Y’all every got that moment when u…

Someone: very easy to understand question

Me: brain needs to reboot gimme a sec

Someone: repeats question

Me: buts into question coz my brain caught up

I think my new approach to my mental health shenanigans is to just assume I have autism along with my already diagnosed adhd. I get really upset sometimes and now that I’ve been reading about autistic shutdowns/internalized meltdowns, and external meltdowns, it’s possible that those are what i’ve been experiencing. TW mentions of minor self harm under the cut

Yesterday was probably my worst one, I actually hit myself and my pillows and yelled. They’re not super common, but when they’ve happened before I never yelled because I couldn’t or I would get in trouble (which I think would be relatively normal if I was yelling curses). I’ve hit myself on the head a couple times before but never as much as I did yesterday, and also my legs. The past “events” have been mostly sobbing and silent screaming into my pillow- or freezing up completely. I’ve only gone completely nonverbal twice to my memory.

Internally, they’ve felt like I was at war with myself in my head. I yelled at myself and cried and begged myself to stop being mean to myself, and then yelled at myself more. My thoughts have raced uncontrollably to the point where I wanted them to just stop completely but I can’t get them to stop and it has always been very stressful and frustrating. It feels like the world is ending. I always thought these were panic attacks.

Anyway, my final thought is that regardless of whether I am actually adhd + autistic, or just adhd + anxiety, I’m going to try using the (healthy) coping skills that go along with meltdowns to see if that helps. If I feel one coming on (I read this is called “rumble stage”), I will get myself into a more quiet environment and probably under my weighted blanket, as I’ve historically curled up under my normal blanket in bed. I also would like to get a toy or something I can hit and a toy I can break apart methodically, as I have torn apart light cardboard-think of cereal boxes- to calm myself down before.

My triggers have been mostly changes to my “routine” or abnormal events, or uncomfortable feelings all day. I have PMDD so I get very uncomfortable physical symptoms during certain days of my cycle, and a day of unshakable discomfort doesn’t help.

everybody go home. this is my magnum opus

Peter Parker, terrible at lying, trying to explain why he’s in Wade Wilson’s apartment without revealing that he’s there for Spiderman related reasons, looking the Avenger’s straight in the eyes and claiming he’s Wade’s life coach

Attempting to get the beast used to a dental hygiene routine is… well, it’s going.

(She stayed that way for a solid 8 seconds despite hating being held belly up so I think it’s safe to say that Mim is not beating the ‘tiny speaker playing elevator music instead of a brain’ allegations any time soon.)

Star Wars needs a ‘what-if’ series like marvel did. Or they need to like do the original endings they had for the shows and movies before they switched it. I just need an alternative reality where everything’s okay and nothing hurts.

🍤🍤 RIP Anomalocaris, fly high in shrimp heaven king 🍤🍤

lok was truly so crazy for being like yeah the season 1 villain is an allegory for maoism?? except he’s literally not a communist in any meaningful way bc he never once even mentions the issue of uh. class. and season 2’s villain is ostensibly a theocrat who exploits his religious/spiritual authority to exert neocolonial control over a recently independent territory/people but all he really wants is to fuse with the personification of chaos and plunge the world into darkness for ten thousand years. and season 3’s villains are an anarchist terror cell who do have clearly defined goals and advocate for proletarian rule but also they’re fucked up little sadist freaks who love chaos and torturing teenagers. and season 4’s villain is a fascist ethnonationalist dictator and she’s gonna be the ONLY character in the entire show to mention that the ostensibly independent city state where most of the show’s plot has taken place is literally a fire nation neocolony proxy state on stolen earth kingdom land. the famously anarchist character who values independent personal freedom and hates nothing more than being told what to do and telling people what to do is now the agent of said neocolonial state in the form of being the literal chief of police. who gives a shit about her arc as an abused disabled girl who fights to assert her power and autonomy while also learning to accept her own vulnerability around the people she loves, and how that narrative might be personally meaningful to many disabled people. she’s a cop now. oh, and the firstborn son of the pacifist monk who had to fight tooth and nail to assert his values as the sole survivor of the genocide against his people is now a military general, again, for the army of said neocolonial proxy state. the kid who was orphaned as a child and grew up on the street fighting to survive another day is helplessly stupid and naive and his only purpose is to chew the scenery in increasingly less funny, more obnoxious ways. if you were expecting the even remotely coherent politics of atla, a story fundamentally about the struggle to resist imperialist violence both as a target of it and from within the imperial core while grappling with your identity and the impetus to preserve your cultural heritage in the face of genocide, then you’re shit out of luck, because that show was made in the bush era, back when liberals protesting the iraq war and implicating americans in their role in upholding imperialist agendas was acceptable. but this is the obama era, so of course you can still deport people at staggering records and drone strike civilians and worship at the altar of capitalism, as long as you remember that reinforcing the status quo through implicit violence is good as long as you’re a queer disabled brown woman!!! more woman of color chiefs of police!!! more bisexual woman ceos!!!! more indigenous war profiteers!!!! more hot girl ethnostates!!! absurd fucking show…

I just skimmed through the art part of your blog and holy bajeebus your LMK art is so beautiful and the headcanon ideas you come up with are so good I wanna steal em-

Kinda wanna see like a part 2 of the little angst you did between MK and Macaque a while ago. It's so interesting and I wanna see Macaque's reaction in your art style. (You don't have to of course, it's just a suggestion [idk if i spelled that right])

Thanks for reading and hope you have a good day/night!

Hope this is to your liking ^^

Part one here

Once again, I am thinking of Nana’s line

So even if I die one of these days,

We can always meet again

Within One For All.

Romantic, right?

I’ve started referring to fandom’s tendency to heterosexualize mlm relationships as the Sterek Effect. yk, when you have one dude always feminized to high hell while the other becomes an egregiously hyper-masculine caricature of himself??

they could be the same height, age, status, build, temperament, physical prowess…doesn’t matter. one’s in a short skirt and the other can bench press 873 pounds.

Rest

Guess what? I've got more Jamil x reader for y'all. You can also find this on ao3. No warnings, just 866 words of kinda fluffy(?) caretaking stuff with gender-neutral reader.

At this point, you know Jamil’s schedule almost as well as he does. So, when you have the chance, you head to Scarabia’s kitchen, hoping to spend some time with Jamil while he and the other students prepare dinner. 

However, when you enter, it takes you but a moment to notice Jamil’s uncharacteristic fumbling and the tired look in his eyes. The way Jamil’s chopping the vegetables has you worried about him cutting himself with that knife he’s usually so adept with, and it seems it’s only force of habit that’s keeping him on track.

You frown, and when your eyes meet Jamil’s, you can already see him put his guard up.

So he knows what state he is in, huh? And still, here he is.

It seems Jamil is reading your thoughts, all of him telling you drop it before any words are even said.

At least he still lets you lean in and give a quick kiss to his cheek in greeting.

“Hello love. Do you still have a lot on your agenda for today?” you ask, keeping your tone low for at least some semblance of privacy in the busy kitchen.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” is the response you get.

Of course.

It takes a little more pestering before Jamil actually answers your question. Your lips purse. That list is far too long to your liking.

You take a moment to think, juggling your own plans and to-do list against the urgency of the things Jamil mentioned.

“Will Kalim be eating from that?” you ask, pointing at the food Jamil is preparing.

“Yes.”

“Alright, I won’t be touching that one, then. I’ve gotta do a few things but I’ll be back when you’re done here.”

“Don’t,” Jamil says with a glare, clearly aware of what you’re thinking.

Yet even his disapproving look doesn’t have the usual weight behind it.

“Yes. I will,” you say firmly, even as your heart curls inwards with another bout of concern.

Really, when did he get so tired?

And how did you not notice it earlier?

You leave the kitchen before Jamil can protest further, hurrying through the dorm corridors to find Kalim.

Soon you have an enthusiastic – and concerned – supporter for your plans. You have Kalim point out a few reliable Scarabia students to help with a few of the most urgent matters Jamil mentioned – cleaning up the common areas, delivering some paperwork to Crowley, preparing some dorm-wide notices – while you see to Kalim getting his school supplies in order for the following day. You even recruit a couple of third years to help Kalim with his homework.

You’ll see to the rest tomorrow – after all, you do also have a boyfriend to look after.

Your conversation over dinner can hardly be called anything else than an argument – despite Kalim’s best attempts at acting as a moderating force between you two. It is very tempting to ask Kalim to tell Jamil to take the rest of the day off – it’s not like Jamil would be willing to openly disobey a direct order. Still, you really don’t need to remind Jamil of his position on top of everything else that you’re already doing more or less against his wishes.

Eventually, however, Jamil’s had a square meal, the most urgent things on his to-do list are being taken care of, and you’ve managed to drag him to his bed.

“I really wish you wouldn’t push yourself so hard,” you murmur, your arms wrapped tightly around Jamil. You’re telling yourself you really do just want to cuddle, to offer some respite to Jamil. Still, there might also be a part of you worried that if you were to let go, he’d just jump up and get back to working himself to the bone.

Yet, for all his protestations, just the fact that you’ve gotten Jamil to lay down with you speaks volumes of his current exhaustion.

“I can’t just leave my duties, albi. You know this.”

“Making yourself too indispensable, is what you’re doing,” you protest.

Oh, you know it’s not so simple. Not with his background, not with all the expectations and assumptions.

But sometimes you really wish it would be.

Jamil merely scoffs in response to your words.

Still, it is undeniable that he is slowly beginning to relax in your arms, slowly bringing his head closer to yours. His eyes are starting to flutter, too.

“I will still need to help Kalim with his homework, at the very least.”

You wonder who he is trying to convince more, you or himself.

“Amin and Khalil are helping him. They’re basically top of their classes, aren’t they? I’m sure they’ve got it.”

Still, Jamil frowns.

You sigh. He really is not letting go, is he?

“Do you want me to go supervise?” you ask.

And leave you, unsaid yet hanging there right after your words.

“Don’t,” Jamil eventually says, the word barely more than a breath.

It seems he has accepted his fate.

You softly caress Jamil’s hair, listening to his softening breathing.

And when you wake up, wholly unaware of having been lulled to sleep in the first place, it’s to the lightest of touches from Jamil’s fingers.

Tagging @diodellet @twstgo @crystallizsch @jamilvapologist @jamilsimpno69 as per request If you'd like to be tagged for any future works, let me know!

One of the main reasons why I used to avoid Isekai’s, and fantasy works in general, like the plague is because of how over saturated they’d become with things that didn’t feel like they even belonged to the genre to begin with… it’s not too hard to find works that stand out but so much of those works have been pushed down and forgotten, it just sucks.

i feel weird when people credit the hito hito no mi model nika for luffy’s good deeds because luffy isnt kind and frees people because of his devil fruit, he’s kind because its who he is &it’s the type of person he’s grown to be. its because luffy has these traits that his devil fruit chose him & he was able to awaken it

Think about how Saria spent years in betrayal and anger, driven for justice, searching out all of Rhine Lab’s wrongdoings, developing her philosophy on what science is for, all to right the course of the thing she build together with Kristen, who she dedicated her life to.

Kristen, the child of her idols. Kristen, her first love. Kristen, who she promised to protect.

Kristen, who betrayed her.

Kristen, who took advantage of her devotion.

Kristen, who designed a weapon against her, against the formula they came up with together.

Kristen, who is harming the very people they set out together to serve.

Kristen, who she’ll judge and bring back to the right path.

Kristen, who she never fully understood.

Kristen, whose plans she needs to stop. Kristen, who might bring the whole world tumbling down as she achieves her dream.

Kristen, who she slowly realizes is going to die in pursuit of her dream, just like her parents.

She tanks an anti-tank weapon to the head. She fights against an ancient caster and warrior. She fights the very people she trained, the knights that protect and serve Kristen. She saves her kid, finally. She learns to rely on others, to communicate. She reconciles with her partner. She flies a plane up, up into the upper atmosphere (just like the Wrights), through a combat zone, and docks it on a moving station. She learns to let go of her careful control of her every move, to act spontaneously, decisively.

All this to reach Kristen. To stop her.

But when she finally meets her… That’s her childhood friend. Her first love.

She fights her, endures her power, one last time, taking step by painful step toward her. She tells her she’s wrong about science, shares the philosophy and perspective she’s built over the years to stop her from harming people, to fight the culture that birthed them.

But really, she’s trying to talk Kristen down. You were wrong to do this. Give it up. Your dream is beautiful. Come with me. You finally achieved your parents’ dream. We can still survive this. I don’t doubt that this will affect the entire world. Watch it with me. I can still save you. The escape pods are gone? I’ll calcify us together—use the arts we developed together—and we’ll fall together; maybe we’ll survive, maybe we won’t. I’ll do everything I can, even if it’s doomed. Let me save you. Please. Please let me protect you.

And Kristen, who never lost faith in her, who knew Saria would reach her, who always wanted to share the truth, her moment of triumph, the fate she had chosen for herself with the woman she loves, who knew Saria would never leave her by choice and installed a trapdoor in her dreamer’s space pod so that she could live on… presses the button.

And Saria, after her long, long climb, falls. The final stage of the rocket to Kristen’s dream, falling away.

What must it be like, as she fell, to realize she spent her whole life helping Kristen assemble her space program? That when Kristen used to look up at the stars, she was not just seeing the past, her parents’ deaths, the legacy she has to uphold; she was seeing this future she had always planned for herself. That this was always the wish that Saria devoted herself to protecting.

And she kept her promise.