Latest Posts by crypt-void - Page 3

okay so i finished checking if we were friends in every universe and, uh, it turns out we're only friends in 6 of them. but look, i need you to understand these universes vary like crazy, okay? like 6 is actually insanely high, like way higher than most. and one of those is the universe where i accidentally killed the actor who played Dipsy from Teletubbies when i was 7 and my life went completely differently as a result. and we still ended up friends! also you were a girl in that universe for some reason. what? oh, uh, yeah, you were cute as hell. like really cute. did you just fucking giggle

Anytime my girlfriend sees me eating chocolate >:

yall I might've dog-ed too close to the sun

whenever my sister sees me eating grapes or something with chocolate in it, she tells me to drop it because dogs Can't eat That

I take the animal and I make it shapes

Realrealreal

Every time I get called a pup or puppy my heart heals a little bit

i am begging you all to stop treating this site like instagram if you dont want it to be content free by next year

I agree. I'm not really one to get into discourse often, but they're kids on a platform with a lot of information being thrown at them. I think it's only fair that the ones that do come here to seek out their community should feel welcomed. They're still learning, it's okay.

I understand the frustrations of older members of the community who have been here longer and are caught off guard hearing stuff like "therians don't actually think they're animals," but I also remember not being able to properly articulate my thoughts at 14, and let alone to a bunch of trolls on the internet saying death threats because I wanted to wear some cool accessories. They're trying to figure themselves out. They're going to get some terms mixed up and feed off the information being fed to them from others on the platform. Plus, a lot of people still think Tumblr, for the most part, is dead. I did! They might not think there's anywhere else they can go to find community! That would suck!!! So for some of them, tiktok is all they've got.

The older folks I might be a little firmer with. Some of them do know better to do their research before just yelling into the void. However, some of them don't, and when they show up, they might learn that they should.

I will also add that some of these adults are also just finding out what they are through tiktok and that some big-time creators might not want to educate others on their community over and over again. There are different cases for everyone as to why they're not well informed about some aspects of the community when others think they should be, as well as why they aren't correcting their audiences as quickly and efficiently as we may want them to.

It's so easy to press record and say a bunch of stuff and post it to the masses. It takes more time to actually type out your thoughts for a closer knit community like on here (that isn't to say any people who make tiktoks don't work hard on them, just that your thoughts come out a lot faster when you say them rather than when you write them.)

Give them some time to gather their thoughts and explain their identities. The last thing I'd want is for someone to feel like they aren't welcome when they're just innocently looking for answers.

with tiktok getting banned soon, kinblr might see an uptick in ex-tiktokers coming here to seek out the 'kin community

because of that i just think we should be a little nicer ? ? i saw a post saying that "Tiktok Therians tainted the word Therian with hate" n like. i get disliking kintok for the misinfo and the harassment and the hate of beings with more complex 'kin identities but TAINTED??? to say they ( a community made up if mostly teenagers ) TAINTED therianthropy is actually insane to me

i am not a kintok defender in any way but can you all take like a few chill pills and go have an apple or something ?? holy shit i feel your frustration but your anger is misguided we should not be biting each other

we should be holding paws ( or claws fins hooves idk whatever u use to grab shit ) and like. singing kumbaya

Waiting for my fic to update so I can read the last chapter >:

“We hope this email finds you well” babe, the only emails I hope find me well are the ones from Archive of Our Own

Alright, here ya go. I hope in these trying times a more heartwarming trans story can help people feel a bit better.

Word count: 4,942

Cowboys 

I woke up early on Sunday with the neighbor’s rooster and rushed down the stairs in my pajamas to make it to breakfast. Mama made good bacon, and it was worth scarfing down my share, even if she fussed at me that young ladies don’t eat that way. I never cared much when she tried to tell me about being a lady. I let her tie my hair back into two braids for school, and listened as she called me a pretty girl, but I couldn't stand much past that. I picked at my eggs, sticking my tongue out at the runny yolk spilling over my plate. Dex sat on the floor beside me, pawing at my chair until Mama stopped looking and I lowered my dish below the table to let him gobble them up. 

Papa glared at me from over his paper, his old wrinkly forehead getting all scrunched up as I tried to read the Sunday funnies and ignored him. He didn’t tell on me, he never did, only huffed before looking back down and turning the page. 

Mama took my plate and was starting to do the dishes by the time Pau came slinking down the stairs, a cigarette hanging out of the side of his mouth. He scratched at his scruffy beard, and Papa gave him a mean look as he poured himself a mug of coffee. I always wondered what Papa would look like with a beard, but he laughed at me when I asked him to grow one. Mama dusted off her still-clean apron while muttering to herself about the smell of smoke spreading through the house. I grinned wide at my uncle, sitting on my knees in my chair with my hands pressed to the table to lean towards him. 

“Pau, you goin' to work today? Can I come? I can help.” 

Mama pushed on my shoulder to get me to sit back in my chair, and Dex yelped as my foot landed on his tail. I winced as he ran to Pau’s side who gave him a pat on his head, the mutt sneezing at me. Pau let out a long hum, taking a drag from his cigarette before checking the clock on the wall. Papa shook his head still looking at his paper.  

“Harley, shouldn’t you be studying?” He flipped another page, stabbing at his eggs with his fork. I wrinkled my nose at the thought of wasting the day staring at one of Papa’s history books. They were always about war and never had any of the good shootouts or bank robberies like the Westerns on television did. Papa never liked them, so Pau always watched them with me, and sometimes, when he’d blow his smoke out into the living room, he looked just like Clint Eastwood. 

Pau shrugged at me, already pulling on his boots, “We ain’t gonna take all day. It’s summer, Charlie. She’ll still have months to read all of them books.” He pointed up the stairs while reaching for his hat, “Kit, you got five minutes to get dressed, then I’m gone. Hop to it.” 

I jumped up from my chair and ran to my room as fast as I could, ducking out of the way of the hobby horse peeking through my closet. Its little brown head swiveled back and forth as I rushed to pull on my jeans and boots and grabbed my hat as I left. Mama called after me to stop running but I was already hopping into the passenger seat of Pau’s truck before I even realized she’d been speaking. 

The drive to Main Street always felt slow. I counted red cars to keep myself busy until Pau told me to think of the numbers instead of saying them.  

“Dumb kid. If you keep counting like that, you’ll start to forget your letters.” He shook his head, fussing with the radio as he waited for his light to turn green. 

I gave him a wide grin and laughed, air whistling through the gap in my front teeth. “That ain’t how it works, Pau.” 

Pau squinted at the road like he was thinking hard before he sucked on his cigarette again, letting smoke spill out his open window. “Whatever you say, Kit, you’re the brains, not me.” 

I stared at him a little longer before my mouth twitched, and I started to twiddle my thumbs. “Yeah, it doesn’t feel much like it though.” 

Pau raised one bushy brow, glancing at me before turning into the next street over. “Whatcha mean?”  

I let out a short sigh, picking at the edge of my seat, “It’s nothin’, just sometimes I don’t like bein’ smart.” The vinyl gave way under my nails, and I sat on my hands to stop them from fidgeting, “It makes people think I can handle a lot more than I can.” 

Pau took another drag before parking the car in front of Grant’s Supplies. He turned down the volume of the bluegrass song that was playing before laying his hand on my shoulder and looking at me. 

“Kit, I’ll give you a tip. People are tough on you because life is tougher. Folks just want to make sure you do good out in the real world. That's why even when things seem too hard, the best thing for you to do is to work harder and stay in school.”  

I didn’t meet his eye, instead focusing on the faded kneepads of his blue jeans. “You never went to school.” 

He gave a long sigh after that, opening the door and dropping his cigarette to stamp it out with his foot. “Point proven. Come on, we don’t have all day.” 

The door to Grant’s Supplies had a bell over it that dinged when you walked inside. Everything was made of wood, and every Sunday an elderly man who only spoke in low angry grunts and had his eyes covered by the constant furrow of his brow would come in the store to clean. I ducked past where he was sweeping behind the canned food and peeped at him through a gap in one of the aisles, holding up my fake finger pistol, and aimed for the bridge of his nose. I could practically smell the sheriff's reward of five hundred dollars for bringing this outlaw in, dead or alive. 

“Time to meet your maker,” I whispered, closing one eye and squinting, just about to fire. He must have heard me though. In the next moment, his head snapped to look at me and his eyes grew as wide as an owl’s. With a shout, I ran retreating to the counter at the front of the store where Pau stood with his hat to his chest, leaning into the blushing face of a lady with long sandy blonde hair. I rammed into his leg, sending him sideways a bit with an ‘oomph!’ but he stood to recover just as quickly as he had stumbled. The counter lady helped him up, laughing, and I stared perplexed by her perfectly manicured nails. 

“Oh goodness, are you alright?” She said, leaning across the counter and then looking at me, “Well hello there little lady.”  

I tilted my head away from her hands to squint up at her, still clinging to Pau’s leg. “I’m a cowboy.” 

Pau gained his footing again, looking a bit lost for words, and stuttered his way through an apology before turning to fuss at me. Before he could get anything out though she waved him off. 

“Oh, don’t apologize, I know how it is. My niece is just the same.” She talked with her hands and Pau began to smile before she carried on, “It’s just so nice to see a father hanging out with his kid.” The smile slowly dropped from Pau’s face, a distant look on his face as he turned to look down at me staring back up at him with big round eyes. 

“She ain’t my-” he was cut off by Mrs. Grant coming around the corner, her heels clicking on the floor as she huffed. 

“Well, would you look what the cat dragged in. Paul, I know you’re not flirting with another one of my cashiers.” 

I peeped up from behind Pau’s leg and Mrs. Grant’s narrowed brown eyes softened at the sight of me. “Hey, Harley honey, you helpin’ Paul today?” She slid a caramel candy over the counter, and I was quick to shove it into my mouth. 

“Yes ma’am,” I said. Pau heaved a sigh, wrapping an arm around my shoulder. 

She nodded to herself before turning to the counter lady. “That’s Charlie’s girl. Do you know Charlie?”  

The counter lady’s eyes went wide as she blushed an even deeper red, “Oh, I’m so sorry, I thought she was yours.”  

Mrs. Grant tapped the counter and shook her head, looking at Pau with a heaving sigh and narrowed eyes. “Yeah, you’d think that huh? You two always seem attached at the hip.” 

I lit up at the sound of that. People always thought I was Pau’s little girl. He said it was because I followed him like a lost kitten, so he called me Kit. I never saw it as a bad thing though. Pau was a good person to follow. He knew plenty about the right way to walk and how to talk himself out of trouble. I learned plenty trailing after him, even if Papa didn’t like it too much. After Pau came to live with us, Papa always mumbled about how he hadn’t been able to keep himself out of trouble since they were tots. 

“Yeah, well she’s just good help, that's all. Speaking of, I’m looking for paint. Ms. Carter needs a new coat on her fence.” Pau shrugged, and I watched as one of his hands dropped to his back pants pocket, grabbing at his cigarettes before letting it fall again. 

Mrs. Grant stopped her tapping and stared him down for a moment. It was a mean look that Pau turned away from, and I tilted my head in wonder of why. It didn’t last long as in the next moment she was turning to grab the paint buckets behind her. “White or blue?” 

Pau paid for two buckets of white paint, and then we were back in his truck. I counted blue cars this time, including his since there were fewer of them, and Pau said nothing. When I turned to look at him, he was biting his lip and had both his hands kept firm on the steering wheel. 

“I think that lady liked you, Pau,” I said, and Pau scrunched his face up tight giving a small smile. 

“Yeah, maybe so.”  

I kicked my feet, looking at my boots and the little pink lines painted into the brown leather. “Maybe you could marry her since you don’t have a wife yet.” I heard Pau scoff, “and maybe then I could come live with you two when you buy a house together.”  

Pau lit another cigarette, “Marriage ain’t that simple Kit, and I can’t buy a house.” 

I felt that he was just being difficult, but didn’t go on, instead I watched the cop car that came crawling up beside us at a stoplight. It sat lower than Pau’s truck, and the officer driving it turned to glare at us through the window. His nose looked crooked. I turned to Pau, my grin sharp but hesitated to say anything as Pau kept his gaze straight. He pressed himself against his seat, and the muscles on his hairy arms tensed where he was squeezing the steering wheel. His knuckles turned white from how hard he gripped it. I tilted my head a bit, trying to make sense of the funny way Pau’s eye twitched. 

“Does he know you Pau?” I said, trying my best not to whip around and glare right back at the cop. Pau’s cheeks turned a little red, and he moved his head just enough that I couldn’t see his eyes. 

“Don’t stare Kit. A cowboy has to mind the sheriff.” 

I said nothing, leaning back into my seat just like him until the light turned green and the cop passed by us. As we drove, Ms. Carter’s house and her faded fence appeared around the bend. She was sitting on her porch with a pitcher of lemonade when we hopped out of Pau’s truck. Pau waltzed up to her front steps and I followed behind him, trying to fit into the boot prints he left in the dirt path.  

Ms. Carter filled two glasses and nearly let mine overflow as she giggled over every word that tumbled out of Pau’s mouth, slapping at his arm. I rolled my eyes as she made some comment on liking men rugged, carrying the paint buckets and brushes toward the fence at the end of her front yard. Pau joined me after I’d already painted four posts and I looked at him with a bit of judgment, “She likes you too.” 

He shook his head, “She likes anyone who will talk to her.” He dipped his paintbrush into the bucket twice before swiping it over the fence. Before I could say anything, he was covering my mouth with his free hand, “I ain’t gonna marry her, so don’t bring it up.”  

I almost spit on his hand when he pulled it away, “I wasn’t going to say you should.” I swiped at another post, giving it a funny face before covering it up, “I just think maybe if you had a wife, she could tell Mrs. Grant to stop looking at you so mean.”  

He breathed out smoke and leaned back to look up at the sky like Mama did when she was praying, “There ain’t a woman in the whole damn world who would make Mrs. Grant stop looking at me like that.” 

I painted a stripe across three posts, my lips pursed into a thin line. “Why not Pau?” 

“Because it ain’t about the women. It's just me she doesn’t like,” he said. 

I threw down my brush, kicking at the fence post, “Well that ain’t fair.” He shook his head at me, and I almost kicked him too before I thought better of it. 

“No, Kit, it is.” He paid me no mind, dipping his brush again, “We can’t control how people think of us. We just gotta learn to accept it.” 

“Well, I think that's dumb.” I stuck out my tongue and picked at the grass below me, throwing it up into the air. Pau never did anything to wrong people. He would go out of his way to mow their yards or paint their fences. Mrs. Grant just didn’t know him that well, if she did, she’d see why he deserved her caramel candies too. “You’re good Pau, a real cowboy.” 

He laughed a little, though it sounded strained, and tipped his hat down to cover his eyes. “You’re a dumb kid,” he said, putting down his brush and wiping some sweat off the back of his neck, “But thanks.” 

We finished the fence by the time the sun was beginning to set, and Ms. Carter giggled and swatted playfully at Pau’s arms for an eternity before she paid him. When we made it back to the truck, Pau rubbed at his shoulder where she had managed to smack him with one of her bangle bracelets. 

“You should check for bruises” 

He gave me a look but still rolled up his sleeve, “Hush up.” 

When we made it back home, the earth had turned golden, and I ran through the grass of the front yard before Dex tackled me to the ground, sniffing all along my arms and shirt as I erupted into a fit of laughter. Pau came to lay beside us, his hat placed on his chest. I stared up at the clouds, taking in their sweeping hills that laid out like mountains across our flat horizon like in the movies. 

I let out a whistle, something I had been practicing for weeks now, and Pau gave me a hum of agreement, though he didn’t smile like usual.  

“One day I’m going to head out there, and I’m going to have a ranch, and you can come live on it with me,” I said, and Pau sighed, sitting up and leaning back on his hands. 

“I have to tell you something, Kit.” He said. 

I sat up beside him, combing away at some of the grass that had managed to get stuck in my hair.  

“What's wrong Pau?” 

He had this strange look on his face again, like he was far from me, and unable to draw himself back in. I watched him squint at the sun before he looked at me, the crow's feet by his eyes still showing like he was looking at something bright. 

“I have to,” he paused, his mouth still hanging open for a moment as he took in the tilt of my head, “I’m heading west. I’m gonna go find one of those big cattle ranches you’re always talkin’ about.”  

My eyes got big, and I jumped up to my knees to shake him by the shoulders, “Pau! You have to take me with you.” I said, begging with my fingers laced together. 

He shook his head softly, putting one of his rough hands on top of mine, “No Kit. You can’t come.” 

I felt a deep pain in my chest, stinging enough that I ripped my hands away to wrap around my middle. 

“Why not?” I said, soft and cracking as he gazed down at me. He rubbed at the back of his neck; his eyebrows knitted together. 

“It’s complicated. You have to stay here, with your ma and pa.” He tried to meet my eyes again, but I was too busy picking grass out of the ground, ruthless in my attack. 

“Kit, you won’t have a life if you come with me. You stay here, you’ll get to go to school, get a nice comfy job, and grow up to be someone you should be.” He sounded like Papa, and I never hated Pau more. I tried to plug my ears so he would go away, but he grabbed at my arms. 

“No, you can’t go. It isn’t fair!” I shook my head back and forth, kicking my feet as he just rubbed up and down my arms to calm me down. I wouldn’t. I refused to stop my fit even though I knew it wasn’t helping. The second he let go of me, I knew in my bones he would disappear, so I just kept yelling until his patience ran thin. “I can help. I can be a cowboy. You can teach me.” 

“Kit stop. No one needs me here; your daddy asked me to leave so I’m going.” He grabbed me tight and shook me. I went still in his arms, “I’m going kid, it’s already been decided.”  

“I need you,” I said, my voice soft and my throat tight. The sun felt like it was burning into me, and I wanted to let it, so I could have an excuse as to why I wanted to shrivel up into Pau’s lap and have him hold me. He softened his grip, sighing, and looking down to where Dex lay next to us whining.  

“No, you don’t.” He shook his head. 

“But if you leave I can’t-” 

“I ain’t your daddy, Kit.” He said with finality, and my heart felt cold and alone, “You have one. He's a good man. Don't you ever say he ain’t because I was raised with him, and I’ll know you’re lying. He’s already gotten me out of enough messes to make up a lifetime.”  

I shook my head again, looking down, “He isn’t you Pau.” 

Pau let go of me, grabbing his cigarettes from his back pocket and shoving them in my face.  

“You see these?” He shoved them closer, and I bit at the inside of my cheek to stop myself from snapping back at him 

“You think these are good? Do you think any of the things I do are things I wanna see you do?”  

It was a pretty box, the red always peeking out the top of Pau’s jeans. He took out one of the cigarettes, almost crushing it in his hand. 

“This, this is shit.” He threw it down and stood up to crush it under his boot. He looked giant, and unforgiving, like Papa when he had found out I had broken one of his old globes playing sheriff.  

My nose started to feel runny, and the tight funny feeling in my throat bubbled up until I could feel myself choking on it. The sight of him made my stomach feel hollow, and I ran away before he could say anything else.  

He called after me, but I didn’t listen, crashing through the screen door right into Papa’s arms. He stood shocked as I cried into his crisp white shirt, hitting his sides. The fabric scratched at my face, and my tears left it stained and ugly, but he didn’t push me away, so I stayed. 

“Harley, what has gotten into you?” He said it lightly, one of his hands placed softly on my back. It felt awkward, and he didn’t hold me closer than he had to. He looked around the room, and I knew it was for Mama. I butted my head against his stomach, and he furrowed his brow as he looked down at me. I glared right back, and he sighed, a tired look pulling at his face that made me want to scream. 

“Why don’t you go clean yourself up, your mother is making chicken tonight, maybe you could help her?” I detached myself from him before I could start yelling, running up the stairs to hide in my room.  

I sat huddled up in bed, the quilt Mama had made me drawn around my shoulders until the sun had fully set, and I could see the moon peeking up behind the trees through my window. I opened it to hear the crickets sing and leaned out to feel the warm summer air pass over me. Mama had called me to dinner almost an hour before, but I couldn’t bring myself to travel back downstairs. Pau would be there, picking his teeth clean of chicken and grunting his way through Papa’s questions. They would fight, and I knew this because they always fought, and I would be stuck in the middle of it, trying to defend Pau from any of the nasty names Papa called him. For the first time, I didn’t want to defend him. 

As I began to count the stars starting to dot the sky, I heard the muffled shouts echoing from downstairs. There was a clattering of plates, and as I sunk to the floor to press my ear up against my rug, I could hear Papa from below. 

“-No work for you here! I’ve tried Paul, I’ve always tried to help you, but you haven’t made it easy. Now you’re filling Harley’s head with these delusions-”  

I listened to Pau grumble something, the first part hard to make out until he started to get louder. 

“-Not a damn charity case Charlie, I don’t need it, and don’t you bring the kid into this. This ain’t her mess.”  

Their voices both came and went, in and out, growing louder and softer until there was a large clattering of plates, loud enough I could hear a glass break and mama let out a shout. It was quiet for a moment after, the entire house falling still. I listened as a chair shoved back and his footsteps stomped as Pau grumbled out a response. The screen door slammed open and shut, and as the smell of smoke began to travel up through the window, I shut it as quickly as I could. It felt too late though, my eyes were already watering, and as much as I tried to blink them away, stubborn little tears managed to escape me. I called them shit.  

I must have stood there for ages, staring out my window and crying, because by the time I came back to myself the moon had risen above the trees. There was a knock at my door, and instead of spitting and cussing every nasty word I knew, I moved to slide down against it and knock back, too tired to do much else. 

“Hey, Kit.”  

“Hi, Pau.” I wanted to call him shit. I crossed my arms across my chest and felt as he slumped against the door on the other side to sit beside me. 

“Did Papa tell you that you have to leave tonight?” I looked down at the streaks of light from the hallway that wrapped around his shadow and stretched across my floor. 

“He warned me about a month ago. He just tried to give me money,” he said. 

“Oh. Did you take it?” 

“No.” 

“Oh.” I wanted to curse him, tell him he was dumb, and have him get angry with me so I could have an excuse to do so. I couldn’t bring myself to. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was leaving sooner,” he paused for a moment, I heard his head rest against the door with a small thud, “I didn’t know how to tell you.” 

My chest felt tight, and I pulled down my hat to cover my eyes. I didn’t say anything, not trusting my voice. The door’s white paint was chipped at the bottom, and I picked at it until Pau knocked again. 

“You still there kid?” 

I brought my knees to my chest, hugged them tightly, and closed my eyes shut. 

“I could be a good cowboy Pau,” I sounded so shaky and small, like Dex when Mama yelled at him for doing something bad, “I am one.” 

Pau didn’t say anything back for a while, but I could hear him bump his head again, and I wondered if he felt as small as I did. “I know you are, Kit. You’re better than me,” he said, speaking softly but the crackly sound in his throat still broke up his words so he sounded like one of Papa’s scratched records. I never wanted to sound like that. “You have to give these things time, though. One day when you’re older, you’ll still be walking around in your boots, and you’ll be better than all of us at whatever you decide to do with your life.” I could hear the smile in his voice as he spoke, and fighting against every angry bone in my body, I opened the door. 

He had to tilt his head up a little to look me in the eyes from where he was still sat on the ground. It was like he was just seeing something for the first time. His eyes were a little watery, and they squinted up at me like I was a stranger, but there must have been something he recognized because he grinned wide, and I was pulled down into his arms. 

I let him tug me down and rested my head against his chest to hear his heartbeat. It thundered like the sound of horses.  

“You’re a good man, Pau. Mama and Papa are lying.” I said.  

He nodded his head and rocked me in his lap. It wasn’t easy as I was getting taller and my legs stuck out a bit too much to be comfortable, but his arms still cradled around me like I was precious. 

“You are too, Kit.” 

After he gathered all his things from his room and shoved them into little boxes and bags, I walked him outside. I carried his duffle bag across the yard, and he pretended not to notice as I struggled a bit to get down the front steps. By the time I made it to his car, he had already thrown everything else inside. He took the last bag and threw it in his front seat, dusting off his hands after. I copied him, pretending not to hear him snort.  

“Guess this is it, huh kid?” 

I looked up to where he stood, hands on his hips and his head facing towards the open road. 

“Yeah, for now. I’ll see you again though.” I said, shrugging and wiping my still runny nose. 

“That so?” 

“Yeah, when I get a car, I’ll drive out west until I find you.” 

He looked down at me, his eyes going all soft, “Not gonna give up on me?” 

I shook my head, grinning up at him, “Nah, you need someone looking out for you.” 

He gave a big whooping laugh, his head shooting back. I laughed with him, so hard that I had to brace my hands on my thighs to keep myself from falling forwards. Pau pulled himself together after a while, sliding into his front seat with a hopeful spark in his eye. 

“I’ll send you a postcard once I find somewhere to settle down, then maybe, when you get that car, you won’t have to just wander around for too long.” He said, fiddling with the radio until bluegrass began to belt out of his truck. 

“Okay Pau, don’t forget.” 

He tipped his hat to me as the truck started up. 

“I won’t.” 

He drove away after that, and I held my hand up to reach for his car until he disappeared down the street, the light from his headlights fading into the night sky above. 

Does anyone want to read a short story about a trans kid at the age where you don't have a word for what you are yet, or really a full idea of what you are, but you know what you want to be so you cling to it and the people around you that represent it?

Because I wrote something like that! It's called Cowboys (or Good Men, but we won't get into that whole story), and it's about a kid named Kit who wants nothing more than to be a cowboy like 'her' uncle Pau! It's a small slice of life/coming of age story that showcases the unconditional love of a family's two misfits, alongside subtly highlighting a less talked about stage of growing up transgender in the south.

If anyone is interested in reading it, please let me know, and I'll reblog it through this post 👍

The horrors are too soul destroying and harrowing to shit post about. I need to etch them into the sides of his urn, I need his ghost hanging over my shoulder, tellin' me, "Go get em son."

I need him to howl at the moon with me or some shit.

Toxic relationship beams can't fuckin TOUCH ME! My girl is the light of my life! The fire in my soul! She has the compassion of a kid saving a baby bird that fell out of its nest. She's got laughter like the sound of spring rain. My lover!?! Her warmth turns winter to a PUDDLE.

She's super cool, guys, and deserves everything she wants and more.

"Daddy issues? Well, duh, how would I be the coyote cowboy I am today if I had a stable relationship with my father?"

I say as my therapist slowly nods her head and scribbles something down on her clipboard.

I also do! I've done it for yearssssss.

NEEED to have a tail to wag

it feels so wrong to not have one T^T

I fucking hate when people who aren't my pack touch my head :3

I'm a canine who loves head massages from my pack. That is all.

I love them so muchhhh. My friends always get onto me for how many wolves I have in our worlds 😔

Canine culture is feeling connected to Minecraft dogs/wolves even if you aren’t a wolfkin just because they are just the purest form of dog, companions and protectors

"YoU cAnT aCt LiKe ThAt If YoU wAnT pEoPlE tO sEe YoU As PrOFeSsIoNaL-"

I DONT CARE I DONT CARE I DO WHAT I WANT! ILL BE A DOG AND ILL WRITE A DAMN BOOK AND ILL TICK AND ILL BE A FUCKIN WEIRDO SHUT UPPPPPPPPPP

Does anyone want to read a short story about a trans kid at the age where you don't have a word for what you are yet, or really a full idea of what you are, but you know what you want to be so you cling to it and the people around you that represent it?

Because I wrote something like that! It's called Cowboys (or Good Men, but we won't get into that whole story), and it's about a kid named Kit who wants nothing more than to be a cowboy like 'her' uncle Pau! It's a small slice of life/coming of age story that showcases the unconditional love of a family's two misfits, alongside subtly highlighting a less talked about stage of growing up transgender in the south.

If anyone is interested in reading it, please let me know, and I'll reblog it through this post 👍

Chalica falling on finals week is a sick joke. How am I to spread all my good will when I have to pull 2 all nighters in a row to get everything submitted in time 😔

I will simply celebrate this week.

Questioning being fictionkin??? I have been for a little over a year now. However, I feel like despite how much I've looked into it and thought about it, I still don't know???

I can't tell if it's an actual part of my identity or if it's just because I worked on adapting this character for such a long time that he's just basically become me. I've used him as a way to work through things for so long, whether having conversations with him just to voice issues out loud, writing my own trauma through him, or just pretending to be him for comfort. Granted at times with the last scenario it's been a more unpleasant feeling, but sometimes just having the idea of his presence beside me is reassuring. He's like a friend I can always rely on, and if he needed a place to stay, I'd offer my own without a moment of hesitation.

I don't know if I'd consider myself to be him, but it feels like more than just a favorite character. He isn't quite me, but he isn't quite not me. Does any of this make sense? I am genuinely looking for advice if anyone has any.

Tourettes are so silly until you're watching me spasm on the bed because the muscles in my right arm are screaming at me for laying down on it. Now I have to stretch. STRETCH! GET UP! STRETCH! APPLY PRESSURE! I DONT CARE IF THE ARM IS SORE BECAUSE WE'VE ALREADY APPLIED PRESSURE! MORE!

And I have a sore arm so I can't rest now.

Or like when I was a kid, and one of my tics was that, whenever I tried to lay down, my body would force itself to sit up and stretch out my torso as much as possible making it really hard to sleep.

Oh. Or when I can't stop rolling my stomach even to the point where I start cramping from it and can't do anything but lay in my mom's lap and whine because it fucking hurts.

Oh yeah! Or when I can't stop rolling my shoulders and they begin to ache but again I can't fuckin stop.

These are some of my more extreme tics, but it... Genuinely baffles me how many people treat Tourettes as a joke because all they see is someone making random noises or movements.

Even on that note, do you think that's okay? To laugh at someone who's already embarrassed about something they can't control? Do you think I like snapping my neck to the side as hard as possible? Or clearing my throat over and over again, or having my entire face start ticking for a minute? I have had multiple people (yes multiple!) tell me, to my face, that they want Tourettes. Why??? So you can say curse words randomly and not get in trouble for it? Did you know only about 10% of people with Tourettes have Coprolalia? Or maybe it's so you can just feel different? Okay. Would you tell someone in a wheelchair you wish you couldn't walk? Because that's pretty shitty.

Anyways. I didn't mean to turn this into a whole rant. My arm just hurts right now, and I'm tired of trying to find some comradery from my community only to be met with some random dude laughing at a girl having a tic attack. Be nice to those who are different from you.

I get this. Before I awakened and before I met my pack, I didn't realize the full extent of how touch starved I was. Now, touch is so normalized for me. I'm constantly hanging off someone's arm, leaning on their shoulders, just gently touching in some way. I love dog piling with all my friends in my living room. I love how easy it is to hug them and ruffle their hair. Aaaaaaa I love my pack. I hope you find some people you can do this with too. Promise they're out there.

Anyone else wish huddling/cuddling was more normalized with folk outside your partner? With it getting cold outside, I wish nothing more than to be close and huddle with all my loved ones. And not in a romantic sense, but more in a sense where a pack of animals keep close with one another to conserve body heat and make it through the winter.

It’s hard to bring this up to humans. Of course you can get hugs from family and snuggles with a significant other, but anyone outside of that will take it the wrong way. But I’m an animal! I yearn to be touched! I want to cuddle close to my companions and keep them warm! I want to feel connected!

College class scheduling is evil. You know what isn't? Going for a hike in the cold winter air. I'm tired of concrete and brick. I wanna go get in them damn woods.

I need one of those dog with anxiety patches

Skywars? Oh... No. No no no. My Minecraft minigame of choice has to be tower wars, I have some class.

I totally didn't just play with a track pad my whole life and can't do crits, and I'm just really good at evading hits because of it

This is me btw. In case you forgot. I am them and they are me.

lets frollick like the chernobyl radioactive dogs Okay?

All my love goes out towards the unsuspected badasses of the world. All the cowboys with no boots, all the punks with no leather. Dressing the part is only a portion of the identity. It doesn't define it. Your ideologies make you who you are and I fuckin see y'all.

Hey, I get most of my wolf shifts in the winter. I also have a playlist I only listen to in the winter that helps me feel more wolfish. Here ya go.

I'm having phantom shifts right now! I can feel my ears sticking straight up, taking in all the sounds. I can feel my tail flicking beside me. This is so nice :]

Be there! For! Your! People!

when i say community

i mean staying with the victims of violence until the emts get there

i mean not letting the cops get them alone even though you just met

i mean carrying around extra pain and allergy meds not just for yourself, but in case anyone else needs them too

i mean giving them to anyone regardless of if you actually like them as a person

i mean password sharing and spreading links to your favorite pirating site

i mean helping that stranger set up a workaround for their broken computer

i mean helping them understand the weird ass language in a job application

i mean helping people understanding medical information when their doctors did a bad job

i mean letting someone sleep on your couch so they don't have to go home

i mean checking if people have rides home

i mean "text me so i know youre safe when you get home"

i mean "have you eaten today"

i mean "have you eaten enough today"

i mean "what do you want, i'm buying tonight"

i mean "hey does anyone have experience with this med, my doctor wants to put me on it but i'm not sure"

i mean "here's a zine on going off of psych meds with minimal risk"

i mean "hey you weren't at the show tonight, are you doing ok?"

i mean "i have a spare room if you ever need it"

i mean "i'm here, i promise i'm here"

i saw in ur therianthropy day that you have a pack!! could i ask how you went about finding them?

They're just my irl friends :]

I got really lucky with my girlfriend also being an alterhuman. I grew up in a small town where every alternative kid just clung to one another. My group doesn't really call itself a pack, but I see them as my pack. We're like a family. We talk to each other all the time. They don't mind when I act dogish and even join me at times (hence the howling at the moon comment). It also helps that we have a weekly hangout where I can crowd them into my home and just watch over them while they relax. It itches my dog brain just right.

I think community is everything. So if you're looking for a pack, or at least something you consider a pack and you dont want to look online, focus on that. Only one other person in mine is an alterhuman. The rest are humans. Focus on finding people you can be your most authentic self around and encourage them to be themselves. It doesn't have to be a big group. Some packs are just made out of a wolf and their mate. It can just be you and someone you care about.

The most important part of having a pack to me is respect and support. It does wonders for my mental health and gives me so much species euphoria to have such a good support system.

So if you can find some folks in your area who you can trust, and who even if you don't say it explicitly still accept your identity with all of its traits, I think you've got yourself a pack :]

Anyways! A pack is different for everyone, so if you are looking for a pack made up of alterhumans, this post may not have helped, lol. But I hope maybe it gave you something.

Writers hell. I am in writers hell. I am chewing on the bars of my enclosure, trying to finish this short story draft and driving myself insane.

^^^ me if you were wondering.