#as someone who has no diagnosis themselves it can be harder for me to write his autistic traits sometimes

[spxnglr]

I need to write more about this both in threads and in general...but Egon's main form of stimming is the gentle tapping of his fingers, either against whatever he's holding in his hands or against his desk/lab counter/whatever hard surface he's working on.

[maxdibert]

Re: the ask about Lily being Snape's "attachment figure" and him confusing that for love. Based on the people you work with experiencing similar... how well can people manage to move beyond that with the correct support/therapy/environment/other interventions, and form healthier relationships and have a better quality of life? Like, best case scenario

I'm imagining Sev leaves Hogwarts and Spinner's End, gets some peace and quiet and maybe some therapy(?) - although Sev doesn't seem the type to me to naturally step away from an unhealthy place or engage with any sort of treatment, at least at first, and in any case the wizarding world has a very "get over it" attitude and like 0 awareness of mental health lol (and his next big problem if he survived ofc would probably be being mobbed by fans and haters alike, and Rita Skeeter turning up in his floorboards to write a colourful biography).

BUT in an ideal world, how (and how well) could he perhaps move on from being overly attached to Lily and her memory, and form new, healthier relationships and prioritise himself?

And only if you care to write about it because i know this has gotten long, but how about on the flip side of if he survived, his purpose fulfilled (Harry lived and is safe; his debt to Lily repaid) - and he received no support or new friends/community, how would he cope? Without that goal/focus? Without the structure of Hogwarts? With the tumult of the end of the war, more attention, but no purpose, and probably no job teaching? I've seen a few fics where he turns to drink but I can't really see it myself, and would love to hear your thoughts!! Love seeing that you've posted ��

It depends on whether it's driven by mere emotional deprivation or part of a clinical diagnosis. For example, having attachment figures is quite common in people with bipolar disorder or borderline personality disorder—most of them experience it regularly. It's also the case for those of us who suffer from anxiety or have an anxious attachment style; we tend to have attachment figures as well, but that’s more of a clinical issue.

From what I've learned and what people who work directly to improve people's daily lives (I'm in the legal field, after all) like psychologists or social caregivers have told me, it all depends on the case, the severity, and the person themselves. Generally, younger people have more success with recovery than those in middle age, which makes sense because the younger you are, the more adaptable you are and the easier it is to develop tools and ways to self-manage. The older you get, the harder it becomes, because these behaviors have been established over many years, and it's quite difficult to change them. But for younger people, especially teenagers and those under 30, the prognosis is generally good, especially if the person is intervened, receives good therapy, and is properly supported. BUT ABOVE ALL ELSE, if that person wants it, because no matter how many resources you give someone, if they don't want to make use of them, there's nothing you can do. One of the first things you learn when you work in social services and community work, lolololololol.

Now, it's a bit like what you said. I can't imagine Severus just leaving Spinner's End like that because, personally, I think he never left because it was a self-imposed prison for him when he wasn't at Hogwarts. His penance as a professor was something Dumbledore had given him, but when he wasn't teaching, he had another penance: going back to that house, which was tied to his childhood and all the bad memories. So, I find it hard to picture him leaving easily... but, well, let's pretend we live in La-La Land. If a 21-year-old Severus hadn't gotten stuck in that spiral of suffering and guilt, selling his soul to Dumbledore after already selling it to Voldemort (those daddy issues, my dear Sev, I love you but it's true), and if he'd managed to find some rehabilitation, I think he'd have had a decent prognosis. Being so young, with good therapists and professionals? Sure. Especially because good therapy also involves learning to relate socially and emotionally in a healthy way, but we’re talking about very modern therapy concepts, not the 80s where they just handed out Prozac and antipsychotics for everything, lololol. I don’t think Severus was a lost cause back then. I think circumstances made him a lost cause. And yes, I believe he could have learned to relate to others (maybe not perfectly because, socially awkward to the max), maybe even have friends, and potentially even a partner. Absolutely. But not in the 80s and not in the wizarding world where mental health issues seem less important than in medieval times.

Regarding the AU where Severus survives, that's something I really like and read a lot of (I even wrote an SSxReader with that premise). I honestly think that if he had survived after completing his mission—settling his debt to Lily by ensuring Harry survived, making sure Voldemort was dead, and achieving his goals—he would have fallen into a severe depression. That’s how I portray him, essentially as someone very depressed who doesn't know what to do with a life he never asked for, because he always thought he’d die in the war or be killed at some point, so he never had a plan for survival. And also someone deeply ashamed for Harry knowing everything about his past (imagine surviving knowing Harry Potter knows EVERYTHING about your past—just thinking about it would blow your mind) and at the same time knowing that to some, he’s a hero, to others, he’s a jerk, and to some, he’s a traitor, but the thing is, he’s never indifferent to anyone, and he just wants to be left alone. Without being a professor because he’s always hated kids, but not really knowing what else to do because, well, that's the only thing he's ever done. In general, he’s someone who doesn’t know what to do with his life because he’s never had one, so he doesn’t know how to handle it. That’s my general vision.

[anarcho-masochist]

Hello! I can answer this (with a mix of academia and personal experience (ASPD diagnosed; psychopathic traits but not dx'd as a psychopath))

This is a really interesting topic because psychopathy diagnosis vs ASPD is a topic that is in much debate currently!

Currently, yes, they are considered two different diagnoses, but how this is treated varies. Some consider psychopathy to be a more severe subtype of ASPD, some consider it to be on a continuum, some consider it to be completely different, and some don't think the differentiation is meaningful at all.

Mostly though, it's a square and rectangle situation, as due the criteria the PCL-R uses, you cannot qualify as having psychopathy if you don't meet the requirements for ASPD.

Also, psychopathy is only diagnosed in a forensic psychology context (at least here in the US), so if someone from the US says they're a diagnosed psychopath but they haven't been convicted of a crime...unlikely to say the least. The PCL-R is really time-consuming and also has a lot of subjective measures, so it isn't used often and when it is, bias can come into play (and does. heavily). Outside of a forensic psychology context, someone (like me ^-^) can be diagnosed with ASPD and then told they also have psychopathic traits, but they can't be actually diagnosed with psychopathy outside of a forensic context. So plenty of people may say they're a psychopath and be correct regardless of dx. A lot of people *reclaim* the term "psychopath" referencing ye old sociopathy/psychopathy days, or due to its use as an insult. So there are a lot of people with just ASPD who call themselves psychopaths (not a bad thing).

And it is at this point in writing where I realize you did NOT mean the nuances of the diagnoses, but rather the differences in experience between people with ASPD and those with psychopathy. I know some good studies on that, which I can add if you're interested, but from personal experience:

Higher callous-unemotional traits than people with just ASPD.

People with ASPD are not always very bold, unlike the stereotype, but psychopaths tend to be.

I feel like people with psychopathy are stereotyped as having way worse issues with boredom / sensation seeking than ASPD, but comparing myself and others with one dx or another... basically the same. It sure is unbearable and truly a predictor of the more impulsive and destructive behaviors... :3

(kind of related to the first point) I find I have a harder time caring about things/people than people with ASPD and no psychopathic traits, who almost seem to have more empathy and morality at times (not sure if this is true generally or just a me thing)

Another personal opinion thing: It's a kind of old study but I agree with Coid & Ullrich (2010), though my opinion may change.

If you want more info feel free to ask, and for additional perspectives, I suspect the un-community or my enemy with benefits @flesh-fly would have fun with this question.

Today I learned that psychopathy and anti social personality disorder are two distinctly separate diagnoses, though I wonder what the nuance is and how people prefer to be referred to considering currently the only research i've specifically read on the subject is on forensic psychology, I'd love to know personal accounts from people with anti-social personality disorder or people diagnosed with psychopathy (if that's possible).

[wordsnstuff]

10 Mistakes to Avoid When Writing About Mental Illness

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Reinforcing Stereotypes

This goes without saying, but neurodivergent people (and characters) each experience and cope with their mental illnesses differently. Schizophrenia is not simply hallucinations. Depression is not simply feeling suicidal. Anxiety is not simply consistent fear or unease. Your character, depending on what causes/triggers their symptoms, will present their mental illnesses differently, both on the inside and outside. A person’s experience of mental illness is affected by their environment, their background, their priorities, their personality, and their other struggles. Reflect this in their story, rather than reading a long list of general symptoms and checking them off in your draft. 

1 Symptom Sally

Mental illness affects every aspect of an individual’s life. It’s more complicated and far-reaching than simply “having a harder time than everyone else”. Depression, for instance, is frequently portrayed with an acute emphasis on the symptoms of fatigue, lack of motivation, and sadness. However, depression has a lot of symptoms that many aren’t aware are connected to the illness, such as executive dysfunction, irritability, and sickness. Even those with a general diagnosis of a mental illness aren’t going to have that diagnosis just because they feel sad a lot of the time. There must be more, and it must be shown.  

Romanticizing Suicide

There’s a delicate balance between depicting the reality and gravity of suicidal thoughts/ideation and making it sound appealing. If you’re reading a story, narrated by a character who has suicidal tendencies, it’s inevitable that their thought process will justify or rationalize those thoughts. Approach this with care, and remember that as a writer, you have influence over your readers (whether intentionally or not), and you should prioritize the responsibility you have to avoid romanticizing suicide over the task of portraying it accurately. Some things simply hurt more than they help. 

Generalizing Experiences

Mental illness is inconsistent. Some people display two or three symptoms that are easily recognized, but some experience symptoms most don’t even associate with those illnesses at all. For example, generalized anxiety disorder can present in individuals with a more physically debilitating set of effects, rather than primarily manifesting in feelings of fear or unease. Yes, anxiety is the state of being anxious, but it can also be sensory overload, executive dysfunction, flu-like illness, and fatigue. Every mental illness is unique to the individual who struggles with it, so be aware that your characters should be representing that reality as well. 

Ignoring Coping Mechanisms

Most people who have a mental illness that has progressed to the point of seeking a diagnosis and perhaps treatment have established various levels of coping mechanisms. These can be things like substance abuse or self harm, but they can also be more subtle, like hyper-fixation on media they like or excessive reliance on friends or family. If you’re going to write a character with a mental illness, you should know what they have to do to get through the day. What exercises have they adopted to adapt to their situation? What effect have these mechanisms had on their lifestyle and relationships?

Illnesses Having No Effect On Relationships

Mental illness, especially after having struggled with them for a long period, affects who we are, how we behave and interact, and changes our priorities and thought process. It’s inevitable that it will impact our relationships with other people. In order to accurately depict this experience, you have to also know the characters on the other side, who are maintaining a relationship with your neurodivergent character. What are their thoughts on mental health? How well do they understand what your character is experiencing? Are they more likely to want to be there for or distance themselves from the character because of their mental illness? Strain on relationships can be a very distinct part of a neurodivergent person’s experience with mental illness, and it’s important to represent that. The stigma is still very real and shows up regularly, even in little ways, and in a more accommodating world.

Extreme Cases Only

Some people experience mental illness on a chronic level, others do not. There’s Seasonal Affective Disorder, which tends to only present symptoms in certain periods of the year for various reasons, for example. It could be classified as a “less severe” form of depression, and it’s very common. Not all depression is the same, and it doesn’t always result in severe cases of suicidal ideation or self harm. If you only depict characters in the most extreme cases, who experience their symptoms at the highest level at all times, you may be reinforcing stereotypes about neurodivergence that have taken decades to dismantle. Not everyone with mental illness has an extreme case, and pretending they do can reinforce the idea that all neurodivergent people are “crazy”. 

Good Days vs. Bad Days

Neurodivergent individuals usually experience their symptoms on a wide spectrum of severity. There are good and bad days, and everything in between. Sure, some days, one may experience virtually no symptoms and be very happy and productive, and be totally unable to maintain their composure on others. However, the majority of the time is occupied by a middle ground. Days where a person isn’t constantly on the verge of a panic attack, but they struggle to accomplish their typical agenda, and they feel a variety of symptoms at noticeable, but more manageable level. Symptoms can also intensify steadily and endure for variable periods of time. 

Curing Mental Illness With Romance

Let me say this clearly, and insist you don’t argue: mental illness cannot be cured by a relationship. I admit that new relationships or positive attention can offset symptoms, but if a character’s mental illness (such as depression or anxiety) miraculously resolves because a new partner comes into their life, they either weren’t mentally ill in the first place, or you have misunderstood mental illness. There can be months or even years where someone can go without experiencing their symptoms at a noticeable level, but they will always be neurodivergent, and a new partner isn’t going to change that. That portrayal minimizes the experience of mental illness and trivializes symptoms people suffer with every single day. Do not do this. Please. Just don’t. You can say your character has prolonged period of sadness, but you cannot slap the word “depression” on them, then have all their symptoms disappear because they’ve got a hot date.

Not Every Illness Is Caused By Trauma

This is simply a point of knowledge more writers should have a grasp of. Mental illness can be caused by genetics, chemical imbalances, deficiencies, severe and prolonged stress, longterm health conditions, social isolation or loneliness, etc. It’s natural that in a fictional story where mental illness may be an important aspect, that trauma is one of the more sensational causes to apply to your character, but if you have a cast with diverse experiences of neurodivergence, it’s unlikely that all of them will have a basis in trauma. Neurodivergence is not a one-size-fits-all. 

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[scripttorture]

Do you have advice on portraying mental disorders to the public in a way that makes sense? How does one portray multiple disorders at once while making it clear they’re the result of torture? Do you usually name them in the story? I can portray disorders + symptoms that come with mental health problems resulting from torture, but I feel like I’m battling public ignorance before even getting to debunking myths about torture. I have the information, but I don’t know how to portray it organically.

I can tell you what I do, but I think that whether that will work for you or not partly depends on how you approach writing.

 If what I say doesn’t fit with your writing style that isn’t a failing and it doesn’t mean you’re ‘doing it wrong’. I don’t think there is one sure fire way to write a complex topic well. And honestly the fact that you’re putting in the time to research and practice is probably more important then any advice I have to give.

 I don’t always name mental health problems in my stories. I appreciate that some people think you always should. Usually because they say if you name a disorder the readers can’t deny it or pretend it’s something else.

 I have a friend in one of my writing groups. He’s writing a wonderful adventure story with a Deaf protagonist. He repeatedly describes the character as Deaf and all of her communication is in sign language.

 He has still had feedback from people six chapters into the story saying they did not realise the character was Deaf.

 Here’s my take away from this: While it is important to try your best with anything you portray it is also important to accept that some people just Will Not Get It despite your best efforts.

 Shout out to the person who thought I was discussing trans people when I spoke about historical pre-pubertal eunuchs.

 Start by thinking about who you’re writing for. What does your ideal reader look like? Whose feedback do you hope for?

 Because I think there’s a big difference in how we approach the story/conversation when we’re expecting to talk to people with experience vs people without.

 Most of the time I’m writing for trauma survivors. I hope I’m writing stories that other people will enjoy. But I accept in the writing that a lot of people without experience of these things might not… quite connect the dots.

 It sounds like you want to write for people who aren’t survivors. To educate. That is just as valid and valuable. It’s a very different approach though.

 When I think about naming a mental health problem I think about how that name fits into the story. The main character in my current story is about 11-13. She’s spent a fair amount of time with two adult survivors. But I’m not sure if she has the knowledge or vocabulary to label what she’s seeing and I’m not sure if anyone else would say it to her.

 So I put those mental health problems in to the way these characters behave and the way their daughter talks to her friend about her parents.

 That approach may not work if the majority of your intended audience have no knowledge about mental health.

 And for me in this story that’s part of the point. I expect that a lot of readers will be taken aback when they find out what these characters have lived through and realise that what they’ve seen up to now are symptoms not ‘quirky character flaws’. I expect that to prompt some thought and questioning*.

 Linking these illnesses to torture was easy in this particular set of stories because the readers will (eventually) see the characters before and after torture. The change happens in front of them.

 Generally I think that’s a good way of establishing the link: explicitly showing the character before and after trauma and highlighting the changes. That can be directly as part of the story, but it can also be done through other characters talking about the past (which can help establish relationships and characters) and by having the survivors themselves reminisce about ‘before’.

 It’s also important to remember that you can show symptoms developing without showing torture itself. There’s nothing wrong with choosing to show quiet moments with the character in a cell, even if we’re told they’re cliché. Use every moment that you can make powerful.

 There’s also nothing wrong with jumping around in the time line and telling a story in a non-linear fashion. My general point here is that there are a lot of ways you can bring up the character’s past and how they’ve changed.

 You can also have a character explicitly state that these symptoms are expected, normal responses to a horrendous situation. Any characters who are doctors, mental health professionals or some types of social workers would be good fits for that. Depending on how you structure the story religious figures (who may be involved in anti-torture work or helping survivors) could work.

 If there are other survivor characters then having a discussion between them about what it changed could be a good organic way to bring that up while bringing the characters closer together.

 Circling back to writing mental health problems- I do think sometimes a lack of an explicit label can help communicate the experience. I think sometimes people get so caught up on the diagnosis and what they think it means that they don’t engage with anything that goes against that preconceived notion. But… whenever you don’t make something explicit in the text you’re leaving it up to the reader to decide how to interpret it. You’re taking a risk to trust this stranger who picked up your story.

 I get the feeling the main thing here is writing it all organically and the fear of messing up.

 That’s understandable. Any writing already asks that we juggle. Adding in torture and mental health problems and committing to doing them well adds a lot more implements into the air.

 And I guarantee that practice will help. It always does.

 Personally I’ve been writing mental health problems for so long that a lot of it has become instinctual. It’s an ingrained part of how I write (for better or worse). Making symptoms an organic part of the character is about making them a part of every aspect of a character’s life.

 Which sounds harder then it is. It’s about thinking things through and filtering them through the character’s personality/motivations.

 Because as much as we can hope to get a message across primarily we are telling stories. And everything needs to serve that.

 Let’s have some examples. I’m going to use two characters from two different stories, Kibwe and Ilāra. Kibwe made a full physical recover from torture. Ilāra ended up with a single below knee amputation. And while there is some overlap in the symptoms I chose for them they’re very different people.

 Kibwe’s long term symptoms are memory loss, intrusive memories, hypervigilance and chronic pain and I’m toying with the idea of adding in inaccurate memories as well.

 His memory problems are an integral part of his character arc and motivation through the stories he’s in. Despite knowing intellectually that they are a normal response to trauma Kibwe sees them as a personal failing. They made it impossible for him to bring charges and that fed into feelings of guilt and self-blame.

 Which is what drives him to stand up for other people.

 Every heroic action he takes in the story, every time he puts himself between someone else and harm, is coming out of his own experience of memory loss and possibly inaccurate memories. It’s all because trying to do the sensible thing and report what happened to the police left him feeling useless, powerless.

 His intrusive memories feed into this as well. They serve as constant reminders that strengthen his resolve.

 In the parts of the story from his perspective all of these memory problems and the effect they have are obvious and there inclusion is natural. Because they colour every single thing he does.

 In the parts of the story that are from other perspectives it’s less obvious what the problem is but there is still clearly A Problem.

 His intrusive memories are pauses in the middle of doing or saying something. They’re the moments when he screws his eyes shut and breathes deep and has to ask the other characters to repeat themselves. They’re the way he flinches at ordinary things and the way he flies off the handle anytime someone brings beer into his workplace.

 His chronic pain is in the days when he can’t do his job. When his hands shake and he snaps. When he takes his frustrations out with the wrong words to the wrong people. And in the distant, awkward way he tries to make amends afterwards.

 Internally he barely acknowledges his hypervigilance. But externally he always positions himself so that he can clearly see anyone else in the room. He can always see the exits. He twitches, he turns his head a lot to keep other people in view. And if he can’t see everyone, can’t see a way out then his speech starts to get biting, his anger leaks through.

 In contrast Ilāra is very very aware of their own hypervigilance.

 They track the people around them and the terrain and rationalise it as sensible. As a precaution. As keeping themselves and others safe. So a portion of any part of the narrative from their perspective is about that: Ilāra's internal paranoid risk assessments.

 They also have learning difficulties, which are more obvious from outside perspectives. Because Ilāra has a proud streak; they’re not stupid, they can get by just fine. They’re just letting their friends/found-family help out because it makes them happy. Ilāra does not actually need help.

 Contrast with the perspectives of the other characters who are very aware that Ilāra can’t manage a budget. Without help they really can’t manage their own money well enough to keep themselves fed, housed and clothed. Because they never learnt how.

 And again this comes up organically because it’s a big part of Ilāra's relationships. There’s a strange push-pull: Ilāra's hypervigilance internally rationalised as protecting these few valued people and those same people stepping in to do the things Ilāra can’t.

 They also experience chronic pain. Though I’m unsure whether this is primarily because of torture or because they lost a limb. And in a way the distinction doesn’t matter. Regardless of the cause it is there.

 They’re actually a lot better at dealing with it then Kibwe, because they’re much better at lying, acting and disguising their own distress.

 Ilāra's other symptoms are less immediately obvious in the narrative but again, they underpin everything.

 Ilāra struggles to relate to people, to really value them as people and they are incredibly socially isolated. Their entire social circle is essentially their family and their work colleagues and there is a lot of overlap in that Venn diagram.

 They don’t know how to honestly relate to other people. They play parts, putting on masks to get by.

 And this comes into the story with every interaction they have. It’s the contrast between their attempts at calculation around outsiders (and how often they’re rejected/dismissed) and their incredibly intense attachment to this small circle of people.

 I’m not sure what the end point of Ilāra's character arc is yet. But one of the things that keeps coming up is the question of who they are away from this small circle of valued people. And whether they can value their own life when they can’t ‘protect’ the people they love.

 Writing all of this out has made me realise something: it’s a lot easier to bring up symptoms organically when those symptoms become an intrinsic part of the character.

 And that can be difficult to grasp at the first attempt. Or the tenth. Or the hundredth.

 We are taught to assume health, be it mental or physical. That people have two legs and functional pancreases and don’t relive violent attacks every time they smell beer.

 Part of writing these things organically (for me anyway) is breaking that internal image. It’s… building a mind that’s a different shape.

 For both of these characters their symptoms are tied to important parts of the long term plot as well as their everyday experience.

 Kibwe would be a different person without his memory problems. They inform what he values, how he acts and the ethical lines he draws for himself. His intrusive memories impact his daily life and so does his chronic pain and hypervigilance. And this in turn impacts his relationships with the other characters, some of whom are more forgiving/understanding of his ‘moods’ then others.

 Ilāra is driven by their isolation and struggle to connect to others. It leads to them putting incredible weight and value on the few relationships they do have. And that drives them to act, to take risks. Fundamentally they fear loss and however calculating and cunning they can be that fear makes them do some idiotic things. Things that effect the plot and every other character.

 Hypervigilance and learning difficulties are their everyday experience. The tension they feel in crowds. The way they assess unfamiliar environments. The way they’ll hand over their pay check to a daughter-figure with a joke and tell themselves that she’s just fussing. The way they’ll get up in the middle of the night and count every item of food in the house.

 Writing mental health problems in an understandable way is like writing any other disability. It’s making it part of the character without it being the whole of the character. It’s recognising how any condition limits a character and having a clear view of when those limits are internal (ie the condition itself) versus external (societal, behavioural expectations, other people etc.)

 Including these things naturally means constructing scenes that are working at multiple levels. If symptoms impact how the characters relate to each other then they fit naturally into any important relationship moments. If symptoms impact the character’s everyday life then it’s natural for the character to consider them before taking an important action.

 When symptoms are related to a character’s long term motivation then it doesn’t feel jarring that they’d come up over and over again. In the same way that bringing up a character’s big-brother figure feels right when you’ve established they have an important, character defining bond.

 It takes practice. Writing is work and it takes a lot of skill to make it look effortless.

 Right now I think the most important thing to take away is this: keep trying. Write and write and write. Don’t let the fear of getting things wrong stop you from getting better.

 I hope that helps. :)

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[wherethefuckisthatjigsawpiece]

so if you are reading this then i am dead.

Yeah. So. I maybe died. I know on tumblr the famous “if you’re reading this I’m dead” story is from that poor transgender kid who committed suicide. I can confirm that this is not a suicide note. But if you are reading this I am likely dead. So. I suppose this will be equally pleasant to read. 

So... long story short, I got cancer. I got cancer at 23. I got diagnosed with a stage four cancer which did not present any symptoms and which the doctors did not find in time enough to stop it. Being a paranoid health nut did nothing, it turns out. While I hope my death will not be painful I can at least tell you that my “treatment” so far has not been. The NHS is great, they provide so much care and support for me, it’s like having a legal drug dealer lol. The compassion of the nurses who are so overworked and underfunded is inspiring and I hope that Britain protects its health care system to its dying breath. It’s not great, obviously, dying, but I’ve spent the last year just visiting my friends, playing all those video games I never had time for because of work, and spending time with my family. It’s been really nice. Like being on holiday almost. Also because I didn’t go through chemo I’ve still got my ultra great head of hair. It’s actually really important to me that you, random person reading this, know that my hair was fucking sweet. Naturally thick and curly. I didn’t know that other people had to curl their hair, that’s how privileged I was. Know that I’m entirely unapologetic about bragging about this. I also had a cracking set of boobs. The gods would weep.

My point is that while this “journey” has obviously been quite dark and sad and I know that darker and sadder times are ahead of me... I’ve done okay. I’ve enjoyed myself. I listened to the rain and found all the damn Zelda shrines and I spent time with people who love me. I’ve given myself nice things and had a nice time with others. But it’s hard to figure out how to tell people that you’re dying. I don’t look sick so I have the added pleasure of having to tell a friend that I’m dead when I look perfectly fine. It’s harder still to account for places like this. Places where people know you solely online. I wonder if someone reading this thinks that I am joking. Kinda hard to verify to be fair. But this account will go silent at some point so this is a good-bye regardless of whether or not you believe me. (Regardless! The title of that fic I never finished! Maybe I should have. That was a fun thing to write.) 

There’s that tumblr comic about ghosts on the internet, a person reflecting on how a dead person’s internet accounts do not get deleted and stay hanging there quietly. I don’t think I will delete this account. I might perhaps give the login to someone else so it can be deleted a little later on but I don't know for sure. But I want to offer some closure about where I have gone, even if its just to one person. So if you’re reading this, I’m dead. Or I’m likely close to death. I will schedule this for a few months from now, and if I reach that point and I still feel okay, I will push it back a few more months. I hope I will get to do this at least once. And you might be wondering, person online, why I did not tell you this while I was still breathing. Maybe you would have had something to say. Hell, maybe I’ll change my mind and I’ll share the secret. But if I don't, know that I am not suffering and that I am not struggling for avenues to express myself. I just didn’t know how to do it is all. I’m sorry to leave you with feelings that may be hard to work through. I am sorry. I do not want to leave. But I am. And I’m protective over the time I have while I am not dying. I’ve used tumblr less since my diagnosis but I like my casual scroll-throughs on a morning. People make a lot of fun content. It’s nice to see. I got tumblr mostly for my hockey fandom (Stars represent!) and I’m happy to say that my interactions on here have nearly almost always been positive, I’ve made some great friendships. Many of them have been fleeting but beautiful in that regard. Like maybe there’s that one person on the bus who you’ve never spoken to but you always smile at and when something weird happens, you share a quiet look over your newspapers. I like things like that. And there’s a lot of that on tumblr. 

Funnily enough, when you find out that you’re dying, you just want to be nice. Not in a “oh shit I need to cram for heaven” kinda way, but it’s like. If I told you that your meeting with a friend was going to be your last one and that you’d never see them again, you’d tell them that you loved them. When the clock is ticking, you just want to put good things out into the world. So person online, know that I want you to be okay. I want you to feel unapologetic about telling a creep to fuck off. I want you to know that you deserve kindness and good things without any guilt. I don’t want you to have to spend your whole damn life working. I want you to be able to eat bread and butter slowly and enjoy the peace that you have. I hope that you always find the good fics. I hope that you don’t feel embarrassed about your face without make up because its just your face and even if it takes you a super long time I hope that you’ll learn that it doesn’t look bad. I want you to know that your own company is not a punishment and that its far better to be alone than to be with someone who doesn’t treat you right. I want you to buy yourself something nice this week, if you can. It doesn’t have to be a big thing. (Selfishly, if this is you, I want you to get over your obsession with calling dogs and puppies “doggos and puppers” because that’s fucking annoying as shit. But then again, it’s perfectly harmless and I’m dead after all, so do what you like.)

My point is that I have a met a lot of cool people through tumblr, fellow hockey fans, fellow readers and writers, and as such my feelings on this site are substantial enough that I feel like my time here warrants a final bow. Or a final shrug of my shoulders as I quietly depart, perhaps only noticed by a handful of people. Which is fine. I’ve realised that most exits in life are only observed by a few people. I’m sad to go. I can’t pretend to be at peace with this. But I had fun. And a lot of you helped with that. So thank you. I hope that you’re okay. 

xxxxx

_

If you are reading this and you are a complete stranger who found themselves at my page through a gifset or otherwise, then hello. I know realistically that a lot of the content on the internet was made by people who are no longer around but it’s weird to confront it in reality. I hope you’re doing well. 

If you are reading this and you think that you might know me in real life, please do not go through my tumblr and do not share your suspicion with others. While my many posts in which I call Tyler Seguin a slut and do various other cringey things are... there, I quite enjoyed the privacy I had here. I did not tell people about my tumblr account for a reason. Please respect my privacy. Consider it my dying wish. 

[painted-crow]

Submission time #3

The one who asked about Slytherin primary.

Thank you for answering my submision. 

Yes, the question about what’s up with that trust thing is a good one. I’ll have to think about it. 

As a person who either has or models some kind of fluid secondary for social situations and survival around people, I know that people can do and say stuff they don’t mean, just for that specific moment, just then and there. We all listen to our friends, to our family members, we might not always mean it, but we’ll still play along.

You wouldn't play along with someone you don't care about, though.

That’s what human relationships calls for, at least that’s what I think. (There’s a good chance I’m not a Gryffindor secondary). That’s what I’ve seen even in my friends.

But I also believe that we operate on some kind of principles. We may not really care deeply about something our friend is talking about, but we’ll be there and listen and try to be honest and say what we think if asked, because we care about them. The same way we can sit at the same table, write our essays, share thoughts and care about each other, but after an hour that will be gone, because now we operate on a different principle or thought. But then if your relationship becomes a value, a force on itself, a ‘principle’, that feels safe.

I think, personally, there’s a principle that you don’t talk bad stuff about your friends behind their backs with acquaintances, because if you do, what made you do it? If a friend does it, even if they say sorry, you can’t trust them anymore. You may love them very much, you may come to their parties and be so glad that they’re doing so good, but you know that the trust is broken. It’s hard to get, but has to be sacred. That means I can’t drop my performances with you anymore, I can’t be real and completely raw with them anymore.

Probably that’s why I emphasize trust that much. It means I’ll give you VIP access to my life, my thoughts, myself.

It sounds like what you're saying is, a relationship doesn't feel safe until caring about each other is the rule rather than the exception. You don't fully trust until that's established. It also seems like the relationship doesn't feel "real" to you until that happens.

This seems very Slytherin to me, but for most Slytherins, their inner circle people aren't the only people they'll let themselves believe might care about them. It seems like you're operating like that, though, and you don't have anyone in your inner circle right now, maybe because you're having a hard time trusting people in general. This is kinda textbook burned Slytherin.

Other primaries don't usually have this kind of dichotomy. They have relationships, and some are closer than others, but there's not so much a threshold like "okay, now we belong to each other and I can trust you completely." They may have relationships that are that close, but they wouldn't be able to draw a line showing when it got there.

Using different masks also costs energy, so probably I’m only modeling Slytherin secondary.

Probably a model, but also... doing stuff generally costs energy.

This is so slippery, like I’m trying to balance on some kind of invisible line in order to not be seen as a bad person, and I know I can do it easily and quickly.

Sheesh, you don't even trust yourself. Your brain is a hostile environment.

I managed to minimize my primary sorting to either Gryffindor or Slytherin. Both burned. Your insights on Ravenclaw primary really helped. You guys are really beautiful, and it sounds like your systems are neat and constantly updated, I’d wish I’d do that too, but I don’t have a preference for this kind of method, sadly.

¯\_(ツ)_/¯ it's not for everybody. Glad the post helped though ^^

You know what’s funny? I can’t think of anything that could have been that traumatic or dramatic to have such an impact on me. Most people go through more than I did my whole life, I’d say I’m the one to blame most of the time for my mishaps. 

So, I have a question... are you autistic? (Or have ADHD? That's a similar experience.) Because if you know the answer is yes, then like... duh. That's going to have an impact.

Otherwise--and I need you to understand, this is coming from a neurotypical-passing autistic girl who's never been formally diagnosed--there's a possibility you're autistic and don't know, and that sucks. A lot of autis who were quiet kids or adapted good social skills get overlooked for diagnosis, but we still go our whole lives being subtly (and not-so-subtly) told there's something wrong with us, until we internalize it, because we don't know any other explanation for why we can't just be like everybody else.

We find ways to act that are "safe" and won't be rejected so quickly. We can have a hard time making friends, partly because it takes so much energy to be around people when we're hyper-aware of how we look to the people around us, constantly monitoring to make sure we don't misstep and accidentally offend people. We ignore our needs in order to fit in with society, and we blame ourselves for having those needs in the first place. We call ourselves lazy or weak or hypersensitive, and we push ourselves to burnout in the name of "just trying harder."

It's exhausting.

If you relate to this? That's a traumatizing experience, and don't let your brain tell you otherwise. Being autistic or having ADHD, in our current society, is incredibly difficult even if no one realizes you aren't neurotypical. (It's easier if you know what's going on, though. Also, you start to find other autis, who are cool people and have A+ taste in memes.)

Or maybe none of this applies to you. It's just some of the stuff you've said, like about having to "survive" social encounters, or being worried about people seeing you as a bad person, or blaming yourself for "mishaps." Some of it reminds me of friends of mine who have c-ptsd. It's enough that I feel like I should ask if you've looked into this.

*sheepishly climbs down from soapbox*

I wanted to say that I collected judgment about the world more than on that situation. Strangely I can relate to some things from the other persons’ submission. I do absorb others opinions, ‘energy’, and it fades away with time after not being around. It costs me energy and effort to hold onto a belief, unless I really feel it, or it stuck, like they said. I have to constantly remind myself ‘this is good, this is right’.

And even then, like for my degree, the thought that I will be able to help people can’t comfort me the same way as the thought that I’m doing this for my family, that they won’t need to worry about my future anymore. It gets better if I can do stuff, that’s why I like to throw myself in situations. Then, in little things, it’s easier to say that this or that feels better in this situation.

My values don't weight the same, some of them are mine, mostly related to the fact that someone hurts someone, something. Others are what I know is right, but I don’t feel it, I collected those, and sometimes I feel like I’m hiding behind them, behind those words. If I’d be a Ravenclaw primary, this wouldn’t be an issue, right?

Starting to think you model burned Gryffindor primary.

Like the other person said here, I don’t have a defined sense of self, but I think this relates more to a secondary than a primary. I used to really overthink this question, but then one day I thought ‘I am me, every day this is me, I’m more my actions and the principles I can find under it then some thought that can easily be proven wrong. I am not the same person I was yesterday but kind of the same in some sense, but it’s logical to me if I base these things on my actions, and those depends on the situation.

So, Gryffindors also construct themselves, in a way. It's much more organic and subconscious than a Ravenclaw system. They don't *have* a system, who they are is the system. They construct themselves out of experiences and actions and decisions and it all comes together into a person with an intuitive understanding of right and wrong.

I get why this looks like it might be a secondary thing, but it's not really about methods--this is how Gryffindors grow into themselves and their beliefs. They're not making up their ideals out of thin air, they do come from somewhere.

I think you might model burned Gryff.

Sounds like Slytherin secondary, but I’d say it’s still always me, I’m still somehow honest, raw, just choosing which face of me to show, but then I don’t work on things, although I like honesty and to invest in relationships, so maybe still a Hufflepuff secondary.

Puff secondaries don't have to be dedicated to everything. If relationships are where you invest, then that's where you invest.

But the bra thing, oh god it does sometimes feel like this. That’s why I like to stay at home most of my free time. By not having to react and act and do and speak I’m most of the time my true self.

Right? Guards down, nobody expects anything of you, you can just chill. Alone time is the best.

Nah, I’m strange, but it’s fine :D

Just as long as you know you're the cool kind of strange ^^

I can’t say I don’t have connections and relationships. I have my family, a couple of friends. Maybe I feel this way because at this point in my life, in this situation, my studies, they aren’t here, not in the same spot as I am. They can’t objectively stand here with me and understand how I feel. Yes, I still feel like it would be fine if I’d only wouldn’t be alone in this situation. I always feel better, stronger, fuller when I find a friend in new places, situations, schools. I’m a loner who wants connection, laughter, shared views and excitement that only a relationship can bring in my life.

Hiss hiss lol.

It looks like now I did not spoke so much about what maybe makes me a Slytherin. Maybe I’m just craving a relationship that would match my situation, that would make me grounded in it, because relationships with my family and friends doesn’t provide me with this. Maybe I’m not one, but Slytherin primary is the one I can understand, and get behind mostly. Gryffindor primary would be... A strange fit. I can understand it but I can’t get behind it, most of the time. It’s like someone saying that they think I’m beautiful. It would leave me blinking for a second and not really understanding are they for real or do they want something from me.

Do you think Slytherin would still be a good fit here?

Yep. Burned Slytherin modeling burned Gryffindor, I think.

P. S. Thank you for your advice, I’m definitely trying to get my own mind untangled.

Sure thing! Hope this helps ^^

[diveronarpg]

Congratulations, EMMA K! You’ve been accepted for the role of HERMIONE. Admin Rogue: There’s something about the warmth of your writing that gets me every time, Emma K. The quiet ache I felt throughout reading your portrayal of Harriet hurt my heart, but it was her strength that caught me, and how she uses it so differently from what someone in Verona might expect. She’s private without being closed off, warm without being weak, and there’s a spark she hides so carefully, tending it within her until she can cultivate something out of it. What I loved most of all were your headcanons; her interests, her goals, her dreams, they all felt so lived in to me. You’ve managed to take someone with no power and show us how she would build it for herself, and Harriet’s journey will be so beautiful to witness, I absolutely cannot wait! Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB. 

OUT OF CHARACTER

Alias | Emma Kate

Age | 24

Preferred Pronouns | she/her

Activity Level | I am normally online every second day to get replies out but constantly work to do better at it! I’m normally on discord every day for plotting and discussion.

Timezone | GMT +1

How did you find the rp?  | I was recommended the RP from a friend who was a member at the time!

Current/Past RP Accounts | gertrudezhang.tumblr.com

IN CHARACTER

Character | Harriet “Hermione” D’Angelo

Harriet - “keeper of the hearth”

Mother. How ironic that her name reminds her about what could have been, the beautiful fleeting moment that was taken away as quickly as it was given to her.

Hermione - “messenger”

Potential. The name that had been given to her by the Witches, like a gift. It was another reminder, though this time from the ones who came before; a reminder of what she could be.

D’Angelo - “of the angels”

Angelic. That was often the word that came to mind when people spoke about Harriet D’Angelo, not only in the physical sense but in her attitude as well.

What drew you to this character? | Harriet offers a unique perspective when juxtaposed with other characters, someone who has been directly affected (in a really, really, brutal sense) by the mafia without having warranted it. Most who are punished by la famiglia deserved it, in one way or another, but her son had been in the wrong place at the wrong time and she had suffered as a result.

In spite of that, she seems to have found peace in the fact that she has picked herself up - not once but twice - and is something that she won’t let anyone take away from her. In Verona that small modicum of calmness must be protected but, like a fire in a rain shower, that will take effort and I adore that she is willing to give that effort!

It was the last couple of lines in her bio that made me fall in love with her, when, honestly, I had almost disregarded her; “Harriet has no cards of her own - and perhaps that is why Mona’s let her in as much as she has.” That’s the true beauty of her, making her special and memorable to boot, a woman with nothing left to lose and no front to hide behind.

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character? |

i. SAY MY NAME

Harriet has heard stories about them, how the people fear them. Odin Bello and Matthias Warren. They knew their faces, she just had their names. Names that lingered in her mind like an image from an old dream, yet, were it a dream she could escape them. Far harder a feat when they were living, breathing, people that walked among those who she often wouldn’t give a second glance to. The men are a band-aid slapped haphazardly over the wound of her son’s death, confronting them (and ripping that off) is inevitable, but she forgot the scab beneath is barely healed.

(Harriet does not intend to murder either man for what happened to her son, as made apparent in her bio, but she is not shy to make her feelings known. I feel their response could influence her current view on the mafia as a whole which I find particularly interesting considering one is Montague and one is Capulet, but the confrontation is something she needs for closure.)

ii. IN THE SHADOWS

Enviable, people watch as she stands at the side of the Dark Lady herself, head canted back in mutual laughter and a drink in hand. Harriet has been afforded certain clemency from Mona Chen that others have only dreamed of but one does not stand at the right hand of a goddess without garnering attention from her clientele. The question in the back of her mind; did she want the recognition?

(Harriet, as a neutral character, has the potential to be connected to the mafia through her connection with the Dark Lady. It is purposefully broad as I can imagine it going a number of directions - using information she has learned against someone who threatens her, someone seeking her out for the information they believe she knows, or even being used as leverage against Mona herself! Overall, I want to use the Dark Lady to draw her closer to the mob.)

iii. HEY THERE, DELILAH

Delilah; a woman who dared to step beyond the boundaries that the mafia had drawn for her and suffered the consequence, still offering Harriet the comfort that she was not alone. Their affliction was different but their diagnosis was the same; heartache. Their connection is particularly interesting given that Delilah was stabbed at the cathedral, a deathly reminder; that the mob will continue to tear those who try to better themselves down unless it fits their agenda.

(I think after what happened at the cathedral that it will be a reminder for Harriet about the cruelty of the mob, perhaps making her thankful that she isn’t directly connected to either camp. The fact that Delilah and Odin were a couple, that the woman she might grow to consider a friend danced with the devil and emerged unscathed, physically, at least, would make Harriet both respectful and fearful of her - did this woman know what happened to her son?)

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | Once you turn her into a statue…

IN DEPTH

In-Character Interview:

Harriet had to grapple with reluctance until it seemed agreeable to host the interview at her home. Her space had been her own for so long that the thought of letting someone else in, however temporary, seemed alien to her. Hesitation, thankfully a yielding creature when faced with resolution and resolve, still manifested in the nervous tapping of her feet when positioned at her work station. The soft cadence of the doorbell soon echoes within the confines of the modest apartment, a soft smile lined her lips as she answered the door. The shock that greeted her in response turns her expression sheepish as she remembers the scalpel held loosely in hand. Great start, she thinks to herself, though what she says is a hushed apology.

“Please, come in,” attempting to rectify the damage she had managed to inflict, she stands back in what she hopes seems like a welcoming gesture. “Can I get you anything, signora? Tea? Coffee?” Harriet waits for their answer, nodding her comprehension as she busies herself with making a beverage for each of them, returning to take a seat opposite them at her table. Her home was modest, and she liked it that way, unburned by the expectations of a lavish lifestyle and unchained by memories that she would have rather forgotten in the large house she had once lived in. Nice might not have been the word for it, but she would have said it came close.

“What is your favourite place in Verona?”

“The Cathedral was one of my favourite places in Verona, before -,” her sentence trails off, it didn’t need to be finished; everyone knew what happened to the building that had once stood proud in the centre of the city. Harriet had gone there every day when she had been married, used to pray that she was somewhere - anywhere - else. Safe. Odd, that the girl who had been content with what she had, to have wished for something beyond her reach. There had been a moment - between the explosion and the acknowledgement of what had happened - where relief had surged through her.

“Now,” she lapses into a brief silence, consulting the softest part of herself that still beat beneath her ribs, “I’d have to say that the natural history museum has a special place in my heart.”

“What does your typical day look like?”

“Is anything typical in Verona?” Head cants in tandem with her question, the corners of her mouth quirking upward as she gradually relaxes into the situation. “Bene,” relenting, acknowledging that the woman in front of her was serious about the task at hand, “I’m afraid I’m rather dull. I spend the majority of my time at work and, when I’m not there, you’ll find me here.” Hands sweep outward, away from her body, motioning toward the explanation for her scalpel, her latest project cast to one side in favour of the mug of coffee she held between her hands. Harriet doesn’t mention the club where she spends the majority of her evenings, everyone in Verona knew the Lady and had formed their opinion on her, and her business was her own.

“What has been your biggest mistake thus far?”

Breath sucked in between her teeth, pause ensuing, she is unsure how best to answer. “I want to say being too free with whom I give my heart to,” even as she says it aloud it sounds like she was answering one question with another, answering one of them, she continues, “but I don’t think of that as a mistake, a learning curve perhaps, but it is never a mistake to love.” Her heart aches, she can feel it in her chest, an assault against her ribcage in protest of her response. Harriet had been burnt by the flames of devotion before, again and again, yet she was willing to ignite that fire again and let it dance within her soul.

“What has been the most difficult task asked of you?”

The sigh slips from her before she can stop it, “I’m not sure.” Instinct was a cunning thing, faster than the plethora of other options that formed from its dust, leaving her no time to reinforce her armour. “I think to live when the odds are stacked against you can be quite difficult at times.” Harriet forces a faint breath of laughter, half for her sake and half for her interviewer, self-deprecation lingering in the corners of her expression. “This interview will seem terribly sad, won’t it? I’m not so serious all the time, I promise.”

“What are your thoughts on the war between the Capulets and the Montagues?”

Harriet remembers the feeling of her fingers brushing across the small, neatly printed, card affixed to the wall of the gallery, mouth turned into a reflection of the contented guise she had donned in that moment. Her gaze had drank in the black ink on white, like iced tea on a summer day, and she had felt happy. In loving memory of Maximillian D’Angelo it read. The display had been one of the first that she curated in the Twelfth Night, and it had felt right, seeing the butterflies (in various artistic guises) peppered throughout the room; her old life and her new merged into one.

“It has been happening for as long as I can remember,” she muses, truthfully, “and so many have been injured as a result. Their war has cost me my son, I know that I don’t want to be involved with it.”

Extras:

Mock blog – https://mockhermione.tumblr.com/

Pinterest board – https://www.pinterest.ie/em_kl/misc-oc/

Playlist – https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2Kdebdsmt4FI2KCbEHuVZx?si=yhdor2ObSiSXrbVM9sy4JQ

HEADCANON: (TW Death)

Harriet was born January 4th 1984, making her a Capricorn, the only child of Claudia and Gabriel D’Angelo.

Her mother had chosen to be a stay-at-home wife, abandoning her role as receptionist in a law firm once she had Harriet, her father worked as a lessor of real estate which turned a profit.

Harriet has a BSc in Biology and a MA in museum studies.

Uberto Regio had not lived up to the meaning of his name, yet she had married him, aged 22, in an effort to appease her parents. In making a long story short, it was not a pleasant marriage.

Maximillian Regio was born on December 27th 2006, a belated Christmas gift, becoming Maximillian D’Angelo when Harriet reclaimed her maiden name after her marriage ended in the New Year.

Harriet was offered a job in the Museo Civico di Storia Naturale, the Natural History Museum of Verona, transferring to the Twelfth Night & the Tempest after her son died.

Max was 7 years old, just shy of turning 8, when he was murdered.. [I’m going to purposefully leave the cause vague as while I imagine he was caught in the crossfire between opposing sides of the mob coming home from school I would like to discuss with admins and relevant writers as necessary]

Harriet keeps butterflies and releases them from a butterfly garden every year as it was something her and Max used to do.

Her personality type is the Defender: ISFJ. Kind, quiet and devoted. She is a natural protector of the weak and good-hearted once you get beyond her initial awkwardness.

One of her more unusual hobbies is taxidermy which she learned from her grandfather, and touched on in her degree.

[pendingproductivity]

2020 READING RECAP!

This year sucked ass in so many ways, but it might be the best year of reading I’ve ever had. I discovered so many new favorites, revisited some old favorites, and even read a few books multiple times. In this post, I’ve listed my top five favorite books from this year in the order that I read them because I don’t think I could possibly rank them against each other. They have all become some of my favorite books of all time. I’ve also included a few honorable mentions which are ranked with my favorite listed first. And lastly, I have two notable rereads of some old favorites. I also added links to each book on goodreads and bookshop so you can easily add anything to your tbr or buy it! This is going to be a long one, so buckle up. Without further ado, here is an overview of the books I read in 2020!

.

s t a t s :

reading goal: 30

total books read: 31

new (to me) books read: 22

average rating: 4.2/5 stars

.

t o p   f i v e   f a v o r i t e s : 

Beartown and Us Against You by Fredrik Backman

(Yes, I know I’m kind of cheating by counting this as one book but just roll with me here) Beartown takes place in a tiny community in rural Sweden which is defined by their hockey club. When the junior hockey team has a chance at winning the national championships, the entire town throws their full support behind them. The burden of the pride of their community rests on the shoulders of a handful of teenage boys. For one, the pressure boils over and he commits an act of violence that leaves a young girl traumatized, and the entire community divided. 

Late one evening toward the end of March, a teenager picked up a double-barreled shotgun, walked into the forest, put the gun to someone else's forehead, and pulled the trigger.

This is the story of how we got there.

These two books were downright spectacular. Over the course of this year, I’ve completely fallen in love with Backman’s writing style (we love a good onomatopoeia) but more than anything else I just adore his characters. Each one is multidimensional, and even the most infuriating residents of Beartown have their redeeming qualities. I also love the attention he gives to even the side characters whose motivations shape the story even if they only appear for a few scenes. These are stories about right and wrong, courage and fear, and most of all, humanity itself. I laughed and cried and felt more emotions than I thought was possible. Beartown was amazing, but I actually thought that the sequel, Us Against You, somehow surpassed it, so make sure to read both!! (TW: rape/sexual assault)

goodreads - bookshop (Beartown)   goodreads - bookshop (UAY) 

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When Breath Becomes Air by Paul Kalanithi

Paul Kalanithi was thirty-six years old and on the verge of completing a decade’s worth of training to become a neurosurgeon when he was diagnosed with stage IV lung cancer. His memoir, When Breath Becomes Air, follows his journey from being a naïve medical student, to a brilliant neurosurgeon at Stanford, to being a cancer patient and a new father confronting his own mortality.  

I began to realize that coming in such close contact with my own mortality had changed both nothing and everything. Before my cancer was diagnosed, I knew that someday I would die, but I didn’t know when. After the diagnosis, I knew that someday I would die, but I didn’t know when. But now I knew it acutely. The problem wasn’t really a scientific one. The fact of death is unsettling. Yet there is no other way to live.

This memoir caught me completely by surprise. It was assigned reading for an English class and I wasn’t expecting to enjoy it let alone completely reevaluate my perception of the world around me because of it. Kalanithi discusses learning, medicine, life, and death as he seeks to answer the age-old question, “What makes life worth living?” and the unique perspectives that he offered fascinated me. When Breath Becomes Air is an unfinished manuscript, since Kalanithi died in 2015, but the epilogue written by his wife might just be the best part of the whole book. To tell you that I was sobbing while reading it would be an understatement. The reason why this book made this list is because I finished it in March, but I still think about it relatively often. When Breath Becomes Air has left a lasting impact on my life, and I highly recommend it!

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The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo by Taylor Jenkins Reid

Evelyn Hugo was a Hollywood legend, but after her sudden departure from show business in the late 80s, she completely fell out of the public gaze. Now she is finally ready to tell the true story about her scandalous and glamorous life and she has specifically chosen Monique Grant, a virtually unknown magazine reporter, for the job. For Monique this exclusive is the opportunity of a lifetime. Evelyn tells her story of ambition, friendship, love, and of course each of her seven husbands. However, it becomes evident that Evelyn’s life has intersected with Monique’s own in tragic and irreversible ways.

It’s always been fascinating to me how things can be simultaneously true and false, how people can be good and bad all in one, how someone can love you in a way that is beautifully selfless while serving themselves ruthlessly.

This. Book. It was absolutely captivating. I’m honestly not even sure what to say here without giving too much away. The plot is truly a wild ride as Evelyn leads Monique through the story of her life. There are so many twists and turns: some that I saw coming and others that completely blindsided me. And that not even to mention Evelyn Hugo herself who is one of the strongest, smartest, most compassionate and deeply flawed characters I’ve ever read about. All the characters were complex and layered, but she was really something else. There were so so many emotions and so many tears and I really don’t know what else to say. I’m begging you to read this book; it will blow your mind.

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A Man Called Ove by Fredrik Backman

Ove is a curmudgeon whose life is turned upside down when a young, vivacious family moves in next door. That’s it. That’s the synopsis.

Death is a strange thing. People live their whole lives as if it does not exist, and yet it's often one of the great motivations for living. Some of us, in time, become so conscious of it that we live harder, more obstinately, with more fury. Some need its constant presence to even be aware of its antithesis. Others become so preoccupied with it that they go into the waiting room long before it has announced its arrival. We fear it, yet most of us fear more than anything that it may take someone other than ourselves. For the greatest fear of death is always that it will pass us by. And leave us there alone.

You’ve seen the Pixar movie: grumpy old man meets young person who shows him life is worth living and they become buds etc. etc. Sure, you could essentially boil down A Man Called Ove to that simple plotline but it is so much more than that. It’s heartbreaking and hopeful and you’ll laugh and cry while reading it. This was the most wholesome story I had read in a long time, and I thoroughly enjoyed every last bit of it. I’ve already explained my love of Backman’s unique writing style, but this novel in particular does a beautiful job of tackling deep themes such as grief and purpose with a generous serving of humor. I also just adored the ending. While this book isn’t at all fluffy or entirely lighthearted, it gave me all of he warm fuzzy feelings I was craving. I cannot possibly recommend it enough!

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Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen 

Elizabeth Bennet and her four sisters must find wealthy husbands because upon their father’s death, the entirety of his estate will be passed on to a male cousin, leaving them penniless. Conveniently, a wealthy gentleman called Mr. Bingley moves into the neighborhood, bringing along his even wealthier although most unpleasant friend, Mr. Darcy. 

Vanity and pride are different things, though the words are often used synonymously. A person may be proud without being vain. Pride relates more to our opinion of ourselves, vanity to what we would have others think of us.

I definitely didn’t think that I was going to enjoy this book nearly as much as I did. The story truly is timeless, and I absolutely adored Elizabeth and Darcy. The biggest surprise I had while reading is that the humor is still funny today and of course Lizzy is fucking hilarious. She is confident, principled, and more than happy to roast the shit out of anyone who deserves it. And then there’s the matter of Mr. Darcy being so sweet and kind (after he stops being an asshole of course) and greatly contributing to the unattainable standards I have for men. It was also nice to have a socially awkward male lead, and in many ways I related more to him than to Lizzy. This book is everything I want from a romance novel plus class criticism and feminism and Elizabeth being an absolute badass. Enemies to lovers is my all time favorite romance trope and I loved reading one of the OGs. Also, I’d just like to add that Mary is the most underappreciated character of the whole novel because she’s really just trying her best. Mostly I was just completely impressed with how this novel has withstood the test of time and it has become one of my favorite classics! Please please give this book a chance even if you don’t typically enjoy classic novels!!

goodreads - bookshop - barnes&noble (this is the edition I have and it’s just so gorgeous I had to include it!)

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h o n o r a b l e   m e n t i o n s :

The Martian by Andy Weir

Mark Watney is one of the first people to ever walk on Mars, and now it seems like he’ll be the fist person to die there. A raging dust storm forced his crew to evacuate without him and he finds himself alone on the red planet with the entire world believing him to be dead. This book just barely missed being one of my top five of the year, but it was absolutely amazing. I love reading about people finding clever solutions to problems and that is basically what this entire story is. I maybe understood half of the technical science jargon if I’m being generous, but the story is plenty enjoyable even without extensive scientific knowledge. I adore Mark’s wit and mindset, and I loved watching him wriggle his way out of impossible situations with the odds completely stacked against him. The Martian is a story of perseverance and humanity, but it’s also absolutely hilarious. I highly recommend this one if you haven’t picked it up!!

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Little Fires Everywhere by Celeste Ng

Shaker-Heights appears to be the perfect place to raise a family. It’s progressive, has low crime rates and is all around an idyllic bubble. This all begins to change when a single mother and her daughter move into town with a disregard for the status quo, and a custody battle erupts, dividing the community. This was a great book that ended up being surprisingly thought provoking, and I particularly enjoyed the novel’s criticism of liberal idealism. The story itself was entertaining and I think it’s definitely worth a read! 

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Red, White, and Royal Blue by Casey McQuiston

Alex Claremont-Diaz is the first son of the United States who finds himself intertwined in a damage control PR stunt with his sworn nemesis, Prince Henry. They have to pretend to be best friends to ensure that their confrontation at the royal wedding doesn’t get in the way of American/British relations. I’m sure you can guess where this is going. This is totally a feel-good love story, but it also finds the time to tackle real issues surrounding politics and societal expectations. I loved this book so much that I read it twice this year (the second time because I was so stressed about the election and I needed to distract myself with the fictional 2020 election that takes place in the novel) and also I’m just a sucker for enemies to lovers. (sidenote: the turkey catastrophe is one of the greatest scenes in literary history and you cannot convince me otherwise) 100% would recommend!

goodreads - bookshop

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n o t a b l e   r e r e a d s :

The Harry Potter Series by J.K. Rowling

The Jim Dale audiobooks are my ultimate self-care tool when I’m stressed or sad; I just find them to be so comforting and I can’t explain why. Because of this I probably listen to at least one of the books every year, but it’s usually just whichever one I happen to be in the mood for. But it’s been so long since I’ve listened through the entire series, and this year seemed to be the perfect time to do so! 

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Fangirl by Rainbow Rowell

This used to be my favorite book of all time. I’m pretty sure I first read it in sixth or seventh grade and I’ve reread it so many times since. I’ve been planning on rereading this book my first year of university for such a long time, and the time finally came! The book especially hit hard this semester because Cath feels disconnected from everyone at school because she doesn’t want to go to parties or make much of an effort to find friends, and because of COVID, I ended up in almost the exact same situation, (except unfortunately my roommate doesn’t have a cute ex-boyfriend who hangs out in our room). This was definitely another comfort read like the HP audiobooks and it made me feel a bit better about being stuck in my dorm room. 

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If you actually made it to the end of all that, wow, you’re a real one. I hope you got a few new book recs out of this! If you want to see the thirteen other books I read this year, you can check out my 2020 reading challenge. I read so many amazing books this year I had  hard time narrowing down my favorites, so there are still plenty more great reads that aren’t included in this post. If for some reason you feel like keeping up with the books I read in 2021, follow my goodreads account for dramatic and ranty book reviews. Happy New Year, and here’s to 2021 being full of wonderful books!

[royalpains-roleplay]

Hey lovelies! Just some friendly reminders about roleplaying triggers. If you need any resources to help you play them please let me know. Possible trigger warning as it goes into some details and symptoms.

Addiction - A big one I see a lot in roleplay - I don’t mean in this group but I haven’t seen a lot of addiction storylines played all the same - is people who claim their characters are addicted to something but then they get ‘help’ and are able to casually do so afterwards. The things is, say your character is an alcohol dependent character, they can’t just get treatment and be able to have a glass of champagne. Once an addict, even when you’ve recovered, you will always have addiction thoughts and won’t be able to just casually drink without relapsing. Same goes for drugs, gambling, etc. Any addiction you cover, follow through with the storyline, don’t just drop off half way because it bores you. If you don’t think you’re ready to take on a big storyline of the sort, don’t take the character. You’re not a bad person because you can’t do the storyline, it’s just not your style.

Sickness (Cancer, etc) - If your character has a severe illness of some sort, like cancer for example, or they had cancer, there are going to be things to be included. Your character is going through treatments? Maybe they lost their hair, or are seeing thinning in it. They’re probably feeling weaker than they usually are, maybe you just kinda make it so they’re out of breath and need a minute to sit down. Maybe they wear a certain makeup to hide paleness. Small things like this are easy to include in your writing. A character suffering from a debilitating illness will probably not be perfectly capable of looking super model ready every five minutes and being able to just get up and run. Again, most people do an excellent job but even I, myself as a writer forget that sometimes that Ana is in remission but her body is still permanently affected. Things to remember is say like alcohol might hit the character quickly, or depending on how long it’s been since the treatment, the character might be struggling with fertility, all things to take into account. Think about the kind of treatment they’re receiving, don’t be scared of details. 

PTSD - It is so, so easy to stick this claim on your character. I’ve seen it done a hundred times (I’m a dinosaur whose been roleplaying for like 12 years now, don’t mind me). It’s fashionable at this rate, all those television characters. But in reality, it’s not fashionable. It’s not just a breakdown that fits the storyline, it’s inconvenience. It’s anger you can’t control, flashbacks, nightmares, irritability. You can personally come to me and I can give you a whole list of things to attempt including into your storyline if you need it. But don’t just claim your character has this and don’t go anywhere with it. Follow through is so so important for everyone. It’s not just a fashion, many people know this, so don’t treat it as such. It’s important to think about whether they would display symptoms as CPTSD, PTSD or even Borderline Personality Disorder.

Mental Illness - This is not a fashion. Any illness you put on a character of the sort is going to affect themselves in one way or another. Maybe they’re having a hard time socializing, maybe they can’t get out of the bed in the morning. Or maybe they are really bottling it so it comes out physically. Nausea, headaches, vision problems, etc. Make sure you find a way to include the diagnosis of your character. (Not as detailed because there are so many of them. If you need more info on a particular character’s illness, inbox for more info).

Miscarriage - This is a really hard topic for a lot of people. It’s painful, brutal and can shake an entire family. Don’t take the topic lightly. There’s nothing wrong with covering this particular topic, what’s wrong is addressing it once and then calling it the end of the storyline. It doesn’t mean you have to constantly have your character be a mess. It can be a lot of ways. Anger, irritability, losing sleep, over-productivity, under-productivity, dissociation. Or maybe your character is okay with it, but always make sure you say why. The why is so important in those cases. You can never just sweep this storyline under the rug. 

Sexual Assault - Another storyline that has really made a dramatic spike over the years. Which isn’t a bad thing. The more people who write about it, the more awareness that is spread that this is real and it happens. Maybe your storyline encourages someone to do some research, to study and look it up. Maybe someday that means it helps a person. However, this storyline is not something to be taken lightly. It’s not something you just write once and never ever address at all again. This sticks with you. This is not something you can just kind of sweep under the rug. Surface wise, your character can seem well adjusted, but as a writer you have the ability to show it in the little ways. Yes, you might get the few people who have recovered perfectly fine without therapy. But this is rare. So remember not to ditch the storyline without finding closure for it. 

ED’s - This is a really common one. Especially in the media. For example in Gossip Girl where they addressed Blair’s eating disorder for about three episodes and never really showed any big struggles afterward. A lot of people can do that with characters. One thing to remember with severe eating disorders is that it’s not just something that’ll make you thin. It’s not just some increased diet, it’s about psychology. Control, etc. And it’s not just presenting by thinness. Characters with severe eating disorders are going to show signs. Some things that are small to add in would be yellowing teeth. Purging strips a lot of the protective layers from your teeth and can make them yellow and in severe cases can rot them. So if you’re wanting to address this, maybe your character is buying white strips to counteract? Maybe they’re buying dentures. There’s also like callousing of the fingers, sores, scabs on the knuckles, etc. Sore throats are also common as a mix of stomach acid burn and scratching of nails. Maybe the character has a raspy voice because of it. Maybe they have cracked nails so they wear fake ones. Always find ways to include this in your storyline, because if you’re making it purely that your character is just dramatically losing weight, you may be accidentally “romanticizing bulimia”. This is not to say all bulimics purge in that way, but there’s always some kind of sign or symptom you can incorporate. Anorexia is a lot harder to hide visibly. In drastic cases you’re going to see sunken faces and eyes, yellowing of the skin and eyes, dramatic hair loss and so much more. Low blood sugar would cause passing out. Not eating would cause weakening of muscles. Blueish fingers and toes because the blood is all going to your body core, linugo. Even calloused knuckles and worn teeth from purging. Anorexia can cause excessive bruising as well. Again, this is all very very important to include. Maybe your character is wearing a wig, maybe they use filling make up to hide the sunken face and yellowing skin, maybe they’re wearing dentures, or they see regular manicures. Maybe they carry glucose tablets to bring their sugar up in a pinch. This is all very very important to include. Because an eating disorder isn’t pretty. And it’s not just being thin. Now it’s not to say you have to include everything, but try to include some. Just like with illness/cancer, you’re probably looking at more easily affected by alcohol, more prone to alcohol poisoning, and it’s very commonly known that anorexia patients tend to struggle fertility wise. All things you can include. (This one was so long because I wanted to cover the two commonly known ED’s in length because I know they’re very different. Though if anyone starts to take on a Binge Eating Disorder or the ARFID I will also do research and come back with more info. ) 

Abuse - Abuse storylines can be quite common. Especially things like abuse from parents and what not. I’ve seen it a lot in my time. In roleplay, books, movies, television. Things to remember is that sometimes, abuse victims don’t actually know that what they’re going through isn’t normal. Some do, others don’t. But that doesn’t mean there won’t be symptoms. Some might have wet the bed as children, some are more violent. Some flinch when others are approaching, some suffer from perhaps substance abuse. Others who are aware of what they’re going through being wrong could probably be better at keeping secrets, more paranoid, etc. There are a lot of things to think about in regards to abuse storylines.

I know there are a few triggering storylines I left out. It’s not to say they don’t exist and if you want me to cover another topic, just let me know and I definitely will go over it. This isn’t calling anyone out, it’s not criticizing anyone’s writing, it’s just some things to take note of, and think about when travelling down roads for your characters.

[missmentelle]

How to Support a Partner with Autism

After nearly two years of being single following a very difficult breakup, I got into a new relationship last year. Although we had a bit of a rocky start - as regular readers of this blog already know - we have managed to overcome our issues and build a happy, affectionate, stable relationship with each other. My new guy has all of the traits I was looking for in a partner - he’s kind, thoughtful, and considerate. He's dependable, and even though I’m not a morning person, I gladly wake up early to exchange “good morning” texts with him, filled with flirty compliments and encouragement for the day ahead. We share the same interests and values, and there’s nothing I look forward to more than curling up in his arms at the end of a long day. After years of living with a partner who seemed determined to grind me down, my new guy is the first person I’ve ever dated who puts an effort into building me up instead. 

He also happens to be on the Autism spectrum. 

My partner is from a European country with some of the worst protections for autistic human rights in the developed world, and his diagnosis has been a source of deep shame for him. He has lived his whole life under serious stigma, and he had hoped that moving to America would make things a little better for him. My friends and family’s reactions to finding out my partner is autistic, however, have been disappointing, even in an age and country where autism acceptance is on the rise. Many of them don’t understand why I would want to have an autistic partner, or they are surprised to learn that autistic people date at all. It’s not entirely surprising that they think this way - although there is more information out there about autism than ever, and depictions of autism in popular media are on the rise, it is still rare to see autistic people presented as sexually desirable, or to see serious conversations about dating and sex with people on the spectrum. When we are shown autistic people in dating situations, either their social awkwardness is played for laughs, or they are portrayed as only being capable of dating other autistic people. The idea that autistic people can have happy, mutually fulfilling romantic relationships with non-autistic people is not often explored in media or in resources about autism, and I have to look pretty hard to find advice or examples of relationships that look like mine. 

So if you’re a non-autistic person who is in love with an autistic person, and you’re worried about how best to support your partner’s needs, here are my personal recommendations:

Ask your partner what they need. Your partner has been living with their quirks for a lot longer than you have, and by this point, they probably have a good idea of what works for them and what doesn’t. Don’t guess, and don’t make assumptions - ask your partner what they need from you, in plain and direct language. The things that worked in your previous relationships might not work for this partner, and it’s better to discuss your partner’s needs ahead of time rather than learning that they don’t like something after they’ve already gotten stressed out or upset. 

Beware of stereotypes. Don’t assume that you know what an autistic person needs just because you sat through three episodes of Atypical and half a season of The Big Bang Theory. Autistic people have as much variety as non-autistic people, and your partner is probably very different from every other autistic person you know. My boyfriend is the guitarist in a heavy metal band and routinely performs in noisy bars - he doesn’t experience sensory processing issues to the same degree that other people with autism do. He does have a hard time with written communication, while some autistic people literally write novels. Everyone is different, and relying on stereotypes is unfair to your partner. 

Be prepared to face communication difficulties. One of the hallmarks of autism is that it makes communication difficult. That’s kind of what autism is. While previous partners might have been able to effortlessly read your meaning from a single glance or a gentle nudge, your autistic partner may have difficulties doing the same, and getting angry at them for not picking up on subtle nuances is just going to make you both upset. Finding a way to communicate is essential for all couples, but it may require more dedicated effort when one or both of you has communication issues. Get used to saying exactly what you mean - many people with autism struggle to parse sarcasm or passive aggression, and you can’t have a productive relationship when one of you has to work a lot harder to understand what the other is getting at. If you are the sort who loves to tease, check in with your partner and make sure they know when you are kidding and when you aren’t. Debrief after difficult interactions to see where you both could have done things differently. Your partner is worth the effort.

Learn to not take things personally. People with autism can be very blunt, and sometimes struggle to know when they have crossed the line from “telling it like it is” to “hurting others’ feelings”. They may also have moments where they want to socially withdraw, or moments when they do not want to be physically touched. It’s important not to take any of it personally, and to remember that your partner’s moods and needs are not always about you. Your partner isn’t trying to hurt you - they are just trying to exist in a world that isn’t always comfortable for them. My partner and I have a double barrier to communication that can sometimes lead to unintended offense; there is a language gap between us, as his English is not perfect, and I am barely conversational in his native tongue. There are plenty of times he has accidentally said something harsh, or chosen unnecessarily harsh wording. He struggles to find the right words to comfort someone, especially over text message, and when I’m worried about something he will often say “I don’t care about this” - not because he’s telling me to shut up, but because he can’t find the words to say “I am confident that everything is going to work out okay, and so I am not concerned about this issue and you shouldn’t be either”. Having a partner with autism often means extending the benefit of the doubt, letting things go, and asking your partner for clarification before responding to what they say.

Don’t drop hints or expect mind-reading. You shouldn’t do this in any relationship, but it’s especially important that you not do this with an autistic partner. Autistic partners cannot play the “what’s wrong - I’m fine - no you’re not - I said I’m fine” game with you; you have to tell them outright if something is bothering you, instead of hoping they will notice you are obviously in a pissy mood. Use your words. Social connections do not always come naturally to your partner, and asking them to make the connection between an offhand comment you made a week ago and your mood today is just going to make everyone needlessly frustrated. If you didn’t say it in plain language, don’t expect them to know what you want.

Remember that honesty is a double-edged sword. People with autism often do not see the point in lying. If I ask my boyfriend if I look fat in my new dress, he will absolutely give me an honest answer, and then make several suggestions for changes that I might make to my diet and exercise regime. He is not trying to be rude, and he doesn’t actually want me to lose weight - he is giving me the answer that he thought I wanted. Don’t ask your autistic partner questions that you don’t want honest answers to. The little voice in your head that tells you “the truth is going to hurt this person’s feelings too much, time for a white lie” doesn’t work for everyone, and your partner may have a hard time understanding when you are actually hoping to be lied to. 

Understand that you may need to initiate things. People with autism tend to face a lot of social rejection in their lives, and by the time they reach dating age, it can really begin to take a toll on them. They are used to seeing themselves portrayed as sexually and socially undesirable, and they may have come to believe that dating is off the table for them. Most have been burned before for coming on too strong, or for making their feelings known when their interest wasn’t returned, and they may be hesitant to make the first move. My partner has actually been in a lot more relationships than I have, but almost never of his own volition - he is objectively extremely physically attractive, especially to women who like men from alternative subcultures, and he has been fortunate enough to have other people constantly make the first move. Even at this stage in the relationship, I often have to be the one to initiate affection - he is wary of coming on too strong, and prefers to wait for me to make a move.

Be prepared to offer a lot of reassurance. My partner struggles to identify other people’s moods or read facial expressions. He cannot tell a “I’m genuinely happy to be interacting with you” smile from a “I’m trying to be polite but I want you to go away” smile, and he knows it. It’s very stressful to not be able to tell what kind of impact you’re having with another person, and sometimes people with autism need extra reassurance that their partners are enjoying whatever it is they are doing and want it to continue. A quick “hey, I really like that you hugged me just now, it made me really happy” goes a long way.

Don’t infantalize your partner. Your partner is an adult with autism. They are not a child, and they don’t need to be treated like one. The fact that they might sometimes need extra patience with communication does not mean that they need to be coddled, talked down to, or pitied. People with autism deserve to be respected like any other adult - you should not be trying to shelter them or undermining their ability to make decisions for themselves. Let them take risks if they want to take risks, and don’t act like their substitute parent. 

Plan dates and activities with their needs in mind. Even if your partner can handle going to a noisy bar, that’s probably not the place to meet up with them if you need to have an emotionally tough conversation with them. Some autistic people struggle with food - a trip to a restaurant with completely unfamiliar cuisine may be more stressful than exciting for them. Likewise, while popular media pushes the idea that being “spontaneous” is important for a love connection, many people with autism are much happier having a set routine and knowing about any plans well in advance. If my partner and I have a date set for next week, he will text me every day until then to confirm our plans. Don’t worry about what the world finds “romantic” - do what works best for the two of you.

Remember that they still feel emotions, even if they can’t always show it. People often make the mistake of assuming that people with autism are “emotionless” or “robotic”. But an inability to express emotions outwardly does not mean they aren’t being experienced on the inside. People with autism can experience very intense emotions, but not show outward signs of this. Don’t assume that your partner is feeling nothing just because they seem placid and calm - check in with them, even if they appear to be okay. 

Enjoy them for who they are. The whole point of getting into a relationship with someone was, presumably, because you enjoy spending time with them. So keep spending time with them. It’s important to be mindful of barriers that your partner faces, but it’s also important not to get too wrapped up in it and reduce your partner to a label. My partner is autistic, but he’s also my cooking partner, my travel buddy and the person whose ass I am going to kick just as soon as I get good at shooter games. There’s no point trying to divide him up into “autistic traits” and “non-autistic traits”. He’s a whole wonderful person, and someone I feel very lucky to even know. 

[marsbaumer]

hello !! the name is cal, pronouns they/them, and i’m in the est timezone. i’m so very excited to bring my kiddo mars to the deja brew !! listed below is going to be some information on the little mess. at the very bottom i’ve listed some possible connections as well that i think would be neat to explore. if you would like to plot feel free to like this and i’ll come to your ims or let me know if you’d prefer to plot over discord. i am very excited and look forward to writing with you all uwu

basics

name: mars baumer job: baker at deja brew & podcast host age: twenty-three gender: nonbinary pronouns: she/they sexuality: bisexual / biromantic birthday: april 2nd zodiac: aries personality type: the entertainer | esfp pinterest board: click here

regular order

large black coffee with a shot of caramel & whipped cream on top

aesthetics

listening to conspiracy podcasts in a deadbeat car in an empty parking lot in the middle of the night

the wafting smell of freshly made blueberry muffins and pockets of sunshine that warm your skin

 skinned knees covered by alien themed band-aids

theme song: boy bye by brockhampton

ring in their ears like a bark always feel left in the dark trauma the price for the patience character shift like an arc move like my shit stay in park don't feel the love or respect grip like a hand on my neck this is the year, place your bets (boy, bye)

positive & negative

brash ( adj ) : self-assertive in a rude, noisy, or overbearing way.

sagacious ( adj ) : having or showing keen mental discernment and good judgment; shrewd.

planetary commentary: updates every thursday @ 3:33am

planetary commentary is a podcast that focuses on all sorts of topics though they primarily tend to center around conspiracy theories, murder mysteries, missing people cases, space, lgbtqa+ subjects, and the occasional book or movie reviews. it could be seen as a bit of a messy podcast, however, it has gained quite the following over the year and a half its been available. ( first premiered may 1st, 2017 )

the chronicles of unknowing: updates every sunday @ 3:33am

a sci-fi, fantasy podcast centered around a boy as he journeys through a strange and mysterious land. he could not recall his name nor how he ended up in such an empty place. he simply woke up one day in a empty house where faceless photos presented themselves on dusty walls. how will he deal with the loneliness this empty town envokes and how will he choose to proceed when there is no clear direction? join the nameless boy as he logs his journey via tape recorder. ( first premiered october 1st, 2019 )

then

mars was born to their mother in the early hours of april second after tiring hours of labour. her mother, anastasia baumer, was over the moon to have her child in her arms after nine long months. it was a lonely celebration, though. no one was there to congratulate her or see her beautiful baby. no, instead, she welcomed mars into the world with just herself as family.

being a working single mother was tough, the money that anastasia’s parents had left her helped in mars’ younger years before they were old enough to go into daycare. things were bound to get more difficult as life went on as the finances were harder to keep up with, especially rent which only increased over the years. still, the child and mother duo were happy and lived life to its fullest. sure, mars couldn’t join any extracurricular sports, but they enjoyed writing and helping their mother with cooking/baking.

of course, life just couldn’t sort itself out for them. no matter how much anastasia gave, the world only took and took and took. it only made sense for the world’s greed to fall on mars as well. on their twelfth birthday, their mother made a choice to go out in the rain to pick up their birthday cake. she never made it home. mars waited up all night until the police came knocking to deliver the news.

( death tw ) a hit and run. she was left to die in the rain alone. that was probably the worst part. the fact that life couldn’t be gentle with her even til the end. mars wanted the hard truth. what was their mother’s last moments like? who left her to die? why would they do such a thing? there were so many questions they had and the police, with much hesitance, answered to the best of their abilities. their mother’s best friend met them at the station. she attempted to stay strong, however even in her righteous anger, tears swept her cheeks. it was a long month that followed.

left alone, mars was placed in foster care. the system was incredibly difficult to move through. they ended up being incredibly difficult to handle between poorly adjusting in school and slipping out of the houses. it took two years of swapping between three foster homes before they found the knox household. the knox’s consisted of cillian and avery knox as well as their son isak. it was a somewhat strange ensemble that mars joined. isak was cillian’s son from a previous marriage before he’d met avery and fell harder than ever before. it was...cute. they gave them space and isak was different from the other kids they ended up staying with previously. for starters, he was only a year younger than them. he complimented their vibe the first time they met and then asked what they thought about aliens. needless to say, their introduction into the knox’s dynamic and to each of them personally was a welcomed change.

fourteen years old, mars finally found a place they could settle down in and mourn their mother while attempting to settle. it was nice, living with avery- living with another person of colour, who encouraged their desire to explore different styles and, later on, pronouns when they started to question their gender. the support of cillian and isak as well encourage their unique interests and desire to learn about their self. the family helped them in ways they could never pay back. 

( cancer tw, death tw ) life never failed to come back to ruin them. they had at least six years of blissful peace before isak began to get sick. it was a terrible time and took a while to catch on to. yet, the diagnosis wasn’t promising. cancer never was. isak held out a while against the leukemia that made him sick. almost a year, in fact, before he ended up passing. the devastation they felt was an echo of the past as they lost their best friend and brother. 

now

two years later found mars living outside the knox household and in a two bedroom apartment with someone they found on craig’s list or something. they liked to introduce them and tell tales about how they ended up rooming together, even going as far as claiming they found them on the side of the road. 

mars has been working at the deja brew for about two years now. after dropping out of school for when isak was sick, they decided not to return. their fathers were disgruntled, but allowed it. after all, they were there on scholarship anyways. they had expected them to return, however, mars has yet to show any interest in continuing their program.

mars can come across as a very detached individual, however, they are in actuality very passionate. get them speaking about something they have an interest in and they seem to do a complete 180 in personality as they talk. 

they enjoy experimenting in the kitchen, whether it be baking or cooking. occasionally, they’ll have their co-workers and some customers try one of their end products to get a gauge on how it turned out. unfortunately, they’re not always good. most of the time they’re stomach-able, though, so that’s good.

they just began a new podcast titled the chronicles of unknowing. they haven’t told anyone, but the main character is based off of their brother. they wanted to remember him and transform their grief into something that could possible help others but also potentially allow for isak to still touch peoples lives.

they publish the podcasts under the pseudonym mercury as they believe it takes the whole act of them creating away from their self and focuses things on the actual content they put out.

[missizzy]

Fic: The Klingon’s Mate, Part 3 (Star Trek: Deep Space 9)

Worf went on shift before her the next morning, which made that easier. She ate breakfast with Turink, and listened to him talk about the previous day. There at least she found one mercy: he’d had a good day yesterday. He’d met with two other boys about his mental age on the starbase, including one from a silicon-based species whom he’d found it fun to wrestle with, and so far they were getting along, or so he claimed. “I like it here,” he said. “I know not everybody likes that I’m half-Klingon, but it’s no longer the case that everyone sees me as weak and inferior because of I’m half-Trill, you know?”

“I know,” said Jadzia softly, wishing Worf had been there to hear his son confirm what she’d always been pretty sure of, though she wasn’t sure he would’ve admitted to it in front of his father, that he had received that treatment on Qo’nos.

The medical exam has obviously been more stressful, but at least he had been told he was in good health. It seemed to Jadzia, as she listened to her son talk about it, that he viewed himself as having conquered that exam, and so now was ready to conquer any academic exams too.

It was good to see him adapting well. Especially, she couldn’t help but think, because of what might happen with him if she didn’t avert this disaster. If worst came to worst, he did have two sets of grandparents who were both willing to take him in, although Jadzia’s parents had never seen enough of him for either their or her own liking. She supposed he might do better on Earth than on Trill, where they were more used to aliens, although obviously that he was half-Klingon was going to be a problem anywhere he went outside Klingon space.

His determination to conquer the exams also meant she had no trouble getting him to take up the right padd and buckle down to study before she went on duty. She left him hunched over it and quietly repeating to himself what sounded like a Vulcan scientific equation.

The lab overnight had received a shipment from the planet of newly discovered fossils from Martisheva’s arctic regions, and that kept Jadzia nicely occupied throughout her shift. Had she not had the most dreaded event of her life hanging over her head, she would have been very happy that day. Even as it was, she could not help but marvel over a couple of them that were millions of years old, containing evidence of some of the earliest life that evolved on the planet, forgetting everything for a moment or so.

Two hours before her shift ended, she was just entering the results of her analysis of one of the newer ones, which had a lot of information attached to it, when Commander Sand came in. He was not someone Jadzia would’ve expected that day at all, and nor was he something she at all wanted to deal with, not before she knew which way her entire life was about to go.

He first looked around to see if they were alone, then said, “Unfortunately I have bad news. Yesterday when I offered you a position as my first officer, you asked if I could bring your husband on board as well. I asked about this, and I now can confirm the answer is no. The Admiral who has the charge of the command is insisting I take one of his people for head of Security, as well as for Engineering, and your husband is too high-ranked to be under him either. He would’ve been overqualified anyway, honestly.

I know you’ll probably turn the position down now, but I would still ask, Commander, that you not do so this moment. Please take the extra day?”

Had he asked this the previous day, her superior or no, Jadzia probably would have officially given him her refusal right then anyway. Aside from the knowledge that she couldn’t take it, it displeased her when superior officers made these kind of pressure-filled requests to her, and it also raised the question of how happy she’d be serving under him, even if the position was in every other way what she’d always wanted. But now she was aware she might just need what that new position and rank could bring her. She could write Nerys her recommendation, for one thing.

“Very well,” she said. “I’ll give you my answer tomorrow night.” If for any reason Julian failed her, she doubted Nerys would take that long to act. In fact, she was hoping she at least would give her time enough and not act sooner.

She went back and forth about comming her as she went to Julian’s. But she ultimately decided against it. Best not to give her any hopes until they could be fulfilled. Besides, Worf might or might not be too busy to talk to her anyway.

When she rang the bell, she heard Julian’s, “Jadzia? Is that you?” which sounded nervous and unlike him. When she called out, “Yes, it’s me,” the door slid open to reveal him still in uniform, but in his blue undershirt; he even still had his boots on. “Come in quickly,” he said.

He’d been on the starbase a little longer than Jadzia and Worf had, which made it shocking that he hadn’t unpacked. His suitcases sat by the table, one of them opened out on the floor with its contents scattered and spilling over. The rest of the room was bare; he hadn’t even set up the holo of his family that had been taken after his father had finally been released. “Wow,” she commented, “have they been keeping you extra busy or something?”

“No,” said Julian. “It’s a little more complicated than that. Or maybe simpler. Sit down.”

Something was wrong, obviously. In fact, when she took a close look at Julian now, Jadzia saw other things, like that it didn’t look like he’d been sleeping much, and, more than that, he looked almost ill. “I suppose I should get you a drink,” he said. “You might want it too, I’m afraid.”

“No,” she said, because she couldn’t afford it for her side of this conversation. Although vital as that was to her and Worf’s future, it was getting harder to concentrate on that, when all she could think was a desperate What’s wrong with him, please…

He looked over at the replicator, then shook his head. “I should be sober for this conversation myself,” he said. “I suppose after it I can drink all I want now, until…”

“Until what?!” That sounded like…No. No, please no…

“Well,” he took a deep breath. “Remember when I once said I was glad that the person who did my genetic resequencing knew what he was doing? Well, it turns out, he made a mistake. A tiny one, which for over thirty years didn’t matter, but in genetic engineering, even the slightest thing off will spell disaster sooner or later, and later has become now. Became it a few months ago, actually, when I started having memory issues. Took me most of the time since to find out what the problem was.”

“And the prognosis?” Jadzia asked. Please, let the answer be anything but…

“It’s not an absolute one yet,” sighed Julian. “I might not even get that; it’s not like there are many examples we doctors can look to in order to get one. But given what’s breaking down in here?” He sadly tapped his forehead. “Death might be what will happen if I’m lucky.”

“No, that can’t be true!” Jadzia protested. “And can’t they go back in and fix you, like you did to Sarina?”

“I’ve looked into that.” He sounded so, so tired. “But my brain issues aren’t the same as hers. If I had a year, maybe I could come up with a version of the operation I performed on her which would work on me, or some colleague could. But in a year, if I’m still alive? I’ll be a blubbering idiot unable to remember what happened a few days ago if I’m lucky, and even less capable of doing anything if I’m not, and probably beyond the kind of help that Sarina had. They’ll have to take me to the institution they still keep Jack and Patrick and Lauran in, and what will they think, seeing me as in worse condition than even them-though they might not even be allowed to see me, to keep them from being traumatized.”

“But it’s not absolute.” Jadzia felt herself grasping at what she could.

“It’s over a 90% chance.”

As Jadzia still sat there, trying to face what she was realizing was the unfaceable, he said, “I made what’s going to be the closest I’ll get to a full diagnosis a couple of days ago. Right now I’m trying to settle my affairs, and taking care of a few last things. Tomorrow morning I’m going to hand in my resignation. I’m going to go home, go see my parents, then probably do some more traveling; there have been some places I’ve always wanted to see. I probably have at least a couple of months before I really start to degenerate. If I have time I’ll come see you again, but once I really start to go, I don’t want any of you to see me like that.”

The thought that this might be the last she ever saw of Julian made Jadzia burst into tears, rough, fast ones that nearly ripped themselves out of her eyes. And now he was moving around and giving her a hug, he, who should be the one crying, not her, but she was just feeling so weak and worn, and she wanted to just spill everything, not even for the sake of making her request, but just so Julian would know, so there wouldn’t be that awful barrier between them.

“Oh, Jadzia,” he sighed, and pressed the chastest of kisses into her hair. “You know, for the first time, I’m happy you married Worf. I think…maybe you know why I wasn’t before this. But imagine if I was your husband, and now this was happening to he who you’d been planning to spend the rest of your life with. Now you’ll cry for me, but you’ll still have him, and your beautiful little boy…”

“Beautiful!” Even under the circumstances, Jadzia couldn’t help but snort through her tears. “You know most wouldn’t describe it that way.”

“He’s your son. Of course he’s beautiful.”

“You shouldn’t be talking to me like this,” sobbed Jadzia. “You shouldn’t feel like that about me. You should feel that way about…”

“About who?” It was his turn to snort. “About someone else that in a year’s time I’d then either make a widow or burden with a literal idiot husband who she’d have to divorce is she had any sense? No, I think things have worked out for the best.”

But you should never feel that way about yourself. Not even if he was about to die, not even then, because as far as Jadzia was concerned, Julian deserved the love and devotion she had never been able to give him, and the woman who would travel with him and nurse him to the bitter end and be thankful even in her grief that she’d gotten to have him.

Besides, if she’d married him, she wouldn’t have committed the sin she had. There wouldn’t have been a need, probably. But then again, she’d always known that marrying Julian would have led to her having a much easier life, even if she’d never given too much thought to it. She’d never made her choices based on what was easy.

And she wasn’t going to now, either. It would be easy, she thought, to explain everything. She thought if she did, Julian would give up the last months of his life, take the promotion and use it to save her and Worf. It was the logical thing to do, he would say; they had their entire lives to live out preserved from disaster; what was one year compared to that? Jadzia could tell herself that as well, repeat to herself that Julian had willingly made the choice, and also that she’d done what she’d had to do. She could do that every day for the rest of her life, and eventually, she thought, she wouldn’t even feel that guilty anymore.

But thinking about doing all that, taking advantage of this man, who had loved her for years, quietly and resignedly after he had been forced to give up all hope, who had acted as her friend and often confident, listening without complaint whenever she’d been mad at Worf, even helped them have Turink…it made Jadzia feel ill. She wasn’t going to do it, not even for this.

Except now Julian was looking at her and saying, “Is there anything you need to tell me? It looks to me like there is.” Nothing in his voice besides concern; he wasn’t even hoping for a declaration of feeling or anything like that.

“Nothing you need to worry about now,” she said. “Or should.”

“No, Jadzia,” he said. “I know you. You’re trying to spare me something, and please, don’t do that out of pity.”

“I can’t,” she protested. “I can’t take advantage of you. I’d be a monster if I did.”

“Jadzia, please, if you need my help…you ought to have known already I’d do anything for you, and that’s even more true now, when what would I lose by doing it?” He was getting up from his seat now, moving to kneel at her feet, and that sight was not one Jadzia was ever going to be willing to see. In a desperate move to stop him she grabbed him to pull him up, a desperate tiny please escaped her, and next thing she knew they were kissing, hard and deep.

It felt good, better than Jadzia had ever thought it might. Her hands found Julian’s face; his skin was soft. He didn’t even flinch from how cold she knew her hands were. His arms were around her, and he was kissing without shame, making tiny sounds into her mouth that Jadzia thought just might wreck her.

Some tiny voice in the back of her mind was yelling at her to pull back, but she wasn’t listening, not right now. Now instead she heard the blood roaring in her ears, the shifting of cloth against cloth, the overwhelming part of her brain that just wanted to go on kissing this man forever.

She didn’t even know how long they’d kissed for when they finally parted, foreheads still pressed together. She kept her eyes and hands on that flushed, panting face, tried to memorize the feel of it beneath her hands, since she knew she’d certainly never touch it again, even if she perhaps might again see it.

“There’s no one in my life who’s meant to me what you have,” he finally breathed. “Even if I had longer to live, I don’t know if there ever could be, though that doesn’t really matter now.” He shook his head. “I shouldn’t be troubling you with this part.”

“Quit acting like you’re now just a burden on the universe!” she cried, feeling even worse when he gently but firmly pushed away from her. “You never were and you never will be.”

But Julian was shaking his head. “If you don’t want my help, you should go. Before you possibly do something you’ll regret for the rest of your life.”

The crazy thing was, while she’d no doubt feel guilty afterwards, Jadzia wasn’t sure she would actually regret it. She knew she ought to, but some instinct warned her the feeling wouldn’t come, at least so long as Worf never found out.

So much where it would all be fine, just as long as her husband never found out.

It was that awareness, and the fear, that got Jadzia to do as he had said, to turn around and start walking out, the door barely getting open for her in time, fast enough there wasn’t time to feel any temptation to look back. For ten more minutes after even that she strode down the corridor, at least one ensign scurrying out of her way, putting more distance between herself and the man she still wasn’t sure she wouldn’t want to run back to if she stopped to think.

Eventually she began to tire; it had been a long day of worrying even before this. She slowed her pace down, but continued walking, making her way back to her quarters.

By the time she got there, she had relived that kiss three times, each time pushing it from her mind, knowing she needed to forget it had happened, even though she also knew she never would. Worf wouldn’t be in, she reminded herself. Turink wouldn’t either. No one would be in their quarters, and she would be safely alone to break down and cry and figure out how she was going to live even with losing Julian like this, let alone the even worse thing happening at the moment.

Except Nerys was there. Jadzia hadn’t even known she knew how to break through Starfleet locks. She was so shocked she was completely unable to speak as she just stood there, then at Nerys’ impatient gesture finally stepped forward just enough for the door to close behind her.

“I just had another exchange of messages with Worf,” she said. “I won’t even repeat what he said. Honestly, I’m starting to lose a lot of my respect for him. Enough that I really don’t feel bad about doing what I’ll have to do now.”

That just made Jadzia know what she herself now had to do. She wished she had a knife on her. Then she could’ve done it right away. But instead she could only hiss, “You won’t. I won’t let you. In fact, you’d better contact Worf right and now and tell him you’re about to lose all your power over him, because it’ll be gone with me!”

She hadn’t even finished talking before she started a purposeful stride towards the kitchenette, but before she could get more than a couple of meters Nerys, her resistance-fighter reflexes undulled by all the years that had passed, was in front of her, with a, “No, Jadzia, you’re not killing yourself.”

“You,” Jadzia growled, “do not get to act like you’re my friend anymore, especially not when you’re driving me to do this to protect my husband.”

“Fine, then. You kill yourself right now and I’ll frame him for murder.”

She obviously could, and at the moment, Jadzia couldn’t think of an immediate way to off herself which would make it impossible for Nerys to make it look like she’d been killed. She sagged, and said, “Well, I know what he said to you when you told him.”

“Told him? Oh,” Nerys shook her head. “Actually, I haven’t told him anything yet. He didn’t give me a chance. But the minute I get back to my quarters, I’m going to start writing a message to him. I don’t know if I’ll finish it tonight, but I’ll try. Do you know, if you kill yourself after I walk out of here, and I still go public with the story, anyone who even slightly believes in any of the Klingon stereotypes will find a way to blame him for it, even if they don’t think he did it himself?”

“You don’t get the chance to frame him, then what does that matter?” Jadzia could have laughed, had she felt less devastated. “He won’t care what any of them think.”

“But I think you would. And I’m pretty sure, sooner or later, that your son would.”

That last one stopped Jadzia’s thoughts in their tracks. Nerys could tell, too, and she pressed on: “You want to condemn him to grow up with two parents disgraced, one dead? And you know Worf needs help when it comes to raising children. Just look at the whole sequence of events that happened with his first son.”

“That wasn’t entirely his fault,” Jadzia growled, repeating the speech she’d made more than once. “His parents struggled with Alexander first.”

“Yeah, Alexander, who didn’t get along with his peers, who struggled with only being partially Klingon, and whose mother died a violent death when he was young. Sound familiar?”

It did, all too much. And then Nerys said, “But I do know one thing Worf would do, what any good parent would do. That’s protect his children at all costs. Even that of his honor.”

“You don’t know what Worf would do.” Not like Jadzia herself did.

“I worked alongside him, much more closely than you did, at times. I know enough. I know that I’ll get even more than my recommendation out of him now. That was all I would have demanded, you know, when this whole thing started. Foolish of me. I’ve thought since, of what will probably await me when I reach Earth. Don’t tell me they’ll want me there. I know they won’t. They might still grant me admission. From what I understand about Federation-Bajoran relations right now, they’ll probably worried Bajor will be offended if they don’t. I need all the paperwork in order, but if I get it, I get that much.

But do you really think they won’t look for any excuse, and I mean any, to throw me out once I get there? Or, if they can’t find one, they won’t make sure I never obtain any rank above Ensign? And I’ve worked too hard and lost too much-”

“Yeah,” Jadzia interrupted, her rage kicking in, “like all of your morals.”

But she was chilled to the bone by the complete lack of change in Nerys’ expression, and the cold way she replied, “You haven’t seen anything yet, Jadzia. You and Worf, you’ll both be dealing with me for a long time. I get expelled, it all comes out. And after I graduate, you’ll get me up to my old rank as fast as possible. Since the start of this, by the way, I’ve been hoping I might eventually get myself into a position where I can help Bajor, but then, I was worried the way things go at Starfleet, I might be old before I got that far. But you two, you’re going to get me there within a few years.”

“Are you truly going to try to justify yourself?!” Jadzia demanded, even more appalled. “When once, the Kira Nerys I knew…”

“The Kira Nerys you know had a history of doing sometimes violent things indeed when her planet was at stake,” she retorted. “Things that sometimes pushed the boundaries of interplanetary law, at the very least. I know you don’t like to remember that, of course, didn’t like to think of the fact that at one time I was a terrorist.”

“Only because you had to be. Bajor’s not going to be in that situation again.”

“You don’t know what’s going to happen on Bajor.” There was a very real resentment in the way she said that. “Even if the Cardassians aren’t really in shape to do what they once did to it again, no society recovers that quickly. And you saw what happened a year after the Occupation ended, and what’s happened most recently. For the record, Jadzia, I would give my life to prevent that from happening again.”

“That’s your life, not mine,” Jadzia protested. “That’s still at stake here.”

“Didn’t I just point out how killing yourself will do Worf no good? I’ll get what I want either way. And in fact, speaking of your marriage,” and there was something new her tone here, some hint of genuine regret, “don’t you think you should’ve told your husband about all of this, long ago?”

“You really don’t understand…”

“Maybe I don’t. But you know what, Jadzia? I’m going to do you one last favor, explaining this to him. I’ll even try to emphasize that you really felt you needed to do it to keep him alive. I do feel he ought not to be angry with you, though I suppose it’s too much to hope for he won’t be. At least you won’t have to keep any dark secrets from him anymore.”

Had she said only an hour ago, of course, that would’ve been true. And Jadzia certainly wasn’t telling her now why it no longer would be.

So instead she remained silent, as Nerys turned and walked out. The door was in the process of closing behind her when she turned and said, “You have six hours to tell him before I do.”

After stumbling into the nearest chair, for a few minutes, all Jadzia could do was cry. She thought of the life she’d planned to have, the things she might now not get to see, such as her son growing up. When she thought of what Nerys had just said, she found she wasn’t sure which option would be worse, Turink growing up with a mother who had committed suicide, or him growing up with parents disgraced by his father’s race, and both of them probably struggling to live with everything that had happened.

Anger kicked in next. Jadzia wanted to go out and yell at everyone. Nerys, Worf, the Klingon who had refused to not kill him when anyone with either sense or decency would’ve backed down, and everyone else she could even partly blame. She even thought uncharitably of Odo, of how if he hadn’t left the woman he’d supposedly loved so much and for so long, she might have avoided much of the downward spiral she’d gone down that had led them to this.

But then again, she found herself thinking, maybe she should be nicer to Odo. Because as she sat there, she came to realize that her next course of action had to be to disclose everything to someone, make a statement of truth they could attest to, and Odo was pretty much the only person she had for it.

So when she pulled herself up, her tears mostly dried, she went to comm him, to ask him to please come as quickly as possible.

Much to her relief, he answered only a couple of minutes later, saying he was on his way. But when Jadzia checked the chronometer, she discovered enough time had passed that Worf would soon be back as well.

And, unfortunately, it was her husband, rather than Odo, who walked in first. Somehow Jadzia found herself blurting out, “Nerys just said to me the two of you talked again.”

“Jadzia,” the warning tone in his voice was unmistakable, “I do not wish to further discuss this matter, and you ought not to waste your time when I will not change my mind.”

She shouldn’t have hoped for otherwise. But she still asked, “Just tell me what she said in response. I’m kind of worried she’s mad at me, but she didn’t give me anything to go on.”

“She ought not to have become that foolish. And she said very little in response, at least then, though she did indicate she might soon send me a message.”

Before Jadzia could even react to that, the doorchime sounded. “That’s probably Odo,” she said. “I just need to talk to him about something that came up in the lab today.” She’s in front of the door when it opens, and before he can speak she says, “Odo! So glad you got here so quickly. Let’s talk about the readings off those weird quartz stones out here; I’m not sure the commander wants me talking about them around anyone else, even my husband.”

When they were safely out in the corridor, he hissed at her, “And what if he happens to hear there aren’t any ‘weird quartz stones’ on the Starbase?”

“He won’t,” she replied. “He rarely pays attention to what I’m doing in the lab if something hasn’t given him a reason to. Do you have a communicator?”

“They gave me a handheld.” He pulled it out of a side pocket. “Who do you want me to contact? I…I don’t think I could do this with Nerys over a comm.”

“Noone. I just want you to record this and be able to testify to its veracity later, if that becomes necessary.”

“What? Commander, you…”

“Five years ago, when Worf and I escaped Dominion custody, he was asleep when we received a distress call from Yarmok III.” She told the entire story, holding up a hand whenever a shocked-looking Odo tried to interrupt, finishing, “Since then, Worf has never had any idea that any of this has happened. I hearby make it my dying declaration that all I have just said is true and accurate to the best of my knowledge and memory, and that Mr. Odo, who is making this recording, can attribute that it is not in any way doctored.” She then reached over and turned the communicator off.

“Your dying declaration?” Odo now sounded horrified.

“That makes it admissible in all Federation courts. I don’t know about Klingon ones, but I don’t think they’d be all that likely to outright charge Worf with anything; the biggest danger he’d be in legally would be a court-martial-and one look at this recording and they’d never go forward with it, what with all the other circumstances involved.”

Odo just shook his head. “Jadzia, you don’t intend to die, do you?!”

She has to explain this now, which she never thought she’d have to do, or maybe just really hoped. “Odo,” she said, “Nerys knows what happened; I don’t even know how she found out, but it doesn’t really matter. And she’s…” This is really going to break his heart. “The things she suffered while you were gone, the state it reduced her to…she is now threatening to make this public. In which case…” Here came the part she could only really half explain. “Worf would do something wonderful, and miraculous, and that I couldn’t stand to live with him having done, because he would do it for me. I couldn’t stand to live with it.”

“And yet it’s wonderful and miraculous?” Odo was just shaking his head.

Maybe she could’ve explained it if she’d had more time. But it was only so long before Worf would come out to check on them. Even now, she was trying to figure out what to say to him when they came back in.

After another moment, Odo said, “Listen, Jadzia, maybe it still doesn’t have to come to that. I may know that Nerys went through a good deal, but I still can’t believe she truly wants to do this to you, that she wouldn’t maybe listen if I tried to talk to her. It’s worth a shot, I think."

Normally Jadzia would’ve hesitated, would’ve not wanted to put Odo through that if he still wasn’t ready. But at this point she was truly desperate. And anyway, it might ultimately be very good for them both to finally talk.

“All right,” she said. “She’s given me six hours before she contacts Worf.”

As if this last utterance of his name had summoned him, the doors to their quarters slid back open, and her husband peered outside. Before he could ask, Jadzia quickly put her smile back on, saying, “Odo and I are just wrapping up the serious business for the day, and now if you want to have him over for dinner…” Probably he’d say no.

But to her surprise, he said, “Very well.”

It was all right, she told herself. It would only be a couple of hours. After that he’d still have time.

[wheredafuqischristine]

Fresh Sheets

(February 2019)

Trigger warning: suicide

Double trigger warning: long read (but it's like a story!)

The last few months have been an wild journey into my mental health. Turns out it’s #BellLetsTalk season, so let’s go.

I was in my kitchen, holding a knife. I asked my grandfather how to sharpen it. I was hoping I could use it to end my life. I was also in third grade of elementary school.

My first major depression dates from almost two decades ago (I am 25). At the time, I was seeing a psychologist to treat a severe case of trichotillomania, the “bad habit” of relentlessly plucking hair out of your body. This would be my earliest symptom of anxiety.

Soon after trich started manifesting itself, I was out of eyebrows or eyelashes to pluck, and a downward spiral initiated itself. After all, who wants to be friends with someone that barely looks human? Even the adults around me couldn’t understand my behaviour, adding to the shame I felt.

Today, I still manifest trichotillomania.

Over the years, I taught myself to minimize the “damage” so it wouldn’t affect other areas of my life. The most noticeable thing about my trich now is how well maintained my eyebrows are.

Unbeknownst to me though, depression and anxiety never really went away after that first episode in third grade. In my mind, I was simply a super sensitive person that cried a lot, needed a lot of sleep, and that that’s simply what I had to deal with.

Who am I to claim that I have mental issues when so many people live lives harder than mine? Do I think I’m special, or what? Anyways, isn’t life is just hard, no matter who you are? Doesn’t everyone want to end it every once in a while? Isn’t this normal?

The answer is no, apparently. I found out last fall, after I had a suicidal impulse that was so strong, I thought I would actually go through with it. It scared me, so I took a life break, went back home to Ottawa and made use of the Ontarian health care system.

Life is painful. It is difficult to live and survive. I was so tired, so sick of being tired. So tired of being in pain.

After meeting the doctor, I was both in shock and relieved. My diagnosis however, did not surprise anyone in my family. Chronic dysthymia (a form of persistent mild depression - never being able to feel good), major depression and severe anxiety were what I was (am) dealing with.

Doc prescribed me psychotherapy, but that wasn’t going to be enough. She insisted I needed medication.

I needed pills. For my head.

And I. Did not. Want pills.

Pills scared me. I’ve seen people become addicted to pills, lose their spark, become zombies, suicidal even. I didn’t want to rely on pharmaceuticals to treat a part of my personality. Anyway, if you become depressed because you lost your job, a pill isn’t going to get you another job… ?

But no single event could be tied back to the mental health problems I had been exhibiting for almost two decades, meaning there was something deeper going on.

Doc eventually convinced me to give the pills a try : “You’ve had these symptoms for almost all your life, you will likely have them forever. Don’t you deserve to feel good at some point? I’ll give you something that is very low risk. Try for one month and then come back.”

And so began my journey with antidepressants. For now, it is going much better than I expected. Suicidal thoughts are no longer intruding my daily life. I have energy to go through my day, because now, I can generally go through a whole night without waking up. It didn't kill my creativity, it enlivened it! I still have all the magical stuff in my brain that I had before, the difference now is that I have the energy to exteriorize it, Things in life are just easier to handle.

I am on my way to seek psychotherapy. On my way to talk through my relationship with trauma, sensitivity, sadness and joy. On my way to creating my own tools. On my way to recovery.

It feels great to know that such a thing (recovery) may actually be possible - that things can get better, that I can feel better. (By the way, if you have any recommendations for therapists in Montreal, hit me up!)

That being said, not everything accompanying me on this road to recovery has been prescribed by the doctor. Look at these photos… they are who inspired me to write this post.

From strays to fosters to adopted and cared for, my mom says I am making a big difference in their lives. Truth is, they are making a big difference in mine.

They come say hi to me when I walk in. They accompany me where I go (even if the intention sometimes is to taste human food). They love to cuddle and give kisses. They can often be found cuddling me and requesting I pet them. They are also very playful - but make sure you entertain them before they decide to entertain themselves!!

Mostly, these cats fill my heart with love... the best therapy?

Anyway. Why did it take me so long to come forward with this? Did I think I was begging for attention? Did I think it’s shameful to talk about personal problems? Did I think it was a burden on others to talk about my issues?

Hopefully writing this can help de-stigmatize mental illness and make someone out there feel less alone. You can come talk to me if that’s the case.

Thanks for reading <3

[hollowedrpg]

CONGRATULATIONS, ROBYN! — You’ve been accepted for the role of Arthur Weasley. Your application was honestly a dream. I love, love, love how you expanded on how Arthur’s speech impediment affected his growth, and the man he’s become. The way you delve into his relationship with Molly, and with their children just allowed me to disappear into his character. I can’t wait to see where you take him from here.

Thank you so much for applying. Please create your account and send in the link, track the right tags, and follow everyone on the follow list. Welcome to Hollowed Souls!

ooc.

name:

robyn

age:

21

pref pros:

she/her

timezone:

GMT (wales)

activity:

I’m working full time but other than that I should be around daily to interact.

how do you feel about your character dying?:

I’d be gutted because Arthur has already been dealt a bit of a shitty hand (what with everything in the Mols/Gid/Fab realm) but such is war and that’s this world.

anything else?:

WHERE’S MY WIFFEEEEEEEE :(( — jk he’s just suffering already :D

ic details.

full name:

Arthur Septimus Weasley

date of birth:

5th february 1950

former hogwarts house:

Ravenclaw - A boy who could be heard without words, who can command attention from his peers? tell me he’s not here to prove himself with his knowledge of other languages or pour himself into non-verbal magic to provide himself with a voice that can not be ignored. For an individual that has never been thoughtless, Hogwarts freed him from any social restraints he put on himself, the house of the curious facilitated the growth of that character, to ask questions where he felt things were unjust or provide an answer to those that challenged him. It leads perfectly into his role within the Ministry as he attempted to introduce legislature to protect and normalise muggle culture.

(I have always been irritated at the trope-y excuses for the Weasley’s being Gryffindors,Art screams Ravenclaw to me, lemme know what you think)

sexuality:

heterosexual

gender/pronouns:

cis male, he/him

face claim change:

i’m happy with sam if you are

more.

how do you interpret this character’s personality? how will you play them? include two weaknesses & two strengths.

Art is that guy that you turn to when you need someone to hear you out or have a be with. He’s a rock because he has his world laid ahead of him, his marriage is absolutely water tight and his children are the light of his life. Shake that up and you’ve shaken his core sense of stability. With Molly gone… He’s lost in the hope for her to come back to them all, to their children, to him.

Therefore his strengths look like:

Homemaker/Comforter: He and Mol built the Burrow for themselves before the children were even a whisper in their subconscious, and now he strives for the familiarity and comfort that his home gave even strangers. Godric’s Hollow is a taboo place, in a horrendous situation, but Arthur turns the dingiest corners into little nooks for the boys or respite for those around them all. Hopefully everyone benefits from smaller icons of what home could be and where it could be found again.

Defender: Arthur’s decision to join the Order was not only to protect the ones he holds dearest, but those that need help. He is no pawn to be played with and whilst he feels he has made the biggest mistake by not taking his children and wife and leaving, Arthur knows Molly will come back to him. His knowledge in defensive magic will grow broader as he seeks to understand the darker twists and turns of runic magic and strengthening wand-less charms and hexes for the purpose of duelling. What else could he do with the time where the kids are asleep?

And his weaknesses look like:

Sightless: People may’ve picked up on the speech impediment, something he’s navigated for years but he’s currently blinded. Not physically of course, but things have occurred and who knows what is happening to those missing. Arthur is a certified knot of chaos, and is only just realising that it’s detrimental to his and his children’s safety. He’s too caught in what was and cannot accept a future without his wife and friends. It’s a lot for everyone right now, but he cannot drag himself from the searing pain of what looks to be the future. Unlike others, Arthur is finding it incredibly difficult to move forwards without his stabilising people. To have lost his brother-in-law, and not know whether his other brother-in-law, and wife, has annihilated any sense of security.  

Unamenable: In the sense that he hates the pity that others cast him whilst desperately requiring the support he needs for his own wellbeing and that of his children. It’s something that he needs to get over yesterday in order to survive as a parent, it isn’t weak to accept the criticism of those around him.

how has the war affected this character, emotionally and otherwise?

His blood runs cold when he can’t see all of his children. Every morning he wakes up and forgets in those two seconds that Molly isn’t going to be soft under his arms, he’s content, but then he remembers. Arthur has stopped being the warm, inviting, individual that he was once acclaimed, and is now succinct with a worn nod or an obligated line of a smile. Opening up to the new people he’s put in close proximity with isn’t his game, and instead of offering stories to lighten the mood, he listens to everyone and everything he can. He observes more so now than ever and people can assume it’s because he has a speech impediment or that he’s grief stricken because his family are missing or because he’s preoccupied with his children. Arthur isn’t at Godric’s Hollow out of choice, he’s there because he couldn’t think of a better place to be with his children. He’s incredibly thankful but doesn’t trust people’s intentions, Arthur is aware that he can be used a tool in the machine and is biding his time until someone calls upon him.

where does this character currently stand? with those who wish to hide in godric’s hollow until the war ends, with those who wish to rebuild the order and continue fighting the war, or on neither side? why?

Arthur’s as conflicted as most. Stay in the quiet with the boys and lay low, stay protected where flicks of ginger haired aren’t sought out to match their mother’s. Yet there’s a fire in him that yearns to fight and flicker from the ashes and embers, to go and fight for Molly. And he so bitterly finds himself wishing that they would’ve waited longer for the children’s sake because if there were no children they could’ve fought harder at the immediate. She wouldn’t have been lost. He shouldn’t have been a coward and told her to go alone… He’s a mass dichotomy, no one move seems to have a balanced return, he always seems to lose.

It’ll take time but he will realise that he needs to listen to his gut and fight forwards, to set an example that good does prevail when it’s smart and strong enough. For now, they’re all exhausted and Arthur’s very much caught in that state of mind also.

With Molly missing, how is Arthur managing taking care of his children and continuing to be a part of the Order? Does he feel like he should remain a part of the Order?

He knows that he has obligations to the Order because after all, they are housing his children, using resources that should be reserved for those that are actively fighting. However, they accepted that strain and he will serve as best as he can. Currently Arthur is attempting to school his children with what books are littered through Godric’s Hollow and provide structure and normalcy where there seems to be none.

Art knows the Order need people who are dedicated to lose their lives for this, for others, and more importantly for the future, but he just isn’t sure if that is something that he can actively promise or provide to any degree.

Although he continues to read and further his skills to the point where he either decides to move the children and fight with the Order or leave Godric’s Hollow and take off with them.

extra.

here you can list or add any extras you created to get a sense of this character. that can include graphics, writing samples, mock blogs, etc. apps that have extras won’t have an advantage over apps that don’t, although it can help me further understand your grasp of the character.

00/00/52 Molly

05/02/50 Arthur

29/11/70 Bill

12/12/72 Charlie

22/08/76 Percy

01/04/78 George

01/04/78 Fred

01/03/80 Ron

11/08/81 Ginny

_________________________________________________________________

“Do not listen with the intent to reply. But with the intent to understand.”

Fingertips pressed to the tip of his thumb, orderly and silent within his pocket. Listen, watch, observe Arthur, it’s the fastest track to becoming a wiser man. Advice from his father, a stoic, genius of a man. He’s taught Arthur secrets about morality and how to keep his tongue in his head before he had even considered the evils of the world. It was priceless information to have instilled into you at a younger age - especially with the Weasley name carrying blood traitor status.

However it took a time for everyone to realise that words were caught struggling to tumble from his mouth, tripping on his tongue. Fighting their way through monetary issues meant that Cedrella and Septimus Weasley were incredibly busy people whilst Arthur was younger. Both working tirelessly in order to make ends meet, and of course they did, but at the extent of Arthur never really being able to realise the frustrations of having a speech impediment until he took interest in attempting to say new words at the age of five. He should’ve been talking for longer than that but it was a combination of being busy and Arthur naturally being quiet that allowed his disability to go unrecognised.

And so began the speech therapy with a diagnosis for developmental verbal dyspraxia. His speech went from incorrect stresses to monotone, breath control allowed Art to imagine the music he had heard and loved so dearly and breathe to it, suddenly he was starting to flourish. In the meantime, he was introduced to sign language in the therapist’s waiting room, and of course he was intrigued. Talking without words? It seemed like the ultimate solution and so he delved into books and taught himself to sign in the mirror. He wasn’t fluent with expressions and developing a less mechanical place until he made friends with a few deaf children. They filled the gaps in his knowledge and he was a new friend for them to play with. It was exactly what he needed to realise that he could manage without clear language, that he could make others hear him. And these children were muggle, without magic to aid their communication.

Arthur was so excited to be surrounded in magic that he started reading the texts at the age of ten, the anticipation made him nervous beyond belief, knowing that incantations would be his fall. Instead he read the theory of the magic, practising the movements and prayed that by the time he got to Hogwarts, he would just need time to breathe through the incantations. Thankfully he was sorted into Ravenclaw, a house that fed his traits of listening but nurtured the need to ask questions, he began to reach out to his peers and ask more. And they listened, sometimes baffled by his lack of intonation, sometimes reaching out to sign themselves, it was a house of curiosity and endless questions so of course Arthur was forced to be more communicative.

Whilst it wasn’t a cure all, it was what he needed to develop into the individual that would speak out against what he thought was wrong and stand strongly for what he believed to be right.

__________________________________________________________________

“Wit beyond measure is a man’s greatest treasure.”

“RAVENCLAW!”

Red hair felt out of place on the Ravenclaw table. Warmed by a firm hand on the shoulder, his heart pounding in his chest as he looked at the faces beaming at one another, wondering what the first years might bring to the house. His quiet at the table was easily accepted and ears tentatively picking up names and hobbies. As he turned in his bed, his stomach was full of dread at the realisation of the title to live up to - the innovators and path makers. Arthur swallowed the fear of inadequacy as he rolled again, restlessness was a new thing to one so young.

It was only a week before another signed hello to him, something he hadn’t even clocked as he returned the gesture but was immediately dumbfounded as it came to the front of his mind. It earned a grin from across the room and finally he was settled in his new home, with others hungry to learn from their peers and fill gaps in their familiarity. Despite it turning out that the other thought he was deaf, Art still greatly appreciated the act of kindness, and it instilled in him to give time to others. He hadn’t tried that hard with those around him since he had been surrounded by kids at speech therapy, but this pushed him.

A mention of a charms club had him asking questions to a fifth year student who laughed at him but shrugged and jotted down the directions to a second floor classroom. His magic had never thrived more than when charged with excitement, and Art was soon to be questioned on how he was so proficient. Why was he so proficient? And so his slow explanation was spoken aloud, a rarity to the 11 year old, but others heard him and laughed, wondering if he was going to do their homework for him.

Ravenclaw is his spiritual home. It nurtured him not only with knowledge, but with opportunity. It gifted him the bollocks to ask Molly out. Ravenclaw bequeathed him the strength to shrug off ridiculous name calling and sneers about his sympathy towards non-magical possessing individuals. His core was absolute and clad with the experiences that he held dearest, to support and nurture. To defend. To listen, to learn before marching blindly. Arthur’s morality was furthered in Ravenclaw, it wasn’t borne in the house, but it was watered to full blossom. No longer a seed under fresh soil, but a sunflower tall and looking for light where seemed little.

__________________________________________________________________

“Eos ipsos defendere non possunt defendamus”

(Let us defend those who are unable to defend themselves)

Arthur fell in love with Molly. Molly fell in love with Arthur. Everyone knew that was the story, they could see it in the fond glances and touches that lingered, savouring one another. They were the couple that you almost couldn’t imagine not being together, complete yin and yang. One was burned hot and vibrant where the other ran cool and calm, pacing was better for the both of them as the realised how well the other benefited their lives.

People didn’t see the arguments about having children immediately or wanting to travel or the small pause that happened just after they bought the Burrow. It wasn’t for people to see. They certainly didn’t see the months long conversation about joining the Order or what it would do to their family. What it would do to them and for what? A cause?

“Protecting who at what cause?!”

It made sense now.

But of course there was a part to the yin and yang that absolutely reassured Arthur everyday he woke up. Because for over a decade he had given to loving Molly Prewett, he had received her love back, he was now a piece of her. He would know if she had died. He had to know. It wasn’t fabled that people collapsed out of the blue despite not knowing their significant other had passed. It couldn’t have been. He would hold Ginevra in his arms every night whispering promises of returning her to her mother, of offering the comfort of her touch, and there were nights when his daughter was his only comfort whilst he sobbed alone, defeated and exhausted.

“Children! Families! People with those to lose!”

The memory of the argument alone made him stoic and calmed his fears as much as it screamed his guilt in silent moments of thought. An odd juxtaposition but he was as determined as he was when the words had left his lips. All of them had but one goal to move through this. They would find her, because that was what they were all here to do - what they had to do.

__________________________________________________________________

“Other things may change us, but we start and end with family.”

Charlie. Percy. Fred. George. Ron. Where’s the baby?! WHERE’S T- Ginny.

Morning mantras were never reminding yourself that your children were alive and surrounding you, they were the eggs and bacon?

Or porridge?

No, Dad! I want toast.

It wasn’t always a tightened chest when he heard a clatter of locks changing whilst his children played across the room from him, an instant flash of hands to check that they were all aware to be respectful of those around them. He had never quietened their noise as he did so now… Not that they were louder than most’s speaking level. It still was unnatural to see his eldest pick up the younger ones when Arthur moved in front of them when somebody unexpected entered the room.

Watching his children grow up aware that they were all targets. Now that was stomach churning, to see their fight or flight in real time instead of in tag or when they were scared because they’d broken a glass.

Art was exhausting his imagination in order to provide fun alternatives for them to play or take their minds away from the cold reality. They were now learning how to write their wishes and new words and spells. Art was worried for his children getting to an age where they needed proper magical tuition, whether they would leave for Hogwarts as Bill had, how would they channel their magic initially without wands. Could he guide them through that?

What would Molly do?

His heart burned for his eldest son. He just wasn’t enough for everyone and that was the problem, wasn’t it? Arthur felt like he was letting his boy down by leaving him away from the rest of his siblings but it was the safest place for him. Perhaps safer than his siblings. It was the question that wracked his head - should he collect Bill from Hogwarts so that he was safe with everyone? How could he protect him when he was miles away? Would he be able to protect another child, especially one so desperate to protect his siblings… Molly would be so irritated at that thought. Or maybe she would be furious that he still waited, that he hadn’t taken them already. His mind buzzed light the air in a storm, but at least his words weren’t yet electric and sharp to others. Instead he exhaled and shook out the distress, heaving sighs in hopes of removing the weight crushing his chest.

Self doubt was an evil bastard and he was consumed with the what-ifs and the when’s instead of the right-here’s and the nows.

DAD!!!!

He had been waiting for it. Percy was writing letters to his grandmother when Charlie had stolen a rubber band and thwacked it across the room, hitting his brother on the side of the head. Arthur stifled a laugh whilst he watched Molly take a rather purposeful sip of tea to hide her smile before correcting the behaviour.

Dad?

Art blinked, staring at a frowning George, tuning back into the room. His son had been so hesitant, the boys were very patient with both him and Ginny in the absence of their mother. They wanted home as much as he did, but at least their space was slowly becoming more comfortable and their drawings were brightening Godric’s Hollow as small gifts to the others that sat and read stories with them all. He just hoped that this wouldn’t become their usual and he could return to the home he had made for his family.

__________________________________________________________________

AFTER THOUGHT:

(Muse is something that develops in scenario for me personally and I am stoked for the plot of this RP to reinvent the Arthur I’ve written for years. Hence how face value the answers are, but hit me up if you want more drabble or to further move through the points, I just want the chance to do this organically through interaction.)

[phroyd]

I’m walking up Lexington Avenue towards the subway on a cold Manhattan winter day from my psychiatrist’s office. It’s a route I’ve walked for five years, at varying frequencies, depending on the intensity of my mental health issues.

My doctor is warm and nurturing with a great sense of humor, and I always walk out her door with a smile on my face. But once I hit the street, my mood can quickly shift: frustrated that I need yet another medicine to achieve some semblance of normalcy or disappointed in myself that I can’t cope. I scan the faces of the crowds in busy Midtown. Can they tell I’m crazy? Do they see some vacant look in my eyes I can’t see? Or, conversely, I wonder about them: is she, that pulled-together woman over there, also buoyed by a bevy of psychiatric meds?

When I started an anti-depressant four years ago, I immediately started calling it my “crazy pill.” I want to say that’s just because I have a self-deprecating sense of humor, but that’s not the whole truth. Deep down, I thought it was because I was crazy.

But this time leaving her office was different. My doctor used the words “in recovery,” (probably not the first time she used the phrase) and something inside me shifted. Of course I’m in recovery. I suffered myriad traumas last year: losing my mom, my job, needing to give up my dog, and, hey, let’s throw a summer fling breakup in there for fun. Needing to take medicine to recover from emotional trauma should be the same as if I had been in a car accident and needed painkillers…right?

The word recovery resonated with me, and I finally internalized this: depression is a very real condition, and my doctor is treating me for it. I’ve written that depression can be like an emotional cancer—entirely pervasive and something that may go away. Or it may worsen.

On the outside, I pen essays, like this one, where I tell others that they should treat depression and other mental illness just as if it were any other disease. That it shouldn’t hold stigma. And I meant it…for them.

But why the double standard? Why would I be proud, even, to hear a friend was taking care of her health and taking antidepressants—but think that it made me crazy?

“Women hold themselves to this standard where we’re supposed to be ‘perfect,’” says Dr. Carly Snyder, a Manhattan-based psychiatrist. “We all have our own image of what that should be, and it doesn’t involve taking an antidepressant.”

In our culture, memes abound about wine being “mommy juice,” yet “there’s still stigma in trying to feel better in an appropriate way,” Snyder says. “’I’m seeking treatment for an anxiety disorder or depression’ becomes seen as ‘I couldn’t hack it on my own.’”

For me, I see others dealing with grief or job loss “better” than me, and I wonder what’s wrong with me. I’m doing all the “right” things: I ran the NYC Marathon (my seventh marathon) last year, I picked up personal training and yoga teaching certifications this year, and I have tried every last wellness trend known to woman in hopes that crystals, or maybe hypnosis, will be my magic bullet.

“We are in a really positive wellness kick right now [societally], and there’s a sense of ‘I didn’t do enough to help my mental health issues,’” says Snyder. Yet, ���if someone were struggling with another disorder, a physical disorder, people wouldn’t say not to take care of it. Running is not going to get you out of a major depressive episode.” I constantly joke that if running a marathon isn’t enough to cure a depressive episode, maybe I just need to run an ultramarathon, but I know that’s not actually the answer.

But while a 50K isn’t the answer, it is important to care for our bodies to care for our brains, says Snyder. (In case you forgot—your brain is a part of your body!) “It’s important to give one’s self the leeway to not feel OK and realize it’s a process to feel better.” People with depression tend to see the world in black and white, and if you wake up every day and say: “I’ll feel better today,” then as soon as you don’t, it becomes a bad day, according to both Snyder and my own experience. “There has to be room for disappointment and some gray area—and allowance for time of healing. It’s not going to happen overnight in the presence of significant illness and trauma.” She likens it to a bad bruise: it can come on quickly but take a long time to go away.

If you’re already depressed though, that still sounds bleak. You want immediate gratification, right? Of course you do. Here’s the thing: we have control, and we’re not failures for having depression and anxiety. (Take a minute and write that down or say it out loud. Let it really sink in.)

You don’t have to let your mood disorder dictate your self-worth or how you see the world—things I was guilty of. I identified myself as a depressed person, I threw my hands up in the air and blamed depression for my behavior. Snyder says that “when we are depressed, we deprive ourselves: I don’t deserve to feel better, I don’t need to feel better. There’s this bleakness that comes in. You know in your heart that this is not what it feels like to live in your day-to-day life, but it becomes harder to see a way out.”

But you win, she says, by taking control—by going to therapy, by going to a psychiatrist, by not listening to that voice in your head that says you don’t deserve it.

And although I’ve been treated for years—through therapy, medication, hospitalization and myriad holistic approaches, some legit, some snake oil—it was only on that cold day that I finally internalized it, that I really believed I deserved to feel better, and that depression was an actual diagnosis I had that needed to be treated. I saw my psychiatrist as a partner in my recovery, rather than someone who held all the power to cure me via her prescription pad.

This realization took some of the power from the disease and allowed me to (eventually) reframe subsequent flares as just that, something that might happen to anyone with a chronic illness.

Phroyd