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icaruspendragon · 2 months

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i hope this isn't too personal of a question (and if it is that's totally cool, i was literally just curious as a fellow aspec person), but i was wondering what some of your thoughts were about being aspec, like it's totally cool if your thoughts were just the post you reblogged!!! that's honestly still putting into words a bit a similar way i figured out i was aspec, but i know you seem to have really interesting takes on things/conclusions you've realized about things a lot of the time and so i was just curious what thoughts were turning around your head about being aspec

I don't mind talking about it at all!

So for me sex is like this perfunctory, borderline tedious thing. I almost want to call it a chore, but that has negative connotations that don't exactly match up with how I feel about it. It's like something on a to do list, or like running an errand.

Think of it this way: For me, having sex is akin to going to the pharmacy. Actually, it's more like being asked to go for someone else. It's not on my list of things I enjoy doing and there are other things I would rather do, but I don't mind going if someone asks me to. But once in a blue moon I do actually want to go because I want candy or a Juneberry Red Bull or some shit like that and Walgreens happens to be nearby.

Media builds up sex to be this incredible and awesome and amazing thing that everyone wants to have, which is at odds with the widely held societal belief that it's uncouth to discuss sex openly with others. So if media says "yes you should want this" and society says "but you shouldn't talk about it with others because it's an incredibly private act" it makes it kinda difficult when you don't feel the way you're "supposed to." And then when you do talk about how you don't feel that way, people say there's something wrong with you or that you haven't found the right person or that maybe you need to change things up in the bedroom or that you need to go to a doctor because it's gotta be a hormonal imbalance or something. The list really does go on and on.

And so many of my expectations surrounding sex were informed by fanfic where I read, in detail, about how good it was supposed to feel. About all the different ways it could feel good.

I wanted it to be like that for me, for it to be as good as I had read and seen and heard others talk about, so I kept on trying. And sometimes I enjoyed it. Not E rated fanfic enjoyed it, but it was nice. Nice in the same way a cup of tea is nice, but nice nonetheless.

But most of the time it was like, clinical? Like I was acutely aware of what was happening, if that makes sense. I was thinking about the mechanics of it, what was going in where. I was thinking about how it was "supposed to feel" versus how it actually felt. I would wonder how much longer it would take because I was getting bored. Sometimes I would think about how rude it would be if I checked my phone. And probably the most upsetting (retrospectively) thing I would think about was if my act of enjoyment was convincing enough. And I didn't ever want to tell a partner that I wasn't enjoying it because I didn't want to hurt their feelings. Because I thought it was a me problem. That there was something wrong with me. And there being something wrong with me wasn't fair to whoever I was with. I just needed to grin and bear it, so to speak.

At one point I had a bit of a gay panic where I thought wasn't bisexual and actually a lesbian. The panic was over the confusion, not over the potential lesbianism. Lesbians are awesome. But I learned that while sexual intimacy with women was a bit easier, my feelings (or lack thereof) about sex were still the same. And that meant there was something wrong with me in particular.

I know now that my perspective was warped and my thoughts about myself were both unkind and untrue, but that was a lot to try and reconcile as a 19 year old who already thought she was undesirable. Constantly being called a "late bloomer" and not having your first relationship until you're a sophomore in college sure does a number on your self esteem. Which in turn does a number on your perception of yourself.

Then as I got older, I got more queer friends. And I talked to those queer friends. And they talked about sex differently than my straight friends did. More openly and honestly. With less fanfare. And it was during those discussions that I heard about experiences similar to mine. And it helped me realize I wasn't broken. Well, that and google.

And now I stand before you today, an aspec bisexual able to joke about being horny in theory but not in application. It's nice not feeling broken anymore. But I think it's even nicer now knowing that I was never broken in the first place.

Sometimes sex is nice, but most of the time, it's just going to the pharmacy. And both of those things are okay.

#asks #if 20 year old Berklie could see me talking so frankly about my sex life she'd probably implode #but if you never talk about this kinda stuff it makes it awful hard for folks to know they're not the only ones #that they're not alone #and most importantly: that they're not broken like she had always been led to believe

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gin-juice-tonic · 2 months

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hate when my sort of "inner thoughts" voice changes from sounding like mine to sounding like someone else who I heard talk a lot that day. I dont know how relatable this is but its a frustrating experience.

#one of my old jobs this used to bring me to tears i had to hear my bosses voice so much #and then she'd be in there sayin my thoughts when i got home #im off the clock! get out of there!#today its just a podcast man though #ive brought this up before- its been a problem since at least middle school

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pentacass · 7 months

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i'm fine just let me cry in this gutter thank u

#bg2 #bg3 #rasaad #jaheira #yzstuff #it's easy to take bg3 jaheira for granted as the Wise Old Woman but she walked that road herself #she'd had her own tragedy and crisis happen #and she had friends who helped her and shaped her into the woman she is 100 years later #much like what the tadfools are going thru #and the best part is SHE IS STILL FALLIBLE. AND SHE RECOGNISES AND ACKNOWLEDGES THIS AND CONTINUES TO GROW.#GOD #i really went 'i should take a break from bg3'#and went to play a game that would stir my brain like soup and toss it back to bg3

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lost-tardis-room · 3 months

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rip to fourteen for having to go shopping for clothes with donna

#there's no way she'd let him wear that same suit for the rest of forever #but also he'd probably follow her around on errands all the time but the ONE TIME she wants to buy him clothes they'd be like nooooo no non #nono nooooo no please donna it's okay i can wear this it's fine also whole tardis wardrobe #and she'd be like uh uhi stand by my point you can wear a suit like that up to the age of 35 and not past it #and he would say donna i'm over a thousand years old #and she'd say exactly! time for you to buy a hoodie!#uhhh anyways wrote a ficlet in my own tags lol #fourteenth doctor #donna noble #i love them so so much #dr who #doctor who

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lyxchen · 3 months

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Can everybody please read what the people who designed Rapunzel's tower for the Tangled movie wrote about all the drawings on the wall!!

Here is the text:

[As might be expected, Glen Keane is as interested in what's inside as what's outside."What's most interesting about the art direction is the inside of the tower. To me, that is Rapunzel's world, and the idea that this girl is making her walls go away by painting on them-I love that.

Visual development artist (and Glen Keane's daughter) Claire Keane continues, "We didn't want it to be just decorative. This is all of her subconscious desires and all of her conscious desires. When I started trying to figure out what she would paint and how she would paint, I started looking into medieval drawings, and also the way other artists work with interconnecting their objects-Rapunzel paints on the walls and she paints on her furniture and it's all connected. I was trying to come up with a new language for the way she would paint"

Claire Keane took a very personal approach to identifying Rapunzels art. "I started on the weekends, and in the mornings, and whenever I was at home, documenting my life in a sketchbook, and turning it into Rapunzel.

Cleaning up my house, putting away my clothes, separating the dirty from the clean. I'm singing while I'm doing it. That leads into this life-as-art thing, where everything Rapunzel is doing is another opportunity for art.

Nathan and Byron also wanted her to feel a little analytical, as if she's documenting things that she's discovering. So it's not just about her art, she's also learning things"

Glen Keane concludes, "Well, you start off when she was a little girl, she just started painting very simple childlike images on the wall. It progresses in maturity to where every square inch is painted. When we're starting the story, there is no room left on this wall any longer. Her next step has to be to go out."]

Like this is so lovely!!!! Especially the last part: "When we're starting the story, there is no room left on this wall any longer. Her next step has to be to go out." I love that so much!!!

#i adore all the 'the art of' books!!!!#they are so beautiful and really show how much work is put into those movies!!!!#like #just the fact that these people were taking the time to genuinely think about how rapunzels art style would have progressed as she got olde #and the things she'd be interested in drawing and painting #i love it so much #i'm gonna buy so many more of these books until i have ALL OF THEM #tangled #lea's random thoughts #i keep saying it #but tangled is one of my very favorite movies it is So Good!!!!!

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nattravn-art · 23 days

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"Eyes blinded by the fog cannot see the truth."

#rusty lake #cube escape #elizabeth eilander #fun fact: the texture used for this one is from an old photo plate from the 1800's #something something lore #alyway she's the best girl #I have a lot of feelings for her and her siblings alright ;;#another fun fact: that pose was a struggle and I accidentally drew her absolutely JACKED #think à la Luisa Encanto #If she had that power she'd be unstoppable #lift the house and the animals and yeet it away #last fun fact: it looked like she was having googly eyes on my sketch #the shitpost was so close let me tell you #David would have put googly eyes on it #David would have put googly eyes on everything

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shadyufo · 3 months

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Made the incredibly hard decision to have sweet old Henrietta put to sleep today.

She's still had a limp since she broke her femur back in September but it seemed like she was making progress on healing—it was just slow. When Pearl broke her leg back in 2018 it was a full year before she stopped limping (no limp at all since then) so I was hoping the same would eventually be true for Henrietta. I'd still been keeping her in the house in her cage at night and when the weather was bad, then putting her in her own fenced-off space in the coop during nicer days. She wouldn't stop picking fights with Pearl so I was keeping them separated except for supervised outings in the yard.

Anyway, Sunday morning her limp was suddenly much worse. We went to the vet today and x-rays revealed that the femur actually wasn't healing well at all. The ends of the bone hadn't realigned properly and the vet suspected a bone callus might have broken off which caused the sudden worsening of the limp. Nothing to do besides keep her caged and on pain meds for the rest of her life or get in touch with a specialist for surgery, even a potential amputation which I've never even heard of being done on a chicken. She's 9 years old, would have been 10 in April, and while she was definitely a tough gal I just didn't want to put her through all of that. So I opted to just let her rest.

Cried my freaking eyes out man. The vet tech who was helping us started crying too and I felt so bad but she was so sweet and kind. You folks in the veterinary field are absolute angels and I know I and so many others can't thank you enough for all the incredible care and compassion you show our beloved pets, even the unconventional ones. You are SO appreciated.

Rest easy, sweet Henrietta—the last of the Golden Nuggets. <3

#pet death #animal death #kept hearing one of the other vets in the back trying to clarify that she was really nine years old heh #I was sure hoping she'd get to see 10 but it just wasn't meant to be I guess

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onehundredfallenpetals · 3 months

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One of many late nights during their journey

#frieren at the funeral #sousou no frieren #frieren: beyond journey's end #stark x fern #fern frieren #stark frieren #I've been loving this anime so much I just wanted to draw them all together #Frieren staying up late watching the stars means she WILL be trying to sleep until noon to Fern's chagrin #But I bet she'd know a lot of old myths about the constellations #and she'd tell a couple to Stark if he asks

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feroluce · 17 days

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Lucid Dreamer (1/2)

part 2

Gepard notices that it's been. Quiet lately. Like weirdly quiet. TOO quiet. He hasn't seen Sampo Koski in almost a week, which is about the longest he's ever been absent. And he is NOT worried. He's not! So what if they've been getting along more lately! So what if Gepard sometimes looks for him in his favorite hiding places! So what if he's been dreaming about blue hair and green eyes! It's nothing!!

But they're….strange, these dreams. Gepard doesn't usually remember what he's dreamt. It's out of his mind seconds within waking up. But these stick with him, they won't leave him be, they feel different somehow.

He dreams of Sampo bringing food to the frontlines and eating breakfast in his tent with him. Sampo always sneaks him extras. He dreams of chasing Sampo through the alleyways, Sampo sometimes letting himself be caught, Gepard sometimes catching him, and trying to ignore how it feels more like a game now more than anything else. He even dreams that Sampo tags along with him on one of his few civilian days. Sampo runs errands with him, prattles about inane bullshit while Gepard picks out groceries for the week, drags Gepard into some bakery he's never been to but he thinks Serval mentioned once.

And sometimes, it feels so close to reality, that Gepard half expects to see Sampo, shamelessly swaggering into the frontlines with all the guards' breakfast like his wanted poster wasn't only recently taken off the walls of Belobog. He's disappointed when it's always someone else instead. He tells himself his disappointment is ridiculous and if Sampo wants to go prowl around the Snow Plains or wherever he is, then fine. It's not any of his business.

…But it IS his job to investigate any unusual criminal activity relating to the frontlines. And the frontlines are Sampo's usual haunting grounds, and this is unusual activity, and Sampo IS technically a criminal, so it is absolutely part of his duty to look into this - is what Gepard tells himself the entire tram ride down into the Underground.

Natasha tells him he's gone, and Gepard has to steel himself. He knew Sampo made enemies wherever he went, there are a lot of people who would love his head on a platter, but he didn't think-

Natasha corrects him that she means literally gone. As in off-planet. Sampo always leaves her a note before he goes anywhere, so she knows not to expect any supply runs from him. He should be back in exactly two weeks. Thank the Preservation.

Gepard goes back home. He waits.

The uneasiness doesn't leave him.

"Where did you go?" Sampo stops dead in the middle of some story about Seele, and how you'd think someone with as blunt a mouth as her wouldn't have so much trouble asking a woman out, even if that woman IS the Supreme Guardian, and stares at him. He nearly fumbles his cigarette.

"Ahaha, what do you mean, I'm right here?" Sampo smiles at him the same way he always does. Gepard has no idea why he asked. It just popped out. He can never tell when Sampo is lying, anyway.

"I don't know. I feel like I haven't seen you in a long time." Gepard idly mouths at his own cigarette. He almost never smokes, but he wants to ration their stocks of Blizzard Immunity, and it helps with the cold. It's seemed colder lately, for some reason.

Gepard flicks his lighter once, twice, sighs at the third time because a metal prosthetic and thick gloves make the damn things so difficult. Sampo reaches over and wordlessly kisses the end of his cigarette to Gepard's, lighting it. "Thank you."

Nothing happens for almost a full 30 seconds. Something churns behind Gepard's ribcage. Because Sampo never leaves a "thank you" hanging. This is the part where he gives his spiel about how helpful and kind he is and Gepard either brings up how long his rap sheet was before Bronya helped clear his name, or just stares deadpan because seeing Sampo squirm is weirdly satisfying.

"…I'll be back in one more week."

Gepard jolts awake in his cot, mouth dry and eyes bleary.

The hell.

The next dream he has, Sampo looks tired. Sometimes he seems normal. Sometimes he says strange things, like how he wishes he'd gone to some restaurant in Belobog. Ate his favorite food more recently. Brought something with him. Gepard asks why he can't do that now. Where would he bring something? Sampo only shrugs. His rebuttals have less energy.

Gepard doesn't know if he wants to dream more, or less.

He ticks down the days on his calendar. Natasha hasn't told him any different. She promised she would if she got any kind of message. Sampo returns tomorrow, from whatever vacation or seedy business dealings he's been off having. He is not excited about it. He is not looking forward to it. He's not!!

Gepard falls asleep late that night, unable to settle. He dreams again.

He's alone. There are tons of people everywhere, the frontlines are always crowded. But he's alone. They all pass right by him as though he were a ghost. Gepard starts to walk before he realizes his feet are even moving.

He checks the trashcans in the dead end alley. He checks the supply crates that someone always stacks too high because they don't feel like finding more space for them. He pauses to check the soldiers that march past him, watching their footprints in the snow.

He finally finds Sampo on the rooftop along the northernmost wall, the one that looks out over the plains, towards Everwinter Hill, towards where the Stellaron had once been kept. With a full moon and an entire land of white snow, Gepard can almost see clear out to the horizon.

"Found you." Sampo stiffens, and Gepard is almost prepared for him to sprint off the roof. He doesn't. But he doesn't relax either. Gepard sits down next to him and stares out at the wastelands.

"…I fucked up." It wasn't what Gepard had been expecting. Sampo never 'fucks up,' Sampo just gets into incidents that are entirely, supposedly, not his fault and that he just happens to always be within the vicinity of.

"What did you do now?" It must be really bad if Sampo is coming to the Silvermanes for protection.

Instead, Sampo ignores his question completely. "See out over there? Right on the other side of that mountain. There's a safe house that way. It's hidden under a lot of snow and dead trees, but it's there. And in that safe house is a box full of letters. I need you to deliver those letters for me."

Gepard's brow furrows. It's a weird favor to ask. Sampo would never tell anyone where his hidden safehouses were. It defeated the whole purpose of a hidden safe house.

Something is wrong, something is really really wrong.

Gepard turns back to look at him again and startles, all of his questions dying in his throat, because the entire left side of Sampo's head is suddenly matted down, dark and sticky, his skin is dyed red red red-

"In three more months, there's gonna be something big happening." Gepard grabs Sampo's hand and it feels slick and warm against his palm. "I won't be here. So I need you to do my end of things for me." Gepard tries to keep hold, but something is fading, something is slowing, the sun is coming up but the colors are all wrong, everything feels like encroaching fog, Sampo's hand slides right through his. "I was gonna come back with my mask to finish setting the stage, but…" Gepard makes a frantic grab for Sampo's wrist, the air twists, he comes back empty-handed. "They have you. And you're the Iron Wall of Belobog. So it'll be ok."

Gepard finally manages to find his grip, snatches the front of Sampo's dark wet jacket and yanks him forward to hold onto him, and this close up, he can see it better, his colors are bleaching out, leaking outside the lines as if Sampo will become part of the background, as if he's fading into the strange fog that's been closing in on them. His fingers are already starting to feel empty again.

"Wake up."

Gepard jolts awake, uncurls his hands from where they're fisted in the blanket, scrubs the dampness off his face. Breathes. Breathes. Breathes. Today is supposed to be the day.

He throws on his civilian clothes, and he goes down to the shipyard the IPC had built. He finds a spot where he can see every person that returns to Belobog, and he waits.

And he waits and he waits and he waits.

No one he recognizes appears.