#every sickness and mental illness i had has disappeared because of this

[marcop0los]

I've been staring at this for hours. it's wonderful

Pages 5-8

Pages 1-4 here

Jojo moots still here? hi? ignore the sudden change in style and quality its been uh *checks watch* an entire year and ive gotten over my perfectionism since then

[inosukijiro]

𝗖𝗨𝗗𝗗𝗟𝗘𝗦 𝗪𝗜𝗧𝗛 𝗚𝗜𝗬𝗨𝗨

𝙨𝙮𝙣. ━ its late at night and giyuu feels safe in your arms.

━ 𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙨. i just want to tuck him into bed so bad and give him lil forehead kisses. i won’t stop saying it I LOVE THIS MAN 🗣️🗣️.

━ 𝙖𝙙𝙙𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙖𝙡 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙨. AHH IM SORRYYY ˚‧º·(˚ ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ )‧º·˚ PLS i went on vacation and got the covid,, it was SO bad i couldn’t function. buuuut moving on — i’ve said it before but ill say it again, thank you soo much for all the love and support ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝ seriously, all the likes and reblogs have me very humble. i only ever write for myself so seeing you all enjoy my little stories make me so happy !!

━ 𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨. fluffy fluff. cuddles! probably v short, and v bad omg. gender-neutral reader. giyuu-centric. assumed but not mentioned, modern reader in kny. crochet mention ah! 0.9k words.

It always starts like this when Giyuu can’t think straight. His brain is fuzzy and worn out from the day. He often wonders how he gets into these positions, but he’s aware that you just know him too well. Probably because you do know him better than he knows himself.

He always thinks about the time before it became you and him. Where the thought itched at his brain constantly. He fantasized about it. It was so hard not to in every waking moment, he even wondered if it was going to be the death of him.

But here he was, nose buried in the crevice of your neck, laying onto you just enough that he didn’t crush you; but you’d never complain if he did. His free arm wrapped around your midsection just enough to allow his hand to grip your side. The pads of his fingers barely dig into your skin. You could probably feel the tension in his body, his hands are firm and rigid against you. Perhaps he’s just a bit nervous you’d disappear if he didn’t hold onto you tight enough. He might apologize for that, or the fact that his hair is definitely in your face.

Oh, but you might giggle. He can hear it. It’s soft and light. You're so amused by him sometimes. You might call him silly, or you might not say anything at all. You might give the sensitive part of his scalp a good scratch to shut him up. You might, and you always do. The feeling of your nails dig into his head makes him squeak. The way your fingers brush against the strands of his hair. It’s heavenly. He buries his head deeper because he’s so embarrassed. His face is hot, and after all this time he’s still so touched-starved. The smallest bit of your attention destroys any functioning brain cells he has left.

It’s just so good being in your arms. It’s just as good as when you're in his. It’s rare, but when that happens he loves the weight of you on top of him. It grounds him back down to earth. And you’re so cute. Somehow you always end up holding his hand, holding it close to your chest and nuzzling yourself against him more. He can’t get over that you want to be around him as much as he wants to be around you.

Giyuu lets out a sigh in contentment.

He’s so tired but he’s so excited. It’s not his fault that he views you as perfection and it’s also not his fault for taking advantage of the attention you desperately want to give him. You’re so generous, and Giyuu had been looking forward to this for days. His mission had been taking too long for his liking and he wondered if this was some sick torment the universe enjoyed toying at him with. All he wanted was to be at his estate, with you.

But you were such a night owl and that was something that Giyuu found out pretty quick. You spent more time awake in his presence than he did with you. Giyuu thinks, and he wouldn’t be wrong, that you try to savor as much time as you can with him. It’s true, you wouldn’t deny it. But you had sleeping problems long before being with Giyuu; though, it makes him feel guilty that he somehow makes it worse.

You were crocheting something, as always, trying to tire yourself out mentally. Your hands working on the project were raised just above his face, and your elbow could be found resting against his upper back. It was so soothing, the way he could feel you working your hook in and out of the stitches. And every so often a stray piece of yarn might’ve brushed against his cheek or nose, tickling him ever so slightly.

It felt nice. The way you had him caged in your arms. He felt so protected and Giyuu couldn’t remember the last time he felt so safe.

He doesn’t know what you’re making; but he’s sure whatever it is will be perfect.

One day he’d get you to sleep though. Yes, he’d get you to drift off so peacefully and do the same to bring you just as much comfort that you do for him. He’d play with your hair. He knows you’d like that. He can almost see it now. The cute noises you’d make and the content, sleepy sigh you’d give as he has you wrapped up in his arms.

He’s in and out of sleep now, drifting off for a few minutes at a time. But he really can’t stay awake anymore. Even though he really wants to. He feels you put your crochet things to the side. However, he barely registers the mumble under your breath when the metal hook makes a ‘TINK’ sound when it’s placed.

It wasn’t too loud but it was too loud for you. You apologize, softly whispering to him but honestly, Giyuu doesn’t know what for. It didn’t disturb him, though he doesn’t worry too much about it when you give a little kiss on his forehead.

He snuggles closer, if that is even possible at this point. He’s on auto pilot as you bring the covers up more over the both of you. You tuck the material right up near his chin and the only thought he has is how cruel it was to make him get up tomorrow morning. Maybe you give him a few more kisses. They’re delicate and you even give him a gentle squeeze as you bring your arms around him; a small ‘love you’ is drowsily whispered through your lips as you rest your head on his.

And Giyuu is out, just like that.

thank u for reading, luv u (◍•ᴗ•◍)

[oval3000]

Chapter 5

Yandere Teacher Nanami x Student Reader

Warning: Abuse, (force) smut. Abduction, violence, rough play, toxic behavior, age gap, everything from all above. Mainly from his point of view...somewhat... modern au- ish idk. College teacher x student.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 6

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

"Mr. Nanami?" A man in a suit knocked on his classroom door. Nanami was grading some paperwork before his next class. He turned to the side and saw the man alongside some police officers." I hope we're not interrupting you? I'm detective Aki, this is officer Yamada and officer Fujikawa. We want to ask questions about one of your students, (Y/N)."

"Sir." Nanami stood as the man and two police officers entered, closing the door. Nanami knew this day would come. How could he not know? "Of course. Miss (Y/n) hasn't attended my classes for the past month.

"That's why we're here. Her friend had filed a missing person's report on her and we just want to know if you may know anything regarding her disappearance." The detective said.

"The last time I saw her, was when she was sitting on one of the campus benches. I asked her if everything was alright and she told me she was waiting for her ride." He explained. " She seemed a little down and mentioned something about an ex-boyfriend. I've dealt with many of my students who were dealing with hard breakups so I didn't think too much of it."

"Ex-boyfriend?" The detective said.

"Yes. I don't know his name it was never said, but she did mention an ex-boyfriend and by the look of it, it's not something she seemed happy about." Nanami looked at the detective as he jotted down what he was saying.

"Was she acting strange while attending your classes before her disappearance? Did she seem a little down?" Aki asked.

"No. She was a normal student. In fact, she was my best student. Although she had trouble with one assignment, she would stay after her classes for help. Other than that, she was fine. However, I am a teacher with many students, so I might've not pay too much attention to her because of the others, who might be in the same position as her. College is college. Nothing changes." Nanami fixed his glasses and sighed. "Her family must be worried sick if she hasn't shown up." Nanami asked, almost looking a bit sad.

Aki raised his eyebrow. "Have you noticed her disappearance?"

"I did at first. She never missed a class ever. Then again. I have many students who don't bother showing up for months."

"Why is that?" He asked.

"They want to give up. Math is too hard. Struggling with mental illness. I've been working here for ten years, I've seen at all." Nanami sighed, looking down at his papers. "Sadly, no matter what I do, I can't always fix their problems when it's out of my reach. I should've asked Miss. (Y/N), about what was bothering her that day. That was my mistake."

Aki looked at Nanami, who still kept a normal composer. "So her disappearance wasn't too strange for you?"

"Like I said, at first it did. Then again, it's not the first time a student stopped showing up here. I guess I was wrong about that." Nanami raised his eyebrows. "Has anyone seen her since then?" He asked so concerned.

"No, we're working on a timeline on who might've. So far, you're the last person who has seen her. However, no one mentioned an ex-boyfriend before." Aki tapped his little notepad with his pen.

"Oh. it makes sense now." Nanami scratched his head.

"What makes sense?" Aki questioned.

"When she mentioned the ex-boyfriend, it went like this." He hummed, " 'My ex-boyfriend is a jerk who only thinks about himself. We were hardly boyfriend and girlfriend since we dated for three months.' It was confusing to me. I don't know what these young adults think now about relationships; now there is a thing called situationship' or whatever it's called. Every day, I hear students talk about their 'situationship'—are they boyfriend and girlfriend? I don't know what kids are up to these days." He explained. "I was puzzled because, aren't boyfriend and girlfriend, boyfriend and girlfriend? Now, I realize, it must've been one of those situations where you're just with a guy, just cause, with no title. Now it makes sense why it's called situationship'. Either way, it can still break someone's heart. Maybe that's why no one mentioned him; it didn't seem like what they saw was a relationship. Nonetheless, for Miss (Y/n), it must've been more than that, but it was overlooked."

"Did she mention anything about this ex-boyfriend or lover she had?" The detective asked, jotting down as much information as he got.

"No. She was on her phone during the little conversation we had so it was cut short. I swear those kids are always on their phones like they're addicted to them." Nanami picked up his papers and hit them on the desk countertop to straighten them in place. He checked his watch and saw the time. "My next class is about to start. Is there anything I can help with?"

The detective closed his notepad, "No that'll be all for today. Thank you, Mr. Nanami." He shook his hand and headed his way out alongside the two officers.

"Oh! Please tell (Y/N)'s family my condolences. She's one of my students here. Hope she's found soon." Nanami said.

The detective gave him a sympathetic smile, "Sadly, her parents died recently, in a car accident. I'll tell her friend though, she's worried sick about her."

Nanami went back to teaching his class. He went on to be a normal regular teacher. He saw the detective and two officers roaming around, talking to other students and teachers. He kept his usual face and went on with his day. He would hear his colleagues about you, how they're saddened that you just vanished.

Some came up and spoke to Nanami since you were in his class, and he gave them the same type of response he gave to Detective Aki. When he got into his car, he drove off.

He went on to run some errands really quickly and got some snacks and a beverage. He went and decided to stop by a public library and started to use the public computers and continued to do some paperwork and make new homework and test assignments.

He looked at the time got up from his chair, logged off, and walked away from the library building. He got back in his car and drove off to a food place.

He ordered a meal for himself and ate in his car while grading more of his paperwork. When the sun was completely gone, he went to a copy, and fax machine place that was open 24 hours and started to make multiple copies before heading his way home near midnight.

He did this routine for 3 weeks. 3 whole weeks. 3 torture weeks for him.

The day he saw a man getting arrested on the college campus with Detective Aki and the two officers, his 3 whole weeks ended.

He got out of work, he went on to the library, and used the computer for some time. He went to an electronic store and bought himself a new computer. He got into his car and drove home.

He opened the door that was inside the garage and placed the store bag on the kitchen counter.

He walked upstairs and opened the bedroom door. "Sorry, I'm late. Work has been chaotic." He stared at you with your eyes glossy and the rag on your mouth. Your hands were still tied up to the headboard. He went towards and touched the rag and pulled it out. " Sorry about this, sweetheart. It was just a precaution. On the good news, they arrested that ex-boyfriend of yours. It wasn't good for him when they saw all the texts he had 'sent' you. Too bad they found your phone on his property."

"P-please...don't hurt me...Please don't hurt me." You cried to him.

He grabbed your cheeks with his hand, "Who's your best friend?" When you didn't answer him, he grabbed onto you harder, "Answer me!"

"E-Emi." You told him.

"Well, that Emi bitch made those 3 weeks a living fucking hell for me and I'm not too happy about that, sweetheart." He sighed and let you go. "At first I thought your family was gonna be in my way, but it turns out is Emi. Tell me, what should I do?"

You shook your head.

"You're right. It'll be too suspicious." He got on the bed and laid next to you. "I'm just happy to be with you." He slid his hand down to your body and stopped once it reached your stomach. "It must've been lonely here for you. Tell me something else, do you want some company while I'm gone?"

You felt your body shiver with his touch and talk. "N-no."

"No? You're fine here without me? Because if you ever feel alone, I can change that." He rubbed your stomach.

"I'm fine. I-I'm okay." You pulled your knees up to your chest feeling chills going through your body.

"I love you, I hope you know that." He said, smiling at you. He pulled you closer to him, wrapping his arms around your body. "I'm doing this all for you."

He kissed your cheek, "This is all for love."

SPOILERS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

(Sorry for the long wait! R.I.P to Nanami 😩)

[iplaywithstring]

What it can be like to live with mild ME/CFS (individual experiences will vary)

chronic fatigue - this one may seem obvious but remember that fatigue isn't the same as tiredness. It's heavy, bone deep, and makes even simple tasks difficult

muscle weakness - going up stairs, lifting a glass of water and even speaking can be difficult. Sometimes I can't open the fridge.

Dysautonomia - my autonomic nervous system is messed up. It means low blood pressure, dizzy spells, poor temperature regulation, and orhtostatic intolerance (which leads to horrible nausea)

Brain fog - words disappear from my vocabulary. I forget what I was talking about in the middle of a sentence. I can't follow a conversation or a tv show. Reading comprehension is non-existent (all of this is great while being a master's student).

Short term memory issues - possibly related to brain fog, but a separate thing because I don't realize the memory issues are happening until someone points it out. Great when my kid tells me something and not only do I forget the information, but have no memory of having the conversation.

Flu-like symptoms - chills, nausea, weakness, muscle and joint aches. Do I have a virus or did I do too much? Who knows. Constant fear I'm going to be Actually Sick and not realize it because I always just assume it's a bad day.

Inability to work full time - I tried this, it did not go well, even with a pretty low activity job. I am not sure if I'll ever be able to work full time because mental activity has the same effects as physical activity.

Unrefreshing sleep - It doesn't matter if I sleep for 3 hours or 8, I'll likely feel the same when I wake up. Monitoring my heart rate variability (HRV, a good measure of energy levels taking into account CNS function) has shown that sometimes I even have less energy when I wake up. Joy.

So maybe this is a bit of a rant, but it's also a reminder that even a mild form of this illness (I'm so lucky to be mild!) is life-altering and has an effect on pretty much every thing I do.

I have privilege - thanks to my partner we are financially stable if I don't work, I have access to medical care and if I'm unable to take care of things, I have support. I am happy and I have been able to create a life that feels good and fulfilling even while I manage my symptoms.

I got sick in 2010, after a viral infection - no idea what virus but I had a pretty high fever and felt miserable for a few days. Not sick enough to go to the hospital, but enough that I knew I was sick. It's moving into winter in the northern hemisphere, where viral infections tend to rise.

Take care of yourself and the people around you. Get your covid and seasonal flu vaccines. Stay home if you're sick, wear a mask in public. I don't want you to get sick like I am.

[hatsunevitu]

okay so since the Cupid Ye was aired i’ve been constantly thinking about cartman’s mental condition. we know he’s probably taking medication now, so i hc him having antisocial personality disorder and bipolar disorder. and i’ve been imagining him having his depression episode for the first time after he was diagnosed with bipolar disorder. he’s not used to it, he has no idea what’s going on and why he suddenly feels so tired and numb all the time, so he just stays at home skipping school and avoiding social contacts. he’s scared and the “it’s all because of your illness, poopsikins!” from his mother doesn’t help at all.

and sooo i wrote a short moment about this?? i’m sorry for any mistakes because it was originally written in my native language, not in english :(

***

Ever since early childhood it was clear and obvious to everyone that Eric Cartman had problems. Not even like that, Kyle corrected himself in his thoughts. Eric Cartman had Problems. Sociopathy, sadism, aggression – all that a person could notice in Cartman after only half an hour of communication.

And Kyle wasn't too surprised when bipolar disorder was added to all of the above in a sloppy psychiatrist’s handwriting.

By the time Cartman was finally diagnosed he had already gone through several phases of mania. Kyle even did a little research on the disorder. "To know what to prepare for the next time I meet this psycho," he told Stan. "And to know how to help him if necessary," he added silently to himself.

By the age of fifteen, Stan's company was already used to Cartman's regular explosive mood swings, which were accompanied by crazy ideas, aggressive behavior, and, if absolutely unlucky, deaths of a couple or more people.

It was typical: after a short break, Cartman would burst into Kyle's room (often through the window), start showering him with business plans, startup ideas, and opportunities to have extreme fun. Kyle was silent, trying his best to ignore him and frowning irritably when Cartman smiled ecstatically and rushed to Kyle, tugging at his sleeve and almost shouting that everything would be better this time and that it’s a one hundred percent successful scheme.

For some time Broflovski genuinely believed that everyone in their friends group was going through such tortures, but after a short questioning, he found out that they had not seen Eric's mania with their own eyes. Kyle understood — and they won’t, when Cartman just chuckled at the outraged "What the fuck, Fatass?" and replied, "I guess you're just special, Kahl. They wouldn't understand." His eyes flashed especially maliciously, and Kyle looked away hastily so as not to give Cartman the opportunity to start another fight.

Well, all in all, no one's world collapsed when Cartman was diagnosed with a new mental illness. Over the past months of insane hallucinations and obsessive intrusive thoughts, he managed to make everyone sick of him. He refused to go to the therapy sessions for a long time, shouting, running away and trying to get into a fight, and Liane was too afraid to find out another unpleasant truth about her son, preferring to go with the flow and shut him up with the fulfillment of every single of his whims. Kyle doubts that anyone would have done anything to help Cartman if he hadn't intervened. Why – it was unclear to Broflovski himself, but Cartman's first depressive phase hit them both unexpectedly too hard.

Disappearing from everyone’s sight for two weeks, Cartman ignored calls and messages (although Kyle had a serious doubt that anyone other than Butters and Broflovski himself texted him) and skipped school despite Mr. Harrison's threats of expulsion.

Liane avoided answering questions, pursing her lips in frustration and talking her way out with a trivial "He's sick." Kyle didn't believe a damn second, knowing that if Cartman was sick, Kyle would have known about it the very first. Something was wrong. For some reason, the desire to find out what exactly was much stronger than it should have been when it came to Eric Cartman.

***

Perhaps Kyle really shouldn't have worried so much — not to the point of climbing into Eric's window at night. But the Cartmans hadn't opened the front door all day, and by that time Kyle's nerves were so stretched that they threatened to break if he didn't get answers to his questions in the next few minutes. Disturbing thoughts and images of possible turn of events appeared in his head. Perhaps Cartman was dead? Or, on the contrary, has killed someone and had been dissolving dismembered body of his victim for two weeks? One option was no better than the other, but nothing was even close to what he saw in Eric's bedroom.

Haggard, seven kilograms thinner, with an unhealthy skin color and bags under his eyes, he looked painfully wrong, not Cartman-like. He didn’t look exactly ill — more like lifelessly tired. But that wasn't even what hit Kyle so hard.

He did not suspect how much had been hidden in Cartman's eyes before – lively fire, hatred, anger, enthusiasm, passion – all this was gone, dissolved, buried under this empty, dead, unblinking gaze. For a second Kyle even thought (hoped?) that he was really dead, but the heaving chest under the blanket and almost inaudible sound of breathing exposed life in Cartman. He was lying on his back, his head slowly turned towards the window. Kyle sought recognition on his face, but did not see a single shade of any emotions.

He froze in the window, making eye contact with Eric, feeling like he saw something he shouldn't have. He tried to revive the old familiar hatred that usually boiled in him as soon as their eyes met, but Cartman’s emptiness totally killed all the anger. Kyle climbed through the window – Cartman didn't react in any way, lazily closing his eyes – and walked up to the bed, touching his shoulder timidly.

“Hey, Cartman?” he said, shuddering at the way his voice echoed throughout the bedroom. Cartman didn’t open his eyes but smiled hardly visibly.

“Hey, jew”. His voice was empty and emotionless and Kyle pursed his lips with a bit of a pain.

“You need to see a doctor, Cartman”, he said firmly as Eric finally opened one eye disinterestedly. “I’ll help you. I promise”.

And he did.

[zvtara-was-never-canon]

What do you think about this take? Do you agree? https://www.tumblr.com/zuko-always-lies/764888302529757184/cobra-diamond-had-this-very-interesting-take-on?source=share

Half agree, half disagree. I'd say that's what BRYKE wanted people to see Azula's arc/ending as, a tragic "death" of her very spirit, leaving just a hollow shell behind. It's impossible to redeem or heal her, not because "she's too evil", but because she's just not there anymore. And obviously the opinion of the guys that had THE final say on the show affects the narrative since they decided what would or would not be part of it.

But they still allowed things like Aang saying "EVERYONE has the potetial for great good and great evil", Zuko looking at Azula with pity in the finale and even saying he believes even Ozai could change. And the head writer, Aaron Ehasz, REPEATEDLY pushed for a redemption arc for Azula, with a reconciliation with Zuko, and the seeds for it are all over the original show. It's not that difficult to look at all that and wonder "What will happen when/if Azula recovers from her breakdown?" because since the story stops just a few days after her fall from grace, it is not set in stone that she will stay like that forever, even if that's indeed what Bryke wanted us to take from that scene.

Most importantly, as of this moment, everything else Bryke approved of post OG series leaves Azula's fate far more open-ended.

The Yang comics disrespected her character horribly and made the heroes go from witnesses to her tragedy to people directly causing said tragedy - but Azula is also far, far, far more "alive" than she was at her ending scene. She's sick and evil, yes, but she has goals that she's actively working towards (even if they make no sense because Yang is bad at his job). She's not just in constant agony, crying and screaming and unable to even talk, or completely catatonic. Her soul is corrupt, but not gone.

Same for the recent (and much better written) Spirit Temple comic, in which Azula resigns herself to constantly repeating the same cycle of getting new people to boss around, pushing them too far, being abandoned and then replacing them, she is making the CHOICE to stay in that cycle. It's a bad choice, but it's hers. Once again, Azula is corrupt, not dead.

Korra is where it gets a bit tricky because, well... Azula is not around and is not spoken about ever. Since the comics happen before Korra and Azula spends 90% of her time in them disappearing into the woods and confusing the main characters, it's very possible that she's not mentioned because she fucked off from their lives years ago and they have NO IDEA what she's been up to, if she's even alive.

Is she commiting petty crimes just to get by and bitching constantly about no longer living in luxury? Is she plotting her vengeance against Zuko in some weird cult she's been the leader of for decades? Is she living happily on some remote island with tons of children and grandchildren? Did she die young after tragically jumping off a cliff or stupidly choking on food? Is she the drunk, mentally ill philosopher that ruins the day of every pretentious intellectual and acts obscenely in public, Diogenes style?

Who knows? Not me. And I don't know because Bryke, at some point, clearly decided that Azula did NOT "die" in the finale. It makes sense. They wanted the story to end after the three seasons of Avatar, but they've turned it into a full on franchise now, and Azula is one of the most popular characters AND a main villain, so bringing her back inevitably draws people's attention, regardless of if they want her to recover or to just be defeated by the good guys again.

Maybe they'll "kill" her again at some point, but considering she got a solo comic and is mentioned by name in the announced comic of Kiyi, her sister/replacement, going to the very school she used to go and how Zuko worries about what that might lead to, it's pretty clear that she will be affecting the narrative(s) for a bit more time, be it directly or indirectly.

Basically: I think I know what Bryke originally intended, I have no fucking clue what their current plan is (assuming they have one) and I don't care because I basically only take the original show into consideration and it left PLENTY of room for my headcanons.

[theoldlesbianwithcats]

hi! yes, exactly! your comparison to TIMs is spot on. i’ve seen other lesbians make similar comparisons between the way fakebians violate our boundaries and how TIMs violate those of women more generally. they’re reading from each other’s rulebooks. i’m afraid to consider a relationship with a bisexual woman because i don’t want to be a prop in her yuri manga fantasy life.

i was bullied horribly as a girl because the other girls could tell i was gay, it affected me so badly i was eventually diagnosed with a serious mental illness as a result. i really feel like ‘comphet’ could have been useful for us as real lesbians to describe the way we force ourselves to be compliant with heteropatriarchy against our nature, but it’s gone full mask off lately and become shorthand these days for ‘had sex with a man’. goldstars ‘didn’t go through comphet’ i.e. we didn’t have sex with a man. i dated men, though, i personally definitely ‘went through comphet’. i didn’t sleep with them BECAUSE i was a lesbian, there was no other special reason. in theory, i don’t believe that all non-goldstar are liars. but i am sick to death of being condescended to about how i’ve supposedly lived some beautiful, rose-tinted, lesbian life. or even being told i must only be a goldstar because i am ugly and unsociable and no man would even want me. and more than anything in the whole world, i am sick of hearing lesbian-identified women talk about all the past sex they’ve had with men. every time i hear about a supposed famous lesbian who has a history of long sexual relationships sometimes with multiple men, or talking casually about sexual escapades with men, i want to disappear.

Personally, I gave up on dating or even being friends with bi women. 100% of the bi women I've known IRL ended up being lesbophobes or inappropriate with me, even the ones who are feminists or only date women.

I completely agree with you on the term comphet. Gold stars are affected by social pressure to be attracted to men and it deserves to be talked about, it just doesn't involve having sex with men! I know many gold stars who self-harmed, are mentally ill due to abuse and/or had addictions for example. I've been in feminist lesbian spaces where women were super comfortable talking (sometimes in explicit terms) about their past sexual experiences with men, but when I mentioned being a gold star or even just missing having sex with a woman, I was branded a weirdo! Sorry for being a lesbian in lesbian spaces, I guess?

I find it interesting that they can call themselves lesbians all they want, but their behavior and words betray them. Calling us too ugly and unlovable to attract men is not something a lesbian would say, since we don't care about attracting men. That's just classic lesbophobia from women who won't admit they're bi.

About celebs, I made a meme recently that reflects how I feel about it haha

[bedheadandsleepmeds]

Hey. This post is way overdue. But the bare basics of it is that I'm sick. This is going to be a lot of word vomit because I don't have the patience or energy to be normal about this. I disappeared last year because for reasons I don't really want to discuss, I had a very bad mental health spiral. I ended up leaving social media and cutting off basically everyone in my life, including some of my best friends. I'd still come on here sometimes to see what was going on, but definitely not as active and not participating. Ive also been unable to finish any art in this time, with the exception of 4 drawings, including the one above. I've tried. But nothing has been working. But then I got physically ill again in March, and since then I've been to the ER 8 times, I've lost over 40 pounds from not being able to eat, and I can't do anything without my chest seizing up in pain and my heart going haywire. They've done multiple tests and we still don't know what's wrong. I've had to leave work, I'm not even sure if I have a job anymore. I have no savings. I'm tired. Honestly I'm so so so scared. I feel like I'm dying almost every single day. I also haven't been able to take any of my psychiatric meds since this all started and that's not helping anything. But being sick has somehow made it so I can make some art again, so I may be back to posting for as long as I can ride this wave. Anyways it's 5am and I can't sleep because my stomach hurts so bad and my heart is pounding, and my brain is trying to convince me if I fall asleep I'll die. Love y'all 🩵🩷💛

[your-naked-magic-oh-dear-lord]

Hey, fam. I apologize for my lack of online presence. I have neglected a lot of very dear friendships, missed valuable opportunities, and caused my own self senseless grief.

I want to be more present this year (oh how interesting that I have said this in years past!!) and more available to support my friends and entertain my followers. I feel I used to be somewhat popular.

In addition to the normal hurdles in my life – mental illness, physical disability, poverty – this past year has offered new, additional catastrophes to deal with. The very shortest of it is that my elderly father has wrestled with a persistent injury for two years that led to his having his left leg being amputated below the knee two weeks ago. He is doing remarkably well and despite the trauma of literally having a limb cut off, he is in great spirits, taking well to physical/occupational therapy, and clearly born anew with the pain of his injury gone with the limb.

My sibling and I have been left to run my parents' disaster of a "farm" while my mom stays with my dad at the hospital. I'm exhausted all the time and sometimes I let it all get me down.

Additionally, on October 9th, I lost my beloved Australian Shepherd, Bear, who was the light of my life, closer than most of my friends, and always there for me when I was sick, sad, lonely, or just... lost. After three months, I'm handling it better, but occasionally, I will be overwhelmed and burst into uncontrollable sobbing.

My beloved cat, Toni Stark, disappeared over the summer and I was denied the opportunity to properly grieve the way I was allowed to with Bear. I struggle with that every day and dream about her at least one night a week.

January last year I made my last bid for freedom. I had every possible door closed in my face. I've had no hope for escape since.

My mom hasn't targeted me for psychological torture much lately but that's because she's been targeting my sibling who's gradually becoming as broken as myself.

I'm not trying to bring anyone down. I just want those who wonder what I'm doing to know why I struggle.

I'm going to make an art blog and utilize my Kofi better. I'm going to journal more in my personal blog. I'm going to allow myself to express myself. I go through long periods where I just can't articulate an opinion because I know no one wants to hear it. But I find it's not necessarily about being heard; it's about getting it out into the aether. I deserve a voice.

I did not set out to give such a long update when I opened Tumblr today. But I guess it's necessary.

I love all of you. I do apologize to those of you whom counted on me for support. I want to be a better friend to everyone.

You'll hear from me again soon.

Your friend and occasional ghost, Billie (Sara)

[freshwoods]

He is a real person. He was alive and now he’s not.

And it’s unfortunately easy to reconcile that in my head. Because I’ve known people - too many - who have also committed suicide. I personally knew 3 people to take their own lives before I was even 15. Each one of them fucked me up in ways I still haven’t recovered from. At 16, a really good friend of mine’s mother killed herself. Her memory haunts me. In community college, the friend of a friend; in university, a classmate who was around during a pivotal part of my life. Again and again and again, I’ve lost people I’ve cared about. It never stops. The pain doesn’t go away. I’ve been suicidal. Fuck, just a few weeks ago was another downswing that had me the closest I’ve ever been to contemplating the logistics of how I could do it. I understand the mechanics of wanting to die. I understand how some people can be driven to it. I try to tell myself that I never would, but I don’t make promises if I can’t keep them. But I’m angry. So fucking angry. And heartbroken. Because it just keeps happening. And I wonder if mental illness was talked about more, if treatment wasn’t so stigmatized, if it wasn’t so expensive or if people weren’t so obsessed with hiding how they feel just to be conceived as perfect, if it would make a difference. I know myself enough to know that antidepressants saved my life. They actively save my life. I will be on them until the day I die. And it took years - literal years - of trying medications and doses and feeling sick and feeling sick and feeling sick and feeling worse before I found something that worked. It took a toll on my friendships, my relationship at the time, my relationship with my family. I lost so much. But I gained life. At least an extension of it. And that’s living here, in America. With all her flaws. It’s having people in my life I have learned to open up to so that I don’t disappear into the sadness. I won’t criticize another country when I have not experienced the culture, and not when I live in the very problematic USA. But the lack of mental health care. It’s still health care. Health. Mental illness is an illness. The brain is an organ and it is sick. It doesn’t work right. Therapy can help. Medication can help. Why is that such a hard concept? Why is it so impossible for these idols who give and give and give so, so much of themselves to get the care they need in return? No one should have to suffer like that. Not the friends I’ve had who have died. Not the people I maybe didn’t know the best, but whose sudden absence was known and felt. I mourned for them. I still mourn for them. When August comes, I face their ghosts, the old fear that one of my siblings would join them, maybe my mother, maybe my cousin, maybe someone else I’m not expecting. It’s so tiring to by constantly vigilant. I can’t watch TV shows about suicide without being triggered. I can’t read about it in books. So much of my life is spent in avoidance.

But I can’t avoid this. I can’t avoid Moonbin. He is a person. He has family and friends and people who love him and will think about him every day for the rest of their lives. They will miss him. They will mourn. They will grieve. They will grieve. The magnitude of that is sickening. Is heartbreaking. It hurts me in a way I can’t even put words to. It’s not enough to say he will be missed, to send thoughts and prayers. He is gone because people failed him. The healthcare system failed him. His company failed him. The industry failed him. People in positions of power have a responsibility to care for the people under them and he did not get the care he needed. I’m heart-heavy and burdened. And I will mourn. I will grieve. But I will also be angry. I will be livid. I will not forget him, just like I have not forgotten the rest of those in my life. I didn’t know him, not really, no fans did. But to love someone is not to know them. It is simply to cherish their existence. So I will cherish him. Because he is a person who was alive and now is not. He deserves respect and dignity. His friends and family deserve respect and dignity.

Moonbin will be missed. But he will also be incredibly, incredibly loved.

[micahthemoon]

December 31 2023 It’s New Years eve, the last day of the year. And what a year! I’ve experienced so many great things in my transgender journey this year. To honor those accomplishments, I’ve dedicated today’s entry to highlighting one post from each month and what I consider the most significant experience, good or bad. Here’s to a new year full of yet more great opportunities to grow, to learn to love myself and find myself. Micah is checking out. See you in 2024.

January = Sickleave I was not-forced-but-kinda-forced to go on sick leave from applying to jobs. Honesty, I fear that starting therapy would ruin my chances of starting hormones someday. But I don’t think I can wait any longer. I might need to bite the bullet and find a therapist. Pray to whoever that this doesn’t take away the progress I made in medically transitioning. Or worse make people invalidate my gender identity because ‘Mentally Ill ™’ (01/04)

February= Second appointment and BMI wakeup call After four months of waiting, I finally had my second appointment at the gender clinic! All went well except the scales. I don’t own a scale at home – I won’t risk hating myself more because of a number. Thing is, I am around 15-20 kg heavier than six years ago and at least 5 kg too heavy for top surgery atm- And I fell into my own trap of feeling horrible about my body because of it. (02/14)

March = Legally changed gender It happened! I finally got the message that my gender id is legally changed now! It feels so surreal! I’m honestly filled with so much adrenalin I didn’t even have time to second guess writing to my Banks, insurance and other important systematic institutions in need of the news! Gah, I want It all to be fixed now but it takes time and really, I am just overjoyed! (03/02)

April = Starting minoxidil First day using minoxidil!! I got it yesterday yet decided it would be fitting starting on a Monday. My daily routines are getting so crowded now both including minoxidil and tattoo aftercare. I think it’s a good thing in terms of making a routine to when I hopefully get testosterone. By then hopefully I’ve learned from all my past mistakes – like this morning where I put minoxidil on before eating my breakfast. Take it from me, minoxidil doesn’t taste great. (04/17)

May = Third appointment, reached weight goal You know you’ve mastered your mascara game when your gender therapist is wondering out loud whether you’ve started HRT without him knowing. I really enjoy how confused my mascara beards can make people. But alright back to the gender identity clinic appointment I had today. It went well better than I’d expected and if all goes well, I might be able to start testosterone way earlier than I’d expected too. And the cherry on top I am now under the cut off weight for top surgery!!! (05/15)

June = Starting a positive relationship to my body (image) Something strange happened when I was going to bed yesterday. For some random reason I started feeling my torso and I didn’t feel disgust about it? I touched every little bit of stomach, waist, and hips to figure out why it felt this neutral maybe even good suddenly. I have never liked how this part of me felt or looked so this was such a surreal experience. The feeling disappeared as quickly again when I lay down, but it did make me want to try to do some morning stretches. Success, I guess? (06/01)

July = Getting my gender validated by somebody I trust Today the camper that has been here the longest (she had 20th anniversary this year) told me that back when we first met, she couldn’t connect with me. Like I had a wall up to the world. Now that wall was gone, and she could finally see me. And she almost felt attracted to who I was now. Coming from her this means so much to me. I might not need people’s permission to transition but at the same time knowing what I do seems right to others is a huge relief. Thank you so much for telling me. (07/20)

August = An almost-approval for HRT I got the answer from the gender clinic about t. The answer is ‘maybe?’. One person was on holiday, and he needs to look at my case before the team can approve it. Don’t get me wrong I’m glad that everybody else seemed on board. However, I am a bit annoyed given that the team knew when they’d discuss my case for two months and they didn’t make sure everybody was present. Or at least let me know beforehand if not everybody could be present, so I wouldn’t get nervous without reason. (08/10)

September = An actual approval for HRT Guys!! GUYS!!!! It happened!! I am now gotten approved for testosterone!!! I am so happy I spend way too long trying to make an ig post about it!!! Sure, I still must wait for preparation appointments and blood tests and all of that but just knowing I am officially approved and on my way to get started is amazing. I even bought myself a celebratory licorice even tho I try not to snack (felt only half bad eating it)!!! (09/11)

October = Participating in baseline meassurements for HRT study I was at some pre-t tests for a study I’m participating in. We went through different physical tests, muscle strength, lung capacity together with scans of the heart and bones. Overall, it was alright especially given how awkward I’ve felt about the EKKO scan of the heart (first time since my ex I had no shirt on in front of another). What ended up being the worst was the CT because I got the dizziness side effects from the drug, they gave us. Glad I did the test but wow I am tired now. (10/31)

November = Starting HRT And so it starts fr. Here is my first (if not counting the pre-t one) testosterone update!!! I think I should maybe for the next ones try to do it before doing my mascara beard just to see if you can see any difference in my 'clean face' over time. (11/23)

December = Finding new way to measure voice pitch I got myself a new toy: a voice pitch analyzer app!! I was suggested this app by a trans friend as another fun way to document my transition and so I just tried it to make a sort of late baseline. It says my pitch is on average 173-178 hz (depending on language) which is in the female range (feminine voices tend to be classified as between 165-255 hz while men’s around 85-155; I googled it). Looking forward to seeing the changes over time. Maybe it can become a tool for gender euphoria! (12/17)

[lotuslol]

Not to invalidate any other mental illness but the saddest mental illness of all is DPDR

Here is the thing

This is just for pure self-expression, I have never experienced most mental illnesses in full (I have had OCD before) so I am no judge of what is sadder than the other

But because of DPDR, I have tasted plenty of depression and anxiety that made me understand the pain those who are actually ill with those illnesses.

Dpdr was like someone who hated you took you to a walk in hell and made you taste everything that would make you suffer

Some depression here (I could see no future, I had memory issues, I could barely leave my bed, I couldn't enjoy things I used to love immensly) some anxiety here (my hands shaking uncontorlably, sudden teeth gritting, phantom pain all over my body, one panic attack, inability to leave the house from fear, couldn't sleep well or long for the first 2 months of the illess)

All of these came because I lost my ability to recall and understand memories and reflect on them which made me lose my connection with my personality. I also lost my ability to understand the world in large (can't get into full details now because it's all fuzzy and super triggering, but my understanding of night and day flipped, my understanding of the calender messed up) and because of all that, whatever I did in a day would be forgotten that night.

It felt like the right side of my head was empty.

I was acting all out of character for myself (no one noticed anything except that I slept more and disappeared and messed up my sleep)

So this all and the extra details that I can't talk about right now made life ...meaningless.

I couldn't live or be a human, I felt like a lump of dismemebered pieces trying to be one and this lump was all in pain, because of her dismemeberment and because of her trying to assemble pieces that didn't fit together.

Without close connection with your memories you actually HAVE NO IDEA WHO YOU ARE

It made me remember that time I had covid (mine wasn't serious, just a 2 week isolated rest in my room while studying for finals, only felt like mild cold except that I lost my sense of smell)

Because I lost my sense of smell, I couldn't recall what thinge smelled or tasted like

I have been eating for 21 years (now I am older ofc) but losing my sense of smell for one month made it impossible to recall anything's taste, as if all these 21 years were nothing.

Same thing happened with DPDR but on a deeper and much more personal level, my connection to everything in life.

I felt pain where I never thought I could feel pain, I felt pain in my sense of self

As if suddenly my sense of self had pain receptors and they were on fire. As if your self is an invisible bubble around your body that has receptors to sensations and feelings, and my self was dislocated from me and on fire.

And on top of all that...you have intrusive thoughts

As if it wasn't already painful enough 🙃

And not just any intrusive thoughts, they are also physically painful and personal

Like somebody lived in your head, judged your every whimper because "you are acting sick, pull your weight" "Don't cry, you have no reason to cry" "you deserve this for arguing with God, this is punishment"

Like someone gaslit you constantly "you are a boy, not a girl. Look, your privates look more mike a penis" "you are gay, not straight" "your name is Meriam, not Lotus" "you are not in pain, stupid. Stop whining for no reason" and because I had basically nothing but air in my head, these thoughts echoed and they echoed SO LOUDLY I thought that they were true (even though my conscious self knew that this all was wrong)

Like I would be feeling immense pain, like I have many cuts on my back. I would be taking a shower to lessen the pain, it felt like I was washing physical wounds. As soon as I likened my shower to washing wounds, I felt a mean snigger that told me "you are not washing away wounds, stop being dramatic. You aren't wounded"

I forecfully felt no pain after that, but it was forceful, like someone shoved your pain down your throat to make it disappear.

...but I AM in pain, I was in immense pain just moments ago...I have a hard time remembering...

I felt the emotional equivelant and almost ALMOST the physical sensations of being flogged on a daily basis.

And if I dared to commit the horrible act of acknowledging my illness and saying "I am ill" between me and myself and complain about it, I will lose my sense of self more and feel dazed, as if I was being punished for doing so.

This has been going on for 7 months, every month less traumatizing than the one before, but it all was exhausting and painful and sad.

[studyblrbymaya]

so, i’m back. it’s been a couple of months, we’re moving into my least favourite two seasons where i’m going to experience severe mental illness, far worse than my usual, i’m going into my country’s hardest year of education, we’ve had a pathetic summer (if you can even call it that), and guess what? none of my studying has paid off. al of the hours of studying that i’ve put in throughout my life? pointless. in that 2 hour exam, i destroyed my future.

i spent this whole summer working my socks off for this exam that determines my future, and i failed. i had my heart set on 4 universities, and i am now unable to apply to any of them. any of the tiny hints of certainty that there once were have completely disappeared: all of my hard work, and it went nowhere. a whole summer in my study, for absolutely nothing. i’ve lost faith, cried, had really, seriously nasty thoughts, and a week later, i’m shocked that i’m still here. i wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy: it is hell. absolute hell.

i’m having to alter my original plan for where to apply: i feel like an utter failure. i’m embarrassed, i’m lost, and i have absolutely no clue what my life is going to look like. absolutely no clue whatsoever.

the possibility of anything good happening for me now is all gone: i feel so stupid for hoping for my dreams to come true, so stupid for having fun now because i feel like the stereotypical stupid person who deserves nothing good, and so stupid for wasting a summer working. every single minute of all of my education feels useless and it feels like there’s no point continuing with it. i feel like i’ve let myself and my family down and i really don’t see anything improving. honestly, i’m so lost.

unlike most of my other posts, this one genuinely doesn’t have a meaning. there’s nothing behind it. no special message about how ‘you should never give up, even when it’s hard!!!’ because for me, there is no point. no message about what i’ve learnt from this (apart from that i’m a serious failure), literally nothing. im meant to be preparing my application for sendoff in 2 weeks, and none of it is ready. i’m throwing in the towel right now. i am tired, sick of being hopeful only for nothing good to come of anything. i’m absolutely exhausted, inadequate, reeling, a let-down. all of that wasted money, effort, and time. a whole summer and hundreds of pounds wasted on my failure. it honestly feels like i’ve been being hit by a brick for the past 6 weeks. i’m back to square one with self care, i’ve forgotten what i enjoy, i just can’t. im not okay right now and just feel so embarrassed. i’ve no clue how im going to face school or studying again. everything is so, so unbelievably dark right now.

no tags. i just need to get this off of my chest.

[censoredsecret]

Can I get a read more in here pls why is this so hard on mobile

Tw for Daddy issues related to mental illness, addiction, divorce and death

….

Yeah you know what I can’t believe my fucking dad who was there for my birth didn’t consider me worth getting a grip on his mental health issues when he had care in all places for him, which also led him to not stay clean or sober

My mom had to leave his ass to get away from that shit and keep me and my sib not to see how bad he was plus he was taking out money of her bank account and stealing money and cards shed hidden in the house and had cameras watching him to see him do it….

Yet he tried to be in our lives still bc of how much I loved him and he came down and tried to get better but then he was asking me for gas money and I didn’t want my mom and stepdad to know so I would give him some from my allowance/studies I did for childhood anxiety that’d pay me for literally crying my eyes out every night thinking of him and going through the worst separation anxiety in my life

He stopped being okay. He disappeared. He didn’t have any good advocates or he didn’t listen to them and lost their help. I wish he’d get better. But he’s already so far gone. But he sounds so seeet and loving and he was asking money from me and my sib again when we got back in touch years later and I was going to invite him to ny wedding but I felt like he must be doing something to abuse his money which his funds handler was managing for him for his own sake and he’d spend it on anything but shelter…. Why wouldn’t he stay somewhere. Why. Why, why when he has the money from social security to pay for everythigg is he asking me to help him pay for a hotel bc he doesn’t have an apartment anymore bc bc bc bc it’s the guys fault every time or they haven’t done anything to help them and didn’t listen to him but yet he can sit there and talk all day about himself on the phone and I know he knows how to make himself heard so I can’t tell anymore what’s the truth or lies from him does he even love me enough to stay in touch because once I didn’t invite him to the weddigg n and didn’t want to keep giving him money and set my boundaries but said I’d like to be friends and work this relationship out and come see you sometime and he’s ghosting me now. Maybe he can’t afford a phone on whatever budget plan he seems to be doing….

There’s the honest possibility that a lot of this is bc he didn’t get the right help at the right times or he doesn’t have the right resources or the right resources are ableist and classist so it’s not helping more than hurting and wow I just don’t know anymore how to be healthy and have s relationship with this man who I think of so much now and wonder if he’s sitting there depressed because he can’t be my dad and so he’s driven further into self destructive behavior and addiction

I’m going to have to ask him one day. Before he dies, and I lose the chance. I’m already grieving my step dad dying from cancer in front of me as I stayed away for uni and had to watch his suffering st the very end…. It was so much and this man isn’t even trying to console me for it not once and my mom was the one I called and she was always there for everything even after my stepdad and her divorced and after she got sober after many relapses and I just….. she is so strong. She is working so hard. She’s struggled with addiction since she was a teen. Why didn’t he get a grip. He had a wife and kids and a great job and ptsd and bipolar and it wasn’t in him to get a grip enough to stay in our lives…

Why can’t I even remember why he stopped being in our lives. He used to pick me up for softball. He was there for middle school then for my sickness during sophomore year and then idk… idk what happened after that. Is that my brains way of helping me, or just me honestly not caring enough. I’d detached so much of my love of him from me that it hurts so much to dip into ever again. Meanwhile I would trade time with him for time with my stepdad��my real dad.

[wordsnstuff]

10 Mistakes to Avoid When Writing About Mental Illness

Patreon || Ko-Fi || Masterlist || Work In Progress

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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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[teiasviago]

Signs

Episode: “Je Souhaite” | Rated M | @today-in-fic | Warning: if any of the symptoms of pregnancy are squicky for you, it would be best to avoid this fic. Also, a reminder that we use Fahrenheit in the U.S., so don’t freak out at the wonky temperature stuff, my Celsius loaves.

Scully feels a little guilty for sending Mulder home last night after teasing him all day about what she was going to do to him in bed, but she blames her upset stomach on being “forced” to skip lunch that day. Scully had waved him off after three hours of on and off vomiting, feeling like she sent the entirety of her pizza and soda into the toilet.

She’d sent him back to his apartment so he’d stop hovering, his incessant chatter only magnifying the headache beginning to build at the base of her skull.

Mulder had called as soon as he got home, leaving a voicemail for her to please not come in tomorrow if she’s still sick. Well, Scully had fortunately felt right as rain when she woke up, aside from the minimal gnawing feeling in her stomach.

She regrets eating two bagels with lox and her real cream cheese now. This must be her punishment for breaking the rule of saving it for the fair amount of bad mornings she encounters. Her stomach’s mutinying again at the smell of Mulder’s black coffee and she can feel another toilet session coming on.

“Oh, God,” Scully whispers, all intent to apologize and press a soft kiss to his lips going out the proverbial door as she sprints out the real one and hauls ass to the bathroom.

She must have a stomach bug, Scully reasons, trying to even out her breathing as she folds some paper towels and wets them before pressing them against her face and neck. She’s suddenly feeling strangely hot, evidence of her sick flushed away.

Mulder knocks three times on the bathroom door. “Scully?”

“Yeah?” she sends back, splashing her face with water. She groans as she feels another gag coming on.

“I brought you some ginger ale and—and some Pepto Bismol. And Tums. I know you don’t like the Pepto but, you know, I figured this called for all the stops.”

She can imagine the look on his face as he hears her vomiting again. Scully checks her watch when it’s over. It’s still only 8:27 in the fucking morning!? How the hell is she supposed to make it through the rest of the workday like this?

The door hinges creak and she looks over at Mulder. “I told you not to come in if you’re still sick, Scully.”

“I wasn’t! I felt fine this morning, and then I walked in the office and smelled your coffee and...”

He leans against the counter and crosses his arms, puckering his lips as part of his exaggerated thinking face. Scully stands up straight and shoots him a look. Mulder shakes his head and puts his hands up. “Look, all I’m saying is that it looks like the same thing happened last night. As soon as we got out the ice cream, you bolted to the bathroom.”

She sighs and shakes her head. “What are you getting at, Mulder?”

“Just that you should go home and at least take a nap or something. If you stay off your feet for a few hours and relax, I’ll be happy. Nibble on some crackers, catch a soap opera...” Mulder shrugs. “You’re clearly sick, Scully. If not for yourself, do it on the chance that it’s contagious.”

Scully places the wet paper towel on the back of her neck, holding it there. “Fine. But only because it might be contagious.”

“I mean—that doesn’t make it better, but thank you nonetheless. Do you want me to drive you? What if there’s a random smell that sets you off on the ride there?”

She rolls her eyes but tells him, “Fine.”

—

Mulder’s assertion that certain smells have been setting off whatever’s going on with her stomach seem to be proven true when she comes back to the office after a few hours of rest and relaxation to the harsh sight of a man whose... whose mouth suddenly disappeared and had to be surgically recreated. Not a twinge from her stomach aside from shock butterflies.

Scully’s relieved that she’s been able to keep down her lunch. To be fair, it was crackers with a little cheese and a full two cups of water to make sure she was hydrated, but any food is good food. She proudly announces to Mulder during their ensuing flight the next day that it seems whatever illness hit is gone.

—

It’s not cold in Creve Coeur, Missouri—certainly not in Spring—but Scully’s feeling every degree of the breeze through the open windows like it’s in the thirties. She’s shivering the entire car ride to the Mark Twain Trailer Park, and noticeably enough for Mulder to glance at her with concern before putting up the windows and turning the heat up.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little cold.”

He frowns at that but lets it go until they hit a red light, when he leans over and presses his hand to her forehead.

Scully quirks her lips in a smile. “What are you doing?”

“Checking your temperature,” he replies. “You don’t seem to have a fever...”

“I’m fine, Mulder,” she insists, leaning into his hand for the few seconds she gets the light turns green.

“Alright, but if you’re still sick, Scully, then you have to promise me that you’ll go back to the motel, okay? I brought the meds just in case, if you need them.”

She smiles softly and places her hand on his arm. “Thank you.”

“It’s what a good boyfriend does.”

—

Her stomach bug really does seem to be gone, which is a relief. However, she’s now insatiably hungry for two things: Mulder, and the bagels from the bagel place two streets over from her apartment. Well, she consoles, one is attainable, at least. And, boy, does she attain it. They’re both breathing heavily by the time Scully’s through with him, and even though they’re sticky with sweat, she curls her body around Mulder’s anyway.

Her breasts are tingly, which has never happened after sex before, but she chalks it up to Mulder’s harsh treatment of her only a minute ago as she nuzzles his chest. She inhales and sighs happily. “I love the way you smell,” she murmurs.

He laughs and she feels it against her cheek. “Coming from the woman who made me start using a different deodorant,” he jokes, squeezing his arm around her shoulders. “Your nipples are darker.”

“What?” Scully props herself up with her forearm to make proper eye contact as her brows furrow.

“Yeah. I don’t know. They’re darker. Feel a little heavier, too. You didn’t notice?”

She shakes her head and laughs. “Unlike you, Mulder, I don’t spend hours studying my boobs.”

He shrugs and rolls them over so he’s hovering over her on his forearms. “Your loss.”

—

“Fuck,” she swears, digging around in her suitcase, fresh from her shower. She’s only got one hand because the other’s holding her towel wrap together.

“What?” Mulder asks around his toothbrush, exiting the bathroom. His tie is slung behind his neck and his suit jacket is waiting for him on the bed.

“I don’t have any panty liners.”

“Do you want me to go out and get some?” he asks, heading back to the bathroom to spit.

“Yeah, that would be great.” Scully walks past him into the still-warm bathroom and lets the towel drop as she uses the one wrapped around her hair to dry the wet strands.

“Alright. I’ll be back in a jiffy.” She drops the hair towel when he takes the singular step needed in the tiny motel bathroom to invade her space in favor of pulling him down for a kiss by the ends of his tie. “Mmm, settle down or the plan’ll be botched.”

“I was just thanking you,” Scully says, affecting innocence as she does his tie for him.

“For buying you panty liners? What would happen if I surprised you with some ice cream?”

“I would eat the ice cream.”

“Damn.” Mulder presses a kiss to the top of her head before heading out to put on his suit jacket. “Do you mind me asking why you need panty liners? Also! What brand?”

“Any with wings. And I need them because there’s been an unusual amount of vaginal discharge in my underwear and I don’t want to ruin any more of them.”

“Right.” He steps back in view of the bathroom and takes in her naked body.

Scully raises an eyebrow at him. “What?”

(Their books on pregnancy are buried inside their storage closets from a time best forgotten.)

“Nothing. I just like looking at you.”

She smiles at him, drying her hair again. “Get going, hotshot.”

—

Halfway through the flight home, Scully discovers something that makes her a bit worried. She’s not supposed to get her period until next week, so the blood on the liner she quickly tosses away with shaky hands can’t be because of that. She tries to forget about it as she walks back to her seat next to Mulder, but he must see something on her face that prompts him to ask if she’s okay.

“I’m fine,” she lies, managing to give him a smile. “Just tired.”

He seems to accept that and leaves her be. It’s not even a lie; she feels exhausted after everything that happened over the past few days. Scully makes a mental note to book an emergency appointment with her Ob-Gyn when they land, and closes her eyes.

—

“Dana,” Dr. Namin starts, disrupting her patient’s thumb twiddling.

Scully abruptly stands up as her doctor moves to stand in front of the exam table, computer and several documents in hand. “You don’t look concerned,” she says, following Namin to the exam table.

“Because there’s nothing to be concerned about at this stage except plenty of rest, hydration, and eating at least three good meals a day,” Scully’s doctor replies, opening up her computer and spreading out the documents. “We’ve done all the tests you asked for, but nothing came up. However, based on the symptoms you listed, I performed one more, and that’s where we found the culprit.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re pregnant, Dana. Plain and simple. Congratulations.” Dr. Namin slides one of the documents towards Scully, who takes it. “You’re about three and a half weeks along. You can take all the papers. There’s suggestions for all the prenatal vitamins you’ll need to take and how much water to drink in a day. Resources for managing symptoms, too.”

Scully nods dumbly, tears gathering in her eyes as she stares at the diagnosis. “Um, when should I come back?”

“Don’t worry about that right now, I’ll have someone give you a call with that information. Just relax and enjoy the news. I remember how much you wanted this, Dana. I...I don’t know how this happened, but the baby’s doing well. Minor bleeding is completely normal and you don’t need to worry. If it gets worse or doesn’t stop soon, then come back.”

“Okay,” Scully chokes out, smiling widely as she wipes away her tears and collects the documents on the exam table.

—

She spends a few hours at her apartment trying to figure out how to tell Mulder the good news but gets nowhere. In the middle of pacing around her couch, one arm unconsciously wrapped around her abdomen, her phone starts ringing.

“Scully speaking.”

“Agent Scully,” Skinner starts, and she immediately knows that Mulder’s done something stupid again, “could you check on Agent Mulder? He snuck into my meeting and was yelling at my chair.”

“Yes, of course, sir.”

“Thank you.”

Scully hangs up the phone and sighs heavily. Looks like God’s giving her a sign to just get it over with. When she enters the office, however, the woman Mulder keeps insisting is a genie is there, too. She licks her lips nervously and tries to ignore her.

“Skinner called me, Mulder. Is everything alright?”

Sitting at the desk, computer on, she has to wonder what he’s doing. “You don’t remember disappearing off the face of the Earth for an hour this morning?”

She gives her head a small shake as she tells him, “No,” truly starting to get concerned.

Mulder just shrugs with a little smile and gets back to typing with a nonchalant, “Well, I guess everything’s okay.”

Get it out, just say it, she thinks, trying to psych herself up. She sighs. “Mul—” But the woman’s still there in the office. “Could you give us a minute, please?”

“Sure,” the woman—Jenn, Mulder told her on the plane—says with a nod.

Scully steps closer to the desk, butterflies in her stomach. Jenn isn’t moving, and it’s making her annoyed, quite frankly. “Like, today?” she says, turning around, but the black-haired woman is nowhere to be found, not even in the annex. Scully turns back to her partner, extremely confused. “Where the hell’d she go?”

Mulder childishly imitates a genie disappearing and she feels the sudden urge to laugh at the thought that this man is the father of her child. “No...” she says, softening the guffaw trying to escape to a scoff-laugh. “It’s gotta—” She scoffs for real this time. “It’s gotta be hypnotism, or—or mesmerism, or something.”

And thus begins the verbal sparring. As he lists all the things he wants for the world, Scully thinks, again, of how this is the father of her child. Something suspiciously soft is trying to emerge from her heart as she responds, and she’s a coward to boot, so she leaves without telling him. Driving back to her apartment, Scully feels guilty at how little effort she put into trying to break the news to Mulder. She just—she doesn’t know what to make of the news herself, let alone how to explain it to him.

An hour into The Exorcist, hugging a pillow as she wishes Mulder was watching it with her, the phone rings. “Scully, do you wanna come over and watch a movie? I’ve got your favorite popcorn...”

She grins. “Of course. I’ll bring the drinks.”

—

They’ve both changed their clothes for the movie night, and when Mulder opens the door, they’re sporting matching grins. “Oh, zero alcohol content?” he faux complains, taking the case of six drinks into the kitchen. “Is this your punishment for me, Scully?”

She elects not to respond as she follows him and takes out the package of popcorn and a pot. “Can you grab the olive oil, Mulder?”

“Yeah, of course.” He puts four of the drinks in the fridge before reaching into one of the cabinets to grab the oil and put it on the counter next to the stove, which Scully’s turning it on.

“I’ll never understand why you won’t just microwave them. It’s faster.”

“Yeah, but if you do it in the pot, it tastes better,” she shoots back, opening the package and pouring the kernels into the pot.

“That’s just because of the oil.”

“Well, you can continue to eat shitty popcorn for the rest of your life if you want, but I’m going to eat my good popcorn.”

They turn to face each other as the kernels pop and hit the lid, a staring contest beginning. Scully wins when she licks her lips and distracts Mulder enough to get him to blink.

“Ha! I got you! I win!”

“That’s cheating!”

“I won!” she says in a sing-song voice, emptying the finished popcorn into the bowl.

Mulder shakes his head with a smile. “Why don’t you take the drinks and get comfortable. I’ll finish the popcorn.”

Scully nods and does as he suggests, but as she’s crossing into the living room, she pauses and turns around. “No butter, please,” she says, and he turns around with a scoop of butter in a bowl in his right hand, the handle of the microwave in the other.

“No... butter...?” She nods. “We always put butter on the popcorn, Scully.”

“Well, I don’t want butter this time,” she says, and makes her way to the couch, sitting down and placing the drinks on the coffee table. She hears Mulder sigh heavily and put the bowl of butter in the fridge before making his way to the living room, bowl of popcorn in hand.

He shakes his head as he grabs the movie case from the table and inserts it into the player. “Can’t believe you don’t want butter on your popcorn. Eugh. It’s un-American.” He steps around the table and sits down next to Scully.

She takes the case from where he left it and makes a face. “Caddyshack, Mulder?” she questions.

“It’s a classic American movie,” he insists, grabbing his drink and propping his feet up.

“That’s what every guy says.” Scully grabs her own and untwists the cap, tossing it onto the table. Mulder does the same, but his bounces off onto the floor, and she laughs into the bottle. “So, uh... What’s the occasion?” she asks, as if they still take the justifying movie nights thing seriously.

Last week’s was I thought you might need some help feeding your fish.

“I don’t know. Just felt like the thing to do. Cheers.”

Maybe it is time to turn over a new leaf, especially considering the baby growing inside her, cell by cell. They clink their bottles—“Cheers,” she says—and drink. Tell him, tell him, tell hi—

“I don’t know if you noticed, but I, um, never made the world a happier place.”

They nod together and Scully knows that this is the moment to tell him. She takes a deep breath. “Well, I’m fairly happy. That’s something.” A smile slides onto her face and she looks at him, a lot more than fairly happy now. “Actually, I’m ecstatic.” She gives a little laugh and reaches into her pocket for the piece of paper she’d stared at for hours earlier.

“Really? Is there a specific reason, or...?”

Scully pulls the paper out and looks at the blue highlighted text on the portion of the paper that’s not folded back for a moment before handing it to Mulder. “That’s why,” she says, voice trembling a little out of happiness.

She watches his face as the words sink in. He reads it again, murmuring, “Diagnosis: pregnancy (3.5 weeks),” as he does so, a grin spreading across his lips. “Scully...”

“I know,” she says, setting her bottle on the table, and before Mulder can say anything else, she cups his cheeks and kisses him, unwilling to fight the urge.

“Scully, this is wonderful!” He laughs joyously and kisses her again, setting the paper and his drink on the table. “I’m so happy.” He brings her into his embrace and buries his face in her shoulder for a long moment, both of them starting to cry. He suddenly pulls away and puts his hand on her abdomen under her shirt, his other arm still wrapped around Scully.

“I love you,” she tells him.

“I love you, too,” he replies.