#they don't have the resources my parents poured into me

[throwaway-yandere]

I want to be honest (no this has nothing to do with fics lmao youll get it as scheduled)

This post is an explanation as to why I consider myself as "retired". I know I've said it's because of studies, but that'll be 1/3 of the truth. I want to talk about the true three real reasons why, and I'll do my best to be straight to the point. This isn't a cry for help (I swear to the heavens it is NOT). This is just to clear out assumptions.

Here's the other two reasons:

Grief & Mental Health

Writing itself & interactions

Grief & Mental Health:

I'll pour my heart out, so I'm sorry if it's long. As I said, I'll be straight to the point, so: my grandfather around the first week of June. I remember how I received the news so vividly. I was listening to Two Birds while washing the dishes at 12 AM. My mom went down the stairs with my father, crying as they tell me the news that he's gone. We drove half an hour to the hospital where I get to pat his head one last time. I remember mindlessly wandering the hospital halls— I remember mindlessly using the free alcohol attached to a wall. I remember breaking down as I realized I just cleansed away the hand that last had contact with him. I remember every detail, from the ride home where I messaged my good college friend to tell her that she needs to be a good nurse because the public healthcare system in the country is awful. I remember silently hating everyone and everything. I remember thinking about how cruel it was that life took away the one relative who genuinely cared about me and I was sure was related to me by blood. I remember thinking how much I'm distant to everyone else on my mother's side except him. I remember feeling so empty. I remember not sleeping for two days straight.

But let's back track for a bit. Before his death, I did have one final conversation with him. He was sedated and tubed miserably. Deep down, I knew his time was coming. So, I just made jokes about how grandma was growing senile and mistook me for a nurse for ten whole minutes. Then, I thanked him for everything he's done, and told him I'll become an engineer. Just like him.

And now here I am, dorming 3 hours away from home. I dormed because I had nearly decided my life meant nothing after lack of sleep through daily commutes and workloads. But I am lonely and unwell. I don't know what I want in life. I don't know what I actually want to be, but I already shifted courses as a chemical engineering student. I was so stressed to the point I've accidentally cried to my chem professor in a phone call. I don't know what I'm doing with my scholarship and education if it's for no one. And I am scared that I'm draining my parents' already limited resource for nothing. That I'm wasting the scholarship my country had given me nothing. That I am wasting my people's taxes for nothing.

It was only when another friend told me that I seem to live my life based on other's decisions and opinions did I notice just why I'm incredibly miserable.

I know I don't have dreams for myself. And even if I did, how the hell will writing and drawing feed me in the future when the industry in this 3rd world country is absolute garbage?

I guess Asians really do the things they hate so they can get what they love. Okay, I'll stop making jokes.

I miss my long-time friends, Phitre and Frost. I also miss my old blockmates when I was a BSEd-Math student. I am too used to eating alone, studying alone, walking alone. I am too used to being an outsider. But I'm not used to silence. I'm not too used to hearing actual silence.

All I have is Discord and Messenger.

And even then, it's quiet.

Writing itself & Interactions

I love writing and drawing. I just hate posting it at this point, which is why I made another account that's purely interaction-based.

I love writing a lot— my happiness is turning shtposts into something terrifying. I don't like writing romances, I like the thrill instead. I like laughing like I'm Hubert from FE:TH after thinking of an evil plot twist.

But I hate posting it. Because I know, no matter how much effort I put it, it's not enough. No matter how long it is— no matter if you learned basic coding for it— drew art— made interactive google forms— it's just not enough. I literally made two long separate fics with different endings depending on your choices and it just performs less on something I didn't actually put anything on.

Lord.

Lord I hate Creative Differences for that. I finally understood why bands hate their hit songs because of that lol.

Don't comment something like "oh, you content creators are just whining—" I am whining. Why? Because we don't treat artists and writers like they're human enough. Like we're just uploading content and that we don't want to hear what the others have to say. I remember there was one ask telling me how they're gonna miss traumatizing their friend— and I'm just sitting there wondering "why didn't YOU tell me their reactions? Why are you making me feel like I'm talking to a brick wall for 2k words and more?" It's not their fault. I am not mad at this anon. They've done nothing wrong, but lord do I hate feeling like this.

I could follow "part 2???" requests, finish all my drafts for the events. But I know. I know the chances of the person who requested them won't actually answer after all the effort.

[insert Berkut's "all that effort, what is it all for?!" voice line from FE:Echoes here to lighten the mood]

But that aside.

It's just silence. Just notes, when I feel like comments are what matters more. I'm used to being alone, but I really hate silence. I hate it so much. That's why I'm always so grateful to the people who do interact often, and don't say that's not true because I can prove it. You can see me make content just for them, dedicate fics, art, everything. I love them, I love the "noise".

I know we all have lives, I know we're all busy, I know. I respect your time, I respect you.

And I think it's just time I respect myself as well.

So that's why I'm retired. No pressure on events (idol and letters), no pressure on anything. I'm actually taking my time in End Of Year Blues. It's nice.

Edit: I forgot to mention

My father hates that I write. He constantly tells me to stop it, to prioritize my academics, when writing is my only way of coping.

So.

Haha, what the hell do I even do anymore, right?

#tw: suicidal thoughts #tw: grieving #astrilde-talks #tw: mental health

[bakersimmer]

Taking a break from posting.

I haven't been able to live at home for almost 2 months now. We started to freshen up our apartment, but this small renovation revealed several major issues that needed to be fixed immediately. We poured all our savings into this, and there are still many things that need to be done, but we don't have the money.

During the renovation, we were living with my mother-in-law who has a big empty house. She was the one to invite us there. 2 days ago, she decided to show her uglier side. The way she treated me, and my 5 month old (who is her biological grandchild) resulted in us deciding to leave. Due to lack of resources, I had no choice but to rent a storage unit and move in with my parents, who live in a 3-room apartment.

For obvious reasons, playing is my last priority, although I was looking forward to the new EP. If anyone knows where to find a ready-to-harvest money tree, please let me know 🤪

#word vomit #toxic family

[merluvlee-sims2]

Pleasantview - Burb: Prologue #5

Jennifer got home, all giddy from her kiss with Melissa, and was surprised to find John awake and waiting for her.

"Jen, can we please talk now? We were supposed to talk earlier and you kinda bailed on me."

Jennifer sighed. She supposed that she really was the asshole in this situation. She gingerly sat down next to him.

"I'm sorry, John. I'm just figuring some stuff out—"

"—what do you mean, "figuring stuff out"? What happened to all those plans we made together? I'm not asking for much, Jen—"

Jennifer interrupted him, cold and distant: "—you're right. You're not asking for much. Just to use my body so you can satisfy some twisted primal urge of yours to breed—"

"—that's not fair! You're twisting my words! I just want to have a big, happy family, okay? And I'm not saying you need to give birth again! I'd love to adopt kids! Hell, I'd even be happy to take in Lilith and Angela since your brother and Mary-Sue won the prize for World's Shittiest Parents—"

"John. Raising kids is hard work. I just would rather focus my energy on my career right now and pour all of our resources into giving Lucy the best childhood she can possibly have—"

"—well, I think that the best childhood possible includes having siblings..." John took several deep breaths before continuing.

"Jennifer, I feel like we don't want the same things anymore. And that scares me."

Jennifer sighed.

How can I tell him that I never wanted the same thing that he did? It would break his heart. Why did I ever think I would change my mind?

"I'm sorry, John. Maybe I haven't been fair to you. I want you to have everything you want."

John smiled, "Thanks for apologizing. And I'm sorry too. C'mere."

As her husband wrapped his arm around her, Jennifer felt conflicted.

I do love him...in a way. He's my best friend. I care about him a lot. I mean, I'm married to him! Maybe we could make things work, for the sake of Lucy. It's not like he is abusive or mean. Don't I want him to be happy? Doesn't he want me to be happy? Isn't that enough?

"John. Let's try for a baby tonight."

John smiled, "Seriously?"

Jennifer nodded.

Just as she was about to get undressed, Jennifer's phone rang. She hoped it was Melissa, and immediately answered it.

But it turned out that it was Dina Caliente, calling her to tell her that she was engaged to Mortimer Goth. She hadn't heard from Dina in ages—they used to be friends in college but had since lost touch.

"Well, maybe we could catch up over lunch sometime. I'm, uh, actually kind of busy right now so I have to let you go. But congratulations!"

Alright, let's do this.

After what felt like the most boring, drawn-out sex of her life, John finally rolled off of her and fell asleep. Jennifer got out of bed and made herself a tomato sandwich while her thoughts ran wild.

That was a huge mistake.

For better or for worse, Melissa had opened her eyes to a brave new world. She could no longer pretend to be John's suburban heterosexual wife. It wasn't fair to him.

Even though her and John cared for each other deeply, they ultimately couldn't make each other happy. And so she would have to let him go.

#ts2 #sims 2 #sims 2 premades #pleasantview #jennifer burb #john burb

[38sr]

Who was your inspiration to getting into industry

Can you explain briefly about how did you study before getting into the animation industry

Oooh, hmmmmm. It's not so much a who but what inspired me to work in animation. This is a bit of a story so I guess sit back, grab some popcorn and enjoy my incoherent thoughts. So for as long as I remember, animation has always been there in my life in the sense that I watched a lot cartoons and animated films. Also, I was always drawing as a kid already (according to my mom since age 2, credible source). But even then I never had any aspirations or an inkling of a thought to pursue animation.

Drawing was just fun, cartoons were just fun, animated films were just fun and was just....an escape from the reality that my parents were divorced and going through custody court meetings over me and my siblings. But even then it wasn't a perfect escape 'cause it was the early 2000s and media was pushing the "perfect nuclear family" concept that just wasn't my reality. So what was the thing that changed my mind? In April 2007, my aunt took me and my siblings to a film festival in NYC where we watched a Japanese animated film called Brave Story. This was at the height of the Pokemon craze and my aunt thought the movie was a Pokemon movie so you could see why she took us there haha. And I'll never forget this moment 'cause this movie quite literally changed my life.

Brave Story was the first ever piece of media I ever watched where the main character's parents are separating and it was shown through the perspective of the child. Thinking about it always makes me a bit emotional because up until that point....it felt like no one understood or saw what me and my siblings were going through. Adults who were around us and knew of our situation had presumptions about us, media that had a character with divorced parents always portrayed them as mean, angry or bullies to the main characters of a perfect nuclear family because those kids' homes were "broken" therefore we were too. Was I angry? Yeah, but it stemmed from confusion and lack of articulation skills to express myself as a 10 year old. I really wanted to escape from the reality because I didn't know how to handle it as a child...nor was there anything I could look at to help guide me.

Until I watched Brave Story and saw the main character go on an adventure that taught him how to cope and navigate his new reality. And it was an animated film! For the first time time I had thought, "I could be the main character too? I can go on adventures and not have to have the perfect family? I don't have to be certain type of person in order for stories to be written about me?" It just BOOM! Blew my mind! And....I can't quite explain the feeling but there was just this thing growing inside me that made realize, "This is what I have to do. I need to do this. I'm going to do this." And from there, the rest is history. Since I was like 10 I just, never looked back and whole heartedly poured myself into doing whatever I could to work in animation.

After that, geez I feel bad about answering this question because I didn't learn how to animate until I was in college. But yeah, I just remember drawing A LOT. I didn't have the resources to study animation so I just drew a lot of comics, watch even more animation (including anime), try to replicate the things I liked, made flip books in my Five Star notebooks, anything I could do that was close enough to animation. It wasn't until high school that I finally got to take an art class that taught me drawing fundamentals (figure drawing, composition, perspective, color theory, etc.) and I was neck deep in textbooks to keep my grades as high as possible for college applications. I knew that my family didn't have the money to send me to the CalArts, SVA, and what not unless I had the grades to get scholarships. And in the end, I never went to any of those schools haha. The school I went to was a private art school and the animation program....let's just say wasn't the best and I ended up doing more on my own than the school did. But that's a story for another day if anyone is interested in knowing my art school experience haha. But yeah, that is 1) a very long explanation on what got me into animation and 2) a brief summary of what I studied before getting into an animation program and learning to animate (primarily drawing fundamentals). I hope that answered your questions!

#ask #ask me questions #animation #animation industry #industryqs

[valmare]

v personal but i'm okay with tumblr being my little diary so

triggers: obesity, my personal journey, spicy opinions, health and wellness

this year i've been on a journey to understanding and listening to my body. at 28 years old, i've spent my life as a 250+ pound, medically morbidly obese American female. you won't ever know the immense willpower it just took to write spent my life instead of the majority of my life or most of my life, because in point of fact, i've always been fat. accepting that and coming to terms with it hurts and is ugly.

a former friend of mine (we don't speak anymore) suggested that i see her naturopathic doctor when we got on the topic of our periods and how ridiculous they are (mine have always been a painful, vomit-inducing, knock-me-down disaster). i decided to and booked an appointment.

my meeting with her changed everything i've ever known about food, the female body, nutrition, and exercise.

never having been educated on nutrition, i grew up paycheck-to-paycheck. we never really got a shot at eating well. whatever we could afford we ate, and processed foods were at the top of the list. that said, my palette for whatever was cheap, good for you, and good to eat was developed. sugar addiction started early. plus both my parents are not nutritionally educated or aware, and exercise was never enforced, because neither if my parents know anything about exercise.

additionally, most of my foundational years i was teased for my size, told i would be ugly and fat forever, that nobody would want me, and nobody wants to look at me. so i developed body dysmorphia, hatred, and anxiety and hopelessness around the age of 8. by the time i was 10, all the cousins and friends who i thought actually loved me were telling me to get into a gym, but also were laughing at me any time i tried to exercise. so gym anxiety and exercise anxiety started early.

~anyway~

my doctor changed my entire lens about food and actually how to eat, and gave me some resources to begin hormone balancing, skin, and anti-inflam supplements (which those have changed my life!). she also encouraged me to begin exploring bodyweight exercises and slowly changing up my diet; exploring foods I like and are easy substitutes. she is the most supportive, understanding, educational doctor i've ever had.

but listening to my body. that's been incredibly hard and a developmental journey. you don't really realize, as an obese person in our society, how much noise there is surrounding bodies and your personal lens. i didn't realize how negative it was outside of my own head, and how the worldview of obesity really bludgeons obese people into a corner of hopelessness, no options, and defeat even before we really begin our journey. and, it affects how we listen to our bodies. how we navigate them, understood food, perceive exercise, and develop relationship with nutrition and wellness.

i've been talking to two mutuals of mine that are exercise-regulars, non-obese women who i've felt safe and confident with in sharing some of my insecurities and my journey. they have been incredibly supportive and informative, encouraging in ways that nobody in my life has ever poured into me before. they have been gamechangers in helping me understand this journey, how to listen to what my body says---how to know food. how to kick my fear of exercise and that feeling of defeat when it actually kicks my butt.

i've been moving and exploring excercise now for about three months; healing my hormones and internal body with supplements and better food choices since the beginning of the year. and I am just now beginning to see changes in my body. some of them are positive. others are not, but, my doctor reassures me they are plateau's of my body changing and healing itself (primarily skin inflammation and acne resurgences, hair thinning). the scale itself has not changed, but, the hang of clothes is---slowly. i can stand at my work desk all day without fatigue.

i noticed it in my back first. i wore a dress to the office and wrote to one of my mutuals, "this dress hangs straight from my shoulders to my ass without clinging or bunching, and that's never happened!" my bras fit a little differently, and so do my jeans---maybe not around my waistline yet, but definitely in my legs. i'm back into fitting comfortably in XL t-shirts. i am craving sugar less and less, though it's not entirely off my palette radar. and while my skin doesn't look great right now, my hair is still a mess and I'm still hungrier than i want to be most days, i'm getting there. i'm thinking less and less about food and what i'm missing. i'm spending less time dodging mirrors and being embarrassed. i carry my head chin-level with the floor instead of keeping my eyes diverted, or looking away.

the point of this ramble?

it takes time. not just for your body, but for your brain.

we talk a lot about the body side of wellness and obesity, and how you just have to push through. but rarely does anyone ever discuss how you have to re-wire your brain. your worldview has to change. you relationships with things life has told you forever have to evolve, and habits have to break. and then you have the physiological side of dealing with cravings, addictions, taste palettes. it is incredibly, unmissably hard. it isn't just a matter of time management, or "being lazy" or even just fear and being sick and tired of feeling the way you feel. it is a world-changing battle. it's ugly. and as much as people tell us they'll be there for us and this is what society wants from the obese, very few people are accepting and stand beside you in this.

obesity abuse, weaponizing bodies is a thing. i've experienced it first hand. and you can say all you want that it's excuses, that it isn't a thing, that it's just laziness, let me tell you to kindly jump off a bridge.

we need to be there for the obese. there are stages of grief, challenge, hopelessness. this is a fight to change our lives. it isn't a simple fix. most of us have been obese for years, and undoing all those years of abuse is awful. ugly. unattractive. it is the farthest thing from fun. exercising everyday has yet to become something i look forward to, i am still dragging myself out the door and doing the mental gymnastics of not caring who sees me red-faced and wheezing and sweating.

this is the reminder to obese people that you can. it is a mind game as much as it is a body game. you can do this. it's hard, but i see you. i see you and i understand. and it's okay to be scared. it's okay to be frustrated. it's okay not to think you can't do it and needing someone to tell you that you can. you can. forever i thought i was the exception, that it could never happen to me, but i can. if i can, i know for a fact you can.

we need to change the game and actually start seeing obese people instead of talking at them. talk to them. help the expectations you're setting become realities. it isn't just going to the gym for us and starting. it's undoing a lifestyle and creating a new worldview. many of us are uneducated and scared and overwhelmed.

my friend told me something really profound the other day, "you're striving and actually trying to make a change. that's a hell of a lot more than a large percentage of the population."

i think about that all the time. i'm doing my part and trying, more than a lot of people. and while that's great for me, and i'm still doing a majority of it alone, it breaks my heart for others who haven't started this journey yet.

help break barriers, not build them. please.

see us. hear us. help us.

it starts with ya'll as much as obese people. obesity isn't beautiful, but it is life consuming. i know i'm not beautiful. but i'll never be beautiful on my own, because *i* don't think that i am. but if you're saying exercise and nutritional balance makes me beautiful, if these are realities, i need help getting there. i need help seeing that the pursuit of these things are beautiful, even if i'm not at the end result yet.

help me. help us. it should be a community, not isolation. if we're as concerned for the population as we say we are, words without action are dead.

#obesity #body positivity #exercise #mental health #health and wellness #public service broadcasting #ramblings #idk man #my truth #this is me #encouragement #rant #.txtpost #.txt #thicc af #thicc girls

[oldestvampire]

Memories

I pour tea for our guest, a general from the West, and when we are alone he grabs me, bites my neck, and leaves me crumpled on the chair to die while he calls for guards to find my assailant. | During my travels I encounter Sun Yating once more, he proposes a duel in exchange for my forgiveness but I give him the candy in my bag in exchange instead; laughing, he hands me a letter that he says will get me out of any unpleasant situations.

I spend my evenings and mornings playing my guqin, plucking my strings in time to the bubble of the creek near my abode, soothing my hunger with the sound of the strings. | A young woman greets me one morning as I play, she claims she is thirsty and when I see the grey pallor of her skin - so similar to mine - I offer her the swaddled infant on my table and she calls me a monster. | The infant, who I have named Bo, I have kept alive and hidden from the village - perhaps once out of bitterness, but now out of love; they have become precious to me indeed.

Cui Jiao comes to me years later, desperate and no longer the delicate woman she once was, thin with ragged clothes and matted hair, thirsty once more, but this time for blood instead of tea; I take her inside when she falls at my feet and put away the few belongings she has - including a small wooden jewellery box I don't dare open. | Cui Jiao and I live as sisters, and I adopt the name Cui Xiuying to keep up this ruse. | Raids and skirmishes sweep through the land, destroying all they touch, and so we retreat further into the wilderness of the mountains.

A weaver and her husband come to take Bo from me, and even as he claws and cries for me to do something, I don't.

I was born in a time of peace and prosperity along the riverbank, but the mountain town's market is full of merchants whispering about corruption and skirmishes between the kingdoms; even after 200 years of life this worries me, for I have no knowledge of war. | The sun comes out while I am still looking for my next meal, I duck in a tea shop and am served by a child who recounts to me tales of their misadventures in return for sweets and tales of mine; though I go home with my belly empty, my heart is full. | Mo Hua does not know me for what I am and protests when the villagers whisper about my aversion to sunlight and their missing travellers; his avid defence turns their eyes to him - I cry for the first time in a long time when I find him on the side of the road.

Diary

I am Yin YiJun, the second daughter of my parents, and I am enjoying peaceful days before my father finds me a husband. | A man who came seeking my hand is met with my fangs, and though my skirts enshroud his figure a servant sees him and calls for the soldiers; Zhao Fen helps me flee. | As years pass my body grows stronger, muscles that were once built for housework and mundane chores suddenly remembering the movement of the Jian, though I have never owned one.

Characters

Sun Yating - The immortal vampire who turned me. He lives by day as an accomplished general from the West.

Qin Da - The immortal Provincial Governor, he stole my pearwood scissors and has lived numerous lives under numerous names.

Cui Jiao - A righteous immortal woman who refused my help.

Bo - The mortal child I have hidden away.

Weaver - The woman I resent for stealing Bo away.

The Weaver's Husband - A strong yet weak-willed man.

Mo Hua - A child I befriended while seeking refuge from the sun.

Duan Bai - The mortal woman who taught me midwifery.

Yin He - My father, the magistrate of a small county. He is kind but gullible, and his wards suffer for it.

Wu Yawen - My father's second wife. Sweet but docile.

Zhao Fen - A childhood friend and neighbour.

Yin YiJun

Skills

Deception, Part of the Rumour Mill, Immortal's Patience, An Ear for Music, Knowledge of Imperial Affairs, Privy to Secret Records, Midwifery, The Art of the Sword,

Resources

Mysterious Jewellery Box, Hut on the Mountainside (Stationary), Letter from the General, Diary - Worn Bamboo Scrolls, Decorated Guqin, Hut on the Mountainside (Stationary), Wrapped candy, Enchanted Pearwood Scissors

Marks

A large chunk of my neck is missing and will not heal; I must wear high collars and bandages to hide the bleeding.

My skin is frighteningly pale, and grey like ash; white powder and red makeup hide this on my face, but I make sure to keep my hands tucked into my sleeves in public.

#thousand year old vampire #ttrpg #ttrpg character #tw death #tw infant death #writing

[thegodthief]

I am just so fucking angry. From the moment of my conception I have been wandering in exile trying to find a home for my soul and every fucking time I think I have found a safe place where I can be accepted the shibboleth jumps up again and I am deemed

unworthy

unclean

unwanted

because I didn't grow up in the same community/culture/family unit as those judging me.

Because I had to root around for crumbs under the table and I managed to somehow survive that.

Because I had to steal bits of my heritages back from those who stole it from my forefathers but my understanding is shattered like the remnants behind museum glass.

Because I had to find out the hard way that the food on the table was tainted but that I survived the crumbs is a bigger sin than the one poisoning the intended guests.

I am just so viciously angry that for all I have come through, I'm still not black enough to learn what it means to be black in American from black people because I sure as hell know what it means from the White Fucking Gaze™. And I'm not borinqueña enough because of my parents' choices but suddenly everyone at work wants me to know they have my pity when their friends are around to witness.

"If you were meant to learn this, your ancestors would have made sure you were born and raised here." BITCH WHY ARE YOU JUSTIFYING THE SLAVE TRADE LIKE YOUR OVERSEEING ASS ISN'T GETTING SOMETHING FROM IT NOW!

How can you fucking say that and ignore all of fucking history.

MY ANCESTORS WANTED ME TO SURVIVE AND SOMETIMES I THINK THAT'S THE ONLY REASON I'M STILL HERE.

If your knowledge is so precious that the mere mention of it to anyone else diminishes it, then may it shatter your jaw and choke you so you will never be at risk again.

I have given so much of myself trying to prove something that I realize was never an option for me to take on in the first place that I am exhausted. You want to to watch the flesh jiggle for your amusement but you won't feed the bones.

You nail a sign to the door that announces "Pure Rites for Pure Blood" and won't give your whole-blood siblings a glance because they don't match you in skin. You go out of your way to make sure las sangre sucias like me are very well educated that the only part of us you will welcome is our money and resources so you will perform rites on our behalf but otherwise we need to go away because our presence is dirty and an affront to your aesthetic.

The roots of our trees drink from the same source. Take care where you are pouring that poison. I have survived your masters. I will survive you.

[screechingkingdomhottub]

RATING DIFFERENT MENTAL HEALTH COUNSELLING SERVICES (UK)

Soo bit about me is im bisexual, trans, autistic, depressed and have had some Bad Coping Mechanisms so trigger warnings for sh, suicidal thoughts, alcoholism and addictions, anything else lemme know and i'll edit this. When I was a young boy, I realised bad things in my brain and after struggling finally got encouraged to reach out for help, here's how i'd rate my experiences. First though, regardless of any of these ratings you should seek help, because even if the help sucks which it might, you get a little boost in your brain that you're trying and it could be the difference between 1 day but that 1 day is special. I believe in you. As someone who has been struggling for 10 years now, it does get better but your struggle doesnt magically stop. So this is in no way me saying "all help sucks dont bother" but the exact opposite like always choose to seek for help.

First we have Mr Big Boi Jo AKA the samaritans, I have reached out to them so many times since I was like 13. The email feature is amazing like being able to sorta control when you are willing to not only send the message but also check the response is wonderful. I'd pour my heart and soul out and then be able to step away and recover from that vulnerability, be excited for when I'd get an email back, if I didn't feel like responding in that moment then I would not have to. But they have a tendency to sign post you quite easily like i've been sent to chris at lgbt , childline, some autism stuff that rubbed me the wrong way. It can feel kinda like you're getting dismissed and told to bugger off. "But that's not what they're doing!" oh right i forgot people in mental health crises should think more clearly, how dare i think they may have thinking issues and be sensitive in those times, ridiculous of me /s so I'm gonna rate them 6.5/10. This also probably depends on who you get. I'm gonna have to DQ [email protected] because I genuinely forgot I had any interaction with them, they seem alright and I suppose if you're struggling with gender and sexuality they're worth a shot? I'm rather comfortable in my identity now so I don't want to take that resource away from people for any experiment like this. CHILDLINE - Not just that one phone number you call if your parents are abusive. Genuinely childline is so misrepresented due to what we classify as abuse like if you are under 18, you can go on childline and play games, have a live chat feature with counsellors, ask on message boards, view message boards or send as an email instead of the chat. You can choose! I think it would be amazing even for adults but once again, no stealing resources. "But I have DID and it's complicated cause my little needs help-" dude I'm not qualified for that, you probably know more than I do like don't put this on me. I cannot remember one negative experience with them. I just remember being scared and messaging people, OH AND THE NOTES YOU CAN ASK THEM TO READ NOTES SO THEY'RE CAUGHT UP ON STUFF EVEN IN LIVE CHAT. 9.5/10 would be a 10 if I was still a child but I'm unfortunately 23 so im bitter. It may have changed but now but I strongly encourage people to try it because I didn't want to because I thought it was only for kids being physically abused, it's also for like teenagers who are self harming. SHOUT - Oh Shout, you are the most 50/50 out of these. I genuinely use SHOUT more than samaritans now but it can go really bad. I message and am like "hello i wanna drink myself to death" but if i do that on like friday nights or something, the wait times are massively long and I've found some other way to soothe myself but when they are there they do talk very gently, they offer valid resources about things like as pdfs this time not just links to websites of people that can help. It's similar to counselling in person imo so it's about vibes sometimes. 8/10 or wait/10 damn those wait times KOKO - I'm glad it exists but haven't found much help from it personally. I do like that it sorta puts less stress on people that want to help social media accounts in crisis like that's a very important thing we didn't have when I first had the internet and it caused a lot of damage but in terms of the rating of how it helped 4/10.

GP - OMG GPs right? Anyone in the UK that's been to a GP for depression will immediately be thinking "oh right a WALK ADN SOME TEA RIGHT??" because that's always your first offer. Always. I should also mention I never went to CAMHs because of how my GP saw me, I went to a different centre for at risk youths in a different town in the most wonderful and bizarre therapy I've ever had but that place has shut down and there's absolutely no way other people have had that experience because whenever I say this stuff to people they may as be looking at me like I'm talking about narnia. GPs don't really seem to take you seriously until you're 18. But people don't seem to be really listening, your antidepressants aren't gonna stop your depression. They're going to fight it a little bit but you gotta do other stuff to get the endorphins and that's where the walks and exercise come in. People will bitch about theirs not working and they don't listen to what the GP says like "they keep upping my dose cause it isnt working!" then you find out that person has been drinking every other day which cancels those meds out. So with all that said, GPs are getting a 5/10. Some of mine were really helpful, some sucked, age is a big factor.

I hope you are able to use this info or even just now be more aware of all the help you can get in the new year. It's time to get happy again <3

#mental health

[charmsonlinechatter]

im at my limit

no actually i am.

I'm at a breaking point. The weight of disappointment and frustration is suffocating, and it's starting to consume me. It's hard to put into words the pain that rips through my being, fueled by the realization that my parents actively and will still refuse to support me financially, despite my hard-earned achievements, despite how hard I try, no matter how heavy things are for me. The wounds are fresh, and I need to pour out the raw emotions that surge within me because if I dont I WILL just fucking kms

I did everything in my power to chase my dreams. You know how I was writing about how I owe it to myself to try and to get there. Countless sleepless nights, sacrificing social outings, and pouring my heart into my studies, my preparations for interviews—all of it was for a purpose. If I can't get into med school, then there must be something more out there right? I received an admission to both Yale and Oxford, two institutions that made me realize that I have hope for greatness and that there are endless possibilities. I thought my parents would share in my joy, that they would be proud and stand by my side. But their response was cold indifference, a shrug of their shoulders as if my dreams meant nothing, a shrug of disapproval.

It cuts so deeply because I know they are more than capable of providing the support I need. It's not a matter of financial incapability; it's a blatant choice to turn their backs on me. It's an active choice. A decision. I cant even explain the pain I feel when I see them lavishing resources on frivolous endeavors while disregarding their obligation to at least fund all my aspirations. It’s a punch in the gut, it's like a reminder that my dreams are inconsequential, nothing, and shouldn't be pursued if it's not directly beneficial to them.

How can they not see the dreams burning within me? How can they dismiss my potential and the sacrifices I've made? It feels like a betrayal, a rejection of my very being. and when I poured my heart out, hoping for a even just a drop of understanding, for them to recognize the magnitude of my dreams, how much I want to pursue it, how much I am passionate about it, all I received was indifference. No actually, scratch that. Indifference with empty promises of funding me next time for other stuff - which proves my point, they can fund me, they are more than capable of doing so. They will do everything but be a parent. Fund and give everything but the things I need.

I am so frustrated, so so so infuriated with the blatant ignorance and arrogance,,,,,,, I'm overwhelmed by a sense of isolation if that even makes sense. I fucking hate seeing others being supported by their parents, celebrating their achievements together, while I stand alone, abandoned by the ones who should be my greatest champions. Lost because how come my parents dont even recognize how I never gave them a hard time even as a child. Lost because how come my parents don't seem to understand how I am actually smart. It hurts beyond measure, kinda like a pang in my throat- i bet if it was my kuya they wouldve been shouting. I bet we would be celebrating. I never even got the celebration I deserved. Sobrang foolish, sobrang lonely, imagine having to celebrate your own Yale admission by eating tuna pie because all you have is yourself.

I wish I could find peace in my determination. I wish I could just refuse to let their unwillingness define me or derail me, pero I can't help it. Especially when they've been this way since I can remember. I wish i can turnl this frustration into fuel, propelling myself forward, relying on my own strength and the support of those who understand my worth pero tangina hindi. Kasi this is more than just them financing me. What kind of child, who's born into a good, more than comfortable family, has to negotiate for a loan just to get an ounce of money to fund for her tuition? I am your child. I am your obligation. I am so tired. I wish I didn't have to seek out scholarships, work tirelessly to fund my needs, and prove to myself and to them that I am capable and that I can make it just to prove to them that I am worth investing in.

Are my dreams invalid? is my worth measurable? and is my resilience actually unmatched - or do I just have no choice but to draw strength because refusing means quitting on myself.

I wish I can draw strength from someone, even an ounce of support, an ounce of 'im proud of you,' an ounce of credit, a little validation, a little 'look how far youve come," I really wish I make it, I wish zi can forge a future where my dreams are not shackled by financial circumstances and where my potential is celebrated, cherished, and nurtured.

I hope to lige in a world where dreams are embraced and the support we need is never withheld out of indifference. I wish to be in a better family where I am celebrated. Supported. Pag ako nagkaroon ng anak, hinding hindi niya to mararanasan. Magkakaroon siyang magulang na palagi syang paniniwalaan, hinding hindi ko isusumbat kahit piso.

[squirrelsinthebelfry]

Bobbin and Squirrel - Making our life fit us by rejecting the dominant culture rather than continuing the fruitless attempt to make ourselves fit into a box that was never meant for us.

***

So, I've always been a pathological rule follower. I never put a lot of thought into it, to be honest. It never had much to do with wanting to be a moral or just person, but rather it just helped me take some of the guesswork out of figuring out how to fit in amongst the humans. I had a strong belief in "The System", and thought that my seeming inability to really find my feet as a grown-up was a serious character flaw on my part. I've tried so hard to be a good and conscientious worker and citizen, and always did very well at work because of my strict adherence to rules and processes. My companies always quickly decided, incorrectly, that my positive qualities would make me a good manager, and that's where everything always goes tits-up. I am good at working, but I'm not a leader. I know this, but because I was always so keen on being an adult "correctly", I believed that it was incorrect to ever turn down an opportunity... Then I burn-out from the stress and end up burning my life down in the process.

The last time I burned my life down, it was epic. It started in early 2014 - I was a department manager in a large warehouse for a major multinational telecom company, and not only being eaten alive by the stress of that job, but also simultaneously going through something else traumatic that I'll probably talk about later - and by mid-2015 I was fresh off a suicide attempt and yet another majorly traumatic event, homeless, and sleeping on my sister's couch.

Canada's "Social Safety Net" that I had previously had so much faith in, simply told me to go fuck myself and kicked me into the gutter. Apparently it's more cost effective to let me fall homeless without any resources for dealing with my trauma and burn-out, than to help me recover and get me back into the workforce? Not very smart, Canada. My fear of becoming homeless kept me slaving away as a Conscientious Employee, pouring profits into the hands of lazy, useless overlords who don't actually do anything other than own capital, in exchange for a tiny pittance that was just enough to afford to be able to keep working and nothing else. Now, I've been without full-time employment or housing for so long, and spent the last two-plus years living in my car with my mister, that I've learned not only to no longer be afraid of homelessness, but that homelessness is closer to freedom than being tied to rent or mortgage payments ever could be. I have learned to despise government, and that grassroots organization is going to be key in overthrowing the dominant culture of this shit-eating rock.

I hope I live long enough to see that, but in the meantime we're focusing on getting the clunky old car ready to sell and looking at listings for vans in our low price range.

We're currently staying at my sister's house which I call either The Manor or Demon Manor. This is a temporary stopover that we are now having some difficulty leaping from because my elderly parents are living here, too, and they keep trying to convince me not to go back to living in the car. I hate it here, though. My sister used to be such a reasonable person, but she's gotten mean and weirdly conservative in the last few years, and coupled with the passive aggressive way she communicates her displeasure about whatever she's displeased about, her home has become an unbearably toxic environment. Even my poor old parents feel like they've been bullied into a corner and just spend their time hiding their heads.

Anyway. Wish us luck!

#homeless #anti capitalism #burn the system down #eat the rich #vanlife #neurodiverse #neurodiverse artist #autism #asd #adhd #canadian politics #break the chains #smash the system #smash the patriarchy #big brother is watching you #rome will burn again

[k1ng0fn0b0dy]

💜 Trouble's A Coming

Request by @ -KIYOORIN on wattpad: "Purpled x male reader where reader find out quackity blow up purpled’s ufo and decided to comfort him (i have watch the full thing on purpled's lore so yeah sorry:"))"

(700+ words)

(He/him pronouns)

Description: Quackity fucks up and there seems to be a theme with minors following in their gaslighters footsteps.

[Read the rest under the cut]

{《☆》}

"Take the gamble, Purpled," Quackity said, hand outstretched. His lips were spread unnaturally, half of his face twitching, scarred skin pulled at but still barely moving. "Take the gamble and you can change everything ."

"You know where to find me!" Quackity screams when he turns and walks away. Purpled's suit is dripping wet as thunder strikes something close by. "You know where I am Purpled!"

He chewed at his lips, trying to ignore the trembling in his hands. Maybe it was a bad coping method (or whatever Puffy called them) but Purpled's hand ached to burn away the anger and his sword was the easiest way to do that.

And his vision blurred together. Flashes of vague recognizance of his surrounds before they melted away into raw fury. Sounds clattering around his head for a while after they happened. It could've been hours or days before he opened his eyes again and saw.

His hands were bloody, aching and raw. There was gunpowder and silk and rotting blood dripping off his palms, his sword was coated in so much more.

Now, emotions raw after having his obsidian thick anger peeled away, he trembled and hiccups. Purpled didn't feel care much for his legacy, his legacy didn't matter to him, but the ufo... it was his way home. He could make another but it'd take months and without the right resources it'd never make it off planet. He was screwed, stuck on a shitty green and blue planet that rotated a fucking sun.

If he could get angry, he would. Tears welled up behind his eyes and he wanted to slam his fists into the trees.

"Purpled?" Someone called out. He didn't want to look, didn't want them to see the mess he made of himself. Gentle hands touched his shoulder and he jerked away, whirling to face them.

You stood there, lips pressed together into a frown. Eyes wide, you veered a bit closer, close enough for Purpled to hear the way your breathing stopped. "Oh Purpled..."

"Don't talk to me like that," he said, heart pounding in his chest. He slapped your hand away, wiping at his face. "I'm fine."

"You don't look fine," You said, glancing over at his sword, edges dull and coated in blood. You look back up and your face is full of softness and concern. It makes his stomach turn. "You don't have to tell me anything. Just let me heal you up. Please,"

"Okay," he murmured, unable to meet your eyes. He felt... bad about everything right now but you didn't deserve to feel bad too. He sat on the ground legs stretched out in front of him.

You sat by his side, already swirling a healing pot in hand. You reach up and touch a scratch and even your careful hands make Purpled hiss in pain. "You really got fucked up this time, huh?"

It's a subtler question than last time, a small prod to see if he's willing to talk. And it's a mixture of guilt and tears that spill from his mouth when he wordlessly agrees. "Quackity blew up my ufo."

The kindness melts from your expression, lips twisted into a frown. "He did what?" You poured a bit of healing on a rag and started wiping at his face, like a parent would to a child with food on their face. "I swear if I ever see that man,"

Purpled shook his head, a small smile on his face at the idea. You cared a lot for a lot of people and yet he still found it crazy that you cared. "I've got it handled, (Y/N). Don't worry."

"I know you do, you're strong," You sighed. You put the rag down, reaching up to trace now smooth skin, cradling his cheek in your palm. "I'm still here for you. No matter what."

"I know you are," He said right back at you, smiling softly.

He reaches up, fingers lightly hovering over yours before he relaxes back. In a spur of the moment decision, he relaxes enough for his antennaes to pop out of his hair, glowing a dim purple. It's a sign of trust on his home planet but the thought makes his heart burn.

"They're very pretty," You say, moving to throw your legs over his lap. It doesn't even seem to bother your alien friend, who just moves his legs a bit before closing his eyes, head resting back against a tree. You pour more healing potion and wiped away the rest of the blood.

As the sun starts rising, you lay asleep with your legs tangled together.

{《☆》}

[This gave a lot more relationship vibes than intended. Up to interpretation I suppose.]

[Anyways my Technoblade merch arrived in the mail today pogs in chat boysss !!! I might be able to write pt2 to Wildest Wills before finals, who knows!]

[L0v3, k1ng]

Masterlist

Taglist: @creatorofstars

#x reader #x male reader #mcyt x reader #dsmp x reader #mcyt x y/n #mcyt x you #mcyt x male reader #dsmp x male reader #quackity #purpled #purpled x reader #purpled x male reader #platonic purpled x male reader #platonic purpled x reader

[pbjamas]

Please, thinking about how much neglect Hawks went through makes me so sad :( like not only does mans probably not know how to read or write but he was probably so far behind with EVERYTHING.

I am sure 100% his parents didn't teach him anything and the only resource he had of the world outside of his little shack was the TV (which his mum was practically glued to and it clearly didn't work well) so he wasn't going to learn much from that.

Like he probably couldn't even count past like 12, didn't know what most things were, didn't understand phrases (like in mean girls the "omg shut up" "I didn't say anything?" type of deal) and I know this child didn't know how to use chopsticks, like imagine when he gets taken in by the commission and he has to sit there for like an hour every meal cos he can't pick up his food without dropping it :( like I really think being so behind as a child is why he's so fast as an adult, he had to go really fast and cram to get to the normal level of a 7 year old and when he got there he just continued that speed, you know ?

Also, when we see him saving the people in the car crash he's got a little shopping bag, I like to imagine him paying for that if he couldn't read or count like the shopkeeper says its 300 yen and he thinks 1 note = 1 yen and he doesn't know how much 300 yen is but its clearly a Big Number and he definitely only has 4 yen so he starts freaking out like how is he going to get his mother money if things cost this much? But it turns out he actually DOES have enough money and now he's so confused because he now has 0 clue how money works so everytime after that he just prays that he has enough money for what he's picked up.

I also have a head canon that the reason why his boots are Like That is cos the first time he ever wore shoes was when he was on the streets with his mum and after 7 years of bare feet, walking in proper shoes was terrible so he preferred boots with hardly any sole that were so big they could barley fit his feet cos that felt most similar to walking bare foot and although he could walk fine in any shoe as an adult the boots were just never changed.

I also have this sad thought that like what if no one actually knows Hawks' real birthday ? Like I genuinely don't think Tomie was in a state of mind that allowed her to know or remember exact dates, not even the date that her son was born so when the commission asks when he was born she's just like "around Christmas? Maybe after?" So they just give him a birthday that matches that vague description :'(

THIS WAS SO LONG IM SO SORRY I just have many Thoughts about child Hawks :(

This one gets a readmore bc I rambled <3

aaaaaa ;_; that is so sad ;_;

yeah i remember talking with a friend and we about like.....what if baby keigo wrote in a diary! and since this was abt the ghost fic i was writing the ua kids were going to find his old diary and read it and probably cry. But then we realized......he wasn’t allowed to leave the house. Definitely did not go to school. Very much doubt that either tomie or his father taught him to read or write. If he knew any words at all, he would have learned them when his parents left him alone in the house and he could switch the TV to kids shows where they try to be educational.

Agreed that he probably couldn’t count that high either :/ slfkjsdkj what if....he made up words for the higher numbers so he could count higher ;_; AGAIN me thinking of the ghost fic (i poured my heart and soul into it okay!?) I had lil keigo just find a bunch of coins on the ground and hand it to the lady at the store and just hope it was enough bc he couldn’t count high :/

DO NOT give the boots a tragic backstory, I’ll start feeling bad about hating them!!!!

Aaaa that would be really sad if they didn’t even know his birthday ;_; my personal headcanon is that when he was younger his mom was more....there. It’s hard to take care of a baby, you have to be extremely careful because they can get hurt so easily. I like to think that until he could walk well, tomie actually did a pretty good job! she held him and fed him and maybe even sang to him. They were pals, he was her only friend. And then as soon as he could survive without her constant attention.....she just kind of.......withered, without that urgency. so tldr i think she would have remembered his birthday, and maybe even remembers newborn keigo with some fondness. and then let herself slip back into helplessness as soon as she could ;_;

The hpsc planned to immediately start hero training, but instead, they have to teach him how to count, how to read basic characters, how to hold a pencil, how to tie his shoes (UGH you have me considering the tragic boots backstory how dare you.....) .maybe bc he couldn’t tie his shoes he just preferred zipper to save himself the embarrassment (I STILL HATE THE BOOTS, TO BE CLEAR).

#asks