#more often than it should

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

hey um queer desi people if you think you're alone, i promise you're not. i'm here, we're here, and we exist. i love you.

[kathaynesart]

Have some Replica Leo for Round 2 of the @tmntfashioncompetition! This time the theme is: "Traditional Garment." I’ll be up against @villainleoau and I’m nervous cuz that’s a STELER crew and some of the most talented artists in the fandom (also their fashion sense is off the charts)!

For the art I decided to lean into some traditional Japanese attire and a prosthetic more befitting of the era. Originally I was just going to have Leo's missing arm be covered, but if he wants to be truly capable with a katana he'd need something to help keep the sheath affixed when removing his sword. This is especially necessary for duels, since the speed and pressure applied from the drawing of the sword are imperative. I imagine he has several more varying tools he can screw onto his arm in the little side pack. Also note, the Kanji means "ninja" or "ninpo" and the finer hiragana text is the infamous "You are not alone" line. I had a lot of fun with this one, trying to decide if maybe I should put it up for print.

Some of my inspo under the cut:

[itseghost]

they are talking shit (or flirting?)

[daekiyu]

thoughts filled with pickles

[wishchip106]

crazy this guy can kill anyone with a thought

he’s just a silly billy

he don’t need to mind control me to do anything sign me up to be a child soldier get me in the field

[liketolaugh-writes]

Okay but like. Real talk. 'Their son died and they didn't even notice' sounds real bad, but can we like- Danny was still living with them. It is reasonable to assume that your kid that is still living with you is not dead. It is not like he just disappeared one day and they didn't notice.

'Their son died and they didn't notice' is a FANTASTIC line for characters to torment themselves and each other with. Danny can lay awake at night and think about it. Maddie can rip her hair out over it. Sam can throw it at them in a spiteful rage.

But like. It's definitely not an accurate summary of what happened there. And I think the author should maintain a careful awareness of that.

[thedisablednaturalist]

I think when people think of mental illness and what helps, especially with things like anxiety and depression, the treatment involves pushing yourself. Pushing yourself to get out of bed, to exercise, to take a shower, to go out in public, to order your own food from the cashier, etc.

And because the mental health movement has grown so much, people think that's the default of ALL illnesses. That the only way someone will get better is if they push themselves. That practice makes perfect. That you'll become more comfortable or strong over time the more you do something.

But what people need to realize is, with physical disabilities and chronic illnesses, pushing yourself in most cases is DETRIMENTAL. Pushing yourself past your limits can lead to flare ups or further injury. That's why it's important to know your limits, how certain activities may affect your condition, and learn how to either adapt or get help to complete the activity in question.

Also, most of us are already pushing ourselves. Most of us don't have access to the help or equipment we need. Most of us live in places where we frequently encounter inaccessible obstacles. Most of us NEED to rest.

So please don't try to be our physical therapists or doctors. There are people specifically trained to help us navigate our own conditions and limitations. There are people trained to help us strengthen our body's resilience without causing flare-ups or injury. Do not tell us "it'll be good for you" or "you need the exercise" when we say something is too heavy or too far or when we say we need our mobility aid(s). Your friend with depression may need to be encouraged to get out of bed, but your friend with chronic illness definitely doesn't.

Respect our rest.

[shimmershy]

*But it wasn't funny.

Chara Week Day 3: Laughter

[Image Description: An Undertale comic that takes place in the True Lab. Panel 1: Frisk and Chara stand side-by-side, looking at something off-screen to the right. Frisk looks scared and is hugging themself while holding a stick. Chara, a ghost, is translucent and has a similar look of distress on their face. Panel 2: The amalgamate that resembles Snowdrake stands at the opposite end of the room, saying "Sn...o...wy..." Panel 3: A close up of Frisk's face. There are tears in their eyes. They hold their stick in front of themself as they open their mouth to speak, but Chara cuts them off with a laugh from off-screen. Panel 4: Chara holds a hand up to their face, smiling with their eyebrows knit together. They say, "...hehe. You laugh, and keep laughing." Panel 5: Chara is laughing in the foreground, hovering with their knees curled up to their chest and their arms wrapped around themself. They say, "It's SO funny, you can't stop." Frisk is in the background glancing sideways at them with concern. Panel 6: A closeup of Chara's face on a black background. They're laughing even harder and covering their eyes with their hand as tears run down their face. They say, "Tears run down your face." Panel 7: Chara looks to the side at Frisk, hand still covering one side of their face and still smiling, but their laughter dies out. They say, "... What?" Panel 8: Chara floats on a black background, alone, beside Frisk's red soul. They ask, "You didn't do that?" /End ID]

[kaiserouo]

"Huh."

[handweavers]

ive said this before but it's hard being an lgbt malaysian and listening to western lgbt people freak out over things that have been our reality the entire time. i've had to come to terms with the fact that i'll likely never be able to legally transition in malaysia, will never be able to change my name or gender on documents and it will probably remain illegal for me to use public bathrooms, seek medical care, exist in public, do literally anything as a trans person there for the rest of my life. i am not happy about this and i am luckier than most having the ability to medically transition in canada but i'm always hyperaware that this can be taken away from me at any moment (and is likely to in the near future with the slow death of liberalism in canada as well), that whenever i return i'm at risk of imprisonment if i'm caught by the wrong person, and i know the reality of what life is like for people back home who do not have the privileges i do. but the thing is that even in malaysia trans people use the bathroom and exist in public and have jobs and fall in love and see the doctor and it is possible to carve out a life that is not wholly built upon despair. it's really really fucking hard and scary but we do it anyway because we have to. so it's just really hard to stomach white people in like california freaking out like it's impossible to live in these circumstances or no one else could possibly understand, sorry

[citrusandrottefruit]

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Over the centuries, many poets, writers, painters, and sculptors were suspected of having Hanahaki. It seemed appropriate for an artist. A disease as poetic as it was tragic.

That's why, despite its rarity, Hanahaki was a famous disease.

Books, movies, plays, songs. It wasn't uncommon to find some portrayal of Hanahaki in the media. Everyone had some romantic and silly idea of ​​what it was like to have Hanahaki.

Usually, this knowledge was limited to emotional triggers and the fact that the sufferer lived with a chest full of roots. Sometimes, people believed that Hanahaki could be cured through love.

Steve hated that idea.

Because he knew nothing would cure him. He could get a lung transplant, a heart transplant, a liver transplant, a kidney transplant, or any other organ that failed. The most likely outcome was his lungs. He would probably need a lung transplant one day, considering how much scar tissue he had accumulated in his chest. Pulmonary fibrosis was a bitch.

But he wouldn't be cured, he would just have more time.

His mother had managed to improve her quality of life by following Mr. Harrington around the world. They even seemed quite happy sometimes. Steve figured that staying away from him, having few feelings for him, helped too, after all, he was one less thing for Mrs. Harrington to worry about, since she put most of her feelings into her husband.

And if not even his mother, who understood him better than anyone else in the world, was capable of truly loving him, who would be?

Hanahaki could not be cured through love, and Steve preferred it that way, or he would have to face the reality that he was not loved as much as he wanted.

But Hanahaki could be controlled as long as he was on medication, treating the complications, monitoring the disease, and having a support network. People who would take care of him, who would not hurt him so easily. Being loved so intensely helped, because his body would understand love. It would not cure the disease, but it would ensure a slower progression, giving his body more time to recover.

The positive side of the Upside Down was this. Steve gained the children, Robin and Eddie. With Eddie, came Wayne. And even Joyce and Hopper cared immensely for him, even if they were more busy being the parents their children deserved. Nancy and Jonathan were a more complicated subject, and yet they were trustworthy.

Steve found himself surrounded by more love, loyalty and protection than he could have ever dreamed of.

The negative side, besides all the trauma, was that having so many people close to his heart meant that each of them had immense power over Steve, and, except for Robin, none of them knew it.

So when Eddie and Wayne left, he smiled and accepted it graciously. He tried to help them move, but his health had become increasingly declining and they rejected any help. Instead, he simply wandered around their new house, watching as the people he had grown to love, who shared so much of his pain, fears, and traumas, helped make it a home.

When he got tired, Steve decided to sit in the garden and eventually fell asleep there.

That was another thing Steve had learned to hate: it seemed like the disease had decided to finish him off. Even though he had been sick for most of his life, everything was manageable, easy to hide except for the flare-ups. When the flare-ups were over, he would bounce back and be his old self again. A tired, aching, constantly medicated young man. Not anymore.

He would have terrible days, get a little better, and then have a worse day. It was like taking 3 steps back, 2 steps forward, and then 2 steps back again.

It had become impossible to go a whole day without taking at least one nap.

When he woke up, restless and with his heart racing, it was still light out, so it couldn't have been that long. Robin was there, staring at him intently through her hair, her eyes a little teary.

"You scared me, Dingus." Steve blinked, still feeling a bit of the brain fog that was becoming more and more common. "Your parents still pay for your health insurance, don't they?"

For the next three weeks, Steve and Robin were absent from activities and meetings with everyone else a lot. Steve because he had to go for tests, Robin because she wanted to be with him through it all.

"It's good that you have such a great girlfriend, Steve." The doctor, who had known Steve for years, commented almost too happily. "It'll be good for your health." The look of pity she usually wore when she met Steve seemed softer.

He had some blocked bile ducts, and they put in biliary stents. His platelets were low, and he received a transfusion. Since there were too many remnants of roots in his chest and throat, Steve had to stay in the hospital for two nights, dissolving and aspirating everything, to make sure he would be okay to go home.

He was also given a vitamin supplement, his medication was adjusted, and he discovered that he would need beta blockers to slow his heart rate and reduce the chances of having an upper gastrointestinal hemorrhage.

They also discussed the possibility of another surgery. Steve refused.

On the way home, Robin tried to convince him to accept it, to remove all the roots, every single one of them. “I don’t want to. With each surgery, there are more scars.”

“Who cares about a few scars? Steve! You… You never did, why now? Nobody gives a shit about that, and if some girl complains about it, she doesn’t deserve you!”

“On my lungs, Robin. I don’t think it’s worth another surgery right now, because it’ll just give me more scar tissue. They’re too deep, so it’s probably better to wait for them to get worse rather than dig through my chest to rip them out. Eventually, I’ll need a transplant, I guess, and I figure it’s better to put off unnecessary risks until there’s no other option. I don’t know. Does that make sense? I don’t want to have another surgery, just to delay the inevitable. Maybe it’s stupid, but…”

He paused, trying to find ways to say what he wanted to say.

“Sometimes I think if I keep doing all this, I’ll be so patched up that there won’t be anything left in the end. It’s stupid, isn’t it?” Steve laughed self-deprecatingly.

After that, they sat in silence until they reached Steve's apartment, and before they went in, Robin grabbed his hand and looked into his eyes with such intensity that he wanted to squirm.

"I'll be your donor, Steve. I have two perfectly healthy lungs."

"Robin…" She swung her arms so aggressively that she almost hit the door, and Steve's hand, which was still between hers, froze in midair. Robin's eyes widened even more, and she pulled his hand again desperately, as if letting go would make him disappear into thin air.

“If I’m not a match, I’ll steal it, Dingus. I swear I’ll steal all the organs you need with my own hands.”

Steve laughed and hugged him, because what else was there to do?

They spent the whole night snuggled up on the couch, watching movies until they fell asleep. Steve, who spent the whole day taking naps and had insomnia at night, woke up after a few hours, as usual, and almost went to Eddie’s room, before he remembered that Eddie wasn’t there anymore.

Steve coughed, just a little, with longing.

He looked at Robin, illuminated by the soft glow of the television, then looked out onto the balcony and, despite his better judgment, woke her up, who was alarmed until she realized he was smiling.

"I’m in love with Eddie."

[royaltea000]

haha albino ass 🫵

[t3chborb]

I'm feeling like trash rn because I'm sick, so I've made it my blorbo's problem. (...Ignore the fact robots can't get sick, just pretend he's low on battery or whatever lmao)

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

i’ve said this before and the people will hate me for repeating it but i am being sooooo fucking serious when i say suguru is a lot more jealous than satoru

[scoriarose]

She came up with a new activity

[cozybells]

tbh I just wanted to draw Bonnie but she and Tangerine always come together