#instead of shaming people for having shitty days or being depressed

[anachrosims]

I know it feels good to say that we should just, like, love ourselves and post what we want-- it's a sentiment I don't disagree with! I also think it's a disservice to everyone who feels like they aren't 'enough' and anyone who is struggling to get their content off the ground, to branch out and be noticed, etc. Combating that "not enough" feeling with "just feel better tho!" is not AT ALL helpful, and while I know that isn't the intent, that's how it does come off.

The thing is, overcoming feelings of inadequacy, especially in this day and age of ~content creation~ and ~influencers~, takes consistent effort. It takes forming the habit of better self-talk and breaking unhealthy bad mental habits. And none of that is easy to do. When you’re born into a culture, you can’t just magically “love yourself” and unwire years/decades of being conditioned to believe your self worth lies in how productive/lucrative/popular you are. Telling people to JUST LOVE THEMSELVES is actually feeding into that, because it ignores the pain people are in and makes demands as if they’re EASY, when they AREN’T. It turns those feelings of inadequacy due to cultural and systemic bullshit into a failing on the part of those people, and that... sucks, actually.

Using better self-talk is a process that you have to practice every day, it takes deliberate effort to combat negative thought patterns and sometimes requires you to take deep breaths and step back from social media, to get your head out of the space that's causing you to feel that way.

In case anyone needs to hear this:

You are enough. You are great. You are doing your best. You can keep going. You can do this. It’s okay. it’s going to be okay. We can make it. 

You’re not crazy or stupid for feeling alone, for feeling like you haven’t done enough. It’s a consequence of the world we live in, that many of us feel that way. But you aren’t alone, and you are certainly not inadequate. You are enough.

You are loved. You are strong. You’ve come this far, look at all the things you’ve done already. You are enough.

Now go get off the computer. Go outside if you can. Touch some grass or a plant leaf, if you can. Hug a pet or loved one and tell them you love them. Listen to music, read a comic or a novel, play some Stardew or Baldur’s Gate or Zelda. Allow yourself to feel alone and like you’re not enough, but then remind yourself that there are people who love you-- and when the ‘voice’ comes back and says “but what about x” or “what about y?” just keep repeating to yourself all the things you are proud of, louder and louder. 

It is a fight, yes, and it is exhausting, but it is worth it and SO ARE YOU! Keep making your posts, and know that it’s okay to have shitty days, you aren’t crazy or stupid or weird for that, not by a country mile. You can learn to fight back and protect yourself and others.

You are all loved and you can make it. I’m cheering you on.

[creatingnikki]

Dear you at the start of 2024,

Hello, I'm here with insights and tea. You will have a lot of main character moments this year. Flying all the way to another city to meet a man you met online because you're this bold and hopeful woman who loves love and can actually take care of yourself even if things don't work out. Don't ever regret being that woman — the courage to believe in love despite all the prior bad experience, despite all the trauma and baggage you still haven't been able to clean your way out of, despite the shitty people out there — you are a sparky, smart, sweet person with so much capacity for love. Don't let people who break your heart shame you into hating you for your strengths and for taking a leap of faith.

Also, remember, sometimes people only break your expectations, not your heart. Love...it is something so vague and intangible and different for all. But for you? It's showing up. It's prioritizing the person's needs and emotions, being in sync with their thoughts and caring. Endless caring. So, if you take a minute and think about it, that boy you travelled over 500 miles for never loved you and baby you didn't quite love him either. You were on the path, both of you, yes. But neither got very far and it's frustrating and it sucks. But don't let yourself marinate in the misery of broken expectations for too long.

You will also make out with this really tall and hot guy in the middle of the dance floor at the club with everyone stopping and staring and you won't care because in those few minutes of drunk ecstasy everything will quiet down and it will feel like it's just you and him and all that sexual chemistry in between.

You will spend yet another week in the Summer in Delhi with your best friend and you will drink soju and eat tteokbokki and you will read many interesting lit fic books — this time from some v cool Indian authors too.

The space you were so restless for, you will be blessed with. And then you won't know what to do with it or yourself. You will keep feeling broken thinking that void, that God-shaped hole inside of you, is way too big and you will feel depressed and beyond repair. But when the seasons change you will give a reading club in a park in your neighbourhood a chance and you will make new friends. The 동네 친구들 (neighbourhood friends) like you had as a child you had been wanting again.

You will bake brownies at 2 am in the night and have your home smell like comfort. You will get that promotion at work and realize you've been in the workforce for long enough to be a reporting manager and it will feel amusing because you still sometimes feel like that 21 year old fresh out of college starting your first job. You will buy sunflowers for your friends and your mom and sometimes forget to buy flowers for yourself.

Patterns will keep repeating and you will struggle to break them. You'll want to get a hammer and smash them because the consistency with which you will fall back into them is frustrating and appalling. But that way you will only end up smashing your own crutches. So, you will have to learn to get out of them the way you learned to get out of the pool at seven — slowly, without haste, without slipping, and with grace.

My love, you will feel like ending this life but in a way you would turn off the computer at 10 when it was glitching — from the main switch. But you can't do that no matter how much you wish sometimes you could. Because you could always start the computer again the next day. And you always would. Hang in there because instead we are going to hit refresh.

I love you. I am getting better a loving you. When you are in December, you'll see. My words to you are kinder and there's so much less shame and guilt and disgust. So, you may not experience any major milestones in 2024, but you do know that this too is a pretty big thing? Being softer and more patient with yourself. And so I'd say it will end up being a pretty good year over all. Net good.

Love, The me at the end of 2024

PS You'll get through every single thing you feel like you won't. I promise.

[treestomeetyou]

I have a very similar experience. I obviously get wanting to look at the positives, but I also think it's important to understand the full picture. A lot of the talk I've seen online surrounding autism has made me realize that people don't really know just how shitty it can be sometimes.

Autistic people aren't just "a little quirky". In fact, some of the most talked about symptoms were the least of my concerns growing up. My emotional maturity has always been...not great. I struggled with anger and I had outbursts so bad that I would sometimes end up getting in fights or breaking things. And I had these all the way up until I was in high school. I thankfully had therapy and it's not as bad as it used to be, but my issues will never be completely gone. I've also had sleep problems my whole life and I don't really have the ability to be in certain high stress situations. That takes a lot of things off the table that I otherwise would have loved to do. I also can sometimes shut down when I get overwhelmed which is similar to a depressive episode (something I also have and experience) and depression is often a symptom autistic people experience but for me it was a seperate diagnosis. There are also people who have it worse and may never be able to live on their own, and who have problems that are even more serious and it feels like we're just...not allowed to talk about that. I have been called ableist more times than I can count by people who didn't realize I was autistic, just for trying to talk about these things, or for saying that I wouldn't wish this on anyone else.

A lot of people seem to think it's a fun thing to have and that's just not the case. It sucks. I wish people would understand that there's a difference between hating myself for being autistic (which I don't, I'm actually very upfront about it) and wishing that I didn't have certain symptoms. I'm not "masking" because I don't want to get angry and yell at my friends and family every two seconds! I did everything I could to get past that because it was the right thing to do for the sake of the other people in my life. I was bullied in school as a kid (mostly for the anger stuff) but as an adult I have experienced more shaming from within the autistic community than I have from outside of it. I should be able to talk about both the positive and the negative side of autism. There's normalization, and then there's presenting an idealized fantasy version of autism that rarely ever actually exists. (I also wish people would do actual research instead of just...basing their views of autism on a tik tok they saw somewhere, but that's a whooooole other conversation lmao)

Sorry, I didn't mean for this to get so long. I'm just very passionate about this. I hope you have a good day. ✨️

never apologize for making it so long it’s nice to hear from other people. i feel like autism on tiktok is just some kind of new age manic pixie dream girl. like she’s quirky and she has funny little habits but it’s “breaks the fantasy” when she has issues that can make her unpleasant to be around.

i always joke that i don’t drink a lot because i’m kind of a bitch when i drink, but it’s just sensory overload that makes me a deeply unpleasant person. i don’t want to be like that, i put in a lot of work to not be like that. but that work takes a lot out of me and i resent that. i agree with you that i wouldn’t change myself, i’m autistic and that’s an unchangeable part of me. but it’s so hard to make people understand that it’s a still a disability. that there are things i can’t do. i will require certain supports my whole life. the toxic positivity around autism (and neurodivergent people in general) online gets on my nerves. i can love myself and find positives in myself while still being upset about how i struggle

[lettersfromthelevant]

i cannot overstate how grateful i am to the op for making this post. i actually want to cry writing this out because it is so difficult for me to feel like i can share how much of a struggle dental hygiene is for me. people flip their shit so badly when they learn that depression and executive dysfunction can cause you to stop brushing your teeth (or other hygiene) and it makes it so much harder to overcome when the only response i get for voicing my struggles is disgust, disbelief, and shaming or punishing behavior. my issues were made so much worse by abusive dentists that actively made me feel like a horrible, lazy, pathological liar for something i couldn't help having or by a community that would constantly shame me for the state of my teeth being yellow (my mom would constantly ask me to smile with teeth, knowing full well that my teeth were stained and that i was self-conscious about it.)

to this day, i still have problems brushing. i don't think i've actually brushed every single day--or even just a few times a week--for close to eight or nine years now. the second i had legal authority over myself, i never made another dentist appointment; haven't been to a dentist in years and when i was being forced to go, i would actively contemplate severely hurting myself to get out of the appointment. no one ever recognized my severe aversion to the dentist or my bad dental hygiene as being the result of depression and trauma. no one ever gave me compassionate and realistic advice on how to deal with my depression and navigate self-care while i hated myself. so, for the sake of myself and all the people in the notes who need the kind of compassion and advice op has given us, i'll share some of the things that have helped me:

stop restricting dental care to a specific time of day or activity. my dentists gave me a lot of shitty "advice," but what made my hygiene tank the worst was scheduled brushing. even if you are only brushing your teeth once a day at this point, stop telling yourself that you can only do it before a meal, after a meal, after your rinse, at morning-noon-evening, etc. this mentality will completely fuck up your motivation to do anything, because by the time that point rolls around you'll have already lost your will to do it. when you feel yourself gain the energy to do a task, make that task be brushing your teeth, no matter what time of day.

keep toothpaste, a washcloth, and floss on your bedside table. one of my biggest challenges during depressive episodes is even getting out of bed. so, in the morning when i have absolutely no will to move let alone complete a task, i am not going to drag my ass to the bathroom to do something i associate negatively with. you can either just scrub your teeth with the cloth or put a bit of toothpaste on it and more thoroughly clean your teeth. having floss or a washcloth and toothpaste on my nightstand erases one of the biggest challenges of dental care: the effort.

if you can't brush your teeth that day, eat a mint. bad breath is a bitch and one of the things that always inadvertently caused me to fall deeper into a depressive spiral is when people pointed out my bad breath, thinking that "caring" bullying would fix the problem instead of making me even more reclusive and miserable. popping a breath mint or gum is better than nothing; don't let people make you feel bad for only being able to do what they deem a "minimum."

you don't need to restrict your diet to avoid cavities; eat what you want. much like doctors will tell people to stop eating [x] food to cut weight, dentists will tell people to stop eating (or drinking) [x] thing to avoid cavities. not only is this horribly ineffective, because food and drink aren't the only things that cause dental issues, it also creates a negative association with dental care. i had a dentist tell me to stop drinking milk because it was just as bad as soda. i stopped consuming pretty much anything the dentist said not to consume and not only did it not make my teeth any healthier (because it turns out frequent cavities can be genetic), it didn't make my depression any better either. restricting your diet is ineffective against cavities for a number of reasons, but the negative association it gives you towards dental care can exacerbate the overall issue.

don't shy away from "children's" dental care products, like the stick floss and good-tasting toothpaste. there is no reason to torture yourself with painfully minty toothpaste, long floss, mouthwash and bleach strips that feel like you are taking a taser to your teeth, or rough toothbrushes. my dentists were constantly recommending me to use the most wretchedly minty toothpastes that i couldn't stand, bleach strips and mouthwash that caused me actual pain, and electric toothbrushes that felt like i was drilling my skull. anytime i asked for softer or better tasting things, i was told no. suffering isn't virtuous and there is no medical benefit to inflicting trauma on your mouth with these products that feel intentionally designed to punish people.

it's never too late to start brushing your teeth again. i basically never brushed my teeth for a whole 10 years. a decade. A DECADE. i still struggle to brush my teeth once a week, but it all started with brushing my teeth once every few months. so i mean it when i say brushing your teeth once a week, a month, a year, or even a decade, is better than nothing.

and still, nothing is not shameful. it is not immoral to struggle with self care. and it is also not pointless to keep trying. anything you can do, even if its wiping plaque off with a towel, is enough. it is good to take care of yourself however you can, even if it's just trying to muster the will to. reading this post is good, too.

i believe in you and i am proud of you, even in the smallest of steps. it's okay. you can give yourself grace.

[secretdrt]

The thing I want to figure out is if my mother is a covert narcissist or codependent.

My father is truly a narcissist. I want to like him, but I don’t have respect for someone who hates himself and have to drag everybody to lower than his levels. He can never say a good thing, acting like a Karen at restaurants, bringing up how ugly people are, and threatening to destroy anyone who gets in their way. But the one thing that I’m fortunate for is that he is a coward. He’s never enact violence and seems less interested in controlling his family. He loses control to my mother, who reigns him in and doesn’t tolerate with his bullshit. I can tell that the rage within him aims to protect himself, and that he is a truly depressed child.

My mother is more complicated. I don’t know what she is.

Let’s say she was well adjusted as she claimed. She was the eldest child of a big family and probably had to look after her siblings. This was post-war Korea. She had resentment towards her mother for denying her opportunity to go to college while investing everything into her son. Her only option was to finding a potential suitor that could support her. She dated many men, she was popular and missed those days when she was young and beautiful. She met my father, who had won a competition and was a celebrity that was on newspaper. They had gotten married quickly, and had my older brother.

My mother always regretted marrying my father. She realized that he was a narcissist who pissed away money and drank too much. So being pushed around, she had to learn how to stand up to his bullshit and take control. And he relented, sometimes with screaming and dishes being thrown, but nonetheless my mother took control of a shitty situation. My father first moved to Canada, and a year later, brought my mother and my brother. Then I was born.

In order to survive as an immigrant in a foreign country, my mother had to sacrifice her friends and family. All she had was her husband, and her children. She had some friends, but she seemed quite distant to them. She would bury her emotions and the companionship was secondary to her family. No, it was more like, she didn’t have time for friends. She had her children to take care of, a house to clean, and to work.

Typing out all this, she is probably both a covert narcissist who is also codependent. She does not have friends. She has dumped her emotions onto me, which may be inappropriate for a minor to hear. She had to learn how to control in order to reach her goals. She took over the family finances, the cooking, the cleaning. The husband does nothing. She is often jealous of my friends, who I treat lovingly when I am cold and distant from her. And I think my mother is my best friend. I don’t think I know anyone as well as her.

But, she also reacts extremely when someone threatens her ego. Mr. Kim had pushed his son to practice and she had yelled at him and his son to stop. She lost control of her emotions and went into a full rage, and could not accept leaving them alone. She thinks that the other workers had purposely embedded a nail into the tires of my father’s car. Every little negative action from a stranger she is affronted by personally. She sees herself as a victim, but instead of getting pity, she fights and shows an unpleasant woman who is belligerent and showing that she is strong. She is the one in control, with her loud overpowering voice and scrunched up face.

So yeah. She is a covert narcissist for sure. When I point out that she seems angry or worried, she denies it, won’t even entertain the thought. But she is. And this assertion is to protect herself from feelings of shame or looking weak. This doesn’t have to do much with me pulling away. This has to do more with her losing control, losing the facade as a strong woman.

[one-abuse-survivor]

Hi✌🏻

This is dissociation anon once again after a very long time. How've you been? I hope your life has treated you nicely!

So, I've been living alone for more than a year and, well... It's great! I have close friends to spend my days with & meaningful relashionships that make me feel supported and seen and part of the community, do great in school (I had the coolest practicals out of my entire group!! At 19 yo, I was already assisting with surgery, if in the smallest role!! I saw so much stuff and by the end the main nurse trusted me enough she sent me as the only tech in an emergency operating room!!), generally cleaned up most of the main issues to the point they affect me much less than before (the only like,,, big big triggers left are suicide and weapons, but like, as a person who both was suicidal and had a brother who wanted to kill himself by shooting his brains out with the gun we had, I don't think those two will go away, well, ever), and if I do get more trauma, it's because of either general geopolitical stuff and/or other fucked up stuff happening in my life that doesn't involve the abusers.

To sum it up, I'm living that university experience you see in ads and movies that everyone says is impossible, complete with my own apartment and a walkable community with a shitton of public transport.

Also, my family is rotting apart. Everything got so much worse since I left it's not even funny. A part of the family had to emigrate, and I'm pretty sure my 13 yo cousin is now depressed and bullied in school; they seem to only be finding bigger problems and all of them are miserable. Relatives are dying left and right. My father shut himself off completely, preferring to stare into meaningless entertainment all day instead of doing... Literally anything. My brother, while not actively suicidal now (thank god), is 10 seconds away from going on a murderous rampage and killing them all, despite also somehow developing his own dysfunctional second life. My mother is heavily burnt out and depressed, preferring to also shut herself off with meaningless entertainment instead of trying to do anything to make herself feel better.

They are tearing each other apart with horrible fights which are now happening daily, and People's "such a shame you had to move" talk turned into "you shouldn't return" talk.

And it just,,,, it hurts my soul, man. Like, boy, I sure have my empathy and ability to sympathise with them turned down to 0,005%, but like,,,, they're so full of misery that it follows around them like a cloud and seeps to surfaces.

And things are like, bad bad. Like, triple the level of dysfunction you are thinking about from that initial paragraph. Like, my mother is contemplating divorce bad.

And when I look at all of this I just,,, want to help them, because oh fuck this isn't something anybody deserves.

So I'm just sort of stuck with a double life and a shitty secret identity of being a 100% normal & we'll adjusted person and also severely abused victim who's family is rotting apart and like,,, how do I manage both of that? What do I even do? Do I help? Do I don't? Do I say "you deserve this?" And leave them?

They're still the people who tortured me, abused me, despised me, pulled a gun on me, threatened to kill me, starved me, refused to give me proper medical treatment, turned me into what was practically a child slave, and more. And when you spell it out like that, it seems clear cut - no, I shouldn't help them.

But the idea of leaving,,, all that to be in my happy bubble of optimism and positivity and turning a blind eye while they rot makes me, the person I made myself outside of their influence, who has morals now, wholy shit, when did that happen, shrivel up in guilt and shame.

So like.. thoughts? Opinions? Help? Is this some sort of delayed Stockholm syndrome?

(Also, I think they know I did my whole year long manipulation plan to get out of the house intentionally, but by this point, what can they do? I won. I'm out, and I only come back for vacations and weekends, occasionally.)

(Also also, yeah, I still dissociate, either due to flashbacks or exhaustion, but it's better now)

Warm regards, and Thanks for your answer in advance!!

Hi again! I'm very glad to hear from you again!

It's so good to hear that university life is treating you well. Such amazing news!!! And that the trauma recovery isn't taking up all your mental space. That's amazing ❤️

Regarding your struggle of not knowing whether to help them, I'm here to reinforce what you already know when you spell out exactly what they put you through: you are not responsible for helping them overcome their struggles. You were an abuse victim under that roof, and every step you have taken toward your own safety and well-being is a good one, including distancing yourself as much as possible from their lives in every possible way.

It's completely understandable to struggle with guilt when you know exactly the kind of hell someone is going through, especially when those people have made you feel responsible for their pain. You're not alone in these feelings. I personally also felt like this when I left my mother behind, knowing how mentally unstable she was. I'm sure many other abuse victims have felt like this after leaving behind their abusers as well. Manu abusers have a way to make you feel like abusing you is the only thing keeping them from hurting themselves instead, and it can feel so selfish to save yourself when it feels like you're dooming them even more in the process.

But the truth is it was never your responsibility to save your family members from themselves at the expense of your own safety and well-being, and it will never be. Your responsibility is to take care of yourself and put yourself first so you can heal and lead a regular, fulfilling life, outside of survival mode. A life where you don't have to worry that something you say or do (or something you don't say or do) will make others escalate into life-threatening violence. And, let me tell you, I'm really proud of you for everything you've already done to save yourself. (Also, super proud of you too for all your achievements in your practicals! Assisting with surgery is such a huge step!)

And, nonnie, you're not living in a bubble. What you have done is exit their bubble to enter the world. That's a great thing! Your family is the one living in a bubble of emotional anguish that they either created for themselves, or didn't know how (or want) to escape. As far as I'm aware, they are all adults (at least in your former household) and have the ability to make their own decisions, just like you do. And while it can be extremely difficult to escape a situation where you're living in survival mode, warped in a damaging and terrifying worldview where everything is a life or death situation (I would never want to downplay how impossible it can feel to exit a cycle of abuse), it is possible to at least want to fight to lead a different kind of life that is adjusted, and calm, and feels worth living. You did it. Why is it that you can fight for yourself on your own, with no one to support you and your whole family actively against you, but it feels like they can't do it without your help? Why should you have to sacrifice everything you've fought for just because they can't find it in themselves to fight for a better life they way you did?

I think it will be easier to believe they're the ones in a bubble the more time you spend away from them. Up until very recently, their bubble has been your whole life, everything you've ever known. That's why it can feel like you're in a bubble now, because your newer experiences can feel small and more isolated than your whole lifetime up until this point. But as you spend time in the outside world and experience new interactions and relationships, your perception will change, and, hopefully, your guilt and shame will be alleviated and it'll be easier to understand that you never deserved what you went through, you didn't choose to live in that bubble of abuse, and it's not your responsibility to remove anyone else from it.

It can be really painful to feel like you're leading a double life when no one around you knows you come from an abusive household. I still struggle with this sometimes. It's helped me to be open about my past with my friends, at least. I don't know if this is something you want to share with any of the new people you've met, but I just want you to know that whatever you choose is okay. You don't owe anyone this information about your past, but you also don't owe anyone keeping quiet about it to make other people comfortable. Do what feels right for you, and if you're scared of oversharing when it isn't welcome, you can always ask for consent beforehand. There are lots of people out there who will appreciate you being honest and open, and even relate to your struggles.

Good luck with everything! Sending a big virtual hug ❤️

[heathermason1983]

I was also told that she felt bad because she thought that our friend breakup was her fault and it hurt so bad to hear that because it wasn't her fault. I mean she did do lame things but i was suuuuuch a difficult person to be around and to be friends with. There was so much hatred and disappointment i had for myself and i never took care of my diabetes so i would be fucking raging and angry every day because that's what high blood sugar does to you, i kept being switched to different anxiety and depression meds which would royally fuck over my mental and emotional states each time, and i had like 0 self-reflection skills and i spent the entirety of high school trying to be someone else. If you keep lying to yourself and refuse to admit things about yourself then you'll never recognize yourself or the things you need or the emotions you feel because you lack the ability to be honest with yourself and i struggled with that for soooooo fucking long. Anyway high school sucked but mostly because i was such a shitty person. If i could redo any part of my life I would go back to high school and take care of myself more. I would take care of my diabetes and get some exercise and stop myself from turning inward and instead force myself to turn outward towards people. Remembering high school brings me so much shame because i could have done better, i could have been better, i could have been nicer. I guess that's one of the painful parts of growing up is realizing how big of an idiot you've been.

[padme-amitabha]

The only reason why your shitty films (the prequels) are even well liked today is CLONE WARS that’s why Hayden came back because anakin was finally a loved character because of CLONE WARS and Padme was finally a misogynist free character in the show, every character in the prequels have interchangeable dialogue because it’s boring (except for yoda for obvious reasons) and aside from sidious and obi wan rots is a overrated film, like I said tcw saved the prequels and tcw>pt and ashoka>padme☺️☺️☺️

Awww this must be your lucky day that I'm bothering to answer this instead of blocking you straight away like I should. People like you are the reason child actors are bullied and creators are forced to sell their stories.

The only reason why your shitty films (the prequels) are even well liked today is CLONE WARS

Because there are so many people like you who don't have the brains to understand what a movie is conveying and the style OR theme of the original films. But forget all that because YOU like to see the characters in someone else's story the way you want them to be, right? Quantity is not ✨quality✨ .

that’s why Hayden came back because anakin was finally a loved character because of CLONE WARS

Is that why you TCW stans erased the character he played? And prefer Matt Lanter as Anakin to the point even his face was used as inspiration for Anakin in some games and Anakin Pop funko. If anything it was erasing Hayden's Anakin in favor of your STEREOTYPICAL smooth, likable "hero". TCW is just fixing complaints about the character. How is it a good story if you have to change original characters based on what some fans think? You got fanfiction for that. Anakin never needed to be loved. GL wanted Vader to be understood. To be loved or liked just means fan service to your personal headcanons about Vader.

and Padme was finally a misogynist free character in the show

Because a woman who wanted to raise a family, didn't feel like living and chose not to but don't let her and rob her of making her own choices am I right? Shame her for making her own choices and prefer killing her by a man? Also, sideline her from being the main character to make space for a younger, more "fun" one. Portray her as jealous and petty and more open to entertaining men like her exes when she showed no signs of it before? Make her only involved in plots related to her work than showing what she personally likes or taking breaks and living? PEAK feminism. Forcing her to live and ignore her depression and feelings because women can't feel emotions am I right? I feel like it's femininity as a whole you guys hate and just want female characters to be more masculine to be strong.

every character in the prequels have interchangeable dialogue because it’s boring (except for yoda for obvious reasons)

Oops, I think I have seen the way TCW characters act in many MANY shows. Charming, suave, himbo, perfect guy with anger issues? His workaholic, too serious love interest who is so sick of her man? A new character close to the intended audience's age introduced just to be "relatable" who is just too perfect (and initially cartoonishly annoying). Actually, the main characters in TCW are caricatures and stereotypes. They may be LIKABLE to people like you but there's nothing unique about them. They seem more relatable because that's the kind of characters you are used to seeing.

I don't expect you to take the time to read but every prequel character has a unique voice in the prequels, especially in the books. Unlike TCW Anakin, movie Anakin isn't likable because not ALL heroes need to be and also lose duels. He is the Chosen One but he isn't overpowered. He is a hero but he is afraid. He is strong but he gets emotional. He is conflicted, stuck between following orders and wanting to rebel, Padme is stuck between wanting a family and going back to Naboo. Obi-Wan is stuck between wanting to be a brother to Anakin and also a strict Master seeing his struggles. The characters in the prequels are unique and not always likable and there's nothing wrong with that. What's wrong is fans like you wanting a world with overpowered Mary Sues and Gary Stus and wish fulfillment.

Obvious reasons? Because we saw him duel? That's all what SW is about to you, isn't it? Poor Geoge wasting so much time with research and effort when all he had to do was release some games so you guys can enjoy DUELS and badassness.

and aside from sidious and obi wan rots is a overrated film like I said tcw saved the prequels and tcw>pt and ashoka>padme☺️☺️☺️

"For obvious reasons" I can see why you would fail to notice every single detail of the film and the depth and how it faithfully follows the other sw movies.

Yes, a fourteen year old character who is just the female version of the main character in terms of personality is much better than a flawed, complex woman inspired by historical works and mythological figures. Are you sure you wouldn't rather be reading fanfiction with OCs instead?

TCW DID save the prequels for people like you. It was made to dumb down the story so younger audiences AND people like you can understand and appreciate the story. 😊

Please stop sending opinions to blogs that don't share your opinion. You got your own space for that. I mean what was the point of this? So we would change our opinions based on what YOU think? I think we can all think for ourselves. Adios.

[olderthannetfic]

You have way more wisdom and experience than I do and also approach topics with a lot of nuance (which I really appreciate) so I was hoping you could offer some help. If this ask is too heavy or it's too weird feel free to ignore.

I've been Poor my whole life and I've also been severely mentally ill most of my life. Mental health care isn't covered by my country's government and therapy is really expensive so I pushed on using mostly online tips and tricks to manage my depression. But that's not working anymore. I do everything I see online but it's not helping any longer. I've journaled in old school notebooks, I've worked out at home so much I'd be buff if I wasn't too underweight to gain muscle, the little food I can afford is so meticulously chosen as to be healthy that I put health food bloggers to shame and a host of other stuff people tell you will cure depression.

I recently realized that a lot of the things that happened to me as a kid were actually extremely traumatic and abusive which only added to it.

I'm desperate for any support but I can't afford therapy and I also can't just say to my friends "I need you to help me with complex trauma." that would be overstepping boundaries and also very entitled of me, so I'm definitely not doing that.

I worry that eventually it will be too much and I'll fully have a mental breakdown, which would be disastrous for me as I pay for my college myself and a mental breakdown wouldn't exactly be good for my barely above minimum wage job.

How do I prevent that? Are there any sources that can assist you when you know that realistically you can't afford therapy? Or are there books or online services that can help? Is there way to work through this right now until I save enough for a therapist. I'm at my wits end and it's starting to become obvious to those around me that I'm struggling a lot mentally. Just going through the day is soul crushing and my only motivation is the money I pay for my degree not being wasted.

This is a lot to ask from anyone, especially an online stranger, so please don't feel obligated to answer. if you can't answer that's fine and I'll probably ask Reddit again. Also if any part of this is trauma dumping please let me know as I struggle with knowing when I'm just telling people stuff and when I'm trauma dumping

--

Nah, this isn't trauma dumping. That usually involves more details of what happened to you and is often in a derailing context in an existing conversation.

Unfortunately, if there were easy answers, you'd already have found them.

The first thing is not to beat yourself up. Mental illness and poverty do a number on anybody.

All that "go jogging to feel better" shit is for people who have mild situational depression. You don't. No matter how hard you work, none of that crap is going to fix it. I mean, eating healthy couldn't hurt, but it's not your fault it didn't work. It was never going to work.

Yours is presumably a brain that needs meds, and until you can afford to pump some different chemicals into it, it's going to keep making the wrong ones and ruining your day. Health is a nice goal... Under the current circumstances, however, I think a more useful goal is just to survive. Every day above ground is a win.

As long as you're still kicking, there's always time for things to improve. You don't need to be a superhero and fix yourself right now. You just need to make it through school till you can at least focus on just the shitty job instead of the shitty job plus school. (And hopefully, a better job, eventually.) Whatever keeps you upright and heading for that goal is what you should do.

In terms of specific resources, you could try looking up the DBT resources other people have been talking about. DBT seems to be used on otherwise intractable depression, suicidal tendencies, etc. and often on people with a hot mess of a childhood.

Unstructured journaling and general "try to be healthy" stuff has not helped, so I would focus on more structured practices that involve specific homework. Meditation and mindfulness exercises may help (and are a part of DBT).

[magniloquent-raven]

31 and 42 for any character(s) you want

eyyy ty for the ask 🥰

31. most prized possession

billy has one picture of his mother.

he managed to keep some of her stuff hidden from neil. a few small things. a filigree dolphin ring she’d left by the bathroom sink, a rinsed out jam jar full of her favourite bits of sea glass, and a paperback novel with curling edges and a broken spine. he used to pester her while she was reading, ask her endless questions until she relented and read out loud for him. didn’t matter what she was reading, he barely paid attention to the stories anyways, he just liked to hear her do the voices.

and all of those things are important to him. (he keeps them in separate hiding places, in case neil ever goes looking through his things, he doesn’t want them all thrown out at once, if it comes to that.) he’s read the book dozens of times. he used to wear the ring when he was alone in his room, but he outgrew it years ago. when he has the house to himself he sorts through the sea glass, lays it all out on his bed and tries to remember the stories she told about each piece.

and he treasures all these little keepsakes, but none more than the single, faded photograph he has of the women herself. a polaroid he took when he was too young to hold the camera properly. it’s crooked, and at a weird, unflattering angle, the sun blotting out a whole corner of the photo, but her smile is still clear and visible, and that’s all that matters.

because she left when he was so young. and he worries that one day he’ll forget what she looks like.

so he looks at the picture every day. sometimes just a glance, to remind himself, and sometimes, when he’s snuck in through his window after a party, drunk and woozy and in his feelings, he’ll sit on his floor and look at it til his eyes get tired and he can’t blink away the tears anymore.

and i think that steve would have a weird relationship with possessions. like. as a teenager, stuff feels like a burden sometimes. all the things his parents bought. he isn’t allowed to complain about his parents not spending time with him because they’ve given him things instead. that they’re at least somewhat invested in keeping him alive. his dad would definitely be one of those “you’re so ungrateful, and after we fed and clothed you all these years” kind of parents.

so he has all these things that are supposed to mean something to him, but they just. don’t.

then when him and billy become tentative friends, billy decides he’s deeply and personally offended by steve’s taste in music. and he makes him a mixtape. it’s just. songs billy likes. music that doesn’t suck scribbled on the label, with a dumb little winky face drawn on the corner. it is in no way a romantic gesture, except. excep steve’s already got a massive crush on billy so, really, he couldve handed over a fucking math textbook and steve still would’ve gotten butterflies over the fact that billy thought of him at all.

and then billy listens to it with him. talks to him about it. it’s not just that billy thought of him, made something for him, but it’s an excuse to spend time with him too.

and when they start dating billy starts to give him other stuff. little things. a wonky little stuffed turtle he snagged from a claw machine while steve paid for their pizza. a piece of sea glass he found when they took a trip to the beach (he looked real serious when he handed it over, his eyes a little distant, and steve didn’t quite understand why, but the frown was easily kissed away). and a couple more mixtapes over the years. that steve would keep even when they couldn’t be played anymore.

he keeps these things in a fancy little wooden box on his dresser, all polished and shiny with gold plated hinges. full of all the things billy’s ever given him. and maybe it’s a little fucked up that sometimes he thinks he keeps these things because he needs the tangible proof that he’s loved, and that without all the little tokens of affections he’d just float untethered and unsure, but. they aren’t just things anymore, they’re memories, and love

42. hobbies

i absolutely adore the idea of post s3 billy just. doing a bunch of grandma activities lmao. his lungs and his heart are all busted up and there’s residual chest pain and he just can’t be as active as he used to be. plus he’s not as social anymore. being possessed and traumatized will do that to you. and then people start to notice that he’s stuck at home, bored and depressed. max notices. steve notices. word gets around.

and somehow their campaign to help him leads to him learning how to bake (max starts taking out cookbooks from the library and giving them to him) and taking care of plants (steve buys him cacti and herbs and anything that blooms blue) and eventually mrs henderson teaches him how to knit. (doc owens says it’ll be good for his hands, keep his fine motor skills sharp. and he doesn’t laugh. which helps)

and all of it helps keep him occupied. keep him from wallowing too much. and it’s nice to make things. keep things alive. feels like a step forward

and idk about in canon, but whether it’s an au thing or not, i love steve as an artist. he’s not great with words, and he just feels. dumb a lot of the time. he’s not intellectual. not good at school, things that his dad and his teachers tell him he’s supposed to be good at if he wants to amount to anything. but when he gets bored in class, when he just doesn’t understand the book he’s supposed to be reading, or he can’t follow along with the complicated formulas up on the board, he doodles. his notebooks are full of little drawings. caricatures of his classmates. landscape snapshots of what he can see through the window. he gets restless and his mind wanders but when he’s drawing he focuses.

and he doesn’t really show people. doesn’t tell anyone. he doesn’t think of himself as an artist, he just can’t concentrate in class so he doodles. it’s a shameful thing.

but maybe a teacher notices. takes an interest. encourages him a little. and its not much but it’s a start. lets him think about it a little more positively. he still hides it from his parents, he knows it’d just end with a lecture from his dad, but he feels less shitty about himself when he flips through his notebooks that are full of more pictures than words.

headcanon asks

[robinsarm]

Heya!! Can I get some sleepy Quentin headcanons? I'm on a "monster befriends human" kick, so maybe something involving that? You said you needed ideas, so here ya go?

Sleepy Quentin, huh, @chaoticlovingdreamer? I think I can scrounge up a couple >:3

I assume that a lot of people see Quentin as a pill or caffeine fiend, especially while he lived in the real world. But what I think some people forget is that he also has ADD/ADHD as stated by his movie. Do you understand what lack of medication and exhaustion does to a person with ADHD? It's not fun, I'll say that much.

When Quentin is really hitting the bottom of his energy tank he gets more and more distant from everyone else. He'll stop talking, start sitting further away from the fire, and intrusive/depressing thoughts start to riddle his mind. Since a healthy dose of sleep isn't on the menu for Quentin usually, he'll start to cope with his exhaustion in other ways; other ways that aren't healthy and can be left up to the imagination for now.

Some of the survivors that have been there the longest have learned to spot these signs from Quentin before he begins "coping". They'll immediately get up and take him for walks or bring him back to the fire and in front of 20+ other sets of eyes. Claudette, Ace, Meg, and Laurie are usually the nicest and manage to cheer him up faster than anyone else. Steve, in recent years, has also grown to notice and make sure his teammate is okay.

Have you ever seen the joke of someone getting hit in the head on a cartoon and they fall flat on their face, knocked out? Visualize that, and realize Quentin does that on a regular basis just without the hitting part. Like someone with narcolepsy, when Quentin’s brain and body are tired of being awake, he’s out like a light; heaven forbid he’s standing near anything sharp when this happens. From time to time, Quentin will just suddenly fold like a GMOD player hit their kill key. There’s no waking him up for a while after that. So far, it’s never happened in a trial; who knows why, Quentin is just grateful for that much. 

When Quentin is tired and actually decides that he’d rather sleep then Collapse™, he will pass out just about anywhere. On the logs, in the bushes, up a tree (won’t do that anymore because he’s prone to falling out of said trees), on someone. Quentin has no shame when it comes to finding a place to rest his head for a minute and the others, for the most part, are fully understanding.  

Sleepy Quentin can also be confused with what Drunk Quentin would look like, only in his movements, however. I’d compare it to those really yanking pulls that Boiled Over can do in-game that just send the killer 5 meters to the left. Yeah...Quentin will do that a lot when he’s really tired. It’s normal to see him firmly planted on the ground when he’s extra tired just so he doesn’t fall into something or someone. (He took out a game of Blackjack that Ace and Bill were playing and felt incredibly bad afterwards) If Quentin can help it, he won’t move when he’s on the very verge of passing out. 

Not so much headcanons but two scenarios I’d like to imagine have happened to Quentin:

I.

Quentin doesn’t sleep due to Freddy’s constant torment that he resumes every time the survivor falls asleep. But Quentin isn’t the only one Freddy torments. It’s been known that Freddy will hop from person to person if Quentin goes for too long without sleeping. However, the killer once made the mistake of pulling the same shit on the Legion which earned him a proper beating from the four teens afterwards. Because of this, the Legion made sure that the Nightmare can’t enter Ormond unless he’s in a trial. 

(I have a personal headcanon that killers can ask the Entity to block a different killer from entering their realm if given proper reasoning, and that’s how I’d see the Legion being able to keep Freddy out of Ormond)

Quentin, by an odd string of occurrences, ends up at Ormond and gets to talking to the killers - since they’re in a good mood. One of them brings up how shitty Quentin looks and actually offers if he’d want to sleep there for a bit. Quentin, taken slightly off guard, shrugs the invitation off, explaining Freddy would just show up and start attacking him again. The Legion, ever so boastful, counters with their story and clue him in on the fact that the Nightmare can’t enter the realm outside of a trial. Quentin’s not buying it but the killers insist just to prove themselves right, eventually having to hold the boy at knife-point to get him to stay and sleep. After a three hour, uninterrupted nap, Quentin wakes up and realizes they were telling the truth.

Regardless, Quentin doesn’t trust the Legion. However, if he’s feeling exceptionally tired and has a few 100k bloodpoints lying around, Quentin will pay the Legion to let him sleep for a few hours, undisturbed. They’re happy to take his money and he’s happy to sleep off his exhaustion.

Still, Quentin does sleep at the fire on occasion; he does only because of the fact Freddy wants him. If Freddy can’t get to Quentin, he’ll start tormenting and hurting his friends. Since Quentin doesn’t want that, he keeps his trips to Ormond few and far between. 

II.

There’s one killer Quentin never thought in his life he’d manage to “befriend” outside of trials. Slinger is a fat no; the man is still a hard-ass to everyone other than Zarina. The Yamaoka family keep to themselves and kill anything on sight. The original four are apathetic towards everyone. Michael, Freddy, Ghostface, Pinhead, Nemesis, Pyramidhead - all psychopathic monstrosities that earned their own circle in hell. I could go on.

No, of all the killers to actually show any sort of compassion (or just lack of hostility) towards Quentin was the Demogorgon. 

It started during a horribly unfortunate trial on Azarov’s. Felix and Yun-Jin were long since dead, leaving only Quentin and Feng to do the last two generators. The thing was, Feng seemed to be trying her absolute hardest to screw Quentin over every time the killer got close. She ran in front of him while they were both running from the killer, she blocked pallets, blocked windows, if the killer got close she immediately hid behind anything large enough. Sure she apologized at the beginning of the trial, but those quickly trailed off. Quentin just wasn’t in the mood for it. So, when he went down for his third and final time due to Feng’s not-so-subtle body blocking, Demo surprised both of them by not picking up the boy immediately. Instead, the killer hunted down Feng (for all of 20 seconds) and threw her onto a hook immediately, not leaving her until she was dead and gone. Quentin had the foresight to bring Unbreakable before entering the trial, so, by the time Feng had reached second stage, he was up and running. 

Even though hatch was visible before Feng died Quentin couldn’t find the damn thing to, literally, save his life. As he ran back into the territory where the killer was last, Quentin’s hope began to dwindle more and more as he heard and saw nothing. Demo, seeming to appear out of thin air, found him first and shred-tackled him into the dirt. On his back, Quentin thought he was going to be mori’d for sure, but then something...worse happened. The killer regurgitated Feng’s med kit onto his chest then stepped off and away from Quentin. Quentin didn’t know whether to thank the killer or puke himself. The amount of slime and saliva that drenched his clothing and neck had him pressing his mouth shut tight. What the hell is this killer doing? was the only thought in Quentin’s mind as he pealed the kit from his chest. 

Quentin didn’t believe that Demo could sit on his haunches like a dog before that trial, but he does now. 

The killer only watched as Quentin used the non-soaked medical supplies on himself until he was fully healed. Afterwards, the killer rose and started walking towards the killer shack. When Demo realized Quentin wasn’t following, it turned back, pathed behind the survivor, and herded him towards the decrepit building. Quentin had seen a lot when it came to weird shit, but this experience was quickly climbing the list. Rounding the far corner of the shack, Quentin found the hatch humming where it usually was. He turned and saw the Demogorgon, not trying to stop him but lying down like it was ready to take a nap. 

Quentin pointed to the hatch with his free hand. “I can have that?” The killer, not understanding human speech, looked down at the hatch then back up to Quentin. The survivor figured that was good of an answer as any, thanked the killer with a shaky voice, and hopped into the backdoor exit. 

Ever since that trial, Quentin has had this weird relationship with the Demogorgon. It’s fully based off the killer’s mood at the time, but for the most part, the pair seem to respect one another at the very least. Some trials, Demo will slaughter everyone mercilessly; others, the killer attacks everyone but Quentin. The survivor hasn’t found any rhyme or reason to the killer’s decision on how to treat him that day, but he’s grateful for the break when they come. 

[goffilolo]

Revival of Midoriya Izuku: Chapter 4 "My depression may be chronic, but my ass is iconic"

I bet you didn't think you were ever gonna see an update. well neither did I. What can I say? writing with a broken hand is a struggle.

Link to the fic on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16929483/chapters/81090403

Izuku’s first day of high school was interesting, to say the least, or it would’ve been if he actually went to school instead of spreading mayhem amongst UA’s first years. Shinjuku Metropolitan has been rather lenient in regards to his attendance or lack of thereof, thanks to whatever bullshit Shin wrote to the school on his behalf to ensure that the faculty would accommodate his ‘condition’. Which is just fancy wording for ‘I got a get out of school card’. Truth be told, this is probably the best thing that the doctor has ever done for him since Izuku was nowhere near ready to return to mainstream education, not after everything that has happened in middle school. The last thing he needed were looks of pity and guilt-induced niceties from people who otherwise had no problem laughing at his misfortune.

So instead Izuku has decided to spend his time productively - if you could count tormenting your ex-childhood friend and having an accidental family reunion as such.

Uncle Shouta always had a bit of a mean streak to him, although it never really felt as such when Izuku himself interacted with him. From what little of his childhood he could remember that didn’t involve trauma and discrimination, his uncle was a somewhat kind, but grumpy man. He believed in a brand of tough love - that somehow did not correspond with the way his mother raised him in the slightest and went above and beyond for things and people he held close to his heart. Sure they haven’t seen each other since Izuku was 4, but if his uncle’s empty threats from today’s Quirk Apprehension Test are anything to go by, not much has changed.

Which brings him back to now; sitting in an empty classroom that he does not belong to - a school that he does not belong to, writing down his ever-so-detailed notes about the quirks he will only be able to admire from afar. Not much has changed , indeed.

It almost feels like a betrayal. Almost , being the operative word, because he has no reason to cling onto the things that he no longer cares about - should no longer care about, for they had died along with him that day on the roof, and were properly buried within the four walls that Izuku called his own during his stay in the hospital.

But well...looks like today Izuku is in a mood to dig up old corpses.

Metaphorically, that is.

“God, you’re still here!”

“Kacchan we’ve talked about this” he replied, rather dramatically “God is dead and all that’s left is me”

Kacchan clearly did not appreciate his superior sense of humour, if the lack of response is anything to go by. “No seriously, why are you still here?”

“I could ask you the same”

“I actually study here you fuckwit!” the blond exclaimed in his ever explosive fashion “Besides I had to come back and get my change of clothes since that demonic pet of yours was sitting on them when we were all leaving for the test”

“Huh, that actually reminds me...where’s Bandit?”

“Oi, don’t change the subject you shitty Deku” replied Bakugou, as he kicked one of the chairs over towards the desk that was currently occupied by Izuku and slumped down in it in a way that would perhaps appear as non-caring to absolutely no one “I didn’t know your uncle was a pro-hero.”

Ah, so that’s what he was bothered about.

“That makes the two of us”

“Wait, really?!”

“Honestly Kacchan! Did you really think that IF I knew my uncle was a pro-hero that I would be able to ever shut up about it?”

“No way in hell!”

“Exactly!”

Well, now that the topic of his uncle has been cleared up, there wasn’t much else to talk about, at least not much that wouldn’t result in collateral damage or a Bakugou shitshow 2.0. Both of the boys were well aware of it of course, but let it never be said that either of them could be stopped by things like common sense, especially when it came to avoiding conversational land mines.

“So...what are you scribbling over here?” asked Bakugou in a rather poor and possibly the most awkward attempt at establishing small talk that has ever been known to man and sheep kind alike.

“Ok, no! That is not happening” snapped Izuku, who very much saw where this was going and was having none of it “We are NOT having a civil conversation!”

“Why the fuck not?!” replied the blond, his anger as booming and apparent as his quirk.

“Because that is not something we DO Kacchan!” shouted the teen, banging his hands against the desk, his notebook long forgotten.

“Well, maybe we should?!” exclaimed Bakugou, who was quick to anger, yet quicker to notice his ex-friend’s unusual mood as he tried to make an effort to de-escalate the situation.

“Oh? Should we really? !” sneered Izuku, feeling the kind of anger and disdain he hasn’t felt in a long time, not since that fateful day in the ward.

“That’s rich coming from you” he continued as he stood up form the chair, unable to keep still in his fury as he circled the classroom “All you ever did was shout at me, insult me and throw baseless accusations at me left and right for god knows how long, but suddenly YOU want to have a conversation with me? Isn’t it enough that we kinda talked about our feelings that one time when I was still stuck in the psych ward?!”

Honestly, what do you expect Kacchan?” asked Izuku, feeling raw and hysteric and all kinds of wrong, spilling his metaphorical guts to his ex-bully/friend “That we will just start having normal conversations like nothing ever happened, act like we’re friends or some shit? Because let’s be honest, we haven’t been friends for a very long time, that ship has sunk long before I even attempted suicide! ”

“Don’t you think I know that?!” screamed Bakugou, feeling equally angry, but mostly out of his depth in the situation. He expected Deku to possibly mock him for his awkward attempts at small talk. What the blond didn’t expect was for him to snap, in a way that was somewhat familiar but not quite, as even the few times they’ve spoken back when Izuku was in the hospital or when he got released, his tempter felt controlled in a way it was not at the moment. Katsuki wasn’t sure what exactly triggered such a strong response, but he was not looking forward to having another fight, at least not one initiated by him.

“I’m not trying to pretend it didn’t happen” he explained “I just want to move forward. I’m not the same asshole I was last year and neither are you, so I don’t want to be stuck on how things used to be ! It makes me feel like I’m going nowhere.”

“Ok! Fine! You wanna talk?! Then let me fuckin TELL you something! You asked me what I was ‘scribbling’ over here?” exclaims Izuku, as he stomps his way back towards the desk and snatches his notebook, waving it aggressively in front of Bakugou “IT’S THE SAME STUFF I’VE BEEN SCRIBBLING THE ENTIRE GODDAMN TIME!” he screamed “Those quirk analysis notebooks you used to mock me for? It’s another one of those because as it turns out  I still AM the same asshole I was last year! Now then, can YOU tell ME how many of those I’ve had?”

“Thirteen…” mutters Bakugou, feeling like he’s walking into a proverbial trap.

“Good boy, you can count! Now, can you tell me what number does it say on this one?” sneers Izuku sarcastically as he points once again at the notebook in question.

“Is this a trick question? There’s fuckin nothing on it”

“EXACTLY! And you want to know why?” screamed the distressed teen, no longer feeling angry, but tired and vulnerable, unable to stop himself from having a conversation he didn’t even want to be a part of “Because these notes used to serve a purpose, a purpose I no longer have. Hero Analysis for the Future , to be exact. But guess what Kacchan…” he whispered, no longer looking at the red eyes that used to bring him so much pain “...I no longer have a future…”

The blond hung his head in shame as he listened to his childhood friend break down in tears while hiding his face behind the very notebook that started their argument, all the while Trash Bandit who woke up due to their screaming was trying to get his owner’s attention with pathetically quiet ‘baaah’s.

“You have the right to be angry with me, after all this shit I put you through” stated Bakugou after what felt like an endless silence broken only by Izuku’s stuttering sobs. He never thought of himself as a coward, but at this moment he could not find enough bravery to sit face to face with the crying teen.

“I KNOW that you shithead-” replied Izuku as he shakily tried to take a breath in between the sobs “-but what good is that gonna do?! You’ve actually admitted that the way you treated me was wrong, hell you even voluntarily went to therapy! You’re basically going through a whole-ass redemption arc and what do I do? * sob * I’m still stuck in the past and I can’t let go of my grudges, which isn’t doing me or you any favours. I’ve told you to get your shit together, and this is exactly what you’re trying to do and instead of being h-* hic *- happy for you I’m mad-”

His rant broke off as he took another breath with tears still rolling down the freckled cheeks despite the boy’s best efforts. Izuku slumped down in his seat and with shaking hands he took out a cigarette and lighter from his backpack that was still hanging by the hook on the side of the desk. And although putting the cigarette in his mouth was relatively easy, lighting it was another matter. As Izuku grew more frustrated with the quiver in his hands, so did Bakugou. The blond became impatient as he grumbled “give it here damn it” much more quietly and gently than he normally would’ve done as he leaned forward, all the while grabbing the other teen by his shoulder with one hand, as he used to the other to quickly light the cigarette with a small explosion. Izuku’s flinch at the sudden but familiar noise and heat did not go unnoticed.

To say that Izuku was shocked by his ex-friend’s action would’ve been an understatement, but he was pleased nonetheless. If anything it proved his point that Kacchan was trying to be nicer to him, even if the attempts were somewhat awkward. The freckled teen, feeling only marginally better, leaned back in his chair facing the ceiling as he continued to blow circles of smoke up into the air, trying to regain his original train of thought.

“You’d think they would have a fire alarm in here or something” mused Bakugou as he stared at the disappearing circles.

“Hmm” replied Izuku, absentmindedly “You’d think”

The silence has once again stretched between the 2 boys, although this time it felt less oppressive in its need to be filled. Bakugou was happy to wait for Deku to finish what he started, it was the least the blond could do seeing as he was at fault for the current state of things between them.

“I’m so fuckin angry...” stated Izuku as he crashed the burnt out cigarette against the desk, which Bakugou conviniently ignored seeing as the desk was his. “I’m so fuckin angry-” he repeated despite his tone and words not matching at all “-because this proves that you could’ve gotten your shit together this whole time” he continues while gesturing vaguely between the two of them.

“You could’ve stopped this bullshit and apologised to me!” exclaims Izuku in a tone that is half resigned and half accusing “You could’ve spared me the misery, and yet you didn’t. I feel like I’ve suffered for nothing-”

“You did!” interrupted the blond.

“What?”

“You’ve suffered for nothing” clarified Bakugou “There’s literally NO good reason for you to have gone through even half the shit you did”

“I dunno about that Kacchan” teased Izuku “I’m pretty sure the reason is sitting right in front of me”

“I said no good reason damn it, don’t go around twisting my words you fuckin Deku!”

And Izuku couldn’t help but break out in laughter, because he was pretty sure that this was the first time ever that Bakugou had made a joke at his own expense and this moment was going to live in his brain rent free from now on.

“Oh God, Kacchan-” he wheezed, trying to stop himself from laughing “You were right, you really aren't the same asshole that you were last year!”

“I sure fuckin hope not” replied Bakgou who was just as close to laughing “Otherwise I would’ve had to demand refund for all of those shitty therapy sessions”

“Look at us Kacchan” said Izuku, his laugh now subdued “We’re still a fuckin mess”

“I guess we are” agreed the blond as he stared down at his friend’s notebook in a thoughtful expression.

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

After the truthfully embarrassing heart-to-heart with Kacchan, Izuku wanted to do nothing more than sink into the void for the next eternity, or at least until he gets his reminder text that he’s running late for yet another therapy session. Unfortunately neither of these options were viable seeing as he was on a self-appointed mission to catch up to his uncle. The boy hoped that uncle Shouta would still be somewhere on the premises seeing as his ugly-ass sleeping bag was still in the classroom. Izuku used that to his advantage as he gave the sleeping bag to Bandit who promptly sniffed it and began to follow the scent of a premature-midlife-crisis. Who knew that sheep could make such good hounds?

Bandit had dutifully led their owner through an ever inconvenient maze of corridors, which eventually ended with the two entering the teacher’s lounge like they had every right to be there (which they kinda did, shoutout to Nedzu!). As expected, Izuku’s uncle was in the lounge, surrounded by fellow members of staff as they tried (unsuccessfully, at least by Izuku’s standards) to get any information out of him regarding his class this year. Uncle Shouta for the most part looked like he’d rather be doing anything else and so Izuku has made an executive decision to insert himself obnoxiously into the situation.

“In my humble opinion-” he said, as he sat down next to his uncle, while Bandit jumped up on his lap “that Mineta kid should’ve been expelled. Like, we get it uncle, he has potential ” continued Izuku, as he spat the word distastefully “But how far is that potential gonna get him when all he does is harass the entire female population, like every other mediocre straight guy with self awareness of a sea cucumber?”

“A sea cucumber? Really?” asked uncle Shouta, sounding like the unimpressed bitch that he is.

“I mean don’t get me wrong” he continues, completely ignoring the unnecessary commentary “Straight people are already embarrassing as they are, but this guy is on another level, the kinda level that usually leads to a straight jacket, am I right?! Hah- I just made a pun!”

“The little listener does have a point, Shouta” replied Present Mic.

“Also, did he just say uncle ? Shouta, is there anything you’d like to tell us?” asked Midnight, you know, like a traitor.

“No”

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

It wasn’t until they walked past the gates of the school that his uncle finally stopped in his tracks to voice at least a portion of the questions that have been bubbling in his mind since the impromptu family reunion with his nephew.

“Izuku” says Shouta, with as much concern as an uncle-who-you-haven’t-seen-in-almost-a-decade is allowed to voice “What the fuck?”

“Look, I heard that question far too often in my lifetime, mostly from my therapist, so you’re gonna have to be a bit more specific” replies Izuku sounding like the unimpressed bitch that he hopes to evolve into through the sheer power of genetics and generational trauma.

“Look kid-” says the hobo looking man that has the privilege of being related to Izuku as he puts his hands together, takes a deep breath and prays to whichever God he believes is not yet dead for some guidance on how to handle this “-as much as I’d love to elaborate on the sheer amount of confusion I am experiencing right now due to your questionable way of life, I do actually have to go on a patrol so this conversation is gonna have to be postponed. In the meanwhile give your mother my regards, and I’ll hopefully see you in the near future when you decide once again to wreak havoc in my classroom.”

“No” replies the freckled teen in a total disregard for other people’s prior engagements, thus truly earning his title of a problem child.

“What do you mean no ? Izuku, I have a job to do!”

Instead of replying, Izuku has decided to simply pull a pro-gamer move, by quickly taking out a familiar pair of handcuffs from the side pocket of his backpack, cuffing one side to his uncle’s hand and the other to his own. That on its own is probably not particularly impressive, however it is the speed of the action that has earned it the title of a pro-gamer move, which Izuku is quite proud of. His uncle on the other hand is definitely less so, looking at his cuffed wrist like it has somewhat betrayed him.

“Please tell me you did not just do that”

“I did not just do that”

After wasting about 10 minutes of his life on fruitless struggle of trying to get the handcuffs off like an untrained dog trying to chew off its own leash, Aizawa Shouta; the underground hero Eraserhead, the infamous Erasure Hero has slumped in defeat, internally swearing to himself to one day get revenge on his unruly nephew.

“God, I am so going to have a talk with my sister about this” he says, as if a threat of authority had any meaning to the green headed teen.

“Yeah, no shit, that’s the whole point, we’re going to my house now” replies the teen, completely disregarding any attempt at ‘ an adult asserting their authority ’ over him.

“I still have to go on a patrol tonight” repeats Shouta, as if it was somewhat relevant.

“That sounds like a you problem”

[beelspillowpet]

MC with Bipolar Disorder

A request from an associate on discord! Please be aware, I myself do not have any forms of Bipolar. I have done some research on the disorder and have spoken to the requester about their personal experiences. I do mean well ✨✨✨

This is a long read so it goes under a cut!

CONTENT WARNING FOR DEEPLY DEPPRESSED BEHAVIOR!!! Also spoilers of chapter 16 ahead!

~

Lucifer

He suspects you are just a very snappy individual. You can be fine one moment, and absolutely livid the next for little to no reason. There have been a few times where he’s had to check your attitude for you, and usually afterwards he finds you in your room, in a depressed episode.

He doesn’t think he was that harsh with you but regardless wants to ensure you that he isn’t truly angry with you. You rarely listen to what he has to say after the fact, and just stay locked up in your room silently, making him worry more. Some days pass and you end up leaving your room finally, but not much has changed in your depressive state.

You’re still in a deep depression, a very startling trait that Lucifer finds disturbing. He watches you when you lament quietly, and seem like a lifeless version of the angry you just days ago. He suggests to take you out on the town- a sort of apology in his own way. You did always like traveling about, but now you seemed deeply uninterested. His worry tenfold.

Once your episodes are over, he tries his best to assure you that you are welcomed in the HoL. His snappy behavior dies down a bit when you get angrier and have rapid mood swings. He knows by now that it’s just the start of those mania episodes, and secretly, it scares him that you may do something that you’ll regret.

Mammon

He’s used to people getting pissed off with him, but he’s not used to what comes after it. You’re not really depressed, but you are struggling to get to sleep. In fact, over the past few days, he’d say you haven’t slept at all. It’s starting to stress him out by this point. It was his only duty to look after you, and he feels like a failure for not being able to do that right.

You’re still very snappy with everyone, he suspects it’s your lack of sleep, but you insist that you’re full of energy. He’s not buying it, not by that dead look in your eyes. He can tell you’re starting to shift moods again, by that forlorn look when you stare off into the distance. He knows the quiet is coming AFTER the storm.

Once enjoyable activities like going to Majolish or even playing poker with him are the last things you want to do. You still aren’t getting much sleep and Mammon is pulling his hair out over it all. Has he just broken you?

Even the thought of hurting Mammon over your own depressive episodes makes your depression spiral out of control. He’s caught you hurting YOURSELF over these thoughts and nearly had a panic attack trying to explain to you NOT to do that. He loves and cares about you too much to allow you to do something so drastic. He’s trying, and he wants you to know that. He’ll do whatever it takes you fight your demons for you.

Leviathan

He didn’t expect you to get so excited when he talked about going to a concert for Sucre Frenzy. Sure, he got you a spare ticket because he was lucky about the mail mans little fluke, but still. When the two of you arrived, you were all over the place. You were partying with other demons, and Leviathan was worried one of them might attack and eat your soul if you weren’t careful. He caught you trying to wander off with a demon and put a stop to it promptly.

The result was you lashing out at him, embarrassing him in front of others. After you finally managed to calm down enough, the two of you headed home. You weren’t speaking to him, and could already tell that Leviathan was shutting himself down emotionally. Over the next few days, he’s quiet. Not texting you, not looking your way, not even sitting near you at lunch.

It’s when he texts you a short and simple explanation on why he stopped you from going off with that demon did you break. You never felt so much emotion in such a short explanation, and the apology only made it worse. Leviathan was only trying to help keep you safe, and you snapped at him.

Your depressive state takes full swing, and you don’t speak, you barely eat, or register people around you. You hide in the planetarium since no one ever really goes there except Belphie occasionally. Anything is better than staying in your room, where it’s too close to everyone else. Leviathan eventually finds you there, and despite his fears of upsetting you further, he sits near, and puts his arms around you. He didn’t know his Henry struggled with such severe problems, but the Lord of Shadows will never give up on his friend.

Satan

You know what’s a bad mix? Wrath with Bipolar MC. The two of you are less than friendly at first. It’s small things like eye rolling and huffs that keep you two at each others throats. For a while it seems like everyone suspects a fight to break out between you two. Satan can only keep up his act for so long.

You overhear the brothers talking about Satan and how surprised they are he’s been keeping himself relatively cool so far. You envy that. Deeply. So much so that it nearly puts Leviathan to shame over it. You wish you had better control over your emotions, Satan apparently makes it look SO easy.

With all these feelings swirling around inside of you, you can’t help but feel like the strongest of them is your depression. You never let any of them in on it, but it’s obvious in the way you act. It startles everyone when Satan keeps up that petty temperamental attitude with you, and, expecting you to fire back with the same, you just sigh sadly and go back to your tasks, with little energy left. A win in the angry war for Satan, but at what costs?

He’s an attentive person. He can tell with how you act that you aren’t getting much sleep. Your grades are slipping, and you’re hardly in the moment with anything going on around you. He does a bit of research and thankfully has his answer on what the problem is. He had no idea he was fueling your anger management issues with his own. From that point forward, he works extra hard to keep his own problems in control, so to not burden you further.

Asmodeus

Being an empath, he has managed to steer away from your anger. But it only takes but so long before he falls victim to your mood swings. Unfortunately, this time, you were angry at him simple because he didn’t think of getting you a bottle of your favorite perfume, even though he asked you if you wanted anything.

He was more than willing to try and accommodate you by giving you his own, but the damage had been done. You ended up slapping the bottle out of his hand, startling him, and it sent him running off to his room in tears. Needless to say, afterwards you felt shitty for your behavior.

It was just a bottle of perfume. Why did you blow up over it? And poor Asmo, he always seemed so nice and friendly whenever he saw you. A bit too close for your comfort zone, but you figured the Avatar of Lust was a very physical person. To see him in such a state of sadness made your own sadness consume you.

You both stayed in your own rooms for a long time. You much more than him. In fact, he was worried, even though he was scared of you, that you weren’t taking care of yourself. When he finally worked up the courage to peer into your room, he shrieked. He rushed to get you help, fearing the worse. When you woke up in the hospital bed, Asmodeus was right there by your side. He was in tears still, but all he could do was put his hand over yours, glad that you were still with him.

Beelzebub

The first time you yell at Beelzebub, it’s of course, over food. He had eaten something that you bought to eat for a snack later that very day. You know Beel never means to do things like that. It sort of... comes with being the Avatar of Gluttony. It’s in his nature to consume endlessly, and you’ve known this from the start with his constant complaints of being hungry. This time, however, you snapped.

You really hurt his feelings with the way you spoke to him. Being the emotionally mature brother, he sat there and took the abuse. Maybe to punish himself for doing something so thoughtless. You were really looking forward to that snack, after all.

It unfortunately got to be too much, and Beel had to excuse himself. He was on the brink of tears, and he hardly ever cries. His brothers found him very quickly, wrapped up in his emotions. They were huddling around, comforting him. When you came back and saw how they were babying Beel and not even trying to comfort you, you felt betrayed. You were the victim in all this, not Beel.

But Beel is their brother, and you’re just a human. A human with a nasty case of Bipolar Disorder. Of course they didn’t care about you- they never did. They were demons after all, demon brothers at that. They stuck together, and you were the odd one out. Instead of telling them how you felt, it seemed futile. How could you explain away going off on one of the babies of the family like that.? You couldn’t. So you crept off to your room, and were silent ever since.

Belphegor

The other brother who won’t take shit from you. You two go at it like cats and dogs. The only difference is Belphie has hand the upper hand once before. He never resorts to getting that angry with you ever again though, and instead will leave when you start showing that angry side of you again.

To have that much self control to just walk away instead of attacking you again? You felt ashamed. How come you didn’t have the restraint to be able to combat these issues? Belphie attacked and murdered you at least twice now, and he regrets doing that. He’s actively taking steps to avoid it, and yet you haven’t changed at all.

You aren’t sure if you’re more angry about that or jealous. You hope it’s not the jealousy. It’s such a stupid thing to be angry about, especially considering it’s something you can’t help anyways. Even with the medication. 

When you hide in your room and struggle with your sleeping, your thoughts are mostly occupied with the last time Belphie and you argued. Right before he killed you, when you managed to piss him off enough. You spend way too much time thinking about it, and you’re tempted to try and corner him in the attic to make him lash out again. It’s when He opens your door, after not seeing you for nearly a week, does he come crawling back to your side of the bed. He curls up next to you silently, staring at you. You can tell what he’s thinking; that he’s not going to hurt you. You’re sort of glad that he’s changed, after all. At least you have a pillar of support in your life.

[wildfey]

Anon from yesterday back again! About the set-up, a post on twitter explained the theory much better and I gotta look up the name. The gist is that Phoenix could've proved that he was set up. He did not have the time to have a forgery done since he got the job for defending Zak only the day before. Plus the money. Instead, there is no evidence at all he even tried. Why? Because he'd seen the courts' corruption before and decided it didn't matter anymore, plus too dangerous.

(continued) You could even point at his reply to the Judge's words and wonder if Phoenix has nothing to say because he knows it's useless to argue. Hidden powers have already decided that they will attack him and try to drag him down.

okay, okay, hello again anon, good to see you back with another excellent ask.

I always think that there are two ways to look at Phoenix's disbarment:

a) that the problem was straight-up with bringing forged evidence into court, no matter what the circumstances were.

b) that the problem was that Phoenix was assumed to have created the forged evidence and bought it into court intentionally.

Ace Attorney really flips around on which of these is true in universe (it's a plot point to some extent in 1-5, 3-3, 4-1, and 4-4) but considering that Phoenix gets his badge back almost immediately after it's proved that the second wasn't the case, I'm going to assume that presenting forged evidence accidentally is either not an issue or less of an issue. This tends to be the fanon majority stance too. (It's worth noting that Edgeworth is implied to have pulled some strings irt getting Phoenix's badge back. Ymmv and so on.)

With our framework safely in place, the question arises: If Phoenix could have avoided punishment, or at least public shaming, by revealing the set-up, why wouldn't he? As you point out, the forgery doesn't make sense once you start to look into it and we know that Phoenix did put a lot of these pieces together. Hell, he could have made these arguments when Misham testified during the Gramarye trial. But he doesn't. (Warning: this is a more headcanon-y meta than my last one, because the 7yg is... a gap and we have very little concrete info on what the fuck Phoenix was up to. He got a kid, worked on jury trials, played good poker + bad piano, and had some sort of frenemyship with Kristoph. That's pretty much all we've got).

Firstly: Corruption. The AA court system is ridiculously corrupt, and at the point that Phoenix is disbarred, he becomes emblematic of this - he's a man with a history of revealing injustice - notably Von Karma & Gant, but even without them he still won some high profile cases - and once he's disbarred, it's implied that the narrative is flipped, turning him into a figurehead for that which he fought against (dark age of the law, etc). The obvious conclusion is that his disbarment was a convenient way to discredit him - powerful and corrupt figures (and in AA there are many) don't need to fear Phoenix Wright if he isn't a lawyer and his reputation is ruined. The counter argument is that Phoenix... has always done some questionable things with evidence (1-5, 2-4, and 3-3 stand out to me). But no more so than anyone else in this fucked-up universe. Either way, Phoenix has always worked in a system stacked against him, and it's very possible that he suspected there to be manoevering behind the scenes (and there was! We know Kristoph existed and was purposefully working against Phoenix.) HOWEVER, I don't believe that any of this would stop him on it's own, because it's been long established that Phoenix Wright does not give a shit about bad odds.

So, what would make him accept it? Anon, you mention danger in your ask, and I do see that as partially true - Phoenix isn't concerned about danger to himself, but he has a kid to care for. I would say, however, that especially when we come to Kristoph, as much of a bastard as he is, Phoenix had no evidence that he could be violent to the point of murder until 4-1. Before that, his influence was long-distance life ruining, rather than active threat (though long-distance life ruining is pretty scary on its own when you're raising a small child with low funds). I do see that as a cause, but one of many, and this is the point where I'd like to go back to the conversation on motivation.

I am going to make the argument here, as I did in the other answer, that Phoenix, in the 7yg and possibly elsewhere, is depressed, and that one symptom of that is a loss of motivation. It's implied by the game itself, and makes more sense than most of the alternatives.

(I won't get too personal, but the years of my life where I dressed like this... not good years lol)

My headcanon has always been that by the point that Phoenix had sorted out his guardianship of Trucy and got himself out of that initial low that came from having his life ruined, it was too late to fix his disbarment and he had to change tracks, and that's when he became interested in MASON. (Not to self-promote, but I'm realising that a lot of what I've said here is rephrased ideas from The Path Once So Clear, so if you want 15,000-ish words on the subject, it's there). Of course, when talking about Phoenix's 7yg depression, I think it's also important to mention that Phoenix in AA4 is very much implied to be putting on an act (which is pretty common in AA4 in general. Most characters in that game have both a public and private face). Being 'Beanix' - eg. the piano/poker player with no prospects who works in a shitty restaurant and takes nothing seriously - is a convenient cover while he works on the things that he doesn't want to be targeted for (and here we come back to the corruption angle).

As to how far the depression helps that act... well, that could be a whole conversation on its own. Once again, I'm very much coming into headcanon here, but I'm reminded of the phenomenon where someone with depression will deliberately exacerbate it, either as a form of self-harm or as some attempt to fit a role (artists are especially prone, due to the 'depressed artist' stereotype. I see it most in the emo scene). Beanix has always seemed to me as someone who is deliberately messing up his own life - he repeatedly provokes Apollo, essentially sabotaging their relationship, he puts himself into dangerous situations for no real reason (this is a general Phoenix trait), and despite the fact that we KNOW Maya and Edgeworth were supportive of him during this period, we never actually see them around, presumably because he's keeping them at a distance. How much of this is for the act, and how much is real?

Again, we've come very much off topic (whoops) but I see a lot of this as another aspect of Phoenix's low self worth - is there a difference between the image he projects of a man who has given up due to being disbarred, and the real Phoenix who is still actively working behind the scenes but is very obviously not doing well because he can't 'save people' - the thing which so much of his identity relies upon? I think there is, but I also think the image too often becomes the reality, and AA4 does carry this underlying theme of how wearing these masks of a public persona can affect your 'true self'.

As always, I genuinely love to see other people's takes on this, either in the tags, in reblogs, or via asks. This one is very headcanon-y, and I know there some entirely different perspectives out there, some of which I really like. (Also this one got to be heavy. Look after yourselves guys.)

[vostokovasmelina]

— 𝐀𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝟑𝐂. (𝐬.𝐰.)

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐢  |  𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢 | 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

characters: fem!reader; sam wilson; archibald the tabby cat; sarah wilson

word count: 3.1k+

warning: mentions and descriptions of alcohol, death, grief, trauma, therapy, depression – i call this post-snap realism

series summary: after the blip, sam wilson gets home to an unpleasant surprise - his key doesn’t fit the lock anymore and his apartment is now inhabited by a stranger and a grumpy feline. however, the unusual encounter is only the beginning of their post-blip lives and the reader soon learns that what life takes away, it can give back in the most particular ways.

a/n: the ending is a dark unedited mess, so proceed with caution

Taking a cautious sip of your hot beverage, you watched this absolute gatecrasher of a man trying to make up his mind about whatever he was so confused about – Sam kept looking all around your apartment as if searching for something he had left there, his slightly lost and disoriented expression sending a sudden wave of guilt rushing over you. Now that you thought about it, it really must have sucked absolute cheese for him to come home hoping he could finally have that huge cup of strong black coffee he had been anticipating ever since having defeated that enormous purple bastard from Outer Space, only to find that his coffee machine was long gone and now this random lady with a philodendron problem and a judgmental cat were inhabiting the place with absolutely no room left for him whatsoever. It did sound tragic when you put it that way.

However, it really wasn’t your fault that you had needed to find a brand new residence approximately five years before. He really should have checked in with someone to make sure he still had somewhere to go home to. You were quite clearly the real victim here. And Lord only knew how poor Archie was going to process all the excitement of the day.

For a few seconds, you contemplated whether or not to put your thoughts into words, and eventually decided against it for the time being. The man had just helped save the world a few days before, after all, and out of what? Good conscience? Personally not for you, but you could appreciate it in others. And it would have been a real shame to die right when your fan-favourite succulents and killer new posting schedule had been attracting more Instagram followers than ever before. Thanks to the savior complex flaming inside of the gentleman standing before you though, the regular civilian had luckily escaped such terrible hardships. And special thanks to approximately a thousand and one other superheroes. Oh, and to an African country filled with similarly public-spirited people.

For a few awkwardly long seconds neither of you said a word. Sam kept looking around and you watched him look around, slowly lowering your mug onto the table and tilting your head slightly to the left. Weird how Sarah had never mentioned the brother believed to be dead for the last five years was this handsome. It is unfair, really. Some people are just naturally gorgeous no matter the shitty kitchen lighting, that tiny confused frown that had been sitting on their face for the last half hour, or those shiny black bugs for eyes tearing up ever so slightly to snitch on a long repressed yawn.

“Now that the drama is over and the Avengers as such are non-existent – have you considered a career in modeling yet?”

Sam snapped his head towards you with such force and speed that for a moment you were afraid you’d have to spend the rest of the afternoon sewing it back on his neck. You grabbed your mug still pretty much filled to the brim with tea and raised it back up to your mouth to hide your lingering half-smile behind a faded portrait of baby Archie on the ivory porcelain.

“Just saying, I would buy anything for this face on the package alone,” you continued with the confidence of a woman who hasn’t got a single drop of shame left in her body. But it was fine ‘cos you didn’t actually mean it, right? It was all just a joke, an attempt at lightening the mood and snapping him out of his puzzled melancholy. And that tiny flutter of your heart upon hearing Sam’s perfect little chuckle was but a momentary malfunction of the organ. The incident was purely physiological. No contribution from any emotional factors. It was simply an innocent coincidence that these two, completely unrelated things had co-occured.

So when your gazes met, you didn’t tear yours away in embarrassment – you stood your ground, completely unaffected and unbothered, ignoring the increasingly hot sensation in your cheeks when you saw Sam raise a cheeky eyebrow at you. Before even more damage could have been done, however, you decided to cut the party short.

“Oh, no. Don’t get your hopes up, Birdman. I simply couldn’t keep watching you in your deeply disturbed state.”

Very, very smooth. Cleared of all suspicion. Good job.

“Wow. Okay. That was cruel,” Sam scoffed and gave emphasis to his words by bringing up his right palm dramatically to his chest, right above his now most definitely broken heart. The overall effect got ruined by an annoyingly goofy grin in the end and before you even realised, you had already reached out for your massive mug again to drown your own erupting smile in the hot liquid.

In the silence that followed, however, you saw Sam’s smile fall ever so slightly, as if exhaustion or worry were holding onto the corners of his lips, physically tugging them down, and you shifted slightly uncomfortably in your seat. It was time you had stopped messing around with the poor guy.

“Look, I know this is weird but I’m sure we can find a solution. Just call Sarah so she can stop worrying now,” you suggested, finishing your tea and pushing the now empty mug to the middle of the table before leaning back in your seat.

“Ugh, yeah,” Sam started slowly, squatting down to get his mobile and the charger out of his massive sports bag. “Can I plug this in somewhere?”

You blinked at him a couple of times while he waited patiently for your answer. You could only imagine the number of missed calls and unread texts waiting for Sam on his phone, but you decided you didn’t know him enough to give him a lecture on behalf of his sister. So you just gave him a tired nod and gestured lazily towards your battered kitchen counter, Sam following your direction with his gaze.

“Above the microwave. Oh, and the socket farthest to the left–”

“–doesn’t work. I remember.” Sam flashed another exhausted but friendly smirk at you above his shoulder, and you allowed yourself to return the gesture to his back once he wasn’t watching.

“Right, sorry. Forgot I was the intruder here,” you joked, delighted to earn another one of those irritatingly lively chuckles of this man’s.

You seriously needed to get your shit together.

“Okay, while your phone is doing its thing, let’s call Sarah from mine, I guess” you continued, jumping up from your chair the moment Sam returned to the table and you headed towards your worn little couch where you scratched Archie gently behind his right ear. “Where have you put my phone, you dirty old man?” You cooed, smiling softly while sliding your hands under the cheap cushions and booping your irritated cat’s tiny nose when your fingers finally touched the cold metal you had been looking for.

Once seated again, you caught Sam staring at Archie, his eyes slightly narrowed in what appeared to be deep concentration. You furrowed your eyebrows and tilted your head, waiting for your uninvited guest to notice you.

“I don’t think your cat likes me too much,” he finally said, slowly tearing his gaze away from the pet feline’s and looking into your slightly more welcoming human eyes instead.

You chuckled dryly, turning around to see Archie in all his glory on the couch. He simply gave you an unbothered look before completely losing interest in the two of you, and he hopped of the couch, slowly making his way towards your bedroom where you knew he would bundle up under your bed on the cosy carpet. He had apparently decided it was time for his beauty sleep.

“Yeah, he’s like that with everyone. Nothing personal,” you assured Sam, who offered a tired half-smile in return. You cleared your throat gently, eyes fixed on your phone’s screen and fingers already searching for Sarah’s number. Once you had found it, you handed it to Sam whose only job left was to press the call button. You raised your eyebrows at him expectantly and he let out a sigh while reaching out for your mobile.

* * *

It wasn’t like he didn’t want to talk to Sarah. Quite the opposite, actually. But he was embarrassed. Sam knew full well how furious his sister was going to be. And honestly, rightfully so. He couldn’t argue with that. After all, she did say there had been something she wanted to talk to him about. And Sam did hang up on her without a passable excuse. And he did let his phone die on his way back home to Louisiana.

Yeah, he most probably wasn't going to be nominated for this year's Brother of the Year award.

Their last call had happened two days before. Two days is a long time without any news from a brother who had just returned after having been believed to be dead for the past five years. And if you had been to ask him, Sam wouldn’t have been able to tell you what had gotten into him either but ever since the Blip, something had not been exactly right. He couldn’t quite put his finger on what was going on, so he hadn’t brought it up to anyone, but his brain felt slow and foggy as if it hadn't had time to catch up yet.

Sometimes, Sam worried that the molecules in his brain had been mixed up and hadn't been put back into their original places in the process of the whole turning-into-dust-and-back-into-human-form-again thing.

It was a silly thought, yes, but with everything going on in the world, would it really be that hard to believe?

"Hey hon! What's up?" Sam's thought process was cut off by the endearing voice of his sister, and though he was aware all this affection was not directed towards him – given that he had called Sarah on your phone – his heart did swell upon hearing her again.

And then he said hi and it all went south from there.

Sarah was obviously pissed.

She asked Sam if he had any idea how many texts and missed calls she had left him, and no, he had no clue but if he had to guess, the number would have been way high up in the double digits.

Then she started going off on Sam, using different kinds of actually very creative euphemisms – which was a problem because Sam got so distracted by his sister's choice of words that her short, well-thought out rant had very little effect on him, but at least he had enough self-respect left to get his sister off speaker at this point.

"Look, Sarah, I know I messed up but I'm fine! I swear," he started, cutting his sister short while subconsciously picking at the skin around the nail on his index finger with his thumb. "What if I stop by Andy's and tell him to give me their best apple pie?" Sam added, hoping this promise would serve as an ice-breaker. Sarah did love her desserts. A lot. And Andy always gave a discount to the Wilson family, too.

When he heard his sister's tired sigh, Sam's heart gave a hopeful flutter, but he was rudely dragged back onto the ground on his way to cloud nine the very next second.

"I'm doing the shopping at the moment. Just got here and it's gonna take long," Sarah replied, annoyance poking through all her words. Then, the tension that had been dominating the pair's call suddenly seemed to evaporate as Sam sensed a weak shadow of a smile in her following sentence. "But that apple pie does sound good."

Sam couldn't help the grin that creeped its way onto his face and he didn't even care about Sarah's semi-serious threat, saying how they were nowhere near finished yet. He muttered out a quick sorry again, promised Sarah to give her regards to you and finished the call with a charming 'I love you' to which his sister replied with a snarky 'I bet' before hanging up with a promise that she would call again when she got home.

Sam let out a relieved chuckle before handing you back your phone and taking the final sip of his slightly lukewarm coffee, watching your bright red-nailed fingers tap away on the device, and he swallowed harder and probably louder than he had meant to. You just happened to put your phone down the very next second, so he tried to cover up the gulp by clearing his throat and shifting his gaze from your nails to your eyes.

Beautiful eyes.

Well shit.

"So, I guess you're staying," you started hesitantly, raising your eyebrows at Sam in a slightly impatient manner, which snapped him out of his blissful thoughts and thrust him back into reality.

Was he staying? He certainly had nowhere to go now that he was practically homeless and his sister was unable to welcome him in her own home for the next two hours, at least. But then again, you were a complete stranger whose afternoon he had just disrupted, and it didn't matter how weird it felt seeing you be so at home in his apartment because it wasn't his anymore. It was yours and you had all the right to kick Sam out and he had absolutely zero right to argue.

But, thankfully, he didn't have to.

"Which is fine, by the way. I did promise you an explanation, after all." Sam couldn't quite ignore the hint of dread behind your words and he was ready to object, to leave you alone and spend the rest of his afternoon doing God-knows-what, but then you offered him another cup of coffee followed by a tiny but honest smile, and Sam just couldn't bring himself to say no.

* * *

Sam Wilson was ridiculously easy to open up to.

It made you want to commit a crime.

His gaze was so intensely warm that after a while, you were looking at everything in your apartment but him just to avoid accidentally trauma dumping on him, especially when you got to the part about group therapy.

Because you had met Sarah at a group therapy session approximately four and a half years before.

It had been clear from the very first minute that neither of you had actually wanted to be there and that both of you had been forced into this situation. Sarah had been dragged to group by an overly enthusiastic co-worker of hers whose crush on the counselor had been probably more intense than the trauma she had suffered – she had lost a dog and her neighbor to the right whom she had always talked shit about behind his back. She was a nice enough woman, but considering that people had lost actual family in the Snap, her presence had always been mostly aggravating, to say the least.

In your case, it had been your grandmother who had bullied you into going to one of the sessions because 'she had the same rotten mentality when Miss Taylor told her to go but then she found it life-changing'. At this point, you had become so indifferent to everything in the world that you hadn't needed much convincing to go. You had told yourself it would be one session anyway after which you would have told Grandma Ethel that 'therapy was simply not for you' and could have been back to your usual Thursday evening routine consisting of a cheap bottle of red wine and depressing reruns of trashy British reality shows from the late 2000s.

The actual sessions had never worked for you. They might have if you had actually spoken up at any of them but you had never become quite ready to talk about your loss in front of a dozen other people, most of whom you had already known. But then you had met Sarah and something about her had made you feel secure, secure enough to talk about them for the first time, so you had started hanging out at a café not too far from the community center and it had become the best thing in your life.

"And the rest is history," you finished, getting up from your chair to put both yours and Sam's mug in the sink and watered your nearby plants while at it.

"I'm really glad Sarah had someone by her side," Sam commented and you could hear a hint of guilt in his words but you decided to ignore it. You simply nodded and muttered out a weak 'yeah', saying you were just as happy to have found a friend like Sarah.

Then Sam said something that made all the muscles in your body tense up and you froze completely for the next couple of seconds.

"And have you seen your family yet? Now that they've come back?"

It was an innocent question. He doesn't know the whole story. So calm down.

You slowly put down the glass you had used earlier to water your plants and tried with every particle in your body to put on the best toothpaste commercial-worthy smile you could force out of yourself before turning back towards Sam and answering his absolutely understandable question.

"Yeah!" No. "They're doing well, actually!" They're fucking dead.

Sam's genuinely happy smile was way too much to handle and if it hadn't been for a call from Sarah, you would have broken down in tears right in front of him the very next moment.

So instead of all that, you decided to turn right back around, pour yourself a huge glass of cold tapwater and down it in one breath while Sam finished his brief conversation with his sister. The stinging pain in your chest that followed was enough to distract your thoughts until he was finally at the door, saying goodbye and thanking your for the coffee and saying sorry for intruding and taking absolutely way too fucking long to finally leave.

"Hey, um... I could give you my number? If you ever need anything or..."

He can't be serious.

"Sure! You can, ugh, put it in my phone," you replied, your hands shaking dangerously as you reached into your back pocket for your mobile and handed it to Sam, who knew better than to comment on it.

Once finished, he returned your phone with one of those irritatingly joyful smiles of his and with a final 'see you around' Sam Wilson was off and you proudly patted yourself on the back for successfully holding it together until you finally reached your couch.

* * *

mini-series taglist – let me know if you want to be added

@softieyn

@mahvericks

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mcu taglist – join here

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[entitty]

y'all have no idea how happy it makes me to see people finding out about their undiagnosed adhd and being able to get treatment for it thanks to platforms like tumblr and tiktok but like. i feel like im in the minority having been diagnosed for most of my life and we dont talk enough about how bad the existing support systems are.

We can all agree that ADHD is not taken seriously enough by the rest of the world. But this extends to policy, not just personal opinions. An ADHD diagnosis will allow you to get a 504 plan in K-12, which is a fancy way of saying Accomodations Lite™. Whereas other disorders and disabilities are commonly under the purview of special ed programs (IEPs), ADHD is considered "not severe enough," and therefore does not receive the same amount of legal weight.

What this meant for me was that even with a diagnosis and accommodations for extra time within my school, the ACT and SAT were both happy to deny any request for extra time because they were independent companies and don't legally have to care about a 504 plan. I never finished any math portion on either exam after taking them ~5 times.

None of this takes into consideration the wide array of ADHD symptoms that can present themselves with varying severity. None of this takes into account whether they're medicated. In fact, if you're doing "too well," they might take away your accommodations and force you to get re-diagnosed (im mad). Point is, even if you're diagnosed, the system will never bend over backwards for you (but im sure people with experience in IEPs can tell you thats an unrealistic expectation regardless).

this isn't supposed to be a depressing post. a dx will open up a lot of stuff, especially medication, that can drastically improve your quality of life and help you function on a day to day basis. but there's no cure, and no amount of accommodation can truly counteract or "balance out" the ADHD. and that's really shitty. but that's why it's so important that we try to love neurodivergent traits and talk about their benefits instead of shaming them!!! nd people are the most interesting exciting pleasurable people on this planet!!!!

in conclusion: the system sucks at fixing us, and always will suck, but thats ok bc we aren't broken 💖