143 posts
With or without OCD, this cannot be good for people's mental health. You're not the singular force that makes the world go around, sometimes it's okay to just exist, to just take things at face value. Guilt tripping people, labeling them as bad, most of what that does is put people down, make them doubt themselves and their surroundings, and can cause people to spiral.
tumblr: constantly be aware of your own privilege. constantly be aware of your capacity of be evil. hey i know you really like that new piece of media but make sure you're aware of all of the problematic elements all the time. hey i noticed you reblogged a post from a designated Bad Person so please make sure you do a thorough background check on everyone you reblog from to make sure they're not bad, otherwise people might get the wrong idea about you. always be aware of everything bad that's happening in the world all the time because silence is violence. i see you not reblogging this post btw. activist burnout is a privilege so be aware of that. xyz people are required to reblog this post. if you're not constantly fighting against designated Bad People you are inherently complicit and therefore a Bad Person.
people with ocd:
the fact of a garden
Hosted by @howtonerdoutovereverything!✨
I wanted to add a page where they get pulled over by cops but ironically I spent 10 hours driving myself today and I’m falling asleep at my desk kfbshckm anyway here’s a bonus meme:
Saw ur post about weird things you know about Dick, got anymore?
Ha, okay. Just little characterization/fun fact things.
Dick isn’t a fan of Alfred’s cucumber sandwiches.
...like consistently, not a fan lol.
Dick also doesn’t like cranberry muffins!
But one of his favorite Alfred dishes is crab stuffed mushrooms (weirdo).
Dick likes to watch nature documentaries to relax...and as a result he knows a lot of random animal fun facts.
He really overthinks mystery tv lol...even Scooby-doo (which he apparently has watched with the Titans/Wally before lol? cute).
Dick uses fancy English Dunhill aftershave, which might be why he has that reputation for smelling good haha? Thank Alfred for that peeps.
Dick tends to have trouble making his home feel like home. He keeps very busy and doesn’t usually care about stuff, so that translates into very minimal decoration...or not even removing his stuff from storage/boxes without some cajoling.
though once he does finally decorate lol, it does tend to be very sentimental, meaningful items pretty much exclusively (ie family photos, flying grayson poster, etc.)
And he likes mint chocolate chip ice cream according to @hood-ex! I have no idea where that is from but I love it.
I think that’s all I feel like doing for now. Maybe I’ll add some more later, idk. Or other people could add little details too.
“There’ll be peace when you are done” my fucking ass. There’s no peace and I’m not even sure it’s done.
i saw a post on twitter by a european saying americans are fake for their random compliments to strangers and their general cheery demeanor and like no. no no no you don’t understand. if you get a random compliment from an american on the street about your outfit or whatever, that is 100% genuine. we mean it. we aren’t lying we are making a small but fleeting connection with you because our lives are shitty but the human condition is enduring. oh god i’m clutching my chest
I love people.
The boss has arrived ...
As I grow older I feel my capacity to understand that Miss Piggy is not a real person reached a peak in my adolescence and is now on a steady decline. I watched a Wendy Williams interview and there's this part that's like "can we get a ring cam!" and Miss Piggy shows her bling and I'm just like fuck she's so iconic. Miss Piggy who are you wearing? Miss Piggy have you ever considered running for office??
As someone who does like to 'live small', this is really interesting to think about. It'll take some reflection to figure out to what extent I agree with this, but it's a very well-crafted argument that doesn't attack anyone. I appreciate that. Thought I'd share.
i'm not the best at singing. but i'm gonna sing anyway dude. i'm not the best at painting. but i'm still going to paint. my dancing will never see a stage. but it's perfect for early mornings in my bedroom and late nights with people i love. so what does this mean? it means that people are designed to do. not to be the best. just to do. if you're doing what you enjoy, then you don't have to be the best. you just have to enjoy it. you have to live.
on my laptop straight up 'writing my wip" and by "my wip", haha, well. lets justr say. scrolling on tumblr.
When your comfort fictional character has absolutely no fics on archive of our own D:
in the end all you have is yourself, your comfort fictional characters and archive of our own
I love them,,,
I love this scene so much 🤣🥑
Not "humans are inherently good" or "humans are inherently evil" but a secret third thing (humans are inherently social animals which means that we're very good at cooperating and being compassionate towards those we perceive as being part of our community but we're also very good at being tribal and violent towards those we perceive as threats to our community and everyone defines their community differently)
It feels criminal how little of a fandom this webtoon has. It has taken my world by storm. I am obsessed. I have so many theories, and I have done so much analysis on the characters and the story. It actually got me writing (I don't write narratives, this is the first in like 6 years, longer if we're talking not assigned), I did not forsee that happening. Anyways, go read Post Harbor, and hmu if you want to talk about it. I would love to hear your takes.
You ask me why I like you, and the words feel too earthbound—like cupping water in your palms and calling it the sea.
I could tell you about the way your voice feels like a lighthouse calling me home, or how your laugh cracks open my ribs, letting the wildflowers inside me bloom.
But none of it would be enough, not for this, not for you.
I like you because the world tilts in your direction, because every word you speak feels like the first page of a story I’ve always wanted to read.
And if I had no words, only silence, I’d still find a way to show you: my gaze resting, my breath steady, my being leaning toward you, always.
i grew up thinking love had to be dramatic.
that it needed to feel like chaos—
a rush of adrenaline,
complicated, spontaneous, a constant guessing game.
and sure, love can be like that.
it can burn hot and fast.
it can throw you into the sky
and drop you just as quickly.
but love can also be secure.
reassuring.
constant.
and i think that kind of love is beautiful.
the kind where someone chooses you,
not because you’re hard to get
or because there’s tension and mystery,
but simply because they see you
and they want you.
no questions.
no confusion.
no waking up and wondering where you stand.
just—
you and them.
side by side.
quietly, naturally.
you know they’ll be there tomorrow.
and the day after that.
and in a week, a month, a year.
and suddenly, you’re celebrating your tenth anniversary,
realizing love didn’t need to be loud to be extraordinary.
i’m tired of dramatic love.
i don’t want to burn.
i want to be held.
i want love that is quiet.
predictable.
safe.
because peace is not the absence of love—
it’s what love is supposed to bring.
A short comic I made about my experiences as a seasonal worker, and the way places change you.
Prints & PDF
I love kids they’re all like.. “when i grow up i’m gonna be an astronaut and a chef and a doctor and an olympic swimmer” like that self confidence! That drive! That optimism! Where does it go
You ask me why I like you, and the words feel too earthbound—like cupping water in your palms and calling it the sea.
I could tell you about the way your voice feels like a lighthouse calling me home, or how your laugh cracks open my ribs, letting the wildflowers inside me bloom.
But none of it would be enough, not for this, not for you.
I like you because the world tilts in your direction, because every word you speak feels like the first page of a story I’ve always wanted to read.
And if I had no words, only silence, I’d still find a way to show you: my gaze resting, my breath steady, my being leaning toward you, always.
Anyone know the artist? For clarity, the painter, not the writer.
We suffer from an incurable malady: Hope.
— Mahmoud Darwish
In the quiet hours, where shadows stretch long,
I carry the weight of what’s gone wrong.
Not a weight you can hold, nor a chain you can see,
But the echoes of choices that made me… me.
They whisper at dawn, they linger at night,
A chorus of “what-ifs” that dims every light.
The words I swallowed, the roads not taken,
The promises made, then cruelly forsaken.
Do you feel it too? That invisible strain,
The tug of regret, the ghost of pain?
A smile for the world, a mask so tight,
But inside, the storms wage endless fights.
And yet, within this chaos, a spark still glows,
A small, fragile ember that quietly knows:
We’re stitched by our scars, but not wholly defined,
There’s beauty in breaking and mending in kind.
For every tear shed, there’s a seed to be sown,
A garden of lessons where resilience is grown.
The weight may not vanish, but strength will appear,
In carrying what’s heavy, we conquer our fear.
So here’s to the burden, the ache, the climb,
The fight for meaning through space and time.
We are not alone in this labyrinth of feels,
For what we bury, someone else heals.
And maybe that’s life: a tangle, a dance,
Of holding the pain while giving hope a chance.
So, to you who feels heavy, I see you, I care—
Your heart’s not alone, we’re all anchored there.
- DK
Hope wins every time the sun peaks over the horizon after a long dark night, it softens the day and baths the ground, it warms the air and we breath easier and maybe our souls uncurl a little from that protective crouch we've grown used to, maybe we let our limbs loosen, maybe we let hope sink into our skin, maybe we let it melt our misery from within.