join our marathon.” 

       You faltered for a moment, looking down at your controller. Your voice isn’t your own as you speak, saying some sort of confirmation that felt too distant for it to be you. The guilt built within you, as you pushed yourself to hide the feeling while turning your attention back to the game, back to beating Michael this round. But the thought lingered.

       You were using Michael Mell.

[songofsaraneth]

HHHHHHHHhhh

anyway i live in the desert now. back from week two of remote cnayonlands work. and week 3 starts 7am monday. i haven’t worked under 45 hours/week in the last month and over 50 hours for a couple of them and im just. so tired.

haven’t been online much because i once again took on SO MANY projects and i’ve barely had time to even open my computer but! some Life Updates

did i mention i’m making a wedding cake for one of my good friends??? ive had to make a bunch of practice cakes and order things like cake boards and fancy stuff but i’m getting better at them!!! and the wedding is june second so REAL CLOSE, starting to get panicky about that

after a year of apprenticeship i am now a full member of the Moab Taiko Dan!! I really love taiko drumming, and this means I am now eligable to perform with them on the songs I have learned :) :) :) lessons now twice a week instead of once!

I did a biggo modeling shoot with a photographer a few weeks ago, have another small one tomorrow evening, another full day one in salt lake planned for june, then a big week in oregon followed by an underwater session in salt lake for July

my Raven Queen costume corset is almost all the way made!! I’ve never made a corset before and it defs feels like a sewing level up. and i have stuff to keep working on more of the costume too once I have time

speaking of Projects i need to start my new mermaid tail skin bc my current fabric one is just getting v worn out from literal years of use

also spending all of August in Ireland/scotland/wales so gotta GET READY for TRAVEL TIMES

also sew Another dress haha... oops...

my writing has taken a hit since i told myself at the start of the year i’d work on being consistent :( gotta get better at that. have a novella, a long short story, my big Hawke/Fallout from the Fade fanfic to finish (I PROMISE I HAVENT ABANDONED... IM SORRY... IM JUST A DISASTER), and a couple short ideas that have been rattling around my head that i doubt i’ll get to before the above things tho

very delayed on some photo editing i MUST finish tonight to send out but i’m happy with how i’m progressing in terms of retouching abilities too

today has been my first fully free day in, i want to say, 2 months? by wich i mean i am still meeting people at 5, the bf is coming to town and we’re going for a hike, and i need to get everything together for modeling tomorrow/fieldwork next week but. i did laundry and cleaned my room/hung up ALL my clothes (except th eones in the clean clothes hamper oops) so. go me, give me awards and praise please.

[thatsouthernanthem]

[ac odyssey fic] don’t you waste me in the ground rated: m characters: melina (oc), methodios (oc), random other ocs

so these start out kinda cute and then around story 3 get darker...and then story 5 is the darkest. So uhm. Read at your own risk...I just had to get it out and then post it to share the feelings with y’all :P 

part iii-v deals with slavery in ancient greece.

some content warnings for part v: implied rape (i will never actually write it), physical abuse, sexual abuse, emotional abuse and the depression that comes with it. 

i.

Iola knows her baby’s name immediately.

Tradition dictates they wait ten days to name their daughter, and so Iola keeps the name to herself for now, and instead concentrates on making sure her tiny newborn daughter survives those first ten days. Midwives bustle around her as she carefully wraps her child in blankets and cradles her to her chest. A lot can go wrong in the first week, they gently remind her.

But she barely listens because she is lost in the ocean blue of her daughter’s eyes, in the wisps of pale hair on her head, the tiniest freckles on the tiniest nose and the curl of her small fingers around her own. Melina will be her name, for she has the disposition of honey.

Her husband cries when he sees their daughter for the first time, marveling at how his hand is bigger than half her body. She is so small, he wonders if she is alright. “Well,” Iola smiles gently, looking down at her daughter noisily feeding at her breast. “I am small too, Sebastos. I think she’ll be fine.”

ii.

Melina has the bestest best friend in the entire world. She is the blacksmith’s daughter, and she is her partner in crime. At least that’s what Auntie says when they run past her in the village. Lalaia is small, and everyone there knows everyone but that’s also a good thing because Melina is never far from a friend.

Methiadusa grabs her hand and tugs her through the worn dirt streets of their home, toward the Kephisos Springs, both of the giggling along the way. Melina is five now and she is absolutely old and brave enough to go climb the rocks on her own, no matter what mater says.

They stick to the rocks closest to the shore, laughing and yelling across the stones over the roar of the waterfalls. There are the prettiest, tiniest fishes in the water below them and Melina cannot wait to return here with pater and go swimming together. She wants to be a fish when she grows up, even if her mother laughs when she says it. Mater just doesn’t get it.

She leans forward, reaching out to brace herself along the rocks as she wiggles her way up a particularly large one. Methiadusa is whining at the bottom, telling her to get down and that it’s time for a snack. She always gets whiny when she needs a snack and it’s probably because Methiadusa is a full three months younger than Melina and so--

With a screech, Melina slips and falls, catching her hands and leg on a jagged rock. The sharp stone rips through her skin like it’s papyros and Melina feels more sick than she does pain. Biting her lip hard, she looks down at her leg and hands and only starts to sob when she sees how much blood there is. Methiadusa takes off down the dirt path, screaming for help and Meli is left alone with her tears and the fear she will fall off the rock before someone comes to get her.

It feels like hours but then pater is there suddenly, pulling her off the rock and sitting with her in the shallows of the spring to wash off the wound. He’s scared, she can tell by the way his hands shake, but she’s also scared and she is small so she keeps crying because she doesn’t know what else to do.

The doctor comes to their house while mater paces back and forth, wringing her hands with worry. He gives Meli something for the pain and it makes her so sleepy she can barely think straight. When she wakes up, her leg and hands are wrapped up in tight bandages and the pain is a little bit better.

“Melina,” mater whispers, pushing the messy curls out of Meli’s face so her mother can see her. “Do not climb those rocks again, do you understand me?”

She nods meekly, scared at how sad mater looks. Sad at how pater keeps glancing over like he’s scared she’ll disappear. “I’m sorry, mater. Pater, I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.”

“We just want to keep you safe, mélissa,” her father murmurs as he walks over to her. “We will always try to keep you safe.”

iii.

We will always try to keep you safe. The words from nearly a year ago rattle around in her brain and she isn’t sure why she’s suddenly remembering them now. Now, long after the wound on her leg has scarred over. Now, when Melina is forced to leave her dead parents’ bodies on the ground and go with the men who killed them.

They laugh and joke and are loud and crude. They taunt her and mock her when she stumbles on rocks and can’t keep up with them. She is only six and a half years old, she wants to scream at them, but she is scared they’ll stab her too. So she lets them drag her over the rocky border into Malis. They’re meeting their ship off of Thermopylae, she hears them say, and the words barely mean anything to her. She knows there was a battle there. Everyone knows there was a battle there.

But that is all she knows. One of the men gets tired of watching her fall, tired of hauling her back to her feet so he carries her. She wants to kick him, wants to scream until he drops her, but they’re along a rocky ledge and she’s scared he’ll let her fall to her death. And she’s so tired, so drained, so she lets him carry her down to the shore.

Gonna take you to Attika, lil’ one, one of them tells her that night. Her clothes are ragged scraps now, and she’s covered in dirt and grime and she prays that Zeus strike this man down and take her away but he doesn’t listen. They make it to Attika and she’s bartered and sold like the one time mater bought a goat from their neighbor.

She wonders if anyone has found her parents yet. She hopes someone holds Auntie Philea when she cries...she’s just had a baby, Melina’s little cousin who she will never know.

She’s ushered into the kitchen of her new owner--an old man who is fond of gambling, she overhears the ladies in the room say. She doesn’t know what that means, but they clean her up and set her to work delivering snacks to the lady of the house. They’re not unkind to her and she’s at least grateful for that.

“When can I go home?” She asks the housekeeper one night and the old woman just sighs and turns away, giving her an answer without meaning to.

iv.

“What do you mean he lost us?” Phylia snaps, holding the opposite end of the blanket Melina holds. She just wants to finish this room so she can move to the next, but Phylace is clutching the blanket with white-knuckled fingers. “He fucking gambled us away?!”

“More like gambled his house and savings away and can’t afford us anymore,” Lede shrugs, resting her hand on Melina’s shoulder. “We’re bein’ split up and sold off. Some of us will stay here and others, I hear are...being sold to Lakonia.”

Melina looks up sharply as Phylia quiets, both of their eyes wide with fear. Shaking her head, Melina sets the blanket down, the situation finally sinking into her brain. “Lakonia? Sparta? But the...they literally hunt slaves.”

“Usually just the male ones,” Lede winces, her fingers tightening on the younger girl’s shoulder. “And who knows...it’s probably not any of us goin’ there anyway.”

Lede is wrong and her face is sheer terror when the slavers grab Melina’s arm. She steps forward, as if she’d grab the thirteen year old back from them but she stays silent, mouthing I’m so sorry over and over again. And then they grab Phylia and as they’re taken to the ship, she can hear Lede’s sobbing.

Melina leans into her friend, only two years her elder, their fingers twisted tightly together as they sit and sway on the ship headed for Lakonia. The slavers have kept them in cages, like animals, but Melina almost doesn’t mind--it is a barrier between her and them.

They have them stand before a crowd in the harbor: Melina, Phylia and the other slaves brought from all over Attika. Men and women alike stop and study each one of them, murmuring to themselves in their accented speak. All of them are tanned with dark hair and eyes--Melina feels more out of place among them physically than anything else with her lighter skin, blue eyes and blonde hair.

“I want her,” a deep voice rumbles, and she glances up quickly to see a wide-shouldered and fit older man point directly at her. “She’s a pretty little thing, isn’t she? My wife needs a new attendant,” he laughs with the slaver at some secret she’s not privy to, “since we had to get rid of the last.”

She’s dragged off the line, her fingers slipping from Phylia’s for the last time (she hisses out a be brave, girl, before turning her head back down and staying in her place), and brought before the Spartan. He takes her by the chin, forcing her to look at him and when he smiles, it’s not entirely unkindly. “What’s your name, girl?”

“Melina, sir,” she answers, keeping her head tilted up and her eyes locked on his until he releases her chin.

He asks how old she is and she tells him she’s thirteen--fourteen in two months--and that seems to satisfy him and he shoves a pouch of drachmae in the slaver’s hands and escorts her to his home. He doesn’t seem half-bad, and he introduces himself as Methodios.

“My wife,” he says, ushering a waifish woman toward her. “Kallixiena.”

“Pleased to meet you, mistress,” Melina recites dutifully and the woman just scoffs and leaves the room. She’s not sure why the woman hates her already, but she seems pretty adamant about it. The weeks pass and Melina finds herself not hating Lakonia as much as she thought she would. She doesn’t have many friends here--the helots are encouraged not to befriend each other here on Methodios’ farm, and while she doesn’t understand, she also doesn’t want to rock the boat when she is so new here.

He brings her things, sometimes, when his wife is gone or Melina has been dismissed back to her room for the day. Jewelry, hair pieces, and after about three months of living on the estate, he brings her an honest-to-gods bed with the plushest mattress she’s ever felt.

“You’re too thin to be sleeping on the floor,” he laughs, but doesn’t up her food rations at all. Nevermind, she thinks as she sinks onto the bed, the golden bracelets on her arms jingling as they shift, she will take the small victories where she can.

v.

Suddenly, in blinding, sickening clarity, the gifts of the past two and a half years make sense and she hates herself so much for accepting them even if she knows declining them would not have stopped this from happening.

Her stupid bracelets tinkle as he pushes her down onto the bed and she sobs out a weak please stop that ends with him backhanding her across the face. She tastes the metallic tang of blood on her lip and she freezes as he presses the cold iron of a dagger against her throat, pressing in just enough to draw a thick red line that oozes down her throat.

He curses her, tells her she is the temptress, that this is her fault, that he is only obeying her wills. She’s numb inside now, when he calls her names and in the same breath whispers how beautiful she is. He’s grown fat since his injuries made him retire from active duty; slovenly and drunk on wine. He reeks of it when he presses his mouth against hers and she forces herself to kiss him back, if only to keep from being killed.

Afterward, he dresses himself as she lays on her gifted bed, clutching the ruins of her gifted dress to her chest, the annoying jingle jangle of gifted, gaudy jewelry hanging from her ears and arms. He takes her chin in between his fingers and forces her to look up at him--he tells her he will be back later and she has to bite her tongue to keep from shuddering.

She grows number every time. She stops asking the gods for help--they do not care for mortals such as she. They stood by while her parents were murdered for trying to protect her, they stood by as Methodios touched her--as he touches her every time, as he lets his thugs touch her. He’d never hurt her before that night but now it’s like a fire in him has been stroked.

The mark on her neck heals into a curved scar around her throat, so he beats slashes into her back, slides a blade down her thigh, tells her she is lucky to carry his marks and all she can do is blink at him and smile vacantly because if she doesn’t, it will be so much worse.

A new helot makes the mistake of trying to help her one day, when the lashes on her back send pain down her arms and make her drop her basket. She tries to shoo him away, to tell him no and to leave her alone but he just smiles and presses the basket into her arms.

That night, she’s forced to watch as he’s beaten nearly to death by Methodios and his ‘friends’, who then decide to teach her another lesson as well. Eventually, she walls off all feelings and relishes in the numbness that overtakes her. She never knows what happens to that boy, just knows that she never sees him again and wishes, not for the first time, that Methodios would die.

That she would die. She may not pray to the gods anymore, for they do not listen, but she does hope for the end.

[gendertrader]

Physical Weight - 266 lb Height - 5′9″ Age - 24 25 mg Aldactone 1 month, 50 mg Aldactone 1 month

Because this is the first month that I’m ‘fully’ (due to reports suggesting that passing 100 mg may not be as effective as previously thought) on Aldactone, from here forward, I will report this as my first month.

Skin

Hair (body/head) [hairline, texture, thickness] I have noticed an increase in the amount of head hair that has fallen out over the past month.  This was not initially expected, but after some review of anecdotal reports, this is not uncommon.  Not enough has been lost to make it visible, but I will keep an eye out.

Face [hairline, cheekbones, facial hair, eyebrows, eyes, acne, skin] I have not noticed much change in facial structure as of yet, which is to be expected, but I’ve started wearing mascara more regularly and I’ve had an increase in acne, specifically around my chin, but it hasn’t been too bad.  I’m interested to see how this changes as I was not a particularly acne-ridden teenager. I have started trimming my beard a little differently to further act as contour, and its growth has started to have a more significant effect on my mental health.

Body [fat, taste, libido, hair, calves, nail growth, testes, temperature] I have seen little to no fat redistribution (unsurprising as it often takes up to 3 months of a full hormone regimen to start seeing real changes), but there may be a hint of gynecomastia from the aldactone.  I’m also learning to hold my body differently so as to accentuate the breast tissue, so any changes I’m seeing could self-influenced. I have noticed a clear increase in sugar, specifically chocolate, and salt cravings.  I have started incorporating a shake of iodized salt during meals to prep for this month, when I anticipate experiencing much stronger cravings.  I have seen mental health changes (please see mental health section for additional thoughts), which I imagine have contributed to the sugar cravings. Libido is...something.  I haven’t started fully experiencing the loss of libido caused by anti-androgens, but I seem to be getting it in waves that sort of follow my typical ‘horniness fluctuation’ if you will.  The primary difference is that everything is stronger: when I’m horny, I’m  h o r n y  but I can also go weeks at a time without masturbating and the sight of a hard dick does next to nothing for me.  I’m interested to see how this progresses. Despite taking a daily 10,000 mcg dose of biotin, I’ve seen a decrease in nail growth speed and a slight decrease in nail strength.  I used to be able to keep them rather long (good for painting, etc.) but they’ve been short for almost two weeks now (after I removed the pink fake nails pictured above) and little to no growth has occurred.  Finally, and I’m not sure that this is due to Aldactone, I’m having a more difficult time properly digesting food.  Part of me believes it’s due to my wearing high-waisted women’s jeans every day, which press on a part of my abdomen that isn’t usually compressed and could potentially disrupt flow of digestion through the stomach, but it occurs even when I’ve not worn those specific pants all day.  I suppose this warrants additional observation.

Mental/Emotional Brain Fog I’m creating a new category specifically to mention brain fog.  I have definitely seen an increase in what I must assume is the brain fog for which I see so many reports.  To me, it feels like when you’ve been high for a really long time and finally start coming down - almost as if there’s a layer of thought that has been suppressed and you have to focus just a little more than usual to process the things happening around you.  I imagine that, for somebody who has never been high, this could be rather disconcerting and difficult to navigate.  Fortunately, I’ve been smoking for about 2 years straight as this point, so I have very little trouble living with a little bit of brain fog for now.  I will make an update if I notice an increase in fog from 50 to 100 mg.

Depression There has been a slight but definite increase in depression symptoms.  It feels like it’s primarily due to the energy-sapping quality of Aldactone, and less like I’m extra sad all the time, but the sadness-depression has increased somewhat as well.  I imagine this is due to the fact that I’m no longer actively repressing my understanding of self as a transfeminine individual, so the masculine qualities that I dislike are starting to stand out more.  Some examples of these include my beard (I used to go 1-2 weeks without shaving as I am a depressed graduate student and don’t always have the time/energy to shave, but I’m now shaving around twice a week), my face (a couple times while really high and having removed my glasses, I’ve seen Alex as she can be with estrogen but it usually lasts for minutes at a time, so I’m then immediately reminded that I do not look like this - clearly the typical trans experience, but I didn’t think it would be this strong for me and it feels like it’s only the beginning, so I’m strapping up), or my internal experience of being alive (it /feels like/ I’m on testosterone, and sometimes that just gets the best of me; during those times, I have to remind myself that wanting to be a girl is a symptom of being a girl.  It’s then that it feels like I’m getting a taste of the true Trans Experience and I have to code switch into thinking how lucky am I to have so much room to grow which only helps a little but that’s more than nothing).  I had a few boy days recently, which were nice because everything matched up, but it was somewhere closer to 3 or 4 days out of the month so I’m less worried about my boy days interfering with my transition.  Finally, as I’ve stated before, even without the effect of the Aldactone, or the drain of coming out to everybody around me, or the strain of an actual social transition, it’s exhausting.  Because I choose every day to take this medication that continues to bring me one step closer to my ideal self, I also inevitably must at least briefly consider what I am doing and the changes I hope to see, which is much more introspection on this topic than I’ve wanted to do for a while.  I’m nervous that friends are going to find out before I’m ready (I’m in my final months of my master’s program so there’s no reason in my mind to attempt a social transition yet as I have other very difficult things to do already (I have a conference in which I present at the end of the month and I have to finish data collection and create a poster; I have to collect data for my thesis before analyzing said data and completing my master’s thesis before the April 22 (I think???) deadline so I can graduate on time; I have to find a job (lmao this is so difficult brb crying), which will include a million applications and half a million job interviews; I have to complete 2 additional manuscripts for publication (again, once data collection is completed); and I have to move to wherever I eventually get a job) and I don’t need a social transition piled on top because I’m already barely staying afloat as it is.

Anxiety There may have been a very slight increase in anxiety near the middle to end of the month, but I had also been on the same strain of weed for a while, so I wasn’t taken off guard at all.

[asterdeer]

flower ask meme: arum-lily, aster, baneberries, basket of gold, black-eyed susan, blazing stars, borage, bulgeherb, camelia, candytuffs, carnation, cock's comb, common boneset, daisy, false goat's beard, freesia, garden cosmos, gladiolus, rosemallows, transvaal daisy, and tropical white morning glory

Arum-Lily: What’s the farthest you’d go for a stranger? gave a man my lunch and cash when he came up to my window while i was idling at a red light? stayed five minutes past closing time to tell someone how to get somewhere even tho im terrible at directions

Aster: What’s one of your favorite quotes? “I believe that if a woman poet survives, if she sets out on that distance and arrives at the other end, then she has an obligation to tell as much as she knows of the ghosts within her, for they make up, in essence, her story as well.”contrariwise“I am not well-adjusted. More often than not, I am barely keeping it together. I’m constantly texting, and there’s no one on the other end. I’m just a grown man who can’t even look his own friends in the eye for too long because I’m afraid that they’ll see that I’m broken. So, you get credit for that. One time, when I was in 7th grade, I told everybody at school I had appendicitis. I wanted somebody to worry about me, but when Beth Brennan asked to see the scar I didn’t wanna get found out. So, I took mom’s scissors, and I made one. It hurt like hell. But it was worth it because I got 17 cards, and I still keep them in a box underneath my bed 22 years later because it proves that someone at some point cared about me. Want to see the scar?”

Baneberries: Favorite song? atm its either “high hopes” by panic!, “quarter past midnight” by bastille, or “when the night is over” by lord huron

Basket of Gold: Describe your familyim best friends with my mom, my brother terrifies me bc i love him so much, my granddad was my best teacher of selflessness and sacrifice, my cousin who was my best friend fell apart at exactly the same time i did and we never really got back together, i met my twin when i was like fourteen and needed them most, i have a grandmother who ended up teaching me more of what not to do than anything else, and i did in fact have a father, all evidence to the contrary

Black-Eyed Susan: If you could be any animal for a day, what would it be?a giraffe. no doubt

Blazing Stars: What are you afraid of? Is there a reason why? 101 things ! spiders because one crawled into my bed when i was 12 at five in the morning and my cat woke me up because it was just there at my feet, also never having someone fall in love w me, also watching everyone leave me when they figure out im worthless ! mostly spiders

Borage: Give a random fact about your childhood. there was a very shallow sort of…. gorge? ravine? it was like a steep drop off in the land down to a v rocky stream that cut behind our house in our old neighborhood. they didnt let us play there often bc my brother’s then-best friend slipped and cut his foot bad but i loved it back there + if i had been reading warriors at that point it would have been my clan camp fs

Bugleherb: How would you spend your last day on Earth?  slashing the tires of as many animal abusers as i could find. then go rent a boat and take my family/friends out on the water. pass out some macarons maybe? gravestone shaped macarons? make everyone read some of four quartets out loud. also cuddle my cat a whole WHOLE whole lot 

Camelia: If you could visit anywhere, where would you want to go? ive wanted to visit ireland for literally as long as i can remember

Candytufts: When do you feel most loved? when i havent eaten for a good while

Carnation: What are you currently wearing?  mucha-esque loki tee shirt and my mom’s fluffy cloud pajama pants

Cock’s Comb: Favorite font?lydian bc it reminds me of when i was 10 and my cousin and i were writing our stories on the same computer and that was the font we used

Common Boneset: What are you looking forward to?everybodys workin for the weekend. captain marvel comes out next week too

Daisy: What do you feel is your greatest accomplishment? 1) winning the novel contest 2) making people laugh during my thesis defense 3) not offing myself during 2014 or 2017

False Goat’s Beard: What is something you are good at?embarrassing myself! 

Freesia: What are three good things that have happened in the past month? 1) job 2) sushi 3) staying till almost midnight at a friend’s house talking whcih was the most ive actually been touched by a person besides my mom in weeks

Garden Cosmos: How was your day today?exhausting but i got a lot of reading done

Gladiolus: What is something you hope to do in the next year or two? submit a novel for publication. try to get into an editing program. grow potatoes and cucumbers, revive/expand my catnip and rosemary. donate money and buy art and take trips and make better food

Rosemallows: What’s your favorite memory? literally the only memory that doesnt feel like a rebuke or a warning rn is the day i met you in person

Transvaal Daisy: What’s your favorite item of clothing? thats either the high waisted bell bottom jeans my aunt gave me a while back or the black and green striped top that ive worn holes into ive had it so long

Tropical White Morning Glory: Describe your aesthetic.  i literally dont have one, its a hideous + boring mishmash of four different aesthetics frankensteined together that doesnt make good art ever 

[truthfulrebellion-blog]

Hysterectomy

Let’s call it what it is. No pussy footing around it. A necessary evil on the way to the end game: phalloplasty. I had been waiting almost six months to hear back about my approval for phalloplasty. I currently have health insurance through Kaiser Permanente, and they had a laundry list of things for me to do in order to present my file to the medical board. I had to transfer my files over from the organization I was seeking healthcare through, as it was cheaper than paying out of pocket for an endocrinologist, to Kaiser. I also had to obtain letters from two medical professionals confirming my need for bottom surgery. The whole process took nearly a year and several trips to medical facilities nearly thirty miles away from my home. My case manager finally called and said in order for the final review to occur, I had to get a hysterectomy.

At the time, I thought that was done by the surgeon performing the phalloplasty at the time of the phalloplasty. With Kaiser, that is not the case. They want anything and everything they have the capability of doing done within their facility. Likely to keep costs down. I didn’t mind. My hysterectomy was scheduled for December 15th, 2018. I had to get blood tests done and watch several videos that didn’t pertain to my situation regarding the procedure. The videos are, obviously, geared towards women. I did what I needed to do and prepared myself for the surgery date. I got a call to move my surgery up about 10 days, even better. Then not 24 hours before the surgery, I received a call stating that it was being delayed for a week. My new date was the 11th. This was terribly inconvenient as my care giver for after my surgery had already taken off work for the original surgery date.

I walked into the facility to check in about an hour early. I had yet another interesting surprise. The surgery was going to cost me money. $475, or close to it. Luckily, I had the money. I was very upset that I wasn’t told about this ahead of time, however. I am paying for the most expensive coverage this company offers so I had as little to pay out of pocket as possible. In the grand scheme of things, $475 is better than $10k. It still would have been nice to know before I showed up. If you have Kaiser, please make sure you know exactly what the costs are before you walk in the door.

I got checked in. I had to remove all of my clothing, put on a hospital gown & surgery cap, and take one final per break. I also forgot to mention I had to stop eating at midnight the day of and wipe my body down with these pre-surgery wipes. I was hungry and my skin smelled weird. They hooked up my IV, fed me my “lunch”, and several doctors came in to ask me questions and verify information. My surgery was supposed to occur at 3pm, but was delayed until closer to 5/530. My surgeon came in to make sure I knew what was about to take place. He also talked to me about a surgeon for bottom surgery in Arizona or New Mexico he was going to refer me to. He had given me the name in our prior consultation. When I looked that surgeon up, I was horrified. The man was fired from the California region Kaiser Permanente for botching transwomens vaginoplasties. The guy didn’t even specialize in phalloplasty. I expressed these concerns to him and told him it probably wouldn’t be a good idea to partner with him for any trans surgeries. Hopefully he heeds my advice. He confirmed that after the surgery, he would stick to the decision to refer me to Dr. Jens Berli of Portland, OR.

I knew nothing of Dr. Berli. There are no results to been seen online, barely anyone who has undergone his procedure even talks about their results, and I couldn’t find any other information besides his starting point in Maryland. I found his Facebook page and did some pretty intense research on him. He seems to genuinely care about his patients and has a passion for what he does. His only negative review is from someone who never had surgery with him because of a communication issue with his staff. Everyone else gave him five stars. So, I figured why the hell not. Hopefully my progress will help others who may be going to Dr. Berli for their phalloplasty be more comfortable with moving forward with him or the surgery itself. I am flying as blind in this moment as some of those who might read this in the future might feel. Trust me. I feel your pain.

I finally went in for my surgery. This time I wasn’t put under until I was on the surgery table. For my top surgery, I was out before I turned the corner on the way to the operating room. The next thing I remember is waking up several hours later and in pain. I couldn’t keep my eyes open. I was very disoriented. I’m not surprised considering I was on anesthesia. Apparently I wasn’t breathing enough either since my O2 alarm kept going off. I had to stay for an extra hour until I could get my breathing going regularly. Which is hard because I believe I have sleep apnea, and when I sleep I breathe much slower than I do when I’m awake. So I would fall back asleep, stop breathing, and be woken up by the nurses to get me to breathe. I didn’t feel any different than I usually do. I was actually quite comfy. But I’m sure it was uncomfortable for others around me to see me breathe 1-2 times a minute while asleep.

I was in so much pain. The pain meds hadn’t kicked in yet. I had had a total hysterectomy, oophorectomy, and partial vaginectomy. Let me tell you. When your genitals are covered in stitches, sitting fucking hurts. I couldn’t get comfortable. Then I had to go to the bathroom. Lord, that was an adventure in of itself. Once I was done, I had to have the nurse help me pull my maternity disposable underwear and extra absorbent pad on. And to help me get dressed. The was a humbling experience. But those disposable underwear are comfortable AF. I wish I had had more of them. I was only sent home with the 1 extra pair. After I got dressed, they sent my care giver to get the car. They sat me in a wheel chair and wheeled me to the pick up area. Wheel chairs are super uncomfortable. I begged the nurse to let me sit on the plushy waiting area seat, but she told me no. I couldn’t wait to get out of that chair. It hurt so bad.

I’ll spare additional details about the trip home. I was basically in pain in the seat, it took over an hour to get home, and I got right in the couch seat I’d be in for the next week and fell asleep. I had to wake up every 1-2 hours to pee and every 4 hours to take my pain meds. Compared to my chest surgery, the pain of the hysterectomy actually wasn’t too bad. I barely needed any medicine. The worst pain came when I peed. It burned like the surface of the sun, and I could barely get the urine out. This lasted for about 2-3 days. I was bleeding pretty regularly for 1-2 weeks and spotting until the 6th week. I had horrible colored discharge the entire recovery. I actually had to go get adult diapers when my last pair of those comfy underwear got worn out. I couldn’t find any of those huge puffy pads or anything without adhesive.

I think the worst part was not being able to poop. I could feel the poop in my back. I really could. But I could not get my bowels to work. Apparently, this is normal. I ended up pooping on day 5. Best advice? Take stool softeners religiously. I would go so far as to say take a laxative on day 3 or 4 because that poop is going to be quite solid. TMI alert, my first poop after surgery tore a little bit of the inside. Like a hemorrhoid. I’m getting into these details because I wish I had had them. It’s not rainbows and butterflies. It’s bleeding and inability to poop. I also could barely sleep as I had to sleep on my back, and I can’t sleep on my back. I get so unfortable. By day 3 I was sleeping on my side on the other couch. I’m also a bigger guy, so I had to hold my stomach when I got up since there was a lot of pain from my belly hanging. I’m not 300+ pounds or anything, but I do have a beer belly. If you are the same, just be prepared for tummy pain when getting up.

I slept on the couch for 3 weeks. It was so much more comfortable than my bed. And it was easy access to everything. I am almost 8 weeks post op and still get tummy pain. But for the most part, pain and blood free. I do still have discharge coming out. I’ll probably continue to wear the diapers until I run out just in case. I had already ruined a pair of pants when I thought the discharge was done. But after about 7-10 days, I was walking around and driving and doing what I needed to do. It was uncomfortable to sit and bend over, so my roommate had to help with a lot of things. My final observation is to leave the scabs alone. I accidentally picked at my belly scab and one of the dissolvable stitches came loose from my incision. I had that stitch hanging out for at least 2 weeks until it finally dissolved at the base and popped off. My scars look great and my hair has finally grown back on my stomach.

I’m doing all of this well after my surgery, so I am sure I have missed a thing or two. If you have any questions, please give me a comment or a message. I will answer anything.

[angrygoatgirl]

have you heard about that eating disorder diabetics get when they purposefully don't get insulin so they can lose weight? I'm trying so hard not to start it, but it's like an urge inside me. I'm not "fat" but I would say I'm a little chubby. I really want to lose about 15 pounds before college, but every time I start to exercise and eat right I gain weight since my blood sugar is low all the time no matter how many adjustments I make. Do you have any words to offer me?

This is a topic I have often thought of writing about, but never had the courage to post. Anonymous, I’m doing this for you, please listen:I know exactly what you are talking about and exactly how you feel, because I’ve done it, it almost killed me, and even though I nearly died from it, I’m sometimes still tempted. It’s called diabulimia (if you don’t already know) and while not yet officially recognized as an eating disorder, it is finally gaining the attention of the medical community and even the media; the BBC did a brief documentary on it recently, which I haven’t yet seen. Diabulimia falls under the bulimia umbrella because restriction of insulin is used as a form of purging; one doesn’t have to induce vomiting to have bulimia, as some people think – people may have exercise bulimia (overexercising as a form of purging), use laxatives, or other purging behaviors. For us type 1s, insulin restriction is a unique option. The first and most important thing to know is that you are not alone. You are not alone. And that is worth more than you may realize.   In a survey conducted by Joslin Diabetes Research Center, one third of type 1 women admitted to having manipulated their insulin in an attempt to lose weight. Yes, you read that right: one third. And that is self-reporting, which means it’s probably lower than the real number. The statistics on the incidence of eating disorders in both men and women with diabetes have not yet been nailed down, but the evidence does show that people with diabetes also are much more likely to have eating disorders than the general population. 

To understand one of the possibilities why this is the case, here is a quotation from Ulla Kärkkäinen, a Finnish research nutritionist, defining disordered eating: 

“Eating is disordered when a person arbitrarily decides when they are hungry or full, regardless of how they are feeling; weighs themselves constantly; or drinks non-caloric drinks to keep from feeling hungry. Eating can also be considered disordered if a person meticulously plans each meal long into the future, counts calories and weighs foods, follows an excessively strict diet or cuts certain foods from their diet…”That is the treatment for type 1 diabetes. Whether or not we eat is dictated by a number on a meter, not by how we feel. Meals are planned and food is measured and weighed so that we can dose properly. What and when we eat is almost always at the forefront of our minds, literally so we won’t die. Our bodies are constantly being measured to see whether results are satisfactory. Add to that societal misconceptions about diabetes, the tendency of insulin to make some people gain weight, the recently discovered direct effect of insulin on dopamine levels, and the multitudinous other factors that can make weight management harder for diabetics, and you’ve got a perfect storm. So I’ll say it again: you are not alone.The first time I experienced diabulimia I was fourteen. I didn’t have a word for what I was doing, because the word hadn’t been invented yet. I just knew that before I was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes, I was losing weight and feeling good about my body, and after I was diagnosed and started taking insulin, I gained weight and felt ugly and fat. It was the mid 90s and heroin chic was in, the pressure to be super thin was already overwhelming for any girl, but added to that was the pressure not to conform to diabetic stereotypes: I didn’t want the ignorant kids who thought I got diabetes from eating too many sweets to be validated. I knew rationally that my chubbiness didn’t make them right, but reason couldn’t change how I felt. I was too afraid to restrict my insulin for more than a few days, though…or maybe I was too strong and had not yet been worn down enough? I don’t know. It wasn’t until my twenties that I really went for it. Like you, I wasn’t fat. I was athletic with maybe 10 or 15 pounds of chub that I would have liked to have shifted. My family life was difficult. I was broke and on my own. I had no insurance and was already rationing insulin to try and make it last. I didn’t know at the time that burnout is common for diabetics, but I was suffering my first burnout. I was completely worn down by life and by diabetes, and I just wanted to be able to control one thing. Just one. So I started manipulating insulin. I took control by refusing to control my diabetes.And, oh how I rationalized it! I would take my long-acting and skip the fast-acting, I was still taking some insulin, that was surely better than none, right? I was riding 300s and 400s, but it wasn’t 500s or 600s, so it couldn’t be that bad, right? I’d had perfect A1Cs ever since my diagnosis – that was over a decade! What could a few weeks of high sugars really do? Other people were out of control of their diabetes all the time, and they were still okay. There were type 2s walking around with high blood sugars for years not even knowing! And when it started to work and the weight just fell off, it was easier and easier to rationalize. “Just five more pounds,” I’d say. “Just ten more pounds and I’ll stop.”Of course, one of the side-effects of high blood sugar is extreme hunger, so my eating habits became harder and harder to control. I craved carbs like never before. A whole pizza, an entire box of cereal, two dozen Oreos couldn’t satiate me: and the more I ate, the thinner I got. I never binge ate before the diabulimia, but my body was starving, and so bingeing became a thing for me…especially since it just made me lose more weight. I hadn’t gained control, I’d lost it. Completely.One morning at 5am, after three months of rationing insulin and rationalizing my diabulimia, after a night of nonstop vomiting…I realized I was dying. I was so sick, I lost seven more pounds THAT DAY. I could barely breathe and my heart felt like it was going to explode, trying to pump the sludge that was my acid blood through my veins. I asked my roommate to drive me to the Emergency Room, but before I left, I stepped on the scale and felt really good about how much weight I’d lost. I’d gone from someone whose chronic illness necessitated disordered eating to someone with a full blown eating disorder. And the eating disorder had taken me over.I spent the next 3 days in the ICU wearing an oxygen mask, catheterized, a massive hematoma on my arm from the excruciating arterial blood draws, searing potassium being delivered via IV to the other arm. Five IVs in all. They told me if I’d waited just a few more hours I’d have died. I’m not telling you this in an attempt to “scare you straight”, though. You know the risks as well as I did. Sometimes knowing the risks and even having lived them isnt’ enough. Eating disorder wouldn’t be a mental illness if it was rational. What you may not know is just how quickly and easily and how TOTALLY it takes you over.So I’m going to tell you the one thing that keeps me from going back to diabulimia when I am really struggling: diabulimia doesn’t really work. The minute you start taking insulin again, the weight comes back with a vengeance. It is a fleeting fix – the high blood sugar might as well be the high of heroin or meth: you feel better in the moment, but when you come down off that high it is hell, and everything that pushed you to try it the first time has just been made worse.I’ve been struggling with eating disorders ever since, though I’ve not resorted to diabulimia again. Sometimes, like I said, I feel so down that the only thing keeping me from it is knowing its effects are temporary. I even checked myself into one of the most renowned eating disorder treatment centers in the country…sadly, there is little known about treating eating disorder in type 1 diabetics, and the traditional treatments for eating disorders are in direct contradiction to the treatment of diabetes. In the end, their attempts to help me only made me worse. With hard work and help from a sympathetic endocrinologist and diabetes educator, though, I’ve been recovering. I’ve even gone a few years at a time with the eating disorder tamed. I still have relapses, though. While I can never know for sure, I think that if I had never tried diabulimia, I would never have developed any full blown eating disorders.You asked if I had any words for you and it saddens me that I have so many, and that so few of them are good. I don’t think it is hopeless, though: I have lost weight in a healthy way with diabetes, and without my eating disorder taking control. It was harder for me than for people without diabetes, but it can be done. I’ve had periods where the eating disorder was barely even there. I learned that weight really wasn’t even the real problem, and learned that there were other things to focus on for my mental and physical health. And even though my treatment experience was mostly negative, I took a few really positive things from it: the realization that my eating disorder didn’t have to define me, the realization that I wasn’t alone, and that it was okay to ask for help. You see, just as the stereotypes about diabetes are mostly wrong, so are the stereotypes about eating disorders. Eating disorder is seen as the ailment of the young, white, middle-class, anorexic chick. But the truth is, there was every kind of woman in that treatment center: women from age 14 to 64, of every ethnicity and religion, rich and poor, rail-thin to morbidly obese. And there were so many women there whom, had I not known they were struggling with eating disorders, I would have thought totally had their shit together, were confident, were admirable. Knowing that such admirable women were facing the same struggle as me made me hate myself less. You are not alone. Your weight doesn’t define you, and it certainly isn’t worth developing an eating disorder and potentially losing your life. If you need more help, ask for it, but remember that you have to balance your mental health with your diabetes, and don’t let anyone tell you one is more important than the other. They are both necessary.And that is it. There is no easy solution to this problem, there is not a moral or neat ending to this story, there isn’t a tidy little bow to tie this shit up with. I just hope that you will read my experience and spare yourself going through it, because it’s not worth it.   

[roxxdafoxx]

Why I stopped celebrating the holidays...

for me holidays were always a disappointment the decision to not celebrate the holidays can save you money and  your sanity its definitely a “rich mans holiday” my grandmother always made it a point to make sure i felt valued she always got me a gift and a birthday cake My great grandmother an I shared the same birth date and having a birthday with my great grandmother was the best now with the exception of a few cousins and my children now that my entire family is dead and after spending every holiday in the hospital ive had a lot of time spent in isolation to learn and get to know myself and God on a more intimate and deeper level not being with family always being depressed during the holidays made me realize why am i allowing these holidays cause me anxiety get me all upset about being able to afford gifts for everyone especially when u have a big heart and the desire to give to everyone id give to almost everyone in the entire world if i could but feeling that way during holidays never sat right with me it would ruin my mood my self esteem/self worth i would feel i had no value like i was never good enough no matter hat i did or gave would never be good enough i would find myself damn near balled up in a corner crying on a day that was supposed to be happy my birthday being so close to christmas put my birthday in the my mind in the  “you dont matter box” lol im sure most can relate if their birthday is during that time when most people are getting ready for the holidays while everyone else gets both a birthday present and a christmas present for christmas babies your lucky if you even get a gift in general trying to throw a party around that time is equally as difficult people are just too busy the holiday its supposed to be about Jesus and his birth and birthday although its not even the day he was born a lot of people aint even really thinking about Jesus at all some celebrate christmas and dont even believe in God its just tradition for them and a reason to celebrate and get gifts and its origins have nothing to do with God!!! The origin of Christmas is completely opposite of what most think theyre celebrating and most are in denial that they continue to celebrate a lie with a dark origin they say halloween is a devils holiday but Christmas is too!! the reason the birth of Jesus is not listed in the bible is because God never planned or commanded us to celebrate his birth because he doesnt have a birthdate he has always existed the bible even calls it foolishness (Jer 10) this is the reason people cant wait for the holiday cram to be over with because theyre busy trying to please everyone except God being selflessly selfish and putting themselves into debt is that really the correct way to show people that you care?  When u travel a bit when u go through some things when u see people struggle just to have a roof over their head are homeless or living in a shelter or if you think of people in other countries who are just grateful for a pair of old worn out shoes you realize how vain the holidays really are the bible even calls it “vanity” when you look at all the beautiful decorations all the money spent on trees and lights etc u start to see it for what it really is its all “vanity” please believe im not being judgemental i celebrated this holiday before i somewhat celebrated it even tho i was in the hospital i mean you really cant avoid the celebration because the majority is celebrating and it will trickle its way on down to you in one way or another for instance i no longer celebrate and this is my first year deciding not to the nurses bought me gifts along with a santa claus hat that ive been wearing because i love hats its warm im into costumes and fashion but even fashion can be considered vanity we have put ourselves in a place and position that we forgot where we came from and what our ancestors went through.. I loved planning birthdays and surprises for friends, but when it came to me, the favor was never returned. That's when I realized that planning my own birthday or holidays or others birthdays that it was too much pressure trying to please others. it still makes you feel inadequate and terrible. nobody cares  Let's be real Everyone is already in debt. Your birthday just became another errand on their daily to-do list. If you invite a lot of people they dont show up or might not bring anything some folks just really are there for the food and a party could care less about you but its just something to do it could mean you have false friendships/relationships in general and you're just there hoping for gifts even fake friends buy gifts too u just never know .... the dark origins is really what made me give up on holidays valentines day is supposed to be about love but i never felt more unloved than on that day halloween aka “the devils day” you get more gifts of candy from strangers than any other holiday ironically and its like the  day where being scared is supposed to be fun the bible clearly states fear is not of God a lot of people like that stuff and like the feeling of being afraid until its a real situation then its not so fun.. i can barely watch horror films i honestly dont know how people come up with these crazy scary movies how do they film them write them and play these characters i mean acting is most def a talent...If you’ve never researched where our Christmas traditions come from, if interested in the truth look into it. I started to share them here, but it would take me FOR.EV.ER. to go through all of the names, dates, traditions, etc. But look into where Dec. 25th came from.  the Yule log, the Christmas tree and its ornaments and lights, holly, mistletoe, wreaths, the Christmas ham… look up Winter Solstice and Saturnalia. If you are really interested in knowing where your traditions come from and what they mean… do some studying.Suffice it to say, what we are doing when we partake of the traditions of Christmas is nothing more than imitating the pagan’s worship of the sun god. And i no longer can stand to have any part of spitting in the face of God. (Sorry, I know that sounds harsh, but this is how it makes me feel.)For a long time I tried to rationalize that it was okay to continue enjoying the festivities. After all, we weren’t doing it to worship a sun god, we were honoring the birth of Christ! Right? Well, after much prayer and studying God’s word, one day the Lord revealed this analogy to me.Let’s just say that your spouse has cheated on you. After all, the Lord does call his people an “adulterous bride” after they went chasing pagan gods.Let’s say that your cheating spouse has come back to you, and asked your forgiveness. All has been made right again.Now, let’s say it’s your birthday. And your spouse wants to honor you on this day. (Although, in an appropriate analogy the celebration wouldn’t even be on your actual birthday!its on the other womans/guys birthday)But instead of giving you gifts that you have clearly expressed a desire for, your spouse gives you things that his lover enjoyed! He made his/her favorite foods, wanted to enjoy his/her favorite activities with you, lavished you with things that would have delighted him/her! Now, would this honor you? Would you feel loved and esteemed in this situation? Of course not!!! You’d be Livid!!! Is this not what we do to Christ, when we say that we are honoring Him by means of pagan traditions!? Being me,.. I wanted to find something in Scripture to solidify my convictions. Would God see the intentions of my heart, and understand that I’m just trying to please Him? Or would He be angry as I know I would be in that situation?...YHWH brought me to Exodus 32, the story of the Golden Calf. Remember that one? Moses had gone up onto the mountain to speak with God (and bring down the 10 commandments), but he took so long in coming that the people began to wonder what had happened to him. They asked Aaron to make a golden calf for them to worship, and he did so. But I thought this was fascinating, in verse 5 of that same chapter Scripture says, “And when Aaron saw it (the golden calf), he built an altar before it; and Aaron made proclamation, and said, Tomorrow is a feast to the LORD.”Do you see what he was doing? The people had fallen back into pagan practices, and were worshiping an idol, yet saying it was to honor God!!  The next verse goes on to say,“And they rose up early on the morrow, and offered burnt offerings, and brought peace offerings; and the people sat down to eat and to drink, and rose up to play.”Wow. Sounds like they were having a very fun celebration, huh?! Did the Lord look at the rejoicing of their hearts and feel honored? Let’s find out…In verses 7-9, YHWH speaks to Moses and tells him what the people are doing. He says that they have “corrupted themselves”, and “turned aside quickly out of the way which I commanded them”.Then in verse 10, YHWH says, “Now therefore let me alone, that my wrath may wax hot against them, and that I may consume them…”.He was SO ANGRY! He was ready to destroy them all! Evidently, He was not pleased at the way they were trying to honor Him… mixing worship with pagan traditions. Mixing the holy with the unholy. water oil Vinegar type mix Just. Like. Christmas.....As I continued to study, I also came to 1 Samuel 15…This is where King Saul went out to destroy the Amalekites. But the Lord specifically told him (through Samuel) that he was to “utterly destroy all that they have, and spare them not; but slay both man and woman, infant and suckling, ox and sheep, camel and donkey.” (verse 3)But if you read on, you’ll find in verse 21 that they did not do as the Lord had commanded, and had in fact brought back with them the best of the sheep and oxen instead of killing them. Of course, when Samuel confronts him about it, Saul rationalizes that they did it “to sacrifice unto the LORD”.Here again, man is disobeying the Lord’s commands, yet saying he is doing so to try to please God. What does the Lord say? Verse 22-23, “And Samuel said, Hath the LORD as great delight in burnt offerings and sacrifices, as in obeying the voice of the LORD? Behold, to “OBEY” is better than sacrifice”!!!, .For rebellion is as the sin of witchcraft, and stubbornness is as iniquity and idolatry. Because thou hast rejected the word of the LORD, he hath also rejected thee from being king.”God didn’t want the sacrifices. He wanted obedience!!!.Here’s another in Deuteronomy 12:29-31; He is speaking to the Israelites before they go into the promised land,“When Yahweh your Elohim cuts off from before you the nations which you go to dispossess, and you displace them and dwell in their land, take heed to yourself that you are not ensnared to follow them, after they are destroyed from before you, and that you do not inquire after their gods, saying, `How did these nations serve their gods? I also will do likewise.’You shall not worship Yahweh your Elohim in that way; for every abomination to Yahweh which He hates they have done to their gods…”We are specifically told NOT to worship God with the ways of the pagans!! Jesus himself said in Matthew 15:7-9, “Ye hypocrites, well did Isaiah prophesy of you, saying, This people draweth nigh unto me with their mouth, and honoureth me with their lips; but their heart is far from me. But in vain they do worship me, teaching for doctrines the commandments of men.”I don’t want to worship in vain, forsaking the commandments of God and clinging to the traditions of men. (also in Matt. 15:3)I don’t want to have anything to do with the unholy.Ephesians 5:11, “And have no fellowship with the unfruitful works of darkness, but rather reprove them.”In fact, the recurring theme all throughout Scripture is for God’s people to NOT follow the way of the pagans (in other words, go along with what the rest of the unbelieving world does), but to be set apart as holy, and to honor YHWH by obeying His commandments!If we profess to worship the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Israel, then we cannot ignore the very character of God as repeated to us throughout Scripture. He is a loving God, yes, but He is also a jealous God. He will not share His people with idols.“For thou shalt worship no other god: for the LORD whose name is Jealous, is a jealous God.” Exodus 34:14 But let’s just say, for the sake of argument, that Christmas traditions don’t really have pagan roots. Let’s just pretend that’s a bunch of baloney.Even still, nowhere in Scripture is it commanded to remember the birth of Christ. In fact, what we are commanded to celebrate are the Biblical Feasts of the Lord (given in Lev. 23), including Passover in remembrance of Christ’s death. Yet, far too many Christians have never even heard of the seven Feasts of the Lord, or they think they are “Jewish” celebrations. Scripture doesn’t call these holy days (not holidays) “Jewish feasts”, but the LORD’s Feasts. And everyone who calls himself a child of Elohim is to keep them. Forever.And so, we have chosen to give the Lord the gifts He has specifically requested, and honor Him through celebrating and remembering the Feasts of the lord.Loved ones, I know that Christmas is a special time of year, and that people get very caught up in its traditions and festivities. But our hearts yearn to honor the Lord… above all else. And this is something that i feel is non-negotiable.So, im  saying “No”: to the holiday rush, and fighting over the latest toys for my kids, and inflatable yard decorations, and the lies of a bearded man who claims to have the powers of God (all seeing, all knowing, all present), and the Great Big Toys “R” Us Book, and “Yuletide” carols, and guilt induced credit card spending, and drunken company Christmas parties, and everything else that the world gets so wrapped up in during this time of year.For me, it really only comes down to one thing:“If you love me, keep my commandments.” John 14:15 And I think I’ve laid out pretty clearly what i believe the Lord expects from us.  one holiday i like which is the 4th of july because it summer and there’s fireworks in the sky and bbq but what is the true origin of 4th of july? i wish we didn’t have to have wars i wish people could just live and let live without hurting anyone why steal why not just learn from each other share a world without greed would be beautiful but also when u have nothing really left and after you have gotten rid of all the fake people in your life u find no real reason to celebrate if you have no one to celebrate with with my family all passing away the money has been short after being  locked up in an institution it puts a damper on things i feel like these holidays are made up just to make the rich get rich yes we all want to have fun and have a good time but id rather celebrate with the right people for the right reason without any ulterior motives that battle against principalities ans spiritual wickedness against rulers of darkness evil spirits in high places the fowl of the air id much rather sell things to people who do celebrate these holidays because at least it can help with bills instead of be a hindrance and burden in my life i’m not judging anyone who celebrates holidays i use to celebrate them too i’m just sharing why i have chosen not to  honestly i celebrate everyday i buy gifts throughout the year why celebrate when the government wants us to? so they can capitalize on the citizens have us participate in their hellenistic rituals that we aren’t even  made aware of until we do the homework and learn about them for ourselves these traditions were forced on us we weren’t given a choice and to think we were told that by celebrating these days we are honoring God and all along we arent we are honoring other gods celebrating holidays that have origins of other gods and not the true God the bible doesn’t encourage us to entertain these practices why even celebrate anything that has the potential to be a set  up for disappointment by not celebrating it eliminates any expectation of having a day that you really only see in the movies on the hallmark channel i’ve also noticed people dread and just cant wait for it to be over like a funeral and its supposed to be a joyful prosperous time its even programmed to be called the most wonderful time of the year i tell ya satan is a sly trickster i chose life and freedom from the imprisonment that i feel when it comes to the holidays so while everyone else is celebrating i decided to be happy and enjoy myself in my own company with God the real comforter snuggled up to him in worship and gratefulness as an introvert id rather spend the days away from all of that i enjoy being an introvert i enjoy being in my own company creating with the creator holding me down and uplifting me and perhaps the holidays have turned me into  a “scroogey your highness grinch” because i view things differently now but with that comes the freedom of me not having to do what everyone else is doing setting myself apart from the masses (mass level of destruction lol insider) i’m living my life by my rules by my preferences and spending time with God my best friend God never asked for anything but for us to live right and be holy because he is holy this is something to be celebrated always everyday everyday is our unbirthday one day out of the year is a day we were born on and we shouldn’t feel pressured or disappointed because someone didn’t get us a gift or acknowledge the fact that we are here another year and alive if anything we should spend our birthday alone with God because for sure its facts that you’ll feel value and loved in the arms of God i feel we should do something special for ourselves no one will ever love us like God can no one will ever love us like the self love we give ourselves truth be told people will always fail u people will not always be there for you people die there are no guarantees in life except the existence of God and his everlasting word anything else is temporary everything we see will one day no longer be  so i make it a point not to depend on external happiness internal happiness is the greatest gift we can give to ourselves  always do you stay true to yourself get rid of old habits that dont benefit your soul and be happy do what makes you happy there’s always room to learn more and to improve in certain areas in your life in all areas a friend once told me and it will forever stick with me and that is we aren’t perfect we are not all knowing we are forever learning and correcting things we are all a work in progress give to others keep yourself in alignment with the word of God by giving to others its like youre giving to God and it will be given back to you within the same measure you gave with so just be a happy cheerful giver give from you’re entire heart good things will happen just dont give and expect something back giving to receive doesn’t work like that...another thing  don’t wait for their birthday or a man made holiday to do things for people some might not even live to see another birthday this kinda follows the saying don’t wait till i’m dead to buy me flowers or wait till im gone to finally miss me invite someone to dinner just because why wait until thanksgiving to feast and be thankful around your loved ones thanksgiving a day where we are actually celebrating stealing the land from the people who were already here thats like allowing someone to move in with you you teach them how to grow food and make a living for themselves and then they rob you and kick you out of your own home and force you to pay them to live in the street and first and foremost last but most assuredley not least never allow the holidays to validate you your value doesnt depend on gifts u get or didnt get or the people around you i like small numbers i think God prefers small numbers too because quality is and always will be better than quantity id rather have 1 real friend than a thousand fake friends even if my only friend is myself i remember in elementary school they would give out secret candies on valentines day some student s would recieve like 30 gifts because either they were that much admired and popular or they bought themselves gifts and made it look like someone else did it for them to make themselves appear to be better but i wonder if fake love makes them feel better its kinda like today how they buy followers do me a favor be happy keep the fake stuff to the side seek to be happy internally so nothing or no one can take that from u people and material things are all external things theyre all temporary the things money cant buy the things we cant see are the more permanent things our bodies are also temporary but these souls of ours are gonna be with us a lot longer so make sure you take good care of it and of you real love is internal and eternal and its the best gift we can give to ourselves signed #EternallyYours #EternalLove