#i cannot okay

[mobius-m-mobius]

#the Nowhere Man who waits and the God of Stories who watches

[egophiliac]

starting off with an amuse-bouche of some of my initial favorite bits! y'all, this update was WILD.

[kaiju-krew]

she knows whats up that one new clip

[royalphantompain]

[icaruspendragon]

something the women in my family are absolutely flabbergasted by every time it comes up is the fact that i don’t own a scale.

“how do you know how much you weigh??” they cry.

“i don’t.” i simply respond.

“you look thinner, have you lost weight?” they ask at christmas.

“i dunno.” i say as i check on the turkey.

“you look bigger, have you gained weight?” they probe, as if my weight rests on their shoulders.

“i’m not sure, but it’s fine if i have.” i respond with a casualness they cannot comprehend.

“don’t you want to know if you’ve lost or gained?” they inquire over cups of coffee and a plate of untouched cookies.

“i do.” i take a sip. “which is why i don’t need to know.”

“we don’t understand.” they say.

“i’ll drive myself mad if i know. it’s been a question i’ve been looking for the answer to since i was in the seventh grade and my weight was the topic of conversation for the first time; the stretch marks on my calves puberty brought being questioned and condemned. and so i started weighing myself once a day. then twice a day. i gained weight as i grew and was told to stop. i got depressed when i was 16 and the weight i gained was more concerning than the scars on my thighs. the critiques turned to compliments during my first year of college when i’d started skipping meals and my body had to feed itself because i wouldn’t. everyday i stepped on the scale and smiled as i watched that number get smaller and smaller. hunger felt like victory. i started doing drugs that took away my appetite and then my strength. and started feeling guilt when my stomach felt full. and suddenly every time i looked in the mirror i hated what i saw. the more weight i lost, the better i was supposed to feel. each remark on another part of my body lost felt like a slap to the face. i was told i looked good but i knew i wasn’t good enough. and so i tried harder. and then i started to get dizzy when i stood. and i ignored it like i’d learned to ignore my hunger. and then one day at work i dropped like the weight that was never enough after i bending at the waist to grab a milk cap from the floor. and when the darkness faded, i was surrounded by panic as an ambulance was called. and then i was tested and prodded and poked because they thought something was wrong with my heart. and the problem persisted but they never found out why. but i’d known all along. and then i left home and its scale behind. and moved into a new home that was mine. so i bought plates and sheets and art for the walls. but i didn’t buy a scale. then every time i walked down an aisle i’d see the them and pause. and i’d think about the hunger i now kept at bay. and even though i didn’t know how much i weighed, i didn’t notice my body had changed. and i’d think about how i hadn’t been dizzy for months. and how i hadn’t fainted for longer. and then i’d keep on walking. and now most days i like how i look.”

“but don’t you want to be skinny?” comes their quiet response.

“i want to be myself in whatever body i have.”

they stare in disbelief. so i shrug my shoulders, and grab a cookie. and i smile at them as i swallow the first bite.

[nkogneatho]

when you first met itadori jin, you thought he was so sweet and kind. he was always a little nerdy when he talked about things he loved. "sorry i got carried away" was something he'd often say because he thought he was bothersome. but you never thought that. you liked when his eyes lit up at the silliest science theories. you loved that he was so considerate.

but you know what they say?? nerds are the kinkiest people. when you told jin you want him to fuck you, he turned red. but you had to say it out loud because he wouldn't. he respected you. that, until he had you bent over the couch. you'd never thought he'd be so rough. but that is the thing. he was so unconscious about it. his silly science addicted brain inspected your hole and he knew you'd be able to take it with a little stretching. his large hands were on your back, pushing you further into couch. you had to turn your face to the side to make sure you don't suffocate against the cushion.

"shhh don't move, my dear. i am doing this f'you." his cock was buried deep inside but he wasn't moving. "didn't you say you wanted to do it? i need to make sure you don't get hurt in the process—ahhh fuck don't squeeze me, darling." you couldn't help it. your cunt ached for his thrusts. "i am sorry my dick is too big for you baby. but i am a good boyfriend, right? mmm shit...'n good boyfriends always give their pretty girlfriend what she asks for." he collected your wetness with his fingers and licked them. "mhmm fhuck sweetheart. knew this pretty pussy was sweet the way she was throbbing when i was inspecting her. go on, lovie...tell her to make more juices for your kind boyfriend." jin wasn't even aware how dirty the thing he was saying sounds. he just thought it was normal. he finally thrusted once and you cried out his name, unexpecting the sudden jolt. "feels good, right?" you moaned out a yes. "of course it feels good. now..." he grabbed your waist, "time to marry your pussy with my cock, darling."

[murdockbuckley]

chimney "chronic migraines" han (it's why he's always chewing gum)

bobby "chronic back pain" nash (broke his back before la, has had buildings collapse on it multiple times since, like in mayday)

evan "chronic leg/whole body pain, insomniac, HoH" buckley (he got crushed by a truck and then struck by lightning come on now)

eddie "chronic pain" diaz (he's been shot so many times)

can't believe i forgot him but:

ravi "in remission" panikkar

[inkskinned]

you were raised in comparison.

it wasn't always obvious (well. except for the times that it was), but you internalized it young. you had to eat what you didn't like, other people are going hungry, and you should be grateful. you had to suck it up and walk on the twisted ankle, it wasn't broken, you were just being a baby. you were never actually suffering, people obviously had it worse than you did.

you had a roof over your head - imagine! with the way you behaved, with how you talked back to your parents? you're lucky they didn't kick you out on your ass. they had friends who had to deal with that. hell, you have friends who had to deal with that. and how dare you imply your father isn't there for you - just because he doesn't ever actually talk to you and just because he's completely emotionally checked out of your life doesn't mean you're not fucking lucky. think about your cousins, who don't even get to speak to their dad. so what if yours has a mean streak; is aggressive and rude. at least you have a father to be rude to you.

you really think you're hurting? you were raised in a home! you had access to clean water! you never so much as came close to experiencing a real problem. sure, okay. you have this "mental illness" thing, but teenagers are always depressed, right. it's a phase, you'll move on with your life.

what do you mean you feel burnt out at work. what do you mean you mean you never "formed healthy coping mechanisms?" we raised you better than that. you were supposed to just shoulder through things. to hold yourself to high expectations. "burning out" is for people with real jobs and real stress. burnout is for people who have sick kids and people who have high-paying jobs and people who are actually experiencing something difficult. recently you almost cried because you couldn't find your fucking car keys. you just have lost your sense of gratitude, and honestly, we're kind of hurt. we tell you we love you, isn't that enough? if you want us to stick around, you need to be better about proving it. you need to shut up about how your mental health is ruined.

it could be worse! what if you were actually experiencing executive dysfunction. if you were really actually sick, would you even be able to look at things on the internet about it? you just spend too much time on webMD. you just like to freak yourself out and feel like you belong to something. you just like playing the victim. this is always how you have been - you've always been so fucking dramatic. you have no idea how good you have it - you're too fucking sensitive.

you were like, maybe too good of a kid. unwilling to make a real fuss. and the whole time - the little points, the little validations - they went unnoticed. it isn't that you were looking for love, specifically - more like you'd just wanted any one person to actually listen. that was all you'd really need. you just needed to be witnessed. it wasn't that you couldn't withstand the burden, but you did want to know that anyone was watching. these days, you are so accustomed to the idea of comparison - you don't even think you belong in your own communities. someone always fits better than you do. you're always the outlier. they made these places safe, and then you go in, and you are just not... quite the same way that would actually-fit.

you watch the little white ocean of your numbness lap at your ankles. the tide has been coming in for a while, you need to do something about it. what you want to do is take a nap. what you want to do is develop some kind of time machine - it's not like you want your life to stop, not completely, but it would really nice if you could just get everything to freeze, just for a little while, just until you're finished resting. but at least you're not the worst you've been. at least you have anything. you're so fucking lucky. do you have any concept of the amount of global suffering?

a little ant dies at the side of your kitchen sink. you look at its strange chitinous body and think - if you could just somehow convince yourself it is enough, it will finally be enough and you can be happy. no changes will have to be made. you just need to remember what you could lose. what is still precious to you.

you can't stop staring at the ant. you could be an ant instead of a person, that is how lucky you are. it's just - you didn't know the name of the ant, did you. it's just - ants spend their whole life working, and never complain. never pull the car over to weep.

it's just - when it died, it curled up into a tight little ball.

something kind of uncomfortable: you do that when you sleep.

[crippledasinfuckyou]

sometimes a healthy relationship isn't 50/50 because it can't be, and that's okay.

disabled people who cannot take on an equal portion of the work in a relationship deserve to be loved too, if that's what they want. and as long as their partner is getting the support they need, and is happy to take on that work, then what's the issue? it's nobodys business but your own the way that works in your relationship.

if you or your partner are disabled, and you can't split the work in the relationship 50/50, that's okay. you're not abusive, or a baby, or unloveable because of that. I promise

[chaotic-carnifex]

No hold on I'm gonna make an extra post about this:

I wouldn't choose to be alloromantic

If I were given the choice to either remain aro or become alloro again, I would choose aromanticism.

And I think a lot of people need to hear that.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Welcome to the Dungeons of Fear and Hunger.

[sugarflow]

mv2 with ugoku ugoku :)

[obsob]

there he is......the man of the house

[soup-du-silence]

I am drowning There is no sign of land You are coming down with me Hand in unlovable hand

sometimes when art is hard and I can't execute an idea, I draw it with 350% more corners and it turns out kind of okay

[andr0nap]

pirate au stuff i never did anything with but i still really like the designs

[uncanny-tranny]

I think it would really benefit people to internalize that mental illnesses are often chronic and not acute. Some of us will never be able to jump the hurdle of managing illness, much less sustaining a sense of normalcy. Many of us will never "recover," will never manage symptoms, will never even come close to appearing normal - and this is for any condition, even the ones labeled as "simple" disorders or "easy-to-manage" disorders.

It isn't a failure if you cannot manage your symptoms. It isn't a moral failure, and you aren't an awful person. You are human. There's only so much you can do before recognizing that you cannot lift the world. Give yourself the space to be ill because, functionally, you are.