Tumgik
#foster care
xt0t4llys4n300x · 2 days
Text
Me semi enjoying my day: :)
The random gut wrenching, nausea inducing, head swirling memory I swore to lock away forever popping into my head
:(
28 notes · View notes
thepro-lifemovement · 6 months
Text
1K notes · View notes
ex-foster · 4 months
Text
Tumblr media
857 notes · View notes
amoxicillin-tangent · 8 months
Text
i am given birth to by my mother. i am brought home to a falling-apart trailer. i am fed and i am not fed enough. i am aged into a small being with opinions and some semblance of autonomy; my childhood is a video game and i am given three objectives: sit down, stay quiet, and cease to exist. i am made good at the last part; it is a god-like sort of art, and so i do. silence is suited for me as well as i am suited for silence. 
i am told, gently, by my third-grade teacher to stop writing in passive voice. the noun of the sentence should be the actor, the doer, the taker. i am not a taker. never the actor of my own consciousness, of my own unconsciousness, remember, now, i am ceasing to exist. 
i am uprooted like a wilting plant, no sunlight, chipped terracotta pot, placed, never planted. grow, says the sunlight seeping between the drawn shutters, and i deny its case. i am made a masochist at all of eight-years-old, i am made for withering away. i am made mother, made martyr, made clever, made more, made machine. 
i am placed in a foster home and told the new rules. i will sleep at 2130 and wake at 0600. i will eat blueberries and coconut yogurt and i will make good grades. i will behave. i will sit down, i will stay quiet, and i will cease to exist. 
i am told, gently, by my ninth-grade teacher to stop writing in passive voice. like this, you are the subject of the sentence. i am brought home; i am subjected to my sentence. i am taught, i am created, i am embittered, i am disillusioned, i am ceasing. it is all i know how to do.
blurring letters litter the pages before me. maya angelou, oh pray my wings are gonna fit me well. oh, tell the hell-child to return to her cell. mangled beast, worthless mongrel, ceasing. perfect child, perfect victim, passive. the sentences are diagrammed by my expert hand and i am diagrammed as well, pages in a folder, problem child, trouble-maker, mentally unstable. infinitive, preposition, page-break. 
my eleventh-grade teacher is asked why was it okay for maya angelou to write in passive voice? she responds, because to write in active voice would take the focus from the corpse to the crew. i like that. i understand it. the pages aren’t so blurry anymore. i trace them with my fingertips, letter-by-letter. her bones were found//round thirty years later//when they razed//her building to//put up a parking lot. 
i am no longer still, silent, ceasing. i am no longer wilting, and no longer made, i am maker. 
grow, says the sunlight seeping between the drawn shutters. i am neither the corpse nor the crew. i reach forward with trembling hands,
and i pull the cord, and the light floods through.
643 notes · View notes
bellarkeselection · 8 months
Text
Giving Second Chances
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Gifs above don't belong to me they belong to their rightful owner
Wattpad request from Silverose365 Reader is a trouble teen the state is having trouble with so after multiple failed foster families the state calls John. The reader accidentally messed up on a job and gets called out until Rip makes a different choice than her previous foster family's.
John and Rip followed Sheriff Haskell out into one of the barns on the ranch. The three stops in the entrance seeing someone peaking their head over one of the hay bails. John slowly walked forward trying to not scare the girl off that looked to be a young teenager reminding him of meeting young Rip. “Hey there, kid. I ain’t gonna hurt you. Do you wanna come talk with us?”
“Where’s the girl from?” Rip crossed his arms looking at Sheriff Haskell.
He responded to John’s right hand. “She’s been bounced from foster home to another. She’s got a bad streak of breaking the law. I got a call saying the foster system was sending her to him until she bolted. Thankfully she ended up where they we’re taking her. Bringing her to John.”
Lifting my gaze up to the older cowboy guy wearing a tan cowboy hat I watched him bend down to her level. “Are you going to send me back to foster care….I don’t do good in that place. They all say I’m too old and reckless.” I had been moved around where I just started running away every time they sent me back in the system.
“I ain’t sending ya back. My name is John Dutton, what’s your name darlin’?” The rancher asked me offering his hand and I allowed him to pull me to stand up with him seeing another guy by the sheriff that was dressed in black with dark hair and hard eyes staring at me.
I nervously responded back to him. “Y/n. My name is Y/n, sir…what are doing now?”
“You come work for me.” John said looking at the man calling his name so I could put it with his face before he left us in the barn together. “Rip, you’re gonna teach her the way I did you.”
It had been a few months since that day and this is the longest that I have ever been in compared to my other foster homes. Placing a dark brown hat on my head I slide my brown boots on heading to the Yellowstone barn. Throwing a saddle on Lioyd’s horse I started tying it on until I heard one of the bunkhouse cowboys coming over to me. I believe Walker was his name. “It looks like a a cowgirl doesn’t know how a saddle goes on a horse.”
“What…what did I do?” I panicked beginning to twist the sterups and the back sinch backwards before I ran my hands through my hair.
Walker came over on his horse. “You put the saddle on backwards kid.”
“Crap, crap.” I mumbled under my breath quickly fixing it until John came over to me seeing that I avoided his gaze mumbling to myself unknown that he could hear me. “How could I put the entire saddle on backwards. That was stupid. I should have known that.”
It wasn’t the first the older rancher had seen her be hard on herself after she made some mistakes or didn’t be s quick as what the cowboys had told her to do something. And she would end up beating herself up over failing. John just hoped the girl saw that she was a good hand like he did. Because she was almost the same way when he found Rip years ago.
Walking through the barn I nodded to my boss Rip Wheeler who was walking with his horse when he noticed me. He climbed up on his horse addressing in my direction. “Y/n, got saddle Mr. Dutton’s horse. You’ll be riding it today with us to learn how to ride.”
Running inside the barn I took the reins of the boss’s horse tying the rope on the side of the wooden fence. Tossing the saddle over the horse I quickly tied it together. Putting me foot in the stirrups up Rip called my name. “Woah you think you’re forgetting something kiddo.” Shifting my gaze down to the ground I hadn’t noticed my hat fell off during the process.
“Ah shit…sorry sir.” Snatching it up I placed it on my head quick climbing back on the horse knowing he didn’t like wasting daylight and I always followed his instructions as fast as he said them.
Rip had me following behind him where I griped the reins in my hands bouncing with the horse watching the others herding the cattle in front of us. Normally he was leading the pack but not today. “Go herd up the ones on the side that get loose. You got that?” He kicked his horse to go when I nodded in understanding.
Running down the valley I followed after one cafe that got loose leading it back to the group. Staying close to the group another one got loose where I grabbed my rope throwing it over it head trying to lead it back but it just picked up sped. I screamed when it managed to pull me off my horse and I fell into the dirt. “No, no,…ah fuck!”
“Woah girl, are you alright?” Lioyd came over on his horse holding the reins of mine since it ran off towards him so he brought my horse back over to me.
Holding my right wrist I winced when I tried to bend it a little. “I think I just tweaked my wrist a bit….I thought I roped it the right way.”
“You roped it around the neck when it should have been around the waist so he wouldn’t run on ya. Climb back on your horse and help us finish this out.” Rip responded sternly beside his older friend.
Scurring to my feet I put one foot in the stirrup using my left hand to support most of my weight than my right. I should have done better, sir.” I apologize when Rip glared at me watching me ride off with Lioyd figuring that she meant well.
Once nightfall had come and everyone had their horses up for the night I didn’t come down to the bunkhouse for dinner since I was staying in the spare room of Rip and Beth’s house. Brushing my hair away from my face I had banded my wrist as best as I could and put everything I had in the duffel bag foster care had given to me. I just needed to wait until everyone went to bed to run rather then wait till morning already knowing what would happen. I had messed up way more than someone my age should. “I’m too old to get adopted….I will be better off just waiting until I’m eighteen. Only two more years left being someone else’s problem..”
“When I said don’t think you deserve this. I meant it literally but I didn’t you’d run from it.” Whipping my head around I gasped through tears seeing Rip was leaning in the doorway of my bedroom.
Croaking through tears I scooted up against the pillow and headband avoiding his gaze. “How did you know I’d be here?”
“Cause you didn’t come down for dinner and you ain’t missed a meal since the day you came here. You want to tell me what’s going on with you?” He presses on with his tone being both stern but went softer when he could hear me lightly crying in front of him.
Hugging my knees to my chest I buried my face into them sobbing even more when I struggle to get the words out already sensing what he was going to say next. “I’m a screw up here, Mr. Wheeler. I can’t do half the jobs you give me right…I don’t have great confidence even when I put in as much effort as I can. You see me exactly like everyone else does…a reckless teenager who won’t make it any longer in getting adopted. Cause I don’t follow directions good….so you’re done with me. You’re going to send me back tomorrow.”
“Where the hell did you get an idea like that, sweetheart?” He blurted out raising his voice in shock.
Peaking over my knees with my hair in my eyes I whispered back to him. “That’s what every family I have been with does. Why would you be any different to me?”
“Because you are the hardest working foster kid I have seen. You’ve got good manners and put in almost more effort than any of those bunkhouse boys do. And you ain’t any reckless than most teenagers are.” He came over and sat beside me on the bed removing his black hat when he went to take something out of his jacket. He unfolded a paper and handed it to me. “You are a darn good kid, Y/n. I am hoping to help you improve your confidence in time being here.”
Scanning my eyes over the paper in my small hands I couldn’t hardly believe it. “You want to adopt me..but I….thank you Rip.” Flinging my arms around his neck he was taken back not used to seeing me giving any kind of emotion like this.
“You’re welcome, darling. But promise you will still work as hard as you would if you weren’t gonna be my kid.” He hugged me briefly until he made me look in his eyes when he barely broke the embrace.
Nodding through happy tears I grinned up at the cowboy and lead hand of John Dutton. “Don’t worry I will..uh dad.”
Footsteps came down the hallway where we both glanced over over shoulders noticing that it was his wife. “You better call me mom and come eat this hamburger helper otherwise you’ll face the bear.”
“Yes ma’am.” I jumped off his lap rushing down the hallway making it to the kitchen table almost shoving food into my mouth overjoyed to actually have a place to call home.
Beth smiled at her husband when he stood by her in the hallway watching you. “She’s our kid now, baby.”
“She’s our second change at one and I gotta say she’s a pretty good one.” He responded looping his hand with hers giving her a gentle and the pair joined you at the dinner table.
Comments really appreciated ❤️
267 notes · View notes
onceuponafosterkid · 28 days
Text
I moved in with my foster parents when I was 15. I don’t live with them anymore, but my apartment is five minutes away from their house and I still see them all the time. I don’t always vocalize to my foster mom when I’m struggling because I know she has a house full of kids to worry about, and I don’t want to burden her. I swear she has this sixth sense though, because whenever I start spiraling it’s like she knows. If it’s been a few days since we’ve talked, she’ll call me and check on me, or invite me over for dinner. She’s even driven over here to pick me up to run errands with them and get lunch, just us. Sometimes I look through our texts and it’s impossible to not see how much she loves me, just from those texts. The other day I finally told her and my foster dad a little bit about what I’ve been struggling with, and they just listened to me vent, and they reassured me, and gave me advice. I’m not her blood, but she knows me better than anyone and I think that’s how she always knows, even without me telling her. I don’t know how she does it, but I’m so grateful for both of them. I know that no matter how messy my life gets, I can always come home to them, no questions asked. This is what foster care is supposed to be. I moved out almost three years ago, but they still save my seat at the dinner table. They don’t adopt kids, they never wanted us to feel like some of us were better than others, and they can’t take all of us. In the 39 years they’ve been foster parents, they’ve raised over 300 kids, but they make sure that I know I will always have a place in their lives. So when I think about what love looks like, that’s what I picture, them.
63 notes · View notes
little-noko · 9 months
Text
Tumblr media
WORLDVIEW - Street Rat 7
Little Finch is in a pickle~
Previous 
Next
Project Worldview @alainaprana
Finch and Fondu comic written and drawn by @alainaprana and @little-noko Like what you see? Please consider-
ALAINA’S PATREON | NOKO’S PATREON | MAIN STORE | REDBUBBLE | ETSY | DISCORD SERVER
THANK YOU FOR YOUR SUPPORT!
Previous entries
Finch and Fondu Chapter Cover
The Journal Cover
Campbell's Errand Cover
196 notes · View notes
b0bthebuilder35 · 2 years
Text
Tumblr media
2K notes · View notes
lillypadcrochet · 16 days
Text
One thing I think we need to stop saying in discussions about reproductive freedom is "are you going to adopt them?" because YES. they are!
Highly conservative Christians adopt and foster a lot of kids. They hold conferences about 'saving the orphans'. They view this as their chance to spread Christianity to those from "unchristian backgrounds". They prop up their public image as charitable, godly people using traumatized kids.
Think about it: a rich family, with one parent staying at home to provide great care for the kids. They have a big house and want a big family. These people are like water in the desert to dcf workers! A family with a great reputation, willing to take in sets of siblings, older kids, disabled kids, you name it! They will take four, five, six kids at a time! Foster care is so tight on homes and really does value family unification, so this is a big deal to them.
And also: these kids will, and really, have no choice but to, be good little Christians and do what they say. You'd better toe the line at this house, because they are a good Christian family. If you break their rules- whether that be behave improperly, dress immodestly, be gay or trans- they will send you back- to sleep in the dcf office, to bounce from home to home every night, to see your siblings every other week in some case workers office.
Because these people are sooooo good and trustworthy, if they say you're a "problem child" you can bet your ass that will follow you and effect your placements til you age out.
So yes, they will adopt them. And those traumatized, desperate-for-attachment children will be used and molded into gods perfect warriors.
idk. I'm rambling, but I hope this makes sense. It's been stewing in my brain for a while and I wanted to share.
62 notes · View notes
dank-pro-life-memes · 8 months
Text
Tumblr media
160 notes · View notes
wangxianficrecs · 1 month
Text
a thousand fragile and unprovable things by theLoyalRoyalGuard
Tumblr media
a thousand fragile and unprovable things
by theLoyalRoyalGuard
G, 5k, Wangxian & Mo Xuanyu
Summary: It’s a sunny Thursday when Mo Xuanyu runs away from the latest crappy foster home. He’s fifteen and he’s done. Until the day he tries to pickpocket the man in the powder blue suit. Or Mo Xuanyu gets tired of foster homes and ends up with Wangxian instead. Kay's comments: Inspired by emergent properties by luckymarrow which I have recced and loved as well. Really loved this story of Mo Xuanyu stumbling into Wangxian's life and them searching for the best way forward for him and giving him all the love and support he needs and deserves. I wish they were my parents too. Bonus feature: adorable A-Yuan. Excerpt: Lan Wangji frowns at him, thoughtful, a tiny crease between his brows. “This isn’t technically proper,” he says, slow and deliberate, “but you could come with me.” Mo Xuanyu gives him a sidelong look, weighing possible dangers. The guy doesn’t seem like a predator, but then, they usually don’t. On the other hand… he doesn’t have a lot of better options . “I, uh, I have some friends I can crash with…” the lies stick in his mouth. It’s so obvious Lan Wangji isn’t buying a word. “The friends who got you arrested for robbery and aggravated assault?” He lifts one eyebrow just the tiniest bit, and Mo Xuanyu wilts. Lan Wangji checks his watch. “My husband should be awake by now,” he says, in that careful, deliberate way like every word is calculated to matter. He doesn’t waste them. “He's making baozi.” Mo Xuanyu’s stomach rumbles. He hasn’t had real baozi in… well, since he was a kid. Despite himself, the picture in Lan Wangji’s wallet rises in his mind, the smiling man and the toddler.
pov mo xuanyu, modern setting, modern no powers, lawyer lan wangji, trans mo xuanyu, married lan wangji/wei wuxian, adopted lan sizhui, foster care, implied/referenced child abuse, homelessness, angst with a happy ending, families of choice
~*~
(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for this hard-working author if you like – or think others might like – this story.)
56 notes · View notes
intersexfairy · 9 months
Text
Hey, if you haven't heard already, please take a moment to view and sign this petition about the kidnapping of an Inupiaq baby via the foster care system. There is also this site and a twitter account you can follow to stay up to date.
The reason baby Chanel is in the hands of Joseph Jurco and Nikki Richman (racist foster parents) is that her mother (Kristen Ballot-Huntington) was murdered by her father (Eric Rustad). Her maternal grandmother (Aana Arlene) is fighting to get her grandchild back home.
Again, please sign the petition and also spread the word. Chanel's family and nation deserve a world's better than this.
(If anything in this post needs correcting, please let me know)
197 notes · View notes
gregor-samsung · 6 months
Photo
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Hunt for the Wilderpeople (Taika Waititi, 2016)
82 notes · View notes
fosterwhat · 1 month
Text
This month I have been told by 3 separate people at DCFS that my home is:
1) on hold
2) definitely closed
3) definitely open
They are ALL looking at the same database. And this sums up foster care.
40 notes · View notes
onceuponafosterkid · 4 months
Text
Something I learned growing up in foster care is how to be quiet. Being quiet kept me safe when I was living in an abusive home, and being quiet in foster care allowed me to keep my placement. It made me one of the “good kids.” Now that I am adult, I don’t know how to take up space. I’m so used to doing what I’m supposed to and keeping my opinions to myself all the time. But you don’t make friends like that, or build relationships. Now I’m trying to teach myself that it’s okay to take up space and that I deserve to be wherever I am. I deserve to be at those social events. I deserve to have an opinion. Sometimes I feel like I’m different from “normal” people because I lost so many of the experiences and opportunities kids and teenagers are supposed to have. But someone told me the other day that by telling myself that, I’m sabotaging myself and selling myself short. By having that mindset I’m missing out on opportunities to build relationships and make friends. I have to start acting like I deserve to be there just as much as everyone else. It’s a strange concept and it’s hard to rewrite my brain. It was also hard to hear, but it’s absolutely true.
99 notes · View notes
cripplerage · 3 months
Text
I'm sick of governments reluctantly giving funding to people that need it but assuming we'd "spend it all on drugs" if they don't approve each purchase.
I was a foster kid. Because I didn't have a birth family to help me when I turned 18, I got a few thousand dollars to help with basic things like starter furniture or college supplies. But because of the "they'd spend it all on drugs" mentality, someone else looked after the money for me.
I had to get invoices from stores, send them to the people with the money, wait for them to be either approved or denied, and then wait for them to send the money to the store themselves so I could get the purchases.
Not only did this mean that I wasn't allowed to shop second hand or even shop for sale items, it also meant that I couldn't spend it on groceries or bills or rent if I needed to. And it meant I could get denied for random items and not told why.
I'm a decently money savvy person. I could have gotten everything I needed for a fraction of the price (probably about 20%) and then spent the rest on rent. And fuck it, maybe I could have afforded to buy some weed to help with my pain flares.
But the government doesn't want to "help" unless it's not helpful at all. And to top it all off, the money had expiry dates. Age 21 for some of the funding and 25 for the rest of it.
I've been trying to get the rest of the funding used on car repairs for months now.
62 notes · View notes