stuff that involves me

A Letter to my Ex Best Friend

Sorry for any grammatical errors. I haven’t edited it yet so I’m sorry in advance lolll. But this is something very personal that I wrote today and hopefully someone else could relate. 


I was going through my memory box today and a lot of stuff that involved you came up.  It brought me back to the good times and I almost texted you but then I remembered that you’re just a stranger now. It’s been a couple months since we last talked. Crazy huh? How in just a year we went from being inseperable to complete strangers. If someone had asked us a year or two ago if we could see our life without each other in it, we would have laughed and said no; Now here we are.

I would be lying if I said I haven’t thought about you or that I didn’t miss you. I do miss you, a lot. So much has happened since we last talked, and I wish I could share it all with you. There has been times where I picked up my phone to text you but then I would remember you’re not that person anymore; And it’s sad because for the longest time it seemed like you’d be that person who stayed in my life for a long while. I miss being close with your family and being able to call your home my home as well. I miss having the privilege of saying I had more than one family. It’s crazy how much can change in a short amount of time.

I hope you don’t hate me for walking away when I did. I hope one day you understand that I had to or else we would have never known just how toxic our friendship had been. There is quite a few things I know I could have done better and shouldn’t have done, same goes for you. We are both to blame for our friendship being as unhealthy as it was. Though it was so unhealthy, we shared a lot of great memories and I’d like to think it was equally good as it was bad.

I’m sorry. I’m sorry we’re not best friends anymore and I’m sorry I had to be the one to walk away. I’m sorry for any pain I caused. I’m sorry I couldn’t be your person anymore. I’m sorry we couldn’t do everything we wanted to. I’m sorry I tried to blame you for our friendship ending. I’m sorry I tried to hate you because damn did I try. I tried so hard and for awhile it worked because hating you and being mad at you was easier than missing you. But I realize that I could never hate you, no matter how mad I am about what happened. I’m sorry this is how it had to end for us, but that’s life for you. Not everything goes the way it should or how you want it to.

But I would like to thank you. Thank you for being my person for as long as you were. Thank you for being patient with me while I learned how to trust another person. Thank you for the memories I will never forget. Thank you for caring enough to break through the walls I had worked so hard to build over the years. Thank you for being the person I could run to for everything and anything. Thank you for being the person I could count on. Thank you for being the person I could confide in without the fear of judgement. Thank you for teaching me how to love and be loved. Thank you for showing me that I can still trust others and be trusted. Thank you for proving to me that people come into our lives for a reason and though they may not stay, the lessons learned are a blessing.

I would like to say I can see us being friends again in the future but I’d only be spitting out false hope. It would never be the same and if I happen to see you one day, I’ll smile and walk away. My heart will break a little and all our memories will hit me like a train but I’ll feel grateful for the time we did have together. Some people aren’t meant to stay in your life forever and unfortunately I learned you are one of those people. They say some people only come into your life to teach you a lesson and leave, but the most important people leave a mark. Well you left a mark and I am thankful for you coming into my life when you did.

I know you may never see this but I needed to get it off my chest. There were a lot of words unsaid and a lot of words I wish I could have said. I guess I’m writing this to get a small sense of closure for myself.

I hope you and your family are doing well. I hope you get everything you want and more in the life you chose for yourself.

You’ll always hold a place in my heart.


Your Ex Best Friend

Craigslist room for rent goes sour.

I was in the process of joining the military, simply waiting for the date to enter service. “It would take at least a month, but no more than a year.” Apartment lease had expired, no month-to-month payment option. Looking for some short-term housing. I was single, worked 2 part time jobs, & had cash in savings. I’m quiet, flexible, simple needs. Just needed the simplest of accommodations. I went to Craig’s List.

Met with a woman who advertised a room for rent. We’ll call her “Jill”. Jill was 20something, single, and came from a wealthy family who bought her this small 3 bedroom house, gave her a nice car, paid her bills. Jill didn’t like to work, she just “sold her art”. She made awful graphic art fan fiction on her PC, probably never sold anything but was completely obsessed with her own work and would talk about it constantly. Jill had pets. So. Many. Pets. Like 20 cats, 4 dogs, a room of birds out of their cages, and several acquariums. A bit weird/slightly skewed version of reality, but seemed nice, had a room available and price was okay. I would pay a flat rate for rent and utilities, provide my own food, and come and go as I please. Neither of us ever signed anything, just details via text and email.

She benefited from my moving in as I had transferred my cable internet connection to her house. Got the modem hooked up and used my own wireless router and let her use it for free. I also have carpentry experience so I helper her repair some door frames and some wood trim in addition to patching up some drywall. Helped her out a lot, all while requesting nothing in return. The first week was nice.

Things fell apart rapidly after that. She became manipulative, started making financial demands. The electric bill was high, I needed to pay “my part”. She had bought enough groceries for both of us without informing me, but now that milk had soured and bread molded I needed to pay for “wasted groceries”. Old busted up door knob on the side of the house broke off while taking out trash, so I needed to buy a new one. Etc…

Individually these didn’t bother me much, but there was a pattern. After just weeks, living expenses had tripled the agreed upon amount. I told her that this couldn’t happen anymore. I would pay the agreed upon amount and buy my own food. Period. This settled things…for a week.

Got back from work. In my room my guitar was gone, and in its place, a bill. A bill from a plumber who had installed a toilet. “My bathroom” needed some work done. Jill had “lost all trust” that I would fulfill “financial obligations” after I “freaked out about money before.” My guitar was hostage, locked in her bedroom until I paid for her toilet upgrade. She literally added a padlock to her bedroom door.

Time to get out. I told her I was moving out the next day (a friend already offered me his guest-room). She could keep the guitar (it was a $100 pawn shop guitar). I wasn’t going to pay to fix her house anymore.

Upon packing things came the modem discussion. She was taking an online class since she now had an internet connection. She would get her own connection “in a few days”. I was angry with her but not yet vengeful. I agreed to let her use it until my connection got transferred.

A week later, called Jill the day before the cable transfer. She said she would drop off the equipment, oddly, only while I was at work. I texted a reminder, “please don’t forget to drop off modem”, and she responded, “left it in a bag outside your front door”. Weird, but whatever. I get home that night. No bag. No modem. I text, “did you leave it at the right house? can’t find it”, she responds, “yes”.

Cable got installed, still no modem. It’ll cost me if I don’t turn in the old one. Now I’m vengeful. She’s extorted money, I’ve been nothing but helpful and considerate, she’s stolen my things, now she’s probably lying and stealing more things - which will cost even more money.

Jill took a pottery class on Thursdays, out of the house for 2 hours. Her front door had a combination keypad for entry instead of keys. She claimed she would change the combo when I left, but probably didn’t know how to do that. Waited until after the time she left. Drove past. No one home. Parked a block away, walked to front door, entered the code. Still works. Straight to her bedroom. Not padlocked anymore. Look, there’s my router and modem, right where they shouldn’t be because they’re in a bag outside my friend’s place. Weird. Grab my modem & router, grab my guitar, insert a spare old burned admin copy of Win'98 into her cdrom, boot to CD, set it to work formatting her hard drive. She can complete Win'98 installation later, complained about Vista anyway. Probably won’t be able to retrieve her “art” and homework.

Back in my car within 5 minutes, at my friend’s place 10 minutes later. Jill’s pottery class still had another hour. I texted, “finally found the modem, bag must’ve blown into the bushes! Thanks for dropping it off! :D” I love to imagine whatever flurry of emotions she must have experienced at that moment…

Called me in a frantic rage 30 minutes later. “YOU STOLE FROM ME!!!” “What?? Jill…What are you talking about?” “YOU BROKE INTO MY HOUSE AND STOLE FROM ME!!!” “Wait…someone broke into the house?? I’m sorry, I don’t know anything about that… What did they take?” Her remarkable psychological gymnast skills. Walks right up to the ledge of almost admitting that she lied to me and stole my things (after-all, such an admission was required for her version of events to make any sense at all) and then psychologically-backflips away. She couldn’t do it. Her story was not compatible with reality. All she could muster was rage and empty threats and that phone call was the last time I ever heard from her. Honestly, at that point the stuff and the money involved was worth less to me than the fact that she had so much rage but couldn’t do anything about it. It brought me a little joy. The strangest part is that she never mentioned her computer at all…

Post-Blackout Thoughts: Why Revenge Isn’t Sweet

Hello everyone! I know it’s already July 16, a day after the end of the Miraculous Blackout. First, I just wanted to say, thank you everyone for your patience and your support in this movement (unless you sent a bunch of hateful messages to some accounts and mine, then I don’t know what to say to that).

I was glad to hear that some of you learned a lot from our blackout, including differences with reblogs and reposts, the art theft struggle, and other aspects of the issue. From the very beginning, my sole purpose for this blackout was never to punish the others for wrongdoing or to change society. It was a form of education and raising awareness. And I’m glad it has achieved its purpose, at least to a degree.

But today in church, I was reminded of an emotion that many of us have experienced even before this blackout had even began, whether creator or otherwise: Anger.

Now don’t get me wrong. Content creators are allowed to be angry over their stuff getting stolen. I mean, it’s upsetting. It causes grief, it causes problems for people. And on the flip side, people are allowed to feel wronged if their stuff was taken down. However, I was reminded-just today in fact-that despite such emotions, we need to learn to check ourselves.

Something I observed during the blackout was that a lot of us had the tendency to go up and arms over belligerent reposters or vice versa. I can think of at least one or two cases where I personally said “let me fight them” when I found out that a fellow artist was being harassed over a copyright takedown. And to a majority of you, yes we had every right to think such thoughts. But as a follower of Jesus Christ, I felt off about it afterward. Then, in church today, I was reminded why.

In Romans 12:19, it says: Do not take revenge, my dear friends, but leave room for God’s wrath, for it is written: “It is mine to avenge; I will repay,” says the Lord.”

In 1 Corinthians 4:5, it says: “Therefore judge nothing before the appointed time; wait until the Lord comes. He will bring to light what is hidden in darkness and will expose the motives of the heart. At that time each will receive their praise from God.”

If you simply Googled “What the Bible says about revenge”, you will find plenty of verses and passages all pointing to generally the same idea: “Do not take revenge”. “Let go of your anger, and let God deal with it”. “Turn the other cheek.

Don’t get me wrong. There is a difference between acting/thinking in vengeance and acting within legal rights. Creators have every right to have their content taken down because there are rules and regulations set to protect their content. It is when we start falling under the malicious “eye for an eye” mentality that things start to get very messy. I have seen too many unnecessary fights happen because no one backs down or compromises, and one or both get angry. It becomes much more difficult.

But this is something I had to face when I recently took down videos on Youtube containing copyright material that belonged to me. A funny thing about Youtube is that after three strikes, an account is set for termination in seven days since the third strike. For awhile, I ignored these terms, but then I began to think about how it affected the account owner. I saw how angry and desperate these Youtube account owners could get, from incessant emails to hacking threats. It was heartbreaking to say the least. 

I admit, when it comes to these things, the content creators do have the upper-hand regarding negotiations over the use of their work. But it is not undeserved. They made the content, they trained for it, they practiced, they spent money to learn the skills (sometimes they even cried and bled and sweat for it). Simply taking their content without so much as getting permission wrongly invalidates everything they’d done to come to that point in skill, in order for some other person to simply make a quick buck and/or gain a number of followers. So you can see why many creators have not even tried to sympathize with the perpetrators. Like I had said in a previous post, consuming all of this content is considered a privilege. Not a right.

Nonetheless, I personally think that we don’t need to cause any more unnecessary harm to each other. Like the title says, revenge isn’t sweet. Sure, you may beg to differ, especially if you uphold different beliefs than I do, but I still think it saves both sides a lot of trouble when one learns to back down, swallow their pride and be the bigger person

But here is my afterthought to that last one: If we step back, away from that pride stuff and take a look at both sides in this, who is technically in the legal right to control such distribution of works? You, the content creator who put out all that labour into your work? Or, you, the one who saw their work, thought it was cute/worth dubbing/worth earning from and decided to separately upload and/or sell it without even asking for the creator’s permission?

Think about that first before using my words for your argument. Because there is a right answer there.

P.S. This is exactly the reason why I try to always ask that you guys NEVER harass the reposter whenever I post their Instagram/Youtube online in order to notify other creators whose rights were infringed (which I haven’t done in awhile actually). 

Wow look at that, I wrote something!!! This is some quality sick Taako from The Adventure Zone bc i was really feeling it. There aren’t any spoilers for nearer episodes that have to do with plot but the general information is there? Idk I’ve never written for TAZ before so be patient but this turned into a 2000 word drabble so i hope someone enjoys it!

Taako knew it was going to be a shit day as soon as he dragged himself out of his bedroom. He’s got a bone deep exhaustion that no amount of meditation can shake and an aching that had set in all over his body. He blamed it on all of the shitty hand to hand training he’d been forced to do, lately, despite the fact that yesterday he’d used magic to get out of it, again.

Fuck them, he thought, I’m a fucking wizard, I don’t need hand to hand combat.

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anonymous asked:

I find it very telling that H8 later threatened Jane Seymour by implying Anne's downfall was due to her meddling in politics and not the more personal crimes she was put on trial for. Do you think this is the slip of a guilty conscience or that Henry was just trying to save face by this time?

yeah, it’s very interesting. i know a lot of people disagree (and i’m not saying he wasn’t cruel before the accident), but i really do think that jousting accident in 1536 caused some possible…damage to him. i think after it he was more paranoid than he had been before. he had had an accident before that (in the 1520s, iirc) that left him with frequent migraines and headaches for years after, so i think it’s possible the 1536 accident exacerbated the effects of the former as well.

the theory that it was because of her involvement in politics partially is one ives supports (although he thinks cromwell played a bigger hand in it than henry), as well as gareth russell (he believes she was born in 1507, and that given that; her age suggests something more sinister than that she was getting near too old for childbearing):  

“At 28, Anne Boleyn was still undeniably in her childbearing years. Yes, she would have been at the tail-end of them by Tudor standards, but she would have had at least four or five more years before she was considered infertile, and so the idea that it was just her “failure” to produce a son which led to her death in 1536 suddenly becomes a good deal less convincing and the idea that it was her husband who orchestrated her monstrously unfair death becomes infinitely more likely.”

it could have just been a ‘don’t forget you could be replaced’; i’m honestly not sure. here’s what the book i got it from says. 

‘A claim that Anne had died for meddling too much with state affairs would serve as a warming to Jane to cease and desist. Of course, the claim would not actually mean the meddling with affairs of state was the reason for Anne’s execution. Yet Henry’s bringing it up when Jane asked him to restore the abbeys would not have been accidental, for it now can be said that Anne was opposed to the despoiling of the religious houses.’

it’s hard to know what a historic figure felt, but there a few things that may suggest guilt:  by Good Friday 1539, “’he was able to take part in that strange pre-Reformation liturgical rite of ‘crawling to the cross’’”, despite the significant pain and injuries he was suffering from at the time (but then, this could mean nothing– one of the deepest ironies about him creating the church of england is that he was a deeply religious man, devoted enough to the church to be named ‘defender of the faith’, even). he kept items of anne’s in his inventory, and she was referred to as ‘the late quene’ in documentation

and before his last days, there was this exchange:

It was thought also imperative that a man have time to prepare his soul and so Sir Anthony Denny undertook the perilous task of warning his master that ‘in man’s judgement, he was not like to live’ and should remember his sins, ‘as becometh every good Christian man to do’. Henry responded by saying that he believed that Christ in all His mercy would ‘pardon me all my sins, yea, though they were greater than can be’”

sometimes i find myself wondering if some of his actions in his nadir years were influenced not only by dynastic pride but also possibly masochism: 

‘In March 1544, the ulcers on Henry’s legs flared up yet again, confining him to bed with a fever. The royal doctors urged him not to personally lead the 42,000 English troops then being assembled for the Anglo-Spanish invasion of France and his ministers flapped about in the same cause, ever fearful of provoking another of the king’s rages….. The practical and realistic Chapuys urged his imperial master to intervene to persuade Henry against taking to the field of battle, with all the discomforts and inconveniences of campaigning. The emperor sent a special envoy who ‘found Henry so determined upon the voyage that he dared not try to dissuade him’. Once again, with a grim fortitude, Henry recovered and in early June wrote to his ally, promising that he was sufficiently well to embark for Calais ‘where he would resolve whether to go further’. ’ 

of cromwell henry said: ‘on light pretexts, by false accusations, they made me put to death the most faithful servant i ever had.’ how does this tie in w/ anne, i wonder? was cromwell the orchestrator of her downfall, acting as part of a conservative faction, with no influence from henry, as ives suggests? or was he behaving as henry’s ‘most faithful servant’ by orchestrating her downfall at his command?

anyway, sorry. that’s more questions than answers. back to your question: i don’t think it was a slip of a guilty conscience. what i think this encounter demonstrates is really, a stark contrast: he honestly respected anne’s opinions during both their courtship and marriage (up till 1536, or earlier, perhaps) and she influenced him greatly. he more than let her have a say, she was actively involved in architecture and design of certain houses, and an incredibly active queen, politically and otherwise– he would let his current wife stick to her sphere (domestic, her ladies, etc.). he was done, basically, with having women/his spouse ‘meddle in his affairs’.  

D Brothers: The Surprisingly Happy Nightmare

the artist and i have different ideas on what signifies as happiness…

so im finally starting to carve through a bit of the stuff ive been going through…still not super comfortable talking about it publicly but i will be looking for commissions and stuff pretty soon here, money is a Situation atm

BUT the point is im starting to really get through it i think and ive been feeling happier and more productive than i have been all year and i feel like im becoming a real person again and im just. grateful.

anonymous asked:

I'd really love to read that ino shika saku smut story you may or may not have listed as one of your tags in a kakasaku fic XD ?

hands to [insert action here]

My dear nonny, I am so very sorry this took so long! I laughed and laughed and laughed when I got this request, and I wanted to do it justice.

This fic takes place in an ambiguously non-canon universe, post Fourth War. Just a heads up that the kiddos are ~18-19. The prompt is in reference to the tags from with friends like these, which I wrote for kakasaku week 2016, but you absolutely in no way need to have read that for this to make sense (in fact, if you read that first, be prepared for tone whiplash).

Originally, I’d intended this to just be silly smut. That is not what this turned into in the least. Instead it’s about 5,000 words of id fic; rambling nonsense and character study and characters who love so much it breaks them.

The evening has spun down, leaving Ino’s apartment a mess of empty bottles and demolished food stuffs. Naruto walked Hinata back to the Hyūga compound hours ago, with Lee dragging a giggling Tenten away soon after with a reminder that the two of them have a mission in the morning. When the rest of them started to make noise about getting everyone else home for the night, they’d all looked up to find Shino had disappeared at some point, presumably before he could be wrangled into managing Kiba. Chōji had offered to help Akamaru make sure a very drunk Kiba doesn’t fall asleep in a doorway (again), since the Inuzuka’s apartment is on his way. Which means that Sakura and Shikamaru are stuck on clean-up duty.

It’s too bad Sai is out of the Village at the moment; he’s read so many books on proper etiquette that he always insists on helping whomever’s turn it is to host their regular get-togethers clean up, meaning that Sakura can usually duck out with a wave.

Ah, teammates. So useful.

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Mob Psycho 100 Fanfiction Masterpost: Dad Reigen Edition

Works that focus on Reigen acting as a mentor/dad to Mob and/or the other kids. Good for when you’re having a rough day and just want to read something heartwarming. Almost all of these are one shots, and a lot of them focus on Mob and Reigen’s early relationship. They’re adorable. 

There are two multichapter fics, @bananacreamphi​‘s Love the Bomb is a fully fledged dystopian AU that also has Reigen basically adopting Mob, which is why I put it here and not under AUs. On Glass Shoulders just got a surprise update so now it’s two chapters. 

These are all for either teen and up or general audiences. I wish this wasn’t something that I feel like I need to emphasize but there is NO ped//ophi///lia in these works. 

If you feel like there is a work that belongs on this list that isn’t on it, please let me know. If there a is work that involves non-con or other gross stuff please let me know because then it doesn’t belong on this list. If there is a work on this list that makes you uncomfortable for any reason, please let me know and I’ll take it off the list.

Featuring sukikobold, idolatry, NotHereForIt, and many other great authors. Remember to leave comments and kudos!

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so, I started this a few months ago and just sorta… forgot about it 

No police got any work done for a solid ten years of film unless there was sax music in the background. The sax music starts almost right away in Beverly Hills Cop. And it never ends in the Lethal Weapon series. Also 48 Hours. Also Tango & Cash. Also K-9. Also Turner & Hooch. There’s just a buttload of sax going on and how could there not be? Remember that sax player from The Lost Boys, which I know isn’t a cop movie but more than adequately displays the sheer animal magnetism of the mighty sax with that slimy fellow? Just on stage buttfucking that saxophone in the moonlight while crowds of onlookers feel their gonads swell. That guy cemented sax as the coolest thing since someone sliced bread while a greasy, shirtless man buttfucked a sax in the background. Know what happens if you add a little ham and spicy mustard to that equation? Greasy Sax Buttfuck And Ham Sandwich. Delicious.

Contrast that with any cop movie in the last decade. Ride Along is heavy on bass and drums, not a damn sax chord to be heard though it does open with some Busta Rhymes about which I can’t complain at all, because if I could get Busta Rhymes to just follow me and narrate my day, I’d be a pretty happy guy. I’d also do way more stuff that involves me strutting. Cop Out, The Heat, 21 Jump Street, Let’s Be Cops; if any of them are using saxophones, they’re keeping that shit super subtle.

Some have argued that this is just a change in the musical landscape. Huey Lewis was awfully popular in the ‘80s, you don’t hear him anymore do you? To that I say, shut up.

4 Ways Modern Filmmaking Has Destroyed Buddy Cop Films

so I’m pretty sure the kinkiest thing an elf can do in the bedroom is ‘telling lies on purpose’ or as we humans call it ‘roleplay’


“You would rather do this with the gardener?” said Fingon, looking distressed.

“No!” said Maedhros. “I only want it with you, but you behaving as if… as if you were the gardener.”

“But I’m not the gardener.”

“I know you’re not the - that’s the point, I - oh, never mind.”

“I’m not even very good at gardening,” said Fingon. “Though I will learn, if it pleases you! I would beg lessons from Yavanna herself.” He looked determined.

“You don’t need to actually do any gardening!” Maedhros said. “Just… say you do. Say you’re the new gardener and you saw me and decided you wanted to -”

“You want me to lie?” said Fingon, sounding scandalised, but then he looked thoughtful. “But you’d know I was lying the whole time.”

“Yes,” said Maedhros. “That’s the idea.”

“So I could say anything at all. Anything I wanted. I’m the new gardener,” Fingon tried. “I’m the new gardener and my name is… Nognif.”


Okay I have never in recent years felt as comfortable in my own skin as I did today.  I have a garden plot provided by the developmental disability agency.  I’m growing food plants there, to make soups out of for my J-tube, everything goes well.  Today I went there with a staff person – the only one not allowed to do medical stuff, with the express purpose of getting me involved in activities that aren’t medical in nature, since so much of my life is taken up by medical issues.  So we can do anything from organizing the apartment to gardening.  I don’t get a lot of time with this guy but the time I do get is amazing.  So anyway…

We weeded about a quarter of the plot (which is one of the smallest plots in the whole garden yet is actually quite huge, and was covered in weeds the whole way over).  Then we planted hot peppers (jalapeño and hot portugal), squash (zucchini and yellow), and eggplant, and left some seed potatoes out to sit for awhile before they get planted.  We also discovered, and weeded around, what we think is delicata squash left there by a staff person who had too many of them.

All of the vegetables were looking kind of sad and droopy, so we watered them and we’re hoping the water and sun will both perk them up again.  At least some of them.  We’re not expecting everything to survive or turn out great, but you can’t grow any food without risking that.

What does survive, will be far less expensive than the grocery store, that’s for sure. Even the farmer’s markets around here don’t have good prices.  In fact they’re more expensive than usual.  

(Are farmer’s markets a thing that can gentrify?  Because in California, I went to farmer’s markets that were basically roadside stands filled with great vegetables and fruits, and sometimes a few other foods, at an extremely low cost.  Many people who worked on the farms – meaning poor and working-class people – shopped there.  Not a lot of middle-class or rich people did, even though I think the food was great by anyone’s taste.  I swear the local farmer’s market around here is basically an upscale food fair.  And the food selection and quantity isn’t even all that wonderful.)

Anyway, this seriously felt amazing to do this.  Understand that I’m very prone, from a combination of physiology, circumstance, and medication side-effects, to heat exhaustion, sunburn, dehydration, and other problems related to being out there in that place.  There was also grass everywhere – we weren’t on it, but that didn’t matter to my allergies, where grass and cats are the most severe airborne allergies I have – so my nose was constantly running despite loading up on Benadryl.  And I had to crawl around on the ground because I’m too weak to get up off the ground on my own.(1)  I also had balance problems so had to sit in some weird positions.  So none of this was physically easy, and I basically worked to the limits of what is safe for me, and possibly a little beyond those limits.

But the main point is that despite all of those things put together, I felt amazing. I felt at home.  I felt like I was connecting to something I hadn’t even realized I’d lost connection with.  I felt like I was interacting on a very deep way with the dirt and the plants and all the things living in the dirt.  I ended up, of course, covered in dirt.  That’s what happens when you have to crawl around on your hands and knees or scoot around on your butt to weed a large area as efficiently as possible.  But that really didn’t matte to me.  This was like when I used to sit around in the redwoods outside my apartment stacking rocks on myself and feeling like the rocks told me I had a place in the world.  Everything around me as we did this, told me I had a very precise place in the world and right now that place was right here doing exactly what I was doing – weeding and digging holes for new plants, and watering the plants.

I also got watered myself. Something not always understood by people who get their water by drinking it by mouth:  It doesn’t matter how water gets into your body, as long as your body absorbs the water properly.  I hydrate by putting water straight into my intestines through a J-tube with a big syringe.  I have in the past hydrated by having water (or rather, a rehydrating mixture of things designed for use in veins) put into an IV line or a chest port, straight into my bloodstream.  Regardless of how you put it in, the sensation of getting a nice large drink of cool water feels exactly the same kind of satisfying.  Just like putting blenderized vegetables into my J-tube and digesting them feels pleasant and satisfying even without tasting them.  Anyway, right then, water completely hit the spot.

Someone who saw the pictures was amazed – he said I looked completely natural in this setting, in a way I don’t in most.  I probably looked very similar to I look in the redwoods.  And I don’t know how that is, but it’s a very similar feeling of being exactly where I’m supposed to be, and exactly where home is.  And being comfortable in my own skin in a way that isn’t usually achievable.  I felt like I could have grown straight out of the ground like the plants, and sat there and photosynthesized my food or something.  Except I have skin, not leave, so 70 SPF sunblock was a necessity.  I hope maybe these very brief exposures to the sun will result in my skin going back to a normal level of tan – not tanned, just not “I’ve been indoors for over 10 years to the point I can’t handle sunlight even though I used to have practically burn-proof skin” pasty.

But he said one thing that bothered me on a certain level.  He said “Wow, you look totally natural,” and then, after pausing to think, he said, “Well except for that feeding tube hanging off you all the time.”

Feeding tubes are natural in the exact same way that agriculture is natural.  Both are examples of things that don’t just happen on their own, but humans have created them in order to improve our ability to interact with our environments and survive despite the limitations of a human body.  Tube feeding has been around in one form or another since at least Ancient Egypt (that’s what’s documented, anyway), but the kind of tube feeding I do only has existed since the twentieth century with surgery becoming safer through anesthesia and antibiotics.  But all of these things are humans adapting to our environment using the skills nature has given us.  Tube feeding is as natural as beaver dams.

All of which gets me into a problem I encounter a lot:  I really like to talk to and read things by people who greatly value a lot of things I value.  Including growing your own food, and stuff that’s traditionally considered “nature” and “outdoorsy” stuff.  But such people are more likely than average to have extreme biases against feeding tubes, to the point of describing people like me (who depend on medical implants of many kinds in order to survive) as unnatural and creepy, the product of medical science gone too far, in a world that doesn’t want to deal with or acknowledge the natural world, where people like me would die and that would be okay.  There’s little more natural about humans than our instinct to survive, and to use our best skills as a species to do just that.  Our best skills include communication, collaboration, technology, inventing and designing and making new things, passing on our knowledge and skills to future generations, and a strong desire to survive even in extreme circumstances.  These skills are not unique to humans, but the precise way they play out in humans is.  And they are very, very natural.  And they result in things like feeding tubes.  

Because it is our nature as humans to help each other survive, to want to survive, and we have been helping severely disabled people(2) survive since prehistoric times, the times when many modern-day “nature people” assume we’d all have just died.  But it has always been in our nature to help each other, and if that meant carrying people around and pre-chewing their food all the way into what at that time would have been not only adulthood but old age, that’s what it meant.  It’s some of our current societies’ trends towards total selfishness that has caused some of us to assume that every prehistoric society would always leave such people to fend for themselves and die.  

I wouldn’t be alive in such prehistoric societies.  I would have died a long time ago.  They simply did not have the technology to keep someone with my medical issues alive.  But – depending upon the society of course, they weren’t all the same – it wouldn’t necessarily be through lack of trying.  There’s quite a chance that I would have been valued in life and mourned in death in a way that I might not be in modern-day America (or not likely for the same reasons, even if I am).

I’m also reminded that the only job I ever had in my life was on a ranch, doing work of a different sort but similarly physical and outdoors and dealing with the raw materials of life.  I got paid minimum wage to do things ranging from animal care to shoveling manure and moving it in wheelbarrows to painting fences and barns to cleaning up the property.  This was in a residential facility and the job was a work training program that taught us how to fill out time cards and the like.  I was very proud of my work.  I wish that I was able to do this kind of work now.  It’s one thing to spend a short amount of time doing something like this, but my body would crap out in five different ways long before I spent enough time doing something like this to get paid anything for it.(3)

But even though today I pushed myself to my limits and slightly beyond them, what I’m trying to get at is, this type of thing is what has always come the most easily to me, severe physical limitations(4) notwithstanding.  And although I had a huge amount of help with every part of the process, including just standing up again off the ground, it was still an amazing experience and brought back a lot of very primal, early memories of things I used to do all the time and felt actually competent at.

So overall this is a wonderful experience.  Pardon the fact that I had to stop and talk about ableism, but that’s part of my life’s reality as well.

(1) Yes, too weak, not too fat.  I could get off the ground while fatter than this, before congenital myasthenia and complications thereof got worse and made it impossible for me to stand up from the ground without bracing on something, and sometimes even then.

(2) By any time’s measure of such things – theirs or ours.

(3) Please don’t respond by telling me ways I could work.  I have so many disabilities piled on top of each other, that options that were just barely open to me as a teen became firmly closed by adulthood and have only gotten worse since there.  I don’t think less of myself because I can’t work, so please don’t assume that I’m just putting myself down or selling myself short.  I just know better than to put myself in a situation where I would end up in the emergency room long before I worked long or hard enough to get a paycheck that wouldn’t even support me.

(4) Congenital myasthenic syndrome, hypermobility syndrome, gastroparesis, osteoporosis, and secondary (pituitary) adrenal insufficiency make quite a potent cocktail of “I can’t handle hard physical labor for more than a ridiculously short period of time without turning into a quivering puddle”, without even getting into the specifics of autonomic problems and heat regulation and all kinds of other things.  Today I cam very close to turning into a puddle, I stopped myself just in time to barely get back to the car – with help – and get water into my tube andrlst for awhile.  I’m still feeling the effects hours later.  I got lucky.


@texourica i told u id make one

here is my demonsona they are the void and they like science and stuff even tho they are made of nothing but void and eyeballs

they have poor eyesight actually and can only use heir “hands” when theyre contained in gloves. their legs? they have none just the forever shifting blob of eyes. they can shapeshift but not into other things just like….stretch and shift their form in blobby ways

also they like slime and probably has a slime shop and never shows their face bc theyre too scary. people think theyre creepy but theyre actually a nervous wreck 

the green cube is my friend kat’s demonsona theyre a cube also with teeth and they like candies

Isaac and Brett Catch Up: The Morning After


Originally posted by couplenotes

          I woke up with a smile on my face as I laid on Isaac’s bed. I turn to feel for Isaac and all I felt were bed sheets underneath my hand. Slowly opening my eyes, I see no one next to me and the sunlight coming through the window. Hearing a loud bang downstairs, I run downstairs to see Isaac with multiple pots and pans everywhere and food all over his clothes. “Isaac, what are you doing?” I ask walking up to him. He sighs and put down the pan in his hand,” I was trying to make you breakfast and bring up to you in bed but obviously failed.” I smiled and giggled,” You are so cute but you don’t have to make me breakfast last night was perfect enough.” He smirks and wraps his arms around me,” Last night was perfect and I am so happy that it was with you.” Smiling up at him I press my lips to his. “I am too.”


Originally posted by lovershub

           I drew circles on Brett’s chest as I thought about how amazing last night was. I couldn’t smile at the thought of how last night signified such an important part of our relationship. “What’s got you smiling so much?” I hear Brett ask. I lift my head onto his chest, “Just thinking about stuff.” “Does it involve me?” I giggle and shake my head,” Maybe.” He wraps his arms tighter around me as he presses a kiss against the crown of my head. “So, what do you want to do today?” He asks. I think about it and all I really wanted to do was lay in bed with him watching Netflix. “Let’s watch Netflix all day.” He chuckles,” Okay. It’s your day so we’ll do whatever you want.” I smile against his chest as I believed my life couldn’t get any better but it just did.

 The final Isaac and Brett Catch Up preference yay! Thank you guys for enjoying these and I am sorry this one is so short. A new preference with Scott, Stiles, Derek, Liam, Isaac, and Brett will be posted on Sunday as I am busy Friday and Saturday, So get ready!

love, Taylor


Summary: After a particularly life threatening mission, you address the question posed to you smack in the middle of the fray. 

Warnings: fluff, hints at smut, I don’t know just read it :)


He did not mean it; he could not.

Pre-mission had consisted of stoic glances and unspoken goodbyes in case one of your teammates did not return. Post the success of not being slaughtered is when you flipped a coin with Natasha to see who got to shower first. Wanda claimed it while the two of you debated. Vision did not require one and Steve did not seem to sweat, leaving the other bathroom available for Sam to jump.

You grumbled out a complaint and went to go join James Rhodes on the uncomfortable grey couch to wait out your turn and muddle through the slippery middle bits of the day. The thought of calling cut and demanding a director’s rewrite was tempting until you remembered this was anything but a movie.

“Next time you guys leave me to man the base of operations, how about charging the laptop first?” Rhodes complained.

“I’m the tech girl. I know that. I can charge things with my mind from clear across a room if I’m in the mood. I can’t, of course, but that would be nice, hu? Talk to Grandpa Steve. He’s the one that forgets that cell phones can’t actually function on the power of his will,” you retorted.

“I don’t see how you do it every time. I stay behind once and I almost lose my goddamn mind.”

“Steve said they needed me to hack the building from the field.” You shrugged. “He keeps me employed, so I went.”

“Took two bullets to the vest,” he said.

“Got the bruises to match. I will gladly tap you back in the field team.”

You spotted Sam strolling across the balcony then. The towel wrapped around his waist was purposefully situated indecently low and held on only by your last prayer. The smirk thrown down at you was meant as a part of the same tactic—distract you from what he had blurted only hours before, moments before the gunfire opened up.

You stood, shower forgotten.

“Yeah, you should handle that,” Rhodes called.

When you reeled to convey your astonishment he just waved you off. “Those headsets work both ways. Heard everything. I wouldn’t say yes, but I’m also not dating him.”

You raised onto your toes, convincing yourself to go after him, to look the gift horse straight in his big ass mouth.

Two dozen stairs and a few hallways later you were letting yourself into your favorite idiot’s room. Sam did not look up from digging around his dirty laundry hamper for his favorite t-shirt.

“Sam,” you started.

He straightened, deciding against the wrinkled shirt after a sniff. “I get how you could have interpreted what I said one way but I really meant…”

“How was I supposed to interpret, ‘Marry me?’” you demanded.

“As anything but that.”

“You didn’t mean it then?”

“I didn’t not…”

“Ok, then I don’t not want to marry you.”

He blinked.

“I—what?” his brash cover up tactics were discarded as he processed your words. A hand ran over his hair then down his face as he surveyed your for any flaring yellow lights of doubt. “You’re not running for the hills? We’ve only been dating a few months. We haven’t even talked about it. And I talk a lot of shit, especially when there’s adrenaline and life threatening stuff involved.”

“Sounds an awful lot like you’re trying to talk me out of this. Do you want to or not?”

He pursed his lips, walking over to wrench back his dresser drawer. You sighed, tugging at your hair and striding up behind him to touch his shoulders. He straightened, leaning into you. You kissed the base of his neck, looping your arms around his firm stomach to lock them together for a quiet moment. He sighed, shifting to press a velvet box into your hands.

He spun around as you pulled it between your bodies, tracing over the square borders, knowing what lay inside.

“It was my grandma’s. Asked my mom for it last month.”

You glanced up, the love in your heart mirrored in the familiar depths of his clear brown eyes. “I saw it last week,” you admitted.

He laughed, leaning his forehead against yours, feathering a kiss over your nose. “I love you. We can put it back up and you don’t have to answer tonight.”

“I know my answer. Are you sure you’re asking, Samuel?”

His mouth curved up, head tilting to further the amused gesture. “Oh, gorgeous, oh you think I’d ever let you get away from me. That’s cute. Now put the ring on or don’t. Either way, I’m gonna need to lay back on my bed and prove to you just how sure I am.”

A tug removed your shirt, a push sent your pants and panties away. He aided the process by undoing the snap or your bra and you let it slide to the ground. You watched his face while you placed the shimmering ring on your finger—affection and joy set a warm glow to his skin.

As you arranged yourself under the sheets, you admired the sizeable diamond. “It’s big, kind of heavy,” you teased.

“Big has never seemed to bother you before woman.” His towel was gone and he was crawling over you, taking your left hand and pressing a firm kiss over it.

“I don’t get to shower first?”

“You’ll just get sweaty anyway. We’ll do a group one afterwards.” He leaned down to press a kiss to your throat, breathing in the damp skin he sought to further distress.

You traced hands over the biceps that pinned you down, enjoying the familiar way his weight sunk you into the mattress just enough to be caressed by the sheets. You kicked them down and he caught them and pulled them to form a tent over you as was your routine to shut out everything else in the compound. The light cast an orange glow as the scene started rolling.