#i am trying but it doesnt feel good enough

[emmyrosee]

i think play fighting with shidou would be a glorious experience. tbh. it could fix me. i don’t even have any other thoughts abt it this time, I just know it’d be amazing 🤧

anon <3

NOOOOO IT WOULD LITERALLY HEAL MY SOUL I LOVE HIM AND IM ACTUALLY FROTHING AT THE CHOMPERS OVER THIS-

bc here’s the thing. HERES THE THING-

Shidou doesnt play fight. He straight up wrestles. Like there are sometimes where he’s gentle and just manhandles you around and pins you down and pokes and prods at your sides, just to hear you giggle and squirm, but like… sometimes, he needs to put you in a full Nelson and power bomb you, tickling you until you’re crying and quite literally tapping out.

“Quit poking me with your dogs,” he snickers, swatting at your foot that once again prods his side. “‘Feral behavior.”

“Coming from you? That’s rich,” you tease.

He flashes you an offended look, but there’s challenge in those pink eyes, a spark of excitement that entraps you, and you know that right now, you’re too playful for your own good, this can only backfire, but damn, if it doesn’t course through your body at the speed of light, filling you swiftly to pester him into snapping.

“Excuse me?” He growls, grinning behind gritted teeth.

“You heard me,” you sass once again. “I’ve seen the things you say to Sae, I know the things you yell on the field, and don’t even get me started on the way you do your hair in the morning.”

“You tryin’ to fight?” He asks, rising to his feet. “You trying to start something?”

“What’re you gonna do if I am?” You hum, rising to your feet too.

“Im gonna give you a five second head start,” he says, and you squeak and make a break for it. “Then im gonna make you regret talking all that shit!”

In your apartment, there’s only four good hiding spots; you’re both extremely aware of them, this not being a new dance for either of you.

You decide on the one in the closet, that’s always the one that gets you both riled up the most, not being able to actually see each other and being protected by an actual barrier than keeps you two apart.

“Where, oh where, could my bratty baby be?” He sings, and judging by he leisurely pace, you know he already knows which hiding spot you’re in. Your hands clasp over your mouth to hide your laughter. “Ohhhh, my bratty baby, you think you can hide from me? I can smell the fear coming from you.”

From the closet, you can’t see Ryusei, but you hear him as if he’s right next to you, his steps clear and calculated and whistling loud enough to send shivers through you. You hear him getting closer, feel the way the floor shakes under his massive frame, and you watch as a shadow comes from under the door and pauses. Your heartbeat picks up, fast, and your breathing stops as if that’ll help the inevitable.

He flings the door open after about seven seconds of anticipation. “Found you,” he sings. You shriek and try your best to scramble out of the closet for safety, only for him to laugh and grab your ankle out from under you, “oh, I don’t think so.”

Your fingers try to grip onto the floor, as if that’ll help you, but Ryusei is strong, much stronger than you, and he wastes no time in hauling you up and over his shoulder before slamming your back onto the squishy mattress, already snickering at your expense while you whine in giggles and flail your legs to try and ward him off.

He merely catches your foot and traps the other leg under his thigh, blunt nails scraping down the sole to make you nearly kick him in the nose. “Careful, it’ll come off,” he teases. You merely fight him off harder.

He tosses your foot to the side and makes a break for your torso, flopping down onto his side to pin your arm under his weight, but careful to distribute the weight so there’s no pain and you can only continue to giggle helplessly. With one of your arms rendered useless, you try and shove at him with your free arm, which gets gobbled in his grip before he positively pulls it taut, free hand now able to squeeze and poke your sensitive muscles to his delight. Your nerves are electric from the pinning to the tickles, and you’re hyper aware of him being so close to you, cheeks split into a massive smirk as he torments you.

“You talk a lot of shit for someone so ticklish,” he points out. “If I didn’t know any better I’d say you like pushing my buttons like this, just to make me snap and tickle the snot out of you. You like riling me up for this, hmm?”

Despite his words, he stops, hand smoothing up your side to calm the phantom touches still shooting through your muscles. His legs untangle from yours and he raises his body enough for you to regain control of your arms, which causes you to curl into his side, still giggling softly. “So mean,” you mewl in between your titters.

“You made fun of my hair, what did you expect?” He scoffs, wrapping his arms around you to cuddle you. You bury your nose against him, relishing in the smell of his shirt and being more than content in his arms. “Besides, I know you like it.”

“You dont know shit,” you grumble, but your smirk tells him everything he needs to know.

Play fighting and you? Inseparable.

Good thing he’s there to always indulge you.

[witchqueen]

Does anyone have any tips to help stop yourself from comparing your artwork to others, or equating your value as an artist with likes and reblogs?

I've struggled with this for a while and it's getting old, I don't know how to just shrug it off. Any genuine advice would be nice

[puppppppppy]

who up seeing their disorder in a fictional character but feel like its not their place to put a name on it

[nejackdaw]

Thinking about Celann and his ever present grief at the life he could have had, he and his wife and (he always hoped) their daughter. A life where he was a father--he'd hardly ever wanted anything more than that. So full of love he was ready to burst and needed somewhere to put it, wanted a life with his favorite girls.

Thinking about how the ever present desire haunts him no matter how deep he buried it. It keeps coming back, relentlessly, this anguish that he threw it all away. He could have had exactly what he wanted and he was stupid enough to abandon it all, and for what? Because he was upset? But then he always remembers how hollow he felt after the incident, like if you rapped him with a knuckle you'd hear he was just a shell. He forgives himself, then, remembers how wrong everything felt, and he thinks about all the time he spent desperately trying to make everything feel right again.

Remembers when he realized he was the problem, what needed to be fixed. Removed.

He abandoned the life he had and every dream he'd ever held close because he wasn't him anymore. Celann would never have killed anyone, would never have done... that. He was some other Celann, different, trying to make himself fit in the life of a man that no longer existed. And so he left.

And he has no right to ache so badly at the thought of what he gave up, no right to ache at the loss of a family (of two families, but he starts thinking that and breaks every time, so he's gotten good at simply skipping over the thought) when he was a killer--an adept one, a practiced one--that could mangle and maul and kill and do it again and again. What right does he have to still want that happy little dream?

But the dream is a ghost and it haunts him, is there every time he's out on a supply run and sees kids playing around the marketplace, sees women cradling infants and fathers carrying sons on their shoulders. (He reminds himself of the blood on his hands, is scared he might stain them with it if he reaches out to touch them.) It's there when he has a bag and his axe hanging from his hips and finds a girl crying for her mother, lost and separated, jostled by the crowd.

It's there as he calms her, kneeling on wet and gritty stone, hovering between her and the flow of the crowd so they give her space. He lifts her and holds her against his side with one arm and something in him weeps, feels something soft in him as her tiny weight settles and she starts chattering at him about the groceries she and her mother came to buy.

They weave their way through the marketplace as they help each other--she tells him where he can find what he needs, and he silently curses the nords and their height as he tries to peer over shoulders to catch a glimpse of the woman she described--and that cold weight that's usually settled in his chest, his grief and remorse, lightens with every step. She's warm through his sweater and splutters indignantly every time the ever changing wind blows her brown hair into her mouth and he laughs, quiet and warm.

They check places she's already been, in case her mother doubled back looking for her, and take detours so Celann can fumble to place newly acquired groceries in the bag beneath her, unwilling to hold her over the side with his axe and equally unwilling to put her down, awkwardly shifting her weight as she laughs at him. He's silly for buying such expensive things, she tells him, and he light heartedly tells her Skyrim is silly for not having the things he used to use in High Rock. The revelation he hasn't always lived in Skyrim excites her to no end, and the rest of the trip is a Q&A of the sort only a small child can provide.

He feels warm inside, in his chest, where usually he feels vaguely cold at best, and for a moment he's reluctant to relinquish her when they finally find her mother, guided by the sounds of panicked calls of her name. There's a fond sadness as he sets her down on the stones again, and the woman looks at him oddly for a moment before the look turns knowing, though he's sure the conclusion she reached is slightly off.

She quietly asks if her daughter reminds him of her. He stands there silently for a moment, looking down at the little girl as she rifles through the things her mother's found.

He tells her yes.

[im-smart-i-swear]

i always assumed he cut his hair with a pair of shitty scissors in front of his bathroom mirror at like 2am

[lemurballing]

the difference between good whispangle and bad whispangle is the difference between trusting each other the most and only trusting each other. between getting stuck in the past or letting the future embrace you. between holding a close bond and being desperate for each other’s company. between being a pair and being a unit.

good whispangle is tangle helping whisper stay in the present and future, and whisper being a guiding hand, a steadying of tangle’s impulse, and the both of them making choices that help and comfort the other.

bad whispangle is tangle getting dragged into dwelling on the past with whisper, is tangle being made to overstep instead of minding the lines she should be able to see, and whisper sinking into a mire that tangle follows her into instead of pulling her from. is putting them together ‘because they’re whispangle’ and forgetting why they were loved together in the first place. is keeping them together because they’re whispangle, even when they trod on the other.

and the difference is,

that if it starts out bad and becomes better, it’s satisfying, heartening.

but to start out excellent and then get worse and decay, feels like a smear or a stain on top of a beloved work.

a natural decay can be done, but we want them to be good together, to bring out the best in each other instead of enabling the worst. if we want to see decay, it is because it makes sense for one or both of them to be driven off-balance and start messing with the other, we want one or both of them to realize this, and we want them to have to jump-start and kick aside and course-correct and come out all the better, for having broken their flaws open and mended them with gold.

we don’t want to see them broken apart and stuck back together with cheap glitter glue.

[microwavetoaster-selfships]

Guhhb. I need someone to lose my mind to right now. I ocould say a mountain of text but also. Nothing. Mhnvjvg. I. The voice actor for Axlerod- Eddie Izzard- I love listening to her comedy sketches I really do. I could go on about all her stuff but I love her things she is brilliant. Uh. And of course the reason I looked her up ages ago was because I wanted to hear just more stuff as Axlerod right. Wanted to hear Axlerod say more stuff cause she doesn't change her voice or anything when doing his voice right. But most her sketches are all on Amazon Prime, there's like two up on YouTube. But. I recently learned that she has a Spotify? ?and. She uploads some of her comedy sketches there. Which I think seeing them with video is best because the gestures and like things that she does during them is really good and adds to it but I will not complain for a minute about podcast format, nonetheless because with as much as I like her stuff I'd be better of me to just buy a CDs of all her stuff than repeatedly do a subscription for them. Anyway. That's all brilliant and fantastic cause I love her stuff and I get to hear it as Axlerod. And I don't know why but sometimes when I listen to her stuff my brain like... doesn't pick it up as Axlerod? Which it's the same exact voice. But sometimes she'll say certain things and it'll really hit me. And that's important for my second bigger thing.

So I decided to go back and listen to her sketches on Spotify again because I was looking for a particular bit but I don't know which act it's from(not that I mind going through all of them anyway) and I decided okay. Just so I keep track of which I have and haven't heard I'll start at the very bottom/with the oldest and work my way up. Which I discovered some other really really cool and awesome things there that maybe perhaps I'll just save sharing it for another day. But there were some like. Music things? That she was featured in? Like compilations of a bunch of artists that got together and did things and okay I just scrolled to where her name was at and it said she was doing it with another artist and I listened to it and I was like hm... I feel like I'd super recognize hearing her sing, no? I mean I've never heard her sing before and I am desperate for that perhaps for blatant reasons becuase. Axlerod. So I was like maybe I can look it up and see a video of it. And I felt a little bit better cause okay she didn't sing I didn't completely fail myself by not recognizing her voice. But oh. Oh. She was DOING THE PIANO. The piano. That's fantastic. Didn't know she played piano in any capacity. Maybe I will project that onto Axlerod in some time we'll see.

Now. Hold on. It gets better. So I go to the next seperate thing she was featured in, completely different compilation. Also music centered. Scroll down looking for her name. It seems to be from some other movie thing but whatever. Ah. Her name is by itself now. Perhaps I. Will hear her sing. Now. As I mentioned earlier sometimes my brain has the distinction between hearing her and Axlerod and I don't know why cause it's the same exact voice. Maybe it's the way she projects her voice or a slightttest inflection that makes the difference. Mm. Auto correct is saving me right now. I click on the Spotify thingy. Funky music starts playing that I can't explain ya just gotta hear it. Not funky as in silly bouncy but funky as in like 80s-90s funky. Like the villian is doing a swagger walk up to the protagonist with a fiendish grin like they're about to sing their entire plan and destruction. I have never seen whatever film this is from I have no clue what takes place in this darn thing. Ah. I don't know how to explain it but. Yes she does sing. And this is the most Axlerod sounding thing ever. Good grief man. Oh my days. I think it's cause in the movie Axlerod is mostly projecting his voice and doing speachy sort of things so hearing Izzard speak in a more relaxed tone my brain is still connecting the wires. But in the song she is projecting her voice more so it is there more. And I'm pretty sure if you watched me you would see it in my eyes. I could be put in a glass cage in a zoo for enrichment for others to watch right now. Pausing every five seconds and replaying it cause I want to savor this I don't want it to end. I wish there was a word for this. It's him it's him he's doing the thing guys.!!*×&#$>'w828. W. Same vibes. Same vibes. I'm going to lose it.i have to pause or else I will actually explode and erupt. Start screaming and shouting and jumping up and down and flailing and shaking my arms and my hands and running around and falling to my knees.

[aggghhhhh71279534]

im gonna say it BEING FAT FUCKING SUCKS!!! STOP PRETENDING IT DOESNT!!!! BEING FAT IS AWFUL!!!

[googoothegodofblood]

Its like. SO surreal when you grow up "alongside" an artist- youre the same age, but they had a following bigger and better before you ever had social media to begin with, you two grow up, you follow their progress and they enjoy your support..

the clock strikes 19, and suddenly its like a ticking time bomb to see if they realized the responsability on their shoulders and that they need to grow up-their sudden power imbalance with younger friends, mutuals and fans. Do they know the damage they can cause? most of them dont.

Through a mix of self unawareness and selfishness, they hurt someone. they hurt a minor and now this person you watched develop before your very own eyes is the religated piece of shit of the week and shunned from the community.

Its even worse when thats your friend..

[tiredtriedfailures]

im so unwell im wearing the ring my friend got me. for emotional support. like a corny movie protagonist with his dead wife.

[phagodyke]

ah shit only just realised its september now.... lets hope the rest of this month isn't like this.....

[mitamicah]

.

[chemicalarospec]

The funniest thing I wholeheartedly believe is that I have a neurodivergency not catergorizable or diagnosable as any currently recognized disorder. (disorder emphaized because heavily impairing functioning is generally a requirement of the clinical definition and a condition of diagnosis, and although i'm vexed i still Get By Just Fine)

because like yes those probably exist; there's no way psychiatry is in its final form now and there are definitely levels of neuro-difference that don't qualify as disorders, but like. that's so random and it's kinda pretentious to make such a bold claim about yourself. like oh u wanna be special, huh? 🙄 just be AuDHD like everyone else (<- joking)

[thecherrygod]

/

[jackass-jones]

Actually cry so goddamn hard when I think about Shinjiro Aragaki healing and being loved and having to learn to be okay with himself and being taken care of

[ningningkittie]

i cant stop thinking abt him... have been doing that all daynd i feel so sad nd my heart hurtsso bad nd i long for him sm it's just a bad day :((