fuckinmemesfam:

acemindbreakersblog:

fuckinmemesfam:

my current addiction is watching documentaries with/about babies and i hate it a lot

My advice is to make a list of the things in your life that would need to change for you to feel ready to be a parent, and figure out a plan for how to deal with each of these things.

Three years ago, when I was 26, I was feeling depressed because I want a kid so badly and I felt like I’d never be ready. So I made a list of what I needed to change, with items like:

  • I needed to have fewer and less severe meltdowns.
  • I needed to figure out where my kid would live, and get better at independent living skills.
  • I needed at least $2,000 in savings, to be spent on childcare essentials, and a plan for making more money in the future.

At the time, my plan was to aim for getting everything ready in time to start trying to conceive when I turned 30. I turned each of these into concrete subgoals, like meditating a certain amount of times and finishing the tasks in my DBT workbook for the first item; or earning a certain amount of XP in a real-life RPG game by doing daily living tasks for the second one.

Now I’m 29 and I’ve almost got everything ready, and I’m confident that I’ll be able to start trying to conceive next year.

omg congrats! and good luck too!

my biggest problem is that I don’t really know if I definitely want to be a parent in the long-term. I just end up with random “NEED CHILD NOW” thoughts for like a week or two at a time, and I’d want to be sure I actually want one forever. 😛 it helps that I’m still only 23 though because when I keep it logical, I don’t want a baby at this age D;

in comparison, the whole asexual issue seems much easier to deal with when I get there so hey, i can at least try keeping it positive lol

I wasn’t sure when I was 23, either. But by 26 I was sure. Obviously you’re not me so who knows if it’ll go the same?

One of my close friends, when she was 23 she was unsure, and now she’s decided she definitely doesn’t want kids herself, but does want to be an elementary school teacher so she can “borrow other people’s kids temporarily”. So that’s another thing to consider, whether you’d like to work with kids instead of having one.

Thanks for the congratulations, by the way. You made me smile.

Since apparently people are worried that Tumblr will collapse, just thought I’d mention where you can find me if it does:

https://acemindbreaker.wordpress.com

https://archiveofourown.org/users/Acemindbreaker/works

Also, if you see an Acemindbreaker, Elbs or Ettina on a forum, chances are pretty good that it’s me!

fuckinmemesfam:

my current addiction is watching documentaries with/about babies and i hate it a lot

My advice is to make a list of the things in your life that would need to change for you to feel ready to be a parent, and figure out a plan for how to deal with each of these things.

Three years ago, when I was 26, I was feeling depressed because I want a kid so badly and I felt like I’d never be ready. So I made a list of what I needed to change, with items like:

  • I needed to have fewer and less severe meltdowns.
  • I needed to figure out where my kid would live, and get better at independent living skills.
  • I needed at least $2,000 in savings, to be spent on childcare essentials, and a plan for making more money in the future.

At the time, my plan was to aim for getting everything ready in time to start trying to conceive when I turned 30. I turned each of these into concrete subgoals, like meditating a certain amount of times and finishing the tasks in my DBT workbook for the first item; or earning a certain amount of XP in a real-life RPG game by doing daily living tasks for the second one.

Now I’m 29 and I’ve almost got everything ready, and I’m confident that I’ll be able to start trying to conceive next year.

Is there a term for someone who is fully allo towards one gender, but grey or demi towards the other? Because I’ve heard from people who are like “I’ve only been attracted to women, but suddenly I’m falling in love with my male best friend” or something like that, so it seems to be a thing. Are they just considered bi with a preference or hetero/homoflexible? Or is there a specific microlabel for this experience?

wildfaewhump:

friendlylocalwhumper:

i have a thing for when non-human characters are treated like trash, like dumb beasts, and just restrained and tortured and laughed at and humiliated without a care in the world because “they’re not people”.

He wakes, slowly and in stages, sometime after they pass though the village but before the hunters stop for the night. They haven’t bothered to remove the tackle and supplies piled atop him, and the hard edges of pots and pans and traps dig into his hip and his ribs is the first sensation he becomes aware of. For a brief, blessed moment, he is confused, but then he feels the muzzle cutting into his face and the black iron hoops in his wings and he remembers. He bites back against the sob that threatens to burst forth – it’s hard enough to breathe, he can’t afford the congestion that would come if he lets his grief and fear overtake him. Besides, the humans will probably punish him if he makes too much noise, and he’s in enough pain as it is. 

Iesin flinches at that last thought – where did that come from? Fearing humans, modifying his behavior for them – he is FAE, he is a starchild, he is brighter and better and more than any mortal could hope to comprehend! 

Isn’t he?

Is he?

The wood of the cart should sing to him, slow and sonorous, each plank a note in the chord of a tree in the symphony of its home forest. The wool of the blankets stifling him should mumble and mutter of grass and herds and the sheep from which it came. Beyond his immediate surroundings, he should be attuned to the very ground, the sky, the sea, but he’s not. The black iron shackles have cut him off from the land, blinded him to the stars, and deafened his grasp on the mysteries. The quiet, niggling thought grows with every rattle of the cart; without all that makes him fae, what is he?

The cart slows and comes to a creaking halt, interrupting his maudlin reverie. He hears the hunter’s boots clomping across the boards, then jumping down to the earth below, and then the pile of tackle atop him begins to shift as they unload it. Eventually, he is uncovered, and a pair of them seize his arms and drag him out of the cart and across the camp they’ve set up. Their tents are pitched in a small circle around a hastily dug fire pit, over which a pot already simmers. Near the slightly larger tent of the head hunter, set far enough back that there is room for the men to sit round the fire, a stake has been pounded into the ground. The humans drag him towards it; he realizes what they are planning, and throws his weight back, digging his heels into the ground and thrashing against the grips on his arms. He will not be restrained, leashed to a stake like some beast!

They laugh at him and tighten their grips, digging meaty hands into his arms and dragging him forward against his useless scrabbles across the unlistening ground. The stake approaches, he won’t, he won’t! His writhing, thrashing fight gives them enough trouble that the leader looks up, annoyed by the noise.

“Get it secured! What’s the holdup?” he demands.

“It’s being a pain in the ass,” one grunts, wheezing suddenly when Iesin manages to throw an elbow into his stomach.

The leader stands, wiping his fingers on his jerkin and stamping across the campsite. He towers over Iesin, a thickset tree of a man with wild dark hair tangled by wind and time.

“You may have fingers and toes like a human, and you may have arms and legs and pretty eyes like a human, but you’re not,” he growls. “You’re a commodity, one that’s going to make me a rich man, but don’t in any way assume that makes me care a whit about your well-being. I’ll get top coin no matter what condition you’re in on the auction block, so you’d best learn how to behave right quick, or I’ll make up my mind to sell you for parts instead of whole.”

Iesin glares up at him, pitting his ire against the human’s impatient contempt. The men move to drag Iesin closer, and he digs his heels in, bucking against their hold.

The leader growls and seizes Iesin’s hair, dragging his head back till his skull nearly knocks against his spine. He shakes Iesin fiercely, till his vision spins and darkens and his limbs lose their will. The other two drop him at a nod from the leader, and Iesin crumples to the ground, unable to break his fall with his hands shackled behind his back. The leader kicks his unprotected midriff, knocking him back against the post and jarring the wind from his lungs. He curls in on himself, but it’s not enough to stave off another kick. He feels a rib shift and creak, flaring heat across his bones. Iesin gasps uselessly behind the muzzle, floundering for air. Dimly, he hears the leader’s voice.

“Secure it for the night. Don’t take any chances with it.”

Through spinning vision he catches a glimpse of the two hunters closing in over him, and feel his uncooperative body hoisted in their grips. They set his back against the stake, crushing feathers carelessly between his back and the rough wood. Something clinks, and clinks again, and when they step away he’s held upright despite the weakness that would have sent him listing to one side or the other if he was free. He is bound to the stake by the shackles on his wrists and his ankles, forcing him into an awkward kneeling position that he can tell will quickly become cramped and unpleasant, if not unbearable, if he is left that way for long.

He tips his head back against the stake, glaring at the humans with all his thwarted rage and pain. The men snort and leave him, turning back to their fire and their food, and Iesin is left tied to the stake, black iron leeching at his body while his soul withers without the connection to the world he never thought he’d be without. He is bereft of the mysteries, and this time when the creeping thoughts invade, slipping through the chinks in his sense of self caused by his ever more uncomfortable position and widened by every time the hunters casually cuff him as they move about the camp or call him an it – this time, when the thoughts come of how much less he is, how little he is actually worth without his ties to the land, this time, he cannot find the strength to fight them back.

the-real-seebs:

scesisonomaton:

lordhellebore:

janusscientes:

“English isn’t my first language” is not a serious excuse!

To all of you fanfic authors, bloggers, artist, to write/make something and then post it means that you are satisfied with the product. Now, to have created a piece that is fully/mostly constructed of text and to not have made the effort to at least get a grammar check is called arrogance. “I don’t care what you think, I wrote it, you read it. Who cares if you’re struggling to get a past every sentence. That’s your own problem!” You’re basically setting yourself up for negative feedback and criticism which, while many don’t bother to give, I would provide without hesitation.

Some say “I don’t need approval.”(which I sincerely don’t believe). Well, then, why are you posting this? Isn’t the whole point sharing something you can enjoy with people?

And then you start getting defensive and angry about it. “Well, English isn’t my first language!” I don’t care! Nobody does! Plus, if you post something online you should anticipate criticism. Great artists, celebrities, and basically everyone, face criticism on a daily basis EVEN WHEN the final product is marvelous.

So, what makes you different?

“English isn’t my first language” is not a serious excuse!

To all of you fanfic authors, bloggers, artist[s:] to write/make something and then post it means that you are satisfied with the product. Now, to have created a piece that is fully/mostly constructed of text and to not have made the effort to at least get a grammar check is called arrogance. [Replacing “to have” and “to not have” with “having” and “not having” would make this much easier to read.] “I don’t care what you think, I wrote it, you read it. Who cares if you’re struggling to get [remove superfluous “a”] past every sentence. That’s your own problem!” You’re basically setting yourself up for negative feedback and criticism[,] which, while many don’t bother to give, [That’s one hell of an awkward construction; consider “while many don’t bother with it” instead.] I would provide without hesitation. [In fact, the best solution would be to put the subclause starting with “which” at the end of the sentence. Otherwise it’s just clunky.][space]Some say[:] “I don’t need approval.”[space]([W]hich I sincerely don’t believe.)[remove incorrectly placed full stop] Well, then, why are you posting this? Isn’t the whole point sharing something you can enjoy with people?[space]And then you start getting defensive and angry about it. “Well, English isn’t my first language!” I don’t care! Nobody does! Plus, if you post something online you should anticipate criticism. Great artists, celebrities, and basically everyone[remove superfluous comma] face criticism on a daily basis EVEN WHEN the final product is marvelous.

Oh man, that’s already a magnificent takedown, but this clown just made me really mad.

English is fucking hard. Your spelling is arbitrary, your tenses don’t make sense, and what the fuck is going on with your prepositions anyway? But you still expect everyone to be perfect at it because it’s a ~global language~ or whatever. Spoiler alert, that’s stupid, you’re just entitled.

When I started out writing in English, I was shit. I can exactly map my skill level from the first time I published on FF.net to when I went to live in England to study writing for three years. Every writer sucks when they start. That’s just a fact. But non-native speakers writing in English are doing the whole thing with both hands tied behind their back, they’re struggling to come up with a way to say what they mean in a language they don’t know that well yet, they’ve got seven different dictionaries open in their browser. They’re frantically checking that they’re using the right names because they read Harry Potter in their own language when they were little and even though they’ve read the original now they’re still calling Rita Skeeter ‘Kimmkorn’ in their head. It’s a goshdarn STRUGGLE.

There’s that horrifying bit just after you start writing in another language where the words don’t work in your own anymore but your English skills haven’t really caught up yet and nothing you’re getting out on the page can do justice to what it felt like in your head. It’s a terrible, awful feeling that you’re not good enough at this and you can’t switch back somehow and you’re stuck in the middle producing stuff that you hate because it’s not right. It’s discouraging as fuck, but so many people stick with writing anyway, because they (we) can’t help it! There’s too many stories to tell, even if right now it feels like they’re kind of shit.

So who the fuck are you to go around preaching your elitist, prescriptivist bullshit at people who are pouring blood, sweat, and tears into their work and getting nothing in return except maybe the hope that someone somewhere gets a little bit of joy out of it?

When I started out, I put disclaimers on my fanfic that English wasn’t my first language, and people were super nice. They told me I was doing a good job, made suggestions on how I could improve, and corrected my idioms without being dicks about it. Because of that, I was brave enough to go to a different country to write and get a degree and keep writing stories for people to maybe enjoy on their lunch break, for free. Do you think your attitude encourages people to keep going and get better?

These people are putting hours of their work on the Internet, for free, literally asking for nothing, hoping that someone maybe has a good time reading it. Nobody is forcing you to read it, but Jeez, shut the fuck up about other people’s ability to write in a second language when you clearly barely have command of your first.

English is really hard. And you know what? I have seen the whole “but English might not be their first language” argument used so many times – but almost never when the writer wasn’t a native speaker of English.

Non-native speakers work really hard, and they don’t always get the weird crazy stuff right, but their writing makes any sense at all. Even if they’re really struggling with the crazy stuff, I can nearly always understand them with very little effort, because whatever rules they’re following, there are rules. Furthermore, the kinds of mistakes they do make are mistakes native speakers almost never make – they’re in the rules that we’re never even conscious of, like the ordering rule for adjectives, which I don’t know but can’t possibly get wrong. And that means that when I read English written by a non-native speaker, I usually don’t even think of it as looking incorrect; I just hear it as translated-sounding.

So, for instance, a Chinese speaker might write (I’ll get this wrong, sorry, I recognize the idiom but can’t reproduce it) “I am having a problem with my computer, the related software can not work.” And I know that “the related” is a translation for the possessive-modifier syllable, which we don’t have, and that “can not work” almost certainly means “sometimes fails to work” rather than “does not ever work”, and it sounds perfectly reasonable to me.

A native speaker might come up with something like “I have software on a computer, and it doesn’t work”, and I genuinely have no idea whether they mean that the software or the computer doesn’t work.

And if I complain about the latter, someone will tell me that English might not be their first language. But so far, every time I’ve been able to find out, it’s turned out that English was their first language, they just weren’t awesome at communicating.

… and note, that is not a moral failing. Communication is hard. Even really experienced writers have trouble with it sometimes. Just be willing to clarify if people are confused, and answer questions, and you should find people really accommodating. We’ve all been there.

I know several languages, but I can’t even imagine trying to write in anything but English. I’m amazed that there even are people trying to write in anything other than their native language.

aestherians:

Shout-out to fictionkin who don’t believe their kintype is caused by reincarnation!

I’m a fictionflickers person who doesn’t believe in reincarnation at all. I don’t know why I have fictionflickers, but the potential explanations I’ve considered are all psychological. (An autistic mirroring thing? Having an unstable body image? Resonating with characters who express an element of my personality?)

officialprydonchapter:

image–descriptions:

officialprydonchapter:

officialprydonchapter:

This is a positivity post for the kind of person Tumblr thinks is a tryhard hipster (or worse, a walking MPDG stereotype, even though applying the MPDG trope to people in real life is gross because real people aren’t male author fantasies.)

Nerdy, book-loving women and people assumed to be women, who don’t like small talk, get too invested in fandoms, and can’t put on makeup the right way– you are loved, you are valuable, you are not “trying too hard to be special.” I am one of you. 

Inb4 “nerds aren’t oppressed”– This post does not mention oppression. Go away.

#i wonder if the whol ‘nerds aren’t opressed’ thing might actually be a coded attack on autistic people#that people are justifying b/c male Fake Geek Dudes are sexually entitled pricks#i mean look at these buttons#like ¾ths of these are common autistic traits

Oh, the whole “nerds/introverts aren’t oppressed” thing ABSOLUTELY is thinly-veiled anti-Autistic ableism. But the thing is that saying “you’re not allowed to complain about the way you’re mistreated by others for being a nerd or an introvert, unless you’re Autistic, in which case you can because then it’s Actual Oppression” forces people to disclose things about themselves that they’re not comfortable disclosing. 

The thing I hate about Tumblr’s autism advocacy (really, Tumblr’s disability advocacy as a whole) is that they learn only enough about us as they know about every other disprivileged demographic– namely, that we’re Different, and Oppressed, and that us being different is only okay because we’re oppressed.

But, like, if we make a point of saying that the things we do are okay for everyone to do, then not only will it be safer for us to do those things, but Autistic people who don’t want to disclose the fact that they’re Autistic will be safe to be themselves without feeling pressured into disclosing. 

(Also, “they’re oppressed” is a really shitty reason to listen to someone, and it reeks of pity. “Their perspective and experiences are valuable” is so much better, don’t you think?)

[id: dark blue circles on purple backgrounds, with white all-caps text saying:

“Having interests is okay”

“Your interests don’t make you ‘fake deep’”

“Liking sci-fi and fantasy is okay”

“Being an introvert is okay”

“Talking about books doesn’t make a person pretentious”

“Not liking small talk isn’t pretentious either”

“‘Let people enjoy things’ applies to ‘weird’ things too”

“Me thinking that reality tv is pointless isn’t an attack on you”

“Seriously this kind of attitude was stale in tenth grade” 

/end id]

Reblogging for image descriptions.