#haha im back

[westywallowing]

matching tats for the band !!🌅👻

[windy-witch43]

Chapter 3: Onion Soup

Wilson whimpered audibly as he cowered in the giants palm. He felt himself being lowered before he was released onto the cool tiles of a counter. Without even thinking, he took off running. He didn't get far however as he plummeted into the large, cold basin of a sink. He leaped up and tried to jump out, only to have a glass jar slammed over him. He was lifted out of the sink and placed back on the counter. He uncurled from his terrified cower before looking around his dimly lit surroundings. Softly burning candles lit the room as herbs hung from a drying rack above him. Braids of onions and garlic sat on nails that were tapped into the sides of cupboards. A bundle of carrots, jars of spices and a pile of onions were already placed next to him. A kitchen...oh god.

He knew that to a tiny, other than in a giants stomach, a giants kitchen is the worst place you can be. He pressed his palms onto the walls of his glass prison as the mime left his view and came back with a large, copper soup pot. Wilson gulped. The mimes hands reached past Wilson and retrieved a large kitchen knife. Just like that, Wilson fainted. Fading in and out of consciousness, the poor man covered his ears and began to cry knowing that with every chop, every sizzle and every stir that he heard, his demise was growing nearer and nearer. "Wilson P Higgsbury...cooked into a giants soup and never seen again..." he wept as he heard the pot begin to boil. After a few gut renching minutes of hopeless dread, the jar lifted away from him. Before he could scamper away, giant fingers curled around his body and raised him up off the counter. "No! Nooo!" Wilson cried. "Please, sir! Have mercy!" He covered his eyes as he was placed onto a wood surface. This was it. He was a goner. Everything was still. Then, he felt a gentle prodding on his head. With teary eyes, he slowly lifted his trembling and met the large brown eyes of the mime. He sniffled as he began to realize..it was ok.

He wasn't being harmed, this was no butchers block! It was a table but he didn't seem to be the dinner. He looked back into the mimes worry filled eyes before slowly sitting up, still keeping a hesitant crouch. The clown smiled sweetly and stroked the tiny mans black hair before offering him something. A tiny bowl, just his size, of onion soup. He looked down into the toasty brown broth with little bits of herbs bobbing around inside. It smelled delicious! He was about to dig in before pausing. "Y-you..aren't going to eat me?" He peeped. The mime reached over and gently caressed his tiny face with his thumb before shaking his head, a sweet smile on his painted face. Wilson shoved the mimes hand away and jumped in anger. "Why didn't you say anything then?!" He yelled. "I was terrified!" The mime pulled his hand away, looking a little bit hurt. He pressed his fingers to his throat, tapping softly. Wilson blushed in embarrassment. "O-oh..I-I'm terribly sorry..." he sat down. "I didn't realize.."

The mime was a mute.

[tawnysoup]

Learning to accept support

[inkskinned]

i love my therapist but i hate being in therapy. 10 minutes before my appointment, i'm in a meeting with my boss - we discuss my artistic choices; my boss recommends i artistically choose less. 10 minutes after therapy, i wash my hair and think about everything that was said, and then i have to switch it off, like a lamp, and go back to work again.

i was on a walk the other day and someone had the perfect combination of his cologne and whatever-else. it was almost exactly his scent. i fucking hate that. after all these years, i remember that? i tell my therapist - i feel like a fucking wolf. try telling a middle-aged blonde lady. oh i scented him on the air. i'm 30, and i'm having a panic attack over something that would be a plotline in the omegaverse.

what they don't tell you about mental illness is that if you are lucky enough to survive it into adulthood; it becomes a weird slice of your life. because you do, eventually, have to build a life. i realized in a panic somewhere around 22 - oh. i don't know what i'm fucking doing, because i always assumed i'd just go ahead and die. i didn't die, and i'm grateful for that, and i'm very happy about that choice. but it does mean that i am an adult in an apartment, living with my conditions side-by-side like. oh, that's my roommate, adhd. ignore the glass, bytheway, that's ocd.

so you pick your stupid life up by the scruff of the neck and you're, like glad for it (so much laughter and light and friends you would have never thought possible, when you were in the worst of it). but it feels so strange to be dancing around these odd little microcosms, these patchwork moments of your symptoms. if you have a panic attack at night, you still need to wake up and walk the dog in the morning. if your depression is making everything boring, well, you don't have any sick days left, and a job's not really supposed to be that exciting anyway. your ocd tears out each individual leg hair, and then, an hour later, you sigh, patch up the bloody bits, and go get dinner with friends. and the life is kitten-quiet, mewling and pathetic, but it's also like - it's yours, so you're fond of it.

and it's like - you're real. so you still enjoy pushing the shopping cart really fast and then riding on the back of it down an empty aisle. and you're not, like, so sick anymore that when you accidentally drop a mug you burst into tears (except for the days you do that. which are bad). and no, you're not allowed around certain items anymore. oops! but you've learned to be good about brushing your teeth most days of the week. and yeah sometimes in the middle of the day you have a little freak-out about how fucking unfair it all is, how fucking hard, how other people can just do this without having to fucking hurt the whole time. and then you sigh and force yourself to sit down and fucking journal about it so you can tell the nice middle-aged blonde woman yeah i had a hard day but i practiced grounding. you still sometimes want to burst out of your own skin, but you force yourself to eat kind-of healthy and to take your vitamins. you let yourself chop off all your hair in the sink in a dramatic poetry of control and relief - and you also have developed good hobbies that help you move your body more frequently. you feel helplessly behind, lost in the shuffle - but you also practice gratitude, taking stock of what you have garnered. because you're trying. even if you're never gonna be normal, you have something... close enough.

and the little kitten of your life, this mangy, starlit tigercub, this thing you expected to rot so young: in your arms, it turns itself over, belly-up. exposing this new soft part, all the organs and guts. like it's saying i trust you now. you won't give me up.

[temeyes]

[masterette]

Happy 2023 y’all! 

[marmastry]

Hasa and Maya

Kofi

[kenchann]

sweet dreams

[iknowicanbutwhy]

@chipper-smol I couldn't get the thought out of my head of dragon loop flying on unfamiliar wings away from their problems because obviously that's why they have them haha ha ha

[canon-gabriel-quotes]

Transcript:

EW.

Machine, what the fuck?

That’s so gross! That’s so disgusting!

What’s wrong with you machine?!

Why are you like that?

It’s- it’s kinda hot though. Do it- do it again.

Audio source

[doctorsiren]

more textures ft. Beanix getting into spats 😁

[eriochromatic]

guess what show I binge watched last weekend and now am unhealthily obsessed with

[gaysforbyler]

I still don’t understand how the fandom decided that MIKE was the more emotionally closed off one out of the two of them.

Mike, who spills his guts every time Will so much as looks at him in S4, who calmly explained to El how she hurt him after Will’s body was found in S1, who is famous for giving heartfelt monologues, and is literally seen as the HEART of the Party.

And Will, who lied to his mom about the mind flayer in S2, AND to Mike about the painting, just so he wouldn’t be a bother. Who pretended to like baseball just because it would make Lonnie happy. Who hasn’t told a single soul about being in love for YEARS, and would happily take that secret to his grave.

Yeah, Mike cries less. That doesn’t mean that he isn’t extremely emotionally intelligent, or that Will isn’t constantly suffering in silence. Mike works through his emotions logically, Will bottles them up until he breaks down. The only times Mike actually hides his emotions is when he’s scared. The only times Will DOESNT hide his emotions is when he’s with Mike or Jonathan.

[sleepis4theweak]

This comic is based off my little brother- who I adore to bits- but who also struggles saying "I love you", "I miss you" or "I'm worried about you". Instead of saying those things he tends to do random acts to get my attention and/or cheer me up. When I left for college he brought up a ton of stuff that he had stolen from me over the years and it was honestly very cute. <3

(This is actually months and months old- but I found it the other day and I don't think I ever posted it (maybe???), which is a shame 'cause I remember being really proud of it. If I did post it and I forgot... uhhhh happy repost? Idk)

[temeyes]

when you're a ghostsoap stan, but have urges to self-ship with either of them

[shootingstarrfish]

hello have you seen this boy?

now you have :)