#disability money spent on helping another person's disability

[hashtag-xolo]

Vibrating with excitement

Tzapo is getting a windfall of new gear and I'm very !!!!!!!

[giantkillerjack]

Today my therapist introduced me to a concept surrounding disability that she called "hLep".

Which is when you - in this case, you are a disabled person - ask someone for help ("I can't drink almond milk so can you get me some whole milk?", or "Please call Donna and ask her to pick up the car for me."), and they say yes, and then they do something that is not what you asked for but is what they think you should have asked for ("I know you said you wanted whole, but I got you skim milk because it's better for you!", "I didn't want to ruin Donna's day by asking her that, so I spent your money on an expensive towing service!") And then if you get annoyed at them for ignoring what you actually asked for - and often it has already happened repeatedly - they get angry because they "were just helping you! You should be grateful!!"

And my therapist pointed out that this is not "help", it's "hLep".

Sure, it looks like help; it kind of sounds like help too; and if it was adjusted just a little bit, it could be help. But it's not help. It's hLep.

At its best, it is patronizing and makes a person feel unvalued and un-listened-to. Always, it reinforces the false idea that disabled people can't be trusted with our own care. And at its worst, it results in disabled people losing our freedom and control over our lives, and also being unable to actually access what we need to survive.

So please, when a disabled person asks you for help on something, don't be a hLeper, be a helper! In other words: they know better than you what they need, and the best way you can honor the trust they've put in you is to believe that!

Also, I want to be very clear that the "getting angry at a disabled person's attempts to point out harmful behavior" part of this makes the whole thing WAY worse. Like it'd be one thing if my roommate bought me some passive-aggressive skim milk, but then they heard what I had to say, and they apologized and did better in the future - our relationship could bounce back from that. But it is very much another thing to have a crying shouting match with someone who is furious at you for saying something they did was ableist. Like, Christ, Jessica, remind me to never ask for your support ever again! You make me feel like if I asked you to call 911, you'd order a pizza because you know I'll feel better once I eat something!!

Edit: crediting my therapist by name with her permission - this term was coined by Nahime Aguirre Mtanous!

Edit again: I made an optional follow-up to this post after seeing the responses. Might help somebody. CW for me frankly talking about how dangerous hLep really is.

[nicohverse]

Little Lion, Baby Bea...

(Art by @kiwifie !)

Who's curious about this sweetheart? This cute lion has been the topic of lots of discussion lately- For somebody with so little going on in her head, she sure is mysterious! And what little she does have going on in her head is wonderful- It's not a pejorative, the girl's genuinely been lobotomized. Luckily, it's not quite as bad as it sounds- She was pretty airheaded to begin with. The part of her brain she lost made it so she can't do magic to hide her animal features, and gave her a lot of cognitive difficulties.

"It's like... There's these things I know I knew how to do. And I don't know it at all anymore. I can't get it back. Even if I try to learn it again. It's scary... Like being trapped in a box, but the box has windows."

A girl who's new to adulthood and trying hard to assert her ability to be one in the face of her struggles, Bea might be cute and small, but she certainly won't tolerate being infantilized. She's living with a great caretaker who never underestimates or overestimates her ability- She's accommodated without being condescended to, and wants to reclaim sweetness and enthusiasm for herself while asserting her autonomy!

Some of Bea's struggles are pretty personal to me- About a year ago, I was still recovering from a lot. I'd only left an unsafe-for-me work environment a few months prior, hadn't yet hit a full year since 'recovering' from a covid infection that added to the workplace's exacerbation of my health conditions... I spent quite a while in an incredibly difficult cognitive space, actively fighting against brainfog...

Some stuff I haven't really talked about to anybody before- I could hardly make my brain remember anything I'd learned in college that hadn't been applied on the job since then. It was frightening and embarrassing to be without the information I spent so much time and money on. A lot of things I 'knew how to do' became muscle memory only- I could do them when I was doing them, but couldn't conceptualize how to do them if I sat down and thought about it. I'd find thoughts about things like solving a math problem would get stuck in my brain on loop without either progressing to the next step or going away. It was so difficult to deal with that I just about gave up on ever getting another job that utilized my mental skills without associating gross-motor movements.

But now, I'm better enough that I'm looking into getting more applicable credentials in my field, applying to data entry and medical record jobs again after recently losing my position as an art studio assistant. (Though worry not- All funds given to EF2 will be used for EF2) And better enough to be processing those feelings through Bea- A character who's incredibly precious to me. She's never going to 'get better' the same way I have- Instead, she's going to be a conduit for the idea that even if I hadn't recovered, I still would have found some kind of success. One of the many things Entropic Float is and always will be about is autonomy for the disabled community, to every possible degree that I have time in my life to portray.

If you want to help me portray that, and avoid reaching into my own recently-unemployed pockets to make Entropic Float 2 the best game it can be, the best property for Bea to find her joy in, consider supporting our stretch goals.

[hixystix]

Moving Assistance

So if you haven't read my other post on the matter, I'm a 36 year old on disability who currently lives in a house owned by my parents. I can't work at this time and I live on disability and food stamps - I get $667 a month to pay all my bills, including the big house bills like property tax and insurance.

A few weeks back, my parents told me they didn't approve of my housekeeping, accused me of hoarding and ruining the house because it's a bit cluttered, and said that they were going to sell the house and they wouldn't help me find somewhere to go unless I cleaned the house up before the sale.

Well, I took them at their word. They are incredible neat freaks (think vacuuming three times a day, hand cleaning floors at least once a day, not allowing ANYTHING to be out and visible) and there's no way I personally could manage to keep the house the way they want, so I found a new place to live - in Wisconsin, with my friend @archangelsanonymous.

Everyone who knows me has encouraged this move to get away from my parents. My therapist practically did a happy dance! My parents have been manipulative and controlling my entire life, and have actively worked to hobble me when I try to do stuff on my own. They've plainly stated their goal is to have control of all my finances and legal decisions because they don't approve of the way I budget my money.

When I told them about my decision, they laughed and told me I was stupid, tried to convince me they never threatened to sell the house, tried to paint this as me running away instead of just acceding to a reasonable request, tried to turn me against my friend, then started making up events that never happened to convince me I'm not thinking clearly and I should back out of the move.

I'm not going to back out. This will be good for me.

The plan is for me to move at the end of August 2022. I am taking the time before then to try and plan as much as possible.

I'll figure out a way to make this happen, one way or another, but it would be a hell of a lot easier if I had some help. I'm certainly not going to get any from home.

I will need movers for the furniture at either end, because I'm not physically capable of moving this stuff by myself. Depending on if my parents decide to take back my car or not, I'll need to rent a moving truck or pay for someone else to drive said truck. I will need to pay for gasoline to get from here (Alabama) to Wisconsin. If possible, I need to get my cats their shots before we move in with two other cats and so I'm ready to get them licenses in Wisconsin.

...and I'm probably forgetting something huge, but that's the brain fog caused by my meds for you. I'll update this post if I think of anything.

If you can help at all, even by reblogging this, it would be amazing. I have a few different methods of money transfer, so if you'd like to use something other than paypal, message me and I'll give you usernames.

If it works for you, however, I can be found here: http://paypal.me/hixystix.

Thank you for taking the time to read this and thank you even more for sharing it!

Update 9/26:

So it's been a while and shit happened to keep me from moving - dates that didn't work out, family illnesses, that sort of thing. I even lost $250 on deposits for a truck and movers, but ah well.

The new dates - checked and confirmed on both ends - are October 27-28. Pack up here and drive up on the 27th, unpack on the 28th.

This has been an ordeal, but it's going to happen. I'm going to get out. Any help is still appreciated, although I fully understand that you're probably tired of hearing about this!

As of now, I spent about $350 on vet bills to get my cats up to date on their shots. I spent $250 on those deposits I lost. I ended up owning about $100 more on utilities this month than I'd planned for and now I have an extra month to pay for as well.

The trailer I want to rent will cost about $230 for a one-way trip. Movers on this end are at about $80/+tip on the cheap end. Gas is... well, who knows what gas will be for both my SUV and my dad's truck towing the trailer. I'll also be in charge of food.

I'll make this work, one way or another. But it's nice to have a date to look forward to again and not feel like I'm gonna be stuck here forever.

[cowplant-pizza]

hey guys this is a huge personal rant about my irl so if u dont wanna read it just scroll!!

so as some of u will know i am disabled with fibromyalgia, hyper mobility and also depression and anxiety.

i started a small biz to try to help bring funds in as i cant work a proper job (i was even told by my dr that working was out of the option)

im feeling doubly, even tripley sorry for myself rn because not only do i have a disability, but i have it so bad that i can’t even do what most people with this disability can do (work part time or even full time in some cases)

my disability took away my dream from working with animals because its such a labour intensive job

i saw a silver lining in creating my small business because it was something i was really passionate about and was actually doing really well

in 2020-2021 i made £21k which is a reasonable salary for someone with no qualifications (i had to drop out of school due to my disability) and also a small business in their first year of existing

however since covid has “ended”, and lockdown was lifted, my sales have plummeted. the following year i only made £4k

this year i’m sure i’ve made even less

i cant keep up with my business because i’m way too stressed about money. stress makes fibromyalgia waaaay worse for those wondering

i cant sleep at night. i have awful insomnia. but when i do finally get to sleep, i cant wake up. i describe it as a sleep coma. its like sleep is literally pulling a blanket over my head and suffocating me back to sleep. i actively fight with my body every day for the ability to wake up

once i wake up i have minimum energy. this is spent doing small everyday tasks like watering my plants, playing with my dogs, putting away laundry, showering ect. once those tasks are done, i’m spent. i could sleep again. i have no energy or motivation to work on my business

but some days i dont even have the energy to do those small things

i just sort of “zombie mode” along all day. time goes quickly and slowly at the same time

i thought i’d been awake like 30mins earlier but it had been 5hrs and my dinner was ready

i’m basically always confused and not with it. earlier i put a tissue on the side and my mug in the bin (still with cold tea in it) instead of the other way around. i put soap in my hair and shampoo on my body puff

i dont know what to do

i have a drs appointment on 16th but that was booked over a month ago and its only over the phone. i rang today to try and book another one (because you can only discuss one issue at a time), and opted for the callback service (if your past 5th in the queue you press the callback and keep your spot). i was 8th. i never got a call back

i honestly just feel like the entire world is against me

im trying to get an adhd/autism diagnosis because i know something is “wrong” up there but i cant even get a regular appointment let alone a referral

i get no support from my government. no benefits. i scored a 0 on my PIP interview. im going to try for universal credit but someone recommended waiting for my adhd/autism diagnosis to really push them to give it to me but, as i said, i cant get an appointment

im making about 50-100 per month

i dont see anything bright in my future

if you read this far honestly your a gem. im sorry for burdening this on your shoulders. i just needed to write it down and get it off my chest

[motsimages]

A friend of mine gave me an article she wrote about her illness and it mentioned the caretakers around her. She mentioned her husband's coworkers who will cover for him when he goes to the hospital with her. And that's not what comes to mind when one thinks of "caretaker (of a disabled person)".

It made me think of the time I was being too much of a caretaker for everyone around me and decided that I had to take care of myself too. So I looked up "how to care for a caretaker" and it was disappointing. Most of the things I found were like "remember to do something you enjoy, try to find someone to cover for you for an hour or so so you can rest" and it's like... So somebody who is 24h caring for a family member should also be responsible for finding someone to give her some rest or to make time for her own enjoyment. Right. Sure. Nobody will take care of her and she has to take care of herself and someone else. Noted.

I also thought of that theory of sharing worries. It was something like "when someone has cancer, the worries around it have to go outwards: the patient will tell their partner, the partner will tell a friend, the friend will tell someone outside of this circle, etc." This way, the people more affected by the situation are not charged with the extra load of having to emotionally manage the worries of someone who is not going through it. The cancer patient doesn't have to console their friend about how they feel when seeing them in the hospital on top of dealing with the chemo effects, for instance. The friend will share those feelings outside of the patient's life while being available for the patient to complain about the hospitalisation.

In situations when the government fails to provide support for the sick person and their caretaker, it's up to them and the money they might or might not have to find a solution. People like to help but depending on the demands of the situation, it may be outside of what most people can do or are willing to do for love. If, for whatever the reason, the family lives isolated or far from other people, who cares for the caretaker? When do they get a break?

And sometimes, giving someone a break in these circumstances looks a lot like the co-workers covering your shift, the neighbours stopping by to see if you need groceries, or any other seemingly small task that will already reduce the things to do for the caretaker.

Notice how the worries go outwards but the help goes inwards. I let you know I'm tired because I spent the night up caring for my child, you or another acquaintance bring me a Tupperware with food so I don't have to cook today.

It is difficult sometimes to know how to care for a caretaker, particularly if they are caring for an elderly relative, a child or a disabled person with high needs. Where do you start? Well, just lending your ear to listen to their worries and complains, helping out with small everyday tasks related groceries, cooking or cleaning, covering the first hour in the mornings at work so they can sleep a bit longer...

It feels like the only useful help in some cases is actually giving free time from the caretaking by doing it ourselves. And that is certainly a huge help. You are a caretaker by directly taking care. But releasing from other duties, not creating extra layers of work already gives some rest. If the only hour I don't have to be checking on the person I care for I have to spend cooking for the day, there is no rest for me. However, if food had magically appeared, I can just lay down and rest, read a book or watch tv.

My friend's comment made me realise that there are many ways of caretaking and that it is actually a chain. When it breaks, then there is only one caretaker isolated from the world, responsible for her own well being. When it works, there are several caretakers and it is less lonely for both the person who needs care and for their direct caretaker. It takes a village.

[blindedbythedarkness]

The Undeniable Dystopia is Here.

Life is bad. Like shockingly, horrifyingly bad. Growing up really felt like living through a series of unfortunate events- I was certainly repeatedly traumatized. But I never had to fight for my life every single day. That's where we are right now, and yet 95% of people can't or won't acknowledge reality. Hell really is empty and all the devils are here.

We live in a cesspit of plague. That's the state of the entirity of the Western world. I didn't want it at the start because I knew I was more "vulnerable" to its effects. Now I'd avoid it with just as much effort even if I was the healthiest person on Earth. The vaccines didn't stop the death, they just made it slower so people wouldn't notice.

All around me the effects are obvious. Everyone is ill. "The worst colds ever" and "the first year they've ever had hayfever". Quality of life is plummeting. Life expectancy is plummeting. Workers shortages. The internet full of people begging society to change course but incapable of leaving their beds to plead in person. Babies born tiny and starved, the effects on their brains untold. Kids collecting autoimmune diseases like pokemon cards. More Strep. More RSV. Kid after kid with their limbs stripped to the bone to stop the bacteria killing the rest of them. Brain damage termed just "brain fog." Friends of friends dropping dead. Strokes galore.

But you only see it if you're willing to open your eyes.

I can't study safely. I can't sit my exams without risking another hit of the virus that has already left me more disabled. It's not safe to go to the shops. It's not safe to sit in my own garden without a mask. It's not safe to go to the hospital- I know for sure because that's where I caught it last time. Every possible step forward, every possible move, every single day, involves a level of risk I couldn't comprehend 4 years ago.

I don't have PTSD, because we are not 'post'. The trauma is still growing.

At uni, I sit there in full PPE. PPE I spent more money on than I can afford, as someone who lives on less than minimum wage. I look around the room for the seat with the best ventilation, the best chance of air flow. I'm not religious, but I pray. Because I cannot afford to become even more disabled and I cannot afford to disable the person I love most. And then in filter 200 people who no longer care who they hurt with what they spread. Most avoid me- an uncomfortable reminder of the ongoing horror. One decides to sit next to me, coughing, excitedly asking me if I will be joining them for post-exam drinks. Indoors. Unmasked. We live in parallel worlds and yet they cannot even acknowledge that much.

They jet off abroad. Go to clubs. Have a sniffle but visit gran anyway. I pay attention when watching shows set in other dystopias, taking note of how to clean and suture a wound at home if needed. We cannot risk the hospital. I grow vegetables as the online prices rise and we cannot risk a trip to the store. I'm reminding my family what's at stake and begging them to protect themselves because I can't lose anyone else. And I'm praying.

Once again, just like when I was a teen, I find my comfort in misunderstood monsters and outcasts. The lonely characters that the world hates, who break down in tears when shown an ounce of kindness. I get wrapped up in the fantasy of having a safe space where I can finally let my guard down just for a minute. Where I can finally feel seen and see a bearable future. And when I see their visible scars, I feel them too, and I struggle against the urge to make more of my own.

There's no one coming to help me though and no safety in sight. There is just endurance. Even what remains of the mental health service is useless- why would I explain my pain to someone likely happily spreading the very virus that has created this hell? And I can't ask for support from my uni- they've made their views clear that this is my "anxiety" and I'm merely "overly cautious".

But I caught it, so not cautious enough. And it damaged my already disabled body further, so not anxious enough.

The undeniable dystopia is here and there is no end in sight.

[pecanwriter]

Very Uncool Love Story (MPREG, WG story)

Themes: M/M MPREG romance between a fat librarian and a disabled punk musician

Words: 2863

Part: 1/?

Connected to this drawing, although we're a long way away from this happening!

Larry let out a groan, dropping his hands helplessly at his sides. He stared down at his protruding gut accusingly. No matter how often he attended the gym or watched what he ate, ever since he turned thirty-five his waistline seemed to be expanding simply from his existence alone. In the last two years since he crossed the thirty-five threshold, his so-called waist had positively turned into a pot belly. Okay, he had to be honest with himself, since Cyberpunk 2077 came out he neglected his gym attendance and it definitely contributed to the further expansion of his blubber. And so now, to his dismay, his good dress trousers didn’t fit anymore. He let out another groan, realising that he had no choice but to go to one of the places every self-proclaimed nerd hated more than anything; the shopping centre. The worst part was that since the birthday party for his brother-in-law was happening at six, he had no time to procrastinate.

Squirting some toothpaste onto his brush he looked at himself in the mirror and grimaced. The beard he attempted to grow in order to hide his slowly forming double chin was coming in more patchy than he would’ve liked, but on the bright side, he was surprised to discover there was still more ash blonde in his beard than grey, unlike the hair on his head. Larry was mildly annoyed that he was genetically cursed both with a pot belly and premature greyness. He started getting grey in his mid-twenties, which was the beginning of the end he did not anticipate in time to start dyeing his hair to cover it up. Now, after so many years, it would just look stupid. And so Larry didn’t have much choice but to embrace the image of a grey-haired, fat librarian. He supposed it could’ve been worse, although at that moment he struggled to think how.

“Okay, Marshall, you can do this,” Larry muttered to himself, staring into his own green eyes in the rearview mirror for a moment. Gathering as much strength as he could, he finally got out his car where it was parked in the shopping centre parking lot.

Why are there so many people in the shopping centres at all times? How is that possible? Larry flinched as someone barged past him, laughing on the phone obnoxiously loudly. One of the best aspects of working at the library was that it was always blessedly quiet. Not only that, he was allowed to actually shush people! And they couldn’t do anything about it! Another person shouldered past him, nearly knocking his glasses off his nose. Fixing them in place Larry dived towards the shopping centre map to find the cheapest clothing store possible; he wasn’t about to spend a fortune on something his fat ass would undoubtedly outgrow soon. Besides, the less money spent on clothes, the more money for him to invest in video games.

“Can I help you?” A shopping assistant asked with one of those smiles that could have been real or completely fake and there was no way to tell which.

“I’m looking for dress trousers,” Larry answered, instantly nervous under the scrutiny of the younger man.

“Let me see if we can find something in your size.” He said, and Larry involuntarily flinched.

After an ordeal longer than he would’ve liked Larry emerged from the shop exhausted, but with a new pair of trousers with a size tag he never expected to be searching for. That’s what ageing does to you, he guessed. Ageing and Cyberpunk 2077, he reminded himself sourly. He almost jumped out of his skin as buzzing in his pocket tore him out of his revelry.

“Yes?” “Larry, tell me you remember about Tom’s birthday party.” His sister said. “I remember!” “Don’t you lie to me, brother!”

“I’m not lying!” He sputtered “I even got a new outfit for the party.” “Wow, I’m impressed. Did you get a gift?” “Uh…” “Lawrence Marshall!” She groaned.

“I will get one!” “He was talking about one of those new heavy metal albums he wanted. I don’t remember which band it was… Slayer? Judas Priest? I really don’t remember, but it came out this month, go to the CD store and ask someone!” “Ask someone…? A CD…? Arianna, wait…!” He let out a sigh as the phone indicated the call was ended by the caller.

Once again, feeling even more defeated than he did when he first came into the shopping centre, he went to look for the map to find a CD store in this monstrosity.

Larry took in a deep breath as he stared at the black sign that read “Music Emporium” in an aggressively pointy font and with burning wings on each side of it. That was a bit of an overkill, wasn’t it? Wings and fire? Couldn’t it just be one or the other? Taking a deep breath Larry entered the store.

There was some classic rock playing inside, but thankfully it wasn’t too loud. The shop was rather dim, in fact, it was positively dark and Larry wondered how anyone could see what they were buying. There was nobody inside and Larry was very thankful because never before had he been so painfully aware of being, and looking, like a librarian.

When he meant the shop was empty, he didn’t only mean customers, there was literally no one there. He assumed the shop clerk was somewhere around, maybe restocking something, or maybe they were in the back. But he wasn’t about to call out, God no. He wandered around nervously and when he spotted a sign shouting “NEW RELEASES” in big orange letters he almost flew to it, hoping he would be able to find the CD on his own and buy it without ever revealing to the shop clerk how out of his depth he actually was. He looked at the rows of different CDs and felt immediately lost. How was he supposed to find a CD without knowing anything about it other than the release month? When people asked him for books they didn’t remember the titles of he had so many ways to narrow the search down. Keywords, genre, plot, similar books… How did you search for a CD? He guessed you could sing something from it, but if it was a completely new one then you wouldn’t even know any songs from it, would you? “Why didn’t you call for me?” An unfamiliar voice with a heavy Scottish accent accused and Larry was startled enough to drop the CD he was holding. “Great, that’s amazing.” The man spat, placing something against one of the shelves to go down to the floor. Larry realised it was a crutch. “No, no, I got it!” Larry frantically dropped to the floor, picking up the CD. “You’re…” He started, but the man cut him off. “What? A cripple? Yeah, man, cripples can be music experts too, crazy, huh?” “No, I wanted to say that you’re the shop clerk,” He awkwardly held the CD out to the man “Here, it’s not broken.” “Hm.” The man humphed, taking the CD from him and bringing it closer to his right eye to examine it. That was an unusual thing to do, but Larry immediately recognized the movement. The man either had limited vision or could only see out of one eye. Larry stopped to look at the man as he examined the CD. He was younger than him, maybe late twenties, maybe younger. He was very very light-skinned, almost translucent and his hair was pure white too, shaved on the sides and the short part in the middle was brushed back on gel or something similar. The effect was slightly messy, but Larry was sure it was a very carefully curated look. His ears were gleaming with a multitude of piercings and he was wearing make-up, namely black coal around his eyes and dark, shiny lipstick… Larry couldn’t help but keep examining this man, finding the complicated outfit somewhat fascinating and, once again, vaguely reminiscent of Cyberpunk 2077. He had a necklace with a guitar pick woven into it and was wearing a ragged black tank top that was incredibly snug, showing off a large portion of his abdomen. A very, very flat abdomen, Larry couldn’t help but notice. The man was very slim, positively skinny. His hip bones were sticking out where the denim rested on them and he could see a tattoo peeking out on the side. It wasn’t the only one, in fact, both of his arms were covered and one of the tattoos was expanding to his chest, disappearing under the tank top. Even for an omega, he was extraordinarily handsome. A little sharp around the edges, perhaps, but gorgeous.

“It doesn’t seem broken, lucky you.” The man said in his clear voice, placing the CD down in its place perfectly. “So what do you need?” “I… I’m not sure.” “Browsing then?” “Not exactly, I…” “Yeah?” “I’m looking for a gift, I don’t really know a lot about heavy metal…” “Oh boy.” The man rolled his eyes and Larry was almost sure the left one didn’t roll exactly along the same trajectory as the right. “I’m sorry, it’s for my brother-in-law and…” “Fine, fine, whatever. So do you know the band?” “Not exactly…” “What does that mean?” The man cocked an eyebrow. He was very, very attractive, Larry’s unhelpful mind provided, and he had to resist the urge to facepalm.

“It’s either… Slayer or Judas Priest.” Larry soldiered on despite the man’s lips pursing “It came out this month!” The incredibly attractive shop clerk sighed and then reached for a CD, planting it in Larry’s chest. Larry was unsure if he was planning to do that or if he wanted to hand it to him but misjudged the distance between them.

“Here, Slayer. Judas Priest doesn’t have any new albums.”

“T-thank you.” he managed to say, uncomfortably aware that this very attractive, very skinny and very cool man just accidentally touched his flabby, uncool, librarian chest.

"Let me ring you up then. Unless you wanted something else…?"

"Oh no, nothing else!" Larry said urgently and the man laughed a ringing, beautiful laugh.

Larry blushed violently. What was wrong with him? Feeling his face burning, Larry followed the cleck to the till, observing the man’s careful gait as he leaned heavily on his crutch, but in a practised manner that suggested it was either a long-term or a permanent injury.

"Thank you for your business." The man said and with a slight smirk he added "We hope you will visit Music Emporium again soon!"

"I will." He said reflexively, flinching at the obvious lie and hoping the darkness of the shop concealed his blush.

The man laughed his beautiful ringing laugh again and Larry felt like he still heard it even after driving away to face the birthday party.

*

"Hey, little brother." Arianna wrapped her arms around his neck and then backed away slightly to touch his face. Her face was bright with a smile and her eyes gleamed with it. Unlike the shop clerk's, both of Arianna's unseeing eyes moved completely normally. Larry frowned. Why was he thinking about that omega again? “When will you shave this ridiculous beard?” Arianna asked, frowning.

“I’m not! I like it!” He lied, trying to disentangle himself from his sister’s arms. “Hey, uncle!” Jonas ran into him, jumping excitedly. “Hello, nephew!” He ruffled the boy’s hair. “Here.” He pulled out a library book, handing it to the boy who “ooh”-ed excitedly. “Dinosaurs? I’m gonna go read it!” He said, already running off “Thanks, uncle!” “Miriam, say hello to your uncle!” Arianna hissed at her daughter, who was just passing through the hall, her 17-year-old angst on full display in her band T-shirt, ragged jeans and messy hair covering half of her face.

“Hey uncle.” she deadpanned, not even looking up. “God, give me strength,” Arianna muttered. “Okay, I have to finish some stuff in the kitchen, go join the party!” Larry did so, like the obedient younger brother he was.

“You have got to be kidding me, Samuel! Over my dead fucking body! You are a child!” Tom shouted at his oldest son as Larry’s mother and Tom's parents sat uncomfortably in their seats. Sam’s boyfriend Aarul was holding his hand tightly, but flinching at every word Tom shouted at his son. Tom’s sister Moira and her husband Mark kept whispering to each other. From what Larry knew about them he assumed Mark was trying to keep Moira from interrupting.

“I’m not a child, I’m 23 years old, father!” Sam protested “I’m graduating this year, I will get a full-time job then and…” “You’re too young for this!” “Tom!” Moira finally managed to get out from under Mark’s calming spell. “You’re wife is 46 years old. According to, you know, the undeniable logic of math, she gave birth to this here child when she was 23.” “I don’t care, it was a different time!” “Stop shouting, let him live his life, he’s a smart boy.” Tom’s father, Jon, said, waving a hand at him. “What’s happening here?” Larry asked and everyone’s head snapped to look at him. “Larry!” They all exclaimed in a greeting. “You’re nephew is getting married!” Moira exclaimed. “Oh yeah? That’s great, Sam. Aarul.” Larry smiled, squeezing both of the boy’s shoulders and then taking a seat.

“No, Larry, it’s not GREAT.” Tom, the birthday boy, hissed, his thin narrow face twisted in anger. “He’s too young!” “And Aarul is pregnant.” Moira added in a theatrical whisper, which set the table to shouting again as Larry flinched, glad the attention was once again redirected from him. He looked at Sam. He, unfortunately, took a lot after the Marshall side of the family; ash blonde hair, very average-looking face, which couldn’t be called handsome even when he had youth working for him. He was slim and muscular, but from experience, Larry knew that was not going to last forever either. Sam gave him a small smile when he caught his eye. Larry looked at Aarul in turn; he was petite, with dark hair and skin of a South Indian, his thick black hair curled framing his heart-shaped face. He looked at Larry shyly with his big, brown eyes and smiled gently after lowering his eyes to the table again. Aarul was a lovely boy, he made Sam happy and Larry knew him to be hard-working and considerate. Sam was responsible and determined and never tried to hide the fact he thought of Aarul as his one and only. Larry truly didn’t see a problem, they were old enough to make decisions like this and as Moira already pointed out - Arianna and Tom had children and married even earlier than these two.

“Stop it this instant!” Arianna called from the door, holding the cake in front of her as Miriam trailed after her, making sure her blind mother didn’t trip with the cake but also at the same time somehow still managing to text. “Leave the boys alone.” “Arianna…” Tom growled, but his wife totted. “No, stop it, I said. This is a birthday party and there will be no more arguing.” She proclaimed and everyone dutifully kept their mouths shut.

“Good cake.” Mark observed as they were all eating, still in silence that was almost as thick as the cream on the cake. “Who wants more, this cake needs to be gone today, or it will get soggy!” Arianna announced, cutting the rest of the cake up with deliberate, learned motions that once again reminded Larry of the music shop clerk. “So, any takers? Moira? Larry?” “Don’t feed him cake, he’s fat enough!” his mother snapped. “You gained weight again, Larry.” she accused. “Mum, leave him alone!” Arianna hissed. “You’re no better, lady.” his mother snapped, looking critically at Arianna’s ample hips.

“Can we all just stop insulting each other for five minutes?” Tom’s father hissed. “Some of us would like to ENJOY spending time with our family.” “Let’s open gifts!” Jonas said, bouncing in his seat, completely oblivious to the tense atmosphere around him. “Dad, open your gifts!”

With his face still twisted in a vague image of displeasure, Tom obliged, reaching for the small pile of gifts. “Thanks, Dad,” Tom said, raising the bottle of whiskey in acknowledgement as his father nodded. “Fishbait? Because…?” Tom looked at his sister. “Because old men love to fish.” The woman proclaimed with a serious face and then burst out laughing. “Great. Thanks.” Tom rolled his eyes, putting the fish bait waiting and reaching for Larry’s gift. “A Slayer CD…” Tom pursed his lips. “Oh no, it’s the wrong CD,” Larry said feeling the blush blooming on his face again and praying the beard covered it. “No, it’s a good CD!” Tom rushed to explain “Only… I already own this.” He grimaced. So did Larry. “Dang. I’m sorry, I will exchange it for something else.” “Thanks, Larry.” “No problem..” Larry murmured, surprised to realise he was actually excited to go back to that music store. What the hell was wrong with him?

[mcalhenwrites]

Personal update, because... I don't know how things are going to go. I don't know when I'll update things. I don't know when I'll sleep properly and get any writing done. This hit when I was having a bit of a lapse in mental health, and I was discouraged about writing (but trying to keep myself from being pulled under!). I spent about 30 minutes pacing around my bathroom since it's further inside the building, trying to figure out if we were in the path of another tornado while the sirens blared. We were not. My town didn't get hit this time, like it did two weeks ago. Anyway. Two hours later, I'm face to face with a bed bug for the first time, and that fucked me up.

I broke down crying in a panic when I realized what it was and what it might meant for us. We're still searching through belongings because guess how much stuff we own? A LOT! (Someone advised me to go through each of my hundreds of books, page by page, to look for any hidden in them. I'm going to die.) But so far, it has only been the one. I haven't been mentally well. We're not rich over here, money is tight for my roommate and they're paying for all the bills. I just try to keep the place moderately clean, cook a few meals, and write my stories and hope they might sell a bit so I can make a little money to help out. I have been job searching and put in an application to one job that would've worked well for my disabilities, but I didn't get the job. I'm still waiting another month until my appointment to see a specialist about one of my severe health issues. One that can be treated and dealt with! But it's pretty bad! Things have been awful. Like seriously, I cannot catch a break. I don't know how to find the spoons I barely have to do all the work that needs done. I wanted to make progress on Seasons - and I still will, but I don't know how much this will slow that down - and I plan to finish up all those short stories for Geckos so I can publish them together. Geckos isn't really selling, but I am grateful it has sold a few copies. The apartment manager is aware of our situation. My library books are in gallon ziplocs to return in person Thursday and notify them that they might want to treat them or hold them back until they're certain they're safe for circulation again. Can't hurt. I just don't want anyone else to deal with this. I vacuumed this morning but I'm so sore and I can't sleep... tomorrow we are going to buy some things to help deal with this, like storage containers and bags and covers and whatnot. Seeing a lot of people mention steamers. I don't know how to live with this. Scabies during the beginning of covid was bad enough. Scabies being immediately followed by a fucking brown recluse bite that got badly infected and required me seeing a surgeon REALLY fucking sucked. Brown recluse infestatinos are awful! We left our shit apartment and broke lease to move here. It was decently good. Not the perfect place, but y'know. So seeing a bed bug in a building that's only about 2 years old... I worry we have neighbors who are dealing with it and won't say anything. It's a concern. I really don't want to live like this. The problem is I don't want to live at all now, because nothing ever lets up. My roommate is worried about me, so I have agreed this week to do some calling around for psychological help, but I am afraid to go to urgent care and pass along little fucking hell creatures. I'm afraid I might GET MORE OF THEM. Also, the one time I was in a psychiatric hospital was so bad, I had nightmares consistently about having to go back to one for over a year. I still get them sometimes. But I'm feeling suicidal in a "I can't deal with bed bugs" kind of way. I need help. I don't know how to get it. I'm mad that there are millions of other people in this same state. Why is our fucking country so into weapons and selling them to countries that blow up innocent people and starve them to death, so into guns it's appalling, but like... developing new antibiotics and housing people and looking for ways to take care of bed bugs? Nah. Why do that? Fuck the little people I guess.

[nicohverse]

Entropic Float's One Year Anniversary!

One year ago today- On July 7th, 2022- I released the 300k+ word long visual novel Entropic Float: This World Will Decay and Disappear, at no cost on itch and steam.

(Madeline by @unluckyerror404 on Artfight)

It was a labor of love- I worked on it for just over a year and a half, and my life changed a lot during that time. I got a job related to my degree, then proceeded to crash and burn when it turned out that I couldn't actually manage that job alongside my chronic conditions. Working on Entropic Float was the only thing during that time that really made me happy at all, so it's no surprise I ended up quitting for my health shortly after release...

Since I released Entropic Float, lots of things have happened. I've seen it referred to on reddit as 'the queerest game I've ever played'. I've received wonderful fanart. People have come to me saying that the game helped them realize they were physically disabled. My good friend, the vtuber FreyaFukunaga, played through the entire game on stream. There have of course been bad reviews too, negative feedback- No game can be for everyone, and Entropic Float is a game for some rather specific people. I've taken into account critiques made in good faith, and made efforts to improve these things where possible in updates to the game, and even moreso in the way they will be structured in Entropic Float 2: Land Of The Witch.

But before we talk about Entropic Float 2, which I'm sure you've all been waiting for information on, let me put some concerns to rest. I have, by no means, been doing nothing all this time. EF2 is coming along, though not in ways that are easy to share. Still, have a look-

Admittedly, it's a bit ugly without all the extra buttons, text, and more that will accompany this frame- It's just one small piece of the GUI I've been building. Entropic Float 2 is a big shift in style from the first game- For one, I'm no longer using Koikatsu for talksprites or environments. For another, it's going to be a point and click adventure game (Though the final release will include a 'kinetic novel version' option for those who prefer to play VNs on auto-advance!). You can see it, right? The menu buttons along the right edge, an inventory with tabs you can cycle in the bottom right corner, some information about the current state of the game in the empty space on the left...However, besides EF2, there have been other things I'm working on, and I'll admit to having some trouble finding a good workflow. During EF's development, it was simple enough- In my free time, I did those things which made me money (commissions, convention prep) and when those were done I worked on Entropic Float and did very little else. This workflow can no longer apply, because in the interim year, I've been building my small business, Nico's Fan Niche, on etsy. There are some pieces of Entropic Float merch available there! But the point is, now it seems there is always 'something to do which can make me money', as designing new products has a direct impact on my life now.

Besides the store, I'm also involved in other gamedev projects- I continue to be support staff on Heart Fragment, and am the primary artist of an RPG with a few friends of mine, yet to be formally announced. To top it all off, I do still have a day job. I work 30 hours a week (sometimes up to 39) with a studio called Small Victories. It's a wonderful and fulfilling position that gives me the space I need for personal projects, but that's still 30+ hours of the week not spent on those projects.

(Sharma by Quartoch on Artfight)

Finally- Entropic Float 2 is a loftier game than Entropic Float was. When I started EF, it was just for fun, to play with ren'py, and was never supposed to be as long as it ended up being. EF2 is a followup game. It needs to be bigger, better, and the pressure is on. For this reason, I decided to postpone making the game's art until after July- After Artfight 2023. My username there is nhitori if you want an attack from me! Each year, Artfight represents a huge burst of improvement for me and my artistic abilities. A talksprite drawn in June and a talksprite drawn in August would by nature be very obviously different in quality. I've been writing, outlining, working on GUI, but there hasn't been anything worth sharing on here yet.

Even so, I am very happy to announce- You should be able to expect the Entropic Float 2 Demo, and its Kickstarter, in November 2023!

Enter the Pine Creek Anomaly to discover exactly what happened in the small, Appalachian town several years ago- And why, so suddenly, the Anomaly started to invite outsiders in, after flying under the radar all this time. Kanatsune Ame returns to be guided by the player as he searches for the answers within a new cast of characters; Some familiar faces, some made more familiar after a mention in the Anomalous Clocktower, and some he's never met before at all.

And following shortly after the EF2 Demo and Kickstarter- There's one backer reward that will be fulfilled right away. Releasing in December 2023, right away for backers, just in time for the holidays if you just want to purchase it on its own (For only 5 USD- But if you played Entropic Float because it was free, and you really can't spare the money for any reason, do reach out to me.)

">It's been such a long time... But I've finally found You." (Box by Vanitasium on Artfight)

Quite a while after the stabilization of the Anomalous Clocktower, but not yet when you join Ame in the Pine Creek Anomaly- A voice calls out to you. A voice that is familiar, the voice which spoke directly to you throughout the first game. Informing you of the endings you've acquired. Warning you of what's ahead. Asking if you'd like to bring about the miracle. You never would have imagined that voice belonged to somebody. But it seems... She's gathered a new collection of stories for you. Fragments of those you've met before. Histories you couldn't see at the time, updates from the year since you left them behind. If you can read these stories and become more powerful again, like you did in the Clocktower, then maybe, just maybe... You and Her can meet face to face.

The Letters To A Beloved Ghost DLC for the first game will be arriving in December 2023! Along with the DLC, you'll also be able to install the 'Anachrono Mode' for Entropic Float. This mode replaces koikatsu talksprites with drawn talksprites in any cases where those have been added for DLC content. As the characters may be dressed in different clothing in these talksprites, and there may not be exact analogues for every expression, and the environments will remain koikatsu-style in most if not all places- It promises to be a bit anachronistic. But if the talksprites exist, may as well give you the option to use them!

One last thing- I'll be tabling in the Artist's Colony at Connecticon 2023, though I haven't got a table number yet. I also may be tabling at FANEXPO Boston 2023 (Unconfirmed), and Otakuthon 2023 (Waitlisted, but I'll still be attending as a guest if I don't get a table.) So if any fans reading this wanted to come say hello- There's a few opportunities. I might even have something for you, if you come by my table.

With that, the anniversary update is finished. That's all I've got for you right now- But there's a lot to look forward to! Thank you, as always, for reading, for playing, for being here with me on my gamedev journey.

[kalihaze604]

Wednesday, January 17th, 2024

rest and digest

My nervous system is finally healing! This is something major to celebrate because I’ve spent most of my life in an anxious state of fight/flight/freeze/fawn as a result of a lifetime of narcissistic abuse that started with my manipulative and controlling parents. Early childhood is the root of everyone’s problems, and most folks don’t even want to acknowledge that their childhood wasn’t as pretty as they romanticized it to be to avoid processing the painful parts that got bottled up and left to rot and deal with later. Even my own father said “well most peoples childhood isn’t perfect” but was completely unwilling to have any sort of self awareness or accountability for his actions and how his trauma was intergenerational and yes that he does in fact have trauma that was ever addressed and narcissistic personality disorder as a result. My parents will never accept the consequences for their actions yet my mom made sure to constantly yell at me and drill into my head that I always needed to think about “what happens next” yet it’s clear this is just “do as I Say -not as I Do”! It’s pointless to expect my parents to ever heal or apologize for how much harm they caused. Growing up with two narcs made me normalize abuse and view abuse as love, setting me up for a series of failed traumatic abusive relationships mostly with narcissists. Abuse was all I knew and I just wanted a happy ending to my trauma cycle but repeating it was not bringing anything more than more pain and abuse. Then my pain got so bad I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia, and my pain worsened as my symptoms diversified. Western medicine was literally useless in terms of providing anything other than inadequately low doses of opiate pain meds but I later realized that my own doctor was another person with narcissistic personality disorder and that was significantly impacting my care. She never took my pain seriously and gave me breadcrumbs of care while getting paid huge amounts of money by the government and disability system from neglecting, abusing and often abandoning me to die when she didn’t have answers. Asking an abuser to help heal an Illness caused by abuse is insane, I realized. This doctor’s last name literally rhymes with Evil and the first time I saw her, I thought the nurse said “you’ll be seeing Dr Evil tonight!” Which I thought was hilarious at the time but it was likely just my intuition trying to scream and tell me to run away from this bitch before things got worse. I was always doing sex work to pay for medical cannabis because she was always underprescribing me so I had to pay extra to actually manage my pain and be able to function. I stopped speaking to my doctor in May when I was crying uncontrollably while I begged for another prescription increase and she refused. I stopped seeing her and started buying a small amount of low dose diverted pills to be able to adequately manage my pain this summer. There’s a whole community that is being neglected by their doctors and underprescribed meds, so they sell or trade their low dose meds for higher dose unregulated products or cash to be able to manage their pain and function. A whole community of folks that were failed by western medicine and are now “self medicating” or whatever label gets slapped on these folks who are already super criminalized.

In December, after a breakup with yet another Narc that had caused extreme fibromyalgia flare ups by either fucking me into a flare up or emotionally neglecting me to the point I react by shutting down and going into a freeze state. My body was fucking tired. My back was covered in burns from my heating pad and a wicked hyperpigmentation skin rash. Some dude once catcalled me with “ I LOVE your scars!” Like bro there’s nothing cool about these unique markings, you can get them too if you can commit to spending 12+ hours per day glued to a heating pad for a year and a half straight! Anyways I’m sure they’ll fade once I stop using my heating pad and commit to putting thc/cbd transdermal cream on my back regularly to heal and nourish the sensitive angry skin.  

Since deleting social media I’ve been spending way less time rotting in bed glued to my heating pad. I have honestly surprised myself with how much I have accomplished in the last couple days. Since getting out of that relationship and going no contact with my abusive bio family, I feel like my nervous system has majorly calmed the fuck down for the most part. I’ve lost so much weight unintentionally over the past month and a lot has been in the “cortisol belly” area that’s known as a fat storage site when you have high cortisol levels caused by extreme stress and nervous system deregulation. I had boxes of extra small clothes sitting in storage since 2018, and now they all fit me again! Size totally depends on the cut and on the brand but I’m fitting into size 0/xxs clothes now and that’s what I consider a normal size for me? Five fucking years is what it took to get my body back after losing all human rights and control over my body thanks to extended leave, being forced to take mood stabilizers I didn’t need that caused extreme weight gain and the useless mental health system. I’ve been getting so much done lately but I’ve also been resting a lot and having such good sleep and naps now. In the fall I struggled to sleep because I was so stressed and miserable and couldn’t stop thinking, couldn’t relax and rest, there was too much on my mind. It feels so Damn good to be so relaxed. It feels so good to look in the mirror and see myself again and actually feel completely content and confident in my body.

[youllallriseintheink]

The Infiltrator, prologue

N sat across from the prison cell, hands folded in his lap as he stared at an equally bored man behind bars. It was the man he’d once considered a father. Three minutes, and his monthly visit would be over.

Just as it was beginning to as though it would be another meeting spent in silence, Ghetsis spoke up. “Why do you bother with this?” he asked. “I would rather rot in this cell than take your offer.”

“I could protect you,” N offered.

Ghetsis scoffed. “Do you plan on staying by my side at all times? Checking my food for poison? No. You’d have me attended day and night by someone who loves you and despises me. You are their king and I was your torturer. You don’t know enough about the world to protect anyone, boy. So I ask you again: why the meetings? There will never be trust between us. This is a waste of our time.”

N sighed. “It… it just wouldn’t feel right not giving you a chance to have a life. You’re a monster. You stunted me. You tried to hurt everyone in the region. I understand all of that, but... when I was a child and didn’t know what I was missing, you were the person who played with me, and took me to the woods, and taught me pretty much all I knew. It’s hard to just let that go. I want to believe there’s something decent in you, or that there could be. You’re right that I can’t trust you, and I don’t plan on giving you money or freedom, but…”

Ghetsis rolled his eyes at the same offer he’d heard every month for a year now.

“…You could live as my guest instead of my prisoner. I don’t understand why you won’t take that.”

“I just told you why,” Ghetsis replied.

The two sat in silence until the clock read that half an hour had passed.

N got up. “Goodbye, Ghetsis. I’ll see you next month.”

With narrow stone walls and dim lighting, the dungeon of N’s castle resembled a six-cell medieval prison. Unova’s law enforcement would surely give Ghetsis a better quality of life, but N knew that after all his crimes, chances were that if N handed Ghetsis in to them, Ghetsis would never see the outside world again. It wasn’t an option he was willing to submit to just yet. N was happy to ascend to the castle’s more inviting main floor and try to forget about his father.

A lot had happened since Ghetsis’ defeat. Thankfully, enough members of the original Team Plasma had been loyal to N after Ghetsis’ defeat and were now the castle’s staff. One of the more experienced, dominant staff members (N didn’t really like calling them “grunts”) had helped N to make it into a place thar people could bring Pokemon who were too disabled to live in the wild or to be of use in battle. And thank goodness for that staff member. After Ghetsis’ defeat, N hadn’t known what he wanted to do aside from a vague idea of becoming a link between humans and Pokémon. He also didn’t know how to use a credit card, or apply for a job, or practically anything that Ghetsis hadn’t allowed him to know.

But it was okay. He was learning with the help of his staff. He had his sisters, Pokemon to look after, staff to handle the people-intensive tasks, a beautiful home far from civilization, and the freedom to go where he wanted, even if “where he wanted” meant peaceful wild areas and a self-imposed weekly visit to the cities to help him get accustomed to people.

Anthea ran up to N, holding a vulpix in her arms. “Hey, N. This little one just came in. She’s- Oh, right. It’s that time of month again, isn’t it? I’ll give you some time to cool down.”

“It’s okay. I can handle it,” N replied. He took the vulpix and held it in front of him. “And what brings you here today?” he asked her. The vulpix barked and squealed in response.

“Your joints stopped working as as well, so your trainer left you in a ditch? It was too steep for you to get out, so you were stuck there until a man took you here? That’s terrible. I’m sorry that your trainer did that to you. You don’t look very old. Are you?”

The vulpix shook its head.

“Hm. Maybe the joint problem is from a disease. Well, whatever it is, you’re going to be okay. Maybe you can still live in the wild and hunt with your fire. We could teach you a move like rock climb so you don’t end up in situations like the one your trainer left you in. And if that doesn’t work, you could stay with us. Let me walk you to where you’ll be staying.”

N put the creature down and began to lead her out to the castle’s garden, Anthea following along. Sure enough, she was walking very slowly and stiffly, but she didn’t seem to be in pain.

Thankfully, there wasn’t anyone in the waiting room that day- no motion at all except for the television. N caught the words “reformed villains” in the subtitles, and that got him to stop and watch.

The program was an interview of some sort from Alola. The interviewee was a pudgy, stylishly-dressed man with green eyes and black, undercut hair. According to the subtitles, the man’s name was “Iris.”

It sounds like the reformed Rainbow Rocket is nothing short of a miracle, the subtitles displayed as the interviewer’s mouth moved.

Iris chuckled modestly. I wouldn’t say that. It seemed they all regretted their actions and had no place to go after their attempted takeover of Aether Paradise, so after their leader ran off, I decided to take charge and give them a different direction. Some of them took more convincing than others, but no one truly wants to be evil. It just takes the right touch.

“Anthea, can you get Vulpix settled?” N asked, still transfixed by the screen.

“Sure,” Anthea answered, and N took off.

The second N was in his room, N was writing. He’d worry about finding the address later.

Hello, Iris,

This is N. I saw your interview about the reformed Rainbow Rocket. I could use some advice. You see, my dad is a villain. His name is Ghetsis- you’ve probably heard about him on the news. I defeated him a year ago. I want to

N stopped before he finished the sentence. The truth was, N didn’t know what he ideally wanted with Ghetsis. He erased the sentence fragment.

I don’t want to have him locked up for the rest of his life. Is there anything you can tell me about how to get through to him? It seems like you have a magic touch.

Thanks.

With the help of one his staff members, N sent the letter, and he recieved one in response that very night.

N,

You need to come Alola as soon as possible. Team Rainbow Rocket is not reformed. I don’t have any power- my only job is to convince people that I do. Giovanni, the leader of Team Rocket and founder of Team Rainbow Rocket, broke me out of prison and helped me to change my name on the agreement that I would pull the wool over everyone’s eyes and act as their figurehead. I don’t even know what their end goal is, and I regret my cowardice.

I’ve heard whispers that Team Rainbow Rocket is planning an invasion of Unova. You run what was once a very powerful organization, and I want to give you all the knowledge I can provide so that you can fight against it. Giovanni is away on vacation for the next four days. I have included the coordinates to our location on the back of this letter. Come here and I will help you to infiltrate Team Rainbow Rocket for information.

Best regards,

Iris.

[smolgayartnerd]

Things are,, hard. Right now. This entire week has had me crying a lot because my poor bby cat is sick. She has trouble eating. She has spent the past few days in the hospital and when she gets out she will need a long-term prescription diet because she was just diagnosed with IBD (Inflammatory Bowel Disease).

They were supposed to discharge her today and I was really excited to take her home. Unfortunately when they took her off her appetite stimulants (she was having gastritis all week) she wasn't eating as much as they were hoping. They said they can either give her steroids or do a surgical biopsy to check for things like viruses or cancer. I can't afford the surgery so I opted for stimulants, and I'm kinda banking on them working. I don't want to think about what I might have to do if they don't work.

I'm currently unemployed and am relying on family money/trust. I am very privileged to have gotten this far thanks to those things. Most people don't get that with their pets. That said, my/the family's money is not limitless so I don't think I can do anything if these steroids don't work.

What really upsets me most aside from the possibility of losing my cat who is honestly like a child to me, is that my aunt (who manages mine and my mother's trust funds since we are both disabled) kinda implied that she doesn't want me getting another cat regardless of whether or not my current cat is okay. I live alone. Because I'm autistic I have had a lot of trouble dealing with my own habits and having roommates. That said, like most people I do get lonely on some level and having a cat has really helped me fill that void for the most part.

I'm not asking anyone for anything. Again, I recognize my own privilege to have been able to get this far in treating my baby. Last night I saw a post of someone asking for help to afford the $60 to collect their cat's ashes because she got sick and died so suddenly. I didn't exactly know whether or not that post was being legit. I know the "sick cat" thing is a common Tumblr scam. I am not going to accuse that person of anything, but I also had no way of really knowing how legit they are. If this is for real though, I hope I can find them again and maybe give them a little bit because I know how difficult this all is. I feel lucky to have noticed my baby's declining health as soon as I did.

I kinda just wanted somewhere to vent/cry about all this. I want the week to be over.

[hsenvs3000w23]

Privilege in Nature Interpretation : Blog 3

My working definition of privilege is an advantage that is given to a certain group. This definition applies to nature interpretation because privilege often gives a group an upper hand at overcoming barriers. The absence of privilege can make it harder for people to enjoy nature interpretation or create more barriers for those that have no privileges. After some more research I found that privilege can be a combination of five things… It is a special advantage, it is granted not earned, it is an entitlement related to status, it is exercised for its benefit and excludes others, and privilege is a status that the person possessing it is not aware of (Black & Stone, 2005).

Before this unit I never considered the role privilege plays in nature interpretation. However, after reading the course content and reflecting on my past I discovered privilege has a strong impact on nature interpretation. To start off this post I want to reflect on the role privilege has played in my past regarding nature interpretation.  My interest in nature has been present since I was a child. I spent my entire life growing up at my cottage, which I recognize is a huge privilege already. Having the opportunity to spend time outdoors with my family in such a beautiful location is not something that everyone gets to experience. I think this is like camping with my family. My parents had to put in their time and effort into taking me on outdoor trips as a kid. They spent their time and money on enforcing time spent in nature on several occasions. I recognize that there is a lot of children that did not get to experience this.  

Another privilege I recognize I have is being in university and taking classes that allow me to further my future in nature interpretation. My parents have helped me mentally and financially get to where I am today. University is an expense that I would not be able to afford if my parents didn’t help me prepare for. My savings are all thanks to past summer jobs that I could not have gotten without some help from my parents. For example, in high school I worked at Canadian Tire and my parents had to drive me to and from my shifts. In more recent jobs, my parents have helped me prepare for interviews.  I am aware a lot of students don’t have as much help from their parents that I do, and this gives me an advantage. The fact that I am in my final year of university, taking this specific course in nature interpretation is a massive advantage that so many people do not have. I am sure there are several people who want to work in a career in nature interpretation but unfortunately face a disadvantage in the work force because they did not attend university.

Lastly, I think a privilege that relates to nature interpretation is the fact that I am young and healthy. I am completely capable of participating in nature programs if I want to. A reason why some people cannot participate in nature interpretation programs could be that they want to participate, but encounter boundaries like physical impediments, such as people with physical disabilities or even the elderly population (Beck et al., 2018).

Beck, L., Cable, T. T., & Knudson, D. M. (2018). Interpreting cultural and natural heritage : for a better world. Sagamore Venture.

Black, L. L., & Stone, D. (2005). Expanding the Definition of Privilege: The Concept of Social Privilege. JOURNAL OF MULTICULTURAL COUNSELING AND DEVELOPMENT, 33(4), 243–255. https://doi.org/10.1002/j.2161-1912.2005.tb00020.x  

[desert-bluffs-and-me]

WTNV quick rundown - 59 - Antiques

Featuring the voice of Dylan Marron as Carlos the Scientist.

It’s not darkest before the dawn. It’s actually darkest after all the stars have gone out. It’s very dark then. Welcome to Night Vale.

Antiques are a kind of wild animal in NV (are we really surprised?) with a friendly but unpredictable disposition and are in some way similar to owls, hyena and bateria. They have long low standing bodies, oval-shaped mouthes full of teeth, haunches, wings, bladed multi-legs and leak a vicous substance.

This makes Frances Donaldsons' 'Antique Mall' a kind of zoo I guess. Cecil reports that some of them have escaped. Frances corrects him saying they actually were set free because somebody cut the fence around their pen. Cecil grumbles about how 'reporters' aka him were just trying to help and don't need their heads bitten off for using the wrong word or whatever which is very petty and cute of him.

The SSP suggest screaming and running away from them but admit this might cause them to go into hunting behaviour and chase you down. They grumbled about how you should do your own research and melt back into the walls.

The Antiques swarm City Hall. Dana is left trapped inside, whilst City Council flee and the SSP police spent all their effort deflecting responsibility away from themselves because the situation looks too dangerous and scary. The SSP slogan is "Not our job. Not our problem." Cecil becomes distraught about Dana's safety.

Dana is apparently saved by Intern Hector who is filling it for Maureen whilst she's back at school and was sent by Cecil to get out there and see what is really going on. He has been bitten by an Antique, which causes him to slowly turn into an Antique and attempt to hunt Cecil, who flees as the show ends.

Weather: "State of Mine" by Stöj Snak music.stojsnak.com

The Erika's are releasing people whose lives Strex took possession of including; Janice Rio (from down the street, who was last seen entering a condo) and Lucy and Hannah Gutierrez (owners of the White Sand Ice Cream Shoppe) who are running a misleading Kickstarter to raise money to get their shoppe back up and running after Strex ran it into bankruptcy.

There is a Shambling Orphan housing development, down by the haunted baseball diamond. A citizen called Chad Boenger lives there.

Cecil runs a 'Find the man I'm thinking of' contest that nobody has every run. It's the 300st consecutive contest. The prize for winning will be a giant box of 301 pencils which say 'I won a thing'.

Carlos projects himself into the studio (similar to how Dana did) to talk to Cecil. They dicuss Cecil visiting him in the otherworld again, how much Cecil misses actually touching Carlos, and how interesting the rocks (not from this world but made of stuff which is) and the ever changing stars.

All 344 cameras around the antiques pen were disabled and that's apparently a low number of cameras in any area of NV.

Well, this is it, one way or another. Here I go, listeners. And here you go, off into radio silence, into places and times where my voice can no longer guide you. Good night, Night Vale. Good night.

Proverb: If you want a picture of the future, imagine a person writing headlines about millenials forever.

[troglobite]

asldkjfs

haha guess today isn't a day where i can talk to or hang out with my mom!!!!

my stupid fucking laptop fell off my bed and broke its own charger--AGAIN.

this time it BENT THE FUCKING PRONGS ON THE ACTUAL CHARGER.

and i'm tired, on my period, and uncomfortable and crabby.

so i go out to complain to my mom and ask for help

she immediately says do you want to look for a new charger

the thing is I'VE ALREADY DONE THAT BEFORE

i spent DAYS looking for a charger for my stupid piece of shit macbook pro that is 1. compatible 2. lasts forever 3. doesn't randomly start fires

and i decided

this is too much money and not worth the pain in the ass

i'll just get another fucking apple charger. this one lasted fine, it's whatever.

except it gets here and it REEKS OF GASOLINE as MANY apple products have since fucking 2016!

i clean and clean and clean it to get rid of the smell and it NEVER GOES AWAY so we have to fucking return it

so she asks me

do i wanna look for another charger

no, i don't

i spent all that time and money on it before only to keep using the charger that was already "broken" anyway all this time

it's slightly more broken now but will still be functional

so no, i DON'T want to look for a charger when i am TIRED, CRABBY, ON MY PERIOD, AND DEEPLY PHYSICALLY UNCOMFORTABLE

but me expressing that? as best i can when i am TIRED AND HAVING DIFFICULTY WITH WORDS?

well apparently that's me "discounting everything she says"

so i try to fucking talk to her as she uses tools to straighten out the prong on the charger

and she just ignores me

she won't say ANYTHING

SHE FUCKING IGNORES ME THE WHOLE FUCKING TIME NO MATTER WHAT I SAY

so i go to the bathroom and avoid HER

and it's fine, it's mostly straight now, it works

so i have to fucking text her to ask if she's mad at me for breaking the fucking charger

no, she says, "you just discount everything i say so i just have to keep my mouth shut"

WHICH IS WHAT SHE DOES WHENEVER SHE'S MAD AT SOMETHING FUCKING ELSE AND NOT ME BUT DECIDES TO TAKE IT OUT ON ME FOR EXISTING AND BEING UPSET ABOUT SOMETHING

so i explain to her, IN DETAIL, why me being IRRITATED AND DISAGREEING WITH HER ONE FUCKING QUESTION ABOUT LOOKING FOR A NEW CHARGER IS NOT THE SAME AS DISCOUNTING EVERYTHING SHE FUCKING SAYS

and she doesn't respond. at all. nothing. she won't talk to me.

so it's just going to be one of those days and i'm fucking sick of her refusing to acknowledge when she's in a bad fucking mood and taking it out on me

i recognize it's not fun to have our first interaction of the day be me walking out and pissed off abt my stupid piece of shit laptop and its stupid fucking piece of shit twice broken charger

but FUCKING CHRIST

ME GETTING VAGUELY FRUSTRATED AND HAVING DIFFICULTY USING WORDS TO EXPLAIN WHY HER ONE QUESTION/SUGGESTION ISN'T SUPER HELPFUL RIGHT NOW IS NOT THE SAME AS DISCOUNTING EVERYTHING SHE FUCKING SAYS

i'm so fucking tired and exhausted of this shit

it's unpredictable and annoying and she NEVER TAKES RESPONSIBILITY FOR ANY OF IT!!!! NEVER!!!!!

SHE NEVER FUCKING ACCEPTS THAT SHE'S JUST IN A BAD MOOD OR DOESN'T WANT TO DEAL WITH ME

AND INSTEAD OF SAYING THAT AND JUST BEING LIKE "SORRY I'M NOT IN THE MOOD SO I DON'T FEEL LIKE TALKING ABOUT ANYTHING, I'M ALSO MAD BUT ABOUT OTHER STUFF"

SHE JUST FUCKING TAKES IT OUT ON ME AND ACTS LIKE IT'S ENTIRELY MY FUCKING FAULT AND THAT I AM SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR HER SHITTY MOODS AND MEAN BEHAVIOR

literally the SECOND she's in a bad mood, i become An Evil Dictator Who Doesn't Let Her Do Anything or Listen To Her At All

and i'm so fucking tired of this shit

like it HURTS to be accused of that garbage WHEN IT'S NOT FUCKING TRUE

when my DAD is the one who would do that shit NOT ME

and HE ALSO DID IT TO ME

it's just always there lurking under the fucking surface, that she thinks i am my dad bc i'm disabled and need help, and bc of her own fucked up shit and trauma that she refuses to even LOOK at, she thinks that makes me an evil person bc SHE automatically does shit in response to someone being upset abt ANYTHING.

that's not my fucking responsibility and i'm FUCKING TIRED of having to be the one to DEAL WITH THE CONSEQUENCEDBFHJG,CNFMN,XHLJ,BXHKMRES

but noooooooo fuck looking at counselors for us to talk to

we're not going to do that until possibly may

if it ever even fucking happens!!!! HAHAHDLK JFACHDLIUAHIUWJZ