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Silence....☀️

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Go Go Loser Ranger chapter spoiler art ahead!

These last two chapters have fed me so well 😭👏

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Jelly bean

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that freaking stupid summer festival episode of charisma house makes me cry every. time. every time. it squeezes my heart in one fist until the juices run between its fingers.

so like. i have ocd.

ive had ocd for a really, really long time. my parents didnt know what it was. i didnt know what it was. even as i got older and learned more about mental illnesses, i didn't think "oh... that might be me." and part of the reason for that is, um, u know how ocd usually gets portrayed in media? obsessive hand washing, organizing, etc etc etc. i dont have that ocd.

i have scrupulosity.

i have be good. i have be. good. i have down on my knees for hours at a time praying for forgiveness. i have oh mom i dont think i can wear this shirt. it goes down too low. it is immodest. (it sat just below my collarbone). i have i do genuinely believe that it is genuinely morally wrong to throw away anything that is recyclable because that is hurting the planet and i still do it sometimes but like if i think about it im like oh yeah that was a morally bad thing for me to throw away that recyclable plastic cup and it makes me uncomfortable. i have BE. GOOD. BE GOOD. BE GOOD.

that is my ocd. that is my brain.

i have, as one might say, an obsessive need for perfect, law-abiding order.

i am, as one might say, kusanagi rikai.

but im not. not really. i dont yell at other people to follow my brains own rules. i am not as loud as he is. i am not as pushy. i am more of a quiet, anxious, desperate, so burnt-out from so many years of intense moral perfection in my mind that i barely care anymore, type of scrupulosity.

and rikai is loud.

but god. that one episode. number seventy-two.

i pulled it up to reference the dialogue and im already feeling it.

this episode expresses an aspect of my ocd my brain my scrupulosity the thing that has ruined my entire life and stolen my childhood from me it expresses such a deep and gutting aspect of it that i barely knew how to articulate. i dont know how they did this. i dont know if rikai is supposed to actually have ocd like mine. i dont know if they just imagined what it would be like to live as rikai and i do or if someone in that writing room has personal experience with this. i dont know. all i know is rikai in this episode is

me.

because he is looking around at the festival. stunned. how are people doing these things and enjoying it? how are they eating unsanitary food? how are they letting themselves get ripped off at raffles?

and then, quietly, he says,

"this is... normal, huh. yes, this is normal...

i do realize that i'm the crazy one here. right?"

and i start crying.

its so simple. "i do realize that im the crazy one here." his voice soft and resigned.

because my entire life i have been staring around myself with wild eyes. "why is everyone so bad? why are they doing these things? why dont they see what i see? why do i understand what they dont? why dont they understand? why is everyone leaving things half-done and dirty and taking shortcuts and being unsanitary and devious and why am i the only one who understands how to be good? why does no one else see?"

and now i realize oh. i see.

im just crazy. i just have a malfunctioning brain.

everything i see as good, and common sense, and necessary, is actually unusual and uncomfortable and unwelcome levels of. order.

everything i see around me is normal. theyre not the ones who are doing things wrong.

im just crazy.

and its so. so. isolating. and its so. so. frustrating. why is everyone else... normal?

i do realize im the crazy one here.

and its such a simple scene. and its such a simple line.

but when i watched that drama track for the first time i had to set my phone down. i felt so seen. so heard. so understood. i cried. its such a deep, isolating feeling. to look around yourself and see nothing but unlawful chaos and then to know that you are the broken one. that this all is normal. youre just wrong. youre right, objectively - that food is unhygienic, and people would be better off spending their money on things that are not rigged raffles - but no matter how right you are in theory, in practice, that means absolutely nothing.

youre just crazy.

the odd man out forever. you can never be normal.

its okay, rikai. try your best to eat something with unwashed hands.

hopefully it wont make you sick.

hopefully. its worth it, right? to act normal.

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its so scary to put yourself out there but a SINGLE message saying "hi i loved what you made it touched me in some way" makes it all worth it 10000%

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i open tumblr. i close tumblr. i check discord. i open tumblr. i close tumblr. i open spotify. start a song. open youtube. pick video, ending song. video bad. i close youtube. i open tumblr

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MORE HEKIRU.

this is about him getting his cartridge - unless im dumb and missed it i dont think they ever addressed this in the canon text? so i just made something up. and if they did go over getting cartridges in the canon text and i just missed it then um this is just an au where u get cartridges like this. lol.

~~~

the cartridges had been lined up neat on the tabletop.

“choose the one that draws you to it,” the ranger overseeing him had said. she nodded towards the table, towards the thick cartridges that covered it. they looked bulky. they sat heavy in his hands.

he brushed his fingers over a few before finally settling on one in the middle of the back row. it looked kind of lonely. it made his heart sink.

“okay,” the ranger said. “good. now – see the slot at the back of your artifact?”

they’d pushed the artifact into his arms. he was afraid of it. his brain filled with pictures of himself dropping it. shattering it.

he glanced at the back of the artifact. there it was. he nodded.

“alright. it’s pretty simple. just – click it in.”

his hands shook. the other rangers watched, interested. what would it be? the spare cartridges had been thrown together into a pile and then lined up at random. what power would this nervous boy hold?

the cartridge snapped into place. they held their breaths.

the divine artifact was quiet for a moment, still and colorless.

hekiru’s heart pounded. maybe it wouldn’t work. maybe he had grabbed the one defective cartridge. maybe he was just so bad at all of this that there was something about him that would render any divine power useless.

then the artifact glowed.

the rangers cheered.

it glowed a deep blue, its tendons almost coming alive as they hummed and stretched. hekiru clenched his fists around the handle. one at the base of the blade, the other steady in the middle. he was not going to drop this thing, no matter what it did.

the artifact started to melt in his hands.

he sucked in a yelp and almost yanked his hands back to let the artifact clatter to the floor. it was melting. would it melt him??

but then he pictured the blue keeper himself shaking his head over the broken artifact. he pictured that scarred face turning to yell at him. can’t even hold a simple stick for a full five minutes, can you? you incompetent freak. you failure.

hekiru trembled. he held the artifact tighter. if it melts his hands off of his body, so be it. he will be renowned as a martyr. sacrificed his hands for the ranger cause, for the good of the people. maybe he’ll never need to actually see combat.

the thought lightened his chest a little bit. he held the scythe as tightly as he could.

“heyy,” the ranger said, impressed. “oh, nice. no one’s grabbed this one in a while.”

“w-what does it do?”

hekiru stared at the divine artifact as it dripped and oozed. the acid rolled in heavy droplets off of the sides.

“it’s a powerful solvent. eats through just about anything.”

hekiru, stunned, watched as the droplets pooled on the floor. they hissed as they ate through the concrete, leaving little dents behind.

“wow,” he mumbled.

“very powerful. very cool.”

his eyes fell back to the dripping acid on the artifact itself. it was running down the length of the scythe’s handle onto his arm, he noted.

onto his arm.

his eyes widened in shock and horror at the sight of it. the feel of it. he recoiled, choking on his own spit. his arm was going to burn off. his arm was going to burn off.

he squeezed his eyes tight.

but there was nothing. no burning. no scent of roasting flesh.

he carefully peeked at his arm.

no burning.

instead, the droplets had continued their descent. they ran down the length of his forearm and oozed off at the elbow.

his entire body, hekiru realized, was dripping. just like the artifact. they were one and the same. he was melting, too.

he stood still. he could feel it, he noticed, now that he knew to pay attention. he could feel the gloopy droplets beading up on his skin. he could feel them rolling down his sides and collecting at his fingertips until they dripped off.

the ranger said something else. hekiru couldn’t hear her. his heart was thudding and his blood ran quick through his ears.

he shifted the scythe and watched the droplets swerve with it.

he could use this. he could burn things. he could melt anything that tried to block his path. he could clear his way with this power. he saw his future, for a moment: fresh and bright. nothing could stop him anymore.

his chest heaved. he laughed.

the ranger smiled at him.

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i wrote an interactive poem for my girlfriend in 3 parts. she said you need to read it.

go here: take only the final quiz or take all 3. i don't mind. it's sad, though. this is a poem about choice. about fate and mental illness and how love fits inside of all of it. this is a poem about a long dark hallway. mostly this is a poem about mango sushi rolls.

good luck. i love you. despite it all, i'm hopeful.

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amethio pokemon save me. save me please

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mental health thingiess under here

im wrong but not wrong enough. broken but not broken enough.

i went over it like a parrot with one sentence in its arsenal, wringing my hands on an armchair across from my patient therapist and his quiet eyes.

"it doesnt feel right," i told him. "i shouldn't be here. i shouldn't be taking these pills. im not sick enough. im not. im sick but not enough."

and he said, does that really invalidate what you go through? and i said, i guess not.

but even so. even so.

even so, im always stuck in the middle. im nervous but ive never drowned in it. i just sit in lukewarm water. i hate myself but its never folded over me like a shroud. i just cant meet my eyes in old photographs. i discovered i can ignore the drive for my obsessive rituals. my raads-r score fell within five points of the lowest possible edge of the spectrum. right on the border.

right. on. the. border.

stuck in the middle.

if i sit with the "normals" i stick out like a rusty nail jutting from the floorboards. what is wrong with me? i curl my shoulders and try not to speak. don't look at me. if you look at me you'll know how much is wrong with me. if i open my mouth the whole room will wince.

but if i sit with the "others" i stick out like a rusty nail jutting from the floorboards. i can brush my fingers over every experience you relate to me but i can't hold them in my hands. sorry. im not quite like you. sorry. sorry. sorry.

cursed. cursed. i think ive always been cursed. my brain warped itself when i was a child but it didn't warp itself enough. it said, you will have your tender years eaten up by your own mind and then it will straighten out somewhat and you will not know how to live. you will not fit in anywhere, with anyone, ever. you will never fit in anywhere, with anyone, ever. ever. ever.

not sick enough. not sick enough. isn't that a disgusting thing to say?

i just want to be able to sit down somewhere without feeling like i need to rip myself down the middle. i just want to sit down.

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Happy Halloween!!

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yttdisms now im moved in

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He is so pretty 😭😭

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your turn to die be upon ye

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drawing ib art in 2024 because i want to

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i reward myself for not oversharing serious things by oversharing ten other smaller things