#I need to talk to my therapist about this

[caelumfalls]

I have definitely used chat gpt when my therapist wasn't available, my friends weren't as well for what I needed to talk about, and tbh it helped. I knew what I was doing and how "bad" it was but would you rather I had spoke to AI or that I harmed myself? I may not have been writing this right now if it wasn't for seeing the words I didn't know I needed sent to me.

Call it dystopian or whatever but therapy is expensive. It takes time to open up to your therapist especially when youre on #7 because the ones before switched to another place, didn't like you because you weren't Christian, told you you needed a boyfriend even though you're figuring out if you're asexual, lesbian, bi or WHAT, just... Stop kicking people while they're down.

Because I did all I was "supposed" to.

Therapy twice a week. Journaling. Talking to friends but having to hold back. Exercising AND attending dance class. Being there to listen to others pain and helping how best you can. Evaluating and processing all my years of trauma. AI isnt the best answer but fuck let people get what they can from it in this way. We know. We know its not "real" but when you need SOMETHING??? WHEN YOU NEED JUST ONE MFING STICK OF HOPE SOMETHING ANYTHING and AI can talk to you right then instead of you having another manic episode where youre screaming and beating yourself because no one will respond and you're left on read again and again? Fucking talk to the robot.

guys. please

[certifiedsexed]

How do I say no to stuff that makes me uncomfy without making my partner feel bad?

Like for context he's been taken advantage of and so have I, so if im made uncomfortable he instantly feels like he's just as bad as our abusers were.

And like I was okay with him trying to do stuff before but im not now and I don't know how to bring that up either

So, here's the thing, Anon: you can't.

You can't control your partner's feelings, so there is no full-proof way to say "no" without possibly upsetting him. That's also very much not your job.

That's something your partner has to work through, personally. You could ask him if there's anything you could do to help but you don't have to and there might not be anything.

What you need to do is learn to say no to things that make you uncomfortable, regardless of how it makes your partner feel.

Which isn't something I can give much advice on beyond suggesting working on it during and outside of sex and enlisting the help of your partner, maybe a therapist or even just friends to talk about it with and maybe get more suggestions.

Especially if you currently don't want him to try to do sexual stuff that you were okay with before! That's not something you want to put either of you through.

It sounds like what would be a good idea would be discussing all of this with him. If you're feeling like you can't bring these things up because they might upset him, that means you Need to talk about it.

Maybe ask him if he can reassure or back you up when you say no to things, so that you feel more comfortable. Maybe take sex off the table for a bit, work on these things outside of it until you both feel more comfortable/steady.

But I would start all of this by having a conversation about how you're feeling about all of this, before you have sex again.

This is definitely something you and your partner should communicate about and who knows, maybe he's been trying to bring up the same type of thing but doesn't know how.

You'd want to know about that, right? He probably would too.

I'm not sure if this is any help but let me know if you have anymore questions! <3

[mammons-lover]

Therapy With Leviathan

Therapist (calm and professional): Hello, Leviathan. It’s lovely to see you.

Leviathan (fidgeting with his hands, glancing around nervously): H-Hello, it’s lovely to see you too.

Therapist (offering a reassuring smile): What made you decide to come in today?

Leviathan (voice hesitant, fingers twitching): Um... Mammon recommended I come in and talk to you.

Therapist (nodding encouragingly): And what would you like to talk about

Leviathan (shifting uncomfortably, eyes darting to the door): I’m... not too sure. Sorry.

Therapist (calmly): That’s okay. Can I ask why you seem so on edge?

Leviathan (voice dropping to a whisper, still looking around): I don’t know... it’s just... um, I don’t know who might be listening.

Therapist (gently reassuring): There’s no one else here, Leviathan. Just you and me. Is there someone you think is out to get you

Leviathan (shoulders tensing, voice barely audible): N-No, I just... I don’t want Lucifer to find out what we’re talking about.

Therapist (voice soft but firm): Are you afraid of Lucifer?

Leviathan (hyperventilating, gripping his arms tightly): Who wouldn’t be?! He’s the strongest of all of us! I mean, did you see what he did to Satan?!

Therapist (gently, guiding him): Leviathan, I need you to breathe. Okay? Breathe with me.

Leviathan (taking shaky breaths, trying to calm down): O-Okay... I’m sorry.

Therapist (reassuring): "t’s okay. Let’s try to explore this fear a little further. Have you always been afraid of Lucifer?

Leviathan (staring at the floor, voice breaking slightly): Not really. I thought he’d never hurt us... because we’re family, and that’s all we have here. But now, I-I don’t know if I can trust him.

Therapist (gently probing): Because of what happened with Satan?

Leviathan (clenching his fists, tears welling in his eyes): Yes, of course, it’s because of that! He’s our brother, and Lucifer beat him so brutally. He fought us when we tried to help! What if I’m next? I mess up all the time, like when I accidentally trapped us in one of my games. What if he gets mad at me and fights me too?!

Therapist (nodding understandingly): I see where you’re coming from, Leviathan. It’s hard to trust someone when they go against their word.

Leviathan (eyes spilling tears, voice cracking): Yeah, it is. And I know Satan and Lucifer aren’t close, but how could he do something like that?

Therapist (handing him a tissue): Do you think Lucifer sees Satan as family?

Leviathan (sniffing, wiping his face quickly): Of course! He... he should. Satan came from Lucifer, so he’s obviously family.

Therapist (thoughtfully): Satan wasn’t in the Celestial Realm with you all, correct?

Leviathan (nodding slowly): Yeah, he came after we fell.

Therapist (gently): So, is it possible that Lucifer doesn’t think of him as family in the same way he sees the rest of you? Since Satan wasn’t raised with you all?

Leviathan (voice shaky, realization dawning): I... I didn’t think about that. But even if that’s true, Satan is still a part of Lucifer. That doesn’t make sense. Sorry.

Therapist (calmly explaining): It actually does. Satan came from Lucifer’s anger. When he was born, that became his very essence—the demon of wrath. Do you see what I’m getting at, Leviathan?

Leviathan (stammering, gripping his knees): T-That Lucifer doesn’t see Satan as his own being, but as a part of himself he lost... and that anger was the reason for our fall. So he also sees Satan as his shame.

Therapist (nodding gently): Exactly, Leviathan, and—

Leviathan (interrupting, voice raw): But it’s not Satan’s fault! He didn’t deserve what happened!

Therapist (soothingly): I know that. But we’re trying to understand what Lucifer might be feeling—and why he most likely wouldn’t hurt you.

Leviathan (shaking his head, voice growing unsteady again): Yeah, but... he’s hurt Mammon before. More than once.

Therapist (momentarily shocked but trying to hide it): What do you mean?

Leviathan (wringing his hands, looking away): Mammon didn’t bring it up in his session, huh? He... he strings Mammon up whenever he does something wrong. Sometimes for hours. Sometimes for days. And we can’t help him, or we’ll get punished too. I used to think it was funny, but... I don’t know anymore.

Therapist (expression darkening slightly): So Lucifer has shown signs of aggression before?

Leviathan (nodding slowly, voice almost hollow): Yeah. And he locked Belphegor up in the attic for... I don’t even remember how long. He even hurt MC. I could be next. If he’s only getting worse, he could kill me.

Therapist (firmly but calmly): Leviathan, breathe.

Leviathan (frantically shaking his head, voice rising in panic): I don’t wanna be next. I love Lucifer, but he’s becoming more dangerous, and I can’t even sleep or leave my room knowing that somehow, someway, I could piss him off... and I’ll be next.

Therapist (softly but insistently): Leviathan... I’m going to ask you again to breathe with me.

Leviathan (shakily exhaling, nodding weakly): Y-Yeah... okay. I’m sorry.

Therapist (offering reassurance): It’s okay. It’s natural to feel this way. How have you been managing at home? I know you said you can’t sleep, but what about food? Bathing?

Leviathan (voice still unsteady): Mammon and Asmo bring me food. I sneak into Asmo’s personal bathroom to bathe... I just can’t face Lucifer. I can’t even go see Satan.

Therapist (gently): Why can’t you see Satan?

Leviathan (closing his eyes, voice barely above a whisper): Because if I see how he looks in the hospital... I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forgive Lucifer. And I don’t want to lose the last bit of hope I have left... that my brother is still in there.

[bigsoggyboots]

Sevika x Brothel!Reader

Encroach

ᐧ.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ೃ❀࿔˙ ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅ೃ❀ᮬ࿔˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ೃ❀࿔˙ ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅ೃ❀ᮬ࿔˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅ॱ

ᐧ.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ೃ❀࿔˙ ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅ೃ❀ᮬ࿔˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ೃ❀࿔˙ ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅ೃ❀ᮬ࿔˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅ॱ

Encroach: To advance beyond the usual or proper limits.

Inspired by Comfort Me by Malcolm Todd.

summary: Your relationship is forbidden. You're her best kept secret, her escape. Now, she's caught feelings, placing kisses on you.

cw: lots of smoking, that's it.

random disclaimer: This is a crossed posted fic! @calamitykills is my AO3, which is where more of my Arcane content is! I wrote this late at night so it's undercooked LMAO. Likes and reblogs are always appreciated!

ᐧ.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ೃ❀࿔˙ ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅ೃ❀ᮬ࿔˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ೃ❀࿔˙ ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅ೃ❀ᮬ࿔˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅ॱ

Comfort. That's what she needed.

She paid a pretty penny for you, something that's almost too common now, plopping down on your couch without another word.

☆

Normally, you're not one of the Brothel workers who provide sex. You're more or so a therapist, a person to console the oh so desperate. And Sevika was a part of that. Most of the time ranting about her fucked up days with a cigar in hand. But she was among the rare few who have seen you nude before.

Still, you were her distraction. You told her you're an escape, whether her hands were removing your robes or not. You bring peace and solace at the end of the day, a service that brings hidden emotions to the surface.

Sevika waved that off. Everytime. Reminding you that she doesn't have the time for that, feign that's not what this is built on. Feelings.

You knew she liked you, you just wondered when she admitted it.

☆

You took the money, raising your eyebrow at her, looking at the money. “That's more than usual.”

“I'm here for more than talking tonight.” Sevika opened a compartment in her metal pinkie, you noticed it being a lighter, drawing the flame to the cigar until it was lit.

“I see.” You put the money away, shoving it in your jar before making your way to her. She watched you, a small smile seeing you saunter over.

A hand made its way to your hip as you stopped in front of her, her right hand caressing the fabric that clung to you. “New dress?” As you nodded, her eyes roamed over your whole figure.

The dress itself was cute, simple. A long nightdress for the evening hours. “Suits you.”

You sat in her lap, taking the cigar from her mouth and wrapping your lips on it. She watched you, cocking her eyebrow at your confidence, a hum at the sight. You breathed in the smoke, leaving your nostrils with a trickle.

“Tell me about your day.” Sevika huffed, taking her cigar back. It's what she came to avoid. “There must be something that makes you wanna pay for extra services.”

She was contemplating, her cigar sitting idly between her ring and middle. “Shimmer factories are behind, Silco's yelling at me for it.” She took a deliberate puff, mindful enough to not blow smoke in your face. “I needed a distraction.”

“Me and my services aren't distractions-”

“They're escapes. You told me too many damn times.”

You hummed contently, panning your face away to smile, “I'm glad you remember then, it's what you need right now.” swiping the cigar again before putting your lips on it.

You knew what she wanted, what she craved; she needed something sweet. And to Sevika, there was nothing sweeter than nicotine.

Taking your hit, you kissed Sevika, smoke trickling into her mouth and filling it. You held her jaw steadily, letting the smoke take her on slowly as she gripped your hip kissing back.

A high induced her. She liked how your lips mingled, tongues not entering the others mouth as you exchanged smoke. Her lips danced softly with yours, matching that steady pace you created.

She needed this softness although these were areas that would encroach her restrictions.

This soothed her, her grip faltering as she moved only to kiss you. And you felt every inch of that.

That smoke only lasted so long, you pulled away as the last trails of it left your separated lips.

You huffed, breathing in slowly to recover.

She wanted that again. She wanted your softness. She wanted to be soft, she wanted to be gentle.

Sevika prompted you off her lap, her hand lightly pushing you to lay your back flat on the couch. “Do it again.” You couldn't react before she snatched it from you. “I'll do it.”

She sucked in the smoke from her cigar after swiping it from you, her lips kissing along yours seconds after. You noticed that gentleness again, her feeling you as if wanting to savor this.

So you sat, smoke harboring both of your mouths, with a high entrancing your minds.

Real feelings were bubbling over now; you both knew that, and in this line of work that's dangerous. It's where a line normally gets crossed, bonds break, and clients become strangers.

But you didn't care. Sevika needed something like this.

Tomorrow, you'll wake up and pretend it never happened, and she will too.

You'll just know you encroached behind hidden lines.

ᐧ.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ೃ❀࿔˙ ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅ೃ❀ᮬ࿔˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ೃ❀࿔˙ ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅ೃ❀ᮬ࿔˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅ॱ

[edutainer2022]

I'm chilling at a bus station in Budapest, waiting for my commute back home, so I added a couple of bits to the TV-21 aftermath story (both in the past and in the TAG present).

DO-OVERS

"It isn't what it looks like!"

It really wasn't. He wished John's eyes didn't turn to hard crystal from where the brother was standing in the bathroom doorway. Scott knew the turquoise lazer scanners already did the math and counted the pills, scattered on the tiles. But it WASN'T what it looked like. Scott spilled them.

Well, technically he threw them on the floor like they were burning coals, but the intent counted, right?

His hands were shaking. Everything was wrong. TV-21 was lost. Again. No amount of upbeat platitudes Scott said to calm down  and cheer up Allie could make it better. He let Dad down. Again. He didn't save what mattered to Dad most. Again. He just wanted to stop shaking. Or maybe to just stop. Maybe John, pale in the doorway, didn't need to know that.

He hadn't touched the prescription bottle in his bathroom cabinet for years. Since a smirking mustached general on a GDF committee, assembled to evaluate his claim for IR to go operational again, wondered out loud how they would know his judgement in the danger zone would not be impaired, if the GDF discharged him for being too traumatized to see straight in the first place. His therapist wouldn't be happy about that, but he stopped taking her calls around the same time too.

Today he just needed to calm down. He needed to be strong for Allie, who didn't remember Dad's first Thunderbird, and for Gordie, who did. For Virgil and John, who remembered Dad's dark, stormy grief and withdrawal from them. For Grandma, who needed him to see her son's dreams through.

One little pill, maybe two. But his hands were shaking, as the TV-21 exploding conflated with a different one behind his eyelids - so much combustion energy to take Dad away. So one pill became a palmfull. He was just staring at his hand for a while. Okay, it WAS tempting. John DEFINITELY didn't need to know about that. It would just stop. All of it. The pain, the failure, the fear, the losses. Gone. Like Mom was gone. Like Dad was gone. [No matter what he said or did could make it right.]

But then he saw his brothers, ashen from grief and days of crying, all clad in black suits. Again. Alone and lost without him. Again.

So he threw the pills forcefully away, as if burned. They clattered like pebbles on the tiles and skipped everywhere. That's when John came in, because John too knew his tells. And now John didn't believe him, clutching his shoulders and shaking, yelling that he drank water, yelling into his comm for Virgil and a bloodtest kit. Even if it wasn't what it looked like. Not really.

***

Virgil was doing what he did best - fixing. Maybe also hiding. He couldn't fix TV-21 and Dad's shattered dream. He couldn't fix Scott's heartbreak and poorly hidden assumed failure now any more than he could fix it all those years ago. But he COULD help fix Four and with it - the mood of the despondent little Squid. One brother sorted out was exponentially better than zero brothers. Then his comm blared red.

The code was "Two-one", and 2-1 meant TV-21, and TV-21 was bad news. Bad, bad news. John's grim, tense face in the holo confirmed as much and Virgil felt the island shift and spin beneath his feet, as he legged it to Scott's rooms.

***

[Once the Tinies were settled for the night, Scott stayed down in the living room to try and catch Dad on his way out of the office. He'd been locked in there for the past several hours with the young engineer, who designed TV-21. Shaken by nearly loosing Dad to the crash, they only ever glimpsed a flash of fuming fury when Dad and "Brains" returned from the failed test flight. So Scott lingered on the couch way past the bedtime in hopes to talk to Dad some more. A mistake, as it turned out.

The teen's attempt at a smile and a simple, if heartfelt, reassurance was shot down sternly when Dad finally emerged for a glass of water and a stifled curse, only to disappear again back into the study, lit by gossamer holo-light of schematics and figures in the conference call.

"Nothing you say or do can make this right, Scott! Go to bed!"

Virgil and John watched in horror, from behind the rails of the upper floor, how Scott swayed, as if slapped, when the door slamed behind Dad again. The lanky figure then doubled over, bracing himself on a chair. Scott tried and failed to gasp through a wrecking sob, clamping a hand over his mouth to suppress the sound.

The brothers were frozen in shock, hesitant what to do as Scott looked about ready to keel over. He was probably hyperventilating, air weezing with effort through constricted pain.

Virgil stepped tentatively towards the stairs, John clutching his sleeve nervously. But Scott steadied himself for a moment only to bolt through the kitchen and out of the back door into the pitch darkness.

The brothers didn't wait any longer, practically tumbling down the stairs and on to the back porch, but Scott, the high school track star, was long gone.

They would be in so much trouble if Dad caught them downstairs, awake, on a school night, but Dad obviously was... otherwise occupied.

John, pale and wide-eyed, on the verge of tears himself, kept dragging Virgil's sleeve to run after Scott. Only which way? The farm bordered on the meadow. It was already dark. Scott could be anywhere.

Where Scott went - Virgil followed. That was the way of things. It included Rescue Scouts and multiple other pursuits. So the boy tried his best to push through the stinging of his own eyes and think like big brother, the Falcon Scout, would. They needed flashlights. The night was chilly, gusts of wind rattling the loose tiles on the old barn. Scott ran out in his sleep tee-shirt. So they would need to pick up his jacket too, on the way out. But first, they needed to placate and possibly bribe Gordie into keeping Allie from crying if he woke up. And they needed to figure out a search grid for big brother. Letting Dad in on the commotion wasn't an option.]

***

["Mom, I can't! I try and I try, and I try, but I can't! Nothing I say or do makes it right! I'm not enough! Mom, please! I canticanticanticant! I can't do this, Mom! Mom! Come back! I can't!!!!!"]

***

[A child's crying could be heard all across the quiet house. He didn't heed at first, habitually. Scott would deal with it. And on the rarest occasion that he couldn't - one of his elder boys would step up and sort little Alan out. He focused back on Hiram's muttering and the red dots flashing in different points of TV-21 the projection. The weak spots that led to the fiasco. The weeping didn't stop and eventually gave way to a high pitched wail. Jeff winced. He really didn't have time for that! He'd have to have sterner words with Scott. His ONE job was looking after his brothers. There was nothing more important than the project they launched with a young Dr. Hackenbecker. And it blew up in Jeff's face, quite literally so.

He stood up to his full hight. Hiram paused mid-rant with a polite smile. Jeff gave him a nod and jogged up the stairs, already exasperated. The hallway was dark - no light in any of the bedrooms.

The Tinies' room greeted him with a sight of Gordon clutching an inconsolable Alan in a squid hug, trying to muffle the sobs. Little Allie had dissolved into hiccups, vaguely resembling a call for ['Coddeeeeeh!!!!!]. Gordon's eyes blew up in panic as he saw Dad towering in the doorway.

Jeff took a long stride and plucked the crying child from his brother's death grip, then turned on his heel and marched down the hallway to the nearest room, shared by Virgil and John. The door flung open into the empty dark silence. The boys were not there. Jeff was fuming by then. Of course they'd use the opportunity of Dad being busy and sneak in with big brother to chat away all night. Or game. Or watch a movie. Or whatever it was teenage boys were not supposed to do when a parent was BUSY. Gordon was hot on his heels when he yanked the door to his eldest's open, clearly even more afraid of staying behind than he was of Dad's ire. Allie, who had quietened a bit in Dad's arms, screeched anew. Scott's room too was empty. Meticulously made bed had been untouched since morning. Three of his sons were gone.]

TBC

[yelenaslyubov]

(I DO NOT OWN RIGHTS TO THIS VIDEO)

ITS RHAENICENT BRAINROT LESBIAN YEARNING HOURS TIME TO RIP ALL MY HAIR OUT CRY SCREAM GO INTO CARDIAC ARREST THROW UP PISS EVERYWHERE

[elliedarkleseed]

373- I talked to my dude and he thinks I’m a bit unhinged. I accept this. He still loves me even though I spilled all my beans and told him how fucking much I’m *into* my tf. He thinks that guy thinks I’m wack if he ever thinks about me at all. I’m like…..ok. Yeah. I feel better for having talked to my person about my deep seated feelings. Do they have any basis in real life? Or just fantasy? I’m glad my dude accepts me even though I obviously need mental help. Ugh. Therapy 2/4/2025 we’ll see what my therapist has to say. Probably that I’m crazy. <giggle> probably.

Get a partner who's matured enough to educate u. Mature enough to handle ur shits. Mature enough to accept ur flaw. Remember, looks are everywhere but a person with a good mindset is rare.

[doginasillyhat]

staring at the election results in genuine terror, both for my us friends and their safety, but also for what this could end up meaning for women’s rights and climate change

[wisteria-html]

In other news: my friend and I were at work discussing which characters we see the other as. I compared her to Richie Tozier and nailed it, and then we talked about mental health and how we perceive ourselves. Tell me why I get home, get ready for bed, and she sends me this:

Actually, now that I think about it, you kind of remind me of Jayce Talis

I'll have to look into it more before I make that my pick for you but

The struggle to balance yourself between things that excite you and the desire to be a good person

The fear that your accomplishments/qualities are only tricking others into liking you, and they'll never be as devoted as you are to them

Jayce is heavily influenced by the past but constantly worried that he's not processing those lessons in a healthy way, and so despite his powerful convictions and confidence he is susceptible to others trying to blunt him

He doesn't think he's a good person because he thinks compassion is just the best way forward, the way through external problems, rather than something that takes actual strength to maintain and therefore doesn't give himself enough credit

And everyone around him is literally obsessed with him because they know just how selfless and valiant he is, even if his obsessions can lead his usual empathy to get hyper focused on individual people or situations

And so sometimes people get mad or hurt because they assume they're being ignored or not prioritized, rather than simply trying to understand this is who he is

And these feelings can coalesce into accusations of toxicity towards jayce, because these people have put him on a pedestal, and now that they're not feeling the love they assume it's intentional from someone so otherwise seemingly perfect

The people who truly understand Jayce are those who are able to separate the person from the moment

Jayce - you - are obsessed with whether you're doing the right or proper thing in a moral sense, but despite that, you don't think that makes you a good person - even though that's literally the main qualifier. The reason for this is because you strongly feel that you are simply not allowed to be selfish; therefore, doing good and being caring doesn't feel like a choice to you, ergo you don't take pride in it and don't reward yourself for it. It feels.. dare I say it.. like a neutral mode

And I personally think, learning to be a bit selfish would be really helpful for you, because it would help demystify this and remove anxiety over the deep-seated fear that one slip-up and you'll descend into toxicity and pain-causing. The problem is that you're such a good person, that in the few instances where someone did accuse you of being toxic, you empathize with them enough to believe they had at least some semblance of a point and so put the onus of the blame on yourself instead. "This is what happens when I'm not careful enough," you internalized. "I made a mistake", rather than simply accept that other people can be flawed pieces of crap whose problems with you are just reflections of problems with themselves

I think you need to have real, visceral experience that being a little selfish is not the enemy, and it won't consume you if you indulge in it. In fact, it might help you gain confidence in what you are and what you put out into the world.

So where is I need to remember that my kingdom is secure, even if it doesn't feel like that

I think you need to remember that the world outside your kingdom will love you no matter what you choose to do with your realm

I think that's why you strive for such an intensely connected romantic relationship, by the way. Because if you're going to let someone in that close, they have to be someone truly in love with you, someone utterly amazing in your eyes, otherwise you'll have to spend time together worrying about whether you're being a good person, whether they'll see through this imagined facade of yours. In another odd inversion of me, I seek people who can ground me and help me feel things, and I think you seek a person who can help you ascend past the grounded fears within you

I need to learn to trust the world around me. I think you should learn to trust yourself.

[i-ate-gravel]

Me, anytime I'm asked about my gender: yeah, I'm just kinda indifferent about gender, probably a bit more towards masc though lol. Idk if I would even call myself nb. They/them pronouns ig but she/her is fine.

*somebody refers to me as a lady/girl/woman*

Me, shaking: wow. Please no, nononono, don't. That makes me want to throw up and die. Weird. I'm sure that's a totally normal reaction.

*somebody refers to me as a man/gentleman/guy*

Me, giddy for no reason: omg I wish! But no, I'm not. I'm going to think about this every day for several years, and cry that I'm not a guy daily.

Something smells... trans in here.... Will I fully acknowledge it? Only time will tell

[musingsunderstarlight]

Honestly, unless that therapy teaches them to take accountability for their own shitty actions, there’s no point. Because now apparently when they do, it is also used to turn therapy talk against the woman and validate his own behavior.

Jonah Hill went to a therapist, learned the word “boundaries” and decided to weaponize it by telling his surfer instructor girlfriend that they were being violated by her posting surfing pictures in a bathing suit, surfing with men, having friendships with men, and having friendships with women he deemed as being in “unstable places” from her “wild recent past,”—all things that she was already doing and that he was well aware of when he started dating her.

He even ends the text where he communicated this by gaslighting her further and passive-aggressively saying that if she needs these things then, “I am not the right partner for you … if these things bring you to a place of happiness I support it and there will be no hard feelings. These are my boundaries for romantic partnership.” He suggests that her “need” to continue these terrible things according to him is what would ultimately be the reason for the end of the relationship, and not his own, suddenly new, and abnormal level of discomfort.

He took controlling and abusive behavior and managed to make it sound like he was the victim. After I read about this, I realized that men are not innocent cavemen who don’t know how to behave. They are snakes and are constantly looking for opportunities to manipulate women. The less they know about what it entails to be a victim, the better.

"Most men don't seek out therapy for help 🥺😫😰"

Most men don't want to seek out therapy and refuse to get help. Men commit the vast majority of violence against women, other men, and children.

When men do seek out therapy and get help it's predominantly because a woman in their life begged or otherwise influenced them into doing so.

[haunted-calathea]

Uhhh it turns out i am still having hallucinations because apparently your not supposed to be constantly seeing dark spots on the wall & floors moving and mistaking them for bugs and having a moment of panic before realizing it's just dirt

[honeypleasejustkillme]

i thought i was at my lowest but holy shit it gets lower

[evilrry]

trying to cope w the fact that my cats are going to die one day while simultaneously trying to cope w the fact that my mom is going to die one day is too hard i’m going back to bed

[glitterparpaing]

bro i love you i could update you on everything that’s going on rn im holding myself back from sending you more vocal messages bc i just have so much shit to tell you

Last Song: high intensity biking v2 by Brian David Gilbert (bc why not)

Favorite Color: green but like chartreuse, and also the brightest greens u can think of

Last Book: been trying to get into The Picture Of Dorian Gray recently, love it but i should continue reading it

Last Movie: Visitor From The Future bc nostalgia is kicking my ass rn

Last TV Show: Machine (french leftist series) which i could watch thanks to one of their actors who very kindly helped me find it

Sweet/Savory/Spicy: god i have to admit im starting to like savory more, ive always been a sweet guy but a dish of pasta, curry vegetables and vegan nuggets gets me to heaven

Relationship: single but maybe (idk????) talking to someone look life is weird

Last Thing I Googled: "arte tv", i was desperately trying to find Machine and was told it was there (it wasn’t)

Current Obsession: the fic im writing and an actor who is about the same age as my parents (i need him in a way that would be concerning for my therapist)

Get to know me

Tagged by my beloved @marlowe-zara <3

Last Song: Timebomb by Walk The Moon (NOT related to the Arcane ship, but...it fits so well somehow!?)

Favorite Color: Lavender

Last Book: Currently reading Swordcrossed by Freya Marske and I am OBSESSED.

Last Movie: Wicked!

Last TV Show: Was really tempted to put Arcane here but I think the actual last thing I watched while not researching for fanfic was Overlord Season 4 lmao.

Sweet/Savory/Spicy: Savory most days, but I love all three, just need to be in the right mood.

Relationship: getting married this year!!!!! <3 <3 <3

Last Thing I Googled: "can you request books on hoopla". Pretty self explanatory. The answer, at least for my library, is unfortunately no 😭😭😭

Current Obsession: Arcane Arcane ARCANE.

Looking Forward To: Zaundads Week (shameless plug 💖), the weekend, MY AUTUMN WEDDING, The Sandman Season 2, just to name a few things.

Tagging @fangfuckers @softest-punk @poltergeist-punk @kenjinx @embroiderling @bazzybelle @kydrogendragon @lemoneyshipz

[kindnessoverperfection]

Please, if you can, take a moment to read and share this because I feel like I'm screaming underwater.

NPD (Narcissistic Personality Disorder) stigma is rampant right now, and seems to be getting progressively worse. Everyone is using it as a buzzword in the worst ways possible, spreading misinformation and hatred against a real disorder.

I could go on a long time about how this happened, why it's factually incorrect (and what the disorder actually IS), why it's harmful, and the changes I'd like to see. But to keep this concise, I'll simply link to a few posts under the cut for further reading.

The point of this post is a plea. Please help stop the spread of stigma. Even in mental health communities, even around others with personality disorders, in neurodivergent "safe" spaces, other communities I thought people would be supportive in (e.g. trans support groups, progressive spaces in general), it keeps coming up. So I'm willing to bet that a lot of people on this site need to see this.

Because it's so hard to exist in this world.

My disorder already makes me feel as if I'm worthless and unlovable, like there's something inherently wrong and damaged about me. And it's so much harder to fight that and heal when my daily life consists of:

Laughing and spending time with my friends, doing my utmost best to connect and stay present and focused on them, trying to let my guards down and be real and believe I'm lovable- when suddenly they throw out the word "narcissist" to describe horrible people or someone they hate, or the conversation turns to how evil "people with narcissistic personality disorder" are. (Seriously, you don't know which of your friends might have NPD and feels like shit when you say those things & now knows that you'd hate them if you knew.)

Trying to look up "mental health positivity for people with npd", "mental health positivity cluster bs", only to find a) none of that, and b) more of the same old vile shit that makes me feel terrible about myself.

Having a hard time (which is constant at this point) and trying to look up resources for myself, only to again, find the same stigma. And no resources.

Not having any clue how to help myself, because even the mental health field is spitting so much vitriol at people with DISORDERS (who they're supposed to be helping!) that there's no solid research or therapy programs for people like me.

Losing close friends when they find out, despite us having had a good relationship before, and them KNOWING me and knowing that I'm not like the trending image of pwNPD. Because now they only see me through the lens of stigma and misinformation.

Hearing the same stigma come up literally wherever I go. Clubs. Meetings. Any online space. At the bus stop. At the mall. At a restaurant. At work. Buzzword of the year that everyone loooves loudly throwing around with their friends or over the phone. Feels awesome for me, makes my day so much better/s

I could go on for a long time, but I'm scared no one will read/rb this if it gets too much longer.

So please. Stop using the word "narcissist" as a synonym for "abusive".

Stop bringing up people you hate who you believe to have NPD because of a stigmatizing article full of misinformation whenever someone with actual NPD opens their mouth. (Imagine if people did that with any other disorder! "Hey, I'm autistic." "Oh... my old roommate screamed at me whenever I made noise around him, and didn't understand my needs, which seems like sensory overload and difficulty with social cues. He was definitely autistic. But as long as you're self-aware and always restraining your innate desire to be an abusive asshole, you're okay I guess, maybe." ...See how offensive and ignorant that is?)

Stop preventing healthcare for people with a disorder just because it's trendy to use us as a scapegoat.

If you got this far, thank you for reading, and please share this if you can. Further reading is under the cut.

NPD Criteria, re-written by someone who actually has NPD

Stigma in the DSM

Common perception of the DSM criteria vs how someone may actually experience them (Keep in mind that this is the way I personally experience these symptoms, and that presentation can vary a lot between individuals)

"Idk, the stigma is right though, because I've known a lot of people with NPD who are jerks, so I'm going to continue to support the blockage of treatment for this condition."

(All of these were written by me, because I didn't want to link to other folks' posts without permission, but if you want to add your own links in reblogs or replies please feel free <3)