Phoenix

I'm knitting in the corner at a party

and guys my age stop by to tell me I remind them of their aunt, of their grandmother. This is a compliment and I take it as such. They confess to having tried crochet once, and I smile. They get back in line for the bathroom.

I'm knitting in the corner at a party and a queer woman sits on the floor next to me, arranges her skirt, and smiles up at me. (I try not to blush.) She asks me all the questions on her mind about my craft and I answer them, hands still moving. We swap yarn sources. She doesn't stay, but she knows where to find me.

I'm knitting in the corner at a party and everyone knows where to find me when they need a minute, when socializing is too much and the music is too loud and they need to catch their breath. They pretend to be checking in on me, which is sweet, but I can see the relief in their eyes the moment they stop performing for a house full of people. They sit down and tell me things and all the while they never take their eyes off my hands.

The party has wound down and I'm still knitting and the hosts, two guys in their twenties, thank me for "helping to curate the vibe." I had no idea that's what I was doing. I leave the party having forgotten to drink anything and without that woman's number but with many rows added to my top-down raglan sweater. I call it a night, and a good one.

(crawls on all fours with blood drenched on me) I have to do arts and crafts

short comic about my feelings on recurring psychosis

wearing big shirt that says "ask me about my ocs" in big letters insinuating that you the reader should ask me about my ocs. please

Imagine an eleven year old Harry Potter, fresh from the greenhouses and his first Herbology class, secretly covered in snakes under his robes. They’re just so nice, it can’t hurt to carry them around and keep them warm. They know their way around the school better than him, anyways.

Enter Professor Snape, starting his first class of Griffindor first year Potions.

“Cloaks and robes off, you will be utilizing open flames; loose, draping fabric will catch fire and send you to the hospital wing.”

Harry and a few other students keeps theirs on, trying to blend into the walls. It does not work.

“ROBES AND CLOAKS OFF. Quickly. You are wasting valuable class time.”

Harry removes his, very reluctantly. His arms and legs wriggle with garden snakes.

“Mr. Potter, what the fuck.”

“They’re my friends, professor.”

Snape walks up to Harry, helping get some of these creatures off of him.

“Why are you crawling with snakes, Mr. Potter?”

“They’re so nice, Professor Snape. Plus they told me the fastest way to your class.”

“You speak to snakes?”

“Always have, yeah.”

Snape realizes he is in no way paid enough to deal with this.

more morrigan since i’ve been thinking bout him sm >:3 ft. casual clothes his friends had no idea even existed in his closet

Morrigan! he’s from the same universe as Cassian. same timeline too…. he just dresses like that. (meme by @itsargyle )

By the power of ADHD, I am immune to tinnitus. My left ear rings very faintly, and most of the time I can just completely tune it out because the constant invariable note cannot hold my interest for long. I only actually hear it when the other background noise of whatever environment I am in stops all of a sudden, and the ringing is the only one that remains, and then it gradually fades out like the end of an 80s pop song.

Sometimes I can make it fade out faster by trying to focus on listening to it. The more I focus, the more quiet and distant it gets, until I can't hear it anymore. In the battle of Curse of Infinite Whistle versus Can't Hear Shit Disorder, my ability to simply not notice my surroundings is an immovable object, but the inescapable noise is no unstoppable force.

I consider myself a fortunate man for how often my problems somehow manage to cancel each other out.

he's a circus son...

I HATE THIS MAN I HATE THIS MAN I HATE THIS MAN