can she be the mother of my child ; ;

Full Confession:

I struggle with depression and anxiety daily. Lately, it’s been worse than ever. I try to immerse myself in the games to keep my mind off things. I try to tell myself that I need to hold on because that’s what Lara would do.

I look back throughout my life and I can’t remember a moment without Lara. My Dad brought home a Playstation when I was 3. I remember seeing a girl on TV and asking who she was, and saying she was pretty.

That was when I became hooked.

As a small child, she helped me through school and my mother’s alcoholism. She helped me through my parent’s breakup. My Grandfather’s cancer and death. She made me want to live, to learn, to better myself.

Not long before my Grandad passed away, he bought me the Tomb Raider magazine that only ran a short time in UK. I think I still have the poster somewhere, covered in love heart stickers. He encouraged my love for Lara because he knew she was a positive influence, something I desperately needed in my life.

When I started self harming at age 11, I’d beat myself up afterwards, because Lara wouldn’t have done that. Again, I turned to the games instead of hurting myself.

As I got older and saw different psychiatrists, and was put on various antidepressants, one psychiatric nurse told me that living through Lara and “being her” to be confident was a good idea, but to maybe let her go when I could cope on my own. Obviously, I never took the latter part of her advice.

Lara helped me through the bullying I faced as a teenager. Through more fights with my mother. Eventually my mother and I bonded because of Lara when she started helping me with costumes.

I’ve made some of my dearest friends because of Lara, back in the day on various forums. I’ve travelled to meet two of them.

I have her name tattooed on me to remind me to be strong.

Even now, when I feel like everything is going wrong, when I think about suicide daily, I look to Lara for inspiration, for strength.

Never underestimate the impact a game can have on someone’s life. In my case, if it weren’t for a game, I wouldn’t be here.

anonymous asked:

Hey what do you think of Yang X Blake X Sun?

My honest answer would be if Blake wants to date anyone, she can. She’s 18, she’s an adult and smart enough to know if a person is worth dating or not. I don’t care what her sexuality is! I don’t care if she’s polygamous, she is who she is and I can’t change that. It’s my job as a mother to care for my child unconditionally because I brought her into the world and she never asked to be. So that’s pretty much it. She can date who she wants and I only care if she’s dating someone who is wrong for her and/or would hurt her.

My dear lgbt+ children, 

Seven years ago, my mother said having a gay child would be the worst thing that could ever happen to a parent and if one of her kids were gay, she couldn’t love them anymore. 

Yesterday, my mother sent me the link to a website about a lgbt+ christmas market and wrote “Your girlfriend would love this!”. 

People can change. Sometimes it just takes them a couple years.  

Stay hopeful. 

With all my love, 

Your Tumblr Mom 

Mrs Willison’s Homemade Jam

by reddit user FamilialDichotomy

As a child, I was a picky eater like I assume most children are. As my parents tell it, my eating habits transcended normal childhood proclamations of “I don’t like broccoli!” and evolved into a refusal to eat absolutely anything of substance. Things other children might eat and enjoy like chicken nuggets, spaghetti, or even a hot dog were shunned by toddler me. It got to the point, they say, where they and my paediatrician became concerned for my health.

Keep reading

Can we talk about the concept of humans adopting other sentient aliens as equal members of their families?

Like, in the posts I’ve seen so far, there’s mostly talks of humans adopting dangerous alien critters as pets but what about humans adopting sentient aliens?

“Human-George, just leave that be, they’re just a runt.” - “… No.” - “Human-George, you can’t - put them down! What are you doing?” - “Krlunk, I’m not leaving a child behind on this forsaken moon to die.” - “But they’re just a runt, not worth raising. The broodbirther and the feeders must have left it behind when they migrated 5 sols ago.” - “Are they going to come back?” - “No, Human-George, Twargs migrate for long periods of time, and we can’t spare the time to go after them.” - “Then I’ll take them with me.” “- “What?” - “I’ll take this little champion here with me and I will raise them as my own.” - “You- you can’t just do that! You can’t just spill your pack-bonding instincts- Human George!!! Get back here!” - “Don’t listen to Krlunk, kid, I won’t leave you here alone. Doesn’t matter how many appendages you have. You hungry? Thought so, let’s go get you some grub.” - (in the distance) “Human-George! The extra rations are coming out of your pay!!!” - “See if I care, Krlunk. Go eat paperwork or so.”

Imagine human patchwork families with little aliens raised and loved alonside their own, imagine some human trying to explain to crewmates how they have a Twarg sibling and a Sh’ilean sister even though their parents look very much human, imagine humans parents trying their very best to provide their alien child with the best possible care.

Also imagine it the other way around. Humans getting adopted by aliens and bonding with them just as much as they would with their own kind, either through deeds or just love. Humans building their own families in a wild mix of colours and number of appendages or eyes.

“So this is my human side of the family, see, these are my human parents.” - “Is that your larval form in their arms, Hooman-Cassandra?” - “Sort of, yeah, and this is my Gran’hroo mother and all of her children.” - “How can you have a Gran’hoo relative? I thought your kind could only come from a bonded pair of hoomans?” - “Oh, I used to live on the same mining colony as her when I was a child and I’d play with her children, spent most of my days in their house and one day I called her ‘Acraï’ - ‘mother’ in Gran’hoo language - by accident. It kind of stuck. She took me in when my parents temporarily left for another space station and I wanted to finish my education where I’d started it. When I left for my first space journey, she gave a clan insignia and called me her daughter so yeah… this is my Mom, my Dad, and my Acraï and they’re all my parents.”

grantairely  asked:

tell me a magical story!

When the witch says “I can make you this spell, but it will cost you your name,” she doesn’t hesitate.


Instead, she says “Which name?”


And the witch smiles. “Most aren’t so clever as to ask. For that, I’ll let you choose which of your names you give me.”


*


“My child, my child,” says her mother when she brought home the spell, when she heals the little sister who was close to death. “What did you give up for this?”


“Nothing I didn’t choose to give.”


*

Keep reading

Day Ninety-One

-A young girl realized that she had inadvertently been hiding an item while her mother had been attempting to empty her cart and announced, “Mom, I was sitting on a pair of socks! They were hiding in my butt hut!” Any child this eloquent is certain to make history.

-An elderly man walked into the store, stared at a three-foot statue of the Target dog Bullseye, and asked loudly of no one in particular, “Does this dog attack often?” He then carried on his way to go shopping, apparently not all that concerned with finding an answer.

-Upon placing two solitary cans of soup on the counter, I was told with no context, “Tonight, she’s learning the wonders of canned soup.” I eventually was given the backstory that the guest had an exchange student from Austria, where they apparently do not have canned soup, but I believe that we can all do to be reminded of these wonders sometimes.

-I am glad to see that the etiquette of returning one’s cart rather than abandoning it at the register has reached Austria. I am disappointed to see that it has still yet to reach my surrounding area.

-A baby said hi. I said hi. The baby told me I was cute. I ended the conversation there. I did not know how to tell the baby that I am a taken man.

-I rang up a man with one standard brown eye and one eye which appeared to have been made out of stainless steel, qualifying itself as an Eye Deluxe.

-A four year-old attempted to smuggle a Nutella snack tub into her father’s purchase. I tried to help her sneak it through, but we were sadly both found out before the mission could be completed.

Poetry by star light

Aries

she’s falling through the atmosphere
shattering onto the earth like cascading stars
scattering stardust fresh from heaven
a baby at war
this is just the beginning
she is completely out of control
untamed and inspiring
a ruby glow inferno
i will never let you go
she spins her lucid Alice in Wonderland
imagination into a live playground
spiraling down the chorus of cosmos


Taurus

a crown of flowers wrapped around her head
the sweet perfume of daisies
dripping down her neck
she inherited a palace
a dainty treehouse in the woods
and she would sit and drink tea
and read books like she should
good night
and sweet women, gourmet, and wine
serenity and life
there is a kingdom inside

Gemini

every time you open your mouth I see fireflies of luscious
language flow forth like radiating confetti
like that golden helmet on your marvelous mercury mind
…i see you wield words like they are ingredients in spellbooks
and you feel alone with your thoughts
and you don’t know what’s louder, the world outside
or the chaos within
the madness created by your twin
and you write invitations with your mind
to birthdays that lead to wonderland and poetry tea mixed
inside ~
i can hear and see and feel your voice everywhere


Cancer

she writes poetry on sheets of moonlight
with a pen that pours out ink from the whole
night sky
it’s her creamy words made of moisture beads and dreamy
composition, she can create an orchestra
with lunar lyrics and love notes written by the stars

everything i see in the world
it all comes back to you
because you are my mother, my lover
my daughter and my sister
i can hear the stars whisper
stay wild
my dear
moon child

Leo

if i was a psychic i’d say to a leo that their heart was carrying too much weight.
i’d say you are so involved in the moment that i can hear
the violins of your heart playing and you leave it wide open
and that this is your curse and your gift.
i know you go home and you can’t stop leaking
you can’t stop leaking
the gods are watching you crying
but those tears that fell down the cheeks of great leos like napoleon, max heindel, amelia earheart, helena blavatsky and carl jung
are the ones glistening from your eyes
the gods know how marvelous you are ~ even when you can’t shine

Virgo

shaking and rapidly exhaling, don’t crush your wings
against the weight of your own mind
they were so perfectly, pleasantly, patiently crafted
like the way you use your hands to delicately
thread and rewire and repair
they are like instruments the way they touch everything and leave a
frosted glaze
i always know when you have been because
you leave nothing behind
like you want to be invisible

Libra

she rises from the aroma of a flower
dainty as a forest fairy, honorable as a warrior
fighting for the cause that captures
her musical heart
she’s always on the threshold of a fairytale
she is some delectable mind and figure of
abstract beauty to behold
life is her dance
across cards gently placed
she twirls on imagination and spins in reverie,
a performance of abstract movement,
a tightrope display, a true portrait of balance
and artistry


Scorpio

I want to destroy these monsters
But devastating them
destroys a part of myself
I feel more alive in the shadow
than the light
I prefer the creaking hollow in my bones
to the noise of people, the static, the show
I have been violated
by poisons from hidden valleys
I have been stung by leaking ink
dripping dark words from unconscious levies
Sometimes my body is just a floating
Trying to contain century’s memories
Between my legs the monsters crawl
Trying to perforate every part of me
And I was only just becoming used to this skin 


Sagittarius


she hears wisdom from the mountains
and songs from the sea
she sings the music of every language
and tastes of every herb and spice
something is sultry and glowing in her gaze
she is sunkissed and filled with dreams
that seem written constellations
her mind has wandered everywhere
it has left footprints in every valley and
book, every mind and philosophy
she is like sunday everyday, a vacation
a getaway
a sail into the horizon, a cruise through the stars
a freefall into nature’s arms

Capricorn

look how much you’ve grown
i’ve seen you slowly fill in those eyes
that belong to an old soul
i’ve seen you stretch into those bones
that were always too big for you
and you keep waking up every morning
because you know one day you will be
rewarded
you hold onto the knowing that
things will get better
and you will feel less sicker
and your work will finally be done 

Aquarius

you try to read your own puzzle like a book
with a magnifying glass
as if you are disconnected
on the outside staring in
you are not an abstract entity
i feel you
your body pulsates like electrons exploding
like bubbles of blue foam
your feelings are turquoise crystals over the sea
never tainted but reflecting shades and hues from
unknown galaxies
don’t hide what was crafted so exquisitely

Pisces

there were times she stayed in bed for days
i couldn’t touch her without her bleeding
she had third degree burns
every sense hurts
then she would laugh with god
or angels or something invisible
i am not dealing with a girl
but something magical

Cherry

MY MOTHER ASKED ME TO STOP WRITING ABOUT HER
 
  1
 
  When my best friend was a child,
  her mother used The Game of Life
  as a metaphor to explain sexuality.
 
  “You can have two pink guys
  or two blue guys, you know,”
she explained.
 
  My best friend is so straight,
  she doesn’t even masturbate.
 
  Still, she always knew that even
  if she wasn’t, even if someday she ended up
  shotgun to another pink piece,
 
  she would remain loved and supported.
 
  She wouldn’t have to ask for forgiveness.
  Of all the things she was taught to apologize for,
  love has never been one of them.
 
  2
 
  My mother doesn’t bring up my sexuality
  anymore. I think she is tired of arguing.
 
  She is sick of reading about her faults
  in my poetry. She hates my selective memory;
  how I only remember the sharp things,
  the slammed doors, the heavy whiskey.
 
  “I used to sing to you before bed
  every night,”
she reminds me icily.
  “but you must’ve forgotten that story.”
 
  Last week, she silently folded up her old flannels
  and placed them at the foot of my bed.
 
  I know this is probably just a coincidence,
  not a peace treaty or an attempt to understand me.
 
  But for my own well-being,
  I have to take this as a sign she is trying,
 
  even if it isn’t.
—  MY MOTHER ASKED ME TO STOP WRITING ABOUT HER, by Blythe Baird.
Lock and Key (M)

*I am so tired*

Requests: Anon asked “Can you make like a dirty y/n imagine of Jimin please??” + @bangtanofarmys asked “ FUCK FUCK FUCK OMG FINALLY SOMEONE’S REQUEST IS OPEN. Ok I want to request a rough Jimin smut, with daddy kink and stuff BECAUSE IM SO TIRED OF BEING REQUESTED AND NOT REQUEST T-T “ you’re so cute wtf 

Word Count: 10.8k bc I don’t know when to stop


Another mundane day has come to pass, your best friend’s arm slung over your shoulders as you soak up the blinding sunrays on your skin. The sun pressed harsh kisses on your delicate skin, a definite burn accompanied by heavy sweating was just the peak of your day. You could barely remember the words of your professor, zoned out and ready to slump into your couch for two days.

Anthropology was fun when you still had your first year jitters, excited to be in university and getting a degree in something you loved. Now, a few weeks into your second year, you wished the years would just pass by.

Distracted by your internal monologue, you barely caught the bus on time, the driver ready to zoom through traffic and you waved your hand out wildly to catch his attention. You stumbled into a seat, the bus moving no less than a second after you got on.

Mindlessly watching the street signs while numerous people leaving and entering the bus, you get off at the stop near your house. You kick off your shoes, dropping your bag on the shoe rack and you heard a broken sob.

“Mom? Dad?” You went into the kitchen, followed by a set of sniffling before going into the living room. Your father held your mother in a consoling way, her hands clinging onto his red sweater. She grabbed a tissue and blew into it.

“Mom? Why are you crying? What happened?”

Keep reading

i don’t think michonne gets much recognition from the fandom as a whole for how strong she is. and i don’t mean in a physical/she’s a warrior goddess way. i mean mentally and emotionally. the women on this show get praised so much (rightfully so) for how strong they are after losing people but never michonne… they all lost siblings, parents, lovers. but yall… michonne lost her BABY. i cannot even imagine the pain. the mother child bond is so strong. there’s no other love like it imo. no love as powerful. ik we don’t know what happened exactly but imagine. she wanted to protect him and couldn’t. can you imagine the guilt and pain she felt? and most likely still feels? and the feeling of emptiness and loss? oh my god. i’m so happy rick has finally found his soulmate in her. but i’m even happier for michonne. she’s not only found her soulmate, but someone to confide in and mourn with. someone to be vulnerable and let go with. she’s found comfort in judith and carl, and in turn they’ve gotten that much needed maternal love back in their lives. this shit is just so beautiful and they all fit together like a puzzle it makes me cry.

God’s hands are scarred to never forget you. In Heaven, the only scars will be on Jesus. Do you think God can forget you? He has a constant reminder in his nail-scarred hands. The Bible says, “Can a mother forget the baby at her breast and have no compassion for the child she has borne? Though she may forget, I will not forget you! See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands” (Isaiah 49:15-16a NIV).

I hate people’s reaction when they ask what I got my mom for mothers day and I tell them nothing.
“But shes your mom! She gave you the gift of life!”
Yes, but she also gave me an array of mental illnesses stemming from childhood trauma after years of emotional abuse and neglect, taking away my childhood.
Not all mothers deserve to be celebrated. It took me years of guilt and shame to realize this. To realize its ok to distance yourself from someone toxic, even if that person is your own mother.
So no, I didn’t get my mom a mother’s day gift, and that is ok because she was barely a mother.
Mother’s day is for those moms who don’t stop loving their child. Those who work hard to provide the best life they possibly can to their children.
Happy mothers day to those moms, not mine.

3

Nana is a big deal around these parts.
As all villages must have a witch, the countrysides around must have fae. It’s the natural order and Nana keeps her fellows in check.
 She knows everyone and everyone knows her, fae or not. she knows more of other peoples business than she ought to, but this is for the best, really. She just likes to help, even if people don’t realise they have a problem yet.
  Its for this reason that she has so many children, and of so many different species and races. She just picks them up, the orphans, the abused, the unwanted and they become part of the clan. She would never steal a child from a happy home, bless my soul no.
Anyway, stealing is such a ugly word.
Nana would say she’s just helping.

She also has many of her own flesh and blood, but all but one have left home. her last child Breen has stayed home to bear the brunt of her mothering. She can be a bit overbearing at times, especially when his love life is brought up, but he loves her dearly and helps haul the produce for her stall in the village. Breen is a good boy for his mama.

nana belongs to me and @may12324

hey kids I just want to remind people that of you have a friend / child with delusions, don’t encourage them- jokingly or not.
My main delusion is that I can see the future and I’ve told my psychologist, only to have her reply “ha ha, maybe you can!” Which, let me tell you, made the next few days MUCH worse. When I told my mother, she joked that I should “remember to buy her a lottery ticket!” which had about the same effect.
Don’t encourage people’s delusions. Don’t give wake-up calls unless asked to, but DON’T encourage the delusions.

BTS REACTION: Looking like their kid

Rap Monster“You know what they say, like father like son but with his mothers beautiful eyes.”

*baby smiles and hugs you.*

“See! I wasn’t kidding! He really is like me!” 

Suga“Babe, don’t be upset. He may look like me but he’s a mama’s boy.”

*Blushes*

“He also takes after me cause we both seem to really like you.” 

Jin“She’s beautiful.. Really takes after her father.” *Smirks*

*Rolls eyes*

“Let’s hope she doesn’t have her mothers attitude though.*

J-Hope: “She may look like me but in my opinion, she is way prettier than I will ever be. After all, WE did make this beautiful thing.” 

~I hope she has her fathers humility as well~

“She’s going to be the best damn thing this world as to OFFER!!!!”

Taehyung: “I don’t see it.” 

~look! Same cute smile and everything! How can you not see it?~

“….the child is obviously cuter than I am y/n.” 

Jimin: “At least we know he’s going to grow up hot.” 

*You glare in his direction.*

“I mean he was always going to be like that?” *Nervously laughs*

Jungkook: *Always taking selfies with your child* “Look babe! It’s little me?” *Uses the swaping face filter.* “LOOK!” 

*You shake your head at the childish boy*

“You find this funny too admit it.”

What they said

 “You don’t need equal rights, you already have more rights than everyone,” said my father, after he openly said he wouldn’t hire a gay worker, not even me, his daughter.

“You don’t deserve to have kids,” said my mother, who couldn’t understand why the words she said made me cry. “A child deserves a mother and a father, and two queers like you could never raise a child.”

“But she doesn’t look like a lesbian,” said my aunt, the one family member I thought might defend me.

“Where did we go wrong,” asked my parents, as if there was something wrong with me. “We thought we raised you better than this.”

“You’re just confused,” said my father. “Therapy can help you figure out your feelings.”

“She goes to the University of Minnesota,” said my relatives, “what did they expect, her to come out normal?”

“Do you know where people like you go when you die?” asked my brother, who wouldn’t look me in the eye. “Do you want to go to hell?”

“You should be careful,” said my mother, when I told her I was going out. “Because do you know where you’ll go if you die today?”

“All transgender people should just be shot,” said my mother, “just like the queer people they are.”

“You need a mental examination,” was the reaction of my parents, after they first found out. “You ought to be ashamed of yourself.”

“I’ve met a lot of lesbians,” said my cousin, the girl I once considered my best  friend, “but she just doesn’t give off the vibe.”

“She’s going to regret this when she’s older,” said another relative, after I came out on facebook. “She is ruining hope of having a normal life.”

“I love you,” said my good friend, crying like I had told her something bad. “But you know I can’t accept that lifestyle.”

“We’re praying for you,” said everyone, as if I had said I was sick.

“I am so glad you’re over that,” said my mother as I was finding out what heartbreak meant. “Now you need to date a nice boy.”

“I think she’s over that stage,” my mother told my aunt after.

“You are messed up,” was a text I got from my mother while I was attending the Women’s March.

“All that is is a march of a bunch of queers.” She spit out the last word, said it like it tasted as bad as I felt when I heard it.

“I just thought you had better morals than that,” said my mom. “You really have no morals to be doing that.”

“It’s just gross,” they said. “How can a woman love another woman? Something is wrong in your head if you think that’s okay.”

Gross, disgusting, immoral, unspeakable, sickening, shameful, horrid, dyke, queer.

“Don’t tell anyone, ever,” said my mother, ashamed of her daughter.

“We can never accept or condone your behavior,” said my father. “Having this around will influence everyone in the family.”

“You’re heading down a slippery slope,” said my mother. “If that’s how you want to live your life, go ahead. But the only thing that waits for you is drugs and alcohol, because you’ll need it to live with yourself.”

“I just can’t stand her,” said my mother to my sister.

“The last the we want to do is push you away, but we have other kids to think about,” said my mother, because obviously the other kids are more important than me.

“You are nothing but a queer,” said my mother, to my face.

“And we will never,” said my mother, “accept you or your lifestyle choice.”

fic i probably should write

Luke dies in his fight with the Emperor before Vader has a chance to save him.

This breaks Vader, to the point where he just fucking leaves the Empire and goes off to find Leia “there is another” Organa and what remains of the Rebellion. 

And he shows up on Leia’s doorstep, to which Leia shoots him immediately. “Okay that’s fair,” he says, wheezing and holding his wired shoulder in pain.

“What do you want?” she says, this time aiming the blaster at his head. “Answer quickly.”

He tosses her Luke’s lightsaber. “This should belong to you. He would want you to have it.” He coughs, “And I want to join the Rebellion.”

Leia lowers her gun very carefully. “Explain.”

“What is there to explain?” Vader stands fully, towering over Leia. “He killed my son. I want the Emperor dead. At this point, I no longer care what government replaces him so long as the man who murdered my son is dead.”

Leia thinks I can work with that.

So you have Leia here steadfastly ignoring Obi-Wan and Yoda’s ghosts who follow her around spouting Jedi nonsense, of which she refuses to listen to unless they let her talk to Luke, who instead turns to Darth Vader to learn the ways of the Force. “Lost, all hope is” except it isn’t.

Because you have Darth “Probably Not A Dark Sider Anymore But Also Wouldn’t Call Him a Jedi” Vader and Leia “Anger Is My Middle Name But I’m Also Firmly In the Light” Organa teaming up and wrecking havok on literally everything. Seriously, there are whole planets on fire.

Vader teaches Leia the Force, and they never bring up the fact that they are related if they can help it (which means, inevitably, that they end up talking about it occasionally: “You look like your mother,” “…What was she like?” v. “I see now why Obi-Wan didn’t train you. You couldn’t be more my daughter if you tried. Poor Bail…I can only imagine what you were like as a child.” with Leia sputtering “HOW DARE”).

 meanwhile Han Solo is following them holding a baby Ben (who, I imagine, is now named Luke) going “guys? guys? i don’t understand. why is darth vader here. leia why haven’t you shot him. leia can I shoot him? leia we should probably not set this planet on fir–okay, so we’re setting this place on fire. cool cool cool”

in the afterlife, Obi-Wan and Yoda are mourning about how ALL IS LOST while Padme and Luke are drinking mimosas and laughing because they knew there was good there all along.