#like i feel like im doing things i wasnt able to before

[blackcurrant-juice]

angry that my new meds actually work

[toytulini]

man the thing about beauty standards and being ugly and being pretty and being insecure is that ultimately you do just kinda have to Decide that youre pretty. like ultimately thats how you become pretty, or hot, or sexy. you have to just Decide that you Are. you have to recognize that its made up, its arbitrary, its subjective, and that people might disagree with you about it, and as much as you are able, you need to completely and utterly disregard their opinions on your appearance, and decide that youre pretty now. and THEN.

you need to find beauty in "ugly". you need to recognize that ugly is made up, that its arbitrary, that its subjective, and you need to be able to find the beauty in it all. and this means you cant bodyshame people. you cant body shame shitty celebs or politicians. you need to base your criticisms on the substance of their character and misdeeds and unhinged horrific opinions and not give a shit about what they look like. you cant go calling people ugly for being shitty. you cant go calling people ugly for looking A Way You Dont Like.

and then if you wanna really galaxy brain this shit you start using ugly as endearment. OBVIOUSLY do not fucking call other human beings ugly. that shit is far too loaded, its just Rude. Dont call specific features of people or even characters ugly cos thats also too loaded. as a term it has baggage. but you can see the ugly in tacky, loud, garish clothing, and it can be Good. you can see the ugly in a distinctive, horrible tiny car from the 90s, and it can be good. you can see the ugly in animals that have evolved to look the way they do, without a single thought of what humans find appealing. you can see the beauty and the freedom in "Ugliness". you can break out of this shit altogether and feel nothing but disdain for anyone who stoops to insulting your appearance if they disagree with you about shit. you can get completely out of the cave of these beauty standards. you can find it so freeing to revel.in letting yourself be ugly. in recognizing that the way you look and exist might be ugly to some people, and youre out of the cave enough to simply recognize. thats just your opinion and it doesnt matter. didnt ask.

you can look at ppl arguing about the correct amount of skincare products to use daily, the Correct Amount of makeup, and whether or not its radical to conform to beauty standards or defy them and argue about is it really conforming if visible makeup pisses men off, and you can say, well I dont care about any of that, I recognize the societal pressures of flawless skin and all that but you see,

I just want to look like a silly little clown :o3

[skunkes]

abt to say smthng deranged

but ive reverted to accepting my fate here especially since im really really lazy and stupid and just want to draw but the only sharp thing still poking at my sides is wanting to transition and how I know as soon as my birthday rolls around I'll wish I had done anything to get out and start that, while sobbing hysterically over how the years just keep passing me by in that regard. 14 years. 15 years. And many many more.

But at the same time its like. I wouldnt want to claw my way out solely to transition (which at this point would be the sole positive thing about leaving). Because whats the point. I want to be transitioned before I really look for or accept love, yes, but moving out and doing so wouldn't lead to that I dont think. Id be living the same life im living here, but Worse and more exhausting. So i also dont see the worth in fighting to do it.

I feel those 2 views are at odds, but, like, its never enough to do things just for myself even if I really need it. It always has to be in relation to someone else. There would not be a someone else so why bother. Im not finding love while I live here so it doesn't Really matter if i cant do it, but this wouldnt change if i left so why would I fight for it. Why be the true version of me if I have nobody to share Me with (especially considering it will ostracize me from most everyone else I love.) I dont know

[skitskatdacat63]

As aforementioned, please take my Leyendecker type Nando bcs that recent Boss pic has brainrotted me

+ ref:

[orcelito]

I think I cried harder today over my dad's jackets than I did at his deathbed. That was a miserable time of course, a memory that will likely be seared into my brain until I die, but I cried... I think a normal amount, all things considered. More than I ever usually do of course, but I typically don't cry At All. All this free crying is certainly surreal.

The jackets, though. I was put in charge of doing his laundry, because we don't want to pack up dirty clothes. I was expecting it to be unpleasant bc my dad's dirty clothes - gross. But really, it was much more unpleasant in that... those were his. It felt wrong to touch them. Felt wrong to treat his jackets as gross. Because they were just his jackets. They weren't even in the hamper. And then I was remembering him wearing them, and then I was crying. Again. And again. Weeping over these damn jackets.

Then I found a shirt on his bed that still smelled like him. It smelled like a Hug From Dad. And that set me off crying even harder.

In total, I think I cried like 6 times within 40 minutes. It took me that long to finish sorting the damn clothes bc I just. Was a wreck. Like, what are you supposed to do when you're living life like normal, vaguely hopeful bc you're taking steps to secure your own happiness, and then 4 days later you're sorting your dad's laundry because he fucking died. Suddenly. Without a goodbye.

And you have to worry about his lack of a will (even under an ideal situation, only 2 heirs and no conflicts between us, probate's a fucking Bitch), and arranging the funeral, and prepping his obituary, and picking out pictures, and writing a speech bc you want to talk at his funeral, of Course you want to talk at his funeral, but even just thinking about anecdotes you could share has you crying yet again.

I've cried more times in the past 3 days than likely the entirety of last YEAR. And that's WITH my cat, and uncle, and family friend dying. Those all hurt, my uncle most of all, & I was real fucked up over it. But this? This was my Dad. Likely the person I'd have named 2nd closest to me in my life, second only to my sister. He wasn't perfect, but he did so much for me throughout my entire life. All he wanted was to raise us to be happy and independent. And he accomplished it, we're getting by without him, but we still wanted several more decades with him. He was only 57. We should've gotten several more decades with him.

But here we are now. Playing investigators to his life, digging into all his shit, trying to find documents and take inventory of all his things, and learning Many things about him in the process. In his lockbox of sensitive documents, like his SSN and birth certificate and all that stuff, we found an old letter. About a decade old now, written in my hand. Right at the very top, we found that he'd kept the letter I wrote to him telling him frankly about my struggles and the things I wanted him to do better. He kept it. He tried to take it to heart. He looked at it again, sometime more recently than all the rest of the documents. That was on top.

His love for us is evident everywhere. The pictures he has hanging up all over the place, majority of them with us in them. The old fathers day cards placed on display in his bedroom bookshelf. The gifts we gave him, even stupid little knick knacks, placed around his apartment with pride. I wish we'd taken more videos of him. I don't want to forget the sound of his voice. I don't want to forget his smell either, the smell of a Hug From Dad, but I still tossed that shirt into the wash even though it felt like saying yet another goodbye.

It's the suddenness that hurts the most, I think. We were planning on having him help me finally get my license this year. My final words to him, the last thing he would've seen from me, were messages asking up on whether he'd called his car insurance company to make sure there wouldn't be problems. I should've called him more. I don't know if I'm going to learn from this.

I cut my 2 weeks off early to have time to grieve and to work on things for the funeral and settling the estate. The last thing I'd wanna do right now is selling fucking bubble tea in a job I already decided to leave. So here I am without a job, though with potentially two life insurance policy payouts to come. Inheriting half his 401k. Inheriting couches, knickknacks, keepsakes, paintings, art pieces, maybe even his guitar and other furniture if we can figure out what to do about space (I don't have room for this furniture, I don't know if I even have room for the couches, but God do I want to keep so much of this furniture). It has me even considering keeping one of his guns, just one. A tiny little revolver, it sits so comfortably in my hand. I don't even want to use it for anything. I just want to have it, keep it stored in a drawer with its ammo kept separate. I don't like guns, but this is a part of him. He loved collecting guns. He was about as responsible with them as someone can be, keeping them locked in a lockbox and impressing upon his children the importance of gun safety (I've known the basic gun safety rules ever since I was a little kid. Of course, of course, of course.) It reminds me of him. It's horrifically easy to have a gun in Indiana. I apparently don't even need a permit to carry anymore. (I have no intention to ever carry this in public.)

It's all a cycle. Business, grief, thoughts about my future. Round and round, like the most nauseating carousel in existence. I don't know how I'm still so functional. My skills with compartmentalization have been my lifesaver.

And im just thinking about the story my dad's best friend shared today. About a friend of theirs who lost her father. She reached out after hearing about my dad to share his words with her: "it's okay to grieve, but don't make his death your life".

He explicitly referenced himself in this, saying if he were to die suddenly that he wouldn't want us to define ourselves by it. Grief is expected, but he wants us to be able to move on. He's always wanted us to establish ourselves and make ourselves happy. He wouldn't want to be a weight holding us back from that.

So every time I start to feel guilty for thinking about having nicer furniture or using his life insurance payout to fund the rest of my college, I remind myself of that. Thinking about the material isn't a bad thing. I'm only human. And in the end, he'd Want me to be thinking about it. He never intended to die, certainly not without warning like this, so he would've only encouraged me being pragmatic about it all.

He only ever wanted us to be happy. So I need to do what I can to live up to that.

I love him. I miss him already.

[nabaath-areng]

I was planning to build new desktop this fall, but seeing that the winter half year practically chains me to bed making me incapable of sitting up I took some of my savings to get a laptop so I can have it in bed for drawing, writing etc at least. And so I'll save back up the coming months and build it once spring arrives instead (hopefully component prices has gone down then too)

All that to say I can only eat my hands as I catch glimpses of dawntrail news after having been ffxiv-less since july last year. my abstinence is out the roof

[theood]

My toofy woofy hurts. My teethy weethy are in pain I'm getting so sick of eating on one side of my mouth I need this supposed infection to please fucking leave my mouth. All I'm eating is rice and bananas right now I want some fucking protein I haven't been able to eat proper since 9/10 or 9/11 I can barely brush my teeth this feels like a root canal that didnt take the moment I got it done and it's not at all making me.confident for the other one I'm scheduled for because it seems like my tooth pain is never going away andnif the other root canal is on the other side of my mouth I'm just straight uo fucked like what will I do because i had a banana i was eating touch that tooth again last night by accident and it hurt so fuckinf bad. I didn't even bite down!! I can't do this anymore

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[maaaxx]

11 & 19 for the ask game ❤

ask game :)

11 has already been answered here

-

19. "Tell me a story about your writing journey. When did you start? Why did you start? Were there bumps along the way? Where are you now and where are you going?":

Short answer:

From the time I could vaguely write I was writing "books" (or as much of a book a child that young can make)

I entered my first writing contest when I was 9 or 10 and I got 5th place in my school

A year later I started my first major wip that got me invested into writing as a hobby

A year after that I started another wip that most of my current wips are branches off of and also started posting bits and pieces on wattpad

When I was 14 I had my writing skills tested for early college admission and scored in the top 5 percent in my state (still very proud of this)

Entered and won a couple writing competitions besides that stopped writnig

Then a couple years later I started writing fanfiction

Currently pondering working towards actually publishing some books one day.

Long answer under the cut :)

I remember making "books" since I could write. Like I would staple paper together and I remember one specifically that had something to do with sea horses but i dont remember the plot.

My mom has boxes filled of these "books" with all of the words and even my name misspelled and poorly illustrated characters and stuff.

When I was in like 4th grade (9-10 years old) my teacher had an assignment to where we made up a story and applied whatever type of literary technique we were learning about that week to it. So like if we were learning about similes the assignment would be come up with 5 sentences that include similes that pertain to your story and include one or something like that. At the end of the year we were supposed to have 4-5 pages of this story. I think I finished with like 10-12 or something like that. She made me summarize it 💀

If I remember right I think that my story was about this set of twins where one was born with some type of super power that only the other twin knew about and the superpowered twin got kidnapped by some scientists that wanted to expirement on her and my story followed the other twin and this like 12 year old girl dedicating her teenagehood to finding the lost twin. I think I made it so the dad actually ended up hiring the kidnapper and the dad and kidnapper both got arrested. I want to find this again because I dont remember a lot about it.

That same year my teacher ended up having me enter a poetry contest and I think it was a tri-county thing. I didn;t like poetry (I still hate writing it, love reading it though) so I half assed it and I think I got within the top 5 (??) of my school. (just elementary school) so that was neat.

(This specific teacher was one of those really strict teachers that no one else liked but my little undiagnosed autistic self LOVED her because i always knew what to expect yk?? but is also the one who really got me into reading and writing and stuff and I dont think I'll ever not me extremely grateful for her)

The next year I started forming this one wip. Its definetly my longest and most elaborate and sentimental one because it opened so many different doors for me.

There was no plot but it pretty much followed this group of like 20 teenagers that had very different lives and were all really traumatized and during the "story" they're all like 15-18 trying to figure out how to move on from their childhoods and maintain healthy relationships with eachother and their individual support systems.

Some of them are neurodivergent and some of their stories are centered around that.

One of the characters name is Jack. Jack is bipolar and so is his mom and so because of his moms mental illnesses and stuff he was in and out of fostercare from like 5-13. Hes probably the 'main' character in this.

Hes also went deaf from a tmi from when he was like 9.

Then theres Allison who is autistic and she is your stereotypical 'gifted kid burnout' 'graduated at like 15' type of autistic. but this leads to a lot of issues with her and her main thing is kind of working through that.

Travis comes from a VERY religious (almost cultish) family and is develops schizophrenia at like 16 I think and he's also pansexual and his parents go through his phone and find some texts from his partner and kick him out so hes homeless and has to deal with that.

But like I said theres like 17 more of these characters and its very elaborate. It goes into the parents childhoods and deals with generational trauma and how mental illness can affect parenting.

The 'story' mostly follows Jack and Allison (theyre love interests) and everything is kind of through their pov and their relationships with the other characters and stuff.

But like 11 year old me started writing this out in composition books and between then and when I turned 15 ish and got a computer, I filled I think close to 30 composition books with this story.

But I started researching mental disorders and stuff for this story so I could make their stuff as realistic as possible and that kickstarted my spin on psychology, which led to me wanting to be a social worker which is my major. It also meant that I was really ahead in also my psyche classes. Im *technically* going into my 5th year of college and I started taking psyche classes my second year and I didnt start getting into stuff that I didn't know until the year that just ended so 11 year old me really knew what she was doing.

I remember making my mom buy me textbooks and those articles that are behind a paywall for birthdays and Christmas's

I'm getting off track

A year or two after that I started developing this other wip with kids with superpowers and there was a whole lot of worldbuilding and stuff to this one and its what got me into fantasy which is the main genre I write outside of fanfic. (my hecles wip is loosely based on this one)

(part of this one is on wattpad somewhere)

When I was 14 I took a test that determined whether or not I would be able to start college early and part of this test was writing skills. There was a fiction and a nonfiction portion and then they combined those two scores and averaged them out and my score was in the 95th percentile (top 5 percent) of everyone who takes the test (so on average like 17-19 year olds usually and then some outliers) so I see that as one of my biggest writing achievments.

(i scored shit on the math and reading comprehension portions though)

I stopped writing and stuff for like two years besides entering writing contests.

I've entered like 5 and won 2. One was tri-county and I got first place and the other one was a little bigger but it wasnt a state contest, I think it might have been regional but I got third place. I consider those both big accomplishments too.

And then when I was 17 I started writing fanfiction.

I think fanfiction is what actually got it in my head that maybe I could write an actual book one day. Like before I just saw it as like a hobby because I was scared of the commitment of writing a whole book but ive written almost 200,000 words of one of my fanfics and it wasn't that overwhelming and I think that usually a decent sized novel so why not give it a try?

Idk if that answered the question or if I got TOO off track but oh well :)

[ech0light]

u ever look back on a situation you were in and think to yourself “Damn That Was Kinda Fucked Up Actually.”

[zackcharine]

i need a walking around aimlessly tag so bad and i also. Need to stop my brain from fucking with what the ep actually representsJXHXBD

[bunnihearted]

🌷🕸️

[clonewarsahsoka]

My nervous system has been soooo fucked the last few days due to #Emotions!

[arolesbianism]

Some Brute doodles plus a bonus Button

[talkorsomething]

Too [insert adjective here] for guard ...................

Well, it's only half related.

We "hit a pothole", "had a slipup", whatever you want to call it — sunday. Aka: for the sake of my sanity we are not labeling it a relapse but good god does it feel as though I have invited the demons back in.

I know why, but I don't really know why. Because, I mean... I never have, to begin with. So: when I decided i was doing it sunday, i accepted it. "Let it happen", as someone would probably say to me. It's not...

I've been thinking about it for a while now. It's like anything - it comes and goes, a few times a year, and no matter what, I always ignore it.

Except, maybe there's something I'm not paying attention to? Or, ignoring, is the better word for it?

Of course it would be the one thing I have happening in my life.

November, I was burnt out for unrelated reasons. It was a lot to take in. That made sense. Now? ... why now?

There's not really any pressure on me. Yes, I have to do things, yes, it will be noticed if they're bad, but ...... it's not important. We don't spend time on it. I'm coming back next year, but it might be at the cost of ... all of this. I think it's progress. I haven't touched my guitar in any serious capacity in over a year. I think it's progress.

I don't take compliments well. I can't tell if that's why I don't get them, but I'm not being corrected much either. Only when I drift too far from what the work is supposed to be, only after weeks of it going, I can only assume, unnoticed. I keep getting stuck.

...push it back down.

Telling me I'm doing good isn't telling me what I know I have to be getting wrong. I could take it, at the cost of... all of this. I'm anticipating, and I know it can come. This is not where I was when I started.

It's been said, I haven't been told, that not starting it means you're more of a burden, by making the other person have to do it first. I know that. I do. And still it doesn't help. I'm not drowning. It wasn't an accident, but it wasn't planned, either. I don't know you.

I don't know you.

I'm not a good person. I'm not a nice person. Every week I tell myself this is really it, and every week I come back, and ... what? Forget I ever said anything? Forget we're not friends?

Well, we're not, huh? Nobody is, with me. What you see I swear you misunderstand. You don't ask. If you do, well, I can't answer. We're at an impasse.

It's not even my fault we didn't make it. I shouldn't feel like this over nothing. I don't do anything. You will, correctly, not let me do anything, because potential doesn't matter if you can't back it up. If you won't back it up. I let things happen to me.

I don't even feel better. And, actually, ironically, i think i know what would let me feel better. If I can't be upset with anyone else, at least I can be with myself.

... but, well, not even that. Your heart in my hands, but I mean it diegetically. And metaphorically. I hate putting myself out there, I hate having to actually perform, and yet every time, no matter what, I do it. I'm fine. I only cared at the start, and even then not very.

I don't feel anything. Not a lot, anyways. I don't let it happen. I can't. I don't know what it'll mean if I start being honest with myself.

...

I've pulled myself out of this before. A few times, now. Different circumstances, but I've done it all the same. Seasonal depression notwithstanding.

I'm only here because I did things I was scared to. And still, I'm the same. No progress made. The only way out is to do it again but I feel like I can't. I can't.

Will someone just let me say that?

Will someone just fucking help for once?

[aarghstop]

sorry there is SO MUCH text in the tags .. i definitely shouldve just put this in a regular post but . i didnt. its too late.. ive committed to this.

the whole "doflamingo has always been evil" thing doesn't sit right with me. idk. maybe it's because i think the environment during childhood is what shapes someone's personality, especially if there's a traumatic experience. and call me crazy, but perhaps being raised in a world full of supremacists and classists with an extreme god complex can affect your views on the world and yourself at a very early age. and perhaps i'm being a bit insane here, but, like, idk. maybe being fucking tied up and tortured and seeing everything you love burnt down to ashes while a whole town tells you you're evil for your mere existence could make you develop a hatred towards them. and, wow! maybe i'm saying something wild, but if you're taking care of your little brother and an older man tells you you're the chosen one to create a fucking mafia and he boosts your god complex to an insane, unhealthy, and almost grooming-like extent, of fucking course you're gonna end up like doflamingo.

but idk, call me crazy.