#and pushing myself through the bad/hard parts was worth it to come out the other end

[waugh-bao]

*

[hotpinkstars]

LOST POSSESSIONS - aventurine, boothill, x reader

- in which you lost your wedding band during a conflict with something/someone.

- novas comeback post guys I'm gonna be more fluent with writing I promise. hope you enjoy this though I was gonna add Sunday but my computer is literally at 1 percent sooooooo....

- a lot of crying, minor swearing, besides that all comfort... wc 912

When Aventurine walked into your shared home to the sight of you sobbing on the couch, he thought of the worst. Are you hurt? Did something happen while he was at work? He went up to you to seek for answers.

“What happened? What's wrong?” He internally panicked, not wanting to allow you to see his current emotions. He kept calm as you sat up, tear stained face poking a hole through his battered heart.

“You’re gonna be so pissed!” You sob, somehow starting to cry even harder. You dove back into the warm cushions of the couch when you felt the part near your shins dip, and a hand running through your hair and massaging the back of your scalp.

“You can tell me anything. I won’t be upset, I promise,” he gave you a sympathetic look before proceeding. “But if you’re not comfortable with it, I won’t push you.”

You hesitantly show him your bare hands, and he takes them in his. You roll over to face him and look at him with a pained expression, and that's when he seemed to realize. 

“Where's your wedding ring?” He said, his words quick. He looked at you slightly wide-eyed before you began bawling again. He began to swipe the tears out of your eyes, his thumb coming into contact with your lower lashes as he quietly attempts to hush you and calm you down.

“Was it stolen? Did you lose it?” 

You bring a hand up to your face before sniffling. “It got stolen. The diamond was too appealing to some bastard on the streets on Golden Hour, and it was swiped right off of my hand!” 

You curl back into yourself before Aventurine comes down to kiss your face. “I’m not mad at you, babe. I’m beyond pissed off with the person who did that. Nobody seems to have even a drop of human decency these days, do they?” 

You slightly shrugged before hugging him close. He returned the hug, and held you there until you quietly whispered a question into his ear. “What are we going to do about the ring?”

He slightly chuckled before bringing his head on top of yours. “I might as well get you a new one. The old one was rather… out of date, if I must say so myself. I could get you a bigger, brighter diamond.”You attempted to protest, attempting to say everything he knew you wanted to say- even something made out of paper would be good enough for me. But he thought you were worth the shiniest, biggest, rarest stone in the world. Worth much much more than that. And this incident wasn’t much of a setback for him, and really didn’t make his wallet cry very hard at all.

Boothill doesn’t play when his significant other is not doing very well. He’s immediately at your side, stroking your hair and trying to do or say anything he can to make you feel better. 

But in this instance, it didn’t really work. He realized after a few moments that he just had to be patient, and wait for you to come to him,

“You’re going to be so mad at me if I told you,” you hiccuped, before continuing to talk. “Please don’t yell at me.”

“Why would I ever yell at ya’?” He said, his voice uncharacteristically quiet. “Whatever's got your pretty face all stained with tears can’t be that bad. I hate gettin’ mad at ya’, and ya’ know that.”

You nodded, but dug your face deeper into the pillows. Boothill simply put his metal hand on your back, and rubbed up and down. While the sensation felt cold, it seemed to work to help calm you down because you felt more at ease, and he could tell that too. 

“I lost my wedding ring. I don’t know where it went, but one moment it was there and then the next it wasn’t on my hand anymore,” you cut out, trying to hold back more tears. You could see his face change from scared to relaxed.

“Hey, don’t stress it. That’s just a lil’ setback, nothin’ to worry about. We’ll either find it or I’ll buy ya’ a new one,” he says as he picks up your now bare hand, a flash of sadness showing through his eyes. “What’ll make ya’ feel better? Cuddles? If we went out to try n’ find it?”

You shrugged, and he nodded. You buried yourself even deeper into the blankets, giving him the hint that you just wanted to stay inside for now. You felt too bad and your face was rose red from crying, your eyes puffy and your voice raspy. He climbed into the bed with you, wrapping his strong, metallic arm around your covered torso. 

“I’ll do a thorough investigation tomorrow. People don’t usually lie to Galaxy Rangers, but I doubt those adorable cutie pies would know somethin’ like that,” he immediately cringed, realizing how the sentence came out. His stupid synesthesia beacon. 

But he heard you laugh, and the cringe feeling dissipated into a warmth in his metal chest. His whole goal is to keep you happy, healthy, and safe. If he were to fail at one of those things, he’d fail at his own purpose. For now, his only thing is to cheer you up, and make sure you know that he would never be mad at you for a mistake that's not even your fault.

[andhumanslovedstories]

hi! i'm gonna overshare a little bit but i'm doing my nursing prereqs right now and i'm really worried. i'm kind of really mentally ill and i've been worrying recently if nursing is worth it. i want to help people and it sounds so interesting and i love medical stuff but i don't want to get burnt out with the stress and long hours. someone told me that nursing is a lot like being a restaurant server, and i don't want to go to school and get a degree and a career that's literally just serving again. is it satisfying? is it rewarding? is it soul-killing? i'm scared

hi there! I'll overshare in return! I'm just coming off three months of disability for burnout (which for me is just depression but with a name you can use in the workplace). My job didn't cause my depression, but it certainly exacerbated it. The hours, the stress, the constant exposure to people suffering and the limits on your ability to do something about it, all those suck and they can break your brain. (On the other hand, I've been majorly depressed while working at an ice cream parlor where the walk-in freezer was for smoking weed. You can be depressed anywhere.)

And it is a hard job! Harder in some parts of the field than others. Different places have different nursing cultures, different laws, different staffing, etc. Where I work, there's good protection and advocacy for nursing. That's not true everywhere.

With all that said--I really like nursing. I get to do work that I know contributes good to the world. I get to solve very practical problems. I meet people I would never otherwise meet. I have the opportunity every shift to do something that I am proud of. And a lot of times, I find it fun! It's fun to brainstorm how to make someone who's been puking all night feel better. It's fun to see your efforts rewarded, even in small ways. It's fun to stop something before it becomes an emergency. It's fun bustling around, juggling a dozen different things. It's not ALWAYS fun. But for me, the work is not just meaningful but also enjoyable.

That's how I knew I had bad burnout btw. Even when things went well and I did work I was proud of, every shift was such a fucking slog.

If you are interested in the basic work of nursing (managing the human response to illness and promoting health), then there's a million and one jobs you can do with a nursing degree. They cater to different traits. I've discovered I really like precepting new nurses, I like working on the floor with its routine and concrete goals, and I like symptom management. I don't like critical care or the emergency department or working on stuff that isn't patient care, like paperwork and charge nursing. I like novelty but not chaos. I like independence but not being left entirely to my own devices. I like that I physically cannot take any of my work home. I do not like being on committees. So for me, right now at this point in my life, I like being a basic med-surg night shift float pool nurse. I would be absolutely miserable as a neuro ICU critical care day shift nurse. I would be bored to death being an inpatient rehab night nurse. Being a nurse manager would probably make me suicidal again.

If you find the basic work interesting and rewarding, you can tailor it to your taste. (I can't recommend floor nursing enough for the adhd havers amongst us.)

and last thing, regarding mental illness: I think a lot of nurses (and ppl in healthcare in general) struggle with mental illness way more than they think they do. Someone who knows they have depression and works to manage it will likely be more resilient than someone endlessly pushing through their fatigue and misery. Probably a better nurse, too. I take meds, go to therapy, get sleep, push myself to eat, take sick days, protect my limited energy, do physical activity--I'm a gym girlie now!!--because I'm treating a disease I know that I have. Just knowing that there's something up with your brain and doing something about it puts you way ahead like half of the people who work the emergency department.

[littledigits]

That time when working in animation made me realize I needed therapy

Since we're on the topic of overworking / being passionate in animation and blah blah blah.  I want to share my story about working on the first season of Hilda (for context I was the animation director), specifically..how completely garbo my mental health got because 

I INSISTED ON WORKING MYSELF INTO THE GROUND. 

This is a story I've shared when I've had a chance to do lectures or talks, and if there is one really awesome thing that comes with ..weird ..animation clout, its that you can use those powers for good in terms of teaching people about the BS that comes with the job...anyway.

The reason why I like to talk about this is because I insisted on doing it to myself, and that was really got me thinking about the factors that do lead us into over working. Because heres the deal

Hilda season 1 was, without getting into too many details, a heckofatime...especally for the core crew. we were a small group, doing something new because most of us haven't worked on a show before that included pre production. My entire career up to that point had been working on service work for shows that were created in Burbank, so the new pipeline had a ton of challenges. We did all care, and we all believed in the project SOOOO much. I would tell people not to work over time, because I want my team to leave on time - but I was there...a lot. Leaving the studio by 11pm , working through the weekends..it wasnt an uncommon thing for me. sure , it wasnt all the time, but this stuff spans years sometimes so it went in waves. But whenever the challenges came up, i doubled down. because I super believed in it.

  And the thing was - other people told me to stop. I had a lot of valid concerns given to me by my friends and team members who saw how I was burning myself out at both ends. And I thought like, well , its my *choice*.  Its my chance to have a voice and be creative and try to do something different and we all have to push ourselves and yes its HARD but. THATS HOW YOU DO IT RIGHT? surely if I just make sure I’m the one overworking and my team isn't.. that's fine. 

Well, no, I was immensely effecting my team maybe I wasn’t telling them to work late, but they were seeing me get more and more tired and stay later and later.  I thought they would still approach me for help, or if they struggled. But the issues they had they kept to themselves without wanting to put more on my shoulders. Because they *cared* , just as much as I did ..and we all took more on our shoulders then we should have and there were a lot of things that I could have solved had I fostered a better communication environment.  I became really resentful in my head over the smallest things, I actually saw myself becoming a more hateful person and easily annoyed. I came home every day rambling about the frustrations. Now, let me preface this by saying - my mental state did not only have to do with overworking. I had and have things still to unpack, but the control I had over work and the validation I got from it was a coping mechanism for me. I really didnt think i had any worth as a person outside of this job. It basically was a very nasty cycle that didnt stop until ...well I had gotten so bad I had to.  By the end of the first season I was actually incredibly close to quitting . I was in big anxiety attack territory because I was so worn thin- I had started therapy but eventually moved onto getting medication as well and that was what allowed me to stick it out. ( I have the same therapist and I am on the same meds, it was very hard to do at the time, but i cant imagine my life now without making that choice ). After it was done I was immensely supported by the studio and worked part time as a trainer, which is what i requested to give my brain a break. (Only a few of my closer friends knew how bad I was getting but it was pretty obvious I needed to rest) I'm really proud of the work we did and we keep doing on the show, ..and some other people may have gone through something similar and found it was worth it, but thats not me. I still struggle not to fall back into that mindset, but it helps knowing that if i keep myself out of it , i can help my team out of it, because I know they care about this show just as much as I do. I’m not a martyr, I am a leader, and its up to me to keep myself healthy so I can keep my crew healthy.   I always strive to be better, but i get to decide what that looks like - and for me ..better has nothing to do with the image on the screen. Its got more to do with the experience of the people around me. Readjusting those priorities has helped a lot with keeping my head above water and not add to the pressure that makes it so hard not to get sucked down in the first place.  I do think its good to talk about though , how our passion and language and drive can lead to a lot of us being a part of this cycle. And if theres one good thing about the challenges, its sharing them so at least others can learn faster then you did ;) . take care of yourself friends.

[xproskeith]

can you tell i'm bored-

please answer those. i also drew a ghost for you. because i'm bored. i'm gonna answer my asks too lmao HAVE FUN!

Lmao ok but I actually love this. The you wrote it out AND the ghost! Tis the season!! 👻🎃 Now let's begin!

11: best friend?

My best friend is awesome! His name is Ben and we've been friends since we met at college for our first degrees (we'd both end up going back for nursing later. He ended up following me on that front). But we really started to get closer after we both graduated and especially after I moved back to New Orleans after moving home after graduation for a year and a half. He's just a really cool and chill guy who has always been there for me and been super supportive. We've both helped each other through some really rough times in our lives and really supported each other. He's pretty introverted, tho if you met him you might not realize that at first. It's a hilarious contrast to my extreme extroversion. I also owe meeting my wife to him. He pushed me to finally get on the dating apps and I met my wife on hinge. He also encouraged me when she and I started talking and dating seriously. He also knows how to deal with my anxiety very well and respectfully, tho my anxiety has gotten immensely better than it used to be. Still, worth mentioning. He's also said on multiple occasions how much he appreciates and like how I am just unapologetically me and an unapologetic nerd. To quote him, "genuine folks are hard to find." So that was also really cool to hear from him and just reaffirmed that being myself is the right move. When he lived in the city with me, we'd hang out at least once a week. But we text daily for the most part and still try to see each other as much as we can even tho he's 2.5hrs away now. He was my best man and gave an amazing and touching best man speech. Now, almost a year later, people still talk about it and quote him, "IDK how else to describe him other than he's aggressively friendly." it's accurate and everyone who has heard that agrees lol. Anyway, he's great and I'm blessed to have him in my life. Here's a pic of us at my bachelor trip and before my wedding. As you can see, and as I've mentioned before in various other posts, the dude is built like a Greek god lol

15: favorite movie

This is actually a hard one lol. I enjoy a lot of movies, but have a hard time narrowing down a fave. Hmm. Deadpool and Wolverine is certainly up there for very obvious reasons, but a movie that has always stuck with me since I was younger is The Prestige. It's a well done film whose twist really got me at the end. It's rare for me not to figure out a movie twist before the end and this one I did not see coming.

18: most traumatic experience 

You're gonna get 2 for the price of 1 lol. 1 childhood trauma and 1 adulthood trauma. Both cover a span of time instead of one specific incident.

First is childhood. From pretty much 1st - 4th grade, I was bullied pretty often. I was a very big and fat kid who was also nice and didn't exactly fight back, so I suppose in retrospect that made me an easy target. But beyond that, I was often made the butts of my peers' jokes or would be asked to do something silly or embarrass or the like and they'd say stuff like "of course we're you're friend!" and "if you do it, we'll be your friend." so this went as well as you can expect. It got so bad and took so much of a toll on me that my mom literally pulled me out of school to homeschool me from 5th-8th grade. This would eventually become repressed as the mind often does only to rear its ugly head later in adulthood when my friends wanted to institute a "punishment" for whoever placed last in our fantasy football league. I had always opposed this idea, but they we were really pushing for it that year. Didn't help I was dead last, but I was having such a visceral reaction and didn't know why. But I was literally about to drop out of the league because of it. Then all of a sudden the memories came flooding back and I finally understood the why. I explained it to 3 of my friends in the league, including the guy in charge, and they abandoned the punishment idea. They said they hoped they knew that this was very different and that no ill will was meant. I did, but it didn't stop how I felt. So the punishment idea was dropped.

Now for adulthood. That would be working through COVID as a nurse. This was traumatizing in many ways, but in particular there were 3 key points. The first was watching patients deteriorate and die so rapidly. Like I would leave in the morning and come back to find out my patient coded and died 3 hours after I left. They were fine before then. We also called so many rapid and codes because people would deteriorate so much and so rapidly. Despite everything I knew and docs and nurses way more experienced than me knew, we couldn't save them all or stop the rapid spiral.

Secondly, every time a code blue or rapid response is called overhead, it's preceeded by a beep on the intercom. I would hear that so many times during that time that I found myself to physically flinch and tense and my heart would race whenever I'd hear it. Even a year later when it was just happening to make an announcement. Didn't realize it was legitimately a PTSD response until I was talking to an army buddy who was like "Yeah dude that's what happens to me when my PTSD gets triggered." I overcome that by becoming the code and rapid nurse for my icu when I moved. So I just threw myself headlong into it and overcame it by exposure and desensitization.

Lastly, there was the whiplash of being called a hero and having my knowledge and insight respected only to be called a liar months later. By my own family even. I still remember making a lengthy thoughtful post about the importance of making and explaining why surgical works for day to day vs the n95 masks needed in hospital and the same day my mom made a post about how covid is a lie and masking is just the government trying to control us. My family has on multiple occasions told me my experiences weren't real and I was exaggerating, especially because I'm liberal. After many fights, we all finally agreed to just never talk about it around each other. An uneasy peace, but better.

So there you have it. My two biggest traumatic experiences lol.

21: what I love most about myself

My kindness and willingness to help people

28: a description of the person I dislike the most

Hmm I don't really dislike people. But I suppose this one older lady at work. Kind of short, white, fading blonde hair that's always short. She's always unhappy lol. Mostly dislike her bc she gatekeeps certain patients and has full control over the schedule despite not being the manager.

42: last thing I ate

Greek yogurt and pumpkin seed granola

[cherrycola27]

Last Hurrah

Warnings: GUYS this is a heavy fic. I'm serious Minors DNI, 18+. Language, drinking. Mentions of head injury. Trigger Warning! Suicidal thoughts and actions

Pairing Rooster x Reader (Call Sign Juliet)

...................................................................................................

Part 1: In fair Fightertown where we lay our scene

For most people, when their life comes crashing down, they never saw it coming. They are the lucky ones. But for me, the whole thing played out infront of me in a series of scenes straight out a Shakespearean tragedy. How ironic really.

The first act came when watched my fiancée Rooster Bradshaw eject from his plane before it crashed into the side of a mountain.

The second came with the news that he had a head injury.

And the third, the final nail in my coffin, the dagger through the heart, was that when he woke up, he had no memory of who I was or our relationship over the past eighteen months. How very Nicholas Sparks.

All that happened six months and seventeen days ago. And for those six months and seventeen days, I, as well as every other member of the Dagger Squad family had been desperately trying to get him to remember me, to remember us, to remember the love we had, but nothing worked.

About a month ago I realized that there was little chance of Rooster ever remembering who I was, so I started making calls.

Do you know what it's like to have to explain to a baker, a venue owner, a photographer, a wedding coordinator, as well as sixty of you closest friends and family that you had to cancel your wedding because partner doesn't remember who you are? Because I do, and let me tell you, it sucks.

What might be worse is that for the past six months and seventeen days I have spent every night, crying myself to sleep, alone in the bed that we once shared.

For the past half a year I've felt as if I'm watching my life go by in slow motion. The world is moving forward without me. Rooster has gotten better for the most part, but he still doesn't know who I am. It kills me to see him happy, smiling, laughing, living without me.

And every time I see a girl flirt with him, the knife pushes futher into my chest. It isn't fair. I should be happy for him, happy that he is alive. But I'm not. Maybe it's horrible of me to think that way, but it's cruel that he is living carefree and smiling, while I'm a shell of the woman I once was.

Everyone has tried to help, but they know it's useless. Rooster and I are... friends... at best. But how can you be just friends with the person who six months ago promised you forever.

He is the one who almost died, yet I'm the one who did.

I'm not really living anymore, I'm just going through the motions. I get up, go to work, fly my plane, get a drink at the Hard Deck, go home, cry myself to sleep, and do it all again the next day.

It wasn't supposed to go like this. Rooster was the Romeo to my Juliet... a running joke with my call sign after we started dating.

Maybe it's karma for having Juliet as a call sign or maybe God has a sick sense of humor. Either way... I'm starting to think she was right... if you can't have the person you love in your life, is it really worth living?

"Hi there." A male voice snaps me out of my spiral. "You're Juliet right? I'm Dodger. I've seen you here a couple times, and I noticed you're glass is empty. Can I get you another drink?" He asks. I look him over. Dodger, I've seen him a few times. He is a bit younger than me and I probably out rank him. He is bad to look at, but he isn't Rooster. He hasn't been around long enough to know our history, and it's not like I wore your engagement ring anymore.

It felt wrong having a man give you attention, but Rooster got plenty from the girls...

I spent about an hour talking to Dodger. He flirted with me relentlessly, and honestly it felt good to have someone pay me attention, then before I even realized it, I had invited him home.

I made it as far as the couch before I stopped him. It felt wrong to let another man touch me, kiss me, let alone try to fuck me on the very couch Rooster had taken meu many times.

I mentally kicked myself that night after he left. I wasn't doing anything wrong— or was I? Everything seemed so unclear. I hadn't slept with anyone since Rooster's accident, I wondered if he had.

As the days drug on you found yourself slipping away more. You were short, angry, mean, bitter to those around you. You spent your days going through the motions and your nights crying or drinking away the pain.

And then, one Wednesday morning for no reason in particular the perfect plan hit you. That morning, you were asked to come in Friday night for some test flights. And that's when the realization hit you.

You were much happier the rest of the day. Thursday you smiled for the first time in ages, and we Friday came around, you were more than excited to go out.

Everyone commented how you seemed like your old self again.

You had a couple drinks at the Hard Deck but not too many because you did have to fly later that evening. You sang karaoke with Phoenix, danced without a care in the world, and even beat Hangman in a game of darts.

After a while you got hot and decided to step out on the deck for some air. You smiled knowing your friends would have a happy moment to remember you by.

You must have been out there longer than you thought because Jake came to check on you.

"Hey Jules, you okay?" He asked.

"I'm great Jake. You know I've been so lucky to have had you and everyone as friends. Rooster has been too. Make sure you watch out for him for me." You smiled as you hugged him.

"Well, I'm off to do a test flight. Goodbye Jake." You smiled with a tear in your eye.

You said your goodbyes to everyone else, save for Rooster. It hurt too much. Then you made your way to your car. You looked back at the Hard Deck one final time before putting it in gear and driving away.

You were gone for maybe five minutes before the wheels turned in Jake's head. He quickly found Phoenix. "Nat, I know I sound crazy but I think Juliet is going to hurt herself." He told her.

"What do you mean? She was fine when she left." Nat looked confused.

"That's the thing. She was a mess two days ago then all of a sudden she flips. They say that happens a lot when people decide to— and when were on deck she said she was lucky to have had us as friends and she asked me to watch out for Rooster for her. I know I sound crazy but Nat, I'm worried about her... she's supposed to do some test flying tonight... what if she..." Jake trailed off.

"You don't think she would? Do you?" Phoenix asked stunned.

"Phoenix her whole life fell apart. The person she is in love with doesn't know who she is. That's enough go make even the most sane person do something crazy." Jake said.

"Oh my God we have to do something." Phoenix said.

She and Jake quickly gathered everyone and explained the situation. Jake desperately tried to literally smack the memories back into Rooster with no success. Leaving them no other options the crew piled into the Bronco and Coyote's Jeep and raced to the air field.

Juliet took her time with her preflight checks, if it was going to be her last, she wanted to savor it.

Once she deemed everything perfect she placed her helmet on her head and climbed in the cockpit ready for take off.

"Mav you have to stop the training Juliet is going to hurt herself or worse!" Bob screamed into the phone while Jake drove. Phoenix was still trying to explain to Rooster what was going on but he was clueless.

There is no telling how many traffic laws Jake broke as he drove, but he didn't care.

Without warning, he hit a pot whole and a photo fell from the visor into Rooster's lap, and like lightning, every came back to him.

"Jake, where's Juliet, and why are you driving my car?" He asked.

"You know who Juliet is?" Phoenix asked leaning forward.

"Yes why wouldn't I?" Rooster asked. There was a collective sigh of relief, but then panic set in. Phoenix and Bob explained to him what happened and Rooster was in a panic.

Minutes later they pulled into base and jumped from the car, running to range control.

Mav had informed them that he couldn't get ahold of them. It was a race against the clock.

Juliet took a deep breath as she flew, she admired the sunset over the mountain peaks.

She took in the beautiful colors all around her, up here her problems seemed so small. She looked on her dash at the photo of her and Rooster. She grabbed her chain that held her dog tags and her engagement ring. She gripped them tight in her hand as she pulled the nose of her plane into a steep climb. Her goal was to send herself into GLOC so she wouldn't feel any pain.

She ignored the calls of the range control officers telling her to level out. She didn't hear the sounds of her friends bursting in the room yelling for her.

She tried to keep her breath even as she felt the g-forces pressing on her body, and then right before the blackness took over, she heard Rooster's voice calling out to her.

"JULIET!" He screamed over the comms. "Juliet, it's me Rooster, it's Bradley, please come in." He and the other range officers desperately tried to reach her, but there was no response.

The group looked out the tower window to see if the could spot her in the fleeting evening light.

They looked out just in time to see the ball of fire erupt from her plane as it collided with the side of the mountain.

Tag List: @dreamingathighaltitude @shanimallina87 @luckyladycreator2 @mak-32 @katieshook02 @samhapner6 @rosiahills22 @thedroneranger @roosterforme

Let me know if you want to be tagged in any other parts

[doodlesfromthebird]

Heya I've been drawing for a few years now but I'm still learning every day and I'm more than aware of the skill gap between me and others which is fine I am willing to work hard and improve. You and your art is a really big inspiration to me and I hope to reach your level someday. Can't help however but be really demotivated and easily affected by the difference between me and others and I know I shouldn't compare myself with people who have been drawing for wayyy longer than I have. What was your experience while improving your art? Any words of wisdom from the bird? I love drawing and I don't want to lose this kind of connection to it but most of the hours I spend practising are driven by spite and hatred over my own self aaaagh is this too personal lol thank god for the anonymous option lol I LOVE YOUR ART, I look at everything your passion for art overflows through your work.

Hey, pal! It's nothing to fret over, and I'm glad you feel comfortable sharing this! I think getting all your thoughts out this way is already good way to start, and I hope that alone was able to let off some steam on the subject.

I absolutely know how this feels, and it's still something that crops up for me time to time, too! It's gotten easier to manage over the years, but there's certainly times where it's taken the wind outta my sails and sunk my energy to be creative.

I think when you're wrapped up in that headspace, the best thing to do is stop the struggle and don't try to force progress. Don't even allow yourself to problem solve, or ask anything from yourself when that cloud's over your head. There have been plenty of times where I just end up making myself feel worse by simply asking "why do I like to create in the first place?" because I'll come up with overly critical answers "well, it's the only thing I'm good at"

Wait til you've distanced yourself from that frustration, and then give yourself time to reflect. Why do you actually enjoy making art? What about your connection to your creativity is so special to you? At what point in time did you enjoy drawing the most, and why? Why do you want to improve in the first place?

It's difficult because I think it's wonderful that you're pushing yourself to improve and practice. There's been many times where I've wished I could go back in time and tell myself to get more serious about practicing sooner. However, I absolutely don't think it's worth putting strain on your connection with your creativity. I think spite can be a powerful motivator, but when it's fueled by your own dissatisfaction and hatred for your own work, it cuts off the flow of that essential part of you that loves to create for the sake of it.

Sitting down to practice is going to feel like torture, because that spark of joy just CAN'T get to ya when you're trying to appease that part of you that thinks its you're gonna get left behind if you don't work harder. Brute forcing improvement has absolutely worked for some people! But it's also completely normal for that work style to make YOU feel miserable if it's at odds with how you actually enjoy drawing.

Is this all to say that you should only try to get better when you're in LOVE with how you feel about art? Not at all! You don't have to try and add any special feelings or force positivity, you just have to remove the resistance and the burden you put on yourself as best you can.

So if I could suggest anything, as corny as it may sound: be more kind to yourself. I mean it! Make peace with where you are. Celebrate your small wins. Detach yourself from it, if nothing else. Your art isn't always going to look better than it did yesterday, but look back on your work from a year ago! If you don't like the way your art looks, that's fine! That can be 100% true and it doesn't have to be a bad thing. You're going to improve. Take inspired action and practice in a way that draws that connection you treasure with art closer to you. Spend more time listening and indulging in what the creative in you wants to do in between study sessions.

I can comfortably say that I'm at the skill level where younger me would have wanted to aspire to be at. And yet, I have MANY days where I look at my work and wished it looked like someone else's. I still stare at a blank canvas with an idea in my head and feel dejected because my skill level isn't up to par with what I want to achieve. I promise you your art has value the way it looks Right Now.

Once you give yourself that grace, you're going to start looking forward to practicing. The inspiration that'll hit is going to motivate you to try things you might never have thought you'd attempt. Once you look at your work differently, your work is going to change. That's not going to be easy at first, but you can start by just saying "I am where I am, and I'm getting ready to be even better."

If you're interested in some suggestions to maybe get in the flow, while also satisfy the brain's need for Progress when practicing just isn't hittin' right:

Challenge yourself to scribble whatever pops into your head. Anything. Maybe it's absurdly complicated! Who cares. draw The Last Supper from memory in five minutes as best you can. Draw an insane fight scene with stick figures in weird angles. Your brain is going to !!HATE!! doing it, but that's fine! It's going to force you to detach from it. Allow yourself to create something that's bad and can be thrown away right after. Don't spend more than 30 minutes on these. Take the most complicated ideas off a pedestal by just Attempting them anyway.

Challenge yourself to draw only what would appease your inner child for a full day. If you used to trace over screenshots from a tv show to insert a fan character in, DO THAT. Draw something while listening to the soundtrack of one of your favorite video games as a child. Draw an alternative book cover for one of your favorite childhood books.

Practice anatomy by turning the models your referencing from into your favorite characters.

Color/paint a scene/character by picking colors from a screenshot in a movie you really like.

put on a favorite show/movie and draw for the entire duration of an episode/movie run-time. Draw passively without the intention of showing it to anyone.

draw a bunch of large, wonky shapes that fill up the entire canvas/paper and draw mini illustrations contained within those shapes.

IF ALL ELSE FAILS!!! GO TAKE A NAP!!! :) Don't be hard on yourself for being hard on yourself, either. Allow yourself time and ease.

I hope any of this brought hope, or comfort, or even just something to consider. I'm so glad you enjoy my art!! Thank you for your kind words. You and I and everyone else are walking this same road to improvement, and even though sometimes it might not feel that way, we're ALL walking side by side. You aren't alone, friend.

[sunshines-bee-farm]

Cotton Candy Skies [Agere Minecraft Fic] [APTR AU]

Trigger warnings: fighting [happy ending]

PUDDLES WATCHED. 

Over the course of his months with Star and Oliver, he did a lot of watching. Watching that soft voice overtake Oliver’s throat as he came close and helped Star ease into her regression. She didn’t regress voluntarily, like Puddles did, rather it happened as a trauma response or just her brain deciding she needed some serotonin. Puddles saw it first hand one night, when Star and him got into a fight. 

“I just feel so… pushed aside,” he had admitted, and Star got defensive. 

“We literally asked you to move in.” 

“I know, but…” He cringed. He was bad at expressing himself. He never made any sense. 

“I just don’t understand what more I could do to make you feel like you’re part of the family.” 

Part of the family. He stared at her, suddenly angry. “What?” 

“What more do you need?” 

“Part of the family?” He repeated, standing. 

Oliver wasn’t home. He had run out to do some late-night hunting, as they were almost out of food. He wasn’t there to step in. 

“I’m not part of anything. I eat dinner alone in my room.” 

“Dinner that Oliver cooks,” Star argued. 

“I play by myself.” 

“With my toys!” 

“I never asked for your toys!” 

She stood, too, crossing her arms. Her breathing was coming out quick, erratic. “This is so unfair, you’re making me feel so bad and we— we let you move in, I don’t—”

Puddles flinched. He didn’t want to make her feel bad. His whole intention here was to convey his feelings. He was never good at that, though. He always made people feel bad, which was why he had to stop conveying his feelings, immediately. It was never worth it. 

He should’ve stayed silent. 

Because now Star was hyperventilating and snapping angry, mean words, until Oliver burst the door down and ran over to her. He spared Puddles a glance, once Puddles merely caught through wet eyes, and he could have sworn Oliver looked worried. But it was just hope, as always. Because he picked up Star and carried her into their bedroom. The door shut. 

And he was once again alone. 

So he went back to watching. Watching the hand on the small of Star’s back, pulling her close so he could hug her. Watched the pride in his eyes as he accepted a coloring Star did for him, messy and imperfect and so cute. Watched them stumble out of the bedroom in the morning, when she’s big and they have stars in their eyes but only for each other. 

Puddles had only had one caregiver in the past. An older man who he couldn’t remember the name of. They were together for four months, and it was the worst four months of Puddles life, disguised as the best. Most people who had been through something similar to Puddles swore off caregivers, partners, the like. The difference was Puddles saw that his experience was not universal. Puddles saw, through Oliver, there were good caregivers out there. 

Just not for him. 

Puddles stopped sleeping in his bed. He didn’t know why. He just did. Somehow he found it unbearable to be beneath the soft covers, reaching his paw out endlessly for ghosts under the sheets. He curled up inside Star’s toybox, full of plushies and hard blocks that dug into his sides, and somehow a blanket always ended up over him by morning. Star made a comment about it being his nest. He didn’t mind. She didn’t sound like she did, either. 

One day Puddles didn’t get out of bed. He didn’t know why. He just didn’t want to. And no one asked him to. So why would he? 

It wasn’t until it was dark again when there was a hand on his shoulder. Dry tears matted his fur beneath his eyes, so he didn’t raise his head, only hummed what he hoped sounded neutral at least. 

“We’re worried about you, Puddles,” Oliver said softly, and it made chills chase across Puddles’ skin. “Are you feeling sick?” 

“No,” he admitted. He hated lying. 

“What’s going on?” He was using his Caregiver Voice. Why was he using his Caregiver Voice? 

“Nothing,” he mumbled. 

“Just didn’t feel like getting up today?” 

“I guess not.” 

There was silence. Puddles wanted to cry. They always left him alone, why not now? 

“Well, Star is off visiting a friend,” Oliver said. “And I think you and I deserve some bonding time. She gave me free reign on the dollhouse. What do you say?” 

Puddles looked up in confusion. “What?” 

“Do you want to regress and play with me?” He asked clearly. “I think it would help you feel better.”

Oliver wanted him to feel better. Why was that so hard to get through his head?

“Come on, pup.” He smiled and held out a hand. “Come play with me.” 

He couldn’t resist that if he tried. He took his hand and allowed Oliver to pull him out of the toy box. He was still dressed in the onesie he had on last night, which was lavender and covered in pink axolotls, so he didn’t feel too awkward being in the playroom. 

“What do you want to do first?” Oliver asked. 

“Um…” Puddles hesitated. What if he suggested something Oliver hated, but he agreed just to be nice? Puddles would feel so bad. 

“How about you just tell me yes or no, okay?” Oliver smiled. 

Puddles nodded. Oliver looked around the room curiously. 

“Hm… dress up?” 

Puddles hesitated. Then shook his head. 

“Pretend?” 

Puddles perked up. “Yes!” 

“What kind of pretend?” 

“Um…” He thought about it very hard. “Can we play house?” 

“Sure, sweetheart.” Oliver grinned. “Who do you want to be?” 

“The son, like Christopher Robin!” Puddles ran forward and grabbed Star’s soccer ball. “But I’m also… a pirate!” 

“Okay,” Oliver laughed, “sure, you’re pirate Christopher Robin. And who am I?” 

“You’re also a pirate,” Puddles said, crashing down into little space. “But we don’t know that we’re both pirates and we need to hide it from each other!” 

“Ohhhh, okay, that’s interesting, sure. So how do we know each other in real life?” 

Puddles faltered. There was an obvious answer, one Puddles liked very much. But he just couldn’t live with himself if he made Oliver or Star uncomfortable. 

“Maybe I adopted you.” 

Puddles looked up in surprise. “Yeah?” 

Oliver patted Puddles’ head, and offered him a hug. Puddles took it eagerly. “Yeah, kiddo. But we were both pirates before then and we have no idea!” 

Puddles giggled. “Yeah! And now I’m late coming home to dinner!” 

They broke apart and Puddles ran out of the room, only to come bursting back in, fake panting and apologizing for being late. He pretended to take off a pirate hat and throw it behind his shoulder. Oliver laughed, and it surprised Puddles with how sincere it sounded. 

“You worried me sick!” Oliver cried. “You were gone all day, and I had no idea where you were.” 

“Sorry,” Puddles said sheepishly. “Can I help make dinner?” 

They stood at Star’s play kitchen and pretended to chop vegetables, putting them in a giant stone pot. They pretended to be mother and son until it got dark, avoiding each other when they were pirates and eventually having the big reveal, gasping overdramatically and pretending to be unsure of how to move forward. Eventually Puddles fell asleep, curled up in Oliver’s lap in a pirate hat. 

Star came inside the next morning to find Puddles curled at the foot of their bed. Oliver rolled over in bed, his head at the pillows, and pulled Star close. 

“How was your time with Puddles?” She asked uncertainly. 

“Great. He’s a great kid, just like you.” 

“So are you wanting to ask him?” 

“I think so, but I’m not trying to rush you.” 

“I…” Star thought about it for a second. “I’m not ready, but I wouldn’t feel right hiding our intentions from him. So why don’t we just see what he wants and go from there?” 

Oliver kissed her forehead. “My little Star, so smart. We’ll talk to him when he wakes up.” 

What they didn’t know, is that Puddles had heard the entire conversation. 

___

Tag list (ask to be tagged):

@lottilamb

[royalberryriku]

Terrible coping mechanisms taught through each generation is horrible, but I just need to say I'm specifically so tired of fear that's taught through each generation. It really sucks.

And for us (me and my brothers), it means either 1) conforming to that fear and becoming anxious to everything ourselves to the point we start to be afraid of even living at all, or 2) break out of that entire cycle of generational trauma. The hardest part is that, while I'm trying so hard to do the latter, when we all live together because there's a whole ass financial crisis and we're kinda stuck relying on each other to survive, it's really hard to break out of the repetitive push by everyone around you to Shut Up and Back Down. Because the worst part about when you go with the former (or for people like my mother) is that any attempt to not be afraid is a disruption to that illusion of peace, it means confrontation and that's a *threat*. So it automatically means doubling down to said "threat" until they back down again. It's creates this loop of:

Like, okay. My grandparents were taught to never express themselves and shame one another, and to especially shame themselves. My mother grew up thinking that people could never be themselves or they'd get hurt. So then she raised me and my brother's to always ALWAYS hide everything, to faun, to constantly avoid shit because, to her, that was actually "wrong", "dangerous" and "bad". If I am trans in public?? That's worse than knowing and hiding it in her eyes because she genuinely believes that being outwardly different means suffering more than it'd be worth. And the thing is, that applies the same with everything else too. If you raise the alarm about an adult who's abusing you, you might risk getting hurt, if you argue against someone with a different opinion then that's far worse than just shutting up to her. And it's so so sad because I KNOW where it comes from with how my grandparents are. It's all from her own fear and insecurities. And shit... it just really sucks for us both. I feel so bad for her with how much fear she's holding onto to the point where she's *terrified* of even opening up to people. She assumed people will hurt you because that's been her experience. She can't be honest with herself to confront anything because that's "dangerous" to the point she needs to absolutely reject the idea of ever confronting anything.

Two people are afraid -> one breaks out of the fear mentality -> this is seen as a personal attack by person A and causes more fear for them -> they lash out -> person B becomes afraid at the lashing out -> both are afraid again -> one breaks out of fear.

Rinse and repeat.

Fear is so tricky because it's there to try and protect us, but when it's all you know and what has become "comfortable" in the sense it's what makes you feel this illusion of safety and peace by staying away from any and all confrontation, then it becomes harmful. And it *spreads*. When someone lashes out because of their fear, it makes people around them afraid and it just keeps going over and over. It's such a huge issue in my family and I really do rush us the best success in us all seeing it and giving each other enough space to heal from these generations filled with fear.

But...also on a more personal level, I'm also just very tired and frustrated. It's hard being told over and over that my existence has to be hidden, that I can't breathe, that I need to be quiet and let myself be used and hurt over and over to "survive". To me, that's not survival but just conditioning. I'd rather be the one that's hurts me than someone else, I'd rather be stupid and reckless than careful and stifled. But more than anything, I'd rather that someone else chooses to hate me, rather than I end up becoming someone who hates myself for what other people think, all to just please them.

[leggyre]

You got any adivce for someone who's considering dropping drawing completely since they don't like what they're making at all?

honestly i've been in the same struggle recently bc it just hasn't been a good year for me. i haven't been drawing a lot bc most of the time i'm either sick or i just.. can't. I've been picking myself up as of late and it's a really difficult grind, but honestly the fact i've been able to actually start this grind is already good for now. I guess that counts as advice; be patient with yourself. Self-esteem doesn't come easy and the little steps are worth so much more than you think.

ok so uh,

-if you just started, don't think about it too much. we all start with the weird scribbles. if you stop now you might never get back to it -if you've been trying to doodle often and always end up hating the result, just take a break. art block is seasoning for burnout and you might just be tired. a lot of times i've felt bad about my art i kinda "gave up" for a while and when i came back to it it was like "wtf this easy what was my issue (it was burnout)". so take a break, play some videogames or hang out with your friends for a week. idk write essays about the media you like? it feels like you're being unproductive but resting IS part of productive because just pushing yourself will just result in nothing being done at the end of the day. -look at your favorite work! im not quite out of my latest artblock yet because its a tough one(it's been teaming up with depression caused by health problems it suuuuucks :/), but when i went long enough without being able to draw I kinda started feeling like I can't do shit and can't call myself an illustrator at all specially bc what i do isnt that big of a deal compared to others(<- comparison also big mistake remember youre the only one who can make YOUR art), going through my folders and seeing the stuff I like the most gave me a LOT of motivation to keep going, even if I was still unable to start drawing right away. not giving up is so important. -so yeah love your art. focus on drawing things you like because it's a gift from you to you, and you should treat it as such. i know it's really hard to be positive about it all the time but it can be really good to go through all your artwork at the end of a day and look at the things you like about it, even if it isn't much. -on that note, find something you really like drawing!!! back in high school i had massive periods of depression that kept me from drawing but i occasionally found sort of a 'life hack' for myself which were things i was always able to work with even during the worst times. one of them was just.. bees. i just doodled random characters as these bees and made og designs too and it was fun. the other one was using colored pencils instead of a regular one bc i just like colors and it made me happy :] it didnt matter that they always had the same overall shape or if i couldnt erase when i messed up, i was just feeling good being able to draw something that i liked. -experiment more!! expand your palettes and download some new brushes. i even change from my newest to my old busted tablet that still sorta works occasionally because using a tool that feels different is.. refreshing somehow? idk -when you need to get yourself back up, do the little steps at your own pace. do a little doodle every day. it's okay if it's always the same thing. the same character. the exact same idea. it's okay if it sucks or if it's unfinished because you struggled. Just give it little pushes. What matters is to try. and it's okay if you can't do it every day. maybe every other day if you need a slower pace. -and remember. engagement doesn't measure your skill. art is subjective anyways!!!!! i spent YEARS doodling and posting only my ocs and getting little to no notes. i think one of my favorite artworks from the time i had ~100 followers had like 0 notes for the longest time. to be honest i don't even know if it has any likes at all nowadays i'd have to look it up bc it's a bit buried

[hardtchill]

For me it’s very similar to the other anon. I’m turning 25 this year and I’ve still not got my bachelors degree because I had to quit my first go around at uni since i physically couldn’t learn for my exams. Granted it was compounded by other issues such as depression and anxiety but i genuinely believe that a not insignificant part of those issues come from the fact that adhd makes it near impossible to organise myself (unmedicated btw).

Seeing this on my feed rn is kind of ironic since even though im in my third year of a degree that I actually enjoy now, I literally dropped out of an exam that I was supposed to write today cuz I couldn’t revise. It’s not like I didn’t have the time and I’ve known for weeks about the deadline, but with every assignment or exam I push my own boundaries further and further back until I can’t do it anymore. Last semester I crammed 84 pages worth of notes in under 48h, an exam mind you that I’d pushed back over a year and was literally my last shot or I’d not be allowed to continue with my studies. I barely slept, I was throwing up, but I somehow passed, and with a good grade at that. Since then my brain is like, well you managed to do that that one time so you can totally afford to wait until the DAY before an exam to finish it. Or write a 15 page paper in a day.

And you know what, maybe I can. But the problem is the cost. It’s killing me. I find that it’s also very isolating cuz generally people don’t have a lot of empathy for this? So I end up pulling back from everyone including my best friends until I’m at a point again where I can be around people without letting on how incredibly bad I’m doing. Or I just straight up lie so they don’t know that I’ve not done the things i said I would do.

And all this is not just within the framework of academia. It’s also impacted my wellbeing in a more general sense - cooking for myself is hard because I tend to not listen to my body’s cues until I’m on the verge of passing out cuz i forgot to eat or drink, or by the time I’m hungry I still have to make a meal so I end up ordering something cuz it’s faster. Same with showering daily or brushing your teeth. Getting any routine started in general and sticking with it. I’ve been meaning to start exercising again but I keep delaying it for no reason. I’ve worked out regularly in the past so I know it’s something that I enjoy and that makes me feel good but despite that I’m still stuck in this place of inertia? It’s awful.

I’ve talked to some friends who also have adhd about it and the inability to start something cuz it isn’t instantly gratifying or that doesn’t align with an interest but is an obligation is quite common. Can I binge 7 seasons of a reality show in a week if it really interests me? Hell yeah! (I do watch everything at 2x speed cuz everyone talks too slow lmao but still). Will i fly through a massive book and literally forego sleeping if it means getting through more of it if im really invested? Absolutely. 1500 puzzle? Massive Lego set? Yep! Taking notes from a textbook for an assignment? Literally kill me right now.

I’m sorry for this long ass message and idek if you’re gonna read all of this but yeah just wanted to share my experience. Adhd is absolutely not quirky or a superpower and I wish there was a better understanding of it out there because it makes me my own worst enemy every day.

Ugh anon i feel you so much. I have skipped on many an exam during my bachelors because i just couldn't concentrate, focus or start revision. It's completely miserable to literally see the time go by where you feel the stress but you just cannot get your brain to start on what you need to do.

Any time i told teachers and now colleagues that i work well with deadlines i get told i'm not motivated enough because if i was i wouldn't need deadlines. That's just so unfair! My brain is graving dopamine, it's not laziness that my brain does this, it's literally just ADHD.

This is the same reason why your brain (usually) jumps into action when that crippling anxiety hits, because you're so close to a deadline that your brain can smell the dopamine.

The only reason that i finished my 6 month thesis is because i had many mini deadlines during those 6 months. I felt the anxiety to finish a part of it every month and i had a teacher who was very nice and gave you compliments when you did (DOPAMINE). If i didn't have that i would still be writing my thesis now.

ADHD is so misunderstood by so many people. It affects every part of your life and the negative consequences are so much bigger and impactful than the potential positive outcomes. I mean yeah i'm creative and can think fast, awesome but that doesn't make up for the anxiety, stress and grief you go through anytime your brain just doesn't want to start something.

[deusexmachinawitch]

Day 7 of mysterious subliminals

I thought it was going to be uneventful but it has been a small wild ride.

Today I had a small terrifying breakdown inside my head. I was about to spiral because of SP (in my defense, I think it’s because I feel physically exhausted from bad sleep and it was one of “Am I a failure or I just need some sleep?” moment), but suddenly it was like some weird stuff happening like that time I manifested all of my close friends in one place even tho no one knew each other and that I was struggling

I was hanging out with one friend because he suddenly asked me out and I thought that something happened to him (he’s trans and disabled so he struggles a lot), but he told me he wanted to hang out with me to just tell me how much he appreciated me and loved me. He suddenly felt compelled to just hang out with me and tell me that because I work hard and knows that many people at my job don’t even tell me. So we had a nice afternoon.

Then at night, my friends who are a couple came to see me and told me that they made dinner for me because they knew how hard I was working and that I keep taking care of people even if I don’t talk about myself, so they want to show their appreciation with acts because they didn’t know what do I need. I kept getting thanked for my kindness and that they knew that because of my experiences in life, I’m the type to just not talk about my struggles. I never thought I’d like raw celery with hummus but it was tasty.

The thing is, I was really not feeling okay and even had the intrusive thought about “Am I really that disposable?” but suddenly everyone kept coming out of nowhere to tell me how much they loved me and grateful they were for me. And that made me think “Why am I worrying about SP? If this many people keep telling me how much they love me and even my Mom loves me now, he’s the one that’s blind… I’m really hardworking, beautiful, loving and wonderful. He really doesn’t deserve me, I don’t want his ass if he’s not in pair with me” and I felt better.

When I came home, I also had Chinese food and a note that said “So you don’t do anything tomorrow except resting” and also more friends said that they wanted to invite me to eat out this week and some even want to join my exercise routine because they said they felt inspired by my effort and they shouldn’t slack off (context: I’m chronically ill but I don’t want to give up on my health and desired appearance so I exercise every day even if I’m bedridden). They also said that they don’t want me to be lonely in my path to become better.

Everyone told me today that they already thought I was kind and inspiring, but they saw me push through so hard even with several bad news and constantly seeing my improvement no matter the circumstances that they want to help me with whatever goals I want.

So I guess that I manifested having a reason to persist when I was about to have a breakdown and see my true worth and that I AM really the prize, the treasure and the catch. I am really loving my life right now and SP should work a lot to improve to be part of it.

[purlturtle]

🍓🦷

Thank you for asking! (list of questions)

🍓 ⇢ how did you get into writing fanfiction? 

Hah! Long story, I'll try to keep it short.

So I was never really *in* fandom, as a kid, teenager, adult - I knew that FedCon existed, as a German convention for Star Trek fans, and I knew there had been a letter-writing campaign for Star Trek in the 60s, but beyond that, fandom was just not on my radar, much less something I shared with others. I did not know that there was such a thing as fan fiction, either! 😱😅

I don't even remember how I learned about fan fiction, but I can tell you that I was in my thirties, because it happened after a breakup - I was deeply hurt, and found a lovely escape in marathoning Voyager. And for the first time in my life, I felt the urge to write something; a self-insert for Voyager, as it turned out. I joined AO3 in 2012, through the invitation queue because I didn't know a single person who was on AO3 and could send me an invite code. I started posting my fic there, and got lovely comments, and that repeated itself when I started posting Warehouse fic, but I still didn't really feel like I was part of fandom; the interaction I got there was such a small thing.

But yeah, back to fan fic: the impulse to write came because of escapism and a massive crush on Kathryn Janeway and my huge urge to write a self-insert that would put me on Voyager. The last piece of the puzzle happened when I read an official Voyager novel and found it so... well, not bad, but mediocre? that I remember to this day thinking "I can write better than that." Even as a non-native speaker, even as someone who hadn't really written a lot before. The amazement that someone had written this and got it published and got PAID for it, that was the last push I needed to write down my story myself.

🦷 ⇢ share some personal wisdom or a life hack you swear on

Oh wow! Deep question! I think the one thing that has always been my biggest help is the fact that I am on my own side. 100%. I might be miffed with myself at times, but I always know where that shit comes from, and I'd never put myself down. I've also seen this described as radical (self-)acceptance, and in effect in means that while the world might be shit, and life might be hard, at least I don't have to deal with being my own harshest critic, or constantly being dissatisfied with myself, or worse. I am in my corner. I *like* myself.

Star Trek has helped a lot with that; in two ways, both coming from awesome female characters: Deanna Troi telling her mom "I'll never be lonely; I'll always have myself," and Beverly Crusher telling herself "If there's nothing wrong with me, maybe there's something wrong with the universe." Those sentences and mindsets have stuck with me, and have given me a lot of self-confidence and self-worth.

The third bit of wisdom I gained from an Elder Lesbian, with whom I shared a hospital room after my very first ever heartbreak gave me gastritis: "If they don't want you, they don't deserve you." As in, don't fight to keep someone in your life who makes it clear they don't care about you. Let them go and good riddance. Including any sunk cost (see: Sunk Cost Fallacy) you have already put into that relationship. If they don't want you, they don't deserve you. Seek out those who *do* want you - and in the meantime, just like Deanna Troi, know that you'll always have yourself.

That was fun! I hope it is interesting to read too!

[ccborrega]

Listen I will not apologize for loving TP so much, I was like 14 when it came out and I literally dreamed about getting it since I first saw a poster of it in like 2004 Game Planet in Plaza Loreto like 200 meters from the same hospital I was born in. I was THIS CLOSE to skipping a choral event to get home and play it right away when I finally got it and when I finally did get home it was already past midnight so my dad would only let me watch the intro for the time being. The way I CRIED legit tears at the majesty of that opening. I spent like a week playing it near-non-stop because it was christmas break, my mom and sisters had left for mom's hometown and my dad left for work for most of the day so I could literally act like a gremlin without any judgment on anyone's part (Except my dog) and I only stopped to get snacks/cook me or microwave me some proper food, drink water, go to the bathroom or sleep. The amount of times this game made me cry, even Breath of the Wild didn't quite reach the number. I have loved TP Zelda with my whole heart since I first saw her, I was so distraught when she does the life-force transfer thinguie with Midna that it was the only day I stopped playing early since I'd cried myself into a headache. When my mom and sisters did come back, I had to say I hadn't gotten all that far and reset my game file because my sisters got mad that I got to play first and they would have been furious had they known I'd finished, so I got to play through it twice back-to-back (Which is also why a lot of it I remember so clearly. Even Wind Waker or Four Swords that I'm certain I've replayed more times than this I can't remember as clearly.) The huge cast filled to the brim with all sorts of creatures and characters, the way the mission is not so much to defeat evil but to help the different tribes and groups unite and become community, to save the Kingdom by saving it's people. The way my heart soared the first time I got to ride Epona through Hyrule Field and listen to the Ballad of Twilight segment of the music for the first time. The Hero's Shade! Back then we didn't have the 'Canon confirmation' that this was OOT Link but as a kid who grew up with OoT and MM how could I NOT join the dots and KNOW that was him? How could I not feel deeply touched and devastated to see him trapped as a lost soul?! The way the world felt HUGE running through it and finding secret spots here and there, and it felt real because all sorts of people- people with bad sides and good sides, people who were afraid but found courage with a little push, people who were as passionate about helping others as Link himself. Midna's ultimate arc being about realizing that caring is hard and it's painful and it makes you vulnerable, but it's WORTH IT.

Zelda games with like, improved mechanics or bigger maps or whatnot have come and gone after that, but to me nothing beats TP and probably never will.

[benjaminalphabet]

i feel so inhuman lately. so objectified, and i wonder if it’s my fault.

i’m so sick of playing games with men who just don’t give a fuck about me. i’m so sick of being commodified, of being sexualized, of being on other people’s rosters. goddamn, it hurts me. no one ever looks below the surface. i just want to go home, i just want to be cared about. i feel like no one has ever looked at me and seen anything other than something that they can fuck. and god, everyone tries, and i let them because i can’t go home alone. i let them because i hate sleeping by myself. i let them because it gets so cold in my bedroom, and in my head. but my body is a barren wasteland, and i feel so empty. and god, i just want someone to see me as a real person.

i don’t want to wear lingerie anymore. i don’t want to be trapped inside this body that no one can see through. i don’t want to be one of your hoes. i don’t want you to call me when your other plans don’t work out. i don’t want to give you my number. i don’t even want to be the manic pixie dream girl that teaches you how to love again after someone else destroyed your heart. oh, brave wounded soldier let me kiss it all better! fuck this!

i’m so tired of thinking people are so interesting, so smart, so funny, so whatever - only for them to look at me and think that i’m so sexy. or they like how i look in that color, in that lighting,… i am real! i am so much more than miscellaneous body parts. i hate this body! i have worked so hard to disconnect from this body and still, it’s all you can see. i am standing in front of you with my heart in my hands! and i’m not going to give it to you, and you’re not going to reach out and grab it. i am standing in front of you with prose behind my eyes, and all you can see is my tits.

that is so heinous, so ugly. men are so evil. i am so much more than this body i didn’t ask for.

i feel so exhausted with the unavailability of it all. when did we decide it was better to lock all our feelings up in cages, fuck anything that walks, and tell no one we love them? how is it better this way? and i’m so tired of going to bars, and i’m so tired of men asking me if i know this or that band while they come up with ways to sneak into my pants. it’s so empty!! i feel so alone.

the worst part is how complicit i have become in all of it. i do nothing to stop it. i do nothing to try to prove my worth, i adamantly refuse to campaign for myself. i will not waste my breath trying to convince someone who just wants a doll that i am real. i wish so badly i could just be okay with it. i wish so badly that all i wanted was to be a sex symbol, was to be touched. but i’m so nonchalant you would never know how bad it hurts, or how pushed aside i feel. and if my facade cracks, i’ll just tank the whole thing. i’ll just tell myself you never wanted me enough times until i convince myself that i never wanted you either.

i don’t understand how my friends seem so okay with it. i don’t understand how my beautiful, loving, complicated and multifaceted friends can seem so unbothered by being so unnoticed. never forming connections, never getting used to anyone, never asking questions if the answers mean anything at all. how is this better? i go out with my friends and watch them take home men that will never give a shit about anything about them, and i do the same thing and we pretend it’s so fun? we get drunk, and we dance and smile all night, and no one ever admits to how violent this routine really is. every single morning i wake up feeling so sick with myself. how do i keep letting these people touch me? is it worse than isolation? is it healthy? is that possible? have i really fallen so out of touch with my own sense of worth that this is what i’m fucking doing? i’m fucking nauseous.

it is so easy to have sex. it is so easy to pretend that’s all you want. men love a machine. men love when you can make them laugh, and then shut the fuck up, and swallow it all. your words, your feelings, your moral compass, and anything else they can get in your mouth. men love when you love to be left. i do not love to be left! i do not love to be left!

please please please treat me like i’m real.

please please please treat me like i am more than a body.

[faith--in-the-future]

Industry people voted for Harry to win AOTY, 18,000 industry people vote for that award every year. Whether they think he’s manufactured or not is irrelevant because they’re clearly buying what he’s selling so who really cares? I’m sorry but I’m tired of the self soothing “oh but he’s manufactured and people know it” like… let’s not lie to ourselves to feel better. It’s easy to fall in the trap of thinking that karma is actually real and things will rectify themselves eventually, that we just need a little patience because surely this terrible person is falling out of favor, and people are seeing through them, and their imminent fall from grace is inevitable.

In my experience, that’s self soothing BS. Undeserving people have stepped on my back to get job positions I wanted and needed. My friends would go “oh but I bet your boss will see it if you work hard enough” or “eventually the true face of this person will show” and years go by and things don’t “fix themselves”, karma doesn’t strike, justice isn’t made.

The same thing happens in the music industry, probably ten times worse. As someone who’s been observing the industry for a while, Harry has managed to reach an echelon that very few people have reached in history. I’m talking, Justin freaking Timberlake never won AOTY. 49 artists have won that award since the Grammys were created. Of today’s musical landscape, of artists that routinely chart and are popular, the only ones to ever win it are Billie Eilish, Bruno Mars, Adele, Taylor Swift, and Harry Styles. You can add Kacey Musgraves to that list if you feel so inclined (I don’t, she’s not actually mainstream imo). That is an INSANE lineup to be a part of, and the day I found out he’d won it (the day after the Grammys because I refused to stay up just to get pissed off), was when I realized he’d won.

He just won and people are running in circles trying to come up with excuses as to why, actually, he can still lose. This is what he wanted and he got it, to a degree that I don’t even know he himself imagined (and people can spare me the discourse about his team buying Grammys because you can buy nominations but not awards, and definitely not AOTY, there’s a reason so few people have won it). Sure, we all know everything he lost in the process, but I’m willing to bet he doesn’t care and it’s all worth it for him.

There’s no degree of “the industry knows” or “fans will drop him.” The industry embraced him and he has fans in a chokehold, as much as it makes me want to break things. I let myself be fooled by the reception of his award on twitter, and then I came across a post about it on Facebook. People were outraged… that Twitter was mad. I kid you not. He pops up in my for you page on tik tok all the time no matter how many times I pick “not interested”. The amount of videos defending him and outraged about the person shouting during his acceptance speech. The amount of comments saying that Beyoncé was overrated (freaking BEYONCÉ. Overrated!!!????), that he deserved the win (!!!). The comments on YouTube and even in articles defending him. I truly truly gave up at that point. This poor excuse of a man could kick puppies as a hobby and they’d still be lodged up his ass.

bestie trust me when I tell u that I know all this 😭 I understand you probably just wanted to let your frustration out and I'm glad u did but like I 100% agree unfortunately lol I've always been the most pessimistic when it came to that man, and when I said industry people think he's manufactured I mean they probably know but also why should they care lol the entire music industry is a big manufactured mess built up by horrible men so they will support each other no matter what

and I do agree karma doesn't exist lol Good people are always pushed out by oppressive systems bc otherwise those systems wouldn't work anymore (that's why there are no good politicians and no good cops) and if we're talking about universal karma then good people always die and bad people live to their 90s rip

If u ask any of my friends here like @weareonejazzhand she can tell u I've been saying that we'll never get rid of that man now and we'll still be bombarded with his stupid biopic in 2050 and by then he'll have rewritten history completely lol

money always wins