me after topping: was i good? did i do good? did you feel good? did i actually give you pleasure? and make you feel really good?? omg are you gonna masturbate thinking about it??? am i good?

people complaining that any critique of a thing they like ruins it for them is such a skill issue. personally i can spend 10 hours a day critiquing the things i like and still enjoy them passionately and wholeheartedly

ever since i was a little girl i knew i wanted to be infertile

i say this with love: yall will make yourselves feel bad about fucking anything, i swear to god. you feel bad about feeling too much. you feel bad about feeling too little. you feel bad about what makes you feel good. you feel bad about not knowing what you like. you feel bad for not being able to survive easily in a world hostile to you. you feel bad for the tactics that you use to survive. you feel bad for how you identify. you feel bad for being unique. you feel bad for experiences that you share with millions of people. you suspect that every feeling, experience, desire, fear, and question in your brain is somehow evidence that you don't deserve to exist.

i can be so so reassuring about all of these things but ultimately you are the one that's gonna have to make a conscious choice to stop measuring yourself in these ways. there is no authority who gets to determine whether you have the right to exist or not. you already do. there is no body that votes on whether you get to feel, identify, or think as you do. you already do. your existence as it is is non-negotiable. stop trying to justify yourself. you're already here. the world is going to have to deal with it anyway.

All For Me

The scenery is familiar. For all the regal golden trims, the dark red decorations and soft carpeting, a view can only be so grand and luxurious when you’ve seen it so many times. Yet despite the familiarity with the setting, there’s an air of wonder, the feeling that this place is part of something larger than most people realize by just walking into an obscured, little-known club.

But it was a job, and a high-paying one at that.

Despite how low the attendance was on some days, the gigs here were coveted. Reliable, well-paid in advance, quiet clientele – from everything Ashe could tell, the club was open most days but only offered jobs on a limited basis, perhaps by seniority, perhaps to encourage new talent. All she knew was if they offered a night, you’d be stupid not to take it.

“Here you are!” The receptionist chirped enthusiastically. “Thanks for coming in tonight! You get two drinks – before or after the show doesn’t matter, as long as you’re all good for it. You know the drill.” She winked.

At the very least, people seemed to be recognizing her more and more lately. Ashe smiled and walked into the lobby, hand shielding her eyes from the bright neon light of the club’s motto shining above her. She headed down the hallway, drink tickets clasped in her other hand. She’d arrived a bit earlier than scheduled. A drink wouldn’t be the worst idea.

She found herself waiting at the bar, half sat in a seat as she checked her phone. It was early enough that the bar wasn’t staffed yet, though there were employees and a few patrons milling about. If Ashe was honest with herself, it wasn’t so much that she was being recognized as it was that people stared at her more often, these days. She’d been working hard lately – learning from every performance, changing her routines and outfits based on reception, working on the fine details of her makeup. As a performer, she was used to prolonged stares and attention, and a part of her took pride in the noticeable uptick compared to her previous times here. Though, maybe they’d just noticed she was tonight’s entertainment. Maybe the feeling of being watched, of being leered at was just plain old lust.

“First time at Ground Zero?” An unfamiliar voice caught Ashe’s attention. Their eyes wandered to her chest as she held the night-pass badge up half-heartedly, about to explain.

“Ah, no need, I see you’re entertainment. Well, don’t let me keep you!”

Ashe sighed as she watched the patron walk back towards the club floor. So much for being more recognizable lately.

No, no. That was hardly the approach to starting the night. Tonight, she was sexy, she was unattainable. She was confident. Her looks could kill. And by the end of the night, they’d never forget her.

“I remember you! Ashe, right? I’m Elle.”

Ashe looked up, visibly caught off guard. The woman couldn’t have been more than five years older than her, her hair swept into a short ponytail behind her. Most of the club members were older, but Ashe spotted a Member’s Only wristband on her hand holding a drink. Where had she gotten a drink?

“I mean how could I forget! That one night you did, I think maybe a couple of weeks ago… Phew!” The young woman mock swept at her forehead. “When you did that fake out, and it looked like you were about to fall off of the pole, but caught and lifted yourself before the very bottom, now that’s some lower body strength.”

Elle prattled on about the performance she had seen before Ashe had an opportunity to even speak. She did remember that performance – it was in fact over a month ago, before she’d started dedicatedly working on her routine, and she’d still apparently made enough of an impact that someone remembered the entire thing. It was enough to make her blush.

“You know, you’re actually kind of the reason I joined the club! It’s a whole process, with a waiting period and everything.” Elle flashed her wristband. “I’m still newish so I’ve got to wear this. I’ve been attending hoping you’d show up again, so I guess it’s my lucky day. You know, the other day I’d swung by and watched a show, not as good as you of course, but the performer then happened to…

…

“…ah, but it’s getting close to that time. Sorry the bartender hasn’t showed up yet. Do you want mine?” Elle offered her drink, before thinking otherwise and bringing it back to her side. “On second thought, don’t want to mess with your game. Find me after, and I’ll buy you one – how does that sound?”

She patted Ashe’s shoulder encouragingly twice and walked down the hallway, Ashe blinking away the flattering, albeit strange interaction she’d just had with the woman talking her ear off until her sense of time melted. She checked her phone and rushed to the dressing room with renewed vigor. Sure, she’d wanted to prepare a bit earlier, but the confidence boost was worth it.

Tonight, she was sexy, unattainable. Confident. In charge.

Tea Eggs!!

You know what I haven't written in a while? A cooking/food post! Someone asked me something on Twitter which got me thinking and I figured I'd finally write about making food again, so I'm pretty happy to have something to post on here again.

Immediately at the start of writing this I understand why recipes come with a background story, because cooking IS personal and at least, since I'm not a recipe blog, what investment do you really have in this if I'm not saying something about it? But I'll put the extraneous details after the recipe. This is far from a formal recipe and just a musing of what I did. I mostly did it to taste but these are some approximate measurements:

6-8 eggs 4 cups of water 4 bags black tea 3 tablespoons dark soy sauce 2 tablespoons regular soy sauce 1 tablespoon sugar 4 teaspoons salt 2 teaspoons Shaoxing wine 1 teaspoon five spice powder

Important to note: Make as many eggs as you want as long as it'll all fit in the marinade you make - it's gotta cover all of the eggs, no peekin' out. If you need less marinade, i.e. you're putting it in a tight ziplock bag, feel free to halve or otherwise divide the ingredients to fit.

*Notes*

This is what I mean by marbling! OBVIOUSLY these pictures aren't great (I have never claimed to be a photographer) but this is just to show what the end result should look like. Sometimes the marbling doesn't really come through but it still tastes nice!

I grew up with tea eggs always at the grocery store and able to grab 'em any time I wanted. They were usually always warmed in a crock pot as you grabbed them with tongs, but since I'm not running a crock pot for days as I finish eating them all I have them cold and they're still glorious. You can honestly marinade them 8-24 hours or so, I just like marinading for longer so the color really comes through and for more of the taste to soak in. Marinade them too long and I think they'll get too salty. It's a great subtle flavor, and you can reuse the marinade for another batch if you're making more in a short amount of time (refresh ingredients a lil that may have evaporated) or I know you can theoretically cook meat and vegetables in that marinade so you'll have something tasty from it.

I'm (AS USUAL, everyone moans) having culture feels and been wanting to cook more as a result. Most of it has manifested in veggie soup or varying noodle dishes, but tea eggs are near and dear to my heart and honestly I am so glad they were easier to make than I thought. I have a lot of weird vibes and euughh, trauma 🙄 over being in the kitchen just due to weird family stuff I grew up with so cooking is a real chore for me. Ultimately this uses two small pots (saucepans? pots? whatever they're called) and a tablespoon so the dishes to clean afterwards is minimal.

I really like the tea eggs and I really like that I can make them now, and I wanted to share that. I will probably fixate on them for a hot second! They've got such a nice flavor and my whole apartment smells good after. Let me know if you make any! Thanks for reading.

Update - I super soft boiled the eggs earlier, like very soft boiled and then cooked it on low-medium for an hour, and it's the perfect amount of hard-boiled. Hell yeah!

who here thinks that they would have always transitioned no matter what gender they had been assigned at birth? like gender contrarianism

In mine and many other east Asian cultures, the dragon traditionally symbolises things like power, wealth and strength (imperial symbol and all)

I think we often forget that in the story of the Great Race, the dragon came in fifth because it'd stopped to give people rain. Then it'd stopped again to push a rabbit adrift on a log across the wide river so it reached the shore safely (that's why the Rabbit year comes before the Dragon).

Dragons aren't meant to just be powerful - they are meant to do good with such power, and to help those in need.

So in this lunar new year, I hope you gain more power, so that you might be able to help others. I pray you have abundant resources so you may give to yourself and those around you. I wish you courage, endurance, kindness and generosity, for yourself and your people.

I hope you, and I, will be rain givers, life preservers, joy bringers.

I hope we will be dragons.

On Politeness vs Helpfulness

Two stories for you.

January 2018, my little town in rural Wisconsin was experiencing a cold snap. It was not record levels, but it was still very much cold enough to kill if you were unprepared. I was working ten to twelve hour shifts in a factory four towns away for 11 dollars an hour. When I woke at five AM for my shift, I discovered that my car wouldn’t start. The battery was flat dead - a common occurrence when temperatures dropped so suddenly. I couldn’t afford to miss a shift - on top of likely being fired for even a single sick day, I genuinely wouldn’t be able to afford rent.

I called my brother who lived two towns away, mostly to seek advice. He started swearing at me, hung up the phone, and was on his way. An hour of yelling and swearing and insults later, my car was running, and I was on my way to work. It was unpleasant - my brother and I didn’t have the best relationship - but he still *risked his life* in order to make sure I could make rent.

October 2022. I was in Oakland, California for Second Sky, a music festival. A few weeks earlier I had injured my knee at work. I was mostly healed, but I had brought my crutch to the show out of an abundance of caution. I had just gotten into the festival with @swarmingbats and I was given a task - get some drinks while she got into the merch line.

Second Sky was an experience, with landmarks made by the prop masters that created the Hogwarts theme park. There were giant trees, ancient temples, little secrets to discover and explore while getting blasted by EDM - it was a magical place to be. However - it did not make it obvious where you could go to get food or drinks. So I did what any reasonable person would do - I scoped out a couple who didn’t look too busy who also had drinks in their hands and asked for directions.

The couple managed to be very polite while *also* managing to impart zero information to me. I remember the woman looking at me like I was stupid for not immediately knowing where to get drinks. Fair enough - they owe me nothing, and they were *polite* while treating me like an idiot.

I managed to find the beer tent - they were literally right behind the couple. I got my wife the collectible cups they were selling, mission accomplished.

While I was giving my wife her drink, my crutch placed precariously under my arm, the *very same couple* walks *between* me and @swarmingbats and somehow managed to *kick* my crutch to the ground. It was obviously an accident. One of the couple turned around, horrified at what she’d done.

“Oh, I didn’t realize you were a *cripple*”

Platitudes were exchanged, an easing of tension - but it was on my wife to actually pick my crutch from the ground.

I am a big fan of politeness, but if it gives someone the excuse to avoid being *helpful* in any way, I know which of these two interactions I’d choose, every day.

I dreamed I was mind-controlled in some messed up tea party scenario, being fed honey from a spoon, little fleeting thoughts of “what’s going on” “I shouldn’t be here” being overtaken with blank acceptance. When she lifts the lid she says “don’t look in the pot dear, anything could be in there…” and of course I don’t look. Now I’m thinking, man, that’s a little heavy-handed with the implied horror elements covered up with (literal) sweetness. But, uhhh, it was a good dream.