more venting ... Eep kinda, I'm so sorry y'all put up with me , not exactly endo related tho, big TW in this one, please check tags for appropriate TWs

I don't really understand what's happening, am I crashing? Am I having some kind of melt down? I don't know. I just feel bad. Horrible. Like the entire world is so horrid and dark and that I'll never be able to be who I want to be. I don't understand this place and I don't think I ever will. I don't understand why people hate me, why they want me dead just for being me. I'm so scared. I feel like someone's going to kill me, like I will die before I even get the chance to be.. me. And everytime I tell someone they just fucking laugh at me, or try give me "logic". But I know that logically it is possible. I could get murdered and it's scary. I do not want to leave my house anymore. At all. It's literally my birthday and all I can think of is how fucked everything is and how I'm going to end up dead.

i'm sorry

this isn't about you

^ and other things left unsaid

neglected au is by the fabulous @nerves-nebula and HAS been eating away at my brain for the past week. I think before this they had just had an argument where Donnie went outside to cool down and - you get the rest.

these two posts in particular were what I was thinking of while drawing this so some generally needed contexts: og inspo - comic (slur + ableism + sa tw for comic)

I don't imagine this was abt that moment in particular but more abt ALL those times that Leo just couldn't keep her fucking mouth shut . This takes place p early on to when they first left the sewers. So ya <3

i realize i will most likely never be loved the way i love and that i have always come second, third or fourth even tho i always make time to put people i care about first because i want the people in my life to feel loved in the same way that i so desperately want to be loved. just came to the realization that i will probably never ever get the love i truly want :,)

my frustration with the bsd fandom is that their bias hatred towards mori causes them to be stubborn in not analyzing mori's character at all. yes, he has done bad shit, but 80% of the characters has as well. bsd is a morally gray world. they simplify him to "pedo sadist that fiddles children" like just wtf. the sa dazai headcanon and theories spread around and shown in the fics are just so disgusting and triggering. you're taking such an intersting, mysterious, and well written character and painting him as the source of every problem in the BSD universe (basically making him a scapegoat). it's illogical and stupid. you're allowed to dislike characters, just appreciate how well written they are and don't simplify them down/mischaracterize them due to your contempt towards them.

i wrote this as a joke because I wanted to strangle a guy watching tiktoks without headphones on the bus, but im genuinely disturbed that we've gotten to a point where convenience comes first. and it depresses me even more that its used to justify and monetize greed

us: hey before we become attached to you we're telling you straight up that talking is hard and we struggle with it, so there will be times where our responses will come extremely late or come across empty and dry

someone trying to befriend us: oh that's okay! i dont mind!

us: this is not an exaggeration we cannot stress how hard speaking is for us at times please do you really understand before we get our hopes up?

them: absolutely! i understand its okay! talking sucks sometimes its cool :) I'll talk for all of us

also them: you never talk to me it feels like im always doing all the talking and the only one trying in this friendship 💢 try and at least pretend u want to be my friend 🖕

THE MORE I KNOW LORE OF DARQX'S OCs THE MORE I WANT TO STEAL THEM

translation: "I beg you!! tell me that your OC can be rented!!!"

corpse bride 💚

my face every time my professors keep assigning me shit

i am still kicking!! simply going back into my Greek myth phase (as if I ever left). ask me about greek myth please i have too many in my head

It is Easter and it is Trans Day of Visibility and I am with my grandparents, who are so loving, and my father, who is also loving but forgetful, and I transitioned years ago, and my dead name sucks the air from my lungs every time it's said, which is often.

It is usually a direct misnaming. And I gently say, "I go by Gordon these days, actually" in that friendly jokey way. And I am bearded, and low-voiced, and a woman in the hall called me a dapper young man. And my grandfather clarifies to my grandmother, trying to be kind, "She uses a different name now."

To my grandmother, I am sometimes her son. I am sometimes a friendly young stranger. Or, sometimes, I am the dead name, and she asks if I have a frog in my throat, and goodness, what a mustache! There's no shame in shaving, she assures me.

Sometimes, she asks where dead name is. Sometimes, she supposes I must be dead name's husband, though she never knew me to date men.

It's not fair of me to be hurt. They are old, and ill, and have always been so, so kind. They love their gay son, and they loved me as their gay granddaughter.

My father is a wonderful robot who loves the forest but doesn't see the trees. A fountain of love for humanity, but only a vague understanding of the individual humans. He cannot call me by my name, and I know I can't take it personally. It simply doesn't matter to him, and that is alright, because I know he loves the idea of me, and loves my queer world, even if he will never actually see me as me.

I am here, in my phone, reminding myself of my great fortune, the great love my family has shared with me. But I am also here aching to be known by the people who have meant the most to me.

In perfect moments, however, my grandparents do remember. And I am Gordon, and Gordon is loved, even though he was reborn in ways they don't fully understand.

Then it's gone, and I let them see whatever ghost they want to see, and I am an invisible grandson carrying the corpse of their granddaughter like a pallbearer, buckling under the weight of myself.

It was worth it, my rebirth, whether or not they see it.

It is Easter Sunday, and I saved my damn self.

Hello! I'm so sorry for this— I really didn't want to ruin the festivities— but I need to open yandere fic emergency commissions; my target is 15 USD. My school uniform has been torn to shreds in the machine and I can't exactly budget this week's allowance since my university is rather strict based on the manual. I'd do my best to write a minimum of 3k words + a drawn GIF header similar to these

[I honestly don't know wtf I'll eat this week at this rate kinda panicking rn cuz my scholarship stipend still hasn't arrived for months hahahahahha. To put it in perspective, the uniform I need costs 8 USD why are they so damn expensive when the fabric has the lousiest threads in the planet, and I have F2F classes for 3 days straight starting this Monday to Wednesday, then again at Friday to Saturday and I usually budget my meals to be 1 USD. I'm SEAsian, I'm just converting the amount to USD but I eat those 1 cup of rice + hotdog every lunch but of course the university canteen closes at night and it's a bit more expensive outside hAHAHHA 😭😭😭]

I write for: genshin impact, honkai: star rail, fire emblem: three houses. Can be x reader or OC character [please provide information for the latter]. Here are some samples of my writings...

If the Pedestal Is Beautiful... (Zhongli)

Apotheosis Upon Your First Feast (Scara & Pantalone)

Classical Conditioning (Dottore)

I Got Reincarnated As A Server NPC (Diluc)

The things I don't write are: full NSFW smut scenes & adult/minor pairings

I'll put the commissioned fic a priority above all my other works. Please message me if you're interested. Thank you so much for taking the time to reading this, have a blessed February!!!

Edit: THE SLOT HAS BEEN FILLED OMG IM SO RELIEVED 😭😭😭😭 THANK YOU FOR HELPING ME OUT I CAN NOW WORK FOR MY ALLOWANCE THIS FEB 😭😭😭😭

I hate when people (especially terfs) talk about cis women getting double mastectomy for personal reasons like it's the worst possible thing ever.

Like, it's always talk about how women are more than their breasts and bodies, how they shouldn't be defined by their breasts, until a woman says she much prefers being flat chested. Then there is every reason in the world why this woman needs to keep her breasts, and removing them is somehow "awful" and "dystopian".

I wish mental health services were more easily accessible and certain mental illnesses weren't still demonized in the field

absolutely insane take from the priest this past sunday but apparently he doesn't consider marriages only carried out at the courthouse and not through the church as real marriages so if you got married and didnt get a specifically catholic marriage then having sex is still a sin. absolutely baffling take along with the rest of the purity culture bs he was spouting

you go to a lesbian blog and find it says women only!! no men allowed!!! and go oh! excuse me, um, what about other lesbians? plenty of lesbians are genderqueer... and they go well, okay, go fuck yourself tim chop off your sweaty dick and stop calling yourself a lesbian. you do not have a dick, actually. you think about that fact often, even though it does you no good. you do not tell this person that.

you go to another lesbian blog and it says women only and you try again, and this time they change it to wlw + nblw only (non-men who love non-men :D). and you'll say hey i appreciate that but gender's not really that cut and dry for a lot of people. someone could be both a man and nonbinary, for instance. i just worry that you're looking at nonbinary as a generic third gender, or an extension of womanhood. i mean yeah you include nblw in your tags but all your posts are about pussy-havers exclusively. what's with that? and they say go fuck yourself you pervy man pretending to be a lesbian. you tried to sneak in but i won't let you.

so you go to a lesbian blog with a dozen or so posts about queer people needing to be more weird about it and you sigh in relief. but you still see the men dni. that's odd. hoping for the best, you say hey! i know you mean well but please maybe don't put men dni at the end of the lovely posts on your lesbian blog bc some lesbians are men. and they'll be like ok!! well you're allowed ;) and you say no that's not. no. some men are lesbians not just me. you think about your own dicklessness and wonder if that's why you were given entry. and you add that even if male lesbians are allowed, there's no indication of that. how would anyone know without asking? and they're like ohh gotcha gotcha well men dni + this is for sapphics only!! and you'll be like ok well that treats the concepts of men and sapphics as mutually exclusive identities and i just told you that's not true and you agreed with me so.. i don't think that solves our problem. and they're like. ok. fine. men dni but genderfluid and multigender people are allowed! and you're like no see that's. that's still the same thing.. you're saying the same thing just with different words. if you don't want men to interact but you're fine with multigender/genderfluid/etc ppl interacting then you either don't see them as Real Men (because they don't reach a standard of Full Manhood) or Complete Men (because they're only Part-Time Men), both of which suggest that they are, in some way, not men or less-than men, which is invalidating and defeats the point of the exception in the first place (accommodation) OR that you don't really mean the dni which is confusing and inconsistent and makes guydykes feel weird and uncomfortable and excluded from the lesbian space you're trying to cultivate. and they're like um. ok. so. cishet men dni? and you're like well i think that makes more sense, but what if someone identifies as both a cishet man and a sapphic? again, if we're trying to accommodate the genderfucky populace then that has to be a possibility that is considered. and they say god you people are never happy. what do you want me to do? what am i supposed to say to keep the right men out? and you pause. you empathize with the need for a space free from dudes trying to fuck you straight and feminine. dudes who watch lesbian porn and joke about what they'd do if they were allowed into girls locker rooms. who look at you like a piece of meat, and like someone who looks at women like pieces of meat in the same way he does. you get it. you know. you want a space where you can be sapphic, too. that's why you came to these blogs in the first place. you brace yourself and you say well i don't know that there are "right men" to keep out. i don't know that there's any single label that would accomplish whatever it is you're trying to accomplish. you could go for "sapphics only" or "queers only" and i think that might be the closest thing to what you want, but it's never going to be perfect. creating any exclusive space is going to shut out people you didn't account for, and the broader the label, the more people will be shut out that you didn't want to shut out. and what about people who don't know if they're allowed? what of questioning transbians, where are they supposed to go? and, frankly, i think i might rather my dykey posts get read and appreciated by a gay guy who sees me as a man than a woman who only sees me as a sacred womb, pure from male perversions or violence or whatever. i think community might just be more complex than a dni can handle. and they look at you and say i don't want to not have a dni. i think you're too permissive. you can't just "what about" or microlabel your way into everything. go fuck yourself, i bet you're not even a lesbian anyway. go find a real problem to get mad about.

you go to a lesbian blog. you ignore the men dni because you know you probably don't even count to them. or maybe you do count and, out of respect for your manhood, they'd shun you accordingly. you try to feel okay about that. you scroll past dozens of posts about mediocre men and gagging at straight friends' boyfriends and how gross and undeserving men are of the beautiful women they couple up with and how all women should be gay so they can get treated right and and and and and. you finally find a post about curling into someone you love and feeling at peace and try to lose yourself in it. you know that feeling is what unites you, what makes you belong. you try to focus on it. you think about carding your hands through a butch's hair or lacing fingers with a femme and feeling warm and loved and more yourself than you ever have before. like this is who you're meant to be. you read about lesboys and butch boytoys and genderfucky dykes and big hairy deep-voiced wonderful women (like you want to be someday, like you wish you could make yourself) and you try to ignore the men dni underneath each and every post. and you daydream about meeting someone kind and earnest at a lesbian bar even though you don't think any such bars exist within three states of you and you can't drink and don't want to drink because you need to be in control of yourself at all times so you don't fuck up like you're always about to and here in the nonexistent lesbian bar you feel wanted and safe and in good company. you picture your ideal, happiest self. it is a mistake. ideal-you has a goatee. not the mascara one you smear on and call drag even though you know it's not drag, not really, the beard you call drag because you think everyone would look at you sadly if you told them it was just to pretend you had something out of your reach. a beard that's soft and that you grew and that cannot be smudged away if you get too comfortable with it. the dream shatters. your people pull away from you, their scoffs mixing with the mind-numbing gay girl bedroom pop you learned to settle for just to have something that almost resembled you, they all pull away and turn their backs and do not look at you. you're too close to being a man now, even though you're the same amount of man as before. and they know you're not supposed to interact with men, not as you would with dykes, at least. and it sours. it's all your imagination, all in your head, but it sours.

you sigh. you think about how small you are. how short, how narrow, how feeble. how your voice pitches up when you talk to strangers because it's easier to speak quietly when it carries more, and because you're nervous. because it's a chore to talk, like everything is. you think about testosterone. you think about how your family would look at you, the questions they would ask, your answers they would only pretend to accept. the uncomfortable glances and whispered questions they'd try to hide from you. you think about how small you are, and how small you will always be. how you don't know of a way to fix it, but even if there was one, no one would want you anymore. you'd be the only one thinking it made you a cooler dyke. you think about how you don't even want a T-voice all the time, how you'll never be able to switch it at will, because you don't know how and can't bring yourself to figure it out. you think about how your throat closes around every hint of your own attraction. how wanting is perverse, how wanting is invasive, how wanting is embarrassing and too vulnerable so it must stay anonymous, as an online witness, and how you can barely manage to form or maintain friendships because your brain makes you pull away, always spinning out and struggling to recover from the simplest of interactions. how they'll all leave you and you won't chase after them at all and how that will hurt them. how stuck you get. how it looks like nothing's holding you back, how that frustrates everyone who thought you were going to be more than you were. the people you love who understand except when it comes to being ghosted, being shut out. how you don't want to hurt them. how you can't tell them that because you're stuck. how you turn to stone when touched, how you never reach out, how you lose your speech and can't look at people, how your autism is fun and sexy until it becomes real and you never see them anymore, how much you longed for someone who knew everything without you having to explain, and who loved you anyway. how unreasonable you know that is to expect of anyone. you think about that not-even-real lesbian bar. you think about how you still can't drive. how you can't leave your home on your own, without dragging somebody into helping you. how you can't leave your body. how you can't leave your manhood behind.

you think about finding another lesbian blog and ignoring everything. about skimming it for the parts you can juice some meaning from. the parts men ignore and don't understand, and how typical of you it is to do so. or the parts where you're not welcome and you should accept that, because it's for lesbians only. how you are a lesbian anyway. how you're meant to choose lesbian or man, how each is a betrayal of some kind to yourself or your people, your family, your lovely strangers, your rare friendly acquaintances. about the parts that tell you you're not wanted, that you're ugly and lazy and gross and insert yourself everywhere without even asking. about the parts that tell you you are hated, and how lesbians are above it all by rejecting men. how lesbians are each blessed miracles. about the parts that say you should be ashamed of being whatever twisted confused freak you are, of everything, of looking and wanting or not looking or not wanting, of picking and choosing instead of taking it all in with a smile. after all, shouldn't you take it? or is your ego too fragile, as men's so often are? aren't you tired? good. we're not here for your consumption. and we sure as hell don't want your company or "community" or whatever. didn't you read the sign? no boys allowed. and if you want to come in you have to make up your mind. as if you haven't told them the only answer you have. you're both. you're both.

you know you broke the rule by interacting.

but it gets lonely sometimes. you wonder if they know.