#and that I don't need to stop also having an anxiety disorder for that to be true

[cyanomys]

An Announcement For All The ND Girlies

In case you, like me, did not realize this till today:

It's still a special interest, even if you think you're bad at it.

It's still a special interest, even if you haven't had the same one since you were a toddler.

It's still a special interest, even if your disabilities actively get in the way of you engaging with it.

It's still a special interest, even if you're anxious about it.

Nowhere anywhere did anyone say "in order for something to count as a special interest you need to be a fucking savant about it."

These are little made up words in our little made up language and if "special interest" is a term that can help you talk and think about your often-shamed experience in a neutral or even positive way, then go for it.

Thank you.

[redflagshipwriter]

Fast Car Three (of four)

masterpost

“Why would I ever need help from Victor?” Danny scrunched up his brow and puzzled aloud after his passenger got out. He didn't mean to be rude but he was genuinely confused. Vic seemed nice enough, but he was kinda delicate, wasn't he? He was scared of Batman. What for? He was just some guy who was so risk-averse that he wore a motorcycle helmet out in public. He probably held the world's record for diagnosed anxiety disorders or something. 

‘I’m lucky he's so reactive,’ Danny chided himself not to be ungrateful. ‘If he wasn't, like, hyper-vigilant I might have had to talk to Batman. Horrific.’

He shuddered at the thought. He had planned to work a little more, but Danny decided to go back home and rest for a bit. His nerves were a little shot after the excitement of the morning. 

Oh, right. He hadn't checked what his tip was yet. Danny unfolded the bills and his eyes bugged out. “This is fifty dollars,” he said incredulously. “He paid me fifty dollars to take him like 10 blocks, with a 50 block detour.” 

Was Victor, like, okay? Danny cast a dubious look back in his rearview mirror and caught the barest glance of Victor's ridiculously jacked form disappearing into one of the murder warehouses. What a guy. Why'd he do-

“He was hitting on me?” Danny's voice reached a whistle pitch. Ah! Ah!!! Holy shit. What the hell? His face burnt red and he floored it back to his apartment complex, trying to get his heart rate under control. 

It was so obvious in retrospect! The weird awkward pauses in conversation! The huge tips! Asking for his number! 

Danny pulled to a stop at a yellow light rather than run it explicitly so that he could bang his head against the steering wheel. 

“I don't even know if he's hot,” Danny wailed. Instantly he knew it was a lie. He didn't know what Victor’s face looked like. He didn't remember what the photo had looked like anymore and the information was long gone. But he knew that Victor was tall, fit as fuck, and had really nice hands. 

Danny bit his lip and howled sadly. It helped, a little. He stole a glance at the receipt with Victor's phone number on it. He couldn't help but memorize the number. 

“I'm not going to call,” Danny told himself. Even if it was flattering. Victor might be a sketchy guy! Only sketchy people were out at the hours Danny worked. Danny couldn't afford association with anyone like that because he needed the authorities to never ever look at him. 

Also, and probably more importantly: you can't go to medical school if you have any kind of criminal record. If Danny was going to be Doctor Fenton the fourth and be able to provide his and Ellie's medical care, he needed to be a model citizen. He couldn’t trust that Vic would keep him out of whatever weird shit he was involved in.

Well. It wasn't like he was complicit in anything. Danny parked his beloved shitty car in the garage and took the stairs up to his apartment. He opened the door, saw Batman in his kitchen, and closed the door.

“Fuck.” 

Danny turned intangible and dropped like a rock through the floors. He was back in the driver's seat in less than 5 seconds. He turned it on and called Victor with one hand, because he'd just gotten the guy's number and he didn't exactly know a lot of Gothamites. “Hey, what do I do if Batman is in my apartment?” He said as soon as it connected. He turned the car on and peeled out onto the street.

“Wha- move, I guess. Is he there for fucking real?” Victor's electronic voice somehow managed to come across incredulous. “You probably shouldn't go back there. You're in your car?” A horn honked in the background. “You're faster,” Victor said. His confidence gave Danny a little. “I'll send you my gps point. Come to me and we can strategize how to get him off your tail.”

Danny swallowed hard. “Okay,” he said, and violently repressed the part of him asking why this nervous ass Gothamite would know any better than he did. At least Victor was a local. His phone pinged and he opened up the address. “Got it.”

“See you soon.” Victor hung up. 

Danny burnt rubber out of there, heart all the way up in his throat. Why was Batman after him? What did he know? He gasped for air, feeling like he was choking. He needed to be normal. He needed to- to get his degree and get his career and never ever have a whole fucking militaristic brancho of the government after him. He was one guy. When he was 14 he'd thought it was a funny game and the GIW were a bunch of chumps. But they were a bunch of chumps with money, weapons, and numbers. He couldn't afford to fuck with them. The fact that his parents gritted their teeth through associating with the GIW was the only thing that kept suspicion off of Danny.

He cycled through a panic attack and then into anger. What the hell, dude? Danny got that Batman had a bee up his ass about metahumans “in his city” (like he fucking owned it??) but Danny wasn't causing crime or fighting it. He was going to classes and trying to survive. Batman had no right to get involved in his business. 

He was steaming mad by the time he pulled up to where Victor was waiting for him. Victor hauled open an old style garage door and ushered him in quickly. Danny parked inside and sighed over the steering wheel. It took a few moments to center himself and then he got out. “Hey.” He lifted a hand in greeting and then shoved it in his pocket, feeling unimaginably weary. It wasn't even 5 am, jeeze. What was his life? “Thanks for answering.” He cleared his throat and bumped his butt against the hood of his car. “Helluva morning,” he complained dryly.

“It's no problem.” Victor seemed a little stiff and uncomfortable, standing in the middle of the other parking space. Either that or he was posing. “It's not your fault.”

Danny let out a snort. “It's not, but what does that matter?” He shrugged. And then he realized- “Wait, do you know what I am- scratch that.” He made a hand gesture to wave that away. Victor had known what Amity Park was offhand and he'd had a chance to see Danny phase the car through solid matter. “I guess what matters more is why Batman is on my ass. D’you think he knows?” 

Victor looked at him for a long time. “No…” 

“No, what?” Danny narrowed his eyes up at the taller man. 

“I don't think Batman knows that you're…” Victor made a gesture at Danny that explained nothing. “Whatever you are. I think he wants to ask you what you know about me.”

Danny stared blankly at him. “About you,” he echoed. He gave Victor a dubious look. “Why would he care about you?” 

Victor lifted a gloved finger and pointed at his helmet as if that was supposed to mean something. Danny tilted his head to the side like a bird and raised one eyebrow. “Because I'm the Red Hood?” Victor said dubiously. “You know that, right?” 

“You're Victor,” Danny said. He furrowed his brows. “Is - is The Red Hood like, your drag persona or something? Cool for you but it's not really relevant -” 

Victor tore off the helmet to reveal a face that was a lot younger than Danny had anticipated. “It's not a drag persona,” he snapped. “It's- I'm the Red goddamn Hood! You have to have seen me on the news!” 

Danny mutely shook his head. He thought about saying that he didn’t watch the news, but he sort of felt bad for the guy. It was probably safer not to comment.

“It's been non-stop,” Victor said, and Danny could really tell how incredulous he felt without that goofy voice filter effect removing the pout from his voice. “I dropped 13 human heads off at the police station yesterday. Come on!” 

He blinked. 

Wait.

One.

Second.

“You had me take you to the police with contraband?” Danny roared, incandescent with fury. 

“Uh.” Victor looked a little shifty now, even with that dweeb ass mask covering from his eyebrows to his cheekbones. “Yeah, I guess-”

“I'm going to go to medical school!” Danny roared, and suplexed the bastard. Victor went down with a howl and a valiant attempt to dig out Danny's eye with his bent index and middle fingers. Danny went selectively intangible and rolled them both over to start slapping Victor on his stupid face. “I-” slap “can't” slap “have” slap “a criminal record!” He leaned so far forward that his lips were nearly touching Victor's. “Capiche?” Danny jabbed a finger into Victor's stupidly ripped chest. 

“Um.” 

“Capiche? Understand? Do you get my meaning?” Danny howled. “I am an illegal entity! My paperwork is suspect!” He dug his knees a little harder into Victor's sides, struggling to control his strength. 

“Hey man, me too,” said Victor. He seemed mildly surprised by this commonality. “That's why I can't get a driver's license.” He put his hands up by his head. The movement made his incredible biceps sort of…pulse. Bulge? 

Danny blinked, attention caught by something about what Victor had said. “How'd you get your Uber account verified without- oh my god!” He threw his hands up in disgust. “You're not even Victor, are you? Your first word to me was a lie?” 

Not-Victor laughed. Danny was surprised enough that he loosened his grip. But the other guy didn't try to get out. “You're fun,” he said. He had a nice smile, crooked and kissable. Oh, fuck.

Danny felt his whole face burn red. Shit. Abort. He scrambled up, suddenly mortified that he was sitting on the other guy. “What's your name?” he demanded, trying to sound unaffected and mean. 

“Jay.” 

“You're sure this time?” Danny managed to work up a little more indignation. 

“Hands to god, on my grave,” Jay promised. Danny sort of hated that he believed it. 

Danny relented. “Fine.” It wasn’t like he had any moral high ground to stand on about maintaining secret identities, if he was honest. He huffed and crossed his arms. “How do I get Batman off my ass? I'm guessing you don't want me to talk to him about you.”

[disabirbity]

What are some things other psychotics do to differentiate between hallucination and reality? And what are ways some of you hold off symptoms? Looking to get a nice thread for people to help each other going here, this stuff isn't posted about enough.

Ways we prevent symptoms/stop them from progressing:

Make background noise to prevent auditory hallucinations. Most of ours start by hearing something that we can't identify the cause of in the background, and our brain starts the spiral from there. So we listen to music all the time and sleep with a fan on every single night, even in the winter. We just point it away from us if we don't want it making us cold.

Blame the cat (or other pets). Any weird movement, scratching, crunching or thumping? That's just Jerry, don't worry about it. He's a silly cat that does cat things even while we're sleeping. Any noise can be blamed on pets or the wind, which stops the paranoia from setting in and making everything bad.

We also tell ourselves that if there was an actual issue like an intruder or monster, the cat would hiss or scream, and the dog would be barking or making noise. This can be applied to many pets.

Stay busy. Focus on something--art, video games, tv shows and films, craft, gardening, anything that keeps you thinking. Don't let the anxiety get to you, just stay focused on your regular life.

Laugh at it. You're hallucinating a monster in your peripheral vision? Name it Fred and tell him to pay rent. You hear weird noises? Tell them to come back with a warrant. For us, treating symptoms like they're jokes or not serious makes us less anxious and therefore makes it easier to get back to a point where we're okay.

Having a friend or a pet near you can help. We feel safer and less alone when we see another living thing near us that's safe. We don't feel as much like we're trapped in another dimension that way.

How we differentiate between reality and unreality:

Touch it. This one only works for things you're not scared of, and if you don't have tactile hallucinations. It's not foolproof! But when we're seeing things like bugs and stuff, reaching out to touch them causes them to fade away so we know they're fake.

Ask friends and other trusted people if they "heard that" or "saw anything". If they're psychosis friendly, feel free to explain and be specific. If not, be vague and keep it to simple things like "hey did you hear anything? I couldn't tell what it was", if that will be safe enough. Having people to ground you can be great.

Look at how others around you are acting. Are they running or interacting with the thing in question in any way? Do they seem to look at it or no? If no one is noticing, it's less likely to be real.

These won't work for everyone and some of these might be harmful to others, but they're helpful to us. You know best what will help you!

Please feel free to add your own! We need more discussion around psychosis that isn't "scary evil person disorder and how to deal with people who have it".

[furiousgoldfish]

When people hear stories about abuse, they often get fascinated and interested in the abuser, and the 'mystery' behind their behaviour. They'll want to analyze what happened to this person to make them act in such twisted and sadistic ways, and they want to find the past event or past abuse that would 'explain it all'. Abusers will also, very happily recount the past abuse whenever it's time to explain away their behaviour, so nobody could hold them accountable, because after all, they had had it rough! Of course they're now abusive, it's only natural.

Fascination with explaining away abuser's behaviour often leaves victim's situation forgotten and ignored. Victims are supposed to just 'get over it', not be so sensitive, and be careful to not turn into abusers themselves, because after all, being abused means you become an abuser, according to the abuser. Except it doesn't, and victims often don't end up abusing anyone else, especially not in the horrific ways they themselves have been abused. So we're having two opposing stories: one is told by the abuser, and it's easy, simple, explains everything away, and it says, abuse causes future abusers, I am the proof, I was abused and now I am like this. Victim's story goes: I was abused, and now I struggle to function, I have cptsd, I have flashbacks, nightmares, panic attacks, anxiety, eating disorder. I struggle with suicidal feelings and wishing I didn't exist. I feel like I'm not important at all in this world and like I have no community, no family, no home. Failure of everyone to help me while I was being abused caused me to feel like an outcast from society, someone who isn't a part of it, who doesn't matter. I would never do this to another person, I feel like a part of me was torn away into pieces and I struggle to put myself back together.

Now that story is complex, it implicates the society in failing to stop the abuse and making the victim's life worse, it showcases the actual consequences of abuse, which are not 'becoming evil', but feeling ultimately traumatized and damaged, struggling to find joy and happiness in life in the aftermath. Society doesn't want to hear that; it makes abuse into a problem that should collectively be dealt with, rather than pushing it all onto individuals who find themselves trapped in it and suffering. It's much easier to pretend that abuse just makes someone abusive, and for people who are abusive, we need to feel sorry for, because they were 'made to be like this', and for those abused, we just need to shame them and control them so they don't become abusive themselves.

There are abusers who have lived privileged lives, there are abusers who have been spoiled and rewarded for their acts of abuse. Most abusers don't show the symptoms of trauma nearly as bad as the victims of abuse do, they're most often just having the symptoms of 'I lash out my anger on those who cannot defend themselves' and 'everyone needs to feel sorry for me because I am having the roughest time on the planet'. Weird how the victims almost never develop these two symptoms! Victims will go and compare their situation to everyone who has it worse, and will struggle to express or direct anger at anything. 

So what is the actual source of abuse, if not past trauma? There's no study or statistics that can tell us that for sure, and abusers are careful to maintain their story and are not interested in being studied past what makes people feel bad for them. I would guess that it's a mix of entitlement, being in a position of power over someone vulnerable, never having to develop empathy or compassion, being rewarded continuously for acts of abuse, and social influence (admiring other abusers and wanting the power they have). A lot of social structures support and enable abuse of those who are at the very bottom of it, with very few protections against it. A lot of people believe it's their right to abuse someone if they have the power over that person, and gain power specifically for that cause. Abusers will have children and believe this is their property and they can do whatever they please with it, abuse being a part of it.

If we don't know where abuse comes from, how do we combat it? I don't believe in feeling sorry for the abusers or giving them endless attention, chances, excuses and rationalizations; instead I believe we should stand firm on the fact that abuse is inexcusable, and will have consequences, regardless of how it came into their behaviour. If abuse always had consequences, regardless of the history of the abuser, they would know they can't get away with it, that they can't later make everyone feel sorry for them and go on with their sob stories. Abuse would get them punished, not sympathized with.

I also believe the abuser's point of view should be decentralized; it should be victims who get to speak. It's easy for the abuser to show themselves in the positive light, minimizing the abuse, insisting the victim provoked or wanted it, that it wasn't that bad and it was done with 'best intentions'. But if we listened to victims, we would quickly understand that anyone who can do this to another person is monstrous, and should not be extended any sympathy. Abusers don't extend their sympathy to the victims when they abuse, so why should they expect to get it? Society should take abuse more seriously and put defenses into place, so abusers are not as easily able to put it behind closed doors. Resources for recognizing abuse, especially child abuse and intimate abuse, should be taught, spread and shared in society, so nobody would be able to convince another that suffering abuse is normal, or justified.

One of the biggest barriers to escaping abuse is victim confessing what's been happening to a trusted family member or a friend, and then this family member or a friend shaming and blaming them for it, instead of offering help and protection. It takes a lot of courage to even say something out loud, knowing the abuser would punish them for it, and then to be punished externally for speaking out, it's devastating. If abuse was taken seriously, and victims understood to be fault-free, but singled out, isolated and hurt in a way that nobody should be, and it was understood it's a societal responsibility to protect them against this, it would be easier to speak out, and get support. It often takes a society to help someone get free, because abusers are hell-bent on abusing once they start to, the victims need multiple barriers before abusers could get anywhere near them.

And why shouldn't we want that? If we know there are people in society such as children, young people, people without regular income, poor people, disabled people, compassionate people, marginalized people, people who struggle to recognize and flag down predators, shouldn't we want to make sure they're protected? That nothing bad happens to them, and they're free to live their lives safe from those who would do them continuous harm and make them want to die? We want our young, old, kind, vulnerable, sensitive, disabled, poor, compassionate and marginalized people safe and happy. There's no reason to throw them under the bus and leave them to suffer abuse.

[cripplecharacters]

hi, so I’m probably undiagnosed ADHD and I wanna write a character who is diagnosed ADHD and the problem I’m having is with meds. How I was planning to write them is that they’re a drummer and the character doesn’t always take their medicine when they are going to drum because it makes them feel like a bit slower and almost have like a delayed response or something. I’m still working at the kinks, but I feel like that could come off as really insensitive towards how ADHD meds work and like I don’t fully know how ADHD meds make you feel because I’m undiagnosed and I don’t wanna write it wrong and all of that.

-🥁

Hello!

That's... not really accurate to how ADHD meds work at all. Though this would be insensitive, my main concern is the inaccuracy and the harmful misinformation that this is spreading.

First thing: ADHD medication -- like any daily medication -- isn't something that can just be taken when you want to take it. It's one thing to forget a dose every so often but deliberately missing doses on a regular basis is very harmful.

Not taking it regularly can cause the medication to be less effective for your character and can cause them to be hit worse (by their symptoms and their withdrawal) every time they miss a dose. It can also cause the medication to just... stop working for your character as they develop a tolerance for it.

I take Concerta (also known by the name Ritalin) and when I miss a dose, I certainly end up feeling it.

For me, the first thing I notice is just a weird feeling. Like something in the world is different. It's hard to describe but, to other people, I'm told that it looks like I'm spacier and in my own world.

I have a very hard time focusing and can't last more than a few minutes without spacing out -- even if I'm actively involved in a conversation. It makes it impossible for me to attend my lectures and take notes, let alone take a test or an exam.

Because I also have anxiety and several other mental conditions, this also has a major impact on them. The increased rejection-sensitive dysphoria (RSD) that I experience triggers an increase in my anxiety (even if I've taken my anxiety meds), which in turn causes an increase in my dissociative symptoms.

The brain is a complex organ -- one we don't fully understand yet. Nothing happens in isolation.

Aside from the ADHD-specific side of things, there's also the withdrawal.

While it's not as bad as the withdrawal from my venlafaxine (the meds I take for my PTSD, anxiety, depression, and dissociative disorder. Three cheers for medication that multitasks!), withdrawal from my Concerta is still not great.

When I miss a dose, I end up sleeping almost the entire day. I just can't stay awake. I also get a horrible headache that can't be touched by Advil or Tylenol and I end up with no appetite (though apparently most people experience the opposite -- an increase in appetite). I also experience an increase in my depression.

Though it will of course be different for everyone (especially if your character is on a different type of medication), what I'm getting at here is that ADHD medication doesn't work like this. You can't pick and choose when to take it.

Taking ADHD medication doesn't make you feel "slower" or have a "delayed response" or anything like that. In fact, those feelings are more likely to come from missing a dose.

Something else that needs to be considered here is that ADHD medication is constantly portrayed as being bad/evil/negative and especially as something that's only done to dull the character with ADHD and make them more "palatable" to those around them. It's shown as something that stifles their creativity and forces them to become exactly like everyone else.

This can't be further from the truth.

Although it is true that ADHD is often over-diagnosed and over-medicated, the effect that ADHD meds have on those who need them can be life-changing.

These harmful misrepresentations of ADHD medication have major consequences in the real world. Not only do they undermine the struggles of having ADHD and reinforce the idea that ADHD is just being hyper/unfocused, they also discourage people from seeking the treatment that can help them.

When I was first diagnosed, I didn't want to go on medication and my parents didn't want me to either. They thought it would make me dull and lifeless and kill my creativity. Even after I'd done my own research and decided to try it, my father spent weeks telling me that ADHD was just "western propaganda" and didn't actually exist.

I see this same attitude in teachers, other parents, and even doctors all the time.

Although some people can be quick to diagnose a child with ADHD and medicate them when there may be another cause for their behaviour, overcorrecting in the opposite direction helps nobody.

If you want to write a character with ADHD and especially one that's on medication for it, please do your research first. You don't have to have ADHD or be on medication to do that. This article [Link] discusses the impact of poor ADHD representation while this one [Link] talks about what happens when you miss a dose of ADHD medication.

In short: please don't do this. ADHD isn't just the "silly hyper can't sit still" disorder and the medication for it is an actual treatment that helps so many people. Treat it as seriously as you'd treat any other disorder.

Cheers,

~ Mod Icarus

[talking-tics]

Fake claiming people who had tics in 2020/21 needs to stop and here's why:

first of all. I'm against fake claiming in general. you have no idea what people's situations or lives look like. you have no right to tell them what medical conditions they do or don't have. but. let's lay out some reasons why you may have seen a lot more people with tics then vs now.

***

- firstly. it was 'trending'. if you were seeking out people with tics to gawk at. you were going to see them.

- talking about tics brings them out. people were making videos and content about their ts/tics, and so naturally, they were ticcing in those videos. that does not mean that they must tic all of the time in order for them to have tics.

- I spent years trying medications, waiting to see a neurologist. getting on different doses, etc. before I found something that works. when I'm on my meds, I usually don't tic hardly at all. that very well could be the case for some of these people as well.

- tic disorders wax and wane. it's a well known part of the disorders. tics can be bad for a while, and then almost non-existent for a while. and then come back. it's normal.

- tics also tend to get worse in times of high stress and anxiety (global pandemic??!)

- tourettes is not the only tic disorder. the options aren't only. tourettes or faker. there is such thing as transient/provisional tic disorder, which is a very real tic disorder that lasts for less than a year. there are also other causes of tics such as fnd.

- it's a well known phenomenon that people's tics sometimes improve in adulthood. it doesn't mean that they were faking before. it just means that they got a lucky break.

***

fake claiming is gross, and this mindset only does harm to the tic disorder community. it's ableist and ignorant to assume someone is faking just because you're uneducated and think that you know more than the person who actually has the disorder.

please try to support the people you know, and the people in your community with tics. it's rough out here for us.

[bangchansgirlsblog]

Can I please request Skz x 9th member with s3lfh4rm like…the boys trying to help and all those things (you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to)

The stages of healing.

warning: eating disorder and mentions of self harm.

Pairing: Skz x 9th member

Summary: the stages are healing are hard but Chan and the boys are here for you.

!not proofread!

Hope you enjoy this bby!

-🩷

*

"Baby you have to eat something" Chan says while pushing the plate back to my side of the table.

We were currently sat in the dining room and everyone had finished eating their breakfast leaving me and chan (who had also finished eating his breakfast) alone.

"Chan I don't want too, I'm full" I complain while looking at the full plate infront of me. It was obviously untouched but i could'nt bring myself to eat it. It was taunting me.

"You only had two bites and we have training all day today, I don't want you passing out my love. You need to eat something," He says while rubbing my back. He was being gentle i cant lie there but the worryb and frustration in his voice caused me to feel more guilthy at the fact that my brain was a constant maze and battle zone when it came to eating

"Look you can atleast just eat the mashed potatoes and peas so you can give you energy. Trust me it wont be bad," He tries to reason with me but I shake my head no. I was so full and food gave me so much anxiety.

I didn't want to grow fat, I wouldn't allow it.

"Channie I don't want too, please don't make me." I beg him while fiddling with my fingers.

"Baby, I'm starting to get worried. You only have one meal a day and when you do, you barely eat. Please don't make me forcefully feed you." his voice was soft and his touch was so warm. i knew he meant well bu the contant voices in my head wouldnt allow me to do anything.

I look at him terrified, mortified because would he really? I knew Chan was stronger than me but he wouldn't pin me down just to make me eat...right?

"Okay Mashed potatoes only." I sigh looking at the plate. Trying not to cry.

"There we go Babygirl" he smiles and kisses my temple. His eyes twinkle and i couldnt help but also smile at how pretty he was.

"what?" he asks chuckling

"your just so pretty"

"ugh stop changing the subject and eat" his cheeks were now a ligh pink and his ears turned a dark red. he rolls his eyes playfully and runs his hand through his hair.

"Yo Chan," Han says coming into the room and looking over at me and Chan. He gives him "the look".

"Is she having trouble eating again?" Han asks worried and Chan nods his head.

"But it's fine she's eating her potatoes today.”

Han smiles at that and comes over to ruffle my hair.

“I’m proud of you kid.” He beams and I poke out my tongue causing him to laugh.

"Chan can you help me look for the flash drive before we leave?" Han asks,

"Yeah sure, babe eat up. I'll be back." He tells me and leaves the room with Han. I let out a sigh of relief and quickly stand up and dunk all the food into the trash can. My heart was beating because I prayed that Chan would take long looking for the Flash drive but luck wasn't on my side because he came right back into the kitchen.

"Hey-" he stops and looks up from his phone. "are you done?"

"I finished them." I said smiling, well whatever you call a plastic smile. A guilty smile.

"You finished all the mashed potatoes?" He says coming close to me. I nod trying to avoid his eye contact.

"Okay then." He simply says before walking to the trash can.

"N-no don't look in there-" I try to stop him but it's too late. He had already opened it and looked inside. He turned to look at me and he was so mad I could tell.

"Your a liar." He growls. i gulp knowing the concequences of my actions.

"i ate half of them?" i sigh and look up at him. He just shakes his head and lets out a frustrated sigh.

"i dont get it! why dont you want to eat anymore? We were doing so well,"

"is everything okay in here?" Felix's head pops up at the corner of the door.

"she just threw out all her food-"

"again? thats the 4th time this week." he frowns and makes his way into the the room.

"exactly my point,"

"i did eat chan, i ate half the potatoes-" i tug on my long sleeves sweaters and look at the both of them.

He frowns and looks down then back up, searching for my eyes.

“Can I see your wrists?” He asks looking back down at my fingers. His eyes were furrowed. Almost in like a confused way?

My eyes go wide at his request but I quickly shove them away.

“Chan they’re ugly, I don’t want you to see them.” I frown. My voice quivers. The tears that had disappeared were now reappearing.

“Chan I haven’t been cutting I promise-“

“Then let me see, I know you too well my love. Let me see.” His eyes are soft now and were reaching out for both my hands that were covered with my hoodies sleeves.

I sigh and give in. His hands are soft against mine but he pulls up the sleeves. He examines the scars that were now slowly healing. His lips in a soft smile.

“See I told you, I promised you I stopped.”

“Hey hey hey and I’m so proud of you. I just wanted to make sure because I care and love you. You’re doing a good job healing.” his hands wrap around my waist and pull me against his body.

“Ew gross get a room.” Felix says killing our moments. Chan chuckles and pushes him away.

"The cars are here everbody!" Hyunjins voice echoes through the house.

"okay this conversation isnt over yet, here take the banana and we'll talk about it after practice yeah?" he kisses my forhead and hands me the banana before we grab our bags and make our way to the car.

"go ahead eat it, im watching you." chan raises one eyebrow while staring at me. "She still isnt eating?" Leeknow asks after listening to our conversation.

"i am! chans just being a overprotective," i sigh and peel the banana.

"i am not!" he defends himself and i let out a giggle while slowly starting to chew the banana and finishing it. "see i told you," i poke my tongue out at him and he let out a little laugh.

"okay whatever but your still having lunch with me." i mentally sigh dreading the feeling of the banana sitting in my stomach.

i play with chans's silver braclet as we wait to arrive at the jyp building. It didnt take long. It was just a 15 minute ride once we arrived. we all make our way up the building to our normal dance room and set everything up.

"lets start with stretching and then get to God's menu, yeah?" we all groan as we get to our places and minho plays the song.

*

[larissareadings]

It’s okay, love.

➤ pairing: Draco Malfoy x gryff!fem!reader (house barely mentioned).

Request: None

tw: eating disorder; mentions of bullying and anxiety attack.

Note: I’ve wrote this based on personal experiences and what I needed at the time. DO NOT read this if it’s not comfortable for you. If you or someone you know is struggling with an eating disorder, please reach out for help.

English is not my native language so I’m sorry if there is any mistakes. This is my first fic ever so it might not be so good. I hope you enjoy it though.

Summary: Y/N is a keeper at the Gryffindor (barely mentioned) team, who has been developing an eating disorder and Draco Malfoy seems to be only one who noticed it.

Y/N always had problems with her body image. At her early teens at Hogwarts she used to be mocked, mostly by Pansy Parkinson and her friends, because she was too thin. When Y/N turned 14, she started gaining weight since she was eating too much due to her increased anxiety, and then she was again being mocked, except now because she was getting fat, and everyone talked about it, even when they didn’t want to be mean, saying things like “you should get on a diet”. By 16, Y/N started focusing on her weight loss journey, she was finally gonna be health, delicate and beautiful as the other girls her age.

Some months later

It was right after the quidditch match between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. They won, of course, since you’ve let too many quaffles go through the goal hoops. You’re a keeper at the Gryffindor team, and you’re good at it. When you’re not dizzy anyway.

“It happened again, didn’t it?”

you heard the familiar voice behind you. It sounded soft, which was not a usual thing. You closed your locker and turned around to face Malfoy. The others had already left the locker room, so now it was just you and him.

"It happened what again, Malfoy?" you asked him, trying to sound indifferent, when you were all, but that. He had some power over you, it was irritating actually, how nervous you would get when he was around.

Malfoy has been acting weird these past few months, he didn't tease you anymore. When his friends said anything about you, he would either just leave or just stare at you, but never laugh with them, never contribute to their bullying. He was the only one in the group who said nothing about your recent weight loss. The others did. Pansy would never loose the chance to say you finally learnt to shut your mouth.

You hated that he hadn't said anything, you worried you hadn't lost enough weight for him to notice, and you wanted him to see that you could be pretty too.

He looked in you up and down, checking you, before focusing on your eyes again and said "Dizziness."

You didn't understand why he was saying this, why he would notice you feeling dizzy. "Yeah.. just a little. I'm bit distract that's all". A few seconds went by where he said nothing, just stood there looking at you. Was that concern in his eyes? You couldn't tell. "Look, uhmm, I don't know where this is coming from, but I have to go. If you have any jokes to make about me being a bad keeper, or an ugly, fat bad keeper or whatever" you noticed him flinch at that, as if it had hurt him. "say it now or leave it for tomorrow 'cause I'm really tired and just wanna go to my bed"

He walked towards you, enough for him to talk low and look closely into your eyes, making you even more nervous, and said "You have to stop this, Y/N, it's making you sick."

"I don't know what you talking about"

Now he let out a breath in disbelief. "Oh, you don't know what I'm talking about? Let my clarify to you, then, It's a very simple concept, really, I thought you would know it by now." He was actually getting angry. "In order to live, people have to eat. It's the only way to get nutrients into your body. Really, Y/N, that's basics"

"I know about that. It's a good thing I eat, then, right?'' You said also angry now with his sudden aggressiveness.

"Do you though? 'Cause what I'm seeing-" he said gesturing to your body "is a girl fading away, a girl who plays with food at lunch instead of actually eating it, a girl who who used to be a great keeper, but now can't barely stand in a broom because is too weak to do so." He could feel his heart in his throat. He was so nervous, so scared you would fall off that broom. More than he could ever admit. He was keeping his worry to himself for months, hoping you would stop, hoping someone would intervene, but no one did. People just kept either praising your weight loss or humiliating you. But he couldn't stop himself anymore, if you had got hurt today, he would never forgive himself.

You felt your heart skip a beat at that. He was worried. Really worried. You didn't know how to react. You felt seen, someone saw what you were going through. But you also felt good, reassured. So you WERE thinner, and he noticed. “You know what? I don’t get it. Weren’t you and your friends the ones who said I was too heavy to play quidditch? that my weight would slow me down? that I would fall? that the broomstick couldn’t take it?” you now had tears in your cheeks. Your vision was blured by the tears and, God, you were so tired.

Malfoly’s heart might’ve actually broke in that moment. He was so angry at everyone who didn’t notice you hurting yourself, when he was actually the who drove you into it.

‘‘I am so tired.” you kept talking now, tears rolling down your face. “Why is it never enough? I’m tired. I’m thin, I’m ugly. I’m fat, I’m ugly too, and disggusting. I need a diet. I do a diet. and now fading away? OH well, just let me be happy for once.and I am happy now, ok? I’m finally beautiful.” You were talking so fast and you were feeling so weak. Malfoy saw that, so he immediately hold you in a hug, preventing you from falling. Your head were now in his chest, and you were trying to stop crying, trying to make your heart go back to it’s normal rhythm.

“It’s okay. It’s okay, love.” He said stroking your hair. “I’m sorry” he said almost inaudible.

After a few minutes you heart and breathing were finally stable again. You detached yourself from his harms, although his hands were still in both sides of your arms. You looked up to him with watery eyes. You hated crying in front of people. "I'm sorry" you said.

"It's okay." He said again, looking back at you. Taking his hesitant hand, like he was afraid to actually break you, to clean your cheeks from the tears. "I promise".

"Why are you doing this?" you were really confused. You had never seen Malfoy this gentle and.. scared?

He caressed you cheeks while looking from your eyes to your mouth. He then joined your foreheads and spoke really low, like a whisper. “I need you, Y/N.”

“what?” you said also in a whisper. you couldn't believe what you were hearing.

“I need you, and I need you to get better. This is making me crazy. I’m scared all the time. I’m scared you’re gonna fall off the stairs, or the broom. I’m scared of you getting hurt. Please.. just- just let me help, ok? Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it. Anything.”

“Can you.. uhmm. eat? with me, I mean” you asked detaching your heads to look in his eyes.

“Sure” He said immediately. “Is that all?”

“No.” you let out a breath in relief with his answer and smile a little. “But it may be a start. I think”

“Ok.” He returned your smile. “You should probably talk with someone else, though. Someone who could help more. A professor, maybe. I’ll go with you, if you want me to.”

“Yeah.. ok. Can we go to McGonagall, then? Not now, please. When I’m ready.”

“Of course. Anyone you want, love.” He said looking back at you before you hugging him again. Letting your head rest in his chest while he stroke your hair again. This felt like home to both of you. You were so scared, but he was hopeful. He would do anything for you to feel better.

This whole not eating thing made you so tired, but it was also so addictive. You didn’t know if you could ever get better, but maybe this was a start. Having someone to lean on, someone who cared.. it certainly helped.

[sweetstars-posts]

SKINNY,

M. STURNIOLO x FEM!SINGER!READER

(if you don't want to be a singer, it could be anything in the public eye, it’s only mentioned a little!!)

WARNINGS — mentions of eating disorders, depression, anxiety, ALSO pet names (bc apparently that triggers ppl or smth).

a/n — this is a deep story based on billie eilish’s new song, skinny. as someone who faces troubles with eating, i wanted to make this for me and for those who need it <3

word count — 1.5k

(not proofread)

The rain is hitting the glass of my bay window as you stare helplessly out of it. The window opened a crack; the smell of fresh rain wafting into your room.

Your eyes are dull and lifeless — like you’re waiting for something that won't ever arrive. There's an aching feeling in your stomach, one that isn’t just nerves.

Your body ached as you haven’t moved from the soft plush cushions of the bay window for a couple hours.

Nothing in life felt appealing right now. The constant bodyshamming from the public eye got you back into a seemingly never-ending spiral.

People only seem to like you if you’re skinny. Eating was always a struggle, but now it almost feels like a game. Competing with yourself over and over again for trying to reach a certain weight goal that you won’t realistically achieve.

Everyone keeps saying you’re happier now. But are you? No. Complete sadness overtook you, but it was okay, because now you’re skinny.

But you also felt guilty.

You haven’t spoken to your boyfriend Matt in a couple days. You’ve been dating for 3 years and he knows every single thing about you. You still don’t have the energy to get up and try to find your phone which is nowhere to be found at the moment.

But knowing Matt, he probably knows what’s happening again. This seems to always happen. It’s like a record player that keeps repeating and repeating until the vinyl slowly starts to scratch and warp.

Your eyes falter slightly but they never seem to fully close. It’s like they can’t.

Your mind is racing 20 miles per hour but you can’t seem to comprehend a single word going through your brain.

The phone rings, the sound coming from somewhere in the mess of sheets on your bed.

A little while has passed and your phone still hasn't stopped. The obnoxious ringing made you even more aggravated. Yet somehow you felt stuck, like you couldn’t move to get your phone.

The sound absorbed into a dull hum from all the thoughts racing through your head.

You felt numb and lifeless. Like you were viewing yourself in a VR headset.

Time shaped into nothingness as your bedroom door creaked open. Your boyfriend, Matt’s, head peeks through the door.

His eyes soften as he sees your fragile figure on the soft cushions.

He closes the door behind him as he walks into the room. He makes a mental note to clean your room for you later. As he nears you, he sits on the floor, in front of the bay window.

His soft hands, grab your hands lightly, “I got you, it’s okay,” he finally breaks the silence.

Short jagged breath’s release your mouth, as you finally move your eyes away from outside, to him. He slowly moves to hold your head between his hands.

Tears slowly start to prick your eyes, yet you still don’t look away from him. Tears flow and flow, you have no control. Strangled breaths release, as you struggle to catch air.

“Hey, hey, I got you,” Matt’s fingers brush your tears away, his cold rings sending a series of chills down your spine.

Matt brought you into a warm embrace, lowering you down from on top of the seat, to his lap. He cradled you as if you were a broken fragile doll.

He pressed kisses towards your head, letting you release all those pent up emotions.

Neither of you knew how much time had passed, nor did either of you care.

Your breath’s evened out, and your tears died down. And Matt was still there by your side.

“Do you wanna talk?…” Matt questioned after a while.

“I’m just….tired” Your small tired voice let out.

Matt kissed your nose lightly before slowly standing up, pulling you up with him. He made his way to the bathroom connected to your room.

Upon setting you on the counter, he turns on the bath, letting it run for a little. He got everything ready — your clothes, a brush, and got all the small essentials, as you got in the tub.

He washed your hair, lathering the shampoo lightly. He then grabbed your brush and slowly brushed through the large matted knots.

“How about…after this we go back to mine? We can watch Inside Out because I know how much you love that movie,” His offer makes you smile, “And then we can work our way from there, how does that sound?”

You nod in response, too exhausted to speak.

After finishing up, Matt slowly helped you into one of his large sweaters and some pajama pants. Matt started to grab your phone and small things you would need to stay over (although most of your things are already at the triplets house).

“You ready, baby?” Matt extends his hand out towards you.

You grab his hand with a little small smile. Whatever joy you had in you was put towards Matt right now.

Matt led you to his car, opening the passenger seat. You could tell Chris sat there last. The seat was reclined and the seat was altogether far. You smiled at the way Chris left it.

“This kid doesn’t know how to fix his seat, I swear” Matt complained, as he helped you fix the seat.

Matt soon got into the driver side soon after closing your door.

“Where too?” Matt asked gently.

You looked at him in confusion. Weren’t you going to his house?

“C’mon, baby, we’re going somewhere to eat. Even if it’s something small, just… get something in your system.” Matt rubbed his hand against your knee.

The thought of food makes you want to throw up on the spot. You hated that he knew, but you loved that he cared.

“Nowhere..” You mumble quietly, head against the window.

You didn’t want to make this harder on Matt. But the genuine guilt fills you by just thinking about laying a finger on food.

“Sweetie, you need something.” Matt started the car, but ended up driving towards his house, “When we get home, you can have some toast. Even one slice, okay?”

You silently nod.

Matt pulled into the garage. As you and Matt make it inside, you can already hear Chris and Nick yapping about some movie they are watching in the living room.

As much of a bad mood you could be in, those triplets will always put a smile on your face.

Matt’s hand rests on the lower section of your back, gently guiding you through the basement. The two of you slowly walk up the stairs.

Chris and Nicks heads snapped towards the stairs as they heard footsteps, obviously Matt had told them.

Nick came running up to you guys first. He pulled you into a light hug, holding the back of your head with his hand, rocking you ever so slightly.

He pulled away, his hands resting on your face, “I’m so glad you’re okay, kid.”

Chris pushed Nick out of the way, “HEY! My turn”

Chris pulled you into a bone crushing hug, way more strong than Nicks. You smiled slightly into his shoulder.

“We were all so scared,” Chris whispered quietly.

As you guys pulled away, Matt grabbed your hand again, walking you towards his room, but not before bidding a small bye to Nick and Chris.

Matt closed the door behind him, as you went to sit on your designated side of his bed.

“I’ll be right back okay?” Matt kissed your head gently, before walking out of the door.

Matt had started to make a small piece of toast. Knowing you won't want to eat the other half, he put it on a plate for Chris to eat later.

Matt walked the short trip to his room, pulling the door open.

“Here, love” Matt put the plate on your lap.

You slowly grabbed at the piece of toast. Guilt swarmed you like a bunch of bees. Instead of taking a bite, you just stayed there.

Matt was now seated on his side, “It’s okay, Baby, it’s fine,” He rubbed your arm encouragingly.

Slowly but surely, you ate the piece of toast. Matt put on “Modern Family” while you ate. He never pushed you to eat faster, he was comforting and only wanted you to be comfortable.

“Good job!!” Matt’s large smile was contagious, it made you smile too.

As some time passed, you guys just stayed in each other’s presence. Not many words were said, but it was a comforting silence that everyone needs in their lives.

You and Matt were all cuddled up, your head resting on his chest. His hand rubbing your back gently.

His soft touch and actions, that lured you into a soft slumber.

“Goodnight, my love” Matt kissed the top of your head, himself feeling awfully tired.

At the end of the day, all you needed was a loving soul to guide you through your troubles. And Matt was that person. He was the light in your dark cave.

[dreamscapesofimagination]

I Can't Stop You From Running

Reminder: Chapter 1 of "The Good, The Bad, The Dirty" is out on Wattpad today! It is a detroit:become human fanfiction with Connor x human reader. You don't really need to know the game to check it out, please just give it a chance, DBH is my FAVORITE game of all time and I adore connor! was listening to Save My Soul by Jonah Kagen while writing this! I've been very busy and have also bren struggling mentally. I'm fine, I've had MDD and panic disorder for years and have a great support system, great meds, and have learned to handle them well. Due to the election results and now the inauguration I spiraled a bit and so all my extra energy went into getting myself back on track. Hoping to post more frequently!

Inspired by: the hands that cradled your face and tilted it upwards to kiss your forehead are soaked in unfathomable quantities of blood.

I don't know where the original is from, but it inspired me as I imagine even when displaying softness Alan can't help but think of what he's done.

--------------

You weren't sure why you had done it.

Your finger had clicked the 'call' button before your brain had slowed down enough to process what you were doing.

The images from your dream- your nightmare- rushed through your head, a kicked dog chasing its own tail again. And again. And again.

The ringing only caused your heart to hammer faster, and you quickly hit the end button.

Stupid, of course he wouldn't answer. It was two am, he was sleeping.

Your eyes focused on the shadows dancing through the window. Sleep was far from your mind, closer to an anxiety attack than sweet dreams.

What would they do when you became a Kyklos? Would they imprison you, study you? You figured Yuri would have few qualms about it, your only comfort being that Jiro seemed to like you enough to care.

And how would they react? Would they mourn? Would they move on, chalk you up as another casualty to be recorded as a statistic, lumped in with all the others studied in Anomalous Epidemiology?

A spike of cold fear stabbed through you as your phone rang.

You scrambled, grabbing it and answering.

"Hello?" Breath rushed from your body at the sound of Alan's voice.

"Hi, um. Sorry if I woke you, I just..." you squeezed your eyes shut in embarrassment, "I had a bad dream and uh. I just... needed to hear someone's voice."

A beat of silence had a whole new type of anxiety clawing up your throat. What the fuck were you doing?

"I was up anyway, couldn't sleep..." Alan's voice trailed off for a moment as if he were searching for something to say.

"I'm doing some paperwork. If you want you could come here?" his voice peaked in uncertaintly.

You found yourself nodding, though he couldn't see you.

"Yeah, I think I'd like that."

And so a routine was set. When you had a nightmare, you would call Alan. You discovered he seemed to sleep very little. He was doing paperwork, working out, working on a car, or watching old movies when you called.

He never pressed. Never asked you to tell him what terrors were haunting your sleep. Just quietly accepted your presence, allowed you the space to feel better. Before you knew it, you started falling asleep curled up on an old chair he had in his room.

He never pressed, never touched you. His presence was quiet, reliable- safe.

This night you were sat beside him as some old american movie played on the screen before you.

Tonight it was harder to shake the dread that had woken you.

You could sense the concern from all around you. You could see the paleness to your face, the dark circles beneath your eyes, the bitten cuticles, limp hair. Anyone who saw you would know you hadn't been sleeping much.

You worried the skin of your lower lip, gaze going through the television and beyond.

Alan could tell you were not there beside him.

"I get them too."

His voice was like a lighthouse, leading you safely from the storm of your thoughts, back to the safe harbour that was the space beside him.

You blinked at him, "what?"

He glanced at you before turning his gaze back to the tv.

"Nightmares. Most nights they wake me up. Hard to sleep when I know that I'll have one."

Your eyes dropped to your hands. Silence lapsed.

And then-

"I think I'm seeing what's going to happen to me."

Alan turned his head to watch you carefully.

"What do you mean?"

"I feel myself change in the dreams. I feel the most unimaginable pain, and before I know it I'm no longer in control of myself. It's like-" your voice cracked, tears falling before you had realized they had gathered in your eyes, "-it's like my soul is paralyzed, like my body was hijacked. I see the people I care about staring, screaming. And then I see their corpses. And I know, I know that I did it. I killed them."

Your chest heaved a sob as Alan stared at you.

And then you felt him shift.

He tentatively pulled you toward himself, wrapping you up in his arms, body stiff against you as if he was unsure what he was doing.

You gripped his shirt. allowing yourself to break apart. Weeks of little sleep and intense fear had made you fragile, and here you were, falling to pieces.

Feeling safe to do so because you knew Alan was there, and Alan was good at fixing things. He would piece you together again.

He held you as you cried. He never said it would be okay. He didn't speak.

After that night, much of your time was spent at Vagastrom. Other students noticed that something was different between you and the captain. Whispers sprang up, and try as you might, it was hard to deny that the air between you was different. Despite the way you both spent much of the night together, and how once quiet comraderie had become quiet talks about anything and everything (though you both avoided bringing up your nightmares again)- you would not admit how you felt, too afraid to lose the fragile friendship you had built, to scare Alan away.

You had gotten pretty good at ignoring the way your heart hammered everytime you saw Alan, as if it were trying to break free from your chest and fly to his hands, knowing it would be safe with him. Knowing it was his.

There wasn't enough time for that, anyway. The way things were going, your curse would not be lifted. Getting all of the ghouls to cooperate was akin to herding cats- though even that would be easier given the intelligence of the campus cats.

It was hard to blame them. They each had their own pasts, and had their own ambitions. You found it odd that your fate had been placed in their hands anyway- were the faculty incapable of figuring this out? More and more you expected that saving you was not the goal of Darkwick, as if they had a vested interest in you becoming a Kyklos.

You turned to your side, trying to force the thought from your mind.

Tonight, Alan had to go on a mission. You had been assigned to assist Yuri in an experiment- which had turned into Yuri ordering you and Jiro to collect some specimen from Jabberwock (much to the dismay of Haru, though he seemed a bit happier when Jiro mentioned that they just needed a blood sample, and had no intention of harming the creature). By the end of the day you were tired, irate, and thinking about how much you would like to wring Yuri's neck. You had looked forward to crawling into bed and sleeping, nightmares be damned.

And yet, sleep would not come.

Your fingers twiddled at a loose string on your blanket as you stared into the room, begging your brain to shut down for the night.

Groaning, you sat up, accepting that you were unlikely to sleep for the forseable future. You padded down the stairs, deciding that maybe a cup of tea would help your mind quiet.

Your eyes stared listlessly at the electric kettle as it boiled.

A knock at the door broke your disassociation, a startled yelp leaving your lips before your heart settled.

With quiet steps you krept to the door, opening it and gasping as you took in the ghoul before you.

Alan was disheveled, and covered in blood. Blood that you assumed was not his due to the lack of any major visible wounds.

He stared at you for a moment, jaw working as if he were trying to say something, eyes wide like a frightened animal.

Your hand grasped his, feeling the blood stain as you pulled him inside.

He put up no resistance, seeming to deflate once he crossed the threshold.

Wordlessly, you led him to the bathroom. You unbuttoned his vest, tossing the stained article into the tub before doing the same with his shirt.

You turned the sink on, wetting a cloth once it was warm and beginning to run it over his bloodied knuckles.

All the while, Alan watched. Your only sign that he was coming back to himself was the slowing of his breaths.

And finally, "I don't deserve you."

It was quiet, as if to himself.

You paused, watching him carefully, holding still as if he would dart at any moment, sink into himself and draw away from you.

His eyes finally rose to you, meeting your gaze with his own, empty devastation behind lifeless amber eyes.

"I'm... I'm not good," he choked out, staring at you, unblinking.

"All I can do is hurt," Alan shifted to move away from you, pull his hands away.

You tightened your grip, and the ghoul froze, as if he didn't have the strength to pull away.

Showing you how little he actually wanted to leave.

It was the first time you had seen Alan look so fragile, as if he would crumble at the slightest brush of wind. Fall apart at your voice.

"Alan," your voice was gentle, carefully drawing him back, back to you, away from the doubts that plagued him.

"You are the one who comforted me every night, who never expected me to be okay or to talk about what's going on," your hands moved to cradle his face, thumbs trailing over his cheekbones.

His eyes fluttered closed, savoring your touch.

"I-" before Alan could speak, you brushed your lips against his, effectively stealing his breath as his eyes flew open, staring at you.

And then he surged forward, pressing his lips to yours in a desperate kiss.

You felt dampness on your cheeks. unsure if it was from your tears or his.

There you sat, clinging to one another as if you'd drift apart otherwise, lost in the space of infinite loneliness.

[i-yap]

Disorders batboys s/o have( dick and jason ver)

Im a psychology student and i think everyone in this world has some symptoms if not full blown disorders. I also struggle with GAD and I have worked in 2 psychiatric hospitals so far in one I got a lot of readings+ 2 months , 8hrs on weekdays hospital shifts in 4 sectors. I don't mean to offend anyone but if you have a certain disorder it does determine a lot of your personality traits and therefore make you incompatible with certain types of people. this is just a " oh I think the batboys could take care or be compatible with someone with this disorder enough to not hamper their healing "

Anyways..(im so scared to post this)

Dick grayson- mood disorders (major depressive diroder. bipolar disorder, seasonal depression, burnout)

Dick is this silent mother hen sort of figure. he loves taking care of others, it fills him with altruistic feelings and helps him feel needed. Someone with a mood disorder needs someone they can go and be sad with without feeling judged. Dick understands that burnt out feeling really well. He understands how sometimes you just want to let your feelings go through you. He is warm sunshine personified, joyful calm and reliable. He likes taking care of you, the small quiet moments. He will find small personal ways to make your mood a little more bearable however he can without overwhelming you.

"he comes back from his crime fighting to find you in bed. he recognizes your mood instantly. slowly approaching you and gently kissing you awake .

"hey baby ", "youre back dickie" "mhm how long have you been in bed?" " I don't know" "I'm starting a bath, would you like to join me" "I don't really feel like moving" "ill carry you" ."

Jason todd- anxiety disorders ( generalized anxiety disorder(gad), phobia, panic attacks, separation anxiety disorder(sad))

gad- the fact that jason literally fights crime every night and is super impulsive/doesnt care about his safety, so seeing you almost ripping your head off from worry for him not only warms his heart ( he thinks you hate him and struggles to believe that YOU could give someone like him any attention but here you are) but also makes him take better care of himself for your sake. he hates seeing you worried but he loves calming you down. holding your hands tight, replecating meditation style breathing and mindfulness practices. kissing you overthinking head. hugging you when you stress cry, giving you massages.

Phobia- he understands triggers better than anyone else, he will be your big bad protector making sure to help you avoid the item that's causing you phobia. holding your hand and hiding you behind him if you have social anxiety, making sure to avoid triggering environments if you have agoraphobia, killing all snakes in the world if you have a phobia of them( he seriously suggests it but you stop him cuz it'll hurt the ecosystem)

Panic attacks- he has them too, either you have learned a way to deal with them and teach him or he has learned a way to deal with them and helps you . if he hasn't before meeting you, he has a new much stronger motivation to learn techniques or medication that can help deal with them for your sake and therefore also accelerate his healing

seperation anxiety-.. he has it too so like.( ik its more common in kids but adult sad is also a thing) both of you are clingy, its a win win for you two , fuck the rest of the world

again this is just my opinion okay? don't make mental health a taboo , if this post was about batboys x blind! y/n no one would have an issue. mental health is a condition and sometimes its out of our control, it depends on so many factors. Its nothing to be ashamed or scared of.

[captain-huggy-bear]

Boundaries/Where I stand:

Not directed at anyone in particular this is more of a general warning as this blog gets more popular and people interact more with me. I've had popular blogs in the past and I know people start to want to push those personal boundaries and i've never actually stated them or talked about them on here so I thought it would be a good idea to talk about it as someone with an anxiety disorder:

I like to keep my personal life/myself very private and separate in a lot of ways from tumblr (hence there will never be selfies of me etc.) and for me that often means tumblr friends are just tumblr friends. I'm not going to be comfortable for a long long time with people from tumblr wanting my number or wanting my personal social medias or address or wanting me meet up etc and with my anxiety joking about or asking about those things will 100% freak me out and cause me a lot of discomfort as I then worry about upsetting people if I say no or say please stop.

If we've talked privately a lot I may decide that's something i'm comfortable with I have a tumblr friend from a different blog that after a few years I felt comfortable enough to have as my 'real life' friend and we became pen pals and shared personal socials. But I initiated that, I made the decision to then broach that removal of that boundary and she never tried to push for that relationship.

This doesn't mean you're not important or wonderful, but with my anxiety if you try to push that boundary, even well meaning and from a place of love, whether that's asking for my number or trying to interact with any of my personal social media if you find it, or asking me to meet up or joking about it very directly (a little different if its like 'oh wouldn't it be funny if I happened to bump into you at a game) I will get really anxious and panic and then panic about the fact I don't want to upset you and...it spirals.

I hate upsetting people and I'm not good at those boundaries (massive people pleaser due to my anxiety) but due to the sort of person I am, the time period I grew up in (where all you ever had was internet safety lessons) and my career which requires me to be pretty locked down and private, my tumblr allows me to have a certain level of separation and anonymity. I also really really value that privacy and separation. For me I'm really comfortable with tumblr friends being that, internet friends, when that starts to bleed over or people want it to become something more I get anxious.

I will always enjoy spending time with people on tumblr, responding to messages, goofing off, giggling about hockey boys etc, but I need people to understand that I like those things very separate. Tumblr is tumblr to me. My life outside is private and private for a reason.

It's different if we happen to run into each other in the real world like at a game or out and about as I know some people here support the same EIHL team as me, are somewhat local to me and meeting you in person coincidentally is all good it would feel very natural, but actively pursuing me usually makes me panic and freak out. Think of me as a skittish cat, I have to come to you and request that that boundary be changed/moved or it has to come very naturally. It will likely take a long time (years even) before I'm comfortable with you for that and I need that respected otherwise I won't feel comfortable on this blog/safe on this blog as weird as that might sound to non-anxious extroverts.

If anyone has any questions about this let me know, but I wanted to make sure I was clear on my boundaries with this before the blog gets more popular because I don't want to be mean but I also need to prioritise my safety, mental health and comfort as well.

Reminder I am just an anxious bean who tries her best but she's not always as confident and extroverted as she may appear through a screen💕💕💕💕

[pumpkin-the-girlie-girl-vixen]

Living with Borderline Personality Disorder: My Journey of Self-Discovery

As I sit down to write this blog post, I'm filled with a mix of emotions - anxiety, sadness, but also hope and determination. The last few images I've shared have been centered around Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD), self-awareness, and the importance of understanding and empathy.

For me, this topic is deeply personal. I've been living with BPD for many years, and it's been a journey of ups and downs, twists and turns. There have been times when I've felt like my emotions are spiraling out of control and I'm powerless to stop them.

But there have also been times of great joy, of deep connection and intimacy with others, of feeling like I'm on top of the world. It's a rollercoaster of extreme emotions, and it can be exhausting.

One of the most challenging aspects of living with BPD is the stigma and misunderstanding that surrounds it. People often view BPD as a "crazy" or "unstable" person, someone who is prone to outbursts and mood swings.

But the reality is far more complex. BPD is a serious mental illness that affects millions of people around the world. It's characterized by intense emotional dysregulation, impulsive behavior, and unstable relationships.

For me, living with BPD means constantly struggling to regulate my emotions. It means feeling like I'm walking on eggshells, never knowing when the next emotional storm will hit.

It means struggling to maintain healthy relationships, because my intense emotions and impulsive behavior can be overwhelming for others. It means I’m constantly feeling like I'm a burden to those around me, like I'm too much to handle.

As someone living with BPD, I've encountered my fair share of hurtful comments and misconceptions. But there's one phrase that never fails to cut deep: "Stop using BPD as an excuse."

Those words are like a punch to the gut, leaving me feeling winded and vulnerable. It's as if the person speaking is implying that I'm somehow faking my struggles, that I'm using my diagnosis as a cop-out or a way to avoid taking responsibility for my actions.

But the truth is, living with BPD is not easy. It's really is a constant struggle to regulate my emotions, to manage my relationships, and to navigate the complexities of everyday life. And when I try to explain myself, to help others understand what I'm going through, I'm met with skepticism and dismissal.

It's not just the words themselves that hurt, but the underlying message they convey. It's as if the person speaking is saying, "I don't believe you. I don't think you're really struggling. You're just making excuses."

Those words are damaging because they imply that I'm not worthy of understanding or compassion. They imply that I'm somehow flawed or defective, that I'm not good enough.

But the truth is, I am enough. I am worthy of love, compassion, and understanding, just like anyone else. And when I try to explain myself, I'm not making excuses – I'm trying to connect, to find common ground, and to build bridges of understanding.

So, to those who would say, "Stop using BPD as an excuse," I will say: “Please, try to understand. Try to see things from my perspective, to walk a mile in my shoes. I'm not making excuses – I'm fighting to be heard, to be seen, and to be understood.”

But despite the challenges, I've learned to live with BPD. I've learned to recognize the signs of an impending emotional storm, and to take steps to calm myself down.

I've learned to communicate more effectively with others, to express my needs and feelings in a way that's clear and respectful. I've learned to prioritize self-care, to take care of my physical and emotional needs.

And I've learned to be kind to myself, to practice self-compassion and understanding. I've learned to recognize that I'm not alone, that there are millions of others out there who are struggling with BPD.

As I look back on the images I've shared, I'm reminded of the importance of self-awareness and empathy. It's so easy to get caught up in our own struggles and challenges, to forget that others are struggling too.

But when we take the time to understand and empathize with others, we create a ripple effect of kindness and compassion. We build stronger, more resilient relationships, and we create a more supportive and inclusive community.

So let's keep talking about BPD, about mental health, and about the importance of self-awareness and empathy. Let's keep sharing our stories, our struggles, and our triumphs.

Let's create a world where people feel supported and empowered, rather than stigmatized or ashamed. A world where we can be our authentic selves, without fear of judgment or rejection.

And to those who are living with BPD, I see you. I hear you. And I believe you. You are not alone, and you are not defined by your diagnosis. You are strong, resilient, and worthy of love and compassion. Keep fighting, keep striving, and know that you are enough.

[wawawawawawawawawawawawawa]

the amount of times i Do This must be a joke at this point but here i am. doing it once more. izaya's highschool videogame SCREAMS "i just found out i have aspd and i am NOT taking it well." and i shall explain how

a preface: wrt "how did he know in high school, don't you have to be 18?" you do.... with the dsm guidelines. japan, iirc, uses a conbination of the dsm and icd to diagnose mental illnesses, and the age stipulation isn't in the icd. also, shinra could have told him, and lbr shinra wouldnt care about strictly adhering to the age thing

anyway i went thru and highlighted different parts of the videogame's text, so i can easier explain which part means what. i'll primarily be focusing on the chronic boredom associated with aspd- since izaya's game deals with patience, most musings in it will be related to that boredom. but the boredom, especially izaya's, IS important, as its the boredom that drives him to do what he does. to be what he is.

(shoutout to miyukiwinter for the scan)

so... the red bit. this relates to izaya's worldview of the need to keep evolving to escape the mundane, and it not mattering if you aim high or low. now at this point, izaya was solidly in some shady shit and clearly on the path of the low aim. but the thing is, about aspd... the boredom is all consuming. you'll do ANYTHING to not be bored. i've seen people say they developed substance abuse problems to escape the boredom, and i confess... i've done it too. it truly is THAT bad

i say all this because... izaya will never be able to stop going lower, and lower, and lower. he's fated to fall forever. maybe he wouldve been able to brush his behavior off as teenage craziness, but with a diagnosis like aspd it becomes increadingly obvious that there is no "oh, i'll mellow out once i reach my 20s." it's not going to happen, at least, not without great effort. and lets be real, nobody has any faith in aspd's recovery rates, less so in the early 2010s, so izaya upon diagnosis would see NO FUTURE for himself. no escape from the cycle. he's trapped.

the blue bits are a bit more vauge, but the undertainty turning to loss evokes the next stage after the initial shock of diagnosis: grief. and make no mistake, there IS a grieving process with mental health diagnoses. you go from being shocked and scared, to being depressed and numb.

but there's... another layer to this, with aspd. you see it with cluster b disorders in general, but aspd is HUGE in the pop culture zeitgeist

the layer is, the idea that People Like That don't feel emotions. that any emotional display is false and an explicit ploy to mainpulate someone

and when this inevitably ends up untrue, you might start to feel... odd... about feeling those emotions people say you can't feel. and one of the biggest emotions aspd gets that with, is fear and by extension, anxiety.

some aspd people genuinely do feel reduced fear! but it's far from being a diagnostic criteria, and aspd can actually be comorbid with anxiety disorders. but scientific facts and wider culture rarely match up, so the idea persists

so izaya might have started to think.... was he ever truly anxious? or worried? was he really more rotten than people thought; was he just mainpulating people the whole time? does he really not feel anxiety? was his nervousness over things like shinra leaving him or hell, this diagnosis, rendered null and void?

and then we reach the teal portion.... despair

(just a sidenote, tumblr has no teal color option so it'll just be blue)

in this sense, "the hole" refers to the endless downward spiral, and his diagnosis- but not just having it. no, "the hole" most likely refers to the moment izaya developed it in the first place.

who are you, if you thought you were in control your whole life, but you found out that the reason you do the things you do were because of foeces beyond your control? who are you now, having a label you know will cause everyone to see you as nothing but a stereotype?

why was he still alive, suffering like this? what point is it to be alive, controlled by something you can't fight, forced to make your life worse and worse and worse, until you die young?

so now what? who did this to him?

in the game, the hatred is towards "the player." and honestly this could have multiple different meanings when applied to izaya's own life

does he hate god? was he raised religious, his father being a christian, and was this what made him lose faith? what loving god would condemn someone to suffer like this?

does he hate his parents? after all, it was their genetics that passed this down, their upbringing that nurtured it, their neglect that made him the way he was. is it their fault?

or... does he hate himself, for being the way that he is? for having it in the first place, for not being able to overcome it, for having such a bad reaction to it?

for being too cowardly to kill himself?

which brings us to the final segment. awareness.

he says outright, the game is depicting the player's life. in the game itself, this ties into his mockery of players, but in a meta sense, it could be a hidden admission that it's depicting his life

especially the talk of meaningless games- fooling around with nakura creating small gangs, betting pools, and his eventual adult pastimes of messing with people. is his life enriched? no, it's merely occupied, and he knows it. he might have repressed it as an adult, but here, in high school, at this moment, he knows.

and if he can never truly alleviate his boredom, never truly be fufilled, then he can act like he's in control all he wants, but he's no better than a man falling in a hole.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for asking my mother not to do certain things?

Let me start off by saying i'm homeschooled. I've been homeschooled my entire life. I don't have any friends offline, so I've pretty much come here to ask for outside opinions from my friend groups (online).

Prefer not to state ages, if that's okay. It makes me uncomfortable.

I have ocd, suspected autism, and either auditory processing disorder or misophonia (we're not sure which.) as well as a plethora of other issues. my mother is very aware that i have ocd (she has it herself) and i've mentioned misophonia to her several times. she doesn't know about my other mental issues, as for reasons you're probably going to see here, as i don't feel comfortable or safe telling her. (or, i've tried, and she doesn't listen, or tells me i'm "being dramatic.")

my ocd is quite crippling, to the point i've tried medication, herbal tea (chamomile seems to work a bit!), asking friends for advice, and even asking her for advice. as of the last year, it's had a grip on my life and has been quite a problem for me. i'm unable to do things i want or need to a lot, and especially struggle doing most things, even basic tasks. i'm unable to see a therapist/counsellor or psychologist/psychiatrist for personal/financial reasons.

a lot of my triggers (well, not exactly triggers for the ocd, but they stop me from doing things.) revolve around sound, especially people talking. whistling is a major trigger for my misophonia/apd, as are other high pitched noises.

my mother has a tendency to watch tv a lot, and i often ask her to not do this when i'm trying to do certain things, as it makes my ocd a bit worse, and it's often rather loud. (please note i wear headphones a lot of the time for sensory issues.)

however, when i ask her either to turn it down, pause it temporarily, or ask her to turn it off for a bit, she has a tendency to get mad/upset. to the point of throwing a bit of a fit over it, in a way that to me seems a bit attention seeking (in the bad way). she says things like "fine, whatever." and flaps her arms about dramatically or slaps her legs, or she says "i don't even wanna watch it now, it's ruined."

i'll go ahead and say she's a bit self-centered in a lot of ways. for years she has said i've "targeted" her and "treated her terribly" even though any time i was (to her) doing these things, i was usually defending myself or telling her to do something that she needed to do that had been requested for days/weeks/months/sometimes years. i also have a tendency to ask her what she's doing, either out of genuine curiosity, or because she has done something strange to me that i didn't understand. which she gets mad over.

she also gets mad if i ask if she's coming over here (i have a tendency to walk/pace in certain areas to music, it helps with stress/adhd/also helps me write/act things out. she is very aware of this and this isn't really a problem.) or ask how long she will be over here. she seems to think me asking this is telling her she can't come over, or desperately trying to get her to move. admittedly sometimes i DO want her to move, but 90% of the time i am just asking so i know if i need to move to a different area to walk or just stop temporarily.

sometimes when i am having a particular peak in my ocd/anxiety/whatever else, i ask her not to talk for a moment/few minutes, either so i can do something i need to, or because i'm afraid it will make it worse. she'll either get mad about this, or go on a tangent about "not catering to me" and saying things "the real world doesn't work like this, and nobody cares that you have ocd/issues." she has a tendency to take my issues as a personal attack on her, when in reality i would ask anyone to stop for a moment.

she has a tendency to belittle me in a sense for it. i've tried to explain some of it to her (without revealing details of my trauma she doesn't know about, as most of my ocd is linked to severe ptsd.) and she says it "doesn't make any sense" and i "need to stop" and i "need to just make myself stop." she has ocd, and knows compulsions are not always rational, and yet still says these things.

part of my desire not to go to a therapist is because of her. she claims they will either try to put me away take me to another home/put me in foster care, or drug me up on medication that will make me dull. (the other part is more personal, and unrelated to her, but to my aforementioned trauma.)

one of the things i especially ask her not to do is whistle, or make a few other certain noises (eating loud, using nail files around me, etc) because they are especially triggering to me. she'll either blatantly refuse and say i "don't get to tell her what to do" or i don't "control her" (please note i am just asking, but when i DO specifically tell her to stop, it is because she either already knows this sound is triggering to me, or i've already asked, and i'm losing my patience.) or she'll do it louder/more just to trigger me further (my father also does this. sometimes as a joke which in some ways is worse.) or she'll go on the "not catering + nobody cares" tangent again.

i know my ocd and other issues can be a bit interrupting, but i don't ask huge things of her or anyone else. all i ask is for them to not make certain sounds around me, temporarily ask them to not do something/stop doing something, or ask them to do it a bit quieter for me. please note she has the ability to watch tv/videos on other devices with headphones easily, she just chooses not to. and worse of all, they treat it like it's not interrupting to me, when it affects my everyday life in ways far worse than asking/telling them not to do something.

it makes me feel unwanted and unappreciated, and i'll admit, i've contemplated....not existing, if you will, many times over this issue and others.

i just don't really know if i'm asking too much, or if they're just being shitty. i want outside opinions on this.

so, AITA?

(id put a tl;dr in here, but i don't really know what to put. feel free to do it for me. also, i know this was kinda long, but i needed to put some extra things in, sorry if thats like an inconvenience or anything!)

(adding my sideblog here so i can get notifs, @ocdaitathrowaway)

What are these acronyms?

[pap1llonbleu]

After I made a Mario headcanon (this post), I decided to make a Luigi headcanon!! This one's a bit more specific though and it's also something I vaguely mentioned previously in stories before, but I wanted to go a bit more in depth. So here it is!!

--------

Luigi HC: Luigi has G.A.D. (Generalized Anxiety Disorder).

It's something I headcanoned for a while actually, and it all started from me finding a random Treesicle video talking about this sort of thing that was posted 7 years ago. Ironically, this was the video that even taught me about GAD in the first place, and if I never saw it, I don't think I ever would've known that I myself actually have it (I didn't just get this headcanon because I wanted to put a bit of myself into Luigi's character fyi, but it did help me learn about myself and also helped me to get actually diagnosed, so that's something)

The video I linked talks about this more, but essentially, Luigi has been dealing with anxiety ever since he was born (even if he was unaware of it). Whenever he started crying, it just wouldn't stop until Luigi either 1, got physically moved away from what was upsetting him (for example in Partners in Time where Baby Luigi started crying and Baby Mario literally couldn't make him stop no matter what he did, so he just pushed him out of the room), or 2, Luigi got a comforting hug from his big brother, who would reassure him that things are okay (I don't even need to list examples, y'all have seen the amount of times this man is crying in Mario's arms)

Here's a few symptoms/examples:

Perceiving situations and events as threatening, even when they aren't

An example at the top of my mind is the beginning of Mario & Luigi: Paper Jam, where Luigi's having to go into a room inside Peach's Castle to look for something, with a Toad being there with him to help look. Luigi looks terrified the entire time, and it probably wasn't helping that it was dark when entering the room. But the Toad didn't seem scared at all. It was just Luigi. And nothing was even happening plot wise yet; they were literally just walking into a dark room.

2. Difficulty handling uncertainty / Indecisiveness and fear of making the wrong decision

We've seen Luigi go on adventures on his own before, but a big majority of them have him terrified. Think Mario & Luigi: Superstar Saga. Mario gets sick, so Luigi has to go out on his own to try and find the cure. But as soon as this man walks out of the building, he can't jump, run, nothing. He's absolutely terrified. He doesn't think he can go on this big, "dangerous" journey to get a cure. He literally has to go to a hypnotist of some sort to make himself believe that he's Mario to be able to do this. He feels as though he's not strong enough to do this himself, and that he can't do anything if Mario's not there. Granted, this has gotten better in more recent games, but Luigi still is nervous whenever having to do stuff on his own. I think Brothership is him slowly getting used to doing things himself, which is a good step in the right direction. And it helps that he has Mario supporting him the entire time, too.

3. Difficulty concentrating, or the feeling that your mind "goes blank" / Fatigue

This is mainly in the Mario & Luigi games (especially Brothership for some reason), but whenever there's an important conversation going on, Luigi always somehow manages to fall asleep. For example, in Bowser's Inside Story where he's asleep during an important meeting, or in Brothership where he's asleep standing up while everyone is trying to decide who should be "kidnapped" in order to find out the Extension Corps' plans. For people with GAD, and also speaking from experience, you tend to often feel so much anxiety that it tires you out physically. A lot. And I think that's what Luigi's dealing with in this situations; he's just almost always felt stressed or scared (which who can blame him, the kingdom's been dealing with some sort of situation for years) that it tires him out so much that he can't help but fall asleep because his body is trying to get that energy back.

4. Nervousness or being easily startled / Trembling or feeling twitchy

This man jumps at everything. Even at things that aren't even supposed to be "scary". At the beginning of Luigi's Mansion 3, when walking around his room, whenever Luigi opens a drawer and something pops out, it always makes him jump. This even happens before the hotel gets all spooky. And in a big majority of the Luigi's Mansion games, if Luigi stands still, he's shaking (which, granted, this is a terrifying situation, but still). This happens in other games as well, such as Paper Jam as mentioned earlier.

5. Persistent worrying or anxiety about a number of areas that are out of proportion to the impact of the events / Worrying about catastrophic events

At the beginning of Mario & Luigi: Dream Team, Luigi has a nightmare about pretty much everything going to shambles, with the blimp falling and crashing as well as Antasma attacking everyone (also, little thing I want to mention: It's Luigi's dream, but who's the one fighting Antasma? Mario. This adds to point 2). But then when Luigi wakes up, we see that the blimp is perfectly fine, and it didn't crash. Everyone is safe and sound. But even after the nightmare ends, Luigi is still terrified, as if he still thinks that the nightmare is still happening. He panics to the point where he accidentally trips off the blimp and ends up knocking himself unconscious from hitting his head on the ground. (Also, I don't care what anyone says; I feel like Mario would've definitely stayed by Luigi's side until he woke up)

--------------------------------------

Again, this is just a little headcanon of mine (I say little as if I didn't just write several paragraphs qwq). I'm interested to see what you all think :D