To the folks who is responding to my silly little poll about how y'all are progressing on projects during this holiday crunch with "I don't make gifts anymore because they are not appreciated", I am so very sorry y'all have had that experience.
I sometimes think we all have.
I no longer paint, because as a teen I spent months on a painting for my sperm donor in yet another attempt to bring out of him the father I always wanted. He promptly began criticizing everything that was wrong. Heartbroken, I took it back on the pretense I was going to "fix" it. Years later, after I finally ended my relationship with him; I burned it in a ritual as a final break from him.
I never painted a picture again. Rarely drew.
Having someone not appreciate your gift or are pointedly indifferent to it will shatter your soul.
To all y'all who have experienced this, I am so very sorry. I give to you my sincerest love and deepest hope that none of us experience that ever again.
Also, I am so proud of y'all for protecting yourselves! It is not worth the pain and anger to go through that shit again. I know some of y'all have that deep-rooted guilt because you have heard "but <insert excuse>" your whole fucking life until it just sits inside you giving your internal bully ammo to hit you with. (Especially true when it comes to family.) Let me assure y'all, it's bullshit and it eventually goes away.
To those who are planning to give handmade gifts, may each and every onr bring the kind of joy that sets your soul alight.
isnt there an official pic of mic somewhere out there where hes wearing a white button up shirt underneath his leather jacket? bc I think we need to bully him about that
Little purse made out of a fabric scrap to go with my ancient Greek inspired dress. The cord is a woven cord I made with my lucet as a stim. I love weaving things as stims.
And, much less exciting, two 1kg weights I can squish for my physical therapy exercises. It’s just a two rectangles folded in two and filled with the cheapest rice I could find but the pillows took a surprising amount of braincells to figure out…
The good thing is that they double as sensory friendly objects I can squish absently when I need.
DAY 15
GIVE IT UP FOR DAY 15
bad dream
bonus trauma ishi
Shinsou Hitoshi, disheartened by his defeat in the Sports Festival, does everything in his power to transfer into the heroics course, with a little extra help.
A story exploring the "what-ifs" of Shinsou's training prior to his return, becoming more and more canon-divergent as my desperate desire to give Shinsou what he deserves runs wild.
Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead & Shinsou Hitoshi,Class 1-A & Shinsou Hitoshi,Shinsou Hitoshi & Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic,Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead/Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic,Shinsou Hitoshi,Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead,Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic,Class 1-A (My Hero Academia),everyone shows up at some point,Shuuzenji Chiyo | Recovery Girl,Kayama Nemuri | Midnight,Anxiety,Anxiety Attacks,Personal Growth,Quirk Malfunctions,Angst,Hurt/Comfort,Fluff,Class 1-A as Family (My Hero Academia),Implied/Referenced Child Abuse,Foster Care,Child Neglect,erasermic,Copious amounts of domestic Erasermic,Misunderstandings,MIC ACTUALLY BEING IMPORTANT IN THE STORY,Cat Cafés,Cats,Chatting & Messaging,Minor Original Character(s),Minor canon divergence,unfair representation of the foster care system.
Couldn't recommend enough. All about a hurt Shinsou being shown love by his new gay dads.
Let's play a game. Its called Fic Rec.
Basically, how you play, is we give each other fic recs so we can share and interact with this Fandom
Here I go
Fic Rec round 1
TW: suicidal thoughts
Summary:
Midoriya Izuku's bad relationship with heights started at a young age.
It had started festering when he first hurt himself falling.
It grew violent when he first learned what it felt like to fall out a window.
And it turned into cold hatred when he first learned that jumping didn't always mean getting away, sometimes it meant getting trapped.
But as much as he hated heights, Izuku thought it looked pretty from 30 meters up high.
It was also weird, he thought, that in movies they portray people as crying, screaming, whimpering, and being so emotional as they stand on the edge.Izuku just felt empty.
A sense of calm finality.
This was it.
This was how he was always destined to end up.
He closed his eyes and breathed.
"Midoriya, step away from the edge, kid."
And Izuku’s eyes shot open.
. . .
Yalllll I cannot even express how good this writing is. 100/10, ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐, whatever you call it. Its P R I S T I N E