Hélène Delmaire (French, B. 1987, Lille, France) - Untitled, 2015, Painting

When one of my hearthomes IS Minecraft.

nonhuman suggestion: build your hearthome in minecraft

Hghh I should go check on my FH settlements

roaming around the Commonwealth Far Harbor 48/?

I'm pretty sure I wanna make my next mask a raccoon. I'm trying to make one for all my theriotypes, so I'll need to do raccoon, wolf, and coyote still. Wolf and coyote have similar shapes, though, and I wanna make something a little different than my usual... idk we'll see :D

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 👍

One thing I can never forgive someone for is hating on nervous wreck Travis Miles. Oh, you think he's annoying? You don't like how he rambles and screams every other song? TOO BAD! That's my boy. And he's so right for screaming. I, too, am screaming at everything going on around me in fallout 4. Shits crazy.

I love you, nervous Travis, you and your little radio trailer.

Listen to Preston people

I love being a silly little guy on the internet. In real life, I am constantly plagued with deep, all-seeing, and despairing eyes. On Tumblr, I'm just a weird dog. That's beautiful, I think.

So I have this bit, right? It's been a while since I've done it, but if I bring it up with my friends, they can still easily understand or remember the joke.

It's called the Dan Rules. It's often comedically egotistical and vain and was made because out of our little group, it was a joke that I am (as an act) an eccetric (maybe enigmatic if I'm feeling fancy) person who does whatever the hell I want.

If people thought to question my behavior, it was often quickly followed with a "that's just Dan" from my friends and easily dismissed. Sure, some of my boldness was probably left over from my middle school years, where I felt I had to lean into my weirdness completely so people would see me more as a joke than a freak.

But then I found myself in a safe, accepting environment, one where the need to bite and snarl and run away never came. I waited a while for it to arrive for me to feel the need to play the part of the fool for my newfound companions entertainment. It shocked me when I was left with genuine love and compassion. I leaned out of self-deprecating humor and completely into the (very obviously joking and fake) role of an egotistical short and angry ruler. For fucks sake we still have the name of the group chat as "Dantopia". I still did the bit to entertain my friends, to keep them laughing at my antics. But this time, it was accompanied by my own laughter. I enjoyed a new sense of freedom it brought.

The Dan Rules came out of when we were messing around, and I'd lean into this foolish king role, and I would proclaim something insane or childish. A popular one was, "Dan is never wrong." Often followed by a warranted scoff.

But the second rule is a good one, I think, one that really shone through as a reminder that I am not now who I was before.

"I do what I want."

I hadn't had much freedom before I met my current group of friends. I was quiet and kept quiet at times. I felt muzzled and chained, and as if I was a dog because someone forced a collar around my throat and pulled me on a leash.

It wasn't only that I didn't have the choice of self-expression, though. I'd also seen what happened to people who gave too much into reckless. I grew up with the weight of their actions carried on my shoulders, and while I have always been bold in my identity and beliefs, I was quiet and still when presented the opportunities to escape from situations where people kicked me down for who I was. I feared what would happen if I left my old group. Ironically, this fear led me to be isolated.

I found myself almost completely alone in the pandemic, and my only saving grace was a new school with new people. New people who didn't tell me to shut up or that I was ugly or that I needed to stop acting like an animal or they'd treat me like one. Instead, I met friends who handled me gently and taught me it was okay to hug just as it's okay to bark, and they welcomed me. I felt at home. I felt as if I knew myself completely.

So, with the second rule, which I still follow to this day, I added a private note.

"I do what I want. Because I can trust myself to."

Know thyself

I can trust myself to bark or scowl or growl just as much as I can to love and kiss and hug. I can stay aware of what is and isn't good and how much or how little I can trust someone. I can be bold and loving all at once and welcome others with open arms and flashing fangs.

I am in complete control over myself, and even when I am doing something so I can see my friends laugh, I am also doing it because I can, and I do what I want.

The pipeline of wolves and dogs being my favorite animals as a kid into realizing I actually just am them. I bought this werewolf costume because I think they're cool... No other reason 👀

My favorite animals are actually stingrays and mantarays :3

I'm trying to draw how my dog form looks. The face of the second drawing feels more fitting. I'm not a physical alterhuman, but this is how I can see myself looking, or how I feel like I should look (when I feel more dog at least)