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jinkies!

When I was a kid, maybe 14 or so (which is, you know, 20+ years ago), I belonged to a Yahoo! mailing list for an anime called Gundam Wing. It was mostly populated by other teens, of varying ages, as it was started by a teen and her friends. Eventually it migrated, when Yahoo! groups started as forums, and even branched off into non-GW related stuff in a second forum.

One of the things I remember the most clearly is the oldest person in the group. Her name was Steelsong. She was a 40-something Dom with a sub whose name we knew even though we knew nothing else. She ran her own fanfic archive because the web was still handmade HTML and navigated in webrings and I’m pretty sure Google didn’t exist or was only barely, barely launched and not well known. She was kind and patient and we loved her. She treated everyone on the group with the respect given any adult, even though most of the rest of the world was still treating us like we were children. Not teenagers even, but children. She never once condescended to any of us, never made our youth a barrier to her respect, never treated us like we were incapable of being full people or like we were less than her because we were young.

I remember that she hosted our fanfiction, as absolutely terrible as it was (and I still have some of it, I am WELL aware of how cringingly terrible it is, just absolute nonsense garbage), right there alongside of other fic that was soul-achingly beautiful. Not a separate section for her friends or for kids, just right there like we were good enough to feature alongside other authors. I never once received crit from her that I didn’t ask for, only support. Only love. I am still writing today partly because Steel was so kind about our fic, fanfic and original.

I remember that when I started doing clay sculpture, she commissioned a tiny pair of dragons from me, to support me doing artwork. She sent a check my mom cashed for me, and my mom helped me mail it when it was finished. It broke in transit, and Steel assured me that she mended it and that it was still beautiful. It was a small gold dragon curled up with a small silver dragon.

I remember that her patience knew no bounds. I remember that she was there for us, regardless of reason. When we wanted to know silly things like what to do with a single AA battery, she answered. When we had serious questions about sex, she answered.  When we had questions about writing, she taught us. When one of our group members, a young gay teen in Australia, ended up in the hospital and then stopped making posts, and we all knew what had happened, she let us talk to her about it because we couldn’t go to our own parents, even though we had just lost a friend.

She was not a replacement to my parents, but she was an extra parent, in some ways. A friend, certainly, but someone that had been through more life than we had and was willing to pass on knowledge if we asked for it. Someone older that we trusted with things that were too uncomfortable to go to our parents or teachers or whatever about, because we already knew she wasn’t going to judge us or something, and that we would get an honest answer.

I don’t know why I’m remembering this so hard tonight, and I’m not sure if there’s a point to sharing this, except that I know she’s gone now. She was ill the last time we spoke, and her site went down a long time ago, and I miss her. She was a huge influence on my life, then and now. She was hope, for me, that life as an adult didn’t have to be boring, it wouldn’t have to mean giving up the things I loved and Becoming Only Responsible With No Fun. Her presence meant I had hope I could still write and play with friends even when I wasn’t ‘a kid’ anymore. And she’s gone, and I miss her, and I wanted to share her from the perspective of youth, and the perspective over twenty years later has provided me.

And I think of her, when people go off about older folks being in fandom with younger folks. I’m an older folks now, or at least middle aged folks because there are certainly folks older than me still, but I wasn’t always. I’ve been here since i was a younger folks, and I know how much Steel’s presence and support meant to me, how much she helped not just me but everyone on that group. And I think of the people saying older folks don’t belong in fandom, and that they shouldn’t interact with younger folks at all, and I just think… I can’t agree. I needed that kind of solid presence in my life back then and even at the age I am now, I need the folks older than me to stay. I want them here.

So I guess, like, if you’re here and you’re 40 or 50 or 60 or 70 or 80 or whatever, I want you here in fandom with me, still. Your presence here is a comfort. It is hope. It is a reminder that life will continue to be fun, even as I get older, myself. And if you’re younger and you have this sort of elder in your groups, I hope that they are like Steel. I hope they are kind and patient and supportive, and that knowing them gives you hope for your own future. I hope in twenty years you look back and remember them fondly.

for my birthday this year, my friends and i did a drunk photo competition portraying norse legends. the rules were simple: after you pull a random prompt, you have 10 minutes to create the picture with household items. while shitfaced of course.

anyway, here is my team's low budget rendition of jörmungandr rising from the sea during ragnarök.

featuring me as the head of the sea serpent (left) and my brother as loki (right)

casinos have largely failed to consider the "come back the next day to reset your luck" strategy

(Context: I'm AuDHD and have ZERO ability to do the thing when I think about doing the thing. I'm trying a new stimulant, Azstarys, and it's given me that ability.)

What it's like having executive function: The moment I think about doing something, it's done. For the first time ever I can make my body move as fast as I can think.

I've been awake for 5½ hours and this is what I've completed:

Went to say hi to a friend for his birthday, which involved: Driving across town, driving into downtown, and finding parking at a parking meter to go to an unfamiliar restaurant.

Dropped him and his wife off back at their house, which involved: Navigating on slippery and unfamiliar roads at night on semi-plowed roads.

Got home and cleaned my room, which involved: Putting all the crap I had strewn about into bins, putting the bins into the halls, picking garbage off the floor, pulling out the broom and dustpan, sweeping, pulling out the vacuum, vacuuming, pulling out furniture, pushing the furniture back, walking up and down the basement stairs to get things, putting the broom back, putting the vacuum back, putting the bins with crap back into my room to sort through later.

Made myself a milkshake, which involved: Pulling out all ingredients, making the milkshake, putting all the ingredients back, and hand-washing the blender and lid. And then I cleaned the few dishes left in the sink and cleaned the sink itself because it looked a little crusty.

The main takeaway I've learned from all this?

Efficiency is a bio-mechanical function, and how well this mechanical function works is NOT a matter of self-discipline or willpower.

When you have working executive function—when it doesn't cause your nervous system pain to set-switch and to execute tasks—doing tasks is EASY. SO EASY. MINDLESS. The moment I'd think about doing something, my body is suddenly doing it.

Additionally, none of this exhausted me. None of it inflicted pain on my nervous system. In fact, the only reason why I'd stop doing a task is purely because it gets boring to do, NOT because I'm burning out from constant pain-exposure.

Fuck literally everyone who claims this shit's a matter of willpower or discipline. If it feels like that to them, then that's testament to just how fucking easy they have it.

Imagine if you locked Light and Patrick Bateman in a room together. They would be having the most generic conversation but you wouldn’t be able to hear it over the sound of their overlapping internal monologues. There would be a few seconds where their monologues both play in sync to say something misogynistic.

i cry at night

i hate it when i cant even write a poem about something because its too obvious. like in the airbnb i was at i guess it used to be a kids room cause you could see the imprint of one little glow in the dark star that had been missed and painted over in landlord white. like that's a poem already what's the point

— I’m killing you now, Damian. This is happening. — Many have tried. Many with much more hair.

Batfam Dynamics Series: Jason Todd & Damian Wayne

heres to the other dandelions out there