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#FIXATE only this and only this
lottieurl · 7 months
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hyperfixations are so scary like yeah this could be a month long thing or i might be thinking of it everyday seven months from now. no way to tell
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mangozic · 23 days
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archivist be upon ye
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madamemiz · 7 months
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sad: falling out of a hyperfixation
tragic: watching your beloved friends and mutuals fall out of the hyperfixation while you're still in it
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taikk0 · 6 months
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i cant think of a caption i have an exam tomorrow 💀(it is currently 12 am <3)
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hussyknee · 5 months
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I know some dickheads have now decided that Judaism is the "bad, violent, terrorist religion" and Islam is the "good, peaceful" one, which is only to be expected of white people, but how much of an issue is it currently? Like I've seen some USAmericans sharing how the Islamic faith shapes Gazans values and perseverance (good) except with that distinct white hippie "I'm about to imprint on this like the world's most racist duck" vibe (bad), but I didn't think they're already turning on Judaism in numbers.
Do they realize that Christianity is also the same kind of comfort to Christian minorities in Asia and Africa? That it was Buddhists that genocided the Rohingyas in Myanmar and Tamils in Sri Lanka? That Hindu fundamentalists are even now trying to ethnically cleanse Muslims in India? How Hindus and Christians are terrorized and persecuted in Pakistan? That Muslims have a history of persecuting and ethnically cleansing Jews too?
Really tired of asking y'all to be normal about people's religions man. There's no religion that's inherently violent or exceptionally peaceful. It's just like any other ideology that becomes a weapon in the hands of ethnic power. Interrogate power, not religion, and respect people's belief systems insofar as they aren't in your business.
Edit: I've amended the "long history" of Muslim persecution of Jews because it might be misleading in the current political climate. Zionism and antisemitic Arab nationalism are twin births resulting directly from Christian colonization, and Islamic empires tended to actually be more tolerant of other religions compared to Christianity, especially Judaism, which was considered a sibling religion. Antisemitism wasn't ideologically entrenched in Islamic tradition. It's simply that ethno-religious power will lead to ethno religious domination and intermittent cleansing of minorities, and Islam is no exception. Humans be humaning always.
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ao3-crack · 2 years
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(x)
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felix-krain · 29 days
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I am very sane and normal :D
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heymacy · 20 days
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IAN GALLAGHER + his journey with bipolar disorder
╰┈➤ “At times, being bipolar can be an all-consuming challenge, requiring a lot of stamina and even more courage, so if you’re living with this illness and functioning at all, it’s something to be proud of, not ashamed of." - Carrie Fisher
#happy world bipolar day to all my bp babies#(more thoughts at the end of the tags)#shameless#shamelessnet#shamelessedit#ian gallagher#cameron monaghan#*macygifs#bipolar disorder#hello pals how are we doin#i made this gif set in july of 2023 and never posted it because 1) i was terrified to share it and potentially see Bad Takes in the tags#and 2) because my hyperfixation was waning. and while both of those things are still mostly true (the fixation comes and goes)#i feel like it's really important to share as ian's bipolar storyline was not only so vital to his character it was a bit of representation#that isn't often given to the disorder and those (like myself) who live with it every single day#world bipolar day is a day where we can both celebrate ourselves and our resilience and also raise awareness of the reality of the disorder#which is both terrifying and beautiful at its core. this disease is not a death sentence or a sentence to an unfulfilled and miserable life#while there are challenges galore when it comes to balancing life with this disorder it IS possible to live a full and productive life#and i think it's really important to have representation of that in media - and while shameless dropped the ball on a LOT of storylines#over the years THIS is the one they really fucking nailed and i am incredibly grateful#i first started watching shameless while in the midst of a major depressive episode and i was later (finally) diagnosed during an extended#hypo/manic episode - this show and ian's storyline got me through so much and made me feel so seen and validated in my struggles#world bipolar day is also vincent van gogh's birthday (happy birthday buddy) who was posthumously diagnosed with bipolar disorder#and who experienced both depressive and hypo/manic episodes during his lifetime (and was regularly institutionalized)#it takes a lot of help and support to keep us going. it takes the support of our family and friends and *most* of all#it takes patience and kindness and understanding - which is so so so easy to give if you are willing to love and listen#so please. be willing. listen to our stories. be patient with us. show us love without conditions. support us in any way you can.#we are worth it#i promise#anyway. that's really all i wanted to say. happy world bipolar day to those who celebrate (me) and may all of us living with this disorder#go on to live happy fulfilling beautiful magical lives
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disappeareddraws · 11 months
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(text post source)
just a regular convo on the battle subway
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lavaflowe · 4 months
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Drawing Wukong based on the Anthony Yu covers is self care 😌 and I do feel refreshed
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stargirl230 · 11 months
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not this time
I was coloring this sketch for fun...and then I accidentally merged all the layers and everything spiraled from there (this is a platonic hug btw, please don’t tag as ship art!!)
(no reposts; reblogs appreciated)
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hmm-paper-clip · 4 months
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broppy 😿 trolls 3 was sooo good i spent like 5 hours watching all the movies back to back and you should too
bonus bruce ↓
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cuubism · 2 months
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emotional support part 3 of physical therapy au
--
It is not exactly a short walk to Dream's flat, but Hob drops him off at his door anyway. Dream can't remember the last time someone did something like that for him. Took so much time just to make him feel safer.
He should just thank Hob and go in, but instead he hesitates in the entryway. He can't deny how it makes him feel, Hob's kindness, and interest in Dream's art, and then him jumping to Dream's defense so viscerally and unapologetically. Hob is... good. Kind. Dream does not know if he deserves it, but for a moment he allows himself to want it.
"You going to be okay?" Hob asks. His eyes are so kind. And Dream wants. It's been so long since he's wanted.
He leans in to kiss Hob and--
--Hob catches him with a hand against his chest.
Dream jumps back, shame coiling hot in his throat. Even when he thinks someone kind might want him, he is still only misreading--
"Dream," Hob says. His expression is still kind, though his smile is a bit pained. "I can tell you're spiraling, love."
That word again. Why would Hob say it if he does not mean it?
"If I am wholly wrong and you do not feel anything then please just say so," Dream sniffs, trying and failing not to feel completely stupid.
"You're not," Hob says--which catches Dream before he can fall completely into the net of melancholy that had begun to entrap him. "I'm just--" he runs a hand through his hair with a self-deprecating laugh, his general self-assuredness slipping for the first time Dream has seen. "I'm trying to be sensible."
Dream doesn't understand. It's true that Dream is not exactly a sensible choice in partner, that's been proven, but--
"It just doesn't look very good does it?" Hob continues. "Chase off your asshole ex only to come onto you at your own home? That's real respectful, isn't it?"
"I came onto you," Dream points out. Hob wants to be respectful of Dream? The bar is currently low when it comes to respecting Dream. Dream thinks he would rather have the kindness than the respect. "And I do not mind."
"Well, that's the problem, isn't it?" Hob says. "Look, believe it or not, and you'll probably believe it, but I've been widely known to be impulsive as hell. But I still don't want to be the guy jumping on you the moment you get out of a bad relationship."
This... had not truly occurred to Dream. "I do not think you will be like him."
Hob takes his hand then, the bad one, the one he's fixed. He does it carefully. "No, I know. But I'd hazard you didn't think he'd be like that before you got together, either."
"I... suppose not." Hob is different, though. He knows it.
"Let's just finish our work with your hand first, yeah?" Hob says, squeezing his hand lightly. He seems genuine. He does not seem like he is just making up reasons to turn Dream down. "I think you need to get back to some normalcy, and then you'll know for sure if you really want this."
"I do want this," Dream says. He does not want to lose touch with that feeling. Of wanting something for himself.
"Then you'll still feel that way later on, hm?"
Dream can't find fault with his argument. Though he can't help but still feel that little curl of shame. Embarrassment.
Hob raises Dream's hand to his lips and kisses his knuckles. Dream's breath catches.
"Goodnight, Dream," Hob says, letting his hand go again. "I'll see you next week."
And with that, and a smile, he leaves Dream standing in his entryway.
Dream presses his hand to his chest. Perhaps Hob is right. Perhaps he is too... fragile... for this right now. He certainly feels fragile. But Hob makes him feel less so. Not more.
But Hob is not the one who ended up in a relationship with someone who reacted to disappointment by smashing his hand with a hammer. So perhaps Dream should heed his relationship advice, and not his own.
He retreats into his empty flat. Shuts the door, locks it, deadbolts it, and shoves a heavy box of unpacked books in front of it for good measure. Then sits on the floor where there should be a couch and takes out his paints. It still hurts his hand to hold the brush for any length of time. But even to this day, it's the only thing that soothes him.
~~
It's just typical that the time Hob really wants someone is the time he decides he needs to be responsible for once in his life. But he just... he needs time. He needs to know that Dream isn't just... fixating on him because Hob's actually treated him nicely when the last person who cared for him didn't. He doesn't want to do this if Dream is just using him as an emotional rebound from a bad relationship. He's become too enamored with him for that. And he's no king of ideal relationships himself, but he doesn't think it's the best time to be starting a relationship when Dream is still carrying the literal scars of the last one.
Damn if he doesn't regret turning him down, though. Just a little.
He hopes Dream doesn't decide to bail on their regular appointment. In fact, since dropping Dream home, he's been so fixated on the possibility that he fucked it all up that he's stress-cleaned his entire flat. Then he bought finger paints to see for himself how well it works as an exercise. All he's really succeeded in doing is proving that Dream is better at art with one and a half hands than Hob is with two, but maybe it'll make Dream feel better.
He brings his attempt at finger painting to their next appointment. And he's so relieved when Dream does show up. He looks a bit more balanced than he had the other day, too. The hurt in his expression when Hob had turned him down had been painful.
"I decided to try out your exercise," Hob tells him. "To prove to you how well you're doing, if nothing else." He shows him the painting.
And Dream bursts out laughing.
"Hey," Hob protests, but can't stop his smile at the joy on Dream's face. "Don't be mean about it or anything."
"What is this meant to be?" Dream asks, taking the painting and studying it.
"It's a landscape."
Dream turns it ninety degrees. Squints. "Ah, yes, I see that now."
"Well now you're just being a dick about it."
Dream only smiles, then puts the painting away in his bag.
"Oh, you're taking it with you, too?"
"You have mine," says Dream, pointing at the painting of cats that's still propped against the wall by Hob's desk. "So I will put yours on my fridge."
"Oh, great," Hob grumbles. But he can't be upset about the smile on Dream's face.
He's glad to see that putting a pause on things hasn't hurt their developing friendship. If anything it seems better. Perhaps Dream's had time to think things over, too.
"But you see, don't you?" Hob says. "Even while you're recovering, your skills are still way better."
"I... see, yes," Dream agrees, ducking his head. "I. I did try painting again. But it hurts."
Because you're probably overdoing it, Hob thinks. "How's your hand feel now?"
"...Sore," Dream admits.
"Can I see?"
Dream gives him his hand, and Hob feels victorious that it's with less hesitance than he had once done. He starts massaging Dream's palm where it feels the most tense, and watches Dream's wary expression--he must have thought Hob was just going to move his hand this way and that and make it hurt--melt into surprise.
"Do you do this with all of your clients, Hob?" he asks, weakly.
"Only the ones I really like," Hob says, and winks. Can't have Dream thinking he's not interested, after all.
Dream blushes, but lets Hob keep playing with his hand. He really does have such gorgeous hands. If Hob ever runs into that ex again he might have to do more than punch him.
"That helping?" Hob asks, and Dream nods, but he's still blushing so it's somewhat unclear in exactly what manner it's helping.
"Good," Hob says anyway. And finds he's truly hopeful that they'll get there. With Dream's dexterity, with... other things.
It's just going to take a bit of time.
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dizzybizz · 2 months
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sleepy gill and gill with the bubbled evil cat
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shortnotsweet · 5 months
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[ “SOMEBODY TOLD ME”]:
BREAKING MY BACK JUST TO KNOW YOUR NAME. SEVENTEEN TRACKS AND I’VE HAD IT WITH THIS GAME. A BREAKIN’ MY BACK JUST TO KNOW YOUR NAME—BUT HEAVEN AIN’T CLOSE IN A PLACE LIKE THIS.
— The Killers, Hot Fuss (2004)
Princess Rhaenyra’s insolence is wearing her stepmother’s patience thin. Queen Alicent is not ten years her senior, but even during her own sixteenth year, she cannot recall herself behaving so brazenly. She would never burst into courtly discussions in nothing but gilded armor and the underskirts of her riding leathers, awash in blood. (She would never be spotted in blood that was not her own, anyway. Alicent has never picked up a sword, not one that belonged to her.) Nevermind that Rhaenyra is attending to diplomatic affairs with bared teeth and scales, no—the crux of the matter is just that, her affairs. Rhaenyra is the Realm’s Delight, a beauty incomparable to any fair maiden, Alicent included. She indulges herself with appetite of a spoiled child, the confidence of man, and the pickings befitting only to her royal blood. Criston Cole. Daemon Targaryen. Harwin Strong. Laena Velaryon. She’s full of love, isn’t she? That selfish, foolish girl. What does Rhaenyra Targaryen know of love, of duty? She is a child in so many ways—she thinks killing makes her a man, thinks the throne is hers despite being a woman, thinks she can have her knight and her uncle and her protector and Laena Velaryon in one fail swoop. She’s wrong. She doesn’t know herself half as well as Alicent does. Alicent, who sees her for what she truly is, who wants to see all of her and more of her and none of her. Alicent has been stolen into the Keep by her own father—both of their fathers—but Rhaenyra is the key to this place, is the window to everything barred. Rhaenyra Targaryen has a dragon. Rhaenyra can fly.
That’s what Rhaenyra had promised her once, with her lips pulled back in a grin, exposing the white of her teeth like the violently radiant creature she was. “Perhaps when you grow tired of plotting against me, we shall ride on dragonback together,” she had said. The tease.
Alicent had yanked her into an empty corridor by the silk of her sleeve, ready to chastise her for her ill behavior. Conversing with the lords and ladies of the court at a feast was one thing, but chattering about her bloody encounters in battle over the pudding tureen were another. The lord at her elbow was going green. Alicent’s own face was likely red; her heart raced whenever Rhaenyra got like this. Alicent had never seen the battlefield—only seen battered men in dented armor and the slumps of corpses lined along dirt roads in the aftermath of war—but her own imagination terrified her like nothing else.
(Rhaenyra is better with a sword than half of the knights in Westeros, and more lovely than the lot. Her reign has not yet begun, but already the commoners flock to her—lured in by tales of her beauty and fine hair—and soldiers would follow her into battle. Alicent would not follow, but she would watch and bite her nails down to the quick.
She thinks of the figure Rhaenyra cuts in full armor, the heat in her gaze underneath the slots of her helmet. Alicent remembers the weight of her own hand in Rhaenyra’s—which was gloved—when the princess rode up to the spectators box and grasped it in her own, bringing Alicent’s knuckles to her lips. She thinks of Rhaenyra murdered in the sky, skewered with another man’s sword, plummeting to the ground, torn in half, streaking crimson across the clouds. Alicent would scream, or cry. She might laugh. She would throw herself from the window of her tower. Rhaenyra’s bloody exploits terrified Alicent for reasons she could not identify, and excited her for reasons she refused to.)
“I’d sooner be confined to the castle for the rest of my days than get on the back of that bloody lizard,” Alicent scoffed. Rhaenyra only tucked her hand over Alicent’s, where it was resting on her forearm. She flexed her fingers, moving to release her grip on the dark fabric, but Rhaenyra intertwined their fingers and held them fast.
“You’re confined already. You are already accustomed to such a thing. I know you. But—”
“But you forget yourself. You think you’re invulnerable, Rhaenyra. You don’t know who you are.” Alicent intends for it to be a sneer, but instead it comes out quietly, and too gentle for disdain. She can’t know. Rhaenyra is as trapped as she is, but they’re trapped together. They belong together. She belongs with Alicent.
“I am Rhaenyra Targaryen, Heir to the Iron Throne and all of Westeros. I am a dragonrider. I am—I am your daughter. In a way. Your sister, too. Your enemy. Your sword, your shield.”
“And what am I?” What else is left for me? Alicent wonders.
“My Queen. For now.” Rhaenyra cocks her head, and the gleam in her eyes burns like fire raining down. “When I am Queen, you will be my lady.”
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Need to zone out with my mouth on a boys hole, just put his legs over my shoulders and tongue fuck him. Lick him wet and open and overstimulated until hes squirming and thrusting back on my face, begging me to fuck him until he can't breathe.
I think that'd fix me.
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