#i have had years of therapy

[kurjakani]

Kani I really love your art and even though I rarely know the characters you draw (when you make fanarts, I mean), I honestly love how passionate you are about them. Do you have any tips on being more confident in making art? I feel like I stop myself from drawing, painting or writing about things I love because I'm embarrassed of being found out, even though I don't even post my art anymore (for the same reason, shame)

Hey!!! Thank you so much :3 Im a little worried about the wording of this message just like. it seems like you genuinely have like. An excruciating amount of fear regarding "being found out"? And im not sure if im picking up on it too strongly. But idk that level of shame which, BTW I CAN RELATE TO. If you feel like you can't draw or write in your own personal space for yourself, i have 2 like think if that's bc you dont have your own personal space or if you have like such severe (unwarranted but understandable) anxiety and feeling of unsafety within that space that you can't do anything?

In which case that is. TOUGH AS FUCK ill b real. Ive experienced that and ive worked on that w a professional but ik not everyone has access to that so yeagh. But. If it is that it would be. good to examine where that shame comes from and maybe if there's smth you can do w that bcs ill b real from experience that is debilitating.

Explore the experiences/mindsets that caused you to feel like it is bad/embarrassing/not ok to make art, write, etc, Because why WOULD it be bad. Why would it hurt anyone to create something for yourself. Is it a little cringe? if yes, what of it? In this bigger picture of a world where we are a miniscule dot in the timeline of eternity Does A Little Cringe matter? Why should it? If creating is something that makes you feel good, that is a positive for this world. And yk what. If you do gather the courage to post your work, and ONE person likes it? One persons day is made moderately better bc of it??? Is that not the fucking coolest????

Idk man this is a tough one. I did as a kid sometimes draw things on paper and deadass just burn them in the kitchen sink, bc it made me feel better. I got it out and it dissappearred and that was ok.

If anyone has extra tips id love 2 rb w them bc this IS a tough one.

[walkerrenee]

sometimes i randomly remember how insane maggie stiefvater was for making ronan lynch—a man that can create reality—a man of god, when he himself is a god of a man. then to take this man and have him be not only in love with, but a literal soulmate of a man named adam. parrish. adam parrish. who, mind you, lives above ronan's very own place of worship. and is the namesake of the first of mankind that the bible says god made from the literal dust of the ground (adam parrish: comes from nothing, hair "dusty" in color) and appoints him to care for the garden of eden (adam parrish: sacrifices himself to ronan's sentient forest). then has adam viewing ronan as a god and ronan saying "maybe he dreamt (created)" adam???? like who just fucking writes that and goes about their life?

[vi-visected]

my therapist: how are you feeling in the wake of your (autism spectrum disorder) diagnosis?

me: well it makes sense doesn’t it? i was the one who requested testing. like on some level i kind of figured.

my therapist: yes, i’m personally glad we pursued it because it helps me better understand parts of your behavior and how to accommodate you. but how do you feel about it? you said before that you were in heavy denial about the possibility when you were younger.

me: well yeah, i had a preconceived idea of what autism was that i know now wasn’t true. but at the time it was distressing and i didn’t want to think about it too hard.

my therapist: how was it different then? what was your idea of autism then?

me: it was, you know, severe developmental delay. i never thought i had developed abnormally at all, so to try and match up the severity i associated with autism and the way i viewed myself, i just couldn’t.

my therapist: but you did.

me: sorry?

my therapist: you did develop abnormally. both socially and academically.

me: socially yes, but i had no problems with academics. i always especially excelled at reading comprehension, more so than anyone else in my grade. i started lagging in high school but i think that was a lot of burnout and depression and ptsd, probably. i was incredibly smart. hell, i spoke in full sentences earlier than most of my peers.

my therapist: violette, that’s still abnormal development.

me: …huh?

my therapist: developing abnormally fast is still developing abnormally.

me:

me: oh.

[iyohme]

and i know that you mean so well;

but i am not a vessel for your good intent!

("Tongues and Teeth," - The Crane Wives)

my serotonin got jetpack bursted into the stratosphere with this blurb by OP. Your brain is so juicy and moist and wrinkly OP. Godspeed. I'm not even into DC but the whole "Burnt out and neglected, and now a bunch of people driven by guilt guilt guilt want me back so they can feel less guilty?" just made the racoon in me rub its hands menacingly hoho

Just imagine not even living your best life; just a shadow in the lives of the illustrious Waynes, a ghost in a castle, visible only to the loyal servant and the occasional curious paparazzi who shrugs and looks away--after all, there was no mention of you in any occasion: must be the kid of in-house staff. How nice of Brucie Wayne to allow even the children of in-house staff the opportunity to study at such a high-end college! (The reporters chortle and snicker at your barely-passing marks, sighing at such a wasted opportunity. Oh well. And then they move on to the tabloid topic of the week, after the strutting socialites and the rich and the arrested Rogues.)

You gather things.

You gather pieces of a cracked dream, a single plastic teacup you had brought into the cavernous mansion the day you held Alfred's old, gnarled hand. Ears ringing and slippers still stained with your parent's blood as they were gunned down before your very eyes. You gather your things, what made you before you were "Wayne," so to say. Your mother's old cigarette box, smuggled from the crime scene, your one memento of the woman who you could not forget but never forgive.

A juxtaposition of love and hate, forever crucified. The image of the Virgin Mary inside the tin box seems to be a mockery of faith, across from her image lying cheap cigarettes.

You gather test papers, all barely passing and with more reds than blacks, and grind them up into strips with the shredder you had brought; just one time the black card Wayne had given you, and it left the bitterest, sourest aftertaste in your mouth. They burn so cozily on the school Bunsen burners, especially when sprayed with alcohol, immediately immolating like timelapse sparkler videos. You gather your name before the Incident, you cherish it, and you repeat the syllables in the dead of night, spilling past your mouth. Even if it was the name of a child-abusing monster, it was still yours, and it was still of use.

And use it, you would.

While they go and be a family, you work to begin yours.

You gather funds: it's easy to take on odd jobs when people do not suspect you. You tuck away that black card at the bottom of your study table drawers, forgotten there like scribbled-out pages of an essay, an unfinished drawing, and leftover candy wrappers. It's a bit-by-bit work, but you know the Waynes wouldn't even see it happening. Your brothers and sisters (an absurdly alien concept, as they don't even acknowledge you exist ninety-five percent of the time) are prodigies paraded around at every event. You are the unseen ghost flitting through their shadows.

Graduation comes and goes. It's laughably easy to falsify having lost your social security number and other documents--Gotham is that much of a shithole, you suppose. The man in the cowl notwithstanding. His efforts are admirable, but weak. Recidivism is common in this place, as if there were some sort of pull that incited the people in Gotham to cruelty, to madness.

It's absurdly Lovecraftian, in its own way.

You are not even living your best life, and yet you are free. Alfred knows; he always knows. If you are The Ghost, then the aged butler is a man one step between the doors of death, and he sees you every time you move. Your room is empty, and he raises an eyebrow at your satchel: all your items already stored elsewhere or given away.

("I suppose this was a long time coming, Little Master."

Tap tap tap. Footsteps on marble floors, setting sun.

You shrug. "Eh. The Waynes gave me a roof and education. It's all good."

You grunt. "Well, people change. Like you know, how kids being gifted stop being gifted when they grow older." You say, instead of 'Well, if a child doesn't get any praise or attention if they do good and probably even less if they were bad, why even bother?')

A pause. "Your academics were not so lackluster when you were younger."

You promise to try and stay in touch. (You crossed your fingers behind your back.) You leave, sunset on your face.

The nap you had in a dingy hotel with far too many odd stains and not enough locks you could put on was the soundest you've ever slept in years.

Freedom smells like summer air and the last rays of sun, followed by the cold blue hour.

It takes three months for an out-of-state college to accept you. It's far from Gotham. It has a dormitory. Excellent. While you were indeed a mediocre academic student, you had banked everything on band scholarships.

Who knew more than a hundred clarinet players had unclaimed scholarships yearly? Packing up your small life in bags, you take a train upwards to another state.

(Meanwhile, in Gotham, there is an odd sense of unease as Bruce Wayne stops by an inconspicuous door. It's relatively clean, as expected of his manor, but the worn out brass on the handle suggests that someone had lived there before. He opens the door. Steps in. A bed, a dresser, a study table. Bare bones.

The unease intensifies. But who?)

Someone had lived in here, yes.

[lovealwayssay]

I can't believe that in the year 2024, I spent 20 minutes of my therapy session trying to explain the Destiel confession followed by immediately getting sent to super gay Hell so I could tell my therapist that I received the news that Trump had been shot through that meme.

[jasperyourmutt]

zonked out on the dog bed snoring up a storm. you come over and rub the soft spot on the top of my nose. i let out the most contented sigh

[marlinspirkhall]

[Arachnophobia TW]

I love that spiders pay rent if you leave them in peace. They're also territorial enough that once you have 2 or 3 spiders hiding out in your room it's kinda the max capacity.

[touchlikethesun]

i do think there is something wrong with me because i am realising that my reactions to some of the things that luo binghe did because of his love for shen qingqiu seem to be relatively muted compared to others’. like don’t get me wrong, luo binghe definitely did that like he for sure went there but like at the same time i think he’s so fucking valid and maybe if people just stopped judging the kid for being the teensiest bit obsessed and took the time to understand his hangups then they’d see that too

[marblerose-rue]

silly doodle for my fursona since i made her 11 years ago today :-)

[theaccidentfactory]

I always think about how minus the people close to Anne and parts of the government, the rest of the world thinks that the s3 frogvasion was a hoax or a movie stunt gone wrong. Not only have the trio been through something no one else on earth can comprehend, but if they try to talk about it to even a therapist, they're more likely to be labeled as delusional or in psychosis.

[saturnvs]

wet on wet, attempts at some art therapy at home

[wildglitch]

*Far in the future in Peter time in the DCU.*

JL Men: Spider-Man! Please listen to us!

Spider-Man: Counter offer, no.

JL Men: *absolutly done with his shit*

Wonder Woman: Can you please help us by doing this task Spider-Man?

Spider-Man: Yes Ma'am!

Spider-Man: *Procceds to do the task no questions asked*

JL Men: What the actual fuck!?

~Later~

Spider-Man: *Sitting in the cafeteria alone in peace*

Black Canary: *Walks in and sits directly across from him and stares right into his soul*

Spider-Man:...

Black Canary:...

Spider-Man:...Please dont tell them

Black Canary: What? The fact that you have mommy issues for Diana or the fact you have daddy issuses for half the men on the team?

Spider-Man:...*deep sigh*...my neighbor is going to give me so much shit for this

Black Canary: Your coming to therapy next week

Spider-Man: Ok...

BC & SM: ( ´･･)ﾉ(._.`)

[deoidesign]

.

[cerealmonster15]

caytober day 2!!!! azul isnt the only student with henchmen

[potatobugz]

i feel as if im going mad so im going to just put this out here. real quick. movieunleashers starters ramble.

i cant stop thinking about how mudkip broke down in that one scene in "Typomaniac," when Chespin called him mean. for a second he lets his mask slip a little bit and to me he just... acts his age. he starts crying and calls chespin mean back. maybe im just hyperfocusing on this one detail but mudkip is about 12 years old.

and that just makes me wonder what happened in this guys life that brought him to where he is now. and it makes it all the more tragic how his whole world revolves around chespin, but he is the one bringing him the most pain. and how young he was when he died.

there is a large theme of growing up in "Rare Candy." the characters ages are emphasized in that particular episode, and one of the main conflicts is fennekin wanting to evolve faster.

the thing about characters in these stories is that they're not allowed to just be kids, to have a childhood. so many bad things happen to them. like. mudkips whole, Everything. fennekin when she was famous in typomaniac, or dealing with her own insecurities/pressure from society about her relationship w chespin. and chespin always having to shoulder his friends problems & always somehow managing to stay positive despite everything.

why cant they just. play video games. eat ice cream or something. go to the movies

at the end of the day, i think both mudkip and fennekin are characters who grew up too fast. by distancing himself from them, chespin refused to follow in their footsteps and just wanted to stay a kid.

good for him.

[leosmiserables]

i (a person who has struggled with both an ed AND a crippling phobia of worms and maggots) listened to tmagp episode 25 and uhm. crazy how i was the target audience for who they were trying to scare huh