#im really fuckin tired

[loserchildhotpants]

October is a minefield of triggers for me, so I generally float through it, derealized and violently numb, with random lightning strikes of paralyzing anxiety, and that's just... normal. For me. I don't expect anything less.

I didn't hear from any of my family on my anniversary. It was a big one - Nathan and I have been married for a decade now. I was strong-armed into a wedding, I didn't want one, I wasn't comfortable performing socially like that at 19 for people I barely spoke to, that barely knew me, but my mother steamrolled past me like she always does, and I hate memories of my wedding.

I hope to have a re-do sometime, if/when there's ever expendable income again.

Anyway, I wasn't even taking it that hard. My sister sent a gift a few days beforehand, my MIL called the day of, and that was the extent of what I heard from relatives/loved ones.

Then my Aunt texts me a few days after the anniversary w lots of photos of my cousin proposing to his gf and the blow out engagement party they're throwing right now - pictures of the dessert table with homemade, personalized goodies, and balloons, and all sorts of feel-good, celebratory stuff.

It's a group chat, so it's actually my sister that mentions to my Aunt that my 10 wedding anniversary just passed - I could feel my sister's frustration. I was belatedly congratulated, and then the acknowledgment of my impending birthday was brought up, and I explained I'll be turning 30 - this also came as a shock, and that Nathan and I just bought our first home 2 months ago also comes as a shock.

Whatever. My Aunt couldn't have known that any of that would be hurtful, and it's not her fault that my parents are just absent and deeply ambivalent about me.

The next day, I wake up to texts from both my parents (neither of which speak to me at all, really, so it's always jarring to see a notification from one or the other, nevermind both at the same time), and my mother is telling me to call her, and my father is demanding to know about my moving, demanding my new address.

With my father, I could tell he was embarrassed, and so probably angry. I brought up the fact that he'd spoken to me two or three times in the months before I moved, wherein I told him about the home buying process, and around what time we'd be moving -- we were in contact because he needed me to sign stuff for his last will and testament.

He knew I was moving, he knew I was buying my first home, he just didn't care enough to remember, and then is angry with me that his sister is like 'why didn't you mention Melanie bought a house??' and got caught not giving a shit. I sent him my new address, and he deigned to finally passive aggressively reply to me with a 'thanks for the update' the following day.

As for my mother, she was calling to ask how old I was turning. She flew right past my missed anniversary - again, which was HER making - and I wouldn't be mad, I really wouldn't, if it had been MY wedding. It wasn't, though - it was HER fun party, and it's pretty fucking insulting to have even her forget about it. She has a lukewarm reaction of surprise to my being married a decade, gives a half-assed 'congrats' and then asks about my birthday.

As is typical for her, she has nothing kind to say about me, nothing about being proud or interested in my plans or anything, just wants to know if she can send money for a dinner and spent 10 minutes complaining about how this makes her so old.

When she asked how she was supposed to remember my wedding anniversary, I brought up that she was the one that planned it and set the date ? That didn't evoke anything, and when I told her the date, thinking she'd put it in her calendar or something, she was like, 'oh, that's the same day as [my renter's] birthday! It'll be easy to remember now!'

And I almost just... hung up. Astonishing to me, truly, that that's where I'm at on her scale of significance.

To be honest, I don't want attention from my parents on my birthday. In fact, I really wish they'd be consistent for fucking ONCE in my life and just fuck off for all of October the way they do for every other month of my life.

They don't talk to me, they don't provide anything, they're critical, judgmental, and mean, and I limit my contact with them so that I don't drive myself to further illness.

I just wish they'd stay away. I prefer the silence. They don't care and I know they don't, and I don't have to see and hear about how much they don't care, until it's October, arguably the hardest time of year for me, and then they have to find ways to jumpscare me and complain about how my existence is somehow inconvenient for them.

Like, I know. You've let me know my entire life how inconvenient I am for you. That's why we don't talk. Can you fuck off again now? Why are you here??

It feels like being bombarded with extended family information and then immediate family interactions shoved me from 'gently dissociative,' to 'violently derealized,' and I've never been able to pull myself out of derealization.

So nothing is real, and nothing matters, and neither do I, and I'm turning 30 on Monday, but that's not real, and talking is so much effort -- making words is so much effort, and they don't matter, the noise isn't even real, I'm just shoving air into difficult shapes when I could be sitting in silence and decomposing much more peacefully.

There isn't a point to this, really. I don't feel anything. I mean, I feel things, but like, several degrees away from myself.

I really want to be happy, and to feel happy, not just to objectively understand I'm experiencing happiness, but to feel it. And that's... I dunno. A mountain on the horizon that gets smaller in the distance the more I hike towards it.

It's really difficult to see my Aunt being a Mom for her kids, being present and happy for them, doing stuff that makes them happy, being involved -- it's hard to watch anyone else experience maternal and/or paternal warmth and pride that I'm constantly denied.

It's really hard to have both my living parents effectively orphan me because I am at once too much and too little.

I lie awake at night going 'what's so wrong with me? What'd I do wrong?' -- I'm turning 30, and I'm still up at night, going 'why doesn't my dad like me? Why does my mom make me feel badly about myself on purpose? How can I change to make them proud? To make them love me?'

And the answer is that I can't do anything, they won't change, nothing I ever do is going to be good enough, they're both self-obsessed, emotionally immature people with varying degrees of personality disorders they refuse to acknowledge, much less work on, and academically understanding that does not, in fact, silence the lonely, crying child inside me.

[wow-sofa-art]

Happy pride month.

(reference under read more)

[lovelyrotter]

ill probably delete this in a minute but ive just been fuckin boggled by what ive seen across tumblr in the last few days in particular. its why i havent really been around. like holy fucking shit, its really like some of yall just dont want a chunk of the trans community to exist. like some of yall are thisclose to saying it verbatum. way too many already have. 'shut up sit down be quiet and smile for us' type shit, gee where have i heard that before. oh yeah my entire life cause i was forcefully gendered as someones daughter. shock horror i know. you might be surprised to remember and/or learn that very few trans folks know theyre trans before we're 5, or even 10, and that that gendered experience stays with all of us in both/either small or large ways. either bc we literally dont have a solid identity yet (bc we're very small children), dont have the words, we're repressing it out of fear from how others will treat us, we're actually enjoying or enjoyed being another gender in our childhood, or we just genuinely didnt fuckin know until shit lined up later in life. weird isnt it that transmascs dont pop out as 6'1 brick shithouse cis men when we're born so yall know for certain that we're confused lost girls/women oops i mean big dangerous scary men. its almost like we're transgender too. none of yall actually know what intersectionality is or means

[2000-man1]

TikTok at its finest 🍷

[seraphsfire]

any other spoonies or people with fibro/chronic fatigue/myalgic encephalomyletis/adhd/etc start just *trying* to think of the steps to a complex mental task have an immediate brain shutdown and get sleepy/fatigued/feel drugg/ed and physically exhausted immediately after doing so bc i feel like im going crazy and googling/duckduckgo-ing yeilded only like, mayo clinic articles defining chronic fatigue so. lol

[deoidesign]

Thinks about my next series again... I drew the icon for it!

I'm planning to have it launched within a year! I'm hoping for summer 2025. I want to make a prelaunch page before Time and Time Again ends so people can subscribe if they're interested, but I'm worried the series return would be too early...

[spotsupstuff]

BIG damn post, but as i've said!! i (FUCKIN FINALLY) did end up fleshing out the rest of the important Iterators of the Children of EO group a little that map is a forever wip, fuck it all, i'll be just postin updated versions of it from time to time or smth

[1nt3rnalpu7ref4ct10n]

FUCKING GOD LOGAN IS SO FUCKIN DENSE, Metaphorically and literally

IN THE GODDAMN PROTEUS EPSIODES OF TAS HES SO GODDAMN SNARKY N MOUTHY AND D E N S E

STUBBORN AS HELL DEFENSIVE AS SHIT, EVEN WHEN HANK WAS DEFENDIN HIM AGAINST ROGUE ITS LIKE THE CAGE FIGHT SCENE IN THE FIRST XMEN MOVIE WHEN THE GUY SAYS "He'll just take it personally" CAUSE THATS ALMOST ALL HE'S DONE SO FAR GOOD FUCKIN GODS ABOVE IM TIRED OF THIS EMOTIONALLY UNSTABLE WEASEL (i still love him so goddamn much and want to be him and project onto him)

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

oooo it's been a while since the last snippet :]c it's another fantasy au one where I'm! Putting! Barnaby! Through It!

a minor warnings: implied/referenced major character death <3

 No one eats dinner, and Frank won’t stop tapping his spoon against his bowl. Tok tok tok it goes, over and over again.

Poppy made a simple stew from their provisions, but only Eddie and Sally make an attempt at tasting it. Their halfhearted ‘it’s good’s don’t pierce the pressure weighing down on them all. Barnaby swears he can taste it, thick and cloying. 

Already he keeps catching himself looking for Wally. Where is- he starts to think, and then he remembers the moment Wally fell with a spear piercing his chest, and the grief rises so fast it nearly drowns him in a heartbeat. Barnaby can’t bring himself to try and hide it behind anything but a stony mask. In any other situation he might try to put some levity into the group. Cheer up the sad and empty faces staring into their meals. 

He wouldn’t be able to think of a single lighthearted thing even if he wanted to. He doesn’t.

Tok tok tok-

Shuffling from Howdy’s tent has everyone glancing over at it, and Frank’s spoon stills. Howdy briefly woke up while Poppy was cooking. All he did was sit up, look at everyone, then pitch to the side and vomit. They got him into a tent before he passed out again, mumbling something about puppets. Frank made a comment about how Howdy was supposed to be a bit out of it, not at fae-drunk levels of hazy. Eddie had muttered back a dejected apology, and after that the camp was silent until Poppy’s announcement that dinner was ready. The spoon continues tapping when the shuffling stills.

Tok tok tok-

Since Eddie and Sally saying that dinner is good, there hasn’t been a noise beyond the occasional sniffle. It’s a good thing Julie isn’t trying her stew - it must be disgustingly salty from all the tears dripping into it. 

Tok tok tok-

Barnaby sighs through his nose and puts his bowl down, sick of looking at everyone’s misery. He would say that he’s going to go sleep, but he has a feeling that none of them are getting a wink tonight. 

Tok tok-

Before he can stand, Frank blurts, “We shouldn’t have attacked it. It was a mistake.”

“Please don’t,” Julie begs.

“There’s no need to rub salt in the wound,” Sally says firmly, her stew starting to sizzle from the rising heat in her hands.

“Not right now, Frank,” Eddie mutters. 

Frank visibly bristles, and he launches to his feet. “I refuse to pretend not to have seen what I did! The truth is a terrible thing, but someone needs to say it. Wally lied to us.”

“Frank…” Barnaby warns.

“We shouldn’t have attacked the demon,” Frank barrels on, ignoring him, “because there was no need to. It didn’t eat Wally until the end because the demon is his patron. Wally was never a wizard at all, he was a warlock-”

Barnaby lunges with a deep bark that echoes against the trees. The crickets symphony falls silent. Frank trips backwards over his seat, staring up with wide eyes as Barnaby stalks around the fire, growling. Eddie and Sally slowly stand, inching between him and Frank. 

Barnaby stops, snout bunched and canines bared. He jabs a claw at Frank. “Don’t you ever say that again. Ever.”

Frank’s mouth flaps uselessly for a moment. When he speaks, it comes out as a whisper, “I’m-”

“If you end that with right instead of sorry, I’ll make damn sure that you are.”

Frank wisely keeps his mouth shut. The crickets continue chirping.

Barnaby glares at him until Frank looks away. Barnaby straightens his vest with a sharp tug and strides away from the fire, towards his and- his tent. Just his, now. Murmuring breaks out at his back. He yanks the flap open, grabs his pipe and herb pouch, and heads towards the forest. He pauses only to listen by Howdy’s tent, waiting to hear proof of life before continuing on.

Once he can’t see the firelight anymore, Barnaby chooses a random tree and sits heavily in front of it. Rough bark digs into his back through his vest. A night bird hoots overhead. Crickets continue to make their music, but Barnaby wishes they would shut up for good. 

Light from the full moon pours through the branches to provide just enough light to see by. Barnaby holds up his pipe and quickly puts it to the side to take off a grimy glove. The heart-pad and blue fur underneath contrasts vibrantly with the dust-grayed rest of him. After a moment he removes the other glove, wincing as the leather drags over his injured knuckles. He turns his paw over and scowls at the dirty black edges of the red-raw scrapes. He should have punched harder. He hopes it scars, even though he knows it won’t.

The gloves themselves are scuffed up, but not beyond use. Barnaby folds them into his pocket and gets to work lighting his pipe. He packs it and instinctively opens his mouth to ask Wally to light it for him. The words die on his tongue as he turns only to see dark forest. Empty woods save for the tiny blue lights of night wisps floating on the breeze. 

Barnaby stares into the darkness with yawning dread. He keeps looking. How long will it take him to stop? How long until Wally’s face starts to smudge in his memories, until his voice is gone and Barnaby doesn’t even remember what his smile looked like? How long until Barnaby only thinks of him in passing? 

He doesn’t want to reach that point. He desperately does. 

Will it hurt more or less? Does it matter? He wants it to ache until he dies.

Barnaby frantically fishes his sparkrune out of the herb pouch - only there for emergencies, when Wally or Sally isn’t there to light it for him. It will wear down to a nub within the month. He strikes his thumb claw against it, and sparks fly expertly into the bowl of his pipe. It takes a moment to catch. Barnaby lifts the bit to his lips and takes a drag before enough smoke forms for a lungful. 

Maybe he should have grabbed the stronger stuff. If he breathes enough of it, maybe he’d be able to see Wally. 

But Barnaby doesn’t get up in the end. He sits against the base of a tree and hugs himself, the pipe’s intermittent glow betraying the shine in his eyes.

[jade-of-mourning]

"what a shitbagning brotherband" - erak starfucker 645 C.E.

and i was like oh yeah, i've gotta focus on my schoolwork, i'm not gonna procrastinate anymore, and i put this dumb shit off for all of two(?) mildly miserable days and oh fuck i have a test tomorrow. im coping shut up

i based this off of this lovely fabulous insanely Tasty art from this super cool brotherband instagram-er that i stumbled upon so the words are mixed from flonkerton and the op. all credit to op i literally had that tab open staring at it trying to suck their artistic talent into my soul.

i did a lydia atlatl doodle to make up for this i miss her

don't question what ulf and wulf are doing in the background i geniunely don't know and i cant'd raw people interacting???? why are they the only part of this drawing i actually despise but was too lazy to redraw &lt;;/3

sorry bout the incredibly low quality here's full res

oh also here's the atlatl lydia doodle i might clean it up and post it later idk

i've become such a tumblr artist courtesy of these mad brainrots that i don't think i can draw anything properly ever again uh

also sorry to those rotting in my inbox i love you guys and it's on the way i swear after i finish this test and that lit book and that other test and ah fuck seven assignments and textbook chapter and uh </3

[snazum]

Little ster edit I made… Cause there needs to be more in the world :>

special thanks to like the 5-10 people on this website who upload ster clips. This is dedicated to y’all <3

Audio: noir.audioss on tiktok

Song: Like Me - Chase Icon

[vilelittlecritter]

Ha ha I don't know what I want to do with my life and I feel unsatisfied with my current condition!

[thingsmysplattershotjrtoldme]

Splatoon Twitter and Nintendo NA YouTube - *releases new songs from OTH for Splatfest*

Me - OH hell yeah! These bop!

Twitter comments on Color Pulse '24 -

[gaytoddhoward]

they should invent a period that doesnt make me the most miserable person on earth

[mossy-green-aka-ferrythem]

At this rate I doubt boycotting Project Moon can do that much. Limbus Company, maybe not playing that could change things, but really, Project Moon has heard the feedback, KJH is gonna have to face the music.

I think my message I would have here is, don’t feel aggressive and excessive shame for loving what Project Moon has built even now. It’s important to find comfort in art. Considering the entire situation, we could all use powerful art. Besides, somethings got to give. Things already may be giving and we wouldn’t know. Do what you may, play, don’t play, I doubt it matters. Someday Kim Ji-Hoon is going to have to make some major decisions, and that day is fast approaching.

Sorry if this post is a bit rambly and incoherent, I made this past 2:00am. But hey, it’s what I think for what it’s worth! Don’t get too caught up in moralizations in this situation is what I want to say I suppose.

[spotsupstuff]

new experience gained: lookin after a toddler

conclusion: Boreas had been blessed by that distance between him and the younger Anemoi actually, cuz if he had to actually put his hands to work with babycare he wouldn't have the energy left to be genocidal