#that's why I trained myself to polish only the important stuff and got fast with time

[aiixen]

how do you draw so quickly?

I don't 😭 I'm actually super slow when it comes to drawing anything past the sketch/rough colors, it usually takes me few days to finish a fully clean piece (even if my art style it's still a bit messy!)

Most of the art I share here it's stuff that takes me around 2~4 hours, depending on how much I can focus on the piece and if I feel like cleaning it or not!

The real secret is... Getting obsessed with a character/media and/or having no free time so you need to force yourself to rush haha , if you stare at my pieces for half a second too long you can see that they are super messy 😭, but it doesn't really matter as long as you (as in the artist) are satisfied with how it looks + having the main focus cleaned up enough.

For example in my most recent art the character's hands /shirt and hair are not refined AT ALL. But the focus of th picture is the face, which I spent more time on it to have it look clean.

Beside this, I sometimes post art I had already done since a while but forgot to post... 🫣

[demilitarised-zone]

50 (yes fifty!!) Things You’ve Never Been Asked…. Let’s lighten the mood & have some fun! I always enjoy reading these and seeing a quick glimpse into my friend’s lives. (Just copy this & change the answers..😁)

Got tagged by @r6sshippingdelivery. Thank you😊

1. What is the colour of your hairbrush?

White? Brownish? I need a new one..

2. Name a food you never ever eat.

Mushrooms, cause I'm deathly allergic to those. Also not fond of eggs and spinach and jelly foods.

3. Are you typically too warm or too cold? 

I have a sensation loss of temeratures, so honestly? No idea. I've been told my hands are always cold though.

4. What were you doing 45 minutes ago?

Barbecqueing with my family😊

5. What is your favourite candy bar? 

I don't eat candy bars, except that one Polish one sometimes... The name of which escapes me tbh😅

6. Have you ever been to a professional sports game? 

I participated in Taekwondo turnaments. Still got some trophies at home!

7. What is the last thing you said out loud? 

Listen, I have the memory span if a fly, but I think it was "are you a good boy? Yes you are!"

8. What is your favourite ice cream?

🍉 all the way baby! (I'm obsessed with anything watermelon)

9. What was the last thing you had to drink?

Nice, cold water.

10. Do you like your wallet?

Defo need a new one, but haven't gotten around to buying one yet.

11. What was the last thing you ate?

Walnut ice cream!😍

12. Did you buy any new clothes last weekend?

Nope

13. The last sporting event you watched?

Soccer, I think, cause it's always on TV and the only thing my stepdad watches.

14. What is your favorite flavor of popcorn? 

Salty, but caramel is a close second.

15. Who is the last person you sent a text message to? 

One of my best friends, who'd just found a huge stash of компот in his attic from 30 years ago - but it's still consumable

16. Ever go camping?

Not outright camping in my free time, but three days survival training in the Schwarzwald.

17. Do you take vitamins? 

Not rn, but I was thinking if starting hair vitamins for a month, just to see if it gets me anything🤔

18. Do you go to church every Sunday? 

I used to for a time, but once I could choose wether I wanted to or not I stopped lol

20. Do you prefer Chinese food over pizza?

The day I, an Italian, will say that pizza is inferior to any other food, you may as well assume I lost my mind😂

21. Do you drink your soda with a straw?

Always, I just love drinking with straws, helps preserve my lipstick.

22. What color socks do you usually wear? 

Black or white, I prefer my clothing to be in simple colours and designs.

23. Do you ever drive above the speed limit? 

I don't drive^^

24. What terrifies you?

I got Akrophobia, so there's that. But also loneliness, zombies and uh... The allergic reaction to mushrooms, aka no air bc my whole throat swells. Big oof.

25. Look to your left, what do you see?

My bed that's so big, one side is always full of random stuff. It's a huge bed, king size, and I defo need more pillows to smother myself in when I sleep.

26. What chore do you hate most?

Mowing the lawn.... Or cleaning up my dogs puke. 😭

27. What do you think of when you hear an Australian accent?

G'DAY MATE

28. What’s your favorite soda?

I don't drink sodas.

29. Do you go in a fast food place or just hit the drive?

I don't eat fast food.

30. What is your favourite number?

I always liked 4 and 8 a lot. Idk why. 48 and 84 are the pinnacle of numbers?

31. Who’s the last person you talked to?

Me mum

32. Favourite cut of beef?

Uh... None, I guess?

33. Last song you listened to?

Wild Dances - Ruslana. (Eurovision Song Contest winner of... 2004. By the Ukraine)

34. Last book you read?

I... Don't read books anymore, tbh.😅

35. Favourite day of the week?

Friday, cause I travel on fridays and I love travelling.

36. Can you say the alphabet backwards?

Hell to the no, jut respect to those who can😮

37. How do you like your coffee?

I don't drink coffee, but when I do I'm 60 hours deep into my insomnia and I brewed it with vodka or Monster.

38. Favourite pair of shoes?

Sneakers! But also my high heeled boots😊

39. The time you normally get up?

5am every day. No exceptions.

40. What do you prefer, sunrise or sunsets?

Sunrise, especially watching it from hotel rooms on vacation~

41. How many blankets on your bed?

Two at any given time or season. Like I said before, temperature is never really a concern for me, so it's purely about comfort.

42. Describe your kitchen plates.

White with maroon and steel blue accents.

43. Describe your kitchen at the moment?

As tidy as always!

44. Do you have a favourite alcoholic drink?

Limoncello, Ramazotti with juice (orange or multi), Berliner Luft, Berentzen, and everything vodka. My favourite cocktail is the Bloody Mary🥴

45. Do you play cards?

Mau-Mau, Einunddreißiger, Magic the Gathering, Cards Against Humanity, Uno, Schwarzer Peter... Probably some more, though they won't come to mind.

46. What colour is your car?

I don't have a car lol

47. Can you change a tire?

Lol nope

48. Your favourite state?

I'm kinda learning the states bc I'm interested in geography, but still, I'm European asf so...🤷🏼‍♀️

49. Favourite job you’ve had?

I'm currently working my dream job😊

50. How did you get your biggest scar?

Assuming this means physical scars and not psychological ones, the ones I have are mostly from self arm, both on my arms and legs. I do have a tiny lil scar on one of my ankles from surgery too.

I'd tag some peeps, but I'm afraid they're all busy with more important stuff, so I'm not gonna bother them.

Feel free to participate if you want to, tho!

[kosmosian-quills]

Hunted

A scene I was very excited to finally finish! It took me longer than I would have liked. Work commitments and other personal stuff really ate away at my free time. But! Here is the next real story piece!

A few things to warn you about: there’s blood, a neck injury, and a sort of violent death? So if you’re squicky about that please be aware!

Otherwise, I hope you enjoy!

POV: Anjelika

Just a quick glossary of a few Polish words featured here:

Wstęp wzbroniony - no tresspassing.

Dziadziu - an affectionate term for “grandfather”.

Zkwiatami - a name of a town I invented (lit. “with the flowers”).

The rain is mercilessly pounding against me, cold and bitter and hard as it soaks me completely, chilling me to my core in the night-time wind that gushes through the trees here. It’s cold, so very cold.

But I can’t stop running.

I can barely see 10 feet in front of me, and that makes every single tree root a potentially fatal hazard. My feet are screaming in the shoes I’m wearing, simple black pumps that are absolutely not designed for sprinting through dense woodland after sunset. It’s very dark, in combination with the clouds that block the moon completely from view, as well as the night sky a deep black above and beyond those same clouds. I have no point of reference for where I am even going, I barely even know where I am.

My feet are in control, taking me anywhere, trying to get me away from there.

My lungs are on fire, and my breathing is deep and ragged from my constant and current exertion. I can’t seem to run fast enough, and I feel my heart beating furiously in my chest. My legs feel heavier and heavier with every step I force myself to take in such quick succession.

The man behind me is getting closer. I can hear him.

My feet crunched the leaves and twigs on the forest floor, all damp with the pouring rain yet still barely audible above the rumble of thunder in the distance.

I daren’t look back, it would only slow me down. My only chance is to outrun him. I can’t stop, I won’t stop, I need to keep going!

I can hear him yelling through the environmental chaos at me, but I can’t make out a single word that he’s shouting at me. I don’t want him to get any closer for me to find out. He knows, he knows who I am. He knows, and he wants to take advantage of that. He wants to take me away, send me back, but I don’t want to!

The woodland thinned out a little as I sprinted straight, not noticing the dip in the ground until it was too late. I hadn’t expected the drop – it wasn’t much of a drop – but it was enough to cause me to cry out in surprise. I ended up with my foot submerged in a shallow stream, and I felt my ankle land awkwardly against a rock. Shock from the cold and a sharp pain coursed through me, but it did not stop me. Not because I wanted to, because I needed to.

I was out of the stream within another step yet the momentary hesitation had slowed me down, and that was a few golden seconds that I could not afford to waste. I hated the feeling of my wet feet, I’ll get ill if I don’t – no. Not important. I’ll die, let alone get ill, if he catches me!

Splashes behind me barely a second later told me that he was right there, having just crossed the stream too. I can’t even process what the environment directly in front of me is like because all I can think about is how close he is now. I had not gone far, and I was struggling to breathe now. No amount of casual training with Anja had prepared me for this, and the already waning power of my adrenaline has only gotten me so far.

Not far enough.

I was still fighting to stay ahead of the man, but when I felt a brutal hand pull at the back of my shirt, and I screamed.

“I’ve got you now, you little –!“ I can hear him growl into my ear, something sharp at my side, and the way his voice sent a shiver through me in combination with the bitter air was almost unbearable.

His violent attempt to pull me to a halt, and my own attempt at keeping running, was thwarted by me losing my footing completely. I somehow escaped his grip – at the expense of tumbling down the hill completely out of control.

He seemed to fall immediately after me, but I couldn’t tell. I had screwed my eyes shut, trying to fight back the dizziness from the beating my body was taking. Hitting every single rock and branch. Thankfully no trees.

It’s a brief stumble, but still enough to wind me once the slope levels off.

As I finally roll to a stop at the bottom, well and truly battered by the fall, covered in dirt and soaked with rain, I expect to hear my pursuer recover faster than I and grab me, to try and take me away.

But it doesn’t happen.

I look around for him, and he’s some five feet away from me, behind me, shaking and convulsing, lying on his back staring up at the sky, not knowing or caring that I’m even here. There’s an awful gurgling sound and it takes me a few moments to realise what it is.

As I get up to my feet and step closer, looking over him, I can see clearly what is causing the awful sound.

The man is clutching at his throat, eyes wide with panic and coughing up blood so fast I’m surprised he hasn’t choked. I see the blade embedded in his throat, deep and deadly.

I can feel the colour drain from my face, and my vision dims with a fuzzy feeling, like I’m going to pass out. My legs give in beneath me and I collapse to my knees clutching my stomach. My insides churn and twist and I feel like I’m going to be sick. I can’t look away, somehow. Watching him bleed out in front of me, those awful sounds as he tries to breathe, to speak – something.

The man’s convulsions suddenly stop, and he stills, the blood from that gaping wound spreading onto the ground where he lay, unmoving, lifeless.

Dead.

I can’t hold it back anymore, and I retch up what little I had eaten earlier. My hands are shaking so hard that I grip onto the grass to try and stop them trembling, but even then I can’t.

My throat hurts with my wrecked sobs that I manage to choke up after spitting up all the bile. It hurts, and even breathing hurts here.

I can’t believe that just happened. I can’t believe it.

I killed a man.

What did I -? Why -?

I didn’t mean to do it, but… I didn’t know he had a knife! I didn’t know he would – I didn’t know he would fall like that, that he would –

The crack of lightning that strikes, and the deep rumble of thunder jolts me back to my senses, clearing my thoughts enough to realise I am still in a lot of trouble.

I stumble backwards, trying to get to my feet without looking at the man’s fresh corpse before I throw up again.

I’m lost, I don’t know where I am, I don’t even know where I can go to from here, but I have to keep going.

I have to.

--- 

I don’t stop for breath until I reach a clearing. The rain is still hammering down, but at least the thunder and lightning has ceased. There’s a huge umbrella of trees above me, granting me a very small shelter. It had leaks and wasn’t very sturdy. But it was enough for now.

I fought to still my trembling hands by folding my arms and keeping them firmly beneath them. I wasn’t even sure now if I was shaking so hard because of the cold, or what I just did.

The sound of that man dying in agony, coughing, spluttering, choking on his own blood. It's louder than the rain, and it's all I can hear.

The cold is brutal and even the breeze is merciless. I'm soaked to the skin, and even if I don't get caught now, I'll probably get pneumonia faster than I can sneeze.

I spin around on the spot slowly as I run my hands up and down my upper arms, trying to get warm, at least a little. My eyes dart around between all of the trees and shrubbery, trying to see if there is another following me. Somewhere in the distance I see something move, so fast I barely saw it, but it disappeared from view faster than I registered it.

My heart skipped a beat. There was someone else, I'm sure of it. I clenched my fists in my stance, trying to keep my breathing steady. Get ready to run. Where? I don't know.

The equally sudden movements from the same place emerged again, and it darted off in the opposite direction. A doe, I think. I probably spooked it.

But it means I am a little bit safer.

A soft crash and a strange squeal caused me to gasp in surprise and I turned sharply around to my right. A squirrel, it looks like, had fallen from the tree and hit a wooden sign, nailed to a post in the ground, on its way down, before dashing off up another tree.

But there was something about the sign... I don't know what, but it seems familiar. It simply read "WSTĘP WZBRONIONY", no trespassing. It's painted red and black and made of wood, most definitely not one that's mass produced in any way. The paint is worn away in many places, and it's even missing the bottom right corner.

Curiously, I step forward to get a closer look, and run my fingers over the brittle birch. I've seen this before, there's an indentation on one of the letters. On the letter "Y" at the end, it's crooked. Part of the paint that remains is oddly shaped.

I know this sign, I've seen it, because I was with Dziadziu when he painted it.

Of course it is. This sign is so old now, probably at least 13 years old, and nature had taken its toll on it.

My heart flutters as I reel in the memories. That means one thing.

His cottage is somewhere around here. Dziadziu.

That means shelter, warmth. Of course it is. We had stopped in Zkwiatami before...

No, stop it. I have to keep going. Have to stay safe.

I’m not totally familiar with the woods that surrounded his land, but I’m almost positive that the sign would lead me closer to it. If I just keep going in this direction, I should reach it eventually… or at least, I’ll reach something.

Now fuelled by the sheer prospect of being able to get warm and dry at last, I set off in the direction the sign was leading towards. The journey didn’t seem nearly as treacherous, nor hopeless. It seemed promising and welcome. I just need to get there.

The woods still seemed as nondescript and overgrown as the rest of it, nothing that signalled that any kind of house is nearby. But then again, Dziadziu has been dead for almost 5 years now. It’s mother’s house, and she never sold it or gave it away. It should be empty, and that means it’s safe. At least for now. No one will have come on down here, or at least, no one should have come down here.

In the darkness I nearly miss it, I nearly go straight past it.

A fence that does not fit the rest of the forest. It’s a stone fence, just barely visible in my peripheral vision, and yet it’s the most welcome thing I’ve seen so far. I waste no time in making my way there, rushing over and feeling the rush of euphoria that everything is as I remember it.

The uniform yet haphazard cobbles all encasing the moderate space of land that made up the small farm, the expanse of greenery, of overgrown weeds, flowers and ivy. The old greenhouse and shed over in the far corner, the stone path that weaves among the various parts of the garden, the fruit trees that line the wall still tall and proud, with a few still bearing fruit. The water barrels that are connected to the drainpipes on the cottage and the greenhouse, overflowing clearly from the amount of rain that will have fallen since they were last used. There are no tools laying around, like I remember. They were probably locked up in the shed, if not been taken by someone who will be alive to use said tools.

The cottage seems untouched and unused, the silhouette still visible as I recall everything about it. The wooden shutters over every window, the thatched roof with the wood burning stove, littered with leaves from every nearby tree. The flower boxes that lined the outside of the cottage were devoid of colour but full of weeds, out of control and not particularly appealing. I remember watering those when they were real flowers. There’s still a plant pot just outside the door, and I hope I can get in somehow. If necessary, I can always break a window. I’d rather not, but I can.

Before I even climb the wall, I spot the larger tree not far from where I stand, in the open area just outside the perimeter, that still has that rope swing there. The simple wooden plank tied to a sturdy branch by a thick rope. Still and unmoving, the rope slightly worn, probably from its use and the time that had passed since it was last used. When was the last time I used it, I wonder? When I was around 10? 11? 12? I don’t know, I can’t remember. It’s been too long, yet I remember the feeling that came from Dziadziu pushing me on that swing. It is so nice to think about, his gentle pushes, my laughter as I flew through the air on that seat. I probably sat on it much later on, when I visited him, even as they grew more infrequent because I was growing up faster than I would like. I’m sure he thought the same thing.

The wall is not too high, just barely above my chest, but I clambered over the stones with some difficulty thanks to the pouring rain, but managed to plant my feet in to the familiar ground.

I raced over, looking in every window, hoping for a sign that there was no one in there. I don’t think there is, I doubt anyone would want to come to a derelict cottage anyway. I don’t know how many people from around here would know whose house this technically belongs to – the Queen no less – and I wonder if they would even try to break in knowing that very fact.

I trip over my own feet as I cross the garden. Was it though? I thought I tripped on something. But no matter, I wasn’t injured any more than I already am. I just need to get inside.

Finally at the door, I try the handle, and it doesn’t budge. It’s rusty, of course, but there’s nothing I can do to stop that. It is an old house after all. I doubt there would be any keys here, not when mother would have all of them. It seems very counterproductive.

Frustrated and desperate, I look around for another way in. There has to be one. The front door maybe? But that may be just as locked as this one.

I rush around and find it just as locked, and I am not willing to try and break down a door. I don’t have that kind of strength here.

I catch sight of the windows to the living room just to the left of the door. They are two separate windows, but I have to do a double take. I can see that one of the windows is slightly open. It’s barely noticeable, and I don’t even want to ask why because I’m so grateful. The hinge is at the top, but from what I remember, it should be possible to climb inside. I think it opens wide enough for that, and all I want is to be in there. I can’t see the inside of the living room, the blinds are drawn.

I’m not surprised, of course. I try slipping my fingers in the gap at the bottom, and it’s stuck. With a little bit of persistence, I manage to open the window properly, and I can barely contain my excitement.

I prop the window open with my arm as far as it will go, and stand on the flower box at my feet. This may be difficult, but I’m halfway there. I don’t stop though, I’m so close.

Within a minute of determined trying and almost undignified movements, I was finally inside.

I had emerged through the blinds, and slammed the window shut behind me, finally at peace with the sound of silence. The rain outside was so far away from me now. I felt myself shudder as I simply kneel there on the ground, trying to get warm, finally out of the storm outside.

I’m so focussed on my attempts at warming myself up that I don’t notice the feeling of something cold, hard and round pressed against the back of my neck.

“Hands on your head. Now.”

[teenagebeautyqueen]

[Image description: a young person holds a mobile phone with a blue case and a paper on the other. the paper has a drawing of an umbrella colored with the trans pride flag. we can only see their upper body. they are looking down and to the left of the image. they're smiling without showing their teeth, and look relaxed. they're wearing a black, loose hoodie and some shorts can be seen at the bottom of the picture. they're also using black nail polish. on the background there is a door and a star wars poster. the other image is a close up of the paper. end ID]

🌈ʜᴇ/ᴛʜᴇʏ🌈

happy trans day of visability to all my fellow trans*!! here is me and my project for peace's day... i personally love it. it's on spanish, but i'll translate it for y'all.

the text on the left says "cada persona que conoces está luchando una batalla de la que no sabes nada. sé amable. siempre", which is the translation of that quote that goes like "every person you meet is fighting a battle you know nothing about. be kind. always".

the one on the right says "¿qué sentido hay en pelear? ¿por qué insistimos en sabotearnos mutuamente? Todos caminamos por el mismo sendero embarrado, todos nos dirigimos al mismo final." its translation is something like "what's the point on fighting? why do we insist on sabotage each other? we all walk the same muddy path, we are all headed for the same end."

and above the umbrella there's words like "odio", "acoso", "ignorancia" & "discriminación", which mean "hatred", "harassment", "ignorance", and "discrimination".

yeah i'm very subtle.

i've decided to share my story with the world. but i got kinda carried away. it's not s fairy tale, so don't read it if you're sensitive to themes like bullying, mental health issues, and toxic people.

——————————————————————

it's been... one ride of a journey, to say the least. i've said a few times that i started to question my gender around summer. but that's not quite true.

growing up, i never was fond of... anything that i associated with femenine, really. this included, but wasn't limited to, any color that wasn't blue (pink and purple get a special mention, i despised them), flowers, clothes too loose or too tight, shorts if they weren't from some sport, etc. i think you get the idea.

this collided with me being afab (aka a girl for everyone including myself) & neurodivergent. i wanted nothing to do with those things. but society wanted me to love them.

5 yo me said she didn't like Monster High. 5 yo female classmate said i was a weirdo. 7 yo me loved football. 7 yo male classmate said i couldn't play because i was a girl. 9 yo me hyperfixated on minecraft. 9 yo pretty much every classmate called me a geek.

so i stoped trying. for a while, i loved pink, wanted to have rapunzel's hair, watched disney channel, etc. but i already was the weirdo. i remember being three and friends with all of them. i remember playful fights for the toy rocket and reading books with the only other boy who could read, to ourselves, each other, and the whole class. but people grow up, and they change. so yeah, i was bullied. always the last one to be chosen, left alone on the bus rides, on my own at the playground.

and you'll be thinking "that sucks, but pao, how is it related to you being trans?"

you'll see, i didn't have many friends. i was kinda alone until i turned 7. then two new kids came to my class. let's call them eva and john. i made friends with them asap. i loved them so much!! they were my first friends since kindergarden. so i allowed myself to let go. i was already hated by most of my peers. why wouldn't i be myself with those who didn't despise me? (i was 7 when i thought this. 7 years old, and i thought that out of 20 people, 18 hated me. and then people wonder why i've got self-steem issues lmao. i'm tryna make the point that bullying in primary school isn't just some mean kids calling you names. i'm currently in high school and it still has its mark on me. but that's for another moment.)

so yeah. i went "wild". eva has adhd too (noice, right? i mean she has her diagnosis becaise she's primarly hyperactive, while i'm primarly inattentive, but we understood each other way quickier than with neurotypicals– even if i didn't know why yet), and john was kinda shy & corpulent (he wasn't fat, but he didn't look slim either), just like me. so we became friends. and i slowly opened up a little, while still playing my role of "the freak kid". i knew i was seen as that AND as the smart kid. double pressure, double bullying. but i had my small circle. it evolved until my current friend group, in which, god bless, there's a trans girl!! (eva's still on it– she's my best friend and i would die for her, no doubts. john can go fuck himself, the goddamned fascist).

but it ain't that easy. it never is. i'm 14 and afab. shit happens. y'all get it.

my first period happened while i was on a school trip (bad), on a hotel with no pads avaliable (very bad), on another country so i couldn't call my mum unless i had wifi because politics & stuff– and i did not have wifi (really bad). cue a lot of dysphoria (even if i didn't know it was that) + not being able to contact anyone. add the fact that i was the second one to have it, and it was some kind of taboo– it meant the other girls wouldn't leave me alone, and the result is clear: one of my worst panic attacks ever, on a tiny bathroom of some shitty hotel room.

from there it went downhill. my body started to become femenine, and the football short didn't make my hips smaller. my face, my oh so alarged face, suddenly became rounder. puberty hit me not only physically, but emotionally. and if that wasn't enough, we, as a class, were entering what's called here "the turkey age", a.k.a. teenagerhood, where looks become even more important. it didn't take long until i hated my body.

[WARNING: from here, this gets hard. mentions of eating disorders, depressive episodes/thoughts, toxic enviroments, homophobia/transphobia (both internalized and external), anxiety attacks, and thoughts of self-harm]

i thought "it's big, it shouldn't be big, it's fat. besides i don't want it to grow so fast. i want to make it stop growing. how? well, i grow up by eating. no eating=no growing".

yeah. eating disorder. when i think about it, i want to laugh. because it only took a few comments and "jokes" for me to be so angry at myself when i should be mad with them. i'm big. always have been, very likely always will. i've been told that i could make a very good rugby player. i probably would. i shared my cantine table with people (😔). and they wouldn't shut up. "[deadname], the rest wants to eat too!", "look at [deadname], she's gonna eat it all!". things like that. i stoped eating. i would pick up the smallest amount of food i could, even if my stomach was begging me to please eat something. eventually, my mum found out. and she helped me to grow out of it. i sometimes releapse, but never for that long. because i went on a whole year like that. and it sucked.

so, last year. socially anxious neurodivergent girl with several doubts on her sexuality gets to eight grade.

i play basketball. since i was little. i used to enjoy it a lot. we weren't a team– we were a family. loved 'em so much, 1000/10 one of the best things of my life. BOOM. now you're old enough & good enough to be on the "good" team. in the good time there's the cool kids. i am not a cool kid. oops. i was left behind, they all laughed at my back, no one cared about me (except one girl, but she was in the group and was scared to act until almost the end of the year. love her for that tho). i felt like shit. i was too scared to go to train. the sight of a ball scared me, because i couldn't help but think everyone was talking shit about me. we went to a national championship and when they went out to the city, they didn't tell me, then sent a pic of them having fun to the groupchat & delated it saying "oops it was for the other group". i had several breakdowns on my room that night. it was such a bad experience i can't even hear the name of the city without tearing up.

not to count that a new girl decided to make my life a living hell. now i know how to deal with her, but then i didn't, and i ended up curled up on the bathroom floor crying.

all while i discovered my own identity. i was so scared of being non-straight i hated myself for it.

it was a tough year and there were times where i would wish i'd never existed. it was too much for me to deal with, and i was just miserable. but i got out of it. remember the trans girl i mentioned? she's closeted, and she told me just this october. but even before that, she was my friend. she bought a new life to it all, a fresh one. i owe her a lot, including accepting myself as i am.

she is here, despite everything.

i am here, despite everything.

you are all here, despite everything.

some of us aren't here. they are the ones we remember. each one of us has our history. i shared mine with you all. it is not an easy road. you know that. it's hard, and it's tough, and it's difficult, and it's unfair.

but we are here, despite everything. the ones who made it, the ones who didn't, the ones who are halfway through it, and the ones who are to come.

we are here. we are trans. and we won't be erased.

[danetobelieve]

Come Together || Penelope and Winston

Winston was having a really shit week. They were almost four animal attacks in, they had discovered that there were people in White Crest, people like Ricky, who they had known for years and years. People they trusted. And for some reason they had a mouthful of what could have very easily been mistaken for a shark’s teeth. Their hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly that the veins in their hands bulged and they took the left turn to Pen’s house. They needed to talk to someone. Talk to someone that they could trust. Parking poorly, they jumped straight out of their car and stormed to the front door. They might’ve been shaking gently from the shock of it all or they might just be cold. They hadn’t exactly stayed long enough to get a jacket when they’d spoken with Ricky and spotted their mouthful of teeth. “Pen!” they shouted, wrapping loudly on the door and watching the door shake in the frame but not budge, “Pen please let me in, it’s really cold and I’ve had a really shitty time.” They’d almost died alongside Skylar, Skylar had fucked up teeth and here they were discovering that the dude they lived with was one of them. What the fuck was up with them only eating fish and meat? They hadn’t stayed long enough to find out. “Pen open the fucking door?!” 

Where Winston’s week had been...lackluster, Penelope’s had been rather profitable with the monsters she’d brought in. It had started with Ereich, and other high money monsters had followed. She brought each one dutifully back to the Ring, not sparing them too much of a second thought when she was primarily certain their moral alignments were ones that deserved to be brought to judgment via involuntary fighting for the rest of their lives. Not that she had the most moral alignment, but she didn’t go around murdering without cause. Either way, it seemed that one of them had been carrying a little hitchhiker on their way back to White Crest, and now Nell was bent on all fours underneath the kitchen table desperately trying to trap the seemingly harmless bug flitting around the room. Then Winston’s voice came. Her head came up far too fast in her surprise, and a loud curse followed. “Shit!” As she cradled her head, she made her best attempts to stall for time. “Uhhh, one sec! I’m just uh- changing!” Then again under her breath, “Get back here you little shit. I’m gonna squish you like the bug you are.”

Winston was cold. They’d gotten soaked in the Cave of Voices and then they heard the thunder rumble in the background and rolled their eyes. Taking their glasses off, they polished them vigorously before taking a seat on Penelope’s front door step. Glancing at their phone, they considered texting Skylar to ask them some questions about WHAT THE FUCK was going on. But they ultimately decided against that. Right now they just needed to relax and be around someone who wasn’t about to have a mouthful of teeth that they hadn’t had the night before. Pen and Winston had literally lost teeth together, they’d been friends while their teeth were falling out and Pen had even helped Winston pull out their first loose tooth. They’d been so impressed by it all. “Ugh, hurry uppppppppp!” Winston banged the back of their head gently on the door, too lazy to reach around to knock with their knuckles and unconcerned by the way it might appear. After all what was the point of your childhood best friend moving back into town if you couldn’t treat them like that. “I’m going to get Abby or Bea to cut me a key so I don’t have to wait for your lazy ass to get dressed.” It was getting close to sundown and Winston honestly couldn’t help but wonder why the fuck they were like this. “Hurry up!!!!”

Penelope could tell that Winston was entirely not pleased with having been made to wait, and though it was something of a funny thing to be nostalgic for— she was glad that it still seemed they had no problem with acting like they owed every single minute of her life. Which...wasn’t entirely inaccurate. They were always the person she was sure to make time for. After all, it was a little difficult to ignore the person you’d been potty trained alongside, and Winston was arguably one of the pillars of Nell’s otherwise somewhat chaotic life. “I’m trying— just- hang on!” Her somewhat frantic tone was rather unmistakeable, and no doubt perhaps a little intense for simply changing. And why would she be changing in the entryway of her home anyway? “No! No- don’t ask them! I’ll just make you a key myself!” With a loud thud she finally managed to get a jar over the pesky little Adze, trapping it against the table. For a moment she left it there, taking pity on Winston to go and open the door, noticeably short of breath. “Sorry, I uhhh- couldn’t decide what to wear.” 

After a little longer then they would’ve really liked to have waited, Winston felt the door open. Whilst they were still leaning against it. Falling backwards wasn’t ideal, but at least they had Penelope’s feet to cushion their fall. “Hey, hey, hey,” they said with a sigh, “a little warning next time, my brains the only thing I’ve got going for me.” Especially now. Standing, they looked her in the eye. Pausing for a moment before raising an eyebrow at Penelope, Winston strode into her home. “Nice of you to finally let me in…” “Getting dressed isn’t that hard …” they squinted at Penelope and frowned gently before adjusting their glasses thoughtfully, “Are you out of breath? I’m the one who is meant to be asthmatic. You’ve not started smoking have you?” They paused for a moment longer and strode towards the table, intent on taking a seat. “You don’t have to impress me, I know I’m important but I don’t care what you wear, I remember when you wore overalls and a fedora for months on end.” 

“Shit” Penelope cursed again as Winston fell, and she did her best to try and help them up. “Are you alright?” was her first reflexive question. Followed by, “What were you doing? Trying to blow my house and front door down by standing so close?” Nevertheless she gave their head a soft side-swipe, a joking little hit. “That big ol’ noggin of your’s. Making real good use of it these days with all your coffee fetching.” Penelope had spent years keeping Winston in the dark of her biggest secret, though she’d come close to telling them many a time when it came to her abilities. She felt a bit guilty about leaving them in the dark, but really it would only make them safer by not knowing. But now, with an Azde inside an upside down jar on her kitchen table just behind her, she was doing her best to act natural. “What? Sometimes it is. Sometimes it’s hard to get in and out of those clothes. No I haven’t started smoking. Apart from...the devil’s lettuce I got you on a while ago,” she teased, fondly remembering the first time she’d introduced them to weed. “Yes, well— I stand by that look. It was couture to nine-year-old me. Maybe I just like looking decent, though.”

“I’m fine,” Winston replied brushing off their friend’s attempt to be doting on them. It was kind but unnecessary. “Don’t be so dramatic, and my head isn’t any bigger then yours.” They’d insisted on measuring diameter of head. “It is a means to an end,” Winston replied with a shake of their head, “besides they’ve got me doing other stuff too, it’s all worth it.” They were working towards something greater then their current standing. But all the same, something seemed off with Penelope. “What?” they replied, confused, “When have you ever had problems getting in and out of clothes? Isn’t that like a basic function that you could more or less handle even at the age of three…?” They rolled their eyes and shrugged. “You only get to be young once, but those days are behind me, I’m a reformed man.” They raised an eyebrow and shook their head. “You wouldn’t believe the day I’ve had…” They weren’t even going to be able to tell their friend the whole truth. Despite everything that was worrying them about their friend and their living situation, Ricky had asked them to keep it to themselves and Winston was determined not to let him down. 

“Mmm, not so sure about that,” Penelope continued to tease as she eyed their head, always finding amusement when it came to poking a bit of fun at Winston. “I still think the measuring tape could have been faulty.” But she nodded along dutifully to Winston’s words, trying to be as supportive of a friend as she could be. “Okay well if they’re still having you fetch coffee in three months, tell me. ‘Cause I’ll come convince them to promote you.” Through all her words though, she kept glancing towards the table that had the Azde loudly buzzing around the jar, her anxiety mounting as it somehow managed to move said jar an inch towards the edge, as if it were trying to escape. “Look- sometimes clothes get the jump on you, alright?” It didn’t make sense even for her, but it was hard to form good comebacks when she was trying to keep a bloodsucking bug/vampire from getting loose. “What happened?” she asked, trying her best to give them her full attention, but failing a bit in her anxiety about the casual monster on her kitchen table.

“Of course you’re not sure about that, but it isn’t your head, it’s my head and I’m sure it’s fine. I’m okay you don’t need to worry about me.” Pausing for a moment, they raised an eyebrow. “How could a measuring tape be faulty?” Winston asked semi exasperated by their friends apparent lack of intelligence. “I don’t need you or anyone else to save me from my co-workers, believe me when I say that I have this under control. Besides coffee isn’t the only thing that I do. Also your brand of convincing might get my fired.” Winston could hear a loud whirring noise, but assumed that it was the wind or something. “My clothes have never got the better of me,” Winston retorted, “maybe you’re just broken?” They paused for a moment and scratched their head. “I think it was an animal attack of some kind? But I can’t really be sure to be perfectly honest. It all happened really fast, but everythings been weird. Like things haven’t been their normal weird, but weird weird, y’know…”

“I’d like to think I have some ownership over your head at this point,” Nell joked as best she could with the worry of the adze still in the back of her mind. “It’s like- just part of being friends since we were in pull-ups.” Perhaps she would have pushed the matter of Winston getting coffee further if her head hadn’t whipped around at the loud shattering of glass. The Adze had finally managed to knock itself off the table. “Fuck!” she cursed loudly, jumping into action by grabbing the nearest bit of newspaper to create a makeshift fly swatter, looking around wildly for the pesky little bugger. Meanwhile, she was only thinking about how this would not doubt be added to Winston’s list of weird weird things happening around town. “What uh- what kind of animal?” she tried her best to pretend as if she wasn't manically hunting a bug, and if she’d been less focused on the bug, she would have been amused to hear the clueless ramblings of a human refusing to believe what the weirdness in White Crest was.

“I will literally have it put into my will that you don’t get any part of my head at any point,” Winston retorted with a shake of their head. But then Penelope was off. Which in itself wasn’t weird. Penelope seemed to be categorically incapable of not constantly moving. But what was weird here was more what Penelope appeared to be doing. Winston wasn’t sure they understood. “Uh, hey,” they said leaning forward as they watched Penelope roll up a newspaper, “are you okay?” Maybe that was the buzzing. Was there a bug in here? Winston wasn’t sure why Penelope was making such a big deal about it. It was just a bug. “I don’t know what kind of animal it was,” Winston admitted, “I can’t really go into the specifics but there have been a load of weird things happening. Animals that breath fire, animals with red eyes, I even think I was hallucinating the other evening.” 

“I’m fine, I’m fine!” Nell said in a decidedly not fine tone. She looked like a cat ready to pounce, her eyes trailing the azde as it flew about the room. But then— she lost it. “Shit, did you see where it went? Do you see it flying around anywhere?” Honestly she was lucky the bug vampire hadn’t shifted into it’s humanoid form when she had trapped, but she had a feeling that was due to the light streaming into the kitchen. However if it managed to find a nice, shadowy place...The thought made her search more frantically. “Right- weird animal,” she repeated, absolutely barely listening at this point. She had to make sure she got this azde before it could put Winston in danger. 

“Fine as in; fucked up, insecure, neurotic and emotional?” Winston asked teasingly. She seemed to be on high alert, almost uncharacteristically focussed on this bug that was flying around. Come to think of it, the bug looked a little odd. Winston hadn’t seen any insects that oddly shaped before and they weren’t sure what it was. Looking around, Winston spotted it perched on top of the frame of the doorway. Reaching into the cupboard, they pulled down two mugs and began making coffee in Pen’s kitchen as if this were nothing more then another normal day, definitely not as if they weren’t in someone elses kitchen. “I can tell you about this later if you’d rather catch whatever bug thing that is…?”

“Ha-ha, very funny. Except those are all words I’d use to describe yourself,” Penelope said in between her grunts of jumping and trying to catch this cursed Adze. She needed to get the damn thing back under wraps before Winston saw something off about it. Though, perhaps she could just play dumb if they did notice anything strange. This would all be much easier if she could use her magic in front of her friend. “No, no! I’m...listening!” Between her words, she tried to jump and hit the doorframe, a failed attempt to smash the pesky vermin. But she really did want to be there for Winston’s story, it was just a bit difficult to be when there was a blood-sucking bug flying around. “The animal!” she prompted, as if it were proof she could focus enough for their words.

“Just because they apply to me doesn’t mean that they do not also apply to you, had you ever considered that smart ass?” Winston smirked gently at their retort. Pausing they watched interested as she attempted to squash it, but merely succeeded in slapping the door frame. “Do you want a hand?” they asked somewhat concerned that Penelope wasn’t capable of managing this on her own. Which seemed odd, she’d always been the more athletic of the two of them. “It was just there have been some weird stuff going on, I ran into two dogs that were feral, it looked like one of them was breathing fire but y’know that’s obviously not happening and the other one had bright red eyes….” they swallowed and shrugged, “But that’s gotta be rabies right?”

“If I’m such a smart ass I’ve probably considered everything,” Penelope retorted back, enjoying their effortless back and forth banter. It seemed even when she was driving herself crazy trying to catch a little monster, their friendship was easy enough to maintain. “Uhhhh…” Penelope hesitated, juggling Winston helping catch a potentially dangerous creature against said creature escaping. “Maybe in a bit. Give me a few more chances— don’t give up on me now.” A moment later, Nell was crouched by the table where the bug had landed once more, as if she were trying to sneak up on it. Her voice had dropped to a hushed tone as she spoke to Winston, not wanting to blow her cover. “I mean- weirder things have happened around here, haven’t they? It could be rabies I guess…” She never wanted to lie to Winston, but it was difficult toeing the line with them and the supernatural. 

“I would’ve hoped that you would have considered everything, but when you’ve been friends with someone since diapers then you begin to get to know them almost too well, and I know that you definitely have not considered this.” Winston wasn’t about to take any back chat from their oldest friend. “I’ll try not to give up on you, but there is only so much failure I can take before I feel the need to intervene.” They paused and shrugged. Honestly there was almost too much going on for them to really focus on, well the weirder things that were going on. They were trying to prioritise where they focussed their attention. “Have they? I feel like everyone constantly talks about how weird this town is and I only really started to notice how weird it was when all of this began.” They sighed and shrugged. “I don’t think it was rabies, I’m just trying to convince myself that it was indeed rabies so that I don’t know what it actually was.”

At this point, Nell had forgotten exactly what she was supposed to be considering— especially while she was thoroughly distracted with trying to finish the bug-vampire. But that didn’t stop her from once again going to tease Winston, enjoying their continued back and forth as always. “Yeah- but have you considered I remember exactly how long it took for you to be potty trained. Or I could always lie about it and people would believe me since I’m so believable- and I’ve known you forever.” For a moment, Nell didn’t reply, holding up a single finger as if she were signalling Winston to hold, intent on her prey. And then all at once she pounced, and loudly exclaimed “HA! Got him!” And indeed, she had managed to finally squish the supernatural vermin. “God- finally. I was about to burn the whole house down.” But the death of the Azde meant that she could finally focus on Winston’s words. “Well...I guess it’s been exceptionally weirder lately. Maybe that’s what you’re noticing?” Going out on the smallest of limbs, she decided to test the waters for a moment. “I don’t really think it was rabies either…”

“That is not something that I had considered, however my counter point would be that I have photos of you dressed in costumes that you absolutely would not want to get onto the internet, I also have the ability to create enough accounts on a repeating algorithm to make your fifth grade halloween costume go viral,” Winston replied with a very sweet smile as they adjusted their glasses. They watched as Nell finally managed to catch the bug. They weren’t sure why they were trying to catch it and not, y’know just kill it. But it was a bug. Hardly THAT important. “You’re right, it has been exceptionally weird and I don’t think that it was rabies either, at first I was able to convince myself that it might be but the more I think about it, well it seems unlikely. Rabies also doesn’t behave in that way. At least not from my research.” 

At the first mention of mortifying costumes, Nell thought Winston was talking about her gymnastics ones. She’d loved the physicality of the sport, but the costumes...they were always a big much for her. But as he mentioned fifth grade Halloween she pointed a threatening finger at him. “You wouldn’t. I’ll tell everyone about the time your head got stuck in between the bars on the jungle gym ‘cause it’s just that big. Amongst other much more horrible things that I’ll only let you find out secondhand.” She wiped the remnants of the dead Azde off her hand, making a bit of face as it came away onto the towel. “Maybe it’s just a different breed of dog.” Was there any harm in nudging him in the right direction?

[elizabeth-234]

Chapter Seven

Someone to Care

Chapter Six

That morning she sent the text to Mr. Stark. At first worried it was too formal and as soon as it sent, worried it wasn’t formal enough. After a shower and getting her bag packed, she headed to the kitchen and noticed the leftovers for May were still on the counter. There had to be something else she could do and Peyton resolved to try and find another job.

Time flew and Peyton found she was extremely busy with school stuff and her patrols. She had no such luck finding a job with her schedule yet, but was continuing to look. And soon she was here at Stark Towers and it was everything she had ever dreamed of. Every surface of the lab gleamed and each shelf was stocked full of different types of metals and tech Peyton was sure went into making the famous Iron Man suits.

In a daze she started walking around the lab, unaware of Mr. Stark’s eyes following her. She ran her fingers across the tables, trying to take everything in. She stopped in front of the robot Mr. Stark had warned her of earlier and although she was fairly sure he was jesting, was still slightly weary.

It moved its arm up, making Peyton feel like it was looking at her and cocked it to the side. She knew she was being sized up and gave a little bow in order to pay respects. It gave a little humming noise and bumped her stomach. She reached forward and gave the little robot a rub on the top of the claw, to which it replied with an even more enthusiastic noise. Peyton giggled because it reminded her of Wall-E. Her enthusiasm was contagious it appeared because the robot spun around, narrowly missing Peyton with its arm.

“Hey Robo-arm, be careful of the kid. You don’t know your own strength.” Dum-E made an indignant noise and raised his arm again, which Peyton then fist bumped.

Laughing, she said, “Mr. Stark, This is honestly better than Disney world. I can’t believe I’m here.”  She finally turned back around to look at Mr. Stark. He was leaning hip against the table; eyebrows pulled together causing creases to form.

“This is just, this is so cool.” She smiled softly and looked down to the floor.

“Well kiddo, what do you say we get started?”

And with that they dived right into testing. Firstly, she tried on the suit, which although could shrink to form to her body was too long in the sleeves and legs. Peyton was beyond embarrassed when Mr. Stark disappeared for a second and then came back with a small tin box. She must have had a strange look on her face because he laughed and told her it was an easy fix. He then proceeded to get on his knees and start to hem the pants of her suit. Peyton’s face lit up bright red and she stammered that he shouldn’t have to do that.

“Nonsense kid. We can’t have you tripping over all this material. Besides, it’s been a second and I need the practice.”

She had no response to that and stood there quietly, face still burning, while he worked. Peyton wondered where he ever learned to sew like that. Never in a million years had she thought that she would be standing here with Mr. Stark, needle between his lips, while he shortened her sleeve.

Ben had tried to teach her at one point and Peyton was decent at it. May and Ben hadn’t thought they were ever going to have children and so it wasn’t something they saved for. It was certainly a surprise when Peyton came to stay with them and money had been tight. Ben wanted her to learn so she could patch up some of her clothes; which still fit but were worn down. Peyton had never got the hang of it so that duty fell to Ben, his fingers being surprisingly nimble. This intimate act reminded her of all those times Uncle Ben spent hours trying to salvage her clothes when she was too rough on them.

Everything was just moving so fast. Not a week ago she would never have revealed her face to anyone, including Aunt May. But something in their first meeting had changed her mind. Peyton couldn’t quite put her finger on it but something about Mr. Stark just resonated with her and she decided to take a leap of faith. It was hard living with a secret this big and Peyton just needed someone to trust. Someone who could protect themselves from getting hurt. She was tired from hiding and then Mr. Stark had landed on that roof and she made up her mind.  

After fixing the fit of her suit, they went to one of the gym rooms and tested her actual abilities. Peyton wanted to impress him so she went all out. The only difficult thing was that she had never had any formal training, so a lot of her moves weren’t as polished as they could have been. Basically she acted on instinct. Mr. Stark had been over the moon when she showed him how she could climb walls and stick to any material. Peyton had thought she heard him say that he knew he was right. Her web fluid was another point of interest.

“So, which of my competitors did you get that from kid?” He said, pointing to the web cartridge. Peyton wasn’t exactly sure what he was asking so she just continued to stare at the package.

“Come on now. You can tell me, I won’t judge you. Well, if you say Oscorp I can’t promise you no judgment. We all know their stuff is shit.” His self-important expression made Peyton start laughing.

“Oh. No, Mr. Stark I haven’t trusted Oscorp since... No, I made this myself.”

He stared at her intently for a second and she wondered if he was going to ask her about the hesitation, but then what Peyton would have called a proud smile came over his face.

Softly he said, “Of course you did kid. You’ll have to show me your formulas another time.”

She nodded eagerly. Mr. Stark wanted to look at her formulas! He had even looked proud when she had told him she made it herself. And that was that. After testing her various powers in a modular, Peyton was starving. Her stomach growled and Mr. Stark laughed.

“Come on, let’s get something to eat and I’ll take you home.”

“It’s okay, Mr. Stark. I can just take the subway back home.”

“No arguing. It’s dark out and I’m hungry as well.”

Not wanting to ruin comfortable mood of the afternoon, she stayed silent. That was how she found herself sitting across from him at an Indian restaurant, in disguise. Although, she didn’t really see how he was incognito because he was wearing a Stark Industries baseball cap and his signature glasses. She was surprised he wasn’t sporting an Iron Man t-shirt too.

To her relief it wasn’t awkward, Mr. Stark asked if she had a preference to the food and she, overwhelmed by the choices, said no. He ordered and soon there were plates of piping hot masala, naan, and a mixture of other dishes between them. Normally, it was hard for her to talk to someone she didn’t really know. There was just something in her brain that, when confronted with a new person, froze up. That’s one of the reasons Peyton had a hard go of making friends, for the longest time it had just been her before Ned came around.

But this was completely different than most interactions Peyton had, especially with an adult. The media portrayed Tony Stark as an entitled and self-centered man, but in reality Mr. Stark was completely different. Not domineering the whole conversation, they both talked about things they enjoyed and were interested in. Mr. Stark was surprisingly funny and had her laughing with his impressions of Happy, his bodyguard, chauffeur, head of security, guy. He asked her insightful questions about herself and she found herself answering honestly and openly. The only time the conversation became strained was when she told Mr. Stark about school.

His eyes went completely blank as he ran his hand through his hair. She thought she heard him whisper an expletive beneath his breath.

“I didn’t really think you were a kid. Damn, how old are you Peyton?” It was the first time he had ever said her name and the way he spoke it made her never want to hear it again. For some reason she felt ashamed of her age and didn’t want to answer, tearing off another piece of naan she whispered, “15.”

And all at once she realized what was happening. Mr. Stark had thought she was a lot older. Of course he would never have asked a child to help him fight the Avengers. She wasn’t even a real superhero. She’d let Ben die and once again had ruined everything. Any second now she would wake up from this dream to find herself lying in her bed, her original suit stashed under her floorboard, engulfed by the dark apartment, and alone.

She peeked up at him through her lashes and found that he wasn’t even looking at her. His eyes were trained on the next table. She feared what he was thinking, feared what he had to say next.

“Look kid, I’m no good at this but even I have to draw the line sometimes. I can’t knowingly allow you to help.” She looked up in silent resignation, accepting, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“You’re just a kid. I can’t. It’s not fair to you. You’re just so young.”

And something in his hallowed expression made Peyton mad.

“No.” she said. “You, you can’t just say no. I want to help Mr. Stark. I need to help. This doesn’t just affect you and me. This could hurt lots of people and if I can do something to help. I will. I have to Mr. Stark.” She could feel her chest rising and falling rapidly.

Mr. Stark had to let her help. Selfishly, it was not just because she wanted to help people. Peyton had finally found someone that seemed like they understood. Ever since getting her powers, ever since Ben, she had been trying to find a purpose. Trying to find a way to figure out why she, of all the people on the planet, had contracted these powers. Sure, she loved saving people. It made her feel good and it gave her a sense of accomplishment and eased some guilt. But, she wanted to do more. She wanted to be all that she could be.

Not to mention that having her abilities was so isolating. Peyton had made the decision early on not to tell anyone what happened and now she reaped the consequences.  

She had dreams about what could happen to May if someone had found out who she was. It had become one of her biggest fears. That she wouldn’t be able to save someone she loved, already feeling like she failed once. And now she had finally chosen to tell someone and he didn’t want her all because of her stupid age. It wasn’t fair and she wasn’t going to let Mr. Stark leave her. Not like all the other people in her life. Not when she finally decided to open up again.

Finally she broke the silence. “Please, Mr. Stark. I need to do this. I want to help you.”

She looked down and squeezed her crossed fingers until they turned white. They sat in silence once more but Peyton felt like she had said enough.

Finally he looked at her, his brown eyes searching her determined ones. “Okay, kid. Here’s what’s going to happen. You can come but it’s simply going to be a decorative position. You won’t fight but we can use you. It will put them on edge because they don’t know you. But I won’t have you getting hurt.” By the time he was done she was smiling widely.

“I won’t let you down Mr. Stark. Thank you!”

“Don’t thank me yet, kid. God, this is so not responsible. But when has anyone ever accused me of such an atrocity?”

Thanks to everyone!

Chapter Eight

[earlgreytea68]

Show, Don’t Tell

I put this up on Twitter over the weekend, after I read this Regency AU and kind of lost my mind a little bit over how much I loved it, and I was thinking about why I liked it, and then I realized that why I like it is a reason that is something I try to pay attention to in my own writing, and then I realized that, Idk, maybe other people might like to see the approach that I take? 

I don't talk much about writing, because I think everyone's writing process is different, and what everyone wants out of writing is different, and so everything you hear should always be taken with a grain of salt. I often disagree with writing advice that I hear (especially “kill your darlings” for me, lol, love your darlings, cuddle them close, make yourself happy). 

But, here is a thing that is a concrete rule I try to live by and that I think makes love stories better (if that's what you're trying to write): Try not to skip conversations. Avoid writing the words “and then they talked for hours.”  

I mean, you should, of course, write those words sometimes, because no rule is hard and fast, but you should only do it after you've already written them talking for hours and we got to see it. Because. All that work of what people talk about when they're on "dates"? That's where the love story work is. My rule for me is that after the meet-cute, after they decide to spend time with each other, that first night you write for them when their connection sparks: I have to make myself *write* that. I can't step away and just tell you it happened.

I find that really hard. I am always tempted to just handwave and skip to the next good part. But after years of reading and writing love stories, I have decided: That IS the good part. Without it, you don't believe in the couple and you're not as invested. I have to give you that groundwork for who they are as a couple. If I fail in that, I can’t ever win you back, you won’t care about the rest of it, no matter how hot I make the sex scene, or how cute the first kiss scenario is. That stuff has to grow out of the conversation they have that makes them want to kiss in the first place. I need to write that conversation, so you can see it. 

So whenever I want to skip a scene, I want to put a timejump in, I want to just *get us forward,* I always stop and think: Wait. Am I actually skipping the good part? Am I actually skipping the part where they really fall in love? Because people don't really fall in love during a meet-cute. And they don't really fall in love during their first kiss, or their first shag. They fall in love all around those bits. And so my hard and fast rule to myself is to make myself write those. I spend a lot of time thinking, What might these two people talk about? Because if they're going to spend their lifetimes together, I have to *know.* How do they make each other laugh? What interests do they have in common? I often want to just shortcut it -- it’s so very tempting -- but I know that I will be happier with myself if I make myself do it, because by the time I’ve thought that through, I will know these two *so well* that the rest of the fic should be a breeze. 

This is partly why my fics are so long, because I'll be like, "Well, they need to get to x for plot point y," but to get them there I don't write, "Then they went to x," because I make myself write the conversation about going to x. Going to x is not, in my stories, as important as the conversation about going to x is. It is not uncommon for me to sit down to write x and spend a few thousand words writing banter where they never get to x, and that's fine, because the banter was important. I want you to feel like these two people love each other and like each other and want to talk to each other for the rest of their lives. That's what I'm trying to do in my fic.

Another way I think about this is: A movie rom-com never comes close to my favorite fics, because my favorite fics will give me all those falling-in-love moments, and a movie just sticks them in a montage. My motto is: Resist the montage. Of course, this is particular to a certain type of writing you want to achieve. My fics are very long and sprawling and no one's idea of streamlined and efficient. But I'm not going for streamlined and efficient. But if that's what YOU want, then obviously you should write the thing you want. And really, this was all a lot that can be boiled down to "show, don't tell."

If you want an example of this in practice, here’s a scene from “Swan Song” that I’m working on now. They’re on a tour bus going to Orlando, where they’re going to go to Disney World. I could have just time-skipped: Nothing really happens in the story until they get to Disney, frankly. But I thought about what they were doing on the tour bus together, and I decided probably they wrote a song. And I could have just written, “They wrote a song on the way to Orlando,” but instead it turned into this because I decided it was important to get a slice of the way they had all started to fit together as a family: 

Matt proposed a little bit of songwriting for the rest of the drive to Orlando. He thought that everybody needed a distraction, so he pulled out his guitar and he strummed on it and he let the kids make contributions.

“It should go like this,” Hailey said, and sang a melody to him, and he smiled and said, “Okay,” and adjusted what he was playing.

“But then we need words,” said Miranda. “We can’t have a song with no words.”

“Yes, we can,” Kylie said.

“You know what I mean. Dad and Matt don’t have songs with no words.”

“Hmm,” said Matt thoughtfully, plucking out a couple of notes on the guitar.

Patrick, who had been playing with a train with Adam (and also with Bach although mostly he was trying to keep Bach away from the train and Bach interpreted this as playing), said, “Hurtling in a bus on our way to Disney with no plan.”

Matt laughed and played a couple of chords and half-sang, “The children think they’ll do every ride twice if they can.”

“Ha ha,” said Kylie.

“The invention of time travel would be useful in this endeavor,” Patrick sang back at him.

Matt smiled and sang, “But if time travel came—strum—I’d use it to find a way—strum—to get us back together.”

“And there’s our song,” remarked Patrick.

“That’s how it’s done,” Matt said approvingly.

“That’s it?” said Miranda. “We’re done?”

“You are incredibly difficult to impress,” Matt informed her.

“But you didn’t even need time travel,” Hailey said. “You got back together without time travel.”

“Not every song we write is about us,” said Matt.

Patrick gave him a look that Matt ignored.

Kylie said, “Well, that killed twenty minutes. What are we doing for the next four hours?”

“We’ve got to write the rest of it,” Patrick said with a grin.

And by the time they got to Orlando they had a fairly well-polished base of a song that Patrick had taken notes on while Matt played, and when Matt read it over as the bus rumbled off the highway toward their hotel, he reached over and scrawled on top of it, P. Reed, K. Reed, M. Reed, H. Reed, M. Usher.

Patrick smiled.

Miranda said, “What’s that for?”

Matt said, “Writing credit.”

And all three girls grinned.

[vivareverie]

"So, what now?"

That's a question I've had stuck on my mind for at least the past month or so now, regarding the state of my content production and my life as a YouTuber. It's a question that I've somewhat avoided asking myself for the past year, because I somewhat naively thought "Hey, everything'll just work out". Needless to say, that isn't the case, so here I am asking myself this question now.

Before I go any further I'd like to quickly clarify something: This isn't a depression thing. It might sound like a depression thing by the way I'm writing or the overall tone of this post, but I currently have zero mental health issues and require no sympathy in that area. All this is is an introspective look at my state of affairs, looking at what I did wrong attempting to grow my channel, and where to go next.

So, let's start from the start: My channel's success was lightning in a bottle. "Surprise! Your video has gone viral!" Starting with super short meme-y pony toy videos. Well... Admittedly that was at least a few years into my "career" at that point, but all my content before then just silly "Early-teen goofing around"-type videos, once I suddenly actually had an audience to make videos for, I obviously wanted to keep going. What's important about this "Era" is that I had a theme going on. I was the "Pony toy video guy", that was where my initial audience came from, watching my ~10 second long meme-y videos for a short giggle. These videos were very short, very easy to make, and had an audience... So, why did I stop?

Three big reasons: One, money. To make videos making fun of silly pony merch, I had to buy the merch, and, to put things into perspective, that Celestia toy alone was $50. Imagine that but for every single toy in every single video and it adds up quick. The good news is that I liked collecting them, and I had the money, but that was quickly running dry. You might ask "Well, couldn't you reuse toys?", and I did a bit, however...

Two, I hated reusing jokes, and still do to this day. Even back then I'd felt I used the "Celestia toy hits thing" joke 2-3 too many times. I suppose I'd somewhat considered it a running joke- but without putting a twist on it, it was just the same thing happening over and over again. Although "toy abuse" wasn't the entirety of my content back then- I did still try to be creative about it- but nonetheless I kinda felt that well drying up. Plus, finally, there's reason three, and this one is probably a bit obvious...

Three, I wanted to try out animation. It's history time: The reason why even my earlier pony animations looked at least half-decent was because I already knew ahead of time how to use Flash, the program used to animate MLP. This was because I used Flash to learn how to make terrible bodged-together video games, some of which are still online over on Newgrounds and Kongregate (And no, I won't be linking them (Maybe at a later date)), those games, although they were pretty terrible, did inadvertently teach me how to use an animation program, meaning that, when my YouTube channel kinda blew up, I suddenly had an entire genre of media to create with at my disposal.

Thus started "Phase two" of viv, the "Short goofy animation" phase. At the time I didn't think I was gonna ditch the toy video stuff, but after a short while I felt... More satisfied with my animation work. It took me a while to nail down why, but in the end I felt like I was "Undeserving" of the amount of attention I got from my toy content, and felt as if I had to "Earn" the amount of followers I was getting. My toy videos were recorded with terrible audio, a bad camera, very little care for lighting (One video in particular's punchline was ruined because I didn't think about lighting, "Applejack Wins" I believe was the name of that one), however my animations, with the exception of a couple of my early ones having framerate issues, were very "Clean" and felt polished, something I definitely couldn't say about the majority of my toy videos.

Likewise, my standards went up, and they went up fast. I did start off making more silly goofy short stuff, but I kept setting borders for myself making content more difficult to pump out. I wanted to make music videos, but I eventually said I didn't want to make them using pre-established "stuff you could buy on itunes" tracks, worried about potential copyright ramifications. A lot of my short videos were based on clips of songs, and I stopped doing those for the same reason. This was also a very similar (Albeit technically very different) reason why I stopped using show-style puppets, and although I technically could've continued animating show-style if I wanted, my standards had gotten higher still, and I wanted to start making animations using my own "Design" of puppets. Those are the horses you see in the banner of my Patreon page, the doofy ones with the fat noses. This starts what I'd call "Phase three" of viv.

...However, where I went, the majority of fans did not follow.

My earlier content was easy to digest, easy to share around, and easy to click on. Short doofy meme videos. Phase three of viv however- Although the content I was making was finally meeting my stupid standards, it ran into two problems. One, content production got slooooow. The entirety of the first couple of "phase three" years feels like I'd gotten nothing done, despite the, well, "Objectively better" quality videos coming out. I can count how many vivshorts I have on three hands, which is... Not a lot. It's good, and all of them are great, don't get me wrong, but throughout this entire "essay" I've been leaving out one giant big huge factor regarding my content: YouTube itself.

I'm sure you've heard this a million times before, but in case you haven't: YouTube does not promote channels that don't post often. The system likes channels that make long videos, and they like them posted every day.  This is... The complete opposite of the state of my channel, however. Especially these days, where my projects get larger, and the gaps between videos get longer. Unfortunately, the amount of production put into videos does not necessarily translate to views- Or at least not anywhere near the amount it does compared to my older videos.

I did make an attempt to make my channel more active with my Vivcast series, but, although that series has its fans (And I love you all much and you know who you are), I feel like all that did is hurt me during phase three viv. It littered my channel with videos that only a very niche audience would appreciate, and meant that newcomers would have difficulties finding the videos my channel was centered around when visiting my channel, which is, you know... A bad thing. All my Vivcast videos are now unlisted on my channel, but the playlist is still publicly available for those who still want to see them.

The second big reason why I got a huge dropoff of viewers from phase three viv was the change in style, or, more specifically, the lack of using MLP characters at all. I stopped being part of the trend, and went and did my own thing. It gave me more creative freedom, but it was less "Immediately appealing". It's far easier to click on "Rainbow Dash is Excited" than it is "The Second Day of Chrasmas". I've created a bubble of content that only those inside the bubble can enjoy, and this bubble is already inside the bubble of MLP itself, which, as much as I wish it wasn't so, has a huge huge huge stigma around it that to this day has never dwindled. Despite my content being less about the ponies themselves and more about the comedy or the writing or the animation, just the vague connection to MLP is a huge turnoff for potential new viewers who although might not care for MLP might still enjoy the content I may put out.

So, due to this, I have a dwindling viewerbase both because I'm not directly using MLP characters (Meaning the general MLP fans are turned off from my content) and also because I'm using pony characters in the first place (Meaning the non-brony side of the internet won't be looking at my content in the first place). I've inadvertently created a niche inside of a niche because I became complacent. I thought "Hey, if I make videos, the viewers will come, as they always have been", and that was true a few years ago, but I've diverted the train far far off course and not many people still want to stay on the ride.

...Okay, I should mention, no, 10k views per video is not bad in any way. That's really really good and many many many youtubers wish they got a fraction of the viewerbase I got, but it's all relative. In my case, I'd steered my life towards "Hey, I got a good following going, if I grow my following enough I'll be able to make YouTube videos for a living! That'll be super cool!" And that was okay for a long while, while I was "Doing the motions", while I was at college, while I was at university, while I was looking for a job and not finding any for... The entirety of 2017. That's a long time, that's, like, 4+ years at least. But, that whole time, it was fine. I was in no rush, I was in no hurry, no real problems, I'd gotten a little lazy and my content slowed down for it, but I didn't necessarily need the money so I wasn't churning out garbage 24/7 just to make sure I hit a threshold. I thought to myself "Hey, I'll think of something, eventually. 10k views per video isn't enough to make a living off of, but I'll make something that'll go viral again, eventually. It'll be fine."

However, that changed this January.

My new years resolution was to go back to making monthly videos. The Second Day of Chrasmas I made relatively quickly and I'd totally be up for keeping that going, I thought. But my free time was suddenly whisked away, and I was suddenly told I'd be "Working for the dole" for half the week, every week, for at least the next 6 months, or until somebody finally decides to hire me. If that's French to you, essentially that means that, in order to get the money I'm literally living off of, I'm now forced to spend ~15 hours every week doing tiring sweaty exhausting labour work, getting pricked, scratched, sunburned, and bitten, on top of the obligation I already had regarding finding work with the job employment agency I'm hooked up with, oh, and that's not even mentioning that I'm not earning any more doing this work than I was earning the entirety of 2017. essentially meaning that all the free time I'd grown complacent with the past year is now gone in the blink of an eye, and I'm getting nothing out of it.

...So I thought "Okay, 2018 will be the year I finally set my channel back on the right track." Suddenly that's something I can't do. I can't make videos that bring the views back when I literally don't have the time nor energy to make those videos in the first place. The past January shows it, I forgot to make the post-January update Patreon post because of how quickly the month passed by for me. My complacency led me down this track and now I'm paying the price for it.

Okay... So... What now?

This was the question I asked at the start of this post, and what you just read is my story leading up to this question. I don't know if I have the right answer to that question, but I have a few proposals.

One: Cut my ties with pony content entirely. This is a route I'd been intentionally avoiding because I didn't want to be one of "Those guys". You know, the "I'm grown up and more mature now, and therefore I cannot like or associate with pony anymore". That... In itself, I'd personally say is an extremely immature sentiment, cutting ties with who you once were is like denying part of your life existed. Likewise, if this were the route I'd take, I would never deny my association with MLP... However, I would be changing all my branding and future content to not be MLP related, and move into, say, video games stuff instead. That way I can tap into a very large audience of people that didn't exist within my bubble within my bubble. I may be able to grab that "Lightning in a bottle" once more... I wouldn't stop doing Bronies Reacts, though.

Two: ...Keep going. This is the significantly more risky route, but I still have unfinished business in pony content. The two big ones are Trigger Happy Horses and Brony Polka Animated, Trigger Happy Horses being very very well loved and a project I would be very happy to continue if I had the money and time, and Brony Polka Animated being a project I teased... Ah jeez, two years ago. Both projects would require at least several months straight of work to finish/continue, meaning no other content on my channel (Outside of stuff that maybe I could hire other people to edit (Which would imply I had the money to do so, which, I don't)), meaning it'd be super unlikely my channel would grow in any way from it. I'd still be inside my niche of a niche, that double-layered bubble. But... Maybe people would come back if they saw these projects as finished projects? I don't know, and I have no way of knowing- But I expect that may unfortunately not be the case.

Three: Do both... Kinda. Perhaps I could begin by doing new stuff that appeals to a larger audience and completely ignoring those huge projects on my backlog until I've reached a point of equilibrium- And then return to them once I've maintained a stability on my channel. Albeit, that implies I get to that point in the first place, I may be trying to throw darts at this invisible dart board for the rest of my life, meaning those projects go entirely unfinished forever...

...At the end of the day, if I want to keep doing YouTube, I'll want to be earning enough off of it to make it viable. This means consistent revenue, every month, every year. I'm getting a very nice fraction of that off of Patreon right now, and I thank all my patrons wholeheartedly for it, but... I need at the very least quadruple the amount I'm currently earning to get back to even attempting YouTube full time. Single time pledges won't really help either, I either need four times the amount of patrons I have or at least ten times the amount of views on my future videos, and consistently.

This revamp needs to happen. With it I'll be revamping the structure of my Patreon page before the end of the month, including probably removing the $10 and $30 pledge options... Which I feel like is kind of a terrible move because it's the last foothold I really have, I'll be cutting my revenue in half with that move alone, but I don't feel comfortable being pledged those amounts when the content I'm putting out is minimal at best, and entirely against what you were asking for at worst. Although I believe there is an option to pledge a higher amount than the given pledge amount, no rewards come with that, and nobody is obligated to do that for me.

Will this post do anything about my situation? Deep down I kinda hope it will, but really... I don't expect it to, and I've accepted that. You gotta deal with what life gives you, and when life gives you lemons, you make lemonade. That term is thrown around so much it sounds like white noise so I'll turn it into a metaphor that actually means something: If you're given shit, make something out of it. Well, I've been given shit, so here I am figuring out what to sculpt it into.

It's midnight where I live now, so I'll be going to sleep. When I wake up I hope to have the answer to my question.

Good night.

- Viva

[cosmosogler]

hi guys. today cleo woke me up before 5 am. 

i had fallen asleep sometime after 1 so i was Not Happy. mom asked me what i  was doing up and i don’t remember if i actually responded or not. i let the dogs outside. wiley was a hassle to get back inside because it was kind of nice out. then as soon as i closed the door behind me and turned around diogi wanted to go outside, because she hadn’t wanted to go outside ten minutes previously. by the time i herded her over to the grass and blocked her off from wandering around the pool the sun was up. 

i went back to sleep even though my body was awake. i think i had craig dreams but they only made me mildly angry. i was mostly frustrated with the people around him. which has been happening in those dreams the last few times i’ve had them over the last, like, year and a half. 

then cleo woke me up by shrieking at 8, and also my alarm went off for some ungodly reason. i booted everyone else out of my bed and out of my room and closed the door. then cleo spent the next literal hour rattling my door and howling. i didn’t want to hurt her or anything, but i did want to cry. by the time she went downstairs to wake someone else up my alarm went off again. i slept in an extra 45 minutes despite the rattling starting up again sometime in the last 15 minutes of my “nap.” 

i was really too tired to do much today. i caught up on some comics, i watched a lot of not-video-game youtube videos, and i started looking up some resources for group-based activities around town. there was something that looked really cool that meets next tuesday... i think it’s all day, or in the evening, so it won’t conflict with therapy.

i had more pesto leftovers with mom. this time i let her start eating way before me so by the time i sat down her concert of disgusting vomit-inducing mouth noises was almost finished. in hell everyone communicates by chewing with their mouths open. the lip-smacking asmr videos make me want to scream and throw my computer.

i don’t actually, like, go and listen to them or anything. but it’s come up before.

sleep deprivation for this many nights in a row (5 i think? 6?) has reduced my patience level to approximately absolute zero. i was having trouble sleeping all year but the last week has been... something special.

i washed my siblings’ bed sheets today instead of dusting. mom wants me to wash all of the sheets every week. i don’t know if that’s really the most efficient use of our water, considering every advice site i’ve looked at has said something along the lines of “washing your sheets every two weeks is great, but once a month or so is also good.” 

maybe there’s no drawbacks to washing your sheets that often. i just don’t know how fast they wear out.

this is bad, but despite telling oz i was too tired to watch a movie, i sat and watched a really long critique of the bbc sherlock show in the late afternoon. i guess part of it was watching something that long by myself i didn’t have to also talk to anyone... 

about halfway through i paused to greet my brother and father as they had returned from their mud run, feed the dogs, and get some thai food with mom. i think i hurt myself trying to eat food that was too spicy... i felt really sick afterward and my stomach is still kind of grouchy with me. even though i am also hungry again because i wasn’t actually full when i stopped eating, i just couldn’t deal with my nerves disintegrating any more.

i keep getting spicy food hoping i’ll develop a better tolerance. i’ve got enough of one to tell different kinds of spices apart and appreciate different “flavors” of “OH GOD WHY IT’S SO HOT IT HURTS” and not get that sick. but the legendary Thai Hot seems to be forever out of my range. Double Thai Hot exists only in rumors. i saw jay get Double Thai Hot once. he caught on fire. and also cried.

i really love the soups that this place makes, but mom doesn’t like the very unique flavors so we didn’t get any. i wouldn’t have ordered the most spice that the cook is willing to give white people if we had gotten soup haha...

ehh, i boxed the leftovers for later. it’s not as good reheated, but i have a strong need for pahd thai and one sitting isn’t going to satisfy me.

oh yeah! around lunchtime i went out and blasted the dogs with the hose. i didn’t brush them afterward because there are five dogs and i didn’t want anyone to get sat on trying to get my brush’s attention. i didn’t take anyone to the mail box today though because it was over 100 even after the sun went down. even i didn’t want to walk the 2 minutes over to the mailbox.

and i maybe figured out what i’m gonna do with that gold bottle cap. i’m gonna slap it on a shiny magikarp and ship him off on the wonder trade. since it has a... less helpful nature (but not as bad as the other two) and no good ivs it will benefit the most from a gold bottle cap, which boosts all your stats to the maximum. all of the pokemon i am hyper training only need half their stats boosted. it’s not too hard to get 3 regular bottle caps, it just takes a while, especially if i am not using the fishing hole because i can’t be bothered to split my attention between film theory and watching my 3ds screen for a 1-second alert that i have to react to.

tomorrow... i gotta email my apartment complex or see if i can find the bed size myself so we can do the new sheets and stuff. and i gotta contact my relatives about my graduation party near the end of july. i think it’s the 23rd. and maybe i will check out one of the social activities available this side of town if i can find one that meets on sundays and is also interesting and/or small enough that it won’t be overwhelming. i would also like to maybe finish the owl picture since i have not worked on that in basically a whole week. and i gotta get this grody nail polish off my fingernails. it can stay on my toenails though because it still looks nice and is also maybe hiding a crack from when i accidentally stomped on my own toes while walking wiley.

it’s kind of weird but i make a very specific series of noises when i am hurt. i think being angry and then disappointed helps me get over the fact that it hurts a little more quickly. like when eve or diogi step on me with their claws, or when i bang my shin against a corner, or when i step on my toes and crack the nail. or burn my hands because the sink water is extremely hot for some reason.

i think... maybe tomorrow i will also try to do one thing from my to-do jar for the first time in over a week. i’ve done most of the major dusting so i will probably only need to devote about 5 minutes to that tomorrow. or maybe i could wipe down the window shades since the duster doesn’t do anything but kick up the dirt.

oh, also marisol is getting back in tomorrow evening so i can finally return her angle and hre devil. whiskey is a good boy. he likes to be picked up and cuddled with, and he is also the size of a small floppy pillow. and also he doesn’t SCREAM AT 4:30 IN THE MORNING WHICH IS A GREAT PERK!!!

it’s about 10 minutes early, but i think i am going to stop soon and get ready for bed. maybe i should take the dogs outside so cleo will wake me up at 6 instead of before 5.

one thing that just occurred to me is that i didn’t feel as depressed today. i mean yeah i felt extremely lethargic and nauseous and i had a headache for literally the whole day no matter how much water i drank. but i also just didn’t put much time into thinking about how bad i feel. i think that is about as good as it gets for me. i don’t know if that’s healthy or not though. since it might just be holding them in instead of dealing with them? i can’t tell if i am avoiding my bad feelings or successfully coping with them. tomorrow i might make some oatmeal cookies... our mixes and doughs are starting to creep up to their expiration dates. asher is getting back in about a week, so i will bake the snickerdoodles around that time. i will have to check for nuts in the mix though. like “this product was made in a facility that also processes nuts” or whatever.

i think maybe trying to jump back on the “doing things” wagon will help me go forward again. and maybe find a goal, since my first one of “learn better cognitive skills to deal with incoming anxiety” got smashed with the whole “you’re not working hard to get better” thing. i guess doing things isn’t working hard. but it keeps me in a better mood than not doing things.

i have ranked my goals in order from “short-term” to “realistically attainable at some point in the future when broken into smaller steps” to “life goals” to “optional bonus round.” well, i don’t really have a lot of goals to put into any of those categories, but i feel that it will be a useful ladder to use if i do find some goals to have. maybe that will help me draw a picture of “who i want to be” which will give me some kind of vague idea of what i should look like in the future? what philosophies are important to me? how do i want to treat other people? what do i think about these and these issues and what am i going to do about them? 

i will try not to overwhelm myself right away and just kind of pick things up as i walk by them for now. and i will keep doing a few stretches during the day. 

maybe, starting on monday or tuesday, i will put some time into trying to feel invested in my writing again. i still remember where a lot of “following that train of thought” needs to happen. after i get everything down for real this time i can start cutting unnecessary things out and making an actual next draft. that’s always the REALLY hard part for me. 

i think i could do that on tuesday. ask for some input from my therapist in specifically feeling more interested in things i create.

ok, now it is just after 12:25. i have now made full use of my allotted journal time and i feel like i maybe got somewhere with it which is nice. now i just gotta pick up all these beans and play the lottery.