Emergency Commissions: OPEN

My drawing tablet died in the most inconvenient moment of deadlines, so I need to get a replacement ASAP. I can still work on my Ipad, but there´s many things I do that require my tablet because of the programs I can only use in my computer.

It´s alright if you can´t commission or support! Reblogs, shares and recommendations are always, always welcome. 

You can also support me through Ko-fi!

https://ko-fi.com/piamio

Last stretch!!!

GUYYYYSSSS

We made it!!!

WE ACTUALLY MADE IT!!

Now the only thing is to order it and possibly next week I will finally be able to work normally!!

I can’t thank you enough for all the signal boosting, commissioning, donations, etc. All support is greatly appreciated and on times of crisis is even tripled appreciated.

Thank you so much! 💕 💕 💕

IMPORTANT! My commissions will remain open but will go back to original pricing. Commissioners still waiting for theirs don’t have to worry about pricing as they were requested during the emergency commission timeframe. If unsure, please do send me an email so we can clear up any question and doubt.

Master was very poor. 

It was a secret the two of them shared, for neither liked to mention it. Master was making the best of a bad situation, and the last thing it wanted was to make that harder. Still it was a pity, and Pet was making sure to make it as easy as possible so Master would not find anything lacking, regardless. 

Still, it was a harsh change to get used to. Master couldn’t afford chains: the only restraint available in the household was a large, soft piece of fabric Master would wrap around it on occasion, especially during the evenings. Whenever this happened, Pet would make sure to stay extra still, so it wouldn’t fall off. This was because Master didn’t seem to know how to tie any knots, but that was O.K. Pet didn’t need them to be restrained, to hold still. It already knew what Master was asking of it. 

A harder adjustment for Pet to make was its lack of a room. Master’s house was too small to hold an attic or a cellar, and every closet needed to be stuffed with clothes and boxes, no room for it. There was no cage either, no hooks on the wall to attach leashes, not even so much as a simple collar. Instead, Pet was left to sleep on the couch, where it was high up and isolated, but not hard or cold enough to enforce any real discipline. It had tried to remedy this the first few days by sleeping on the floor, but Master hadn’t liked that. Of course, of course, it should have known. It should have known better than to assume it knew more or knew better than Master. Poor Master was probably ashamed that this was the best he could offer, and Pet’s job was to ease those fears. Because it was enough, anything they had was enough for it; there was no other choice. 

Mealtimes where also a point of pity. Master had only the means to cook one meal, and both he and Pet ate the same fare. That made sense; Previous Master had always complained about how expensive pet food was getting, and as such its rations were always cut severely. If Pet could have opinions…it liked this way better. This way they both had enough to eat, and all Master had to give up was his pride. That was…less good. Pet didn’t like the idea of Master having to give up anything, especially not for the sake of it.

 But Master had lived this way long enough to not seem to care; nothing phased him. He would smile and laugh as he ate, and hum while he cooked. He didn’t seem to care that he didn’t have the right tools to properly house a pet. Pet tried not to care either. 

But sometimes, it was just so hard! No whips, no canes, no shock collars… And anything that did lie around the house like broom handles or belts were so few and far between that it was probably not worth it to get its filthy blood on them and have to wash it off later. Master didn’t have the right gloves to hit it with either, and any discipline used was only a stern tone of voice. Sometimes Pet wondered if that was truly enough. Was Master happy, only being able to punish it like that? Compared to everything else Master could do to it if he had the right funds, it seemed very boring. But that was only Pet’s thoughts, and it already knew that its thoughts were worth less than Pet itself. Master was poor, that was it. Too poor to afford rage, or hate, or harshness. Probably because if Pet got hurt, it would be too expensive to replace. 

But still, late at night, when Pet couldn’t sleep, it would try to understand Master, even though such thinking was probably too hard for it. Still it tried. Because there was one thing that didn’t make sense, no matter how hard it pondered. 

…If Master was so poor, why didn’t it sell off Pet to make more money? 

@wolfeyedwitch @cupcakes-and-pain @extemporary-username look this thing

Is there a taglist for this and can I be on it?

I can’t resist…

He didn’t know why Pet acted this way. To be fair, he had precious little time to do any research prior. His city had all but dumped him on his doorstep the second he signed up to be a volunteer. He hadn’t realized that this was what that meant.

Pet always stiffened up when he wrapped a blanket around his shoulders, like he wasn’t allowed to touch it. He’d tried handing it to him, letting him wrap it around himself on his own, but it didn’t seem to quite…click.

His next idea was to try a sweatshirt instead. That might make it easier to understand.

It was always a shot in the dark, what would make sense to Pet or not. He started keeping a notebook of their bizarre interactions, so hopefully he could find a pattern eventually.

Sleeping on the couch was probably the most success he had made, and even that was rather shoddy. Pet had offered to sleep in the attic or basement, but seemed terrified at the idea of sleeping on the couch. He’d told him honestly that he didn’t have a basement, nor an attic that could be used to sleep in.

It seemed like that made him even more desperate to show how little space he could take up, because his next suggestion was a closet. He went around and showed Pet all the closets in the house, all far too small to lay down in.

Still, that night, he found Pet curled up at the bottom of the smallest one, swearing there was room. He’ll admit, he lost his temper for only half a second.

He ordered Pet out, and to sleep in the living room. As he scrambled to obey, he caught himself, apologizing and offering a bullshit excuse that there would be boxes that needed to go in there. (He pulled out all the empty cardboard boxes he could find out of the recycling and filled each closet to the brim that night while Pet slept)

Pet then tried to sleep on the floor, which completely blew any previous theories out of the water. He had thought that Pet had wanted to be hidden and out of sight, but if that were the case, he would have at least taken the back of the couch over nothing, right?

Again, he slipped up a bit, speaking far too sternly to someone already so easily frightened, but now at least he was sleeping on the couch.

He had bought an air mattress, but until he could figure out what sleeping conditions Pet was seeking, he’d wait a minute. It was easier to try new things when Pet had had at least a few hours of good sleep.

Food was another one that he had made more progress on. It seemed like he expect to be forced to eat on the floor, but accepted the chair a bit easier once he suggested that the floor wasn’t sanitary to eat off. He had also seemed surprised to be given food, and triple checked that he was allowed to eat it.

But he had eventually accepted it, thankfully, and now meals were a decently easy routine, if not for the odd feeling he still had that he was missing something. There had to be a pattern, but he still couldn’t figure out what it might be…

It seemed like both were dancing around the other, cautious of any misstep. But they would get there. Eventually. Hopefully.

Ease up with the Loathing, writers & artists.

The following is going to make most people pronounce me a gigantically self important JERK, because apparently that’s the kneejerk reaction to anyone who doesn’t loathe and depreciate their work constantly

And it’s not addressed to anyone in particular nor is it a “callout” or a start for Drama,

BUT

I do in all frankness have a good gauge of what level of skill I am at with my own writing, the direction I want to go for my style, and where I need to keep improving. Not knowing what I can do would be extremely silly of me. I can see that in some ways I’ve grown a lot and I do pretty decent work. I think some of it is brilliant. I wrote it because I LIKE it. Someday, I hope more of it will be brilliant, if I work on it.

 And I say that

 not because I “brag”

but because I have to keep restating it to myself in the face of the problem whumpblr/writblr has got.

Y’all have GOT to stop constantly loathing yourselves and your work! It’s self-fulfilling, serves no purpose, and you cannot abuse yourself into confidence!

This is so damn prevalent, saturated, that I started to pick it up, when I’d never had much of a problem with it before! I began to doubt my own work, to wonder if secretly lots of people hated it if they hated their own comparable work so much. I began to wonder if I *should* hate my own work and doubt and second-guess and loathe the things I made, that I enjoyed so much.

 I’ve always been pretty happy with things I make, but now I have to restate that fact over and over to myself, or catch whatever it is that leads people to project their inner turmoil onto their work and insult it constantly.

 I’m not saying you can’t have struggles, heaven knows I’ve had more than few, I’m saying I would very much appreciate if people would quit with all this almost-constant unnecessary self deprecation.

It doesn’t make you polite. It doesn’t make you more moral. It doesn’t make you sound humble. And it doesn’t encourage you or other writers. It tears us all down. You and everyone who likes your stuff. “Oh this is garbage, I hate my writing, it’s all trash”  STAAAAAAAAAHP!

If not for the sake of your own view of yourself, stop so that you quit insulting the taste of those who like your work.

YOU! CANNOT! ABUSE! YOURSELF! INTO! CONFIDENCE!

Try maybe saying, instead of “Oh you will all hate this and it’s such garbage” say maybe “This is what I wrote yesterday, I feel a little insecure about some of it but I like other bits, and I can’t resist that one trope. thanks for reading!”

/end old fart rant

Thank you Bee. It’s refreshing to hear there’s no should. I think it’s as you say, feeling guilty for not being doing what I was supposed to be doing. The fact I worked so hard to get the opportunity to study and ended up ditching it, is a deep stab in my psyche.

I was going through a very, very hard time when I entered uni, so I thought accomplishing one of my dreams would slowly help with that. Maybe I’ve been dragging burnout since then and not since I dropped out ahaha.

Nobody tells me it will be fine, because right now I’m not that active, so thanks for reminding me things can go well with time, even if I’m not doing what I’m “supposed” to right now. That really means a lot 💗

If you are a mentally ill person who struggles with violent urges, impulse control, disassociation, anger control, psychosis, or other stigmatized and demonized conditions you are so fucking important and you matter and your needs matter and you deserve better

💗 pathetic bastard man is a description I never thought Robert would fit that perfectly and I adore you for enlightening me

Helping Your Loved One With Flashbacks

This is a continuation of my “Writing Characters with PTSD” series, or perhaps more aptly for this particular piece: writing a character who loves someone with PTSD. 

Mandatory disclaimer: I am not a mental health professional. I am, however, someone with PTSD who has and still sees multiple mental health professionals for PTSD. I’ve also done PTSD “self-help” reading, as well as read texts psychologists read for treating patients with PTSD. However, bear in mind that PTSD is largely variable and everyone experiences it differently. I have merely noticed that some people writing characters with PTSD who don’t have PTSD might have encountered a lack of information from the perspective of those who have PTSD, and am therefore creating resources to fill that void. 

Anyway, onwards!

So, first of all, if you know your loved one has PTSD, but have not yet witnessed a flashback: 

If you are witnessing someone experience a (non-Implicit/emotional flashback), and do not know what they specifically need, here are some Do’s and Don’t’s: 

DON’T: 

DO:

If you are witnessing someone experience an Implicit (aka emotional) flashback, you may think that their emotions are wholly inappropriate for the situation and be inclined to brush it off and/or get angry. But, if someone’s emotions seem inappropriate for the situation, especially if you know they have PTSD (and especially PTSD resulting from long term situations, something sometimes called C-PTSD, there are a few things to do that can make you both feel better:

Finally, the most important thing you can do for any kind of flashback: realize that the flashback itself is not intended to make you feel bad! It’s really not about you, even if someone lashes out while having a flashback. There needs to be some responsibility for actions, but there also needs to be understanding that individuals experiencing flashbacks are often not in control, and therefore lashing out is not a conscious choice, but a symptom. Individuals in most cases will feel guilty and seek to make amends, but helping them be responsible is not the same as blaming them. Responsibility is “you hurt me, how can we ensure we both feel better if/when this happens again” and receiving an apology. Blame is “I can’t believe you’re like this. You just make me feel terrible.” (And yes, statements like blame do happen. A lot.) 

TL;DR: 

Some people feel like self harming or are suicidal after flashbacks. If they tell you they are going to hurt themselves or someone else, you should absolutely intervene. If they say they want to, without indicating a plan to, don’t go overboard on fussing; let them know it’s okay to feel suicidal or like they want to hurt themselves, so long as there isn’t intent to harm and make a plan for if the feelings get to the point of planning. It’s like their brain has a backseat driver who’s really pushy. Sometimes they feel like they should listen to those instructions but that doesn’t mean they will, and the last thing they need is to fear like they can’t talk about the feelings. Letting them talk about it without judgement from you may actually make it less likely for them to take action.

As always, if you have questions or want to know more, please don’t hesitate to reach out! I am always willing to talk, regardless of if you’re someone without PTSD who is seeking to more accurately portray it, someone who has a friend or loved one with PTSD who wants to know how to talk to them about it, or someone who has PTSD who these pieces maybe help feel less alone. 💜

In case yall need some cheering up or a place to relax. Feel free to stay on this post as long as u like. Love ya♡