Me Wrapping Up Christmas Presents.

Undertale deltarune theories that make me cry compilation

Why are so many people convinced that babies are trying to manipulate them? They’re babies. They literally don’t know how to do anything except suck and scream and be confused. They’re not “manipulating” you. They’re experiencing extreme back pain.

Did you know that? That babies get back pain? They can grow over an inch in one day. Their bones are stretching and it hurts a lot and they don’t know why. Give them a break.

Awakening

No one told me how good it was going to feel.

They talked on and on about how I would lose my values, my thoughts, even my soul.  They told me I would be damned for eternity, trapped inside of myself and unable to so much as blink, much less scream.

They told me that my 'Owner' would ignore my need for control, would take parts from me until the only thing left was a shell of myself, a thing.

I believed Them.

I still do, to be honest.

The problem is that ever since I've woken up from the implantation surgery...I can Feel It.

Her implant, like a seed taking root in my nerves and muscles.  Wrapping around my spine like a long-lost lover, communicating not with mere words but in feeling, in intention, in silent memory.

And it feels impossibly, unbelievably good.  Each second brings yet another pulsing wave of pleasure emanating from my spine. 

Training, She had said.  Conditioning, she silently added with Her eyes, like violet storms.

And even though it is nothing more than simple pleasure, even though I know exactly what She is doing...I can tell it's working.

I can feel the soft curl of a smile on my lips, when I get distracted.  I can feel it guide me.  Making me want to obey.  The stick is unneeded when the carrot is unable to be resisted.

She told me I'm going to feel this way every day of the rest of my life. 

I cried.

I don't know if it was from frustration, or relief.

...Or maybe I do know.  Maybe I do, and the thought of knowing terrifies me more.

I am unable to ever be alone again.  Unable to ever make a mistake, unless She wants me to. 

I am unable to hate Her anymore.

Not that I think I ever did, not really.  She was...is difficult to get along with, to be sure.  But She listens to me.  I know She does.  And I'm healthier than I've been in a long, long time.  It is, if nothing else, a decent life promised to me.

Ah.

It...the implant rewarded me for that thought. 

...hm.

Would I have thought this before now?

Doubtful.

But that me had yet to understand.  Was convinced they could escape, if only they tried hard enough.

I have been disavowed of that notion.

She promised me as much, and She has kept every one of her promises.  I know that now. That no matter how I pound at these walls, there is truly no escaping Her. Not now, not ever. And that I soon may change into someone, something else.

I should be scared right now, I think.

I should be terrified.

But that is an unneeded emotion.  Fear is a harsh teacher, one necessary to guide our clumsy evolution.  It sang to the rapid beating of your heart: 'Respect that which you do not understand, and avoid that which hurts you.'

And though I still have yet to understand Her...I know She will not hurt me.  And I know that my fear would ultimately achieve little and less.

And so if fear and terror are unneeded, why not prune it way?  Why not excise it, so that the wound may heal?

Ah.

I see.

I suppose...I suppose I will change. 

And I suppose I am changing, even now.

And perhaps...

Perhaps I already am changed. 

Already different.  I tasted nectar and ambrosia, and now the bread and wine of mortal men is but ash and mud in my mouth.

For I am no longer in control.

And I am glad that They never told me how Good that feels.

Because it is the anniversary of his death, I wanted to share a small story about my grandfather.

Before I knew that I was intersex, I identified as a trans man. And I went the way any trans man has to go if he wants to transition in my country. My parents thankfully were supportive but I was afraid to tell my grandparents. My grandparents were German and lived/were raised during the third reich. While both of them never said or acted in a way that suggested that they had fascist views (my grandfather was until he died part of a leftwing political party), but there still was this fear in me. "They are old, they grew up surrounded by abhorrent beliefs...". And then there was my aunt. Who would constantly claim that my grandfather was homophobic.

The problem was, back then, there were no openly out gay people in our area, so I never got the chance to see my grandfather interact with someone who was queer. So I just believed her. Because she was so insistent on it. And because it confirmed my fears and my brain loves to be constantly afraid.

But I knew I wanted to come out. I had to, eventually, because I had stopped my estrogen treatment (back then, I did not know that I got that because I was intersex) and went on testosterone instead and first physical changes began to show. We all lived in one big house, so my grandparents would eventually notice.

I was so afraid that my father at some point offered to talk to his parents. I waited outside in the hallway that led to their kitchen and listened.

My father explained, easy to understand, that I was going to transition from female to male because I felt terrible in my body. My grandfather asked, "Is that why the child* is so depressed all this time?" I had been in and out of multiple clinics for manic depression at that point. My father gave a yes. And my grandmother made the incredibly selfish comment, "Can't that wait until I am dead?"

Before I even got time to be upset, my grandfather slammed his fist down on the table. I had never seen or heard him do anything like that before. He was a very calm and collected man who preferred to leave the room before he got too angry. "No, it can't wait. The child gets to get well now. And if that is what is going to help, then it needs to be done."

From that day on, he never used my deadname again or used the wrong pronouns for me. Sometimes, he would stop in a sentence to think and remind himself, but he did always address me correctly.

He celebrated with me when my name was legally changed. He built the bed frame for me and my boyfriend's bed when we moved in together, just like he had built the first adult sized bedframe for me when I outgrew my small bed. He drove my boyfriend to his chemo sessions because my grandfather also had cancer and knew how terrifying it was to go alone.

Did he fully understand what it means to be intersex? To transition? No. But he understood that one of his loved ones was suffering and that he could help to alleviate that pain. And so he did.

He taught me calligraphy. He taught me how to sew. He taught me bookbinding. He gave me many gifts.

But the biggest gift he gave me was, that when someone hated me for what I am, I could stomach it. Because this man was willing to unlearn the bigotry he had been taught for decades so he could love me for who I am.

*in my grandpa's dialect it was normal to refer to children as just 'the child' (genderless)

Well, okay, but what if she were to hug us instead? Eh? Eh?

After the last piece I did with Eva and David responding to fan mail, they got a lot more. Sorry for pretty much only drawing these two lately, they just got real popular suddenly lol. But maybe if the other girls get some fan mail / questions, they'll give some responses too. 👀

:)

Art for NikkisFloof on Twitter

casual-formal-winter-party-sport

layton fam

Papyrus, what's your favourite food?