“If you saw her in these moments, you might think she was collecting her thoughts in order to go forward. But I see it another way: Her mind is being overwhelmed by two processes that must simultaneously proceed at full steam. One is to deal with and live in the present world. The other is to re-experience and mourn something that happened long ago. It is as though her lightness pulls her toward heaven, but the extra gravity around her keeps her earthbound.”—Steve Martin, The Pleasure of My Company (via larmoyante)
Looking for someone else with ASPD spectrum to talk to, specifically:
- 4 or higher on the LSRP scale (3.5 may work)
- sadistic socio/psycho
- good blender/”high functioning” w/o domesticating one’s own instincts too much
- impulse control/spectrum flux
I’m putting this out there because while I have a handful of aquaintances offline also with ASPD, they either are high functioning due to being extremely different than myself (I am “high functioning” as well), or they are nomadic.
Up until recently things were well and good, however I recently took up with someone who is a hybrisophiliac and also on the spectum, and NOT boring/annoying, and therefore a trigger to me. While I’m handling it splendidly, I’d enjoy someone in my area on the spectrum to yammer with/sound board at/get insight from.
Note: I know damn well putting this on tumblr = it can be engulfed by annoying people is a strong probability. However there’s no harm in attempts.
So that said: before you contact me, realize I’m just looking to talk shop/survival. That’s all.
What to do when you’re off work with your husband in the snow in the woods?
Bake all the breakfasts together, Harry Potter marathon, cuddle in nests and read, download and trance out/dance to witchhouse in the juju room, weave spells of wonder, lucid dream/do astral work, text my other lovey bratmonster across town, commune with Baph, and watch the white outs.
Manic minded today.
I had liked these walls. I had enjoyed the comfort of having them.
But now I evolve with such force that all I can do is watch them dissolve in the middle as I barrel on through, antlers lowered to brace for an impact that may never come.
I am not ready for this, I will never be, but that doesn’t matter.
Last night was fantastic.. making a cake with her for Lemures and eating the sugarcovered madness (zebra cake on funfetti).
Cuddling and hair brushing and myLiliJor’s first impact scene on the bed in the juju room full of spankings and floggers and canes and thudders and my rubber knotted flogger and knives (note to the inexperienced: knives + impact = blood in most cases, so be sure you’re ok with your toys getting fluid bonded and you play safe for FTD’s).
I found she’s silent and giggles when I hit harder, which was something I fell into and got a rhythm with easily (it’s been a while since I wasn’t with loud squirmers). The talking was educational and playful on my end with a moment of wild eyes and harder hits here and there when we pushed further, grinning because it kept me from biting into her.
Wound down under down comforters and hello kitty blankets and snuggled and watched silly things with the hubby on youtube (anything Elijah Wood looking bashful or psychotic).
She’s walking around black and blue and pink today. I have all these pictures she took but the understanding that they can’t be uploaded, no matter how much I like to show her off, makes me more riled up. It causes a princess-hoarder mentality and that just makes for creeper hands.
We have a kink party on Tuesday to attend together, where she said she’ll behave (aka not drunkenly slip her hand down my pants and her tongue in my ear and run - though I don’t believe her).
I told her that’s fine. She can behave.
“The forests are very old. The forests are older than man. They have seen the gods die. And man is naked in a forest of dust, dry leaves and roads covered with leaves and dust.”—Paul Celan (via wolveswilltearusapartt)
For us, eating and being eaten belong to the terrible secret of love. We love only the person we can eat. The person we hate we ‘can’t swallow.’ That one makes us vomit. Even our friends are inedible. If we were asked to dig into our friend’s flesh we would be disgusted. The person we love we dream only of eating. That is, we slide down that razor’s edge of ambivalence.
The story of torment itself is a very beautiful one. Because loving is wanting and being able to eat up and yet to stop at the boundary. And there, at the tiniest beat between springing and stopping, in rushes fear. The spring is already in mid-air. The heart stops. The heart takes off again. Everything in love is oriented towards this absorption.
At the same time real love is a don’t-touch, yet still an almost-touching. Tact itself: a phantom touching.
Eat me up, my love, or else I’m going to eat you up.
Fear of eating, fear of the edible, fear on the part of the one of them who feels loved, desired, who wants to be loved, desired, who desires to be desired, who knows there is no greater proof of love than the other’s appetite, who is dying to be eaten up, who says or doesn’t say, but who signifies: I beg you, eat me up. Want me down to the marrow. And yet manage it so as to keep me alive. But I often turn about or compromise, because I know that you won’t eat me up, in the end, and I urge you: bite me.
Sign my death with your teeth.
”—Helene Cixous, “The Love of the Wolf” (via fleurishes)
I’m offended by people using the term cishet for alot of reasons. Firstly because you never know. You never know when someone is trans* And alot of people who’re trans* don’t want you to know.
Yes, I get it, cisgendered people are happy with their gender, and don’t have to deal with the same things trans* persons do. But most cisgendered people just so happen to have other problems. And I get that some cisgendered people are fucking assholes, and I get that some heterosexual people are fucking assholes.
But get this, when people use ‘cishet’ as an insult it makes me, a transgendered person, feel like shit. Because you’re making fun of people for what they identify as. the same thing trans* persons have to avoid, fight, and work through their entire life. It doesn’t matter who you’re doing this to, it’s fucking disgusting.
It doesn’t matter if its ‘not the same’ or ‘not as offensive’ or ‘a joke’ it’s just as bad. cisphobia pisses me off so badly.
Because sure there’s alot of cisgendered people who don’t understand and are fucking cock suckers, but let me tell you about how if it weren’t for the help of many people, 99% of which just so happening to be cisgendered, I wouldn’t be who I am today. I wouldn’t be the fucking man I am today. You know where I would be? In my fucking grave.
You don’t know a person just because they’re cisgendered and happy to be that way. you don’t fucking know a person if they’re transgendered and happy to be that way. why don’t we stop fucking sterotyping, and stop fucking hating AS MANY PEOPLE AS FUCKING POSSIBLE instead of pushing our hate toward a group of people who is the media’s vision of ‘normal’.
“Whatever comes, don’t push it away. When it goes, do not grieve. Everything is coming and going. Just like the clouds floating by. They just come and go. Stay only as unmoving Awareness.”—Mooji (via only-the-unloved-hate)
“Topping or Domming a brat is a constant balancing act, especially if the handler is also a brat. Too much push from either side turns aggression from playful to hurtful, but too much give causes boredom and for the brat(s) to act out more in hopes of attaining the balance again. It’s a rough and cruel kink dynamic, often too fast and with lines too blurred for many to find a comfortable medium. But those that play this way oft find nothing more pleasing, and fight tooth and nail or waste away from guilt or boredom trying to find such a dyamic.”—"There is no Yellow: Essays on Brats" by AFOF