#and I know tumblr is very med positive

[francesderwent]

So is it Inkheart and Flip or are these more books that I have never read as a dreadful non-reader

at the eleventh hour she came to fulfill the prophecy!!!!!

it was very much Inkheart, and #20 is indeed Flip, by David Lubar.

the story of a hyperactive kid, his weird friend, and his uptight sister who discover a UFO which has shiny coin-like things on it. they discover the coins are some kind of alien entertainment, which allow you to learn about earth heroes of old not by watching a film or reading a book about them, but by becoming them. if you had to go to high school, wouldn’t you rather go to school as Babe Ruth?

[idontmindifuforgetme]

friend wanted to see my tumblr, and when i told him i can’t show it to him bc it’s basically my personal diary he went “oh so I can’t see it but a bunch of strangers on tumblr can??” he literally does not get me. no one will get me like the people in my phone get me

[weemietime]

There isn't a whole lot of content on Tumblr about schizoid personality disorder so I thought I would make a little informational post. SZPD is a cluster A personality disorder, of the odd/eccentric cluster alongside schizotypal and paranoid. It is on the schizophrenia spectrum, and comprises the negative rather than positive symptoms of schizophrenia.

This primarily means we have avolition, catatonia, flat/blunted affect (demeanor), limited interoception (emotional sensations), lack of bonds to others including primary family members, and indifference to the opinions of others.

Whilst this isn't a diagnostic criteria, many of us are also asexual and aromantic, meaning we don't want to have sex with other humans (but usually do masturbate) and have no interest in romantic companionship.

My most disabling symptom is avolition, because I have comorbid ADHD. This means when I don't have my medication (dextromethorphan 120mg) I just sit there and zone out and can't even hold a conversation or move my body, nor even do things like feed myself. It is genuinely crippling and I am unemployed because of this, even though my meds help, they don't cure me and I need a lot of time alone.

Schizoid is something of an "anti-human" disorder, because we fail to form basic social bonds with others including primary caregivers. As a child I got diagnosed with inhibited RAD because I could not tolerate human contact. This differs from autism because autistic people generally want to socialize, they just lack the skills. I don't want to socialize and it takes tremendous effort for me to do so.

To even make this post I had to wait for my meds to click in as I was just sitting there mindlessly beforehand. While we have low internal sensations of emotions like caring, love, happiness, trust, sadness, etc. we aren't typically antisocial/dissocial and don't have a pattern of exploiting others or dishonesty. This requires too much effort.

There is a schizoid version of narcissism but it is separate to narcissistic personality disorder. NPD is characterized by a very fragile ego. You can't contradict or disagree with NPD because they are unable to regulate the emotions caused by conflict. Conversely, SZPD does not care about the opinions of others at all and places little value on them.

Our sense of superiority is legitimate, meaning we just do genuinely believe we are smarter than other people. So your mileage may vary on how insufferable you find that. I recognize this trait in myself and work to actively challenge it since it is illogical for me to think I am more special than anyone else. But, my ego is very stable, so criticism doesn't bother me the way it would in NPD.

Interoception means the sensations you feel inside your body. We lack this, so even stuff like hunger and tiredness don't impact us until we are very hungry or extremely exhausted. I don't have the feeling you would to look at a family member and get a sense of love or trust. I have a logical sense of obligation that I developed through choosing what I value based on reason. I describe this as care, and I place importance on my friendships, but there is no emotional component to this, it is all cognitive.

Tangentially: I'm somewhat of an optimistic nihilist, believing that there is no grand purpose to existence. Yes, even as a religious person. I don't think G-d ultimately has a purpose either, as an agent of the universe. (I don't believe G-d created the universe.) We have a human nervous system, so we base our rubric for morality on suffering and decide what is meaningful both collectively and individually.

I don't believe in true freedom of will (but I do believe we have agency), because we know that Bereitschaftspotential or reaction potentials occur in the brain up to two seconds before we become conscious of a volitional desire. Our consciousness occurs because of quantum synchronicity in the brain, so our free will is in a bit of an in-between state rather than fully determined or fully free.

So, we are not born deciding "I'm going to be an abuser," that happens because of brain abnormalities. It's no different than the forces of creation and destruction at work like a virus infecting a host cell. I don't place much importance on concepts of self-hood, I view myself as the electrical and chemical processes that occur in my brain, which happen without my choosing, that I can influence and impact through my own agency.

Anyway, these are just some basic schizoid meanderings for you all and I hope that this was informative or interesting in some way. Peace.

[cocklessboy]

So here's the thing about having a post break containment on tumblr: if you make a mistake in the original post, there's absolutely fucking nothing you can do about it.

The people reblogging once you realize your mistake aren't reblogging it from your blog. They're reblogging it from someone you never even knew existed. If you edit the original, it does not affect the copies already being passed around.

You can make an addition to the post with a correction! But here's the thing. Posts tend to break containment if they are tagged and people see it in the tags they follow. But reblogs don't appear in tags. Only original posts do. So your addition will only be reblogged by people who follow you, and it's pretty rare for a post with a correction added in a reblog to break containment in the same way as the original.

So you wind up getting a lot of reblogs with angry comments about how you're wrong (and that's if they're being polite - the less polite ones will attack you rather viciously, which is not something I would wish on anyone). And even if you didn't make a mistake, if there's something you didn't make clear enough for Tumblr Reading Comprehension™️, you'll wind up inundated with angry comments from people who missed the point, and it's too late to go back and adjust your wording to make it clearer.

(That's why I'm making a new post for this instead of responding to the comments I got on the post in question, by the way. I'm hoping some of the same people who spread around the original might spot this one in the tags and share it around as well.)

So what is this about? I recently made a post about how a friend was worried that I was addicted to my ADHD meds purely because I said I look forward to taking them and they bring me joy.

The purpose of that post was:

Something bringing you joy doesn't necessarily make it addictive. (For fuck's sake stop being afraid of pleasure.)

Even if something is addictive, that's not inherently harmful.

Don't be afraid to take your meds just because they might be addictive. If they help you more than they harm you, take them.

I also made a comment about how my ADHD meds aren't addictive anyway. This is the point people have been pouncing on me about. So allow me to explain where that assertion came from.

My psychiatrist, an ADHD specialist who manages my meds: I know you're nervous about addiction and tolerance to meds, but don't worry. If you have ADHD, methylphenidate is not physically addictive.

My GP, who I got a second opinion from out of nervousness: Yup, your psychiatrist is right. You don't need to be afraid to take these. Take them as directed and you will not form a physical dependence on them. If you notice them getting less effective with time, though, you can always just take a break from them to remove any tolerance.

Me, after a year and a half of taking these meds: Yup, no addiction here. I guess my doctors were right.

So here we are. Two doctors and my own personal experience have assured me that ADHD meds are not something to be afraid of. Yet I keep seeing people afraid to take their meds because they're afraid of dependence. So why don't I do a nice thing in this post of mine and reassure my fellow gremlin-brained tumblrs that their meds are perfectly safe to take!

And to be fair, I've gotten quite a few reblogs with tags and additions and comments saying thank you, I was afraid to take my meds, even though they help me, but now I'm reassured that I shouldn't be scared.

And I think that's a positive outcome.

On the other hand, I'm getting some very angry comments from some people who seem to think I'm attempting to spread a vicious, intentional lie claiming that people with ADHD are immune to stimulant addiction and that I'm going to do all kinds of harm, presumably on purpose, because there's nothing I enjoy more than ruining other people's lives! 🙌

I would assume that anyone who thought about this for more than three seconds would realize that's not the case, but this is tumblr.

I've gotten angry rants ranging from "this author you've never heard of wrote a book where he defined addiction as inherently harmful, and therefore you're harming people by saying being addicted to something is not inherently bad!" to "STOP SPREADING MISINFORMATION!!!" to "OP is making statements that are incompatible with reality!" and folks? I'm real fucking tired of it.

Is it possible that my doctors are wrong? Of course! Doctors get things wrong all the time, especially when it comes to stuff like ADHD! But yelling at me from across the internet and accusing me of lying is not helpful.

There is nothing I can do about the original post. I can reblog it with an addition clarifying that yes, everyone is capable of becoming psychologically dependent on basically anything in a way that would be considered addiction, and yes, that includes ADHD people and their meds.

To be clear, this does NOT contradict the intent of my original post: that ADHD meds are good, you should take them, medication making you feel good is nothing to fear, pleasure is not the same as addiction, addiction is not inherently dangerous, and according to my doctors, who are fallible human beings but my most trusted source of information as of the writing of that post, ADHD meds are not physically addictive - as in, your BODY will not become dependent on them to function. This is the definition of "addiction" I had in mind when I wrote that post - and I think in a lot of cases the thing upsetting people is that we don't even actually disagree on what we're trying to say, but there was a miscommunication in terms of what I actually meant.

If I could go back and edit that original post and have it change everywhere it's been reblogged, I absolutely would. I would clarify where my information was coming from and what definition of "addiction" I intended, and reiterate that even if something can cause physical dependence, that doesn't necessarily mean you shouldn't take it.

But I can't. That post is out there now and there's not a damn thing I can do about it.

Keep this in mind as you go forward in your tumblr journey, friends. If you come across a semi-popular post with a mistake in it, you can bet every bit of your ass that OP has heard about it many, many times already, probably in very impolite terms, and there is nothing they can do about the original post. Unless they're a massively popular blog, a reblog with an addition or correction will not be seen by the people spreading around the original.

And for fuck's sake, stop assuming ill intent on the part of people who say something incorrect online. There are people out there who intentionally spread misinformation, but those people are rare, and usually trying to get you to not vote democrat in US elections, not trying to encourage you to take your fucking meds. If you see a mistake, it's probably an honest one, and if you really want to correct it, be a decent fucking human being, be polite and kind, and try assuming good intentions on the part of the person who said it.

The person telling you to take your meds is not your fucking enemy.

Oh, and do me a favor and reblog this, please. I actually have very few followers so no one will see it if it doesn't get reblogged. Thank you.

[mrssabinecallas]

just a pinch.. |H.C|

Pairing: Miguel O’hara / f!ADHD!reader

in which the fearless leader of the spider society has a soft spot for his right hand (wo)man and her silly little habits :,) <3

CW! lowercase intended, headcanon formatting, fluffy fluffy fluff, very VERY broken spanglish (i don’t speak spanish as good as i used to so some phrases will be from google translate </3), some swearing, ADHD reader

NOT PROOFREAD >:D CHAOS

credit to my friend kelley for making that for me :D ^^ let’s pray she doesn’t see this and doesn’t find my tumblr account she would be ashamed of me

miguel has always been nicer to you than everyone else, he doesn’t really know why but he just gravitates towards your energy

your bubbly personality is a very stark contrast to his brooding aura

opposites attract i guess 🤷🏼‍♀️

but when you started to just hang around in his presence more, he picked up on some of the strange things you did…

for one, you literally could not sit still

he thought about webbing you to a chair just to ease his own anxiety by the constant movement

he also noticed you can’t be comfortable in any normal position

you always have to be doing something strange

usually that entails sitting upside down in chairs or with your feet propped up on the wall

constantly fiddling or picking at something

whether it be the necklace around your neck or a loose thread on your suit, something was always being messed with

miguel found all of these.. quirks, for lack of a better word, endearing

it was strange to him

he had been in love before, but he felt he wasn’t capable of love anymore

so when he started falling for you of all people, he was in denial

he just chose to ignore it, but you were like a leach that wouldn’t leave him alone

clingy af fr

one morning he came to get you from your apartment because you weren’t answering calls on your watch

one knock, no answer

second knock, still no answer

he grew increasingly worried about you and just walked right into your quarters

the door was unlocked

*que fight or flight miggy whos prepared to tear apart the house to find you*

only to find you in your bathroom with your headphones on

BLARING music

and taking some sort of medicine

you didn’t even hear miguel come in, so imagine your horror to him just hugging you from behind

“miguel? the fuck?? you scared the shit outta me…”

“¿que estas haciendo mi amor? estaba muy preocupado por ti..” (what are you doing, my love? i was worried sick about you…)

“i’m taking my adderall?”

“what does that do??”

“my adhd meds? keep me from going bonkers,” you couldn’t help but giggle at his face

“you have adhd???” he was completely clueless

“just a pinch” lol

this explained basically all of your strange habits that he came to love

since then, he always made sure to remind you to take your adderall

he could always tell which days you forgot, you become a lot more hyperactive than usual

sorry guys i had no idea how to end this but i haven’t seen any fics with an ADHD reader so i thought i’d contribute 🫶

ADHD PEEPS REPRESENT

love you all, if you enjoyed please show some love, and STAY FUCKING HYDRATED OR ELSE

RAAHHH

[scoonsalicious]

Unwanted: Chapter 17, Unanswered - Pt. 1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, 🤮, really corny made up headlines that I am disproportionally proud of.

Word Count: 1.6k

Previously On...: The night of the gala, you had a heart-to-heart with Steve, and it seems like he understands that there will never be anything more between you than friendship. Bucky's off on a raid, and you're still sick as a dog.

A/N: Cue the sitcom-level misunderstandings and miscommunications! Onward toward shenanigans! Just kidding! It's gonna be angst!

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when I update, please enable notifications from my Blog page!

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Taglist: (Sadly, tag list is closed; Tumblr will not let me add anyone new. If you want to be notified when I update, please Follow me for Notifications!) @jmeelee @cazellen @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @blackhawkfanatic @buckybarnessimpp @hayjat @capswife @itsteambarnes @marygoddessofmischief @sebastians-love @learisa @lethallyprotected @rabbitrabbit12321 @buckybarnesandmarvel @fanfictiongirl77 @calwitch @fantasyfootballchampion @selella @jackiehollanderr @wintercrows @sashaisready @missvelvetsstuff @angelbabyyy99 @keylimebeag @maybefoxysouls @vicmc624 @j23r23 @wintercrows @crist1216 @cjand10 @pattiemac1@les-sel @dottirose @winterslove1917 @harperkenobi @ivet4 @casey1-2007 @mrsevans90 @steeph-aniie @bean-bean2000 @beanbagbitch @peachiestevie @wintrsoldrluvr @shadowzena43

Tumblr will not let me directly tag the following: @marcswife21 @erelierraceala @jupiter-107 @doublejeon @hiqhkey @unaxv @brookeleclerc

As soon as you woke up the next morning, you were in the bathroom, throwing up once again. You were very much over this, thank you. Maybe you should go down to med bay and get checked out. You’d do it if you were still feeling poorly by the end of the day.

You went to the sink to rinse out your mouth and nearly jumped when you caught sight of yourself in the mirror– sleeping in your makeup had not done you any favors, that was obvious now. You looked like a rabid raccoon with the way your mascara had smeared around your eyes and your lipstick had smudged around your mouth. Grumbling to yourself, you hopped into the shower, hoping to wash away all traces of the trash panda that had taken you over down the drain. 

When you finished, you decided you had earned yourself a rest break, so you dressed in your comfiest of loungewear and flopped yourself back down on your bed. Picking  your phone, you checked to see if Bucky had texted you to let you know the raid had been successful, and he was safe once again.

Before you could check your messages, however, you were bombarded by a barrage of Google alerts for your name. When you’d taken on the position of Stark Industries CTO, you’d set up the alert for yourself, wanting to keep an eye on any and all news items that might pertain to you, just in case some nosey reporter decided to go digging for information about your past you’d rather have stayed buried. Thus far, you’d managed to keep yourself out of the spotlight.

All that seemed to have changed overnight. You were met with headline after ridiculous headline, each accompanied by photos of you and Steve, taken without your knowledge, from the night before:

“Love in the Lab? Captain America Spotted Getting Cozy with Stark Industries CTO!”

“Sizzling Speculation: Is Captain America Courting Stark Industries' Chief Techie?”

“Behind the Shield: Captain America's Covert Romance with Stark Industries' Techno Prodigy!”

“Avengers Assemble... for Love? Captain America Linked to Stark Industries' Brainiac!”

The photos themselves were ridiculous; carefully selected snapshots of innocuous moments cropped to look far more scandalous without proper context than they really were. Steve leaning in to speak in your ear with his hand on your elbow; you and Steve dancing; Steve holding you up when you almost fell, which looked a lot like he was about to lean in to kiss you; you and Steve looking cozy in conversation on the sofa; Steve’s hand at the small of your back as he led you out of the banquet room.  Fortunately, because of the full face of makeup you were wearing, you didn’t feel like you looked much like your everyday self, but it was still unmistakably you.

You scanned some of the articles, looking to see what sort of bullshit they’d come up with to sell this absolute garbage.

“‘I can’t say for sure that they were together,’ said one male guest at the gala, who asked to have his name withheld, ‘but there were many, many men who approached her throughout the evening, and she rebuffed every single one of them, except for the Captain!’”

“One of our sources reported that ‘100% without a doubt, Captain Rogers and Ms. (Y/L/N) left the gala together, and Captain Rogers couldn’t seem to keep his hands off of her! Let’s just say they left fairly early, and neither one seemed to find their way back to the party.’ Is it possible the two were engaging in a private celebration all their own?”

“An anonymous source inside Avengers’ Tower told our reporter that ‘Ms. (Y/L/N) has been involved with a certain super soldier for quite some time now. They tried to keep it secret for awhile, but everyone here knows they’re an item, and they are very much in love.’”

“Captain Rogers and Ms. (Y/L/N) were unavailable for comment. Perhaps they’ve yet to emerge from last night’s love nest.”

You tossed your phone onto your bed and let out an annoyed groan. Wonderful. Now you’d have to get a hold of the company’s PR team and spend the rest of the day coming up with a statement refuting the reports to give to the press. Oh well. At least you and Bucky could have a good laugh about it when he got home.

Oh shit– Bucky. There was a small chance he might come across one of these articles, and you wanted to give him a heads up before he had an opportunity to let his insecurities get the better of him and spiral. He had to know how ridiculous the entire situation was.

You picked your phone back up and hit the button to call him, but it went straight to voicemail. Odd, but not completely out of nowhere; he was probably somewhere with shitty service. You began speaking at the beep.

“Hey, baby. I just wanted to give you a heads up– I woke up to a string of garbage headlines implying that Steve and I are together, but I just want to assure you that is absolutely not the case. The entire thing is a fucking nightmare. We were both at the gala, and he kept me company for a little while. We just talked and danced a little bit, and he helped me out when I was feeling dizzy. Still sick, by the way. Threw up again this morning and I— sorry, off topic. Anyway, I did talk to him about his feelings for me, and reminded him that I only see him as a friend, like family. I think he took it well. No tears, at least, and he wasn’t mad. He said he just wants us both to be happy.” You paused for a minute as you considered Steve’s words from the night before. 

“I want us to be happy, too, Buck. I think I’m ready to try again when you get home, if you want. I miss you. Not just because you’re not here right now, but I miss us. I love you too much to waste any more time not being with you.  So, let’s do that, okay? Let’s start over. Stay safe and come back to me, Barnes. I love you.”

You ended the call and decided to text him, too, just to be on the safe side. A call might not be able to go through, but a text might.

>> Hey– just left you a voicemail. There’s a bunch of stories about me and Steve going around the internet that are all complete and total bullshit.

>> Gotta meet with PR to put out a statement. Wanted you to hear it from me before you saw it online or something.

>> I’m so sorry if it stresses you out– it’s stressing *me* out.

>> I hope you know that I would *never* betray you like that. 

>> Be safe, my love. I can’t wait for you to get home. I think I’m ready to try us again if you are.

You sat there, staring at your phone for several long minutes, as though you could will him to respond to you, but the text thread remained dormant. You tried calling him a few more times, but each call went straight to voicemail.

Meanwhile, it seemed like everyone you knew who wasn’t Bucky was trying to get in touch with you to ask you what the fuck was going on– and even more people you didn’t know; reception had left you several harried messages asking how you wanted to field requests for comment from at least two dozen reporters. Wanda was lamenting that she and Vision were away at the shore for the weekend and couldn’t be part of the excitement, and Nat swore that if she wasn’t horrifically hungover, she’d be in your room grilling you for information as you spoke. 

“There’s no information to grill for, Natty,” you assured her. You rubbed your forehead– now, in addition to your nausea and persistent fatigue, you had the pleasure of a pounding headache, as well. “We danced, like, three quarters of a song, I almost passed out, he helped me stay upright, and we talked. I told him there was never going to be anything more between us than friendship, and he walked me to my room so I wouldn’t faint on the way. He left me at my door.”

“What does Barnes think about all of this?” she asked you, and you could hear the smirk in her voice, hangover or not.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “I tried calling him a hundred times to talk to him about it, but I keep getting sent straight to voicemail.”

“Well, I wouldn’t get too riled up about it,” Nat said. “There’s swaths of areas of Russia that don’t have cell service. Besides,” she added, “you’re not the one that can’t be trusted. If he doesn’t believe you, he’s got a lot of fucking nerve.”

You couldn’t disagree with that. “Yeah,” you sighed, “you’re right. I just wish I could reach him, at least to know he’s safe.”

“Eh, don’t worry about Barnes,” Nat said. “His head’s almost as hard as his arm. He’ll be fine.”

You had to begrudgingly agree to that, though his silence continued to unnerve you. You said your goodbyes to Nat and checked the time on your phone screen. Your meeting with the head of PR was in about fifteen minutes; might as well start heading down now. The sooner you could find a way out of this mess, the better.

<- Previous Chapter / Next Part ->

[stabbyfoxandrew]

I am proceeding orderly to your askbox, totally not running and stumbling over myself, humbly requesting the light of my life, Angel Neil. Or Mer AU, if Angel Neil isn't behaving and needs quiet time in the corner. (I haven't been paying much attention to Tumblr lately, I hope you're doing well!)

WIP Wednesday (9/25) | Guardian Angel Neil AU (Part 239)

"Her name was Lacey,” Bee says finally. “She said she saw ghosts."

"Past tense?"

"Past tense." Betsy repeats, looking solemn. "But there are no similarities between you and Lacey. You describe Neil as an angel, a being who would not hurt you. Her case was... Very different. I just wanted to be sure. And now I am. You have nothing to worry about.”

“Oh, I have plenty to worry about. Neil is not on the list.”

“If that ever changes, if Neil ever threatens you, I need you to tell me."

"He won't." 

"But if he does."

"Then I swear on hot chocolate and reality television that I will come to you first." Andrew says, holding up his hand as if he's testifying in court. Bee seems pleased by that. And amused. Andrew puts his hand down. “So… You're still of the mind that Neil's my imaginary friend, correct?"

"Or a harmless side effect of your medication."

Andrew sits there for a moment, pushes his tongue into his cheek. "What if he's not?"

"What if he's not harmless?" Bee asks, looking the slightest bit alarmed.

"No." Andrew gestures with his hand, trying to communicate without having to come up with words. "What if he isn't a side effect?"

"Are you suggesting that he is actually an angel here to protect you?"

"What I am suggesting, Betsy, is that it's a bit strange for him to only have shown up a few months ago when I have been taking these things for years."

"I…” Betsy closes her mouth. “That's a good point."

"So, what if the drugs have nothing to do with him? What if I'm just plain ol' psychotic?"

"I'm not sure that's a possibility, Andrew," Betsy says, flipping through his paperwork. "You have no family history of psychosis—"

"Oh Betsy, you forget who you're speaking to. I have no family history, period. If you recall, I only have two living relatives and they're both my age. My sperm donor could be tied down in a psych ward anywhere in the country and I would never know."

"Okay. You're right. It is possible. But I think the chances are pretty slim.”

“How slim?”

“Nearly non-existent.” Bee says. After a moment, she continues, “I have patients who are psychotic, Andrew. I’ve had patients who were schizophrenic. You do not exhibit the same symptoms as they do. I promise.”

"So I don't need to get fitted for a straight jacket."

"Exactly. Andrew, I'll reassure you as many times as you need me to. But I think you're fine. After June, we'll know if Neil was a side effect. If he sticks around after you're off your meds, we'll talk about it more. Okay?"

“I don’t think he’s a side effect, Betsy.” Andrew says. “I’ve seen him without them.”

“Without them?”

“At night when I come off them to sleep. Early in the morning before I’ve taken them.”

“Ah. Then, like I’ve been telling you, he’s a coping mechanism.” Betsy says. But she's wrong. Andrew has seen Neil eat and drink and hold things. He’s felt the angel’s warmth when they sat side by side. If Andrew has seen him sober, Neil is not a side effect. If Andrew is not psychotic, Neil is not a hallucination. That means he’s real. 

Boo hoo for Lacey, but Andrew's got an angel.

"I think you'd like Neil," Andrew says randomly.

“Of course I do. He’s good for you." Bee says, taking Andrew by surprise. She's said as much before, but not in so many words. As if answering an unasked question, she continues with, "You've told me that Neil encourages you to take care of yourself, to spend time with your family, to catch up on school work, and to take exy more seriously. These are positive things." 

“The rest I’ll give you. But exy will never be a positive.”

[christiannerd]

IBS is a disability

TW for discussion/vent about how a disability affects me, and mention of having to hide pain

Disclaimer: I am new to Tumblr, and have yet to watch an etiquette video. If I have accidentally said or done anything I wasn't supposed to, it was entirely unintentional, and I deeply apologize. I will correct it as soon as I am made aware.

Warning: long post ahead (under the cut)

IBS should be considered a disability. I know a bunch of people in the disabled community online already consider it one, but legally it's not considered one.

Sure, im still able to have a job and do my school work, but that doesn't mean it doesn't make those things harder than it would be for someone who's digestive system isn't a mine field.

What happens when I have a flare-up at work? Which, by the way, has happened before. I can't just take a 2 hour bathroom break in the middle of my 8 hour shift! So I just stand there. in pain. ignoring the pain. keeping that customer-service smile on my face so the customers don't notice I'm in pain.

One time (before I had my meds, so the pain was a lot worse back then too) I was working a shift and my boss stationed me in the elevator. Literally the most useless job I could have been given, I was just there to press the buttons for customers. (I had a more important role at one specific spot in the shift, but that lasted like 5 minutes). I had a flareup towards the beginning of that shift. I could tell this was going to be a multi-hour bathroom visit, so I couldn't do anything about it until I got off work. I was in so much pain that I just wanted to curl up into a ball and cry. But of course, I couldn't do that. I had to stand there, and smile, and keep working. So not only was I having to smile through the judgemental stares and comments bc I was being paid to press elevator buttons, but I had to ignore being in agonizing physical pain as well.

Its not that my IBS stops me from having a job, but it probably effects my performance at my job. Who can focus in that much pain? Sure that day focus wasn't really an issue bc I was just pressing elevator buttons, but in any other position it would have been a major problem. And if I dealt with the problem to make the pain go away, I'd lose several hours of work, on a consistent basis, and probably be fired for it.

And as far as school, hygine, and social life goes, I lose several hours out of my day, every day, to being stuck in the bathroom trying desperately to make the pain go away. You think that doesn't effect my ability to find time for homework? You think that doesn't effect my ability to make it to class? You think that doesn't effect my ability to take care of my body in other ways?

I very often have to choose between going to class or taking a shower, because the time I was suppose to be in the shower, I was on the toilet. I often have to choose between getting my homework done, and spending time with friends, because the time I was supposed to be doing homework, I was stuck in the bathroom. I know homework vs social life is a common time balancing problem for students, but for most people it's "less time with friends to get the homework done", but for me it's very often "no time with friends to get the homework done". It's so isolating. If I didn't see these people at church, and at club meetings, I'd probably never get to see them. (and yes, I have missed or been late to those bc of my IBS as well)

My IBS has kept me up until the middle of the night before. It's made me miss class. It's made me late to things. It's made me miss exams! (Thank goodness my professors were understanding enough to let me take it another time).

The only ways I can manage my IBS is by taking meds, and/or severely restricting my diet. My pills help me be able to avoid some of the pain from eating food, but like any disability aid, it doesn't help 100%. Without my meds, most vegetables are completely out of the question. So is a long list of fruits, and so many other things. Even tea hurts me! Coffee too! Meds help, but I'm still in pain. Less pain, but still pain. And im still spending hours in the bathroom. 1-2 hours at a time, instead of 3-4, but it's still countable in terms of hours.

This is a lifelong condition that I was born with. If any other part of my body was effecting me this way, no one would doubt that I'm disabled. Heck, this effects me more than some of the recognized disabilities that I have! How is this not a disability?

[littleststarfighter]

As someone who has Major Depressive Disorder, it's super hard sometimes. I get that. But recognizing that is just step one. The next step is to get help, however that looks for you. And please take these next words as intended (tough love) but your art style clearly works well for the Steddie fandom. To the point where you would have no problem turning it into a side hustle or even full job. But it's not the fandom's fault that you didn't hold onto a good thing. It's not the MCR fandom's fault that they seem to not be the biggest fan of your art style. You know your depression is a problem and it's preventing you from opportunities. So now doing something about it.

I'm going through Perimenopause and it's been a year since my mum passed so I'm all over the place mentally and my moods got very low recently. I hate that I let it get to me online. I'm on meds for depression and in grief therapy. Though I'm trying to look into more help for peri because it's awful.

I deserve the tough love. I didn't mean to stop drawing Steddie, because I still love it. I just felt pressured. When you have people laying into your art and picking it apart it really gets to you. You can't force yourself. Or I can't. I'm a person who draws what my heart wants and it's been MCR recently because it's felt safer. I've been trying to balance Steddie and Frerard. But finding out people in discord were zooming in, looking for mistakes in my art and calling me a tracer, the balance tipped too much I know. That's not to say I've not got plenty of Steddie left in me. I do. I had a poll recently on Patreon for it and got a tie, I'm planning to draw for both winners. 

It's just been hard feeling positive when I'm going through a very rough time offline which sadly I brought to fandom and I shouldn't have and I'm really sorry. I do regret not drawing Steddie full time like some, but I'd never make a living out of that. When I talk about not making it I'm talking about full time work. I've been applying for art agencies and creative jobs and getting rejected every time. I just wanted my art to be something I can work with because it's the one thing I'm okay at. The only thing that makes me feel I'm worth something.

I’m really sorry for getting down all over my tumblr. I'll try to keep positive. I just wanted somewhere to vent. I’ve deleted my posts and I'll just get back to drawing and trying to be supportive to artists, writers ect and not bring things online again.

[psychabolition]

Why are so many of the antipsychs on Reddit basically fascists when it comes to every single other opinion they have? And antipsych communities on Discord devolve into encouraging suicide. I believe in antipsych beliefs. But I feel there’s no safe space to discuss it.

I also feel like theres so little room for criticism of psychiatry as an institution !

The antipsych reddit also confused me. I shared literally none of their beliefs . I just related with their anger at a system/institution that has harmed them. I dont really use discord but honestly this doesnt surpise me 💀.

I feel like only tumblr has some blogs from anti psych activists who's opinions are actually founded on a consistent and comprehensible criticism and a political theory that actually explains why the psych system harms people and what can be done to change it .

I think this is because criticism of psychiatry that doesnt individualize your own experiences is very taboo and you cant talk about it anywhere so theres little room for systemic criticism to develop. Also psychology positions itself as a "science/just as scientific as medicine" and to question science in todays society is just like questioning god in times of feudalism lol.

I think to criticize a whole system you have to know that youre not alone in what you experienced and also what experiences other people have in this system - but psychiatry doesnt create community, most people who are labelled as mentally ill are very isolated from other people who get the same "treatment" and who have the same experiences so theres no real way to develop an awareness that youre not alone in your oppression. And social media also doesnt create community ,obviously .

It was really hard for me to challenge this taboo that psychiatry created to talk about my bad experiences with this institution .Any time I mentioned that therapy makes me get worse and meds never help and how awful it is that "my whole personality is a disorder which can never be cured" (I genuinely believed this) and for which I also never really wanted a cure because my "personality" is all I am. I was always met with people telling me to try more therapy and more meds and more of the same bullshit that actively harmed me . No one wanted to hear about my bad experiences . I was always silenced with things like "ok it didnt help YOU but youre making other people scared of trying meds !" or "ok it might not have helped you but other peoples lives are saved by psych wards . So dont make other people scared of going there by talking about what happend to you ." :/ People acted like talking about my real life and real experiences harms other people??? Really ironic to claim that Im fearmongering considering that psychiatry relies a lot on fearmongering (like that people kill themselves if they arent institutionalized or if they arent on meds) to justify its abuse.

BUT 1 friend really supported my anger at this institution and listened to me which made other friends also consider my criticism and anger as valid and as worth listening to. Whats funny to me is since my beliefs got more politically "radical" and I believe that the psych system shouldnt be reformed anymore but abolished, other people actually listen more to my criticism of this institution . It helped to read a lot about the subject too though , now I talk about my experiences not as something that sadly happened to me because I'm unlucky but I talk about them as systemic issues that I know others are affected by too.

I'm currently travelling but I'm really hyped about anti psych activism and I want to do more of that when I'm back home . Only reading and talking about how bad this institution is just makes you depressed . Actually doing something to make a change is so liberating .but yea, right now theres no room for this kind of systemic criticism . we have to make room for it.

[staciesometimeswrites]

Groundhog Day Final Chapter

BuckTommy Fix-it Fic Rated: T

3,815 Words

No Editor/Editing

On Ao3

Chapter 1 on Tumblr | Chapter 2 on Tumblr | Chapter 3 on Tumblr | Chapter 4 on Tumblr | Chapter 5 on Tumblr | Chapter 6 on Tumblr |

When he wakes, the minimal light passing through the blinds is gone, leaving the room blanketed in darkness. Shifting his head, he notices Buck has returned, passed out in one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs that Tommy knows hospital rooms use to deter family from staying overnight.

He’s leaning onto one fist, mouth hanging open as he snores quietly, oblivious to Tommy’s gaze. Tommy’s heart aches as he watches him, remembering how it feels to sleep next to Buck’s warm, solid body. He misses the way Buck curls into a shrimp shape, hugging anything that’s nearby. At first, he always seemed to go for whatever pillow wasn’t being slept on, but within the month, Tommy became Buck’s favored hugging pillow. And Tommy relished in it. No matter how shitty of a day he had, coming home to Buck in his bed was a guaranteed mood lightener.

A lump forms, and he swallows it down, turning away from him, not wanting to remember. Even so, he feels the phantom scrape of Buck’s scruff against his chest as he adjusts in his sleep, and the way he’d whine when Tommy would extricate himself on days he had to work and Buck didn’t. There’s the ghostly scent of Buck’s favorite coffee wafting from some far off distance and the smell of homemade brioche French toast.

No, wait. Buck’s never made Tommy French toast before, at least not from scratch. The dreams come back to him and he moans quietly; he can see her face in his mind - the little princess that the universe really said copy and paste Buck’s DNA. Knowing that she’s just a dream hurts almost worse than the physical pain. She’s something Tommy could’ve had with Buck.

Sighing, he closes his eyes and wills himself back to sleep.

The next time he wakes, the sun is coming through open blinds and Adelina is asking what he would like for breakfast. Head a little foggy he replies, “Nothing. I’m good.” To which she gives him a somewhat reproachful look but just nods, telling him to call if he gets hungry. He smiles at her as she leaves the room. Sighing, he searches for the bed controls and presses the “up” button for the head of the bed. It moves slowly, but smoothly, yet it still gives Tommy pause as pain lances through his healing arm. Adelina had upped the drip with the pain meds a little but they have yet to kick in. Soon, he’s in a mostly upright position, giving him a better view of the room.

He’s not surprised to see that Buck is no longer sitting in the chair. Serves me right, I guess. I’m surprised he even stayed once he found out I wasn’t dying. The thoughts are needle sharp and dig at him but he can’t deny them. If he was in Buck’s shoes, he’s not sure he would do any differently.

Surveying the room, he finds that he doesn’t have any of his personal effects; his phone was shattered in the crash and his clothes had probably been cut off of him in the OR. Somehow that made him feel even more alone. Mind heavy, Tommy settles in for what’s going to be a very long, very boring day. Just as he’s reaching for the TV remote, a shadow fills the doorway a moment before the younger man steps through carrying two cups of coffee.

Holding one of them out he mutters, “I um… I asked the doctor if you could have coffee and she said uh… She said you could have a little bit.” He can’t look Tommy in the eyes, even as he brings it over to the sliding table within Tommy’s reach. Tommy can’t help feeling touched, eyes growing warm. “If nothing’s changed,” Buck continues, pulling up a chair right next to the bed, “I got you your favorite.”

A little too quickly Tommy replies, “No, nothing’s changed. If I never have to drink another cup of shitty gas station coffee it will be too soon.” He nabs the warm cup with his good hand and brings it to his lips, inhaling the glorious scent of roasted beans with a hint of vanilla, and a little something else. He misses the way Buck’s lips quirk up just the slightest, though his blue eyes remain lifeless and despondent. He’s twisting his own cup between his hands, letting it cool nearly to room temperature.

They sit in a somewhat amicable, if not entirely too awkward, silence as Tommy sips at the coffee. He feels like he wants to tell Buck everything, and nothing all at once. He wants to fill him in on every little thing that’s happened to him in the last eight months; tell him about the new books he’s picked up but hasn’t been able to read because he thinks of how he used to read to Buck while he cooked. He wants to go into detail about the breweries he visited, but hated, because Buck wasn’t there to make faces at all of the craft beers Tommy made him try. Tommy wanted to smirk at the fact that Buck secretly liked some of the fancy drinks but would never admit to it, not even under the penalty of death. There’s fights to talk about, and muay thai and the old beater someone brought Tommy to work on and restore in his free time.

Tommy wants to spill the beans about how he can’t stand to be at home, alone, because every inch of his space is infused with Buck’s essence, and how being there physically hurts him.

But he says none of that, up until he drinks the very last dregs of his coffee, holding the empty cup to his chest as he gazes down into it, hoping to find some answers. None are forthcoming as the silence edges into oppressive. Buck hasn’t taken a single sip of his own drink since sitting down at Tommy’s bedside. He stares off into space, clearly trying to dissociate from the situation.

“You know.” Buck breaks the silence first, words so soft Tommy strains to hear him clearly. “I’m not entirely sure what I was hoping for when I asked you to move in with me.” Tommy’s breath catches but he remains silent. Waiting. “Before that, Josh had asked me if I loved you, and I couldn’t answer him. Not at the time; not right away. But then he broke it down for me, and I think I had a lightbulb moment. Even though I wasn’t able to say it right then, I knew. No one had ever made me feel like you did, not even Abby. I told you that she had been the most transformative relationship in my life until you came along, and that’s still true, but you were also more than that.”

“Buck…” Tommy doesn’t miss the way the man's shoulders hunch and his posture stiffens at the use of his nickname.

He shakes his head, finally lifting his gaze to meet Tommy’s, a hard set to his mouth, eyes slightly narrowed. “I couldn’t find the words to describe my exact feelings. I think you felt like I was just idolizing you because you were my first queer relationship. I’m not a mind reader, but I think you were scared that one day I was going to wake up and decide I didn’t like men, that it was just a phase. That it was just all in my head.”

“Buck, that’s not true.” Tommy says sharply, taking offense at the implication that Buck’s sexual preferences are something he can simply choose. “I mean, maybe it was a little bit, but I never thought you’d leave me because you didn’t like guys anymore. You’re still young and I’m not.”

Buck snorts aggressively. “Like that’s much better. You know, I expect the people who knew me pre Abby to have certain expectations of me; they think that I’m a player who can’t settle down, that I jump both feet in without thinking first. I never expected that from you. I never expected it from the person that I couldn’t stop thinking about after fucking up our first date so badly that you left me at the curb, and I couldn’t even be mad because you were right to. I didn’t expect to be dropped like a bag of lead by the person who gave me a second chance and still showed up to my sister's wedding after fighting a fire for eighteen hours and was dog tired.” Tommy swallows and looks away, unable to keep looking him in the eye. Buck inhales deeply through his nose and finishes, “I sure as hell didn’t expect it from the person that I came out to all my friends and family in one go with because I was so excited to see you that I couldn’t help but kiss you in the emergency entrance waiting room.”

Breath hitching, Tommy tells him, “I wish like hell I could tell you that it had nothing to do with you, but I would be lying. Your experience has been a lot different than mine. You’ve been surrounded by supportive people since coming out. You’ve never had a reason to hide who you are, or who you’re with.” Taking a shuddering, calming, breath he continues, “It might not be like it was ten or twenty years ago, but you have to understand that people like me… People who were gay before it was okay to be gay… carry a lot of scars in our hearts. We learned to protect ourselves, to harden our hearts and to not hope because hope meant eventual pain. We could be in love, but we remained scared. I remained scared.”

“What the hell are you trying to say, Tommy? Are you telling me that, because I didn’t go through the same hardship as you, that I could never understand?”

“No!” He shouts the word and begins to cough. Buck wordlessly reaches over and grabs the half full water glass with the straw and brings it to Tommy’s lips. He drinks it down before letting his head fall back against the pillow. “You… You painted this glowing picture of me. You told me how amazing I was for being comfortable in my own skin and even though I rebuked you, you kept coming at me. I felt the weight of all of those expectations and it was crushing me. I’ve had enough experiences in the past with baby queers putting me on this pedestal to know that a relationship can’t be maintained that way. Eventually you would see that I’m not this poster child queer man. I’d begin to crack and over time I know you would grow to resent me. They always do. Do you know how many men had their bi awakenings with me in the army who played the part until they returned home and learned there was someone better? Someone less broken, less fragile? Someone who wasn’t still trying to play the part of the straight white man?”

“I’m still not understanding.” Buck’s brows are drawn together, a deep groove in his skin like he’s lost in thought.

Sighing, Tommy turns his head and looks straight at the younger man as he says, “I loved you, Buck, but knowing that you would leave me as soon as the mask began to crack, I needed to protect myself because I couldn’t handle yet another heartbreak. If I broke my own heart, I could heal. If you broke my heart… I’m not sure I would have survived.”

Buck’s baby blues glisten, damp nearly to the point of spilling over, but they don’t. “You… You loved me?” He sounds broken, the question a barely audible passing of air through his vocal chords.

“Do you want to know what I dreamed about while I was asleep?” He steadies himself. “In my dreams, we were married, just like you said we could be thanks to those that came before us. You were the captain of the 118. People loved you. We had two kids. Twins.” He can’t help the small smile as he remembers their faces. “Pipa and Jonah. Pipa was a total princess, with a rats nest of curls, but your same blue eyes. She was a firecracker. Then Jonah, our sweet little boy. He had your birthmark.” Tommy taps the spot on his own forehead with his good hand. “It wasn’t quite the same, but similar. His eyes were blue, too, but they had a bit of green in them. All he wanted to do was take care of his sister; he was always there for her.” He snorts. “Until he wasn’t and they fought like all siblings do. But overall, he was a caretaker, like you.”

“I’m not…” Buck tries to interrupt but Tommy steamrolls right over him.

“We had such a beautiful home, Evan. A gorgeous multi-story home with lots of bedrooms; a bathroom for you and me, and a bathroom for the kids. We had pets - a surly black cat named Rain and an old basset hound named Rudy that couldn’t even be bothered to play.” Tommy’s voice is thick with emotions as the dreams flood back to him, free from the distortions and the pain. His chest aches so damn much. It’s not just his bruised ribs that cause pain to flare each time he takes a breath. “I retired and became a stay at home husband if you can believe that. I was so bored I didn’t know what to do with myself, even if it was just a coma version of myself.” Evan’s chuckle is wet even as he nods in agreement. “I still kept up with my pilots license. I think I even taught classes once in awhile, though my dream never got that far. My brain decided that we were meant to be happy, Evan.” He forcefully clears his throat because it’s so clogged he’s struggling to breathe through the emotions. “My subconscious showed me what I had always dreamed of. A husband, with two point five kids and a white picket fence in suburbia. And it showed me that with you.” 

Evan is up on his feet, pacing, hands running restlessly through his hair. Every few treks across the floor he brings his thumb to his mouth and nibbles at the nail until it hurts. Finally stopping, he turns on his heel and stomps to the bed. “You loved me?” He asks again. He sounds just as choked up as Tommy.

Without hesitation Tommy nods. “I’ve never stopped, Evan.” Saying his name out loud feels like a cool breeze on a hot day against his soul. It releases some tension inside of him, uncoiling like a snake waking from sleep. “I didn’t want to be hurt by you, Evan, but I knew as soon as I walked out that door that I would never find anyone else. Because you’re it for me, Evan Buckley. You were meant to be my forever.”

Evan sinks into his seat and drops his head into his hand, breathing so hard Tommy worries he’s about to hyperventilate. Just as he considers picking up the nurse call button, Evan speaks. “You’re all I’ve thought about since that night, Tommy. Everything I did, everywhere I went, I was reminded of you. At night I couldn’t sleep because I didn’t have you breathing beside me, pressed against my back. I baked half of LA out of flour because I baked every time I thought about calling or texting you. And you were never far from my mind.” He takes a heavy breath, still not looking at Tommy. “And everyone tried to keep me from calling you. I’ve never hurt so much in my life, Tommy. Not even getting struck by lightning and nearly dying hurt as much as you leaving did.” Tommy thinks about making a quip about being struck by lightning again but he keeps quiet, allowing Evan to have this moment.

They sit in silence for another moment before Evan gets to his feet and leans against the bed railing. Looking into Tommy’s eyes he confesses, “I think… No, I know… that I love you Tommy. I think I’ve known for a long time, but I was just too much of a coward to say it. And that ended up hurting the both of us. I jumped the gun asking you to move in because I couldn’t figure out how to tell you those three little words out loud like an adult.” Another deep breath. “I haven’t stopped loving you either, not once. Even now you’re the only one that I can imagine by my side.” He grabs Tommy’s hand and plays with his fingers, stretching his hand out and then massaging each knuckle as he gazes down at it. “I… I want you in my life forever, Tommy. I want to have fights, and movie nights, and talks so late into the night we regret it the next morning. I… I want to have those two point five kids with you, and exactly one cat and one dog. I want that two car garage out in the middle of suburbia, even though the commute is inconvenient because I want those kids to grow up with a green yard. All of those things sound like an absolute dream to me. It’s something I never could’ve even considered a possibility before moving here to LA. Really, I’m not sure I’d even considered having kids of my own before I met you.”

Tommy shrugs a tiny shrug, feeling a bit warm in the face and ears. He knows he’s turning red, whether from embarrassment or pride he’s not sure, but he can’t stop it. “I feel the same. Before meeting you, Evan, I didn’t think I was even worthy of having kids. You made me want those things.”

Another pregnant silence. Evan still massages Tommy’s fingers, playing with them. It drags on, the room growing darker as clouds pass over the sun. There’s rain in the forecast. “I… Do you still want that, Tommy? With me?” His voice is so small, his posture tense and unyielding. He’s bracing for impact, and Tommy understands why. The last time he asked such a life altering question Tommy had broken them both into a million pieces. But not this time. Never again.

“Evan, I would die a hundred thousand times if I could get just one more chance with you. I would give up everything I have, everything I am, to go back and fix the stupidest mistake I’ve ever made in my forty years of life. You are everything to me, and I want to take every single thing you’re willing to give.” Especially if you’d be willing to give me your heart again, patch worked and all.

“And if I told you you didn’t have to die even once? That all you’d have to do is make me a promise that you’ll never break?”

“Well, I think I’ve already technically sufficiently died once, so I’ll try not to make it twice.” Tommy sasses, earning a genuine snort of laughter from the man who holds his very soul. “Since I can’t promise not to die again, what can I promise you to show you just how much I’m still in love with you?”

Evan takes his hand into both of his and gives him a steadfast stare as he answers, voice deadly serious, “You have to promise me that you will never pull a stunt like that again. I know you’ve had your heart broken, and that you’re scared, but I’m sick of people walking away from me. I’m sick of giving away my heart only for it to come back to me a little more crippled than before. I’ve only got one more heartbreak left in me, Tommy. I can’t do it again.”

Tommy curls his fingers around Evan’s and stares straight back at him, all traces of humor gone. “I swear to you, on all that I am, that I will never leave you, Evan. You are my everything. As much as I belong to you, you belong to me. No matter what happens going forward, I want to face it all with you. If there comes a day where we need to part ways,” Evan opens his mouth to protest yet again, but Tommy gives him the look that quiets him and continues, “I will continue to be there for you because the love I have for you will never end. Ever.”

A second later there’s cracked, dry lips pressing against his, fitting like the final puzzle piece of his life. Taking his hand back, he wraps it around Evan’s neck and pulls him in just that little much closer as he feels warm wetness on his cheeks. Maybe they’re his own, maybe they’re Evan’s, but most likely they’re theirs mixed together. Like they should be in everything they do. Evan’s breath tastes a little stale but Tommy doesn’t care, closing his eyes to bask in everything he’s been missing for the last eight months. Evan braces himself on the bed with one hand while placing the other directly over Tommy’s heart, putting no weight on it so not to hurt him.

Eventually they break apart, breathing hard, both their eyes moist but no tears to be seen. As soon as their eyes meet, they’re breaking into smiles and then laughter bubbles up and Evan leans in to press their foreheads together. Tommy wraps his hand around Evan’s neck, and Evan wraps his around Tommy’s and they stay that way until Evan whines of a cramp in his neck. Once he’s sitting back in the chair, moving it as close to the bed as he’s physically able, he says, “I love you, Tommy.” He squeezes the larger, calloused hand held in his.

Returning the gesture, Tommy smiles back, full on crinkles and wrinkles, as he replies, “I love you, too, kid.” Evan chuckles. He makes an ‘oh’ face and begins scrabbling for what Tommy can only assume is his phone.

“Everyone’s really worried about you. I should call and let them know that you’re awake, and doing alright.”

“You didn’t do that earlier?”

Evan blushes, looking sheepish. “I was too worked up. It’s all your fault you know.”

Chuckling quietly, Tommy nods. “Yes, yes, it’s all my fault. Now, go call your family. I’ll be waiting for you when you get back.”

“Promise?”

“Always.” Tommy watches as his boyfriend leaves the room to go make the no doubt endless phone calls he needs to make, unable to keep the grin off his face. A lot of terrible things had happened to get him here, a few he’ll regret until the end of eternity, but nothing, and no one, could ever make him regret Evan ‘Buck’ Buckley.

-x-

If you made it this far with me, thank you from the bottom of my heart. This didn't turn out exactly how I expected it to, but I have to say I'm pretty happy with the end result.

If you liked it here, I would really appreciate a kudos, comment, and or bookmark on Ao3. If you don't want to, I totally get it. I appreciate your interactions here with me on Tumblr.

Much love!

[beeseverywhen]

So I've been thinking about what tumblr is in this metaphor and I've decided: tumblr is like a pirate radio ship/commune on a boat. Some ppl saw what twitter was doing and they were like yeah we could do that and they grouped together and bought one of those really big ships. Like an ex cruise ship. And everyone was like 'this will never work they are doing what twitter is doing but in a batshit and frankly stupid way. They are more interested in painting the boat to make it look all funky rather than learning about how boats work and what they need to do to keep it afloat and how they are gonna get food and stuff. Everyone is like 'this is gonna end up badly and they'll all come to land with their tail between their legs, apart from those that are chronically sea dogs, who'll end up going to twitterland where things are actually being run properly, or else they'll consider Facebook' (which is actually a harbourside company town, but the houses are all on stilts.)

While twitter was ensuring they got important society running tm people and Facebook was ensuring the company store was filled to the brim with products from their sponsors and was like selling timeshares so that ppl could live part time in their little pods on stilts tumblr was like yeah sure everyone come on board. So you had like a section of the ship full of clowns and another full of tired adults who've quit their professional jobs and run away to find themselves and there's also a thriving lbgt section of the ship that's just like regular lbgt people who don't feel they fit in to the communities they lived in before. And there's a reasonable number of teenagers barely old enough to leave home, who've all run away from the confinement of the societal expectations or whatever

Every now and again there's rumours from the land press that some celebrity is in hiding on The tumblr (this is some kind of pun between like a drinking glass and a boat. I don't know) but all the tumblr residents are kinda shifty about it and no interviewer knows if it's all some big joke or if rockstar of the week really is hiding out on there, apparently along with a few actors, some authors and a few artists. They aren't lying they just don't seem to care. Celebrity? What celebrity? That's just Neil. He's on dish duty this week.

So for a good few years twitterland is thriving Facebook town is thriving. Tumblr is doing better than expected? They haven't sunk the boat yet. Lots of people from various walks of life like to come there to get away from things on a little retreat in to Weird tm culture. People on there are a bit elitist like 'yeah we aren't sheep, living on land under capitalism, we are here, living life as humans are supposed to. Creating art, having weird sex parties. It's all good'. The only thing these groups of ppl have in common is that they don't really vibe with regular culture on land. Its a counter culture thing. But they all live alongside each other pretty well. Mostly keeping to their own parts of the ship but getting on well when they bump in to each other. The guy that owns the largest share of the boat is like 'look. I'm going to sell a stake in the boat to my buddy so we can do some improvements' nobody agrees but it happens and nothing really changes. The old owner is still the captain. People are kinda annoyed cause they are like. 'This was a communal thing' but the guy is like, yeah but I decided to get things going, to find a boat, refit it, invite people to stay. I've been steering the boat all this time. This is for the good of everyone, the boat will be better for it

And then, a group of some of the younger residents, decide to put on an event, but they have no event planning skills and also, commit a deadly sin on board the boat: they bring money in to it. Usually money only changes hands when ppl leave the boat, but they decide to host a party on board the ship and get residents to pay for it. The party is very underwhelming. It's a great embarrassment and lots of people leave the boat for good. Its no longer seen as a good retreat for celebrities, a few stay, but they are more 'tumblr weirdos' than they are celebrities by this point. They've shed the garb of 'celeb' and fully acclimated. The hold outs are mostly ppl that were already kind of uncomfortable with being 'celebrities' they've always been more comfortable just being a weird guy just like everyone else left on the boat.

News places stop bothering with tumblr, they are more concerned with Facebook town and twitter which are considered successful, and are making money with advertising/ product placements in the 'life in a day' videos they churn out. The ppl left on the tumblr ship fully lean in to the weirdness. But without any celebrity following/positive news, on land ppl are very much unimpressed with tumblr. The guy who bought out the share goes bankrupt and the share of the boat gets transferred to a different business. After a while the original captain is like 'you know what. Its been a wild ride but I don't think boating is for me. I'm going to go live in a house. GL.

The business conglomerate that owns the share in the boat is like. Well. You need a captain. Can't just leave you to it. We've got a great guy for the job. Don't worry he loves this whole thing. He's a strict business guy and everyone is like 'he's going to sell the boat off for parts! They'll take our home!' But actually the new guy is very in to the idea of the tumblr boat, though he really doesn't get it. He keeps popping in for little holidays. He's like 'I think we could make this a holiday resort' and all the residents are like, this would be a terrible holiday resort. It was once a cruise ship, sure, but its something very different now. Why would we turn it in to a holiday destination when there are already 100s of non converted cruise ships doing a better job? And the guy is just like sipping a pina colada through a straw still dressed in a suit, like shrugging. 'It's only an idea'. He seems to be enjoying himself but he still seems a bit baffled by things, he's like 'so what's with the sex parties' and everyone is like, it's no big deal. Those of us not involved are used to it by now we don't care. They seem to be having a good time. Good for them.

Tumblr has been finding it hard to find places to moor up and resupply (it's still disorganised as hell so who knows how they're buying their communally owned food) for a while and it's not been helped by the fact that their 'all are welcome' policy has led to a few on the run criminals camping out on board, without them knowing which has given them bad press. The new captain is like 'I can solve this. Don't worry about it' and next thing they know, he's hosting a press conference saying that the boat is banning sex parties. And everyone is like?! How could you do that? Some of them are like 'sex parties are a part of life on board. We'd be nothing without them' and others are like 'personally I'm not bothered about the sex parties but I don't think they are the problem, we keep asking you to remove the wanted criminals we've warned you about, but you did nothing and now you want to boot out the rule abiding, perfectly civil sex party attendees? How could you make a decision like this without consulting us. Who will you be kicking out next? This is a slippery slope'. And the guy is like hold on a second let's not be too harsh. "Look guys. We need to reboot our image. These harbours are saying they don't want us to dock. They say we aren't family friendly. They say we've got nothing to contribute to their economy's. Banning the parties is the only way. Nobody's getting booted. You all have the opportunity to promise not to have sex on board again, and to dispose of all the posters advertising past parties and the photo collages and stuff and If you do that, you're free to stay.'

Nobody's impressed by that so loads of people leave. Either because they were attending parties and want to continue to, or just because they don't agree. By now parts of the boat are straight up abandoned. There's nobody new to move in to the rooms people left, so they are just like, standing dark and empty, still decorated, but abandoned. Time goes on, they don't have any trouble docking but it's getting harder and harder to pay for supplies, with so many less people and the company with the big share in the boat are not so willing to pay for things now they see there's little hope of them getting any of it back. (Things are just depressing now it's all empty. They'll never sell this as a resort) eventually they sell it off to another company.

The ppl still living there are very resistant to the new owners like 'they already took our sex parties and drove away our friends. How much worse can it get? What are you going to do?' And they don't trust any suggestions. But the new owners are like 'look. We kind of understand how things work on your boat. We don't personally have anything like this, but we do have experience managing a load of little communities living as property guardians in abandoned hotels/resorts. Its not the same! But we do have an idea of what you are trying to do here. You are artists. We get that.

And people start to warm up to them a bit when it's been a year or so and they aren't selling off bits but eventually the new guys are like 'look we can't keep paying for your food without any contribution. Our other communes give us a cut of their business proceeds, some of them pay rent. Everyone is very unimpressed by this, but over time they warm up to the idea somewhat (it's made clear that the boat needs major repairs if it's gonna keep floating) and unlike the last guy who was pretty content to drink pina coladas and imagine he was on a different boat, the people from this company do seem to be interested in hearing from the residents. They are making small repairs. They are hosting residents meetings.

They set up a gift shop, stocking things that the residents might find amusing. They set up a few paid for initiatives that get completely shot down. They convert some of the abandoned rooms in to double sized rooms and are like 'you can pay to upgrade and live in a bigger cabin'. You can pay for a new door in an interesting color or new carpeting. They set up a stage and a gallery. People can pay to display their art/ do a comedy routine or play music. Some people pay for stage time to bring issues to light. People are still very hesitant. There's a spectrum of ppl joining in with the efforts they approve of (gift shop. Personalised doors) but ignoring those they don't agree with, and then some ppl strictly refusing to support any of it, and setting up sit ins/graffiting posters advertising the paid for ventures.

And then, some ex twitter residents start dribbling in. Some are like 'I'm only here for a short holiday while they work on putting out the fire' some are like 'I'll be hedging my bets and splitting my time' others are like 'wow this is like vintage tumblr. I can't believe you've remodelled this ship to look just like the one from a decade ago'. Twitter does not work to put out the fire. Long lasting residents are a bit like ??? Do they not know we've been here all along. More and more people move in, trying to bring some of the quirks of their twitter world community to the boat. The gift shop keeps going. Advertisers pay to put up posters. The gallery seems to regularly have art so clearly someone's paying. Nobody is really sure what the future looks like.

I can not tell if some of these bots are bots. By combining random words they are perfectly emulating tumblr users. The only thing that I'm clinging on to is how averse the average tumblr is to having their face next to their posts. But some of these bots are starting to use pictures of ppl out doing things/ messing around and I'm like... this could be a person. Is this them or is it a meme. Their face isn't in it. It's not centred on their body. This could be a person. Especially as twitter continues to slowly sink like a very slowly burning very very large construction in the sea.

It's like one of those big abandoned rigs/sea stations where years after its been left some ppl come across it and move in like 'we can repurpose this' and next thing you know they are living there like 'we are a country now' and things seem to be thriving and they appear to have a functioning society and its like 'have these ppl escaped capitalism' and then one day there's some kind of disaster and loads of ppl abandon it and come back to regular society and they are all like telling stories about how it was.

And then as time goes on every now and again another person gives up and abandons ship, and comes back to land living society with a even crazier story about what's been going down since the last person left. And time goes on and eventually it's like largely abandoned. The ppl still living there are either very loyal or remain thanks to sunk cost. And its pretty well understood that by this point the guy in charge is a dictator and its all a bit culty and there's no real reason to stay. Its just living amongst like empty rusting offices (cause there aren't enough ppl left to keep it running like a society/improving so it's just like an abandoned weather station in the middle of the sea again and the weather's always shit cause its the middle of the sea. The dream is dead, they are just only realising one at a time.

And then one day someone's boat goes past and the place is on fire and everyone's like hey are you guys OK? And tries to evacuate them. But they are all like 'our leader says its fine. Its cool we don't need rescuing. Like you could rescue us. Life on land is shit. Enjoy capitalism losers!' And everyone's a bit like uncomfortable about leaving them there, but it's like. What can you do. They are just like 'the fire keeps to its side of the station we keep to ours, its np.'

But everyone decides to keep an eye on things all the same. Reporting on things out of morbid curiosity and a little bit like 'you can still get out. We're here.' And then one day the place (still on fire) starts to sink in to the sea and you really think they'll jump ship now. What's left? But they are still clinging on to this dream of what it could have been. And the place is like burning but also littered with advertisements cause the cult leader is letting just about anyone sponsor them, and it is a burning wreck sinking in to the sea, but also its on the news 24/7 so there are always ppl willing to stick their logo on it

Anyway, I've got completely carried away with my metaphor here. But twitters like that. And as ppl slowly abandon ship and are like 'I guess we'll return to the shitty lives we thought we'd escaped' they bring a bit of 'comune that's also a country on a rig in the middle of the sea' culture with them. And so there are now more ppl on tumblr doing twitter things like having attractively posed pictures as their icon

[trannyradfem]

I seriously can't fucking believe the people on this website sometimes I swear to fucking GOD ugh.

I was visiting my grandpa in hospice!! grieving... Sometimes, a block is just a block. and not about you.

Like, please! For your own sake, even. Don't take them that personally. There is no shortage of people who disagree with me on this site, and I'm open to discussion, but I don't have the resources to fully entertain discource with every single person I interact with. Especially as this blog surprisingly grows more popular than any blog I've ever had. I did NOT see that coming. It's absolutely nothing personal.

If you're fighty about it, or I see other comments by you-- after I've interacted-- that indicate you're going to be hateful or cruel back at me, then yeah, I probably will block you. And honestly I feel more validated in my block after being shown said person saying "no debate is a TRA tactic" and "TRA trolls infiltrating radblr" when describing what I did. It's dehumanizing, acting like we can't possibly be genuine. So no, I don't want to interact with you. I do not genuinely have the energy for that.

Do the same-- curate your internet experience more, seriously, it has such a positive impact on your online experiences, and in no way waters down your radfem beliefs. sometimes posts and threads are just not worth ur time. And there is genuinely research out there on how the things you view and scroll on social media drastically influence the way you think and feel in very subtle ways that can compound over time. Seeing shit you vehemently disagree with that upsets you to that extent on repeat would have a negative impact on anyone's psyche.

Activism should be much more than just Tumblr anyways, yes?

Anyways. For anyone who's followed me, some venty updates under the cut. Sorry I haven't been around or checking notifications. I keep telling myself that I'm going to check every single one of them because I truly do appreciate the interactions and love talking with y'all, but lately I've been stretched thin and on heavy pain meds most of the time. And it's been months, even years for some of you, and the list just keeps growing longer.

I don't know when I'll get better, and it's scary. I've been sick and getting sicker for a long time now, and a lot of it is indeed from the childhood abuse and what they did to my body. But there's things happening that those factors doesn't explain, and given what I know about how the nervous system works, it might not be a great diagnosis. I love y'all and hope y'all forgive me for not being active on here. If I somehow recover I will be more responsive, promise.

I've become wheelchair bound, I'm out of work on medical leave, and every single day I feel like I'm fucking dying from my back spasms. My docs don't know what's wrong with me and I'm fucking terrified for my life after this election. My friend's parent tried to strangle her and we're trying to move her into our place to get her out of there. I have the equivalent of a full semester of revamped medical coding content to learn before I return to work. I'm not ready to lose Papa.

I have. So fucking much on my plate. I am. so tired. vhhbvghn. and I'm running out of money and my debt is catching up to me. I feel so fucking stupid now for buying a vacation plan back when I was healthier because holy shit I can't even leave the house now. The monthly payments are suffocating being out of work.

I worked so hard to build my credit score I'm so scared to lose everything I've worked so hard for. I want to be a doctor so badly, I'm already a licensed professional!! But you can't get hired as a doctor if your credit score is fucked!!! You can't get housing if your credit score is fucked... If I ever had to go back to homeless sex work I think I'd just kill myself. I don't want that, I'm not a suicidal teen anymore, like. FUCK. I want to do something meaningful with my life, I want to make this world a better place.

Today, after picking my brain on my career and the ideas I have to fix the medical industrial complex, a doctor told me I have more experience (wrt how the medical system works from several different angles) than most DOCTORS have and I was stunned. Like I squealed out a "thank you..!" and just clammed up.

That meant so fucking much to me. I feel like I have so much potential and being disabled and sick is just so fucking frustrating. Like holy fuck I'm on the right track, there are doctors that barely know me who are impressed with the very little I've been able to accomplish. Like, I gotta keep pushing forward, surviving wasn't all for naught. It's a bit of hope for me.

My nerve ablation is coming up soon, I can't wait. It's been 7 long years of that compression fracture bullshit. I'm so ready to be able to stand and exercise again.

[kapreday]

hi! could you reblog my pinned post please?? sorry for asking, it would help a ton! sorry i promise i’m not a bot 😓 i’m just desperate because i am running out of time and still dont have all my meds and i don’t feel good

Hi I’m sorry you’re going through a hard time, I just personally don’t post donation asks because of the high risk for scams. Doubly so for people who aren’t mutuals AND I don’t know them in real life. It’s nothing personal, I’ve just done a lot of work in the nonprofit/election sector in the US which increases scam calls and texts as well as hacking on platforms like Twitter or Zuck’s Metaverse. It also means that I make poverty wages and have very little left to donate monetarily. Usually when I’m donating, I’m giving my time.

Looks like your ask is going to be the exception that proves the rule, my friend. I’m willing to share your ask for aid alongside my general policy for a number of reasons. First, because I do appreciate how hard it is to ask for help. You don’t get what you don’t ask for. Second, you’re the first fundraising ask I’ve had that didn’t put the link to the fundraiser right in the ask. That can be risky to post to my page because even if I don’t click and donate, it means someone else might if I post it and might get scammed. This has been the case for all the Gaza fundraising asks I’ve received, and I don’t have time to donate to regularly vet fundraisers. You ask me only to click to your Tumblr page! Which leads me to my final reason. You’re not a bot. I cannot possibly vouch that this is not an elaborate PayPal scam or something because I do not know you, but I can tell you’re at least human. The least I can do is use your ask as a way to share my position, giving your blog a platform with which my small Tumblr audience can come to their own conclusions about how to support asks like these. I do hope you’re able to feel better and get your meds @pompomdemiel, but your donation ask is the first and last I’ll post.

Be safe out there.

[firespirited]

So, uh, I had a nervous breakdown - emotional meltdown - mental overload and guilt spiral of sorts that culminated in 5 fully blank* days and nights (*I keep a "times, meds, symptoms and activities" notepad). It's over now as far as I can tell as the cause has stopped, I didn't harm myself beyond some self neglect or cause pain to anyone else. I'm ok, picking up the pieces and determined to get treatment.

Not even sure if those are the correct terms and feel kinda uncomfortable using them like I just "spontaneously broke" as opposed to getting broken down by others but no one here is ready to talk about that so Emotional Breakdown™️ will have to do. Now that I've done a bunch of research and self-examination it was more of a PTSD reaction, a prolonged emotional flashback that I didn't know how to stop and with no outside relief or help.

Long post under cut

I was unfortunately mentally lucid and reacting to very real things but in an emotionally disproportionate way... which was actually not very impressive at all since everything but the sobbing and some talking to myself was happening on the inside, in the foetal position in my pitch black room because who knew? Stress in the neck or face sets off the mega migraines 🙃.

Very uncinematic. Barely an inconvenience to my flatmates. I force-fed myself bread, water and whatever meds might cause withdrawal if discontinued, fed Lily her pain meds at around the same time every night. I'm going to get a good grade in not being a danger to anyone or myself 👍👍👍

I began sedating myself as soon as the urges for inside pain to be visible on the outside got strong enough to actually visualize concrete ideas. Nothing with withdrawal potential: a few months worth of anti allergy meds, M eventually called the doctor once I ran out and had to tap in to my sleep meds, 5 days in to the full-blown meltdown.

Why sedation? I happen (lol no, it's actually pretty related to the ptsd) to be an expert on all things suicide and didn't want those thoughts to even get close to started.

My doctor is stellar, she believed me, didn't act like my grief was unwarranted, prescribed more anti-histamines and kindly but firmly told me to stop blaming myself for other people's choices, we just can't control how other people choose to act. The self loathing had started from a seemingly obvious pattern and spiralled way out of any kind of logic. That grounded me a little on Wednesday.

We talked over my options : the local psych ward is the opposite of restful or safe for migraines; the care homes have waiting lists, especially in summer when people drop off the elders to go on holiday but she's going to try and find me a slot if the current home stability breaks again. Not having any extended family or local friends meant no escape and that didn't help mentally either.

I feel like I've had a really bad flu, I feel very fragile. I feel like things have been very unfair but also not safe enough to indulge any anger about it, not here and now so a sort of numbness has settled in... emotional that is, the migraines are stomping my head and also irritating the bowels because why not add insult to injury? 😂

Mum's violent mood swings were over on Thursday morning and on Friday I decided I had to face life, get back in the saddle before fear could kick in and helped sis go to an appointment that she was very nervous about. Just about managed then crashed the rest of the day.

It felt good to be useful 😊💖and I needed the perspective of there being a whole wide world out there, not just the lovely tumblr folks in my phone 🌸💕🌸 who are close but also unreachable.

Moral of the story, if there is a moral to any of this, … ? Repressing your fears and emotional pain for 30 years will turn you into a sobbing blob with little to no control so don't assume you're handling things because, yes technically you are, until your last tether breaks and then you're just a trauma response at full volume.

Oh and flashbacks don't automatically happen visually or in nightmares like in the movies. I already knew that for me, specific memory flashbacks seem to cause a hollow and weak nauseating feeling like when adrenaline is wearing off but now I know emotional flashbacks are more of a paralysing overwhelming series of waves of many strong feelings. One of the more identifiable red flags among the general mess of emotion for future episodes would probably be irrational and very potent guilt/shame.

So uh yeah, sorry I haven't checked in for over a week or done much of anything, I'll try and catch up as soon as I can 🥰

So now it's beyond confirmed : I have PTSD from stuff that ended over a decade ago, stuff from far older too, you think time heals all but it doesn't heal untreated wounds and I'm going to seek treatment no matter what.

It's mortifying to talk about but if I tell you lovely people, well, I can't run from it any more.

I'm also going to need to set boundaries with some very fragile people but not without the help of an expert, I've been caring for sis and her borderline tendencies for over a year this time around and not been allowed to set limits. Mum's crossed a line she can't even see yet. It could be months before that's a subject we can safely approach.

I have a post in my drafts from last November about finding great happiness in a bare room of a few boxes, a mattress and the internet and how I'd be quite content to live that way again: peace really is worth it. It's like a letter to myself that this was coming and reassurance that I've been happy before despite frightening change and financial poverty.

I have duties to my family and they too have been good to me - there's the expectation that therapy will "toughen me up" to better manage but I can tell from just that disastrous first session with mum present, that boundaries will be part of the deal. That's the most frightening and delicate part. I have been eldest daughter, big sis, selfless friend and good kid™️/parenting kid from my very first memories, any change will be perceived as not being me any more (maybe even to myself), it'll also go against deeply ingrained societal and personal habits.

__________

In other news Lily turned 16, she is happy and healthy. She's been with me for 9 years.

I was hoping to train a new therapy dog as she's been retired for a couple of years and even lined up a sweetheart of a rescue called Vanina. That can't happen yet. Or maybe that's something I need. Idk.

I don't expect any major pivot in the doll hobby, watch habits or Patreon/support to friends at this point but it's all in the air.

Looking forward to getting back to normal and also cherishing (in an odd sort of way, maybe that's not the right word) this moment as a "survived it!!" thing but also "WOW you needed help and it's overdue".

Take care of yourselves lovely people. See you soon.

[dorianbrightmusic]

Saw the tag so wanted to send an ask! Do you want to talk/infodump about the history of antipsychotics and how that relates to ASD because that sounds fascinating.

oh my god i got asked to infodump about my most special of interests. thank you so much, most-definitively-a-human, you have made my day.

Disclaimer: I am not a psychiatrist or mental health professional, and I have no experience of either psychosis or taking psychiatric medication, so I can't promise that the facts are 100% perfect, nor that I have an understanding of what these facts mean in day-to-day life. But the least I can do is try to understand, and hope that someone else finds this interesting, or, better yet, useful.

I cannot be bothered tracking down all my sources again, so if anything in this post is interesting to you, please fact-check it, because I can't promise it's going to be right. This is medical information, so, as this is a rambling tumblr post, please take it with a grain of salt.

Skip to the end for the discussion of how autism, schizophrenia, and the antipsychotics are linked. Most of this is just me infodumping about antipsychotics, since I find them so fascinating for some reason.

Trigger warning: This post discusses medical abuse of people with severe mental illness and neurodevelopmental disorders, as well as the side-effects of psychiatric medication. There is also some discussion of self-harm in autism. As such, tread carefully.

A short(-ish) history of antipsychotics

In 1953, a new medication hit the market. Its name was chlorpromazine, and it belonged to a family of chemicals called the phenothiazines. The phenothiazines contained a lot of very, very revolutionary/historically significant meds – some highlights include methylene blue, an antimalarial that happened to be the first ever fully synthetic medication (which, due to its original purpose being 'fabric dye', had the convenient side effect of making your urine go blue); and phenbenzamine, which was not the first antihistamine ever (that honour goes to piperoxan, which is too toxic to use in humans), but was the first that was safe for use in humans. Phenbenzamine was very, very sedating, and from it, we got another compound, fenethazine. From fenethazine, we then got two derivatives: promethazine, and chlorpromazine.

Promethazine is an antihistamine, and like most old antihistamines, it's very sedating. As such, scientists tested whether promethazine worked for sedating people—and, indeed, it worked as a pretty good sedative. Its younger cousin, chlorpromazine, synthesised in 1950, also was very, very sedating. So, someone gave it to a psychiatric patient who was having a manic episode, and then, something cool happened. That is, the manic patient wasn't manic anymore.

Okay—so, chlorpromazine was sedating in a way that meant it could have some potential for previously difficult-to-treat psychiatric syndromes. (From memory, I'm fairly sure that lithium was around at the time, but frustratingly, not all mania responds to lithium. I don't know whether this patient had been trialled on lithium—all I know is that chlorpromazine worked for him.) So, it was trialled on quite a few psychiatric patients with schizophrenia, and they, too, seemed better.

Now, chlorpromazine, being related to promethazine, had a similar side-effect profile to most old antihistamines. That is, it made you eepy beyond belieepy (i'm sorry). This sedation was also accompanied, rather horrifyingly, by apathy, psychomotor retardation (thinking and moving much slower—I once saw someone online liken it to moving 'through molasses'), and emotional quieting. This triad—not moving, not wanting, and not expressing—was known as neurolepsis, and was originally thought to indicate that the drugs were working well. However, this wasn't necessarily true—in part, that's because schizophrenia spectrum disorders have negative, as well as positive, symptoms, and neurolepsis is basically a combination of actively worsened negative symptoms and physical/mental slowing. So, chlorpromazine made the psychosis better, but also induced neurolepsis, as well as several other side-effects (including but not limited to: reversible Parkinson's-like motor symptoms; orthostatic hypotension, which is when your blood pressure plummets when you stand; and anticholinergic effects, which I'm going to get back to later). Chlorpromazine was wonderful because it meant that finally, patients could deal with psychosis in a way that meant they didn't have to be institutionalised, and because it meant that much, much worse treatments (looking at you, insulin shock therapy) could finally be discarded. Chlorpromazine was awful, because, in addition to its awful side-effects, it wasn't always given consensually, and could be used to abuse and harm patients. Such is still an ongoing problem with antipsychotics—while they have revolutionised psychiatry and allowed many people to live much, much better lives, they've also indubitably been used to harm so many people. This is why it's crucial to have informed consent in psychiatry—and while I don't know how to handle this when a person is going through florid psychosis and is probably very, very scared, we ought to do much better than we are at the moment.

Due to the neurolepsis-inducing side-effect profile, chlorpromazine was deemed a neuroleptic. Most people will use the terms 'neuroleptic' (neurolepsis-inducer) and 'antipsychotic' interchangeably—however, the categories are a venn diagram, not a circle. There are some antipsychotics with only very mild neuroleptic effects (we'll get back to this), and some neuroleptics that aren't antipsychotic—for example, if you've ever the taken over-the-counter antinauseal/migraine relief drug called metoclopramide (Anagraine, Paramax, MigraMax, Metozolv, Reglan, etc), you've taken a neuroleptic. Neuroleptics are dopamine antagonists—that is, they bind to the receptor for dopamine in the brain, which means dopamine can't bind to that receptor, so you can't get the effects of dopamine at that bit. This basically explains neurolepsis as a syndrome, since dopamine is associated with reward pathways and movement; less dopamine in the reward pathways -> emotion blunting, lost motivation; less dopamine in the movement pathway -> i can't fricken' move, can't fricken' move emotionally, Parkinson's-like symptoms (Parkinson's is in part due to a dopamine deficiency in certain movement-related bits of the brain).

The antipsychotics allowed for de-institutionalisation to occur, and also gave rise to the tricyclic antidepressants, as imipramine (the first tricyclic antidepressant) is a chlorpromazine derivative. Fun! Problem was, these older psychiatric drugs tended to have fairly intolerable side-effects. So, the first-generation antipsychotics were by and large very neuroleptic—as such, we needed less neuroleptic antipsychotics for them to be tolerable. This started to happen around the 1990s and onwards, when the second-generation antipsychotics (SGAs)—olanzapine, risperidone, amisulpride, aripiprazole, quetiapine, etc.—started coming out. These SGAs bound to serotonin as well as dopamine receptors, and tended to have fewer motor side-effects than their older counterparts. They came with their own set of extra side-effects, however—some that come to mind are prolactin elevation (sexual side-effects), and appetite increases or decreases (this is not necessarily a bad thing)—but they're generally considered more tolerable, and while they're sedating, they're considered not to induce neurolepsis to the same degree. As such, they're called atypical (where typical means 'cue the neurolepsis and motor symptoms).

The problem with the typical/atypical split, however, is that most atypicals aren't quite as atypical as they're said to be. Every single atypical antipsychotic except for quetiapine and clozapine can still be linked to motor symptoms, and all of 'em can be linked to sedation of some degree. Moreover, one nasty motor side-effect of neuroleptics AND antipsychotics is this thing called tardive dyskinesia—tardive meaning late-onset, dyskinesia meaning unwanted/uncontrolled movements. So, over time, we go from Parkinson's-like symptoms (less movement) to tardive dyskinesia (more, unwanted movements), which is irreversible and sometimes progressive—the only way to deal with it is to switch to another antipsychotic and hope that it doesn't have the same effect, which is great, except if you've otherwise got a nice balance of symptom management and side-effects, that's a horrible curveball. The atypicals are said to cause tardive dyskinesia at much lower rates... except people still get TD on the atypicals. Moreover, most folks who are still taking typical antipsychotics have probably been on them longer than those on the atypicals, since people don't tend to try chlorpromazine first when quetiapine or olanzapine is more likely to do a better job of attenuating psychosis while inducing fewer adverse effects. As such, part of the difference in TD rates may be due to time, since TD develops in the long term. So, most atypicals aren't as atypical as is said.

Moreover, to split more hairs, just as antipsychotics and neuroleptics are a Venn diagram, SGAs and atypicals are also a Venn diagram, rather than a perfect overlap, due to the existence of one pesky compound called clozapine. Clozapine is pesky on several levels. Clozapine is reserved for those who've tried at least two other antipsychotics and found that they didn't fit, and this is because of its side-effects. Clozapine has a small chance of a potentially life-threatening side-effect called agranulocytosis—technically, almost all antipsychotics can cause agranulocytosis, but clozapine is the most likely to do it. If you get regular blood testing, which you will, if you take clozapine, you'll probably be fine. Otherwise, clozapine is the most atypical antipsychotic we have side-effects wise (of course, YMMV for individuals, since the human body doesn't behave according to textbooks), though it still has MANY side-effects, and it's also more likely than the others to be very effective for attenuating psychosis. (I say 'likely' because everyone's brain chemistry is different, so saying 'this drug is better than this drug' just isn't true, because different compounds work differently for different people. Some people will benefit nicely from haloperidol or perphenazine, others from ariprazole, and others will benefit most from taking mood stabilisers, instead of antipsychotics.) Clozapine is also a somewhat old antipsychotic, having been first put onto the market in 1972. But it tends to get lumped in with the SGAs simply because it's so atypical, which leads me back to the point: most atypicals aren't 100% atypical, and drug categorisation in psychiatry is confusing.

One other side-effect that antipsychotics tend to have is that they're usually very anticholinergic. Anticholinergic drugs reduce levels of a neurotransmitter called acetylcholine, which is very important for memory, movement, and so, so much more. However, the reason I mention memory is that most antipsychotics are contraindicated (recommended against) in those with dementia-related psychosis, primarily since depleting memory chemicals is the last thing you wanna do in someone with a major neurocognitive disorder. This is also why we need to be careful prescribing anticholinergics in those over 65. For the record: most severe mental illnesses tend to have some degree of neurodegenerative effect, which is why medication is so, so important, as it prevents that illness-related neurodegeneration: as such, taking an antipsychotic will prevent schizophrenia/bipolar/major depression-related cognitive decline and worsened illness, but may also have some subtle cognitive effects that probably balance out with those of the illness. It's something to monitor over time, but not something to be scared of.

I've harped on a lot about SIDE EFFECTS SIDE EFFECTS SIDE EFFECTS, so this is a reminder—if the name of a certain medication has been brought up here as associated with a side-effect, that doesn't mean the medication is necessarily bad. Antipsychotics have done a lot of good for many people, and so long as they are prescribed consensually, they will continue to be invaluable.

Also: not everyone who takes an antipsychotic has psychosis, and not every with psychosis takes antipsychotics. Medications don't necessarily indicate what illness someone has—they just help with symptoms, and antipsychotics can help with a heckuva lotta symptoms when used well.

Okay, great. How does this relate to autism, aside from that being proof that you, the author, meet criterion B3 for ASD?

We're almost there.

Several early theories of autism conceptualised it as a pervasive, childhood-onset form of schizophrenia ('childhood schizophrenia' and 'autism' have historically been used synonymously at times). Notably, several of the negative symptoms of schizophrenia spectrum disorders can be considered similar to the executive and social symptoms of autism—autism has its own positive set of symptoms, and schizophrenia its own positive symptoms, but there's an overlap between negative symptoms of the two. Autism was originally the name Eugene Bleuler gave to the way schizophrenic patients tended to withdraw into a fantasy world of their own—that is, withdrawing into an inaccessible inner world, rather than reality. While schizophrenic autism isn't nearly as relevant a clinical concept anymore, it's kinda funny how the two diagnoses diverged from that point.

It's also worth noting that schizophrenia spectrum disorders are probably neurodevelopmental, and both schizophrenia-spec disorders and autism feature enlarged ventricles in the brain. But correlation is not causation—this commonality may not mean anything. In schizospec disorders, ventricle enlargement tends to link to greater untreated duration of illness (as a visible sign of neurodegeneration), while in autism, I think it's just there. Not sure on that one, though. Not all people with ASD or schizospec disorders necessarily have enlarged ventricles, either—it's just a thing that seems worth noting.

Further, the predominant theory of how schizophrenia spectrum disorders work is that there is dopamine dysregulation—that is, some bits of the brain are getting too much, causing positive symptoms, and others are not getting enough, causing negative symptoms. Either that, or dopamine metabolism isn't working properly. We largely figured out that dopamine is probably involved in schizospec disorders by working backwards from the mechanism of action of the antipsychotics: that is, neuroleptics suppress dopamine, and dopamine suppression makes psychosis less bad—therefore, dopamine is involved in psychosis. But it's likely more complex than that, in part because not all people with schizospec disorders will respond to antidopaminergic drugs, and in part because SGAs are generally more likely to be effective than first-gen antipsychotics, and SGAs target more than just dopamine. One other theory posits that NMDA, which is a subtype of the neurotransmitter called glutamate, may also be involved. I'm not going to try to explain it here, since I don't know enough about the NMDA theory to be able to coherently string together a sentence about it. But, keep reading.

We don't entirely understand the mechanism behind autism. It probably involves synaptic pruning to some extent. It may also involve having an overactive brain, in part due to lack of pruning meaning that there is no brain highway so much as a network of ratruns that get clogged up very easily, and in part because GABA, the main inhibitory neurotransmitter we have, isn't doing something right. I think it's interesting that NMDA, a form of glutamate, might have links to psychosis, and that autism also probably involves something weird with glutamate, but I also don't know enough to say whether this is just a weird coincidence or if it's actually relevant. Nevertheless, even if it is a coincidence, I do find it funny to note these commonalities considering the historical links between the diagnoses.

It's also notable that autistic people experience psychosis at higher rates than allistic folks—I'm pretty sure schizospec disorder rates are also elevated among autistic folks—and I'm semi-sure autism is also more common in those with schizospec disorders than in those without.

Okay, now to where the meds come in.

Autism can cause varying levels of disability, ranging from those who need relatively little support to those who need full-time care. Often, higher support needs (HSN) autistics tend to have more dramatic self-injurious behaviours, and may struggle more with controlling aggression, with eloping, and other behaviours that are harmful to both themselves and others.

And I'm less-than-comfortable with how modern psychiatry has chosen to deal with this.

The only drug that's approved for treating these behaviours in ASD is risperidone, a second-gen antipsychotic. Some people will find that risperidone works really well for their psychosis—it's an effective drug! —but when it's used in ASD, it's not there to treat psychosis, usually, but to treat aggression, self-injury, and such.

Thing is, the use of risperidone for this purpose is basically an attempt to sedate the autistic child into not doing these things. I'm a low support needs (LSN) autistic who's never taken psychiatric medication, so it's not really my place to judge this as a tactic. I understand that things that some of us initially flinch at, such as putting HSN autistic children on leashes, is the right thing to do if the child is likely to elope, and I understand that if a child is going to hurt themself badly, they need help. But on the other hand, I have reservations since antipsychotics have been used unethically through history, and continue to be used unethically in certain situations. In some cases, antipsychotics may be helpful for autistic children, and I don't know enough to comment, but it's also profoundly uncomfortable to contemplate the fact that certain medications that are infamous for having horrible side-effects are being used on people who may not be able to provide informed consent. It's an ethical conundrum, since if it is the best way to prevent harm, then it's important that we don't flinch on instinct, but I also really, really hope that the HSN autistic people's needs and comfort are being taken into consideration in these circumstances, since both historically and today, HSN autistic people have been treated as subhuman in so, so many circumstances.