#JESUS. i needed to. let things out. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

commander-gloryforge · 1 month

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hm (kinda a rant/vent/i just wanna get things off my chest and actually TALK about whats been bothering me)

so. theres this person that has kind of been the cause of my recent mental lows/imposter syndrome getting worse/fear of connecting to people and general distance from literally every community i enter. i think ive ranted about them before. theyre a writer and in a community i used to be active in, and in the beginning i got along pretty well with them because we both enjoyed similar themes and metaphors in our writing but they ended up kind of dropping me, coincidentally at the same time they gave my actual writing/current wip a shot, and ever since then theyve been sub posting about me in really weird and elitist ways and it kind of had ruined my spirit, especially considering that i did really look up to them as a writer since theyre very into actual technicalities, writing theory, they speak about writing very academically. their odd vague posting ended up seriously knocking down my confidence and ive been spiraling into this strange mindset ever since that i’m incredibly stupid/can never improve/am not a real or proper writer by virtue of the things i write. they talk highly about writing techniques and concepts every writer needs to know, very subtly punch down at those who dont seem to know, yet dont care to make that knowledge easy to understand or accessible to obtain.

on top of that theyve been getting quite close with another new friend i made recently thats very dear to me and seeing them talk about things i cant seem to keep up with because i am too ‘stupid’ has just made me very anxious and brought up old feelings and fears that ive worked very hard on to let go off. this person is keeping me from interacting with a community i love because i cant seem to get ovr the fact that some people just dont like me, because im getting paranoid, because i think their every word is directed towards me, because theyre popular and well liked and everyone always agrees with them, even when what they say goes against what what i do and like.

it really sucks, its been bothering me so much, especially the fact that i cant just let it go. that i cant just ignore them and move on and do what i like without feeling like its wrong or cringe or weird. everytime i think im ready to go back i suddenly see them talking again with my friends that have offered me so much support whenever ive opened up about my struggles and now they suddenly agree and praise that person for having opinions that directly oppose me and the things they were so keen on supporting me on.

but recently i remembered something they said. they said that they dont want to be self indulgent in their writing, that ‘there’s nothing necessarily wrong with self indulgence but it reflects in the writings quality’, that you can ‘tell’ and they dont like that. when they first posted that i just read it and went. oh :( my writing is self indulgent :( does this reflect in my quality as well? is that why they dropped my writing and me, because i like being loud about self indulgence and cringe? and now i remembered that post, and suddenly it kind of clicked

this person very obviously does not write for the same reason as i do. they very obviously do not feel about writing thhe way i feel about it. they talk about it as though it is a science. like its something that needs to be perfected. now, it’s clear that they do love writing, that they have a passion for it, and their technical knowledge very much reflects on their art- and that impresses people. im not like that. i want to learn writing techniques and i want to improve my craft and i want to be taught, properly so, i obviously want to be a good writer, and im going to be a little self obsessed and say that i am a good writer, or at least not a bad one. but there is a difference in how each of us sees writing.

i want to be self indulgent. i want to write what i love. i fucking love writing and story telling and yes, the fact hat my writing is self indulgent does impact the quality of my work, because it makes it better. i am passionate about my worlds and stories and characters because its exactly what i want it to be and thats why is fucking good. because it makes me want to put effort in and learn how to get better. i dont write for a grade, i dont write to make something perfect and deep and meaningful and serious, i dont write to impress someone, i dont write to squeeze as many smart things and references to classic literature in as i can, i write because i want to fucking write what i like.

so im stupid. so im cringe and bad and insecure and a loser and i dont fit into the good writers club but at least what i write makes me happy. whatever. let some fucking whimsy into your life and stop treating me like im an idiot for having different motivations than you.

#also both of us literally write on wattpad so fucking humble yourself for half a second #dios wisdom #JESUS. i needed to. let things out.#also any tips on How To Ignore A Large Figure In Your Fandom/Community are welcome #how to get over someone that makes you feel sad even though you know you dont have to feel sad #how to stop being paranoid #etc

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d-lissa · 22 days

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I am biting anyone that takes Tashi out of the throuple of doom and say that the guys only actually love each other and not her, or would've been better off without her or whatever.

Just say you can't conceive being in love with more than one person at the same time and move on, because that movie was not for you.

#challengers #the entire movie is about how they all needed each other to play tennis (live life) to their best #and how when missing one of them the entire thing felt off #they all bounced out on each other #please stop trying to put them in little neat monogamous boxes they are all three obsessed with each other and that's what makes it #interesting #LET THEM DATE EACH OTHER IN A THREE WAYS RELATIONSHIP DAMN IT #STOP LESSENING THE BOND THEY BOTH HAVE WITH TASHI AND TASHI'S OWN FEELINGS FOR BOTH OF THEM #BITING YOU BITING YOU BITING YOU #honorary mention to the people that don't take her out but also act as if what she and patrick have is lesser in feelings and intensity as #what patrick hadwith art #again. not the point. why are you prioritizing a relationship over another?? makes me think of those people that can't understand #valuing friendships just as much as romantic relationships. just because it's DIFFERENT doesn't mean it is any LESSER in intensity #it's just something else! all three have very different dynamics with each other that belongs to their own categories and can't be compared #or ranked by how “important” they are #jesus fucking christ #i do NOT have the dental health to bite so many people but by god i won't let that stop me

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leave-a-whisper · 2 years

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If you're defending Kit Connor but then going back and saying "wait, but it's okay to harass this unlabled person because they are CLEARLY straight" please just shut the fuck up. That's the same exact thing people were saying about Kit and the only reason you care about what happened to him now is because he happens to be queer.

#just say you hate cishet people and go #or people you perceive to be that way #also 'queer culture' is not a fucking thing oh my god #you wouldn't tell a straight/unlabled woman with a short haircut and masculine clothes that she's 'using lesbian culture'#so just let men wear dressed jesus fucking christ #you don't need to be openly queer in order to dress gnc #the double standard is ridiculous #no one and I repeat no. one.#owes you a coming out #that is not for you #they don't exist to be your 'rep'#they are P E O P L E #you don't getvto make exceptions for people you dislike #har rambles #heartstopper #kit connor

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flownwrong · 8 days

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no tether (star trek: discovery fic)

Burnham/Rayner, rated M; tags: post s05e05 Mirrors, PWP, praise kink, ~3200 words

A/N: Fair warning: I'm not very familiar with Star Trek universe. I am here mainly through the misfortune of being obsessed with a certain Canadian actor. So if anything doesn't make sense — you know who to blame.

read on ao3

The hour is just about to turn from late into early when Michael finds him tucked into a narrow nook, in a hallway that's mostly deserted during all shifts.

He's sitting on the floor, tucked into the corner, one knee pulled up, a hand with a drink resting on it. Likely too wired to sleep, too suffocated in the solitude of his quarters. That's why she comes here, anyway. It's rare for them to be off the bridge at the same time; figures that they would end up in the same spot.

She approaches slowly, makes sure she doesn't creep up on him. Rayner doesn't move, eyes fixed on the floor, or, no—his profile is illuminated by soft bluish light. A screen, then.

"Hey," she says, leaning against the wall. "You wouldn't take the chair, but you'd steal my hiding spot, huh?"

"Good morning to you too, Captain." Rayner looks up and raises his glass in a toast. "Hiding spot?"

"Well, isn't that what you're here for?"

His eyes crinkle at the corners. "Oh, I'm just catching up on my reading."

"Kellerun classics?"

His mouth lifts at one side, that quiet pleased almost-smile she never quite expects. "Terran, actually."

She leans down to see, raises her eyebrows. "Odyssey. You're full of surprises."

He shuts it down and shrugs. "A good book can save a life." He gives her a flash of a wink.

Michael laughs, caught off guard. He watches her and takes a sip of his drink.

She lowers herself to the floor and scoots until her back meets the opposite wall. The toes of their boots touch in the middle. He doesn't move away.

"So, what's keeping you up?"

"Could ask you the same question." Rayner's eyes are fixed on her face, intense, and for a second, she struggles for words.

"Nothing. Everything. All of this"—she waves her hand, trying to point it all out, the rest of the ship, the mission—"is new. Like nothing I've done before."

He huffs an approximation of a laugh. "You could say that." He doesn't sound nearly as bitter as before, and it's a relief she didn't know she craved.

Still, she's not sure where they stand on this, where the lines are drawn, here, huddled away when they should be sleeping. She clears her throat.

"The things I saw—in the time cycles, and today."

She tries to think of an explanation. Rayner keeps silent, waiting.

"The could have beens. They're hard to shut out."

He shrugs and looks up, out the viewport. "Yeah. Never did well with those."

"Neither have I." It's late, and they're both exhausted, and she's been through way too much weird to bother, so she nudges his boot with her own. "What are you going to do? After, I mean?"

He hums dismissively. "Does it matter?"

Yes, Michael wants to say, of course it does. I want to know what you're waiting for. I want to know if you'll stay. Instead, she says, "Oh? Nowhere you would go? Home?"

Rayner looks uncomfortable, hunches in on himself. When he speaks, his voice is low, like he hopes she won't hear. "Kind of supposed I'd go out before I go home."

She'd be taken aback, except it sounds exactly like him. "Just like that?"

He gives her a challenging look, a rare one that make his face unreadable. "Would you choose any different?"

Would she? He's thought about this, Michael realises, is used to the thought. She forgets, sometimes, how much older he is. Her thoughts are filled with hope, fear, longing—she hasn't chosen how she wants to go, not yet.

Still, there's something here he isn't sharing. She files it away, out of both curiosity and necessity, and reaches out to squeeze his knee. "I don't believe you."

"No?" His sharp features are tense, his cheeks hollowed like he's gritting his teeth.

"No. For one, it would take the heat death of the universe to put you down."

He snorts. "That's flattering."

She ignores him, goes on while she has an in, "But what I mean is that there's too much wonder in you, Rayner. You don't want to go down fighting. You're out here because you want this"—she nods at the stars—"to last." And there's something you left undone, she doesn't add.

He worries at his bottom lip, one of his minute tells. His eyelashes brush his cheeks, a startlingly gentle image.

Michael tilts her head, trying to catch his eye. "Am I wrong?"

Rayner's still for a moment, then shakes his head, lips a thin line, like it costs him. "No. You're not."

"Yeah." She strokes her thumb lightly across his knee. His skin feels feverish through the fabric of his uniform, and she remembers the Kellerun run hotter than humans. He looks down at her hand, swipes his eyes up, over her knees, her chest, shoulders. When he meets her gaze, very slowly, there's a quiet, almost sweet expectation in his look.

She clears her throat. "You haven't finished your drink."

"You want it?" His smile is soft.

She hums an agreement and reaches for his glass, less than a finger of light amber liquid left in it, and he passes it carefully, his fingertips brushing hers. She expects the drink to be acidic, sweet and excessive in all the ways something called citrus mash should be, since she heard the name about seventeen times today, but it's—wow, it's a whiskey. Strong, fragrant, with an aftertaste she can't place, a sharp burn.

She coughs. "Wow. This is good."

"Fair warning, this one kicks." He looks pleased at her surprise, his whole shape looser, waiting.

Michael shakes her head, showing him what feels like the tenth smile of the night. "Thanks for the heads-up. It's good."

"Yeah? There's more where that came from."

"Not the bar?"

"Oh, no. My quarters."

"Oh," she says, appreciative. "You have a bottle with you?"

"As I learned today, keeping a good bar can prove motivational," he says, dead serious.

"Very practical."

His eyes flicker down to her hands and back. "What can I say, I'm a practical guy."

She chuckles. "Yeah, you are."

They breathe in silence for a little while, just watching each other, and Michael knows it will have to be her call. And, oh—she wants it. Wants to not think about the clues, and failed relationships, and the bridge, wants to feel good and make someone feel good—and this is oddly uncomplicated. If there's anyone on this ship she can trust with this, it's Rayner.

"I could join you. For another glass, I mean." She counts down the steps. Three.

He gives her a hard, no-bullshit look. Waiting for her to cave. When all she does is look back, he says, "I suppose you could." Two.

They get up silently, in sync. It feels good, them on the same page, an already familiar hum, the only new thing in it the simmering anticipation.

One.

As soon as they clear his door, Rayner turns, blocking her way into the room. "Captain."

"Michael," she says. She won't do this in command, not to him, and not to herself.

He nods. "Michael. Do you actually want me to pour you a drink?"

An out, then. For her or for himself, though, she's not sure. She's halfway through a no, not really when he raises a hand, halting her words, staring her down. Fine.

"Yes," she offers, as firm as she can. "Later."

He watches her with narrowed eyes for a second, then turns to go in. She catches his wrist and tugs until he looks back at her. "This isn't part of your job," she says, wanting him to know—he must, but this isn't something she can afford to misjudge.

He barks out a laugh, looking genuinely amused. "That what you think of me?"

"Shush," she says, before he locks down and this whole thing breaks. He looks shocked at the word. "This is not part of your job."

She holds very still until he tugs his wrist free, his mouth twitching in an abortive smile. "Fine." He raises his chin, but his eyes are still laughing.

Rayner drops the empty glass onto a bedside table, dims the lights, disappears into the bathroom. She lingers back, takes it in. She expected his room to be stark, impersonal. It's not. Mostly dark, now that he's turned the warm lights down. There's a soft-looking blue throw, not Starfleet issue, over the bed that's tucked neatly against the wall. An unfamiliar vine with round purple leaves framing the viewport above. A bottle with two matching glasses in the cabinet on the far wall. It's sparse, but nothing like the ascetic box she'd imagined.

He walks back into the room, barefoot, and stops, a little awkward, two steps in front of the bed, not wanting to—presume? Michael realises just then she was hoping—once they got past the questions—for urgent, for tumble into the room, fall into bed, shut everything out sex, and barely manages not to laugh out loud. Good pick of a partner here, Burnham.

So she steps closer and looks up at him. He's tall enough that she's used to it, but up close it's a new feeling. He seems to be holding his breath when she raises her hands to his neck. She undoes his collar and keeps hold of it—she could probably drag him wherever she wants like this. He exhales on a laughter, like he's getting the joke, and folds himself down to sit on the bed.

"Here," she unzips his jacket, slides it down his shoulders, until he shrugs out of it. It's weird to be undressing someone wearing the same uniform. She wonders how long it's been since he wore anything but. She bares his soft undershirt, regulation, same as hers. He smells good, spicy, not unlike his drink. Getting to look down at him—she's struck by his angles, his pale shoulders almost narrow. Nothing like Book.

And here's the truth of it, isn't it? She could say she's getting it out of her system, a distraction from the one thing she can't have, and it wouldn't be a lie, but—she wants Rayner, here. He's sharp, and audacious, and oddly easy to provoke into uncertainty, and his eyes go warm and a little lost when someone—when she's proud of him.

So she reaches out, palm on his cheek, and he turns immediately to mouth at it, slow, eyes fluttering closed. It's dizzying. "Good," she says, has to say, and he shudders with it. She traces the edge of his ear with a finger, light, sees the start of a blush right at the tip. He leans into it. This, here. Michael wonders why he's doing this. What it is he's looking for, or trying to shut out.

His eyes still closed, Rayner opens his mouth to speak—and she drops her knee onto the bed, between his legs, warm and close. His eyes fly open, bright and stunned. She slides her hands back to cradle the base of his skull. The short buzz of his hair there is soft, silky.

"Okay," he says, and moves in, stretching up to press an open-mouthed kiss just below her ear. She draws a sharp breath. Good instincts. He moves lower. Her clavicle. The dip between her breasts. She isn't guiding him. His lips are hot through the fabric covering her ribs, hotter on her belly. He goes to slide off the bed, to his knees, and she strokes the back of his neck, and doesn't let him. He scoffs—of course he does, and looks up with almost comical annoyance.

Michael scoffs right back. "You don't hold back in uniform—this is where you start?"

Rayner laughs then, full-on, a grin splitting his face. She's heard his annoyed laugh, incredulous laugh, hiding-something-important laugh. This one is a first. "Me on your knees for you is holding back?"

Blunt—there we go, blunt is familiar territory, and she raises her eyebrows at him. "Do what you want, not what you think I want, yeah?"

He watches her for a second, like he's considering the concept, then slowly, deliberately sits back, spreads his legs further.

"Good," she says again, presses her knee right where he's—yes, hard for it, and waits out his low, uneven moan.

"Come on," Michael says, shucks everything off until she's left in her top and underwear. He grabs at her blindly then, reaches her elbows, her waist, slides further up the bed and lies down, pulling her in. She climbs up after him, not quite straddling his hips, says, "come on, Rayner,do your part," and he rises just enough to match her, bare but for his uniform top and shorts, allows her hands to settle at his face again. She thumbs over his cheekbones, over the scar crossing his eyebrow, and he spreads his fingers over her lower back, pulls her down on a hard exhale.

She takes his hand and slides it right there between them, says "go ahead", has to grind down on his knuckles as he palms at himself, rocking up into his own hand, holds his face firmly until he's gasping with it. He's slick when she finally gets him out; bites off a curse when she slides down his body. He doesn't feel any different than what she knows—coarse grey hair at the base of a long, flushed cock; soft, vulnerable sack below it. There's so much heat under her touch when her fingers circle him, a vague reminder of his origin, and that's all she gets to file away before Rayner sinks his fingers in her hair, green light, going in now.

He's quiet and almost still as she takes him in, but that's to be expected, and she closes her eyes, goes slow, gets really into it for a while, until he sucks in a shaky breath, squeezes her neck and arches up hard, says "fuck", sharp and meaning it, and "please", and that's so mind-meltingly hot Michael moans around him and can't manage more than five seconds before coming up because she needs to see him, now.

Rayner's eyes are shut tight, teeth bared. His hands slip down her arms, shaky, his chest is moving with harsh, shallow breaths. "God, Rayner," she says, taking him in hand and pumping slowly, "you're—you're good, you're so good—" and he actually keens at that, an odd high sound.

"Stop," he says, "Michael," and she doesn't, and oh, to see what this costs him.

"What do you want?"

He gasps for breath for a moment, shakes his head. Michael sighs and stills her hand on him.

"Rayner. Look at me."

He makes a cut-off sound of frustration, almost a snarl, breathes in, and meets her eyes dead-on, clear and precise. "Fuck me."

She can't help her smile. "Thought you'd never ask."

She rolls over onto her back. His eyes are all pupil as he lands on his elbows above her, and she throws her legs around him, high on his waist, draws him in.

"Wait," he says, "let me," and strokes just the tips of his fingers under her top, watching her carefully.

"Yeah," she says, "it's alright," and he helps her take it off, nuzzles her neck, then down to her breasts. She feels him hard, leaking against her thigh, and she presses her heel sharply into his lower back until he thrusts against her with a gasp, slowly, and again, keeps it up as he kisses her nipples, her shoulder, the inside of her elbow. She groans, because fuck, he's honest about this, wanting her, wanting her approval, and she whispers, "hey, come here already," and then he's inside her, his hips rolling smoothly, stroking in, and she holds his shoulders, murmurs to him, "yeah, that's it, it's good, you feel good, come on," hears his breath hitch. He closes his eyes, and in the soft creamy glow in the room the planes of his face blur a little. His hair is damp at the roots, a soft white lock falling down against his forehead.

Michael rides his steady rhythm, closes her eyes, too, his long, heated body oddly malleable under her hands and heels, and then his breath is suddenly hot and close, and she looks up to see him unsure again, doesn't get it until his hand cups her cheek and he drops his head an inch closer, hovering, waiting for permission. Oh, God, he's so—Michael draws him into the kiss, soft and wet and scratchy with his beard, and he moans into it, sounding so relieved she has to kiss him harder, fists her hands in the back of his shirt and clenches around him until his hips snap forward harder, again and again, and then he's gone.

After—when he's stopped shivering, when he's finished her off with such care she didn't know what to do with it and kept her hands fisted in his hair, holding on—they lie next to each other, on their backs, for long, quiet minutes. It's peaceful. It's what she came here for.

The room is warmer than what Michael's used to. She thinks about dressing, then discards the idea, sits up and stretches instead. Rayner's eyes don't follow her.

"I'll take that drink now."

He snaps out of his daze and looks at her. "Oh. Um, that way." He nods in the general direction of the cabinet. She finally gets to see the bottle up close—thin, pearlescent material, the liquid inside almost sparkling as the light reflects off it.

She returns to the bed with her glass, sits down, hugging her knees. Rayner hasn't moved, watching her from where he's stretched on his back, hands behind his head, bare but for his shorts. She takes a drink and strokes his shoulder, lets herself look back.

There are scars on his body, paler against pale skin, more than he'd get on a ship—even in battles, even in decades. She doesn't know if he was hiding them, and if he was, why he'd show her now, after. He looks calm, steady, but his face is pale and tired, the lines around his mouth more pronounced.

She slides a hand into his damp hair, smoothes it back. "This time, do get some rest, okay?"

"Aye-aye." He catches her hand and kisses it. His long fingers circle her wrist, thumb stroking gently at the base of her palm.

Something sharp shifts in her throat, a fierce protectiveness. This, she knows, goes both ways.

She takes one more chance. "I'd like to keep you, after. As my number one."

Rayner frowns and lets her hand drop. "Let's see how this one goes first."

Michael sighs and shakes her head at him. "You don't have to swear to it. Just consider it." She gives his shoulder a parting squeeze and gets up to collect her clothes.

As she sits down on the edge of the bed to tug her boots back on, he puts a warm hand between her shoulder blades. "Thank you," he says to her back.

"And you." She raises her hand to her badge, but turns back to give him a smile, and, for once, he doesn't look trapped. "I'll see you on the bridge, Commander."

#jesus christ i am so embarrassed by my need to write smut for a fandom i barely know bc My Dude is in it #that i was seriously considering posting this anonymously #but i keep being told that writing fic is supposed to be—among other things—self-indulgent #so here i am. indulging the hell out of that self #it took me way too long to write this and i don't so much consider it done as i am just sick of looking at it #which is a sure sign it's time to let it go #hey this is the first thing i wrote since christmas. odd #my writing #star trek discovery #michael burnham #michael burnham/rayner #rayner

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essektheylyss · 1 year

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One of my favorite hobbies is opening the Genius annotations of lyrics I'm checking purely to roast the absolutely ATROCIOUS "analysis" some people throw up with full confidence on that site, oh my god.

#this was about 'the garden' by the crane wives today but I do this with some regularity lmfao #somebody literally went 'the line about hammers and nails is clearly a reference to the crucifixion of jesus'#WHEN THE ENTIRE SONG IS ABOUT BEING BURIED IN THE GROUND. IT IS A REFERENCE TO COFFINS BABE.#you canNOT just jump from eden to the fucking crucifixion oh my god. I cannot deal #what are you a protestant youth pastor??? NO #what kind of bullshit conjecture #YOUR ANALYSIS IS BAD AND YOU SHOULD FEEL BAD!!!#god something else just came out and I was looking at lyrics like 'holy hell they really just let you say anything here.'#like I do think genius is great for finding references to things the artist actually said about what they were writing about #but if you're gonna do specific textual analysis you NEED to actually write out the argument #a lot of it is flat out wrong but some of it is like 'maybe you're right but this is so disconnected that you NEED to make the connection'

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kartana · 25 days

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I feel so sad this sucks i can't stop thinking about doing everything wrong with v I feel like im gonna cry I hate going to sleep early the day after I stay up it's just hours of laying down with stupid train of thoughts that come at night and I can't sleep I just want to sleep I don't want to feel so awful in the morning I don't want to feel awful right now I wish I could just get my thoughts in order get to the point and cry and be done with it. Nothing is going to change from yesterday to today to tomorrow I will just have been miserable and things won't change because of it I wish the world was kinder I wish the world wasn't so cruel I wish things were different I want to cry and now I can't even feel that anymore.

#i was going to save this in drafts but fuck off its my blog and the only time posting my feelings bled into real life it was with v #and it was a good thing i wish i had the fucking guts and wisdom to recognize and talk about #godddddd i feel like ripping apart my body thinking about things i did why couldnt you have been smarter better why were you you #i want to go back and be a different better me than the real me #i need to have been better what the fuck was wrong with me #big lungful of air later i will not be cruel to a naive and inexperienced younger me but god i wish i was better #theres more life theres more time its fine live with it and continue #jesus christ #i wish i could just cry my whole body feels stuck #im physically holding in the emotions out of instinct #out of old habits borne from doing anything to avoid the pain and now its stuck in my fucking chest #get out of meeeee #let me sleeeeeeep its the AM now these emo feelings are lack of sleep bullshitttttt #god i want ti call off work im quiting soon anyways #and i wont #fuck

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cinnamon-phrog · 2 months

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Saw you like one of my posts, glad you're still here even if it's just another day. Had me scared shitless worried

I had a lot I wanted to say but my laptop froze and reset again. And for the past few days I've had an awful headache and it's only now began to subside.

I've been coming on to try to reply to my friends because a staff member at my housing told me it's best I do so the sooner the better and I didn't want to worry people even though I already have, a lot.

I feel much safer now, although due to my situation and the staff at my housing not being able to leave the house, and my 'outreach support' worker being weird with what days she's free she'll ask me what day I personally want before tsking when I say for example Monday and say 'ooooooh I can't do Monday. How about all the way to Thursday' like girl you ASKED come ON.]

I've been feeling really tired despite getting eight or nine hours sleep and staying in all week. But I'm slowly getting less so the further I try to stop feeling so awful.

In my original version of this reply I wrote about everyone who hurt me. Without naming names. Because ever since I took matters into my own hands and found the courage to tell my old school and social worker what my foster carer was doing to me I've had this rage.

This feeling that these people have stolen something from me and I want to get it back by telling people what they've all done. And I'll finally get all those petty thoughts out because they've been stewing in me and I can only let them go if I write them down. I'll get embarrassed later but that's the point. If I cringe I move on. If people agree with me I feel closure. If people read it it I'll feel seen. Advice on how to move on is welcomed but not obligatory.

In getting removed from my foster carer who told me there was no way I could cross a street without holding her hand or being near her or ever have my own autonomy to going to places I want to go to on my own and living my own life almost as I want a piece of me I didn't know was taken has been given back.

But I can't get back at my school bullies. The 'friends' in school who ignored me and belittled me for their own gratification. I can't make the boys and girls who groped me simply ungrope me. Neither do I want them to experience what they did to me out of karma because it's a sick thought.

The proshit who thinks I give a shit can never take back what they said or undraw all the things they've drawn. For pretending to be my friend and giving me advice and telling me the world won't hurt me only to tell me they were a nonce all along. How can I have faith in the world when the only one to give me that faith turned out to be a monster. Who lashes out when they're not given attention AND when they're given attention. And stalks my account because now they claim to s/elfship with the trio and have stolen my 🚦🏠 tag [I have screenshots, posts, blogs, names, the lot. That can be another post if you're curious and I'm fully recovered]

No gatekeeper will ever apologise for standing 'by' me only to vaguepost that they hate people with similar or the same headcanons as me. In fact they're praised for it by even people I considered to be friends of mine.

My ex will never apologise for writing out my name in their public blog, after I'd been more or less a therapist to them. After they told me they had something 'special' planned only for it to be a huge google doc full of reasons why I made them want to kill themselves and how awful a person I am. They will never apologise because they didn't know I had no experience with these sorts of things.

I broke up with them because not only was I afraid of being bombarded with so much love was because I'd never been shown it. How I was always treated like a thing to be put away by 'friends' and my foster 'family' and so I learned to be soft. Malleable for you, for them. But I didn't want to be.

They'll never apologise for drawing Duck upset because I'm so so awful. For writing things like 'You could have had a second chance if you weren't like this, I'm poly, you and my current partner could have shared me' which is. Bonkers and petty.

My foster carer is the only person I've gotten closure from, despite her never saying sorry. For making me stay locked in my room all day, for making fun of my weight despite it being her fault, making me bathe once a week, now I bathe as regularly as I can. For calling me names and blaming me for things out of my control or for something I never did just to have someone to scream at. She'd come up with a disgusting reason and force me to write it down and her own reason why I wanted to do what she thought I did.

I am constantly told I shouldn't assume. Fuck you. I can't control that. I lived in a house where I had to walk on eggshells, in a school where I'd be humiliated but I was never allowed to retaliate. How dare you.

How dare my ex, and this one petty gatekeeping popular bitch use them taking their own life against me and blame me for how I feel. I can tell you right now you've flipped tis on it's head. But I'm living because unlike you I won't leave my friends and I actually bothered to take that step and make them.

How dare this ONE person on here pretend to be one of their own cronies and tell me I'll make them kill themselves because I had the audacity to ask if they were the same person who said if people see a fictional character as anything other than a foetus to get out of the d/hmis fandom. I still didn't get a no 'Hannah Montana' and I meant nothing as maliciously as you perceived me to be. I left college because of you. You broke my last bit of perseverance and now I have nothing. The last thing I wanted to be was someone who would want to drive someone to suicide and in saying that to me you've become someone who both proshit and I agree is a bitch. Despite me not agreeing with anything else and hating you both.

I'm told to let it go but I can't.

But if they all said sorry, and meant it, I still wouldn't believe any of them, and I wouldn't forgive them.

I've never had an apology, never a sincere one. But I always apologise, I always mean it. I've always had this earnest sincerity but nearly everyone I've tried to stand up against has such an ironic, pitiful outlook to the point where I nearly adopted it.

They all see themselves either so highly they're gods, how everything they do is so Out There and incredible [I'd almost envy them all if I wasn't feeling so sorry for them, and it didn't impair their ability to actually make friends instead of stewing in their own sour air in their own little bubbles] or so lowly it circles back to being egocentric. So afraid to change, made a step, even just a little one, out of their comfort zones.

And it's bled into me. But I refuse it.

I can't talk to my friends because I'm afraid they're like all of you. But I know they're not. But then again, I always assume the worst, don't I. Always. But can't you assume why?

But I'll try to talk more. Keep reaching out to me, a beg you. It helps so much and I am so grateful to have met such kind people despite all the awful people I've mentioned I've met.

I met my amazing R/ed D/warf mutuals not long after my ex gave me that glorified bible of every reason why I am awful for having left them. I felt horrible but you guys taught me I wasn't. II am not. And thanks to that I became more comfortable, I became more active in the s//elfship community because I gained more experience with people, getting me more friends. I'm still not as outgoing as I wish I could be but I promise you all that I love you /plat.

Even though people like me, I still don't like me. But it's still better than thinking nobody likes me.

I still have my hope and sincerity, and in writing this forb the past two or three hours I've felt so much better.

#let me know if anything needs to be tagged #i've been writing for hours jesus fucking christ #i am back. i plan to stay. i won't say such awful things again #it's good to finally say what i've wanted to say to all those people who've hurt me out in the open #instead of just hidden in tags or vaguely mentioned #in fact. i don't think i'll mention it again #until i'm finally fully over it all

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tnt-zone · 3 months

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I've had this song in my head for days now.

Something about it pulls at my chest and makes me want to cry but I can't. It feels familiar in an unknown way, reminding me of things I don't remember. Someone comfortingly takes me by the hand and says "your whole world is falling apart and changing, and you're going to deal with it on your own." If I could scream out any song into the darkness right now it would be this one.

But who knows how I'll feel in 5 years.

-Scary ⛈️

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bloodcoveredgf · 10 months

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in my prophet era

#i had a man (my moms doctor) hold my hand and pray for me to become a prophet and he asked god to give me the real shit and get rid of #all the boring fake shit and cookie cutter people and show me what i need to see and to let me see... amen #he asked me beforehand if i ever prayed to the lord to let me see things and to be prophetic and then he just.. grabbed my hand and was like #im gonna pray for you... and literally told the lord to get rid of the boring fake shit and give me the real shit...#he also said we need more crazy and weird people in the world when i told him he reminded me of willy wonka (complimentary)#and was saying how he goes to church and sees people acting cookie cutter and trying to stop people from expressing themselves and said #jesus would be laughing at them if he were there 😭 also said hes tired of seeing all the same cookie cutter people and that more people #need to follow their own paths and god made us all different for a reason...#OH ALSO THE FIRST THING HE SAID TO ME upon seeing me was immediately like are you a writer you look like a writer.... you Should Be a writer #and said sometimes the lord just speaks to us and he felt that from me immediately upon meeting me... he prayed for me to find my calling #I think hes the most real motherfucker out there and was like a tumblrina to me

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myownprivatcidaho · 2 hours

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#man my mom isnt being supportive at ALL during this time.#my dad: dont wait until youre 5 feet under to ask for help. if you need anything let us know #my mom: she has a savings account #like i don't have any money for groceries and i try to only use the savings stuff for rent but i was literally forced into using it #AND ITS NOT A BIG SAVINGS ACCOUNT LMAO. jesus CHRIST #and yesterday my dad offered to send me money but my mom is saying not to do that because 'she already gave me a check for some of my rent'#as if i dont have other needs. ????#and again. I DO NOT HAVE A LOT IN SAVINGS. JESUS #like a few years ago they couldnt be supportive and id understand and it wouldnt be as hurtful. but my dad's luck looked up a LOT #for the first time a couple years back. so they CAN be supportive now #instead my mom is just asking questions like 'what do you need money for other than rent'#like hello my savings account is running out. FAST.#and thats just for trying to oay rent with it. i have no way of paying for literally everything else #fym 'what else do you need'#also for clarity: the check is significantly less than half my rent. like my rent isnt covered and im still having to figure things out and #how to cover the rest #and shes just not being supportive at all

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opens-up-4-nobody · 9 months

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...

#im just gonna complain abt it here bc i just have to accept that i can't irl bc no one else gets it #its hard to b a dyslexic grad student. u have to read so much. and its good. lots of reading is good. u just have to contend with a soul #crushing amout of discouragement at the fact u just kinda cant read while ur peers r like sure i can read this in class and have things to #say abt it. if u make me read in my head in class i literally cannot fucking tell u what i just read. not a god damn thing and if i try to #let my computer read to me i cant fucking pay attention for long enough so i just have to accept that from here on out ill have to #physically read papers aloud which i hate so much. its the only way i can fucking understand things and it still makes me feel dumb bc ill #somehow still space out while reading and have to reread like 4 times before i understand wtf is being said. it takes forever and it takes #energy and i dont like talking very much and it also restricts me to only being able to read at home which is frustrating #and im like i need to stop my brain from distracting myself with things that dont matter and my counselor is like: ur ocd is trying to make #work ur whole life and im like yeah thats how i got it. its the only way i can keep swimming with the non dyslexics #so its like wtf do i do? i kinda have to take the hit and make work my whole life rn. morn the loss of other things for a while #i dunno im still a bummer rn. like im probably coming off as more an asocial freak than normal bc its hard to talk ans maintain conversation #rn. but whatever. sometimes things just suck and theres nothing u can do abt it but accept it and move on. ill learn lots of things with all #the reading i have to do and that's never a bad thing ...no matter how much i dont give a fuck abt animals #like jesus. i could not even begin to give a fuck about like 95% of mammals. fish r cool tho. plants too #but microbes is where its at. i dont understand y ppl dont understand how cool they r. oh well ill just have to tell them #if i can find my fucking enthusiasm. ugh i have to make one of my classes read a paper and i have to work with someone abt find it. she #works with like rabbits. i refuse to assign a mammal paper. i fucking refuse. we will do plants or microbes or fucking paleontology #i will fight her on this. ugh. light filtering or orchid speciation would b perfect. annoying #at least i get to work with some culturs this week #unrelated

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new-bird-song · 3 months

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One thing ive been thinking about lately is that like

Its okay to only ever make bad art. Its okay to only paint "boring" things or only draw the same thing a million times or only be "okay" at sewing or crochet. Sometimes i think theres this idea that its okay to make bad art because its part of the process of making good art, but i think its fine to make art that is bad or just okay and not keep looking at it thinking about ways it is flawed or ways to make it better. If you want to improve and grow, thats great and you will through the process of just doing something over and over or looking for advice or other ways of learning.

But its also totally okay to only ever want to make bad art

#art #delete later #idk ive been thinking a lot about how like #for the last few years the vast majority of my art has been drawing d&d characters largely by tracing over refs #and just drawing the same things over and over #because it makes me happy!#and sometimes i just see this come off as like. a way to moralize taste/lack of satisfaction with how your work turned out #because that peice doesnt matter its just one step on the way to making better ones #but if you only ever make lumpy pottery thats fine! you made a lumpy pottery!#like my great aunts house is covered in paintings shes made #and theyre not to my taste they feel kinda generic and bland to me #but she is showing more of her art in her house than i am in mine and im like. which of us is happier as an artist #value your art where it is #especially if its a fucking hobby! jesus christ!#if its a hobby do you want to spend so much time and energy hating it you dont enjoy it anymore? fuck!#like i just finished a sweater and now a part of me wants to break fom knitting/crochet for a bit bc ive been working hard at it for a whil #and it turned out fine but with some fit issues i know to fix in future projects #but idk #i need to allow myself the freedom to let bad art be completed art #anyway this got weirdly sentimental #i should go paint some weird fish now #also from my own experience. it helps me appreciate other artists more #because it helps me stop going oh i could do that/could never do that #and i can just go. wow look at the cool art and technical skill on display

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pinkopalina · 3 months

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as a huge batjokes shipper i want batman and joker to hate each other in the sense they dont really hate each other, they just have really different goals and see their own version of potential in the other and right now hate is the best word for their situationship. they both love the other for what they could be but neither of them wants to be what the other one wants, and that's equally as frustrating as it is necessary for them to keep existing in their current roles. they're deadlocked and that fate surrounding each other is kind of the point -- we both have to be like this, the opposite of what the other wants, for us to keep existing at all, and for giving me that gift i both love and hate you. it's an agreement. i think the hate that's there now is born from an intense underlying love.

i think batman "hates" joker for being so amazing and smart and cunning, for being able to create grand gestures and schemes, to pull people together under his charisma and make them all believe in something, for being as extraordinary as he is but batman hates that he uses it to hurt people. he hates that joker can't channel his energy into doing something good for the world, that he hurts himself and others just because he wants to be batman's greatest enemy. i think batman wants to help joker but also hates him at this point for joker exhausting him, constantly getting hurt both emotionally and physically by him, joker never trying to improve his situation, throwing away other people's lives, showing batman he loves him by lashing out and hurting him. batman hates joker because he loves his rogues, he wants to help them, and he knows they can do better. he wants to live in a gotham that doesn't need batman but he still needs to be needed, because when there's no batman, what is bruce going to be? without joker, he will continue being batman, but it's an empty crusade. some of my favorite interactions between harvey and bruce are the ones where harvey thanks bruce for "always being there for me, never giving up on me, my very best friend." even with someone like harvey, bruce can still hold onto that hope for his rogues, never give up on them, keep going for them, even if it puts them through the cycle one more time.

i think joker hates batman in the most toxic way possible, but it's still love. i just think he's selfish and doesn't want batman to think about anyone else but him, the same way he operates for batman, but if he must think about other people then joker will make it as amazing as possible! i think he hates batman for wasting his time on ordinary people, people who are so boring that batman claims he has to protect and serve and love them but joker thinks it's all surface-level. batman won't kill joker but he'll leave room for people dying in his crusade. it's a choice he allows, and even if joker knows that's a morally fucked up way to put someone in a box, he doesn't care. batman is the type of person to train himself mentally and physically for decades and dress up in a half-silly-half-menacing costume so that everyone can have an idea about him. batman himself is not normal, and joker knows that and loves that! why is he wasting his time trying to save people that use him, abuse him, don't want him to be the best he can be? i think joker's motivations for loving batman and lashing out as if he hates him lie somewhere in between extreme admiration -- like i truly believe in your cause and that you're the right person to do it, but i'm so angry at you for wasting your time on other people and i'm so hurt and jealous that you choose them over me, just so you can be a hypocrite and let them die if i want them to anyways -- and anger at his hypocrisy -- like it's easy for joker to dedicate himself to chaos and just being in batman's life by putting batman in situations that force him to be a better and better hero, but how can batman sit there and choose and pick what morals he'll uphold and who gets to live and who gets to die?

i want to be your greatest enemy because you are the greatest hero ever, and the only way you and i can keep being the best at what we do is if we do it together, because of what we both believe in.

#does this make sense. they love each other because theyre perfect for each other #but in order to create that perfection they have to do things that build resentment #and in order to ebb that resentment they have to be in constant flux. back and forth. ebb and flow. good and evil. chaos and order.#obsession and indifference.... the two themes i think we miss out on the most bc it hurts when indifference is the opposite of love #and obviously these two cannot be indifferent toward the otther #but when they have plots that do they really fucking hurt!#like when lex luthor comes into the picture and helps joker and joker starts to make batman a little jealous #like okay maybe i dont need you to obsess over maybe any strong ideals can overtake me if u lnow what i mean #and then suddenly batmans gotta prove how well he knows joker and has to be on top of him at all times #um anyways i hope these kind of! made sense!!!!!!!!! djhdkjghijsdfhksdfh #like ideally i think joker just wishes he had batman all to himself but knows he has to share #and hes such a jealous baby that he makes it hard for batman bc of it #and batman is like yes joker jesus fucking christ i love you too but you have to let me have friends #and u have to stop killing people #and jokers like why are you friends with murderers and liars and thieves but IM BAD?#and batmans like bc i actually love everyone and want to help you all and that includes u #and jokers like jo fuck you hypocrtie hahaha see at least in my loneliness i have no laurels to rest on #and bruce is like i may struggle with my morals often but that is only because im always figuring out the best way to keep helping everyone #and if i lose sight of that ill go blind and be like you and then u wont have me anymore #lol sometimes funny tag convos get the dynamic better than the meaty posts #long post #anyways sorry i just havee 2937973957273 thoughts about them and so does everyone and i wanna throw my hat in

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