I'm not sure if I'm being mocked by my siblings or if they are doing as my step mum occasionally does and "joining" me in stimming. It's hard to interpret and now I'm confused because now the youngest child of this household flaps like I do. It's confusing. As a matter of fact, she copies many of my behaviours, including the strong love for birds. And I'm becoming concerned that my family will become angry with me. What do I do?
It’s pretty common for younger siblings to look up to older siblings and copy them, so she may just be copying you because that’s what younger siblings do. It’s also possible she’s autistic so she’s copying you and also likes doing it.
(I know I did that with my older brother- and also thought he was the coolest and he made all his special interests interesting. If she genuinely seems to be enjoying it, engage her with it and don’t discourage her. She may or may not grow out of it depending on how old she is and whether or not she’s autistic, but forming a positive opinion of stimming in her mind is a good thing.)
As for telling whether or not people are mocking you or joining you in it, if you start doing it first and they join you AND engage with you, and generally seem to not make any negative comments about it to other people or when they think you can’t hear them, it’s likely they’re joining you.
Since you mentioned your step-mom joins you sometimes, I’d suggest asking her about it and also bringing up your youngest sibling with her since she may be able to tell you what your siblings are doing. And, since you are worried about getting in trouble fr it, bringing it up now can hopefully clear up any confusion or head off any ableism from them.
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.
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.”
-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.
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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.
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).
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.
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.
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.
“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.”
“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.”