#I'm tired help me

[biscuithoney]

The sillies!

They know Zane, they know...

Based on an interaction between me and my friends.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Learning to celebrate the little wins!

[duckyjokes]

Something I need people to understand, especially able-bodied people but I've gotten this from other disabled folk as well, is that yeah I could be doing more, but oftentimes I have to choose between doing what's required of me and what's good for me.

Yeah, I probably could get all of my schoolwork done no problem, but I'm so exhausted after just going to school that doing anything more than lying in bed for a few hours would cost me. Can I physically get up? Yeah, I do when my parents demand it of me, but it's not good for me.

I've tried doing more, I've tried pushing myself to do the things that I need to get done, it just doesn't work. I'll just be even more exhausted, I'll just be in more pain, and it's not fair.

Please stop reminding me of my "potential". Please stop telling me that I'm "not trying my hardest". I know that. Sometimes my hardest is hard on me.

[thevioletcaptain]

i genuinely don't care how good a piece of ai generated art or writing looks on the surface. i don't care if it emulates brush strokes and metaphor in a way indistinguishable from those created by a person.

it is not the product of thoughtful creation. it offers no insights into the creator's life or viewpoint. it has no connection to a moment in time or a place or an attitude. it has no perspective. it has no value.

it's empty, it's hollow, and it exists only to generate clicks (and by extension, ad revenue.)

it's just another revolting symptom of the disease that is late stage capitalism, and it fucking sucks.

[uncanny-tranny]

I recently had to do a project in one of my psych classes, and man, I knew that CBT was used for every little thing, but seeing over and over, "do CBT! CBT is the best for every mental illness!" was so jarring. I'm absolutely biased because of my own experiences, but I just don't think it's as universal a treatment model as it's touted.

If you didn't benefit from CBT, it's not because you're lazy or didn't try hard enough or lacked intelligence or foresight into your own needs. Frankly, it's a therapy model that (I think) shouldn't be the only readily-accessible model and among the only therapy models covered by insurance. Some of us should not be treated in a CBT model and that's okay. It's not a sign of poor character or unreasonable demands, and if you don't think it's a model that works for you, then it's your right to express that!

[xensitshere]

part 1

(for now)

i had this idea and it was bugging me for days

so i decided to make a small comic

at first it was going ok, it was just a sketch and i was going to leave it as one.... but then something went wrong and now i have those 3 pages in full color....

so yeah, take this

consider this an au i will be thinking about for the next few days

it's a bit stupid and made for my own heart and enjoyment

if i'm lucky i'll make a few more pages or at least small drawings

if not.... we'll see i guess

[ultravioletbrit]

“hold” - Jegulus microfic - @into-the-jeggyverse - 488 words

this, but make it jegulus (i tried to get it as close to the original as possible)

Remus is sitting in an armchair doubled over with laughter. Sirius has fallen out of his chair and is cackling on the floor with tears in his eyes from laughing so hard. Regulus is sitting on the couch trying his best to stay composed. And James in standing in the middle of the room with more passion and fire in his eyes than Regulus has ever seen.

“Hold on! Hold on! Hold on!” James is shouting.

“James—” Regulus tries to calmly interrupt.

“HOLD ON!” James looks pointedly at Regulus and his eyes look like they’re going to literally pop out of his head. “Her sister was a witch, right?” Regulus is trying so hard to hold back his laughter. “And what was her sister? A princess! The Wicked Witch of the East, Reg.” James is yelling, not unkindly just very passionately, looking directly at Regulus and nodding his head aggressively to emphasize every point.

James starts pacing in genuine distress. Sirius is rolling on the floor holding his stomach and laughing so hard his entire body is shaking. Remus has his hands over his mouth, which is doing absolutely nothing to contain his laughter.

Regulus stands up to meet James in the middle of the room. “I’m gonna stab him.” He mumbles under his breath, which makes Sirius laugh even harder—if that’s even possible.

James whips around to face Regulus. “You’re gonna looks at me and you’re gonna tell me that I’m wrong? Am I wrong?” James asks emphatically.

And the thing is—James is, in fact, very wrong. “It’s my favorite—” Regulus tries to interject but can’t even get a word in.

“She wore a crown, and she came down in a bubble, Reg!” And that proves absolutely nothing.

Regulus knows he’ll never get James to listen to him. “I’m not fighting with you.” He shakes his head, chuckling fondly.

James makes his way out of the living room. “Grow up!” He says over his shoulder.

“I’m not fighting with you.” Regulus says again.

“Grow up.” James seems to be losing steam as he leaves the room.

“Get educated!” Regulus yells then flops down on the couch and finally lets his laughter out.

Eventually Regulus, Sirius and Remus’ laugher fades into soft chuckles as they calm down and take several deep breaths to compose themselves.  

It’s a few minutes later when James appears in the doorway with a sheepish look on his face—that Regulus thinks is adorable. He slowly makes his way over to the couch and sits down beside Regulus. He’s quiet for a few moments then turns slightly to look at Regulus.   

“I’m not really mad.” James says in a small voice. “And you know I love you, right?”

Regulus chuckles fondly and takes James’ face in his hands. “Yes, I know you love me, Jamie.” He leans in to kiss James softly then pulls back the tiniest bit. “But you’re still wrong.” Regulus whispers against James lips.    

[lukazade]

These kids are NOT studying rn

[mamawasatesttube]

the timkon fans who shit on bart are annoying, the konbart fans who shit on tim are annoying, and i don't actually know if there are timbart fans who shit on kon, but i sure hope not, because they'd be annoying. the three of them are a set!!! do NOT separate. red tornado literally assigned them one shared brain cell. what is not clickign

[sunlit-mess]

I can only take so much, but lately, they have replaced my reflection. And realize I'm just as bad as them.

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 115

“Seriously old man?” the rumbling voice nearly caused Tim to jump, his eyes darting away from where Ras was sitting, the Al Ghul almost seeming to perk. It was kind of hard to miss the man… teen… being? It was kind of hard to miss the owner of the voice what with how their hair looked like it was on fire. 

They motioned around at well, everything, crimson eyes looking exasperated. “Really?” They were definitely motioning towards him, interrupting Ras when he opened his mouth to talk. “No, I don’t want to hear it, I swear- Did he kidnap you?” That was definitely aimed at him. 

“N-no?” Tim was feeling slightly unbalanced and may be on hour sixty without sleep at this point, if the hour long nap was counted. “I need help finding my not-dad who's lost in time.” 

The being let out a strangled noise that Tim could nearly swear was almost another one, but couldn’t vocalize his slurred thoughts as the dude muttered something, motioning around as though he was tempted to strangle something or someone. 

Ras cleared his throat, looking almost awkward which was how Tim knew he had to be dreaming or drugged. Probably drugged. “Jordan, how good to see you, it’s been so long-”

“Can it Pops,” the being-named-Jordan scoffed, finger pointing towards the Demon’s Head. “Moms still pissed and isn’t coming back any time soon with you still pulling this shit.” 

Tim felt his brain stall, process for a moment, then process some more over what he just heard before his mouth ran before it could catch up. “Ras is married???” 

[royalarchivist]

Pac: This is the new me, ok? I want you to welcome... the new Pac! [...] This skin is really cool, I think I'm gonna use this more often.

Himaru: ...What happened to you, man? Did you get run over? 😰

Pac: [Laughs] Don't judge me, don't judge me!

Being ugly in Arkanis is a crime, and unfortunately for all of us, Pac loves being a criminal. 😓

[ Full Subtitle Transcript ↓ ]

—

Pac: Guys– This is the new me, ok? I want you to welcome... the new Pac!

Pac: [Laughs]

[Pac gets kicked from the server with the message: "Change this"]

Pac: [Laughing] No! No! No– I won't change, I won't change, I won't change! I won't change! Let me- let me in! No no no– What a dictatorship– there can't be a dictatorship here, no– No, I won't change! [Stammers] I'm- I'm myself! I'm myself!

Pac: [Pinches his nose so he has a nasally voice] Hi friends, welcome to class. I'm going to talk like that, ok? I'll even turn off the facecam, because today, I'm going to– I'm kidding, no no no.

Pac: Man, this skin is really cool, it really is. I think that this– I'm gonna use this more often, man. [Reading chat] "Halloween is over" Guys, this– This is who I am now! Who I am– This is me now, I'm this person here.

[Red text appears on the screen saying "30 seconds to change"]

Pac: "30 seconds to change–" Hang on, what is this?! No– calma, what is–? Guys, for the love of god–

[Another warning appears saying "20 seconds to change"]

Pac: No!!! No! No no no! No no no! You can't do this! You can't do this here. You- you can't. You can't make me change my skin.

[A final warning appears saying "10 seconds to change"]

Pac: No– You can't, I won't take it off! I'm going to my class now, I have to go to class! This is my "studying" skin! I- I–

[Pac gets banned]

Pac: [Hits his desk]

Dono: The skinmakers in chat are crying, having heart attacks, collapsing. It's horrible, dude.

Pac: [Laughs] It's not that ugly, it's fine, it's good.

Himaru: [Long pause] ...What happened to you, man? Did you get run over?

Pac: [Laughs] Don't judge me, don't judge me! Ok? Look at- look at- look at JVNQ! He has a funny face too, but nobody says anything about it!

Himaru: No man, I'm not judging you, but– I just wor- I'm just worried! [...] Well for me, I'll be serious with you: it doesn't matter what's on the outside, ok? What matters is what's inside, got it?

Pac: Thank you. [He hugs Himaru] Do you think I'm poggers? Do you think I'm poggers? Say it.

Himaru: No Pac, it doesn't matter that you look ugly, ridiculous, like a truck reversed into you then ran you over, like someone hit you–

Milo: my god

Himaru: –like Anderson Silva crushed you in the ring– Hey, it doesn't matter! What matters is that your heart is beating.

JV: And you have a home!

Himaru: Understand? Give love to others, ok?

Pac: My god.

Milo: he was saving those insults

Himaru: And that's all, ok man? You can be at peace, ok? I won't- I won't judge you, I'll just... I'll just do one thing, man.

Pac: What are you doing?

Himaru: I'm just going to avoid eye contact, ok? But I'm still talking to you, I'm still listening, ok? I hear you.

Pac: ...I can't believe this.

[rawbin-hsr]

OMGGG Your latest smut fic is so amazing!!! The smut is absolutely delicious! but....the angst is breaking my heart so...could you please write a continuation or part two where the reader confronts Aventurine's dark internal thoughts and comforts them? A fic where they actually get him to believe that they love him for real, where they tell him that he's not a monster and that he wasn't ruining them.

You've got it ! (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

Aventurine x Reader

You treat Aventurine with more respect than he deserves. (Part 2)

Read part 1 here !

CW: dehumanisation (internal, thoughts Aventurine has of himself, referring to himself as a “monster”), lots of mentions of death, passively suicidal Aventurine, violent imagery (through metaphors, nobody is actually physically harmed), intrusive thoughts, Aventurine thinks kind of vicious things about you (refers to you as "stupid", "brainless", "naive" etc), cursing.

Lmk if there’s anything else I should warn about !!

Small note: Spoiler alert sorry, but you will not completely fix Aventurine in this fic. Making any real progress would take YEARS. The trauma he's gone through and his beliefs about his own humanity are EXTREMELY deep-seated, just one conversation would not be enough to make him truly believe he was loved. Super sorry since I'm sure that's not what you wanted (you specifically requested they "truly get him to believe that they love him for real", but this does still end on a hopeful note so I hope you won't be too disappointed (•ᴗ•,, ) )

Sometimes Aventurine gains enough clarity to remember where he stands. More importantly, he gains enough clarity to remember where you should stand. That is to say, as far away from him as possible. Unfortunately, you are never keen on doing that. 

In these moments of clarity, he distances himself. If you won’t do it, he has to. He needs to. He needs to even when he can feel the little pieces of him that you’ve managed to haphazardly glue together splinter into tiny shards again, even when it feels like every step away is a step walked on shattered glass. He can hardly be called a ‘person’ anyways, what does his suffering matter? He has already lost so many good things, why not add another loss to the tally?

He reads your texts, but he doesn’t respond. He hangs up on you the moment you call. By doing this, he makes sure you know he is alive. Both because he knows it would devastate you if you thought he died, but even more so to make sure you know he is intentionally ignoring you. He hopes at least some part of you hates him. He thinks part of him hates you.

But he can never stay away for long. Like a werewolf called by the full moon; like a vampire to blood; like a siren to a sailor. Thoughts of you always cloud his mind too much to do what is right. He reminds himself he will destroy you. He comes back anyways. He is too selfish not to. 

And you welcome him with open arms every time. Sure, sometimes you yell. Sometimes you berate him. Sometimes you cry. But he never does something beyond the bounds of what you’ll forgive, even though he tries to. You’re patient to a fault. Though he feels bad, he never takes it fully seriously, because you always hold him with so much sweetness, even when your words are filled with righteous anger and justified hurt. You always end it by reminding him that you love him. Something clenches in his chest; something that is not his heart, because he has none. He claims he is sorry, but you both know he will do this again. He always does. You know he will hurt you over and over, even if you don’t know the extent. You know he will test you, that he will ignore you, that he will cling to you and that he will taunt you. You don’t know he will drag his claws through you and tear you to ribbons; you don’t know he will sink his teeth into your neck and drink all your blood; you don’t know he will lure you to sea and drown you. You are never aware of the true danger you are in. 

Maybe that’s why you one day feel comfortable enough to corner the creature that has taken on the appearance of a lover. You sit down next to him in bed one evening after one of his many attempts to push you away, your expression grim. You look straight ahead, right into his dead eyes, unaware that a monster is towering over you. 

“We can’t go on like this,” you say. For one moment, the crushing relief and devastation threatens to consume him, and he’s not sure which of the feelings is stronger. For one moment he can’t breathe. 

He hacks our a laugh, his skin straining. Something is shifting beneath his flesh, something ugly and dangerous. He needs to leave and he needs to do it quickly. 

“You’re right, we can’t,” he agrees, his voice a lot more steady than he feels. He feels the urge to grab you and shake you until you pass out. He feels the urge to suck out your life force until your body is an empty husk. He feels the urge to slam your head into the bathroom sink in the next room over. He feels the urge to shoot himself in the head, because he does not want to do any of that. 

“I love you,” you say, unexpectedly. Or maybe it’s not unexpected. You always say such stupid, brainless things. (You say it with sweetness. The only sweetness he can offer in return is the sweetness of bacteria digesting rotting meat. Is the flesh his, or will it be yours?) He laughs again. 

“I thought we were breaking up,” he says. Smirking, as if it’s funny. (It isn’t.)

“No, we’re really not,” you say firmly. He snorts. 

“Maybe we should.”

You don’t answer. Instead, you come closer. 

Get away, he thinks. Run, you fucking idiot. 

You don’t have many flaws, but the ones you do have are insurmountably big. You are too forgiving, you are too kind, you are too selfless, you are too naive. You will kill yourself doing this one day. You will let him kill you.

Your arms wrap around him. He can’t help but relax. The thing lurking under his human disguise grows more restless. 

“I don’t hate you,” you say, unexpectedly. And this one really is unexpected, because what made you say that? Your arms squeeze around him tighter. “I thought I was being obvious enough about that, but you’re so bad at understanding it.”

The feeling he has is the same as the feeling he gets when he realises a deal is going awry. You are the highest risk stakes he has ever made a bet on: will he ruin you, or will you ruin him? What you could do to him is so much more serious than death. He knows that he is holding a losing hand. He doesn’t even know what he stands to win.

You kiss his neck. He shudders. 

“Why are you so scared of me?” you ask. 

Scared? He is not scared. What an outright laughable concept. Neither of you are scared, but if one of you was, it should be you, but you aren’t, for some reason.

“What gives you that idea?” he chuckles, but his voice is not as steady this time, and he can feel his smile slipping. (What is wrong with him? He doesn’t want to think about it. The answer is always ‘everything’.)

“Your hand is shaking.”

It is, but that is not because he is afraid. Fear is a human response, borne from the desire to live. It is instinctual. It means kicking and screaming, it means clawing your way out of hell for the chance to see another day, it means fighting for the life you don’t want to end. He cannot die, you see. Death cannot occur twice. Just because his body reacts, that does not necessarily mean he can truly fear any longer.

(Then again, maybe his reaction does not come from the thought of his death.)

“I’m not scared,” he says, and his voice sounds a lot weaker than he had expected. You pull him closer, cradling his head against the crook of your neck. His blood is pulsing too quickly.

“It would be okay if you were,” you murmur. “I know you don’t know how to be loved. That’s okay. I’ll teach you. You just have to let me.”

Squash. Slice. Tear.

Maybe you are the monster. He can feel your claws prying his chest open; he can feel your teeth dig into his flesh; he can feel something that is not air fill his lungs. The biggest difference between you and him is that he devours, while you give. You painfully shove something back into the cavity meant to contain his soul, you pump blood back into his system, and you fill whatever gaps are left in him with something that is first cold but quickly warms. 

(He realises, belatedly, that something is pumping inside his chest again. But it can’t be a heart, can it? He lost that so long ago.)

“I’ll kill you,” he manages through gritted teeth, claws digging into your shirt. It is not a threat. It is not a warning. It is just the truth.

“You think too much,” you admonish him. Your tone is as gentle as your words are cutting. “I wish you would trust me more. You’re so determined to ruin your own life, and I don’t like it.”

“That’s just how I am. Deal with it or leave.”

“I’ll deal with it, then.”

Like a werewolf called by the full moon; like a vampire to blood; like a siren to a sailor. He will destroy you. But you accept it. 

He has tried time and time again to push you away, but he is weak. So incorrigibly weak, and though your flaws are insurmountable, his are all-consuming. He is a monster in all the ways that matter. But you stubbornly will not leave despite that. 

(Maybe that makes him a little more willing to try to change his nature. Just a little. Just for you. If you will not leave anyways, maybe he could try to make his presence a little less torturous.)

“Just… please stop ignoring me,” you sigh, nuzzling into his hair. Tenderly, tenderly, tenderly, so tenderly it makes his skin crawl. Your claws are softly piercing into him and he is helpless, unable (unwilling) to fight back. “I can deal with everything else. I just hate it when you do that. I can’t keep going weeks without speaking to you. I know you have some kind of… weird ideas that I’d be better off without you, but that’s not true. I love you, and I love being around you. I can’t help you when you cut me off at every corner.”

Cut, slice, slash.

Something in him breaks. Something he knows cannot be salvaged. Something he knows you would not want to salvage. Something he is not sure if he wants to salvage either, now that it is broken anyways.

He breathes a shaky breath, his fingers — his fingers, not claws, not this time — digging into your back. He buries his face into the crook of your neck, and he does not feel the urge to bite down. Though his eyes feel wet, it would not be enough water to drown you. 

He knows your line of logic is wrong. He knows the fact remains unchanged: he is a monster of a man. He will ruin you. But maybe your presence sparks enough electricity to keep his heart pumping, just for a little while, and maybe he can wait until things actually start going downhill before he lets you go. Maybe he can remember how to be a human for a bit, maybe he can pretend he is. 

“I just… don’t want to do something I can’t take back,” he whispers. “Not with you. You’re the… the only good thing I have left. I don’t know what I’d do if I…”

“That’s sweet, but I’m not as weak as you think I am,” you reply. “I’ve held out this long, haven’t I? Put more faith in me.”

He smiles.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

---------------------------------------------------------

My inbox is open, feel free to send in asks or requests, I'd love to ramble about things <3 Also reblogs are EXTREMELY appreciated the final push I needed to finish this was from a very kind individual who reposted and analysed my writing I've been riding that high ever since they did that ily bro

[moonstonecanyon]

So I made a GoFundMe....

I really really don't like asking for help normally, nor do I enjoy having to make something like this in the first place, but ongod I don't think I have many options IRL at the moment. I'm a funny little autistic transman named Vergil, also known as MoonstoneCanyon here and on Twitter, and PoisonPikeKing on AO3. I make funny little Megaman things and sometimes Sonic art too.

But also I've been struggling with homelessness IRL for a few months now. I am currently looking for a new job and new career ATM as well as any kind of affordable apartment in central New Jersey at the moment. Thankfully I have a car that I can live out of as a last resort, but... I'd much rather be able to live someone under a roof instead. I've set the goal to $1500 so that I can afford any possible security deposit as well as any first month's rent while I am unemployed for the time being.

If any of you are able to spread this GFM link around, or donate any to this, I really, sincerely appreciate this. Thank you as well for reading this far.

0/1500 usd goal

[littlefankingdom]

Tumblr already showed me twice a post where OP implies that Bruce made the choice to not help Jaybin when he was attacked by an angry mob in Legends, so I had to check, and look at that, they were lying.

Context: the general population has been turned against superheroes.

An angry mob does attack Robin, and what is Batman's reaction? To come to the rescue! He even immediately calls him "son", switching to an endearing term to reassure him. However, Batman is hit in the eyes with a bottle of perfume and blinded, as his attention was on his boy. Gordon tries to get him to leave, but he refuses because he can't leave his boy behind, and when Gordon tells him that his men will take care of Robin, Batman is like "I don't trust your men with my son". Batman is forced out of here, he is so pissef, and he is called "arrogant" by the cops there.

This man trusts ONE cop, and it's Jim Gordon, that's it. And people dare to tell me Bruce isn't an acab believer. He grew up in Gotham and his parents were murdered when he was 8, of course he believes in acab. That's why he was so against his son becoming one.

Anyway, later on, Jason is in the hospital (Bruce was right, Gordon's men didn't do shit), and Bruce is pissed at the situation. However, Jason feels guilty and ashamed, and Bruce immediately goes to comfort him, reminding him he isn't at fault for getting beat up, that Bruce is proud of him and that he is a great Robin. And when Jason compares himself to Dick, Bruce stops that too, bringing up that Dick also had less glorious moments like this. And again, Bruce switches to "son" and "Jay", which convey affection in the goal of comforting his boy.

In the end, Bruce leaves his son safe at the hospital, resolved to not obey the president and get to the bottom of this. Later, Jason decides he cannot stay there and must help, even if it kills him. And people dare say that he wasn't reckless.

Anyway, the other thing about this, apart from Bruce didn't walk away WILLINGLY from Jason being attacked by an angry mob, is that as awful this is, the writers never intended this to be a traumatic experience for Jason. Of course, it would be normally, but it's just a plot point here to get Robin away from Batman while he works with the other heroes. Damn, there isn't even a follow-up to Jason leaving the hospital, he doesn't show up in the next issues to help.

Sometimes, especially with older stories, comics' events don't matter as much as you think they do. If you want to re-imagine them as impacting for the characters, that's your choice, but let's not act as if they were intended to be. Because I saw that moment being used as a comparison to Under The Red Hood, to be like "see Bruce keeps abandoning Jason", and like, calm down with the shortcuts. Because you are making that up, on your own, with what was given to you by different writers over the decades that didn't communicate with each others or agree on the characters.

[theusernameiwantisntavailable]

Every variation of Tim gets a cat brings me so much joy