#i vanish and do that sometimes

[sheylin66]

Happy Birthday, Me!🎉

I'm 18 now. Welp, time went by real fast.

Why not celebrate with Ocs, aye? :] make it a fun party. The birthday was yesterday, on the 6th of November

[umblrspectrum]

i got lazy in the second panel

[boyhood]

I have a new episode of my podcast All Miracles Are Strange. It's about hysterical weeping, Margery Kempe, EM Cioran, and two ceramics work by the artist Carolein Smit (above).

It's also about how I cry a lot.

In this episode, I referenced Tears and Saints by Emil Cioran, The Crying Book by Heather Christie, Cry Baby: Why Our Tears Matter by Benjamin Parry, Interior Castles by Teresa of Avila, the Book of Margery Kempe, Afterlives of the Saints by Colin Dickey, and the essay “Tears and Screaming: Weeping in the Spirituality of Margery Kempe” by Santha Bhattacharji, which appears in the book “Holy Tears: Weeping in the Religious Imagination.” I tried very hard to put in some bits from Margery Kempe by Robert Gluck, but couldn't make it work this time around.

If you would like to support my work or read more of what I do, you can find me on Patreon and Substack. If you want to see my studio work, you can see it on instagram and on my website.

This episode, along with all the others, can be found on both Spotify and Apple Podcasts

[necrotic-nephilim]

PLEASE MAKE A MASTERPOST I watched titans Just for the gay shit and it delighted me. and then Hush and Titans Tower and then the GK game.....there's so much

THE WORST PART IS MY TAGS GOT CUT OFF ON THAT POST. i had other tags talking how absolutely gay JayTim comes across in Titans, in the clips i've seen. having Jason save Tim and then go on to train him is... an interesting direction to go with them but the clip was so gay i had to send it to my partner so they could witness it. had the classic "let's go a few rounds" shit and *everything*. like it was baffling and if it wasn't "batcest" i do think it would've taken the fandom by storm as a ship. i have stopped and started that show at least three times bc i always get too frustrated to get past s1, but for JayTim, i think i gotta.

making a masterpost of every significant JayTim relationship throughout DC media wouldn't be *too* hard, i feel like. i've done one focusing just on the New-52, and i've covered all the pre-Flashpoint ground through various posts here. ironically the hardest thing would be Rebirth, because i can't think of many Rebirth era comics i've read with them significantly interacting outside of Robin: Knight Terrors. and i'd have to actually get through Titans.

also for the sake of completion, Wayne Family Adventures would probably get its own section. which is the real torture for me bc i have beef with WFA.

but. i *could* do it. and it would take me like a month, it'd be such a fun pet project. i think exploring what seems to be a recurring consistent theme across every universe could be incredibly fascinating. what similarities and differences exist and what tends to cause those similarities and differences. it'd be a magnum opus. but more chaotic. and gay.

anyway you're right. now i gotta. it'll take me three business weeks to catalog all of it and also add meaningful commentary. but i can and i will.

[raegenghost]

I don't know how many people here remembers me, used to be known as filisapin, but it has been a long time since I visited this community. Cogdis is something that has never left my heart years after I finished it, and I figured I should make something of a tribute for bit, no matter how small. And so, Niiue and Giegue!

[quins-makeshift-menagerie]

The process is a bitch and I want to fight it

[alcego]

thinking about an AU where Andrew’s memory starts to fade. just a touch—not to the levels of amnesia or anything like that, but in the sense that remembering everything in crystal-clear, high-def surround sound replay is no longer a coping mechanism his body relies on. the pattern recognition and hyper-vigilance becoming unnecessary as his life tones down, as he settles into something quiet, if not peaceful. that twinge of despair when his brain flicks back to pull a memory and apply it to a situation, only to find it blurry and half-remembered. realizing the vast majority of his childhood became a blur sometime in the past few months. it would change so much for him, i think, but it would open up space for him to grow into later…

[novelconcepts]

There are a lot of Worst Things about depression. Everybody's got a different Worst Thing. Hell, I can't always decide on what my personal Worst Thing is. Sometimes it's the numb despair. Sometimes, it's the dumb animal panic. Most of the time, though, it's that there isn't enough room inside of me.

What I mean is: I care about too many things. I think that's pretty standard these days for a lot of people. Empathy stretched fine as gossamer. We see so much suffering each day. We see so much more than any one person was meant to. So you wind up caring, because caring is what a person is wired to do, what makes life worth living. You care about people you know. You care about people you've never met. You care about situations in countries you haven't set foot in. You care about the political climate of your own hometown. You care about your own dreams. You care about your best friend's bad luck. You care about your pets' health. You care about when the next book in your favorite series will come out. You care, and you care, and you care, because you're wired to care about it all. It's exhausting sometimes, but it's life. Sometimes the best part of life.

With depression, the caring space gets to feeling too full. Has packed tight, all those elements butting into one another until they lose meaning, the darkness threading into the gaps. There just isn't enough room inside of me for all the fear and the despair and the weird empty anger, much less the stuff that actually matters. So I start shorting out. Because, see, depression makes it so I can't care; don't see a point in even trying. And the real me, the part of me that isn't being cannibalized by the demons, doesn't know how to do anything else. So the middle ground becomes: shrink the caring space. Shrink it down bit by bit. All systems are running at once, and we're getting low on juice, so the natural thing is to start shutting off lights. Start jettisoning the extraneous to make room.

Except it's depression at the wheel, not common sense, so it's not just the extra flair getting turned off. Not the despair and the mind-numbing terror and the reckless urge to pick fights. The stuff that winds up getting tossed is stuff I need. Stuff that keeps me going. It's all being shut down at once, no rhyme or reason, until I suddenly can't care about the things that are me. Intrinsic, fabric-level stuff. I can't care about creating. About making art. About telling stories. I can't care about other people telling stories. I can't care about my friends the way I'm supposed to. I can't care about their travel or their kids or their wins. I can't care about making food for myself. I can't care about brushing my teeth. I'm shutting down to component parts, but I didn't get to pick which components are still running full-power, so I wind up with just a handful of randomly blinking lights. Suddenly, I care very much about my fear of the future, my financial insecurity, how fast I can run a 5K, a single television show--and just about nothing else.

It isn't healthy. It's sure as fuck not sustainable. And I know from experience that the rest of the system will come back online eventually. I'll find myself telling another story in a week or a month. I'll find myself sketching something out of nowhere. I'll find myself able to grieve a lost loved one and treasure my new nephew. It'll all come back, in time. But it's the in-between bit that grates. The bit where I'm in the shuttle with my knees tucked against my chest, sucking oxygen through a straw, trying to conserve whatever is still running. The bit where I resent the people in my life who aren't running on fumes like I am. Where I'm furious that they can care, that they can move freely, that they aren't pacing a minuscule cage like I am. It's a loss, all the months and years I've spent on life support. It's a fucking waste.

That's where I am right now. Life support. Little things get in, from time to time. I can suddenly inhale a book series start to finish. I can suddenly coax myself into eating the same thing for lunch for three weeks straight. Those are extra lights on the dash, and I have to treasure them. Because there isn't really room, so any little thing that I find space for is a gift. And everything else--talking. planning. trusting. creating. intake.--has to stay dark for a little while longer.

It'll come back on. I have to believe it'll come back on.

In the meantime, I hunker in my shuttle, and I wait.

[tinyfantasminha]

👍

[fate-defiant]

I can't believe they put my boy Mytho "does fucked up shit to himself because his entire identity and self image relies on being loved(in the right way by the right people)" and my girl Rue "does fucked up shit to everyone else because her entire identity and self image relies on being loved(in the right way by the right people)" togehter in the same show and never did anything to meaningfully juxtapose and explore All That

[tetrakarn]

unhinged at midnight thinking abt how different life could have been if till didn't turn back when ivan tried to escape with him

[darewolfcreates]

Seablings

[tubbo--updates]

tumblr start registering and posting the updates first try challenge impossible!?!?

[sociallyawkwardseal]

Prompt: Fictober Day 6: "I'm not giving up."

Fandom: Lumine

Summary: Kody starts trying to use magic again after Bill's death. As you can imagine, this leads to a stay in the hospital.

Content Warnings: Hospitalization, self-destructive behavior/implied self-harm, could probably be counted as internalized ableism, implied animal death

Words: 424

Aiden sat bedside, the bright florescent lights of the room buzzing against his ears as he watched the steady rise and fall of Kody’s breathing. He laid on his side, facing away from Aiden, a thick blanket brought from home offering more comfort and protection than the flimsy hospital blanket laying over top of it.

The room was, for the most part, an eggshell-white; a vase of flowers sat by the window, a bouquet of white delphinium and shellflower winding around each other, and singular green mums woven into varying points.

“I know you’re awake.” Aiden spoke quietly, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the bed.

“Doesn’t matter, I’m going back to sleep.”

“That’s fine.” Aiden said, a subtle, sad smile tugging on his lips. “I want us to talk about something later, though. After y—”

“If it’s about magic, I’m not stopping.”

Aiden reached out slowly, his hand resting on Kody’s shoulder as he responded as softly as he could. “I know, but—“

“Then what’s there to talk about? That’s it, conversation over.” Kody muttered, rolling his arm to push Aiden’s hand away. He curled up into a tighter ball under the blankets, most of his face now hidden. “I’m not giving up. So.”

“I actually wasn’t going to tell you to give up, really. I know it’s important to you, and I don’t want you to lose that…” As much as I wish you would take your own health more seriously sometimes. He glanced at the spirit, hovering on the pillow above Kody’s head. I really wish you would.

Kody remained silent, no longer even acknowledging Aiden.

“I wanted us to talk about alternatives for you. Potion making, maybe? Something a little more accessible for you. It doesn’t have to be that, but… Something that won’t land you in the emergency room every other week would be nice, don’t you think?”

“Maybe.”

Kody’s response was short, his tone snippy. It was exactly what Aiden had expected from him, hooked up to machines and in the hospital, exhausted and uncomfortable.

“You’re going back to sleep, aren’t you?”

“Told you I was, so. Let me go back to sleep.” Kody huffed, poking his head out. “We can talk about it over food. Or something. When I wake back up. Like you said.”

I was hoping you would agree to that. Aiden’s smile shifted, no longer dragged down by as much grief and concern as it was before. “Alright. I’ll have Silver pick something up for you when you wake up again.”

[steakout-05]

i was so brave a couple days ago. there was a baby huntsman spider in my room and i totally didn't fumble trying to catch it 3 entire times while trying to lure it in and out of a box all while screaming and going "whAT THE FUCJ WHAT" whenever it moved even a little bit. in which the reason i was trying to catch it was because it randomly appeared on a box right next to my bed and i knew if i didn't catch it i wouldn't be able to sleep. nope. totally wasn't genuinely frightened by a tiny itty bitty little guy that could literally fit in the palm of my hand 15 times. whaaaat me? scared by a tiny little spider??? psh no wayyyyy man no way

(after i did this i was slightly shaken up and extremely worried there was another much bigger one in my bed and i felt like there were bugs crawling on me until i fell asleep)

[dandelionsprout42]