#ill dress modestly and stop being so angry all the time

[nikolaibelinski]

me laying out my logical points to God for my dad waking up and living thru hospice care

[wordsandlyricsandpicturesohmy]

After so long I thought that the feeling had gone away, that the idea of self-harm as a means to make myself feel again or as a means of making all the overwhelming feelings dissipate had become nothing more than just an old method I had used when I didn’t have the right outlet. Yet here I am, in my lowest, darkest moment in a long time immediate turning to it when everything became too much. And it wasn’t just the idea of performing self-harm that made me break, it was the fact that I had thought about and sought out my medications to try and kill myself, as I knew deep down that simply adding a few more scars to the hundreds that cover my thighs and arms wouldn’t be enough this time, as the feelings I was being overwhelmed by would just come back as soon as the moment was over.

Little issues build up quickly when you simply brush them off and don’t think about them. Little problems at work that you choose to keep quiet over, slight hiccups with friends that you hold your breath over. Small issues with family members that you pass off as simply normal feelings that come with your relatives. These have all built up over time for me, as I somewhere along the way decided that the best way for me to get better was to change myself, that the only way to truly move on from everything that has happened to me would be made easier by simply becoming a new person entirely. A person who likes to socialise, someone who steps out of their comfort zone regularly, who likes to go out and drink.

But the weight of all these choices has come crashing down, and it did so as soon as I face my first problem early this morning, and every little issue and surprise just made it that much worse and that much more overwhelming.

I tried to be different, but that just isn’t in the cards for me. I don’t drink, I don’t like the memories that come with it that I more than often have to push to the side. I hate socialising with people while I am trying to work and study. I don’t like to message people often as I like my alone time to just be my alone time. I hate drugs, I have seen enough and heard enough stories from my parents and the overdoses that they’ve seen and the aftermath of their ill-fated choices to know that no good could ever come from them.

I am done pretending, I am done changing myself so that I may feel some kind of acceptance from the people who I have surrounded myself with.

I am done being ashamed of who I am and the past I have had to endure.

I am done pushing things down and pretending that little things are easy for me to deal with and that the mediocrity of everyday like isn’t completely overwhelming to me and my senses.

 So who am I?

I am the voice behind every single one of these letters, poems and notes.

I could just be another faceless person who sits in front of a computer screen.

But I have never properly introduced myself, my issues and my demons. I have simply mentioned them in fleeting, and very rarely put my voice to them when people ask me about my fears and problems.

My name is Emily, a 21 year old who, like everyone our age is struggling with figuring out who they are and where they are going.

I am someone who suffers from depression and social anxiety.

I am also someone who has been sexually assaulted 3 years ago.

 For a year and a half I spent my life pretending that nothing had ever happened to me, I went through a short phase of being upset and angry, but I pushed past it quickly, throwing myself back into my school life and social circles. I tried dating people, all the while ignoring that sick feeling in my stomach that I now know is the feeling of mistrust. I tried hanging out with friends while ignoring that small voice in my head that would tell me that they would all do the same thing to me when given the chance. I studied my ass off while trying to pretended that I hadn’t screwed myself over and would never get the marks necessary to graduate and get into the course I wanted to.

I did this for the last half of year 12 and almost my whole first year of university. And then I met someone who I hadn’t seen in that year and a half, and their apology sent me spiralling. The next thing I knew I am sitting at my desk before work balling my eyes out while trying to figure out what was wrong with me. I spent countless hours over the following 2 weeks in and out of the doctors trying to find which medication would work best for me and trying to find a professional who I could open up to. I was made to take time off work and spend my days lying in bed because I felt no need to get up. I spent my days sleeping because I didn’t have the energy to get out of bed.

When I was driven to my first appointment with Margaret I was sceptical, why was I meant to all of a sudden open up to this stranger when I couldn’t even open up to my family. How was I meant to talk about my feelings when I felt like I had none at the time. I was sent to see a psychiatrist and given script after script of anti-depressants, sleeping tablets and an epileptic medication. Because regardless of my expressed fears of being given large numbers of scripts and being given the ability to potentially horde my medications, my doctor decided that the best way to help me was drugs, and then drugs for the side effects, and then drugs for the nightmares. Soon my life revolved around set times for medications and doctor visits.

All the while I never had to speak about what had happened, I just had to deal with the fact that I simply no longer had the capacity to process and deal with more than one emotion at a time. Because when I was happy I felt suspicious because with happiness comes joy, and pride. And I felt like these feelings were false and only due to the high doses I had been taking and would just ignore them. When I felt sad I was often plagued with anger, disgust, fear and self-loathing. These emotions would drive me to the point of tears, I would have moments where I felt like I couldn’t breathe. So I shut them all out, and let this little bit of pressure slowly grow in the back of my head. And as I would quickly come to discover, the numbness I would feel and the pressure in my head that would build until that was all I could notice would only be released if I hurt myself. A quick reminder that I can feel before I would shut down again.

I started small, punching a pillow, and then my desk, and then any hard surface I could find. But bruises on my hand made it hard for me to work without customers asking questions, so I moved onto punching my legs, letting them become black and blue from the times I would spend just sitting there hitting them, over and over again until I would realise that I had been doing it for a long time. But just as quickly as I started I stopped and moved onto something else; cutting myself. Running a pair of scissors or a knife along my forearms and thighs, watching the blood droplets form before solidifying. Knowing that they would hurt for a while, and itch while they were healing.

I had found an outlet that I did not tire of, but it left me with marks that I would soon view with disgust, and then sadness, and then they would be so overwhelming that I would hurt myself again just to stop it from overwhelming me. I bear these scars and do my best to cover them, I always wear jeans or dresses that won’t show them, I always have a jacket or long sleeve shirt on. I avoid going out when its cold as that when they turn pink and they feel like flashing neon lights. I began to fear if people would see them and immediately judge me, assume that I did it for attention. I quickly resigned to staying at home, where my mother would see them and not say a word, where my father was never around me long enough to notice them, where my brothers and sister were all either simply too young to understand or old enough that they didn’t want to be around their “weird and sick” sister because they thought that it might brush off on them.

I did all of this for months on end. Because I still never had to reflect on what had happened, I began to admit that something was wrong, but I never had to talk about the subject of my assault. Purely because I hated the term assault. If you tell someone that you’ve been assaulted there are so many different types of assault that come under that umbrella, and people never know whether or not to assume the most or least extreme scenario. So I would simply tell them that something had happened, and no I didn’t want to talk about it. Because almost everyone I told would look at me with pity and give me their half-assed apologies and ask if I was ok; or they would judge me and make the stereotypical comments of “she was asking for it” “Well you should have dressed more modestly/appropriately”.

Well fuck you then.

Those people had no idea what happened or how their words affected me. I very quickly got sick and tired of people asking me if I was ok, because no one wants to know the real answer, they simply want to say that they asked in order to make themselves feel better. People say they are sorry because they have no idea what to say and don’t want to ask questions. I began to feel sick to my stomach when people would look at me with pity in their eyes and give me a small pout. I began to hate socialising even more, and hated even uttering a single word about what happened.

But that’s the question you have now, isn’t it? You know that I have been assaulted, and if you are good with your math skills you would have figured out that I was a little over 18 when it happened.

Well, I don’t really know how to tell you if I’m honest. For how much detail is too much? If I simply said that a group of people thought it would be a funny way of payback would that answer your question or leave you with more? What if I told you that I had never had sex before that night and that I had never had a partner before that moment? Would you be curious or would you begin to feel sorry for me and send me messages of sympathy?

Well, without too much detail to bore you, but enough to give you an idea as to how it managed to fuck me up so badly; I was invited to a girls house around the corner from mine. I had known her for about 12 years, we knew each other like the back of our hands. So when she had heard of a rumour that I had slept with one of her boyfriend’s when they were going out she decided that she should get even with me, regardless of the act that I was never one for such things. She got her dad as well as a bunch of her friends to spike my drinks with alcohol and give it to me without knowing, getting me drunk to the point that I couldn’t move. The best way to describe it is my arms and legs felt like they were jelly while also feeling like they were so heavy that they were made with iron. A guy I didn’t know entered the room. The rest of it I’m sure I don’t need to go into detail for you.

I lost my trust in a lot of people after that moment. I found myself uncomfortable around every man I ever met. People coming up behind me gave me panic attacks, and still often makes me shudder involuntarily. I can’t stand the thought let alone the act of anyone touching my neck and it immediately reminds me of his hands wrapped around it as a means to scare me and keep me quiet. The idea of having sex became something utterly repulsive because my first experience was so scaring, so how could anyone find the act enjoyable?

I have begun to overcome these issues overtime, but they all still remain in some shape or form.

And up until this point, they have been the only part of me that has always stayed the same since that moment.

And I am tired of having only my experience being the only thing that has connected me with my old self, I am tired of changing who I am and what I do in order to fit in with the people around me who will never change.

Yes I can be loud and overbearing at times, and if there is a subject I am passionate about then there is a good chance I won’t know when to shut up. But I also love being alone, I love the idea of walking around by myself with my earphones in blasting music anytime and anywhere. I love having moments of childish fun, but I also enjoy being an adult, going out and having a coffee or visiting an exhibit.

I hate being in large groups, I find myself very uncomfortable. Loud places scare me and I try to avoid them, and if there is a group of young people hanging out and laughing then I will immediately try to excuse myself. I hate going out just for the sake of drinking to get drunk, I don’t mind a drink or two, but you will often find me chasing them down with several glasses of water to try and avoid getting drunk. I try not to be alone with men, as I don’t want to begin to feel uncomfortable around them. I can’t stand jokes about rape and suicide. Because I’ve experience one and attempted the other twice, and it was not funny either times so if you don’t shut your mouth then believe me you don’t want to see me do it for you.

 I think I’ll take a little moment to distance myself and try to at least be me, or at least, become somewhat similar to the me that I was in high school. So that means no regular updates about what I am doing. No steady stream of messages to hang out every second day. Because that’s not me. I tried to be that person, and I couldn’t do it.

Honestly, it’s killed me a bit,

And if I’m being brutally honest,

It’s lead me to those moments when I’ve almost let it kill me.

[fantroll-purgatory]

I think I might have submitted this troll a really long time ago, so this is a re-do I suppose.

Alternia or Beforus or some type of AU?

Alternia

Name (preferably include how you came up with it and why): Hemati Aurata or Hemati Grotei

‘Hemati’ comes from hematite, the reddish-blackish main ore of iron that’s known for having a rusty red streak. This is in reference to both his blood color (rust) as well as his interesting in blacksmithing and sculpting out of iron.

‘Aurata’ is the species name of a moth of the genus Pyrausta. ‘Grotei’ is another species, I wasn’t sure which one would fit better. Slightly based off how moths are famously attracted to flames. Hemati’s lusus is a Pyrausta, which is a Greek mythical dragon that is basically a small winged insect with the head of a dragon. They die if they are taken away from fire and tie in with Hemati’s associated element of fire.

This is a really clever and suiting name! I prefer Aurata, I think, for the wing coloration of the Aurata Moth. Hemati Aurata.

Age: 8 sweeps (~17 years old)

I’m unsure exactly how old a troll is before they’re taken off-planet, but I’m assuming it’s close to human adult age (18 years). I wanted him to be slightly younger than mature age but older than the canon trolls.

We don’t know for sure, but I definitely subscribe to the headcanon that it’s around 18 or more.

Strife Specibus: pickaxekind or hammerkind

He can probably have both, since there’s a functional reason for them!

Fetch Modus: Minecraft modus? I’m unsure what sort of name to give it but it would be funny for him to have his modus match the Minecraft inventory. Maybe he could be able to “craft” things like you can in Minecraft’s inventory, bypassing the need for alchemy at the price of a limited grid to work with as well as a lot of wasted items, as the craft grid isn’t very efficient.\

Maybe Furnace Modus? Leaving items in allows them to ‘smelt’ into a more refined or better form, but doesn’t allow Direct alchemization within the menu. But you have to keep the items in until they’re finished being refined, which can take a really long time depending on the item.

Blood color: Burgundy/Rust

Symbol and meaning: Argo, the Zenith

Self explanatory. Hemati lives in a mountain/inactive volcano and his emotion often have to reach a peak before they explode out of control.

Trolltag: fabrileEbullition

This is kind of a joke about how he does his art. He is a skilled craftsman but gets angry easily and goes through fits of rage and frustration that aggravates his pyrokinesis. This often results in his metal sculptures melting through the sudden spurts of flame. Although he would personally consider the “ebullition” part to be ‘bursts of emotion’ that inspire his art, it’s more suited to his ill-temper. The name also abbreviates to FE, which is the symbol for the chemical element of iron.

Do you mean ferbrile? Or was fabrile a portmanteau of fabrication and ferbrile? Either way I like it a lot! 

Quirk: He usually speaks in a grumble in Order tO suppress His Feelings, but uses prOper punctuatiOn in Order tO remain pOlite but prOperly capitalizes tHe names Of OtHers. He capitalizes tHe f in ‘Fe’, all O’s and all H’s as tHey are used in tHe cHemical cOmpOund Of rust, wHicH empHasizes His blOOd cOlOr. !!TYPES IN ALL CAPS AND IGNoRES PUNCTUATIoN WhEN EMoTIoNAL To RANT!! !!DRoPS ThE PoLITE BULLShIT!! !!No LoNGER fEARS RUDENESS AND TRIES To DoWNPLAY hIS SPoT oN ThE hEMoSPECTRUM!!

Normal speaking = all lowercase except Fe, O, H and names capitalized, proper punctuation

Emotional speaking = !! at start and end of sentences, all caps, no other punctuation, lowercases Fe, O and H

Good, clever, and effective.

Special Abilities (if any): Aside from general telekinetics (which he isn’t great at), Hemati possesses strong pyrokinetic powers. He is not totally in touch with his powers and they tend to flare out of control depending on his emotional state. He is NOT immune to fire but can manipulate fire to avoid coming into contact with him, having something akin to a closeknit barrier separating his skin from the flames. This is done instinctively, so it allows him to not be as careful when he’s smithing, although he still wears gloves as he can’t protect himself from the heat of objects he touches.

I like that a lot. A Literal Hothead.

Lusus: A tiny Pyrausta who is constantly on fire (as described above). He is quite fond of his lusus although he is unable actually touch it. It feeds off metal so Hemati reserves some scraps for it to munch on although it sometimes indulges in his art. Hemati can hardly stay mad at the little bugger so it gets away with it. It acts kind of like a cat and spends its time napping or being a cute annoyance. It 'helps’ Hemati out by breathing fire every now and then, which is why half the things in his hive are scorched. It also can serve as a lantern when he goes mining or a portable furnace for smelting, if it doesn’t eat the metal first.

Cute… It’s especially great because of the fact that there’s a moth genus named after the Pyrausta. Does it have moth eyes, too? I love the idea of this creature… cute and helpful but mildly inconvenient.

Personality: Hot-headed but tries his best. Hemati is quick to anger but honestly is quick to get lost in any emotion and can get carried away. He’s an intense fellow and might be hard for most people to handle. His greatest passion is art and fashion, and takes great pleasure in making all sorts of gear, clothing and accessories, as well as his strange sculptures. His art isn’t exactly pretty and look like someone threw some metal bits together and then went a little crazy with a blowtorch. Despite this, he is immensely proud of his creations and doesn’t take criticism well. Maybe YOU don’t get it. His enthusiasm can be very infectious and he gets others excited easily. He might railroad them during a conversation, but is quick to talk up someone who is being overly modest. He’s also quick to point out flaws or call out bullshit, although he often has to keep this to himself to avoid being culled. 

He is a lowblood and such luxuries are not permitted for him, he often gives what he makes to his friends and keeps his hive relatively sparse, surrounding himself with the unfinished scrap. He dresses pretty modestly. His giving nature is ultimately selfish because he can’t indulge in his own creations and wants someone to appreciate them. Despite his interests, he tries to adhere to the hemospectrum the best he can. He knows that what he loves is wrong and that he will eventually be forced into a life of servitude, so he is often burdened by pessimism, frustration and self deprecation. He tries to keep his hive neat but due to his outbursts it frequently flip flops between extremely organized and terribly messy.

He was extremely close with his former moirail, a very patient but stressed out oliveblood, but he began developing flushed feelings for them which were not reciprocated. He fell HARD for them, so although their moirallegiance was highly beneficial to them both, he would rather have them be matesprits. So he broke things off with them. His tantrums were more manageable in the past with their help but he has gotten more out of control now that they split, although they do sometimes regress into pale flirting with one another. He tends to be clingy in his relationships and doesn’t really get the idea of “personal space” but cares very deeply for who he falls for. Hemati is just very selfish but also very devoted, but can easily become jealous. He is especially not fond of his ex-moirail’s red crush, a quiet ceruleanblood. He forcibly pulled them into the ashen quadrant, with his ex-moirail moderating, to keep them from staying flushed. He’s a jerk like that.

Honestly I love this level of character development. He has a lot of neat traits, and has lots of interesting character flaws that make him a very fascinating character. Someone who is liable to explode and who does not consider others as much as he should… I love his creativity and his uniqueness, too. I don’t really have anything to add here! 

Interests: Smithing, mining, smelting, salvaging, sculpting, art, fashion

His hive is located within a mountain (an inactive volcano), so he often goes mining for ore veins to fuel his craft or might dig around the suburbs for scrap metal for his artistic endeavors. He provides jewelry and outfits for his black crush, a pushy violetblood, but also made himself and his ex-moirail matching bracelets. He still wears his bracelet although his moirail stopped wearing theirs.

Ooh. So is he actually interested in fashion or is he interested in jewelry-making, because you mention that he dresses pretty simply… Is it that he’d LIKE to dress fancy but doesn’t have access to the resources he needs? Or is it that he’s interested in the creation of accessories but doesn’t care much for wearing them himself?

Title: Prince (?) of Space

I’ve struggled to figure out exactly what class Hemati fits the most, but I definitely want him to be a Space player. I considered Knight as he quite literally protects himself with space, like through his psychic barrier against fire. He also forges weapons and armor that can be used for self defense. Page was also a possibility as he has growing potential to utilize his psychic powers effectively and is currently unskilled with them. Prince is also a possibility as he creates through his destructive outbursts and has the Princely struggles of self loathing and self absorption.

Firstly, I think Space is a beautiful assignment for him because of how well it contrasts his character and how much it can teach him. Space is a lot of patience- we see this with Jade’s need to be patient on the meteor and all the waiting she’s forced to do, and Kanaya’s need for patience with the breeding of the frog, and Calliope’s need for patience in executing her plan. So it would be an aspect that would require him to work on himself and learn to appreciate the journey and not the goal, and would teach him to simmer down and pick his fights, and would require him to learn to rebuild beautiful things instead of making a mess of them out of stubbornness… 

If I were to pick a title, I might actually… pick Maid of Space? If you don’t mind breaking a canon rule. Because of his need to actively create this space for himself, to encourage this kind of movement of growth, as well as the literal creation of space he makes for himself… The inverse is Bard of Time, which would require the passive destruction of time and through time, implying his destructive nature that he needs to keep in check. 

You could probably also do Heir of Space? To imply a need for him to be capable of flexibility and change and to passively create a change in this for everyone. Inverse is Mage of Time, so he’d have to understand his own future and desire to fight… 

Land: Land of Scrap and Frogs (LoSaF)

Hemati likes to reinvent by taking discarded bits of metal (scrap) and turning it into something new. I imagine that it would be a planet covered in heaps of scrap metal, piled as high as the eye can see. It would likely be hard to traverse due to all the sharp and pointy bits. Stoking the Forge would melt the metal so that it can be reshaped into a more usable form.

Maybe Land of Debris and Frogs (LoDaF). It could still be scrapcovered, but I think putting scrap Right in the name might be a little too obvious. It could also imply some kind of destruction, like as though the planet’s endured ruin before and needs to be rebuilt, playing into his space theme. He could need to utilize the scrapped metal to build a Frog Pen where he can raise healthy baby frogs.

Dream Planet: Prospit

Dreamers are a little hard for me to understand. Hemati tries to stay true to the status quo but harbors desires that don’t exactly fit the mold. However, he doesn’t really fight for what he believes in and mostly tries to enjoy himself while he can. He tends to trust people at face value and although he tries to suppress his own feelings, he isn’t very good at it. Nor is he good at hiding his intentions.

I think this is VERY fitting for prospit, almost a picture-perfect prospit dreamer, really. Good pick!

I wish I had either art skills or spriting skills to make Hemati but I trust you guys to do him justice. I hope I was able to flesh out what kind of person he is!

You fleshed him out wonderfully! And I will try to do him justice. Here we go!:

Horns: I made them reflect his symbol. I also put the friendship bracelet on there. I know that we don’t see rusts wear anything on their horns and that horn accessories are exceedingly common, but I figure it’s such an important element to his character that it should be featured somewhere prominent and that will always be on screen. I also feel like it wouldn’t wear it on his hands- there’s too much of a risk for it to get melted or distorted by the furnace. So horn it is. 

Hair: I made it look like a really messy fire! Fun times. 

Eyes: Angry spikey eyebrows and some grumpy eyes, loosely based off Karkat’s. 

Mouth: Very frowny, with nubby rustblood teeth. 

Outfit: Really simple dark apron with his symbol on it and some steel-toed boots. The boot base was taken from fan-troll. 

Thank you for sharing him!

-CD