#it’s because I gotta cope

[ryomaandgundhamkin]

11/18/24 TW/CW: vent (sort of), mentions of blood, vomit (slightly), mentions of yelling, trauma, blood, et cetera. Thank you.

“My brain works in a weird way. It’s sort of like how celebrities or others online only show their best side. They only reveal the highlights of their life and positive moments, and the audience may look up to them or feel… insignificant, in comparison. After a bit, in my case, my mask can wear down. I play this positive character in this show, and my depressed states are merely my expressions when I am off-stage. And so, I want to find a way to cope with all my stress, my trauma. And until I do, it is broken. I cannot wear it again, or lies will show. I can’t play out-of-character in a live show; the live show being, well, my life. No- I need to find a way to cope. If I don’t, I’ll never forgive. I’ll never forget. I’ll never get over it. All I have sinned for. But. I am scared. What methods do I have where my writing keeps safe? What platform is not going to be tracked by my guardians? No matter where I go, they are there. They are watching. I can’t feel safe online if they are there. I can’t express my true potential if my mom will eventually find my account and brag to her friends over how great I am. Over how… talented I am.”

“I’m crying too much. Emotions flood me as if dams are broken. The water, a growing flood, overcomes my emotions and my rationality. I do not panic, but I am scared. But I must hide my sobs before my father finds me and mentally beats me up about it. ‘It won’t do any good for you’; I can’t help it. If you keep yelling at me, what am I supposed to do? For I have not matured to your liking. I only exceed your standards, and my mother’s standards, in art. Something they seem to never get over. I start overthinking things. I grow anxiety. My head starts to throb and my hands begin to tremble so much. I feel so sick, I might throw up. The idea of multiple tests this week doesn’t help. I sit in the bathroom, silent. If I am caught, I am beat. I am lectured. They will ask me: ‘whats the matter? Why are you so sick?’, as if they are clueless that they are the main cause. I grow weak at the thought of the future, the past, and the present. ‘This could have been worse’; I comfort myself. This isn’t the worst, but it’s not the best. Tears slowly roll down my face at the memory of all the people I have lost. I’m sorry. Everything I’ve done. Every sin I’ve committed to have gotten where I am today. I’m so sorry, everyone. I deserve this. Don’t I? My lack of rationality grows my thoughts to believe in your lies. Am I just in denial? At this point, I’m stuck in here for 3 hours. I’m too scared to leave, but too scared to stay. I close my eyes and hope everything will go away. I hope everything is merely just a dream, I just need to wake up. Wake up, or you will die. Fuck. Why me? I sob silently, watching my volume as I can lightly hear the footsteps of my family emerge from the hallway. I feel so sick.”

“After another hour or so, I leave carefully. It’s midnight. They are all asleep at this point, and I am spared for another day. I immediately retreat to my room in a silent run, which slightly makes the nauseated feeling return. My pace slows as I walk to my bed, flopping down. My hand immediately reaches for my phone, an instinct. I feel something dripping from my mouth, and I carefully run my hand over it. Blood. Or so, I suppose it is. It tastes like it at least, but it’s too dark to tell. I ignore that and change my glance to my phone, going to Tumblr. My hands still tremble and my eyes are dry. The nauseated feeling slips in and out: irritating yet worrying. I scroll, looking at more art. I force a light smile to myself, and my jaw aches. It leaves after a few seconds. ‘Is this my last resort?’; Do I have to do this? This will only cause me more overwork, stress and anxiety. I exit the reblog. I am sorry, but my body still aches with the need for drawing more, making up perfect animation and drawing ideas in my head. This needs to stop. No. Please. This can’t be it. I can’t draw anymore, but my body refuses. My mind races with the thought of all my requests I have not finished, silently apologizing to the users.”

“…I can’t do this anymore.”

“I need to stop. I need to take a break. I can’t continue this continuous cycle of self-torment. If I do, I’ll become depressed. If I do, I’ll distance myself further from my friends.”

-

Thank you all. I appreciate your support and words of encouragement, and I know this may be a bit excessive, but I felt like releasing my emotions into a piece of text, even at the risk my mom may see this. I apologize if I have not finished your art requests. I am not taking a break, and I will continue making art (I’m sure you little shits are gonna be happy about that, huh, you guys who only care about my art). But I will not be as active, for school is still occurring. I have a break for a week next week, so I’ll try and make more art then. I just want you all to be happy, I’m sorry. I know this is a bit of a 180 from how I was earlier, but I gotta cope. My parents are arguing again (fml). XOXO.

[marciaillust]

I added some colours to her :)

[tamberrio]

Chat am I cooking

[octopuspot]

I am not immune to his cutie beam 😔

[sokkas-therapist]

Plot twist, Sokka and Zuko actually get together because there’s a spider in Sokka’s room so he absolutely can not go back in there now, the whole room needs to be burnt down. Now he has to sleep in Zuko’s room. With him. In his bed even. There is no other option.

There absolutely are other options

[sketchy-tour]

🎵When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie, that a Mori~ 🎶

Oc is @kawaiialeisha 's!

[borgialucrezia]

cesare and juan were never slick once in their lives...

[chillinglikeashilling]

I do think that it's important for Evan to understand that just because his friend don't express it in the way he does (or desperately tries not to) it doesn't mean that they don't love and miss him just as much as he misses them.

Evan said that he learned after love (his friends) came into his life, that the rest of life is still very much a thing you have to deal with and now he's seen someone dealing with it.

Jammer loves the Pilot Program and he loves his mom and sisters and all of the other teams he's part of, but the logistics of life get in the way of that. So he's thinking of ways to change his life to accommodate that love.

Now Jammer doesn't handle that perfectly because no one does really (god I want to see the convo in the next episode so bad) but he's acknowledged the problem and then moved towards fixing it.

I understand why Evan is the way he is but I do think that (for perfectly understandable reasons) he can be very unaware of the others feelings and motivations. In the same way he was doing a disservice to Sam, he's doing the same disservice to Jammer by deciding on his own that they are being 'kind' rather than 'loving'.

Jammer obviously isn't coming at the thing with the same intesity as Evan is but they both have the same silly day dream of just getting to be with their loved ones forever. That's a very understandable, very common want.

[xxplastic-cubexx]

need a hardened respectful fujo to sit down with james mcavoy and discuss cherik with him insteada this peanut gallery cause if i have to hear people laugh about a gay ship one more time i just might eat rocks

[lillastarr]

i’ve trapped him in my math notes

[aaeeart]

I don't know how to draw him

[aromacaque]

you want to analyze a cartoon that is something children can watch? ok here's the first and most important lesson ever.

have you ever heard of "suspension of disbelief?"

ok. next step. do you know what an unreliable narrator is and can you separate the character's perspective and opinions from the writers? because i promise you that the beliefs of the main character do not always reflect the writers and the point of analyzing media is to dissect that.

[ananke-xiii]

A spell goes wrong and somehow Dean travels back in time to when he was 7 or 8 years old and Sam goes well into his future, a few weeks prior to his final death. The only way to go back to their timeline is for Dean to find someone who loves him unconditionally and for Sam to establish a real, meaningful connection with another person.

It takes them some time to get it but they eventually manage:

Dean understands that no matter how hard he tries whatever happened, happened, the damage is there and yet there's a way to change the past, you don't need to change events but you can change your relation to them. He understands that the only person who will ever unconditionally love that child/him is himself, he can heal his own wound by pouring all the love he has to give to that scared little child who'll forever live beside him.

Sam understands that he doesn't have to be the spectator of his death as he thinks he is of his life, he can take matters into his hands by establishing a real connection with that old man/his own self. Whatever happened, happened, the trauma is there but he has the possibility to take it slowly to the foreground, to talk about it, to talk with it because it is a part of him that will never change, sure, but he can modify his relation with it in order to take control of his own story. He can create a connection with himself.

Dean goes back to the future after he's hugged himself as a child and told him he'll forever be loved and Dean will never forget about him, it's a promise; while Sam goes back to the past by holding his hand as his future self dies and telling him not to be afraid, that they still have time and Sam will do whatever he can to make every second count, it's a promise.

[weirdmageddon]

how do people even find partners. i dont want a bullshit answer, like really

[whatudottu]

What better way to practice new prosthetics then to piss of the bitch that got you to need them in the first place!

In other news, my pirate ocs Gali and Ido (with a third Meridi not present) who are the two sides of the fulmini cult escapees :P

A bit of backstory under the cut since they're the only fuckers I have WITH a backstory! Which btw does detail cult shit so :P big fat warning for that-

The inciting incident on Petropia that introduced it's modern underground population to the surface named the Surface Craze was in all due part because of fulmini interference at the behest of the High Override, who saw what was initially just a planet entirely made of quartz-like crystal the Override Fleet could use as a power source. Having instead found that the planet was not only populated but by a species of the living variant of that same quartz-like material - electrical properties and all - but that additionally they can regenerate their crystalline body so long as they have the energy to pull from.

Seeing this as a solution to the fulmini's energy crisis - a perpetual machine at it's finest - the High Override sought to heh... acquire some petrosapiens for themselves. To their collective benefit, a community of petrosapiens had found their faith and world shattered, previously having been extremely devoted to the Sugi religion (derived from the ancient texts of Thuugi back when their tongues were long enough to be bitten off). Instead of needing to drag away dissenters who fought tooth and nail against the invaders, this community had already shifted their faith onto the false prophet of the High Override, which already had them fall into the Coupled Override head over heels.

The cult has now expanded it's pool of prey, and like the unwilling fulmini who gives the High Override their tithe (their minds, their central colony), the petrosapien cultists pay with their arms.

50 years (or the closest equivalent) into this arrangement, 50 years Petropia spent experiencing the surface for the first time in generations, Ido was born into the cult far away from the planet she should have known as home. Any doctor worth their salt had enough brains and stubbornness to not fall into faith-based trust of the Coupled Override, so between the lack of those and the remainder pseudoscience physicians left to echo chamber themselves, when Ido began developing Excessive Compression Disorder (ECD, a nerve-equivalent disorder that causes tension fractures throughout a petrosapien's crystalline structure) despite the rather obvious visible signed she went undiagnosed and improperly treated. At the age of 200 - a petrosapien's coming of age, and 50 years after Petropia's destruction - it was Ido's time to pay her tithe and begin her offerings to the High Override.

Gali - her sacrifricant - was to sever her arms below the elbow, as was procedure. What wasn't was the near explosive response from external pressure, or the last compressive force needed to completely shatter what had already started to break.

Cutting people's arms off is technically already a violent act however, though the lower arms survived the procedure as expected, the elbow and even upper arm had scattered shards of glass-fragile crystal in a visceral radius and physically severed through the sacrificant's central colony; then Gali was abruptly severed from the High Override after they felt as if a limb began necrotising. Sacrificants nor executioners really need an active memory to do their jobs, so Gali didn't need to have memory for however long their colony was one with the High Override's. Forcefully amputated from the larger system like an infection without any of the memories of being apart of said system however, kind of rewinds a colony back to the people they remember being long before any interference.

While Ido was caught staring wide-eyed, fearful, and newly lacking the limbs she thought she could regenerate easily - her arms try and try but they shatter like glass, crumble like sand, and she violently shudders like gravel grinding into each other - Gali regained access of their long unused senses and found a sea of hostile enemy combatants staring back. With all the training of a military general with none of the present self-awareness to realise they were the cause of the currently very panicky rock's lack of arms, Gali almost like a flick of a switch reverted to the many rules of engagement regardless of the fact that they were sporting exposed central colony that may or may not have been another's with their own collection of memories.

Seeing to rescue someone who had all their rights to fear them, Gali and Ido fled to the stars.

With a few language barriers mixed with someones learning they haven't spoken much longer then anyone thought they did, discovering how planets that were meant to be each other's home have been destroyed and irrecoverable, and learning the before and after to the horror story that is the High Override and their cultist network of external nerves and collective colony, Gali and Ido may or may not have gotten arrested :P

And they probably would have been tried for crimes neither of them could particularly understand not having learnt any of the common universal languages, up until the point the prison ship was raided by a collective of pirates only working together for equal cuts of the profits (the Plumbers used a prison ship to transport the Annihilargh while they still thought it to be a threat, what's to say they wouldn't simultaneaously transport prisoners - aka, the fucking point - with some high sought-after McGuffin). The pair would meet Meridi, a galvan with a penchant for mechanics and especially the kind that deceives an observer like - for instance - an android suit.

Meridi isn't here but gist is, she pilots both her own ship and an android resembling a human, and spies a pretty prize of walking talking taydenite. Instead of scoring a deal, she takes into consideration (perhaps with a cold calculation rather than a warm sympathy) the condition of ECD affected crystals and how much effort it would take to actually refine it and deems turning Ido into pocket change isn't worth it. In fact, further taking note of the explosive volatile footwork of crystallokinesis with the additional muscle of a fulmini veteran, actively helping Ido (and Gali by proxy) would potentially turn out more of a profit.

Gali isn't in dire need for hiding, but Ido uses shadow and a human-mouth jaw mask as tools to conceal what price her skin costs, while Meridi attempts to make prosthetics for a species that doesn't have nerves that also takes into account the unstable electrical currents produced by the compression of crystalline motor functions.

A bit of a tangent in a very long not-even-bothering-to-summarize backstory, I want to talk about petrosapien prosthetics, at least ones that can have 'motors' like Ido's arms (not like Chio's leg). With no external muscles to help strap in and extend the remnant of tendons humans have running through limbs, petrosapien exoskeletons do not offer the same interconnectivity and do not have easy ways to extend what had been cut off. Myoelectric limbs again by human standards also do not fit petrosapien nervous systems either, especially since the only nerves they have are in their equivalent of the central nervous system which also interacts with internal organs, the peripheral nervous system of a petrosapien operates with the highly structured yet individually unique non-standardised crystalline formations and compression. What Meridi does however is take material from Ido's crystal to create the joints in a conductive copper rod prosthetic (insulated in rubber to prevent harm to others), where Ido's compression triggers electricity to run down to remotely compress the crystal joints, which compress under the pressures of electricity and send the signal to be compressed again until motility is achieved.

And that is a lot of context :P woops- I either make no backstory or I make this convoluted piece of moving puzzle pieces, the duality of man I suppose :P

[trensu]

hawkins halfway house update!

Chapter 5 of Tradition has been completed and posted to ao3 FINALLY. here's an excerpt for you all.

--

Eddie shuddered, clutching the now cold mug. He tapped his finger against it, making the dregs of the hot chocolate ripple. Steve shifted on the couch next to him. He didn’t want to see Steve move away from him in disgust. Because Steve must be disgusted by him now that he knew how Eddie compromised his kids’ safety so readily.

“Billy started to gloat. He said some shit about how easy I was, called me desperate and clingy,” Eddie shrugged like it didn't hurt anymore. “He tried to get Max to go to him, but I shoved her behind me. I told El to take Dustin and Max upstairs. El was so brave. She pulled them under the couch with zero hesitation. Billy got pissed. He took his crossbow and shot me.”

“He what?” Steve asked aghast.

“He shot me. With an arrow. I had already been ducking down to make sure the kids were gone so it caught me on the shoulder. It hurt like hell. Like, way more than you’d think a shoulder wound would. I don’t really remember much after that,” Eddie’s tone had gone flat. Why did the memory still hurt after all these years? It was pathetic. “Billy really was aiming for the kill. Turns out the angle it hit me got it jammed into my ribcage, really close to the heart.”

“But…but you guys all were okay, right?” Steve asked. Eddie snorted at the question and Steve winced a second later as the absurdity of the question hit the both of them. “I mean, obviously, you’re all still here, so.”