#manic depression do you mean: Bad and Worse

[mountainhaunt]

forever envious of the bipolar types that have euphoric mania. what do you mean you don't purely feel irate and paranoid and restless the whole time? what do you mean it feels good and you long for it when it's away?? where is ur rage? where is ur depersonalization?? what is this natural high of which u speak

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

Longtime reader and fan (thank you for existing and sharing your writing!) first time asker, prompted by watching the movie The Martian: what if the team went on a mission out in space, during the war or after, and accidentally left someone behind on a planet? I can't decide who it would be worse for it to happen to, and whether being able to morph would really be helpful. Maybe it's a funny no-big when you have alien space travel, I suppose

Ooh, I think it all depends on who got left behind.

Ax: We know from canon that he can get by while stranded on an alien planet without either dying or losing his mind. That said, Ax also desperately needs company and doesn't do well alone. When he's stuck in the Dome ship, he gets to the point of hallucinations and memory problems from the isolation (MM4). So Ax would probably figure out how to get a potato farm or other food supply going — he's very good at cobbling together solutions from limited technology — and he would be able to fix things that went wrong for a time.

But Ax better find that Rover and get it talking to an Earth satellite as fast as he can, if he's the one stranded. And he hopefully wouldn't make a mistake that results in it frying. If he does, then Ax would have the greatest risk of just losing the plot. That could mean falling into a depression so bad he stops maintaining his food supply, becoming so anxious he can't do EVAs anymore, developing psychosis and losing track of reality, or any number of other ways that his brain could start eating itself. But if he does end up with any kind of major overwhelming stressor, then he's probably screwed. It's not like there's a way to do therapy through a 2-message-an-hour Rover running on Morse code, and I doubt(?) NASA would've sent antidepressants in their limited weight supply.

Jake: Would go the same way as Ax, but a lot faster. He wouldn't consider himself worth risking others' lives to rescue, he wouldn't have the necessary mental flexibility to engineer himself a long-term survival solution, and he wouldn't be able to remain sane with no one to talk to. I don't think he'd actually die by suicide. I think he'd just curl up in bed and eat 3x a day until he ran out of MREs, and then gradually slip away.

Marco: Easily the best equipped to survive over a year alone on Mars. Name puns aside, he's the most Mark Watney-ish of the Animorphs. He can laugh as he's crying, he can entertain himself, he can think through problems quickly, and he can charm the media of planet Earth enough to convince NASA to mount a rescue expedition.

Marco would start talking to himself the moment he wakes up alone, and he wouldn't stop talking until he was finally back on the spaceship. He'd try so hard to be cool and tough in the logs, insisting on not really being scared, not really being hungry or in pain, until you could almost believe him. If something breaks, Marco will take it apart and fix it. If he risks dying in the process of fixing the broken water purifier or oxygen system, then he's going to run straight at it with manic determination to make his death at least entertaining for the folks at home.

Of course, Marco might also be the most upsetting one for the other Animorphs to realize they've left behind. Rather than trying to make the others feel better about having made an honest mistake in the process of trying to save their own lives, he'd be making jokes about how he was five minutes late for the school bus and yet they still left him on the field trip, or he knew that Jake found him annoying but never realized he was that annoying. Which would only make the whole team feel way worse about the fact that they left him for dead and nearly let him die for real.

Cassie: Would do all the science she could, with the opportunity she'd been given. She would carefully log the rock samples she found, take extensive notes on her processes, and use up every single sample container and scrap of disc space she had left on her observations. Then she'd go out somewhere beautiful, eat one last MRE and watch one last Earthrise, and take off her helmet.

Tobias: Probably second-best equipped psychologically to spend all that time in survival mode. Like Ax, Tobias is prone to mental illness and so risks not being able to keep going through all the relentless misery and stress, but Tobias is also a solitary creature at heart. And Tobias isn't afraid to do what it takes to survive, as long as he's not hurting anyone else in the process. So he wouldn't make contacting Earth a priority (except to make it clear that he needs rescue) and he would be okay with a tiny trickle of communication with his fellow humans that eventually gets cut off.

However, Tobias is also a lot more... rigid in planning, I guess? He doesn't have Ax's or Marco's "try anything" attitude. He makes rules for himself, and then he follows them, even to the point of risking death. He tends to obsess over taking the right course of action no matter what, and spends a ton of time considering what right would be in any given situation. Like, he's got more functional fixedness than Marco or Cassie, which could be bad if his only option for survival is to make a sock and a paperback book cover into a makeshift CO2 filter. So I think Tobias would handle the isolation best of anyone on the team, but risks not handling the 40,000 random engineering problems that come from using a tent meant for 6 people over 2 weeks as a home for 18 months.

Tobias would also be extremely upsetting for the other Animorphs to have left behind. His role on the team is classic break the cutie, where anything bad happening to him is utterly devastating for all his friends in a way it wouldn't be to have Rachel or Jake suffer a similar fate. If there's anyone that the team would risk cannibalism and death to return to Mars for, it's him.

Rachel: It's hard to say if impulsivity is more of a bonus or a drawback here. Rachel has never taken anything lying down in her life, ever, and she'd be offended by the idea of some stupid dusty planet getting the better of her. She would fight with every iota of her being to survive, fighting airlock failure and potato rot and oxygen leaks and water system clogs.

But. Impulsivity. If that means she tries anything, tries everything, until a solution works, then excellent. If that means she gets fed up with the process of survival, less good. If that means she says screw it and eats when she's hungry, doubleplusungood.

[bugs1nmybrain]

Bipolar!Shigaraki Tomura Headcanons

I'm writing it. Because I CAN

Before I start, I am writing these headcanons as someone who has been diagnosed with Bipolar Type 1 for almost three years now. I frankly could not care less if people don't think he has Bipolar Disorder, I'm writing this for my comfort and that of others who either have Bipolar disorder or just resonate with the idea that Tomura does.

and I'm also very aware of Bipolar Disorder being stigmatized as something that affects "bad" people. I'm not trying to suggest this, but that Tomura is someone who is neglected of treatment.

Warning: Bipolar disorder as title suggests (Tomura's symptoms relate to type 1 more), talks of depression, mania, psychosis, suicidality, etc, angst?

Tomura has never been given a formal diagnosis and likely has no clue that he has bipolar disorder himself. He doesn't know much about it, either, other then the stereotype that people with general mood swings are "so bipolar."

The doctor knows, AFO does too, but for them, they see it as more ammo for their arsenal to make sure Tomura's life is nothing but agony. He's never been treated with medications or therapy. Nothing.

Because he isn't medicated, his episodes are pretty strong. His manic episodes sort of blend in with his everyday behavior to a lot of people.

It's during this time that he finds himself planning out grand operations against the heroes. Some of his ideas seem unrealistic and not well thought out. They're more just ideas thrown around, and he jumps to gather people and means to carry out his goal before actually having a calculated plan.

He's up all night doing this. But if he's not, he's likely gaming. He huddles up in his room with multiple cans of energy drinks (as if he didn't already have way too much energy).

(semi-canon) will text his comrades at godforsaken hours either asking, demanding, or just rambling about stuff. If he gets an answer, the recipient often finds themself confused because Tomura just talks and talks and talks, and when he's in the heat of some plan or project he doesn't really stop to compose his sentences or even take a damn breath.

He impulsively buys things, like copious amounts of in-game purchases. Or DoorDash. If he's feeling reeeaaal bold he'll go for a whole-ass gaming console if he can, even if his current one is perfectly fine. Or assembling as many thugs as he can and feeling generous enough to overpay them when they definitely don't need the amount of money he's giving them.

You can see how when AFO was arrested, his lifestyle shifted in this regard.

Tomura is already an irritable guy, and so his mania can make it worse. He gets very overstimulated with all of his sensations that little things, like accidentally stubbing his toe, can make him mad as fuck for a good thirty minutes.

He also gets very paranoid about others. When he talks to people, he's already convinced that they are tricking him somehow and he'll read every cue he can to confirm it, even if the proof isn't even there.

Even when he's out in public and by himself, he thinks everyone is mocking, judging, and looking at him. That also comes with being the most wanted villain around, but that's beside the point.

When something finally goes his way, he is HAPPY. Sometimes the League will catch Tomura smiling his face off for no apparent reason (odd for him), and will ask what's up, only for Tomura to CACKLE back with, "ehehAHAH NOTHING!! THAT's just IT!"

They look at each other like, but just let him go about his day. They'll later hear him giggling to himself in his room, and sometimes talking to himself. He'll deny and just tell them he was on chat (his devices are not open and he is standing in the middle of his room).

Because he's not medicated, his mania can trickle into psychotic symptoms. Especially if he's going through more stress than typical. He hears voices that tell him mean things. Sometimes they're the voices of his dead family.

And because he doesn't sleep much, he sees detailed shadows and things moving that aren't. It disturbs him, but he accepts it and tries to just push on. But sometimes if he hears voices more than he'd like, he gets sad and has to grip his head and whisper "shut up shut up shut up" to negate them.

He's delusional, too. AFO's grooming and constant monitoring of his whole life have definitely emphasized his distrust of everything around him. Sometimes he'll think that the people he's gaming with online are secret hero spies trying to get him to reveal himself. He also has a fear that someone is watching him in every location, and he'll think that even the silliest things are cameras or microphones, or that those around him are also spies. Later on, it becomes paranoia that his master is everywhere.

Then comes the doom of depression

For Tomura, he's technically always depressed. But when he goes into a depressive episode, he's pretty lifeless.

He's complacent about his goals. Sometimes he'll get a tiny idea that makes his brain go !, but then he thinks of all the planning behind it and immediately slouches down on any nearby furniture

He'll lay in bed for a long period of time doing nothing. Sometimes he'll try to play a game on his phone but he gets bored quick.

Tends to eat more during this time because it's the only joy he can get. And he gets bored. He is SO BORED

Anhedonia is a bitch

His brain dwells and rambles, yet his thoughts don't make sense to him? He's constantly thinking about how fucked up his life is, how better other villains are, and how much he hates All Might and heroes altogether. He tells himself that if it wasn't for all of that he wouldn't feel this way (relating to the depressive episode).

It overwhelms him and he tries to sleep it off, but he's somehow so depressed that he's UNCOMFORTABLE. His itching gets bad.

He is very suicidal during this time and hurts himself to try and subside it. If you asked him his reason for living, he'd tell you "to see this world crumble." But he's too busy crumbling in his bed.

Psychotic symptoms can occur during his depression, too. Especially if he hasn't slept.

His lack of medication usually causes him to swap back to mania somewhat soon (2 months or so). He definitely has rapid cycles.

Because his condition isn't managed, his brain is sort of in an in-an-out stance when it comes to his literal sanity. He has moments where he can definitely be level-headed (he gets rrly confident when he notices it) but when his anger and stress fuel him more than usual, he spirals and quite literally sees red. Sometimes he can't even tell if he's dreaming or not. Often mistakes the date and day of the week.

:(

I might write a fic of the reader comforting bipolar tomura. I don't think I've ever seen a fic like that for any character.

[lawlia-art]

Hello! 🤗 I'm a self-taught French artist who mainly draws Undertale content but I'm also a fan of Sonic, One Piece and The Last of Us! Creator of:

🖤 Undertale: Black Soul Timeline 🖤 UTBS Gallery

☣ TheLastTale AU ☣ TheLastTale Gallery ⚠️ TW

🌐 UnderWifi AU 🌐 UnderWifi Gallery

My main oc:

Name: UTBS!Sans aka Black

* Age: 35

* Height: 5'1'' (1,55m)

* Birthday: 5 June (2023)

Here it's a fictional character so everything is NOT real! Black has a bipolar disorder and a dissociative identity disorder (did), it's not possible to have both. Usually for the did, the alters have different names, genders, ages, here it's only the personality that changed but some alters may prefer to be called by their real name (depressive states).

⚠ Trigger warning: sensitive content ⚠

RESET 160:

During the 160th reset even if Sans will have many depressive episodes and manic phases, he still has the same personality as before in euthymic state. It's at the end of this reset that Sans will have a good or bad ending. In the good ending, he will no longer have bipolar disorder and the only difference with Classic Sans is in his appearance, his statistics and his health. But in the bad ending, his personality will become very unstable as he gains levels and he will also suffer from dissociative identity disorder. At level 20 in the euthymic state Sans/Black will have more of a neutral expression and will almost no longer feel any emotions. It's only in a depressive phase that he becomes "himself" again.

UTBS!Sans/Black Euthymic/Manic Phase/Alter (lv20):

This guy has a psychopatic personality (dark triad). He's very dangerous.. If you want to survive, show him that you can be useful to him and above all never upset him!! He's sadistic and will not hesitate to make you live your worse nightmare.This alter was born when Black reached level 20. He's the representation of all the hatred accumulated by Chara which made her soul black. Unlike the Manic and Manic/Depressive phases, this one does not consume much magic, his appearance is not limited and the others alters can't regain control. The only way is to use a tranquilizer injection. Fortunately it's frequency of appearance is very low BUT his body gets used to the product over time, which means that the doses must be increased. So, if no one can save him in time, it will no longer be possible to help him!! A happy ending is possible for him but Black needs to return to his timeline and he agrees to do a reset. His brother, his father and Frisk are looking for him. Papyrus/White is currently in the Omega Timeline. Gaster came into contact with the timeline parallel to his own to meet his double. Frisk asked Sans (Good ending) for help to save him.

I will complete this list of information as I go along!

* Favorite food: ketchup and hot dog

* Favorite drink: black coffee

Additional information UTBS!Sans (Resets 1 to 159):

* Left-handed

* Omnisexual

* Has stick bugs

Additional information UTBS!Sans (Good ending):

* Left-handed

* Omnisexual (has a relationship)

* Has stick bugs

Additional information UTBS!Sans (Bad ending):

* Ambidextrous

* Omnisexual (can't have a romantic relationship)

Undertale: Black Soul Timeline - summary:

The Black Soul Timeline is an alternate timeline of the original set in the Undertale universe. There are two of them: one is the good ending and the other is the bad ending. 

In both timelines, after Chara's death, her soul of determination was filled with hatred as she saw innocent children being killed. She thought the Monsters were different but she was wrong... Since then she wants to avenge them. 

One day, a human named Frisk arrived, she possessed a powerful soul of dt similar to her own and was able to see her. Chara observed her during all her journeys. Frisk used her reset power to try save Asriel. At the 53rd reset, Chara offered to lend her her body so she could help save him. Frisk accepted but Chara lied to her, she didn't want to save Asriel but took advantage of her soul of dt to make the Monsters suffer. She couldn't do anything to stop her...��During this same reset, the fun value was 66. At each start of reset before Frisk arrived, Sans worked on his father's latest creation, a machine which had the function of creating portals to different timelines or universes. For the first time he had managed to open a portal that led to the Void, that's how Gaster was able to warn him that Chara had taken possession of Frisk. Unfortunately for him he couldn't get able out the Void because it wasn't the "right" portal. So that Gaster could stay in contact with Sans, he gave him a fragment of his soul. It's thanks to this fragment that he will remember at each new reset what happened previously. Sans tried to find a solution to protect his brother and bring Frisk back with the help of Gaster but he didn't succeed. He gave up many times... it's his father who push him to persevere. 

It is only at reset 159 that he will be able to stop Chara, but at what cost?...

CREDITS:

Undertale: Black Soul Timeline (c) LawliaArt

Undertale (c) Toby Fox

[officerwhitmore]

Tender is the Night for a Broken Heart

Vincent liked to pretend that he covered fellow officers’ night shifts out of some occasional streak of benevolence, but people saw through it like polished glass. On his bad weeks—or days or months—anyone who halfway knew him could smell the reek of melancholy that was bound to him like a poltergeist, thick and black and malevolent. The jokes and laughter outright stopped; the radiant, electric grins wilted into forced toothpick-thin smiles that didn’t reach his eyes, not even close. He didn’t touch the food in the breakroom, didn’t attend the optional meetings, blew off good mornings and goodnights, and sometimes didn’t eat at all. People knew to avoid him; knew to let him take every double-shift he wanted and to keep the interactions sparse, lest their question or comment be met with bland, empty eyes and heavy silence.

Coworkers met his bad weeks with space and maybe a bit of unease; Stella, his wife, his ostensible life partner, met them with pure disgust. For all the thinly veiled distaste she showed towards his hobby of choice—video games, especially when he played them without June for his own personal enjoyment—she despised the opposite even more. On the days he felt like cement—glued to the mattress with the curtains drawn, body buried in blankets as his brain tortured him in the dark—she would glare and demean him; enter the bedroom just to turn on the lights so the suffering would be even less bearable.

There had been a time, far in the past, where she would lay with him; curl up against his chest in the dark and listen to his heartbeat until his misery felt less lonely. She’d coax him out of bed with food he wouldn’t have bothered to eat on his own; drag him along for nature walks and force him to watch shitty comedies until he finally managed to laugh, his arms wrapped tightly around her under a mountain of couch blankets. She hadn’t anticipated the diagnosis, but she had supported him through it; even promised him once as he sobbed into his hands that she’d never, ever leave him for it. ‘I love you, Vincent,’ she’d told him, holding his cheek as he tried to hide his face. ‘That means all of you. All the time.’

The fact that he’d believed her remained a source of shame. Only a fool could’ve been stupid enough to think that someone would tolerate his illness indefinitely. God knew if the tables were turned, he wouldn’t be sure he could do it. The weeping, the despair, the fatigue of depression; the euphoria, impulsivity, and sleeplessness of mania. So volatile, so inconvenient, so exhausting. Stella had come to despise his brokenness, and somehow she’d come to blame him for it, like he didn’t have a cabinet full of pills and a shelf full of books he’d highlighted and dogeared and willed to cure him.

Sometimes, when he wasn’t manic or depressive, he believed he could tolerate the illness. Other times, bad times, he wished for death. That was one of the downsides to taking double-shifts. Late at night, parked in the pitch-darkness with only the radio to distract him from his misery, the sidearm on his hip began to resemble an escape. The first time, it frightened him. By the second time, he was already used to it.

7:00 PM, and Vince’s hands trembled as he turned the key in the front door, the quiet click of the lock barely registering in his ears, his brain so numb it felt like static. His first shift, the day shift, had passed as slowly and blurrily as a dense fog, every step like lifting a pound of cement, every road bleak and endless. He only had an hour until his next one. One hour to force down a plate of leftovers, brew himself a thermos of coffee, and ask June about her day, forcing his face into an expression that wouldn’t make her worry about him. If he was honest with himself, that was exactly why he took double-shifts on bad days. June didn’t deserve to see him at his lowest, and Stella would only make it worse.

When Vince pushed the door open and stepped inside, he was so blinded by exhaustion that the scene took him thirty entire seconds to register. The open door spilled a river of light across the living room, illuminating Stella sprawled across the couch, an empty bottle of wine tipped over on the coffee table in front of her. It stopped him cold. His breath caught in his throat, the exhaustion suddenly replaced by a sharp, burning anger that cut through the fog like a knife.

She was passed out. Again. Drunk. Again. Vince clenched his jaw, his fists tightening at his sides. He’d just spent nine hours on the job, and this—this—was what he came home to. Not peace. Not rest. But this.

He crossed the room in three quick strides, his boots thudding heavily against the floor, and stopped in front of her. “Stella.” His voice was sharp, louder than he intended, but he didn’t care. “Wake up.”

She stirred, groaning as her eyes fluttered open, unfocused and bleary. It took her a moment to register his presence, and when she did, her expression quickly twisted into a scowl.

“What the hell, Vince?” she slurred. “What’s your problem?”

“My problem?” Vince could feel the heat rising in his chest, his anger bubbling dangerously close to the surface. He snatched the empty wine bottle from the coffee table and held it up in front of her. “This is my problem, Stella. You’re drunk, again, on a weeknight, while our daughter is in the next room! Do you even care anymore?”

Stella’s face flushed red with indignation, and she sat up unsteadily, nearly toppling over as she tried to steady herself. “Don’t you dare talk to me like that, Vince. Don’t you fucking dare.”

“Like what?” Vince snapped, his voice rising. “Like a husband who’s fed up with watching his wife destroy herself? With watching you waste away while I’m out there every day trying to hold this family together?”

“Hold this family together?” Stella’s laugh was bitter, hollow. She swayed as she got to her feet, glaring at him with glassy eyes. “You think you’re holding this family together? You’re barely here, Vince! You’re either at work or moping around or playing video games like some pathetic—”

“Pathetic?” The word stung more than he expected, cutting deep into the fragile armor he’d tried to build around himself. He took a step closer, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous growl. “You want to talk about pathetic, Stella? Look at yourself. You’re a mess. You’ve been drinking yourself into a stupor every week, and for what? What’s your excuse this time?”

“My excuse?” Stella spat, stumbling back as she tried to steady herself against the couch. “Maybe my excuse is that I’m married to a fucking maniac. Maybe my excuse is that I’m sick of being alone all the time, raising our daughter by myself while you’re off doing whatever the hell you want!”

Vincent scoffed, so taken aback that he hadn’t the mental capacity to register what she’d called him. “I’m doing my job, Stella. I’m trying to make sure we have a roof over our heads, food on the table—”

“Oh, spare me the martyr act!” she shouted, cutting him off. Her voice was shrill, venomous, and the sound of it grated on his already frayed nerves. “You think you’re so noble, don’t you? So self-sacrificing. But the truth is, you’re a coward, Vince. You’re a fucking coward who hides behind that badge because you can’t face your own failures. You can’t face the fact that you’re a shitty husband, an even shittier father, and a college dropout who couldn't even finish school!”

The words hit him like a punch to the gut, knocking the wind out of him. For a moment, he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. All he could feel was the overwhelming weight of her words, the truth they carried, the guilt that had been festering inside him for years.

“Fuck you,” Vince whispered, his voice shaking with a mix of rage and festering hurt. His words hung in the air like poison, filling the room with an almost suffocating tension.

Stella’s eyes widened in shock, but instead of retreating, she leaned into the rage. Her lips curled into a cruel, mocking smile. “Oh, poor Vince,” she sneered, voice dripping with venom. “Poor, pathetic Vince, always the victim. You want to blame me for everything, don’t you? For all your fucking problems. But guess what? It’s not my fault you’re broken. You’ve been broken long before I ever touched you.”

Something inside Vince snapped. Her words pierced through the numbness, igniting a blazing fire in his chest.

“Broken, huh? Maybe I should’ve taken lessons from you on how to keep it all together. Maybe if I start drinking at noon, everything will magically get better. Or maybe, just maybe, I’ll finally understand why you care more about booze than your own fucking family.”

Stella’s face twisted with fury. “Fuck you, Vince! You’re never here! You’re always off pretending to be the hero while I’m stuck holding everything together!”

“Pretending to be the hero?” Vince barked out a harsh laugh. “You mean working a job that actually keeps the lights on while you drown yourself in Merlot? Yeah, that’s me, the asshole pretending to be the hero.”

“You are an asshole!” she screamed, her voice cracking. “You stand there and judge me like you’re better than me, but you’re just as fucked up as I am! You pretend you’re some kind of saint, but you’re nothing more than a crazy, manic loser who can’t even deal with his own mental illness!”

“You want to talk about crazy, Stella?” Vince’s voice grew louder. “How about hiding behind a bottle every goddamn night instead of facing your problems? How about running away from reality because you can’t stand to look at what your life’s become? Who’s really the crazy one here?”

Stella’s eyes flared with hurt and anger, her hands trembling with rage. “You think I wanted this life? You think I wanted to be married to some depressed fucking cop who’d rather take cheap shots at me than admit he’s failing as a father? Newsflash, Vince, you’re no hero! You’re just a fucking manchild who can’t stay serious long enough to admit how much he hates his own life!”

“Ahh, right. You want me to be serious? You want me to be real fucking serious, Stella?” Vincent shouted, his voice raw. “I do hate it! I hate coming home every day to this mess! To you! To this—” he gestured around them, his eyes wild with frustration. “To this pathetic excuse for a marriage!”

Stella’s face contorted with rage, and she stepped closer, jabbing her finger at his chest. “You’re a fucking bastard, Vince. A mediocre, immature bastard who’d rather tear me down than admit his own failures!”

“Yeah?” Vince huffed a laugh, dark and bitter. “Well, maybe you’re just a cruel bitch who can’t handle the truth.”

In one swift motion, Stella slapped him across the face with a force that startled them both. The sound echoed in the room, and for a moment, everything went still. It was the sixth time she’d done it in the years they’d spent together, but it was never any less shocking. As the heat of her palm lingered on Vince’s cheek, it occurred to him with slow, pulsing horror that the very same hand had spoon-fed and cradled their infant daughter. Fingers rasping against a too-long beard he’d neglected, he stared at her, breathing heavily, his mouth agape.

Stella’s chest heaved as she glared at him, eyes filled with a mix of fury and something else—something broken. “Maybe we shouldn’t have gotten married at all,” she whispered, her voice shaking.

The words hit Vince like a punch to the gut, his heart pounding in his chest, sick and slow like the beat of a war drum. “You know what, honey?” he growled through his teeth, the pet name all mockery. “I don’t think you’ve ever been more right in your entire goddamn life.”

The words felt powerful, sharp, electric. Then Stella’s face crumpled, the fury in her eyes giving way to something wounded and vulnerable, and he instantly regretted it. But it was too late. The damage was done.

“You bastard,” Stella whispered, voice dark and dangerous as she stumbled backward and grabbed the empty wine bottle from the coffee table. “You fucking bastard!”

Before Vince could react, she swung the bottle at him. Her coordination was so off, so sluggish, that she barely managed to toss it in his direction. It hit his chest with a weak thud, and he caught it easily, staring down at the bottle in disbelief.

Watching the wine label shimmer in the flagging light, he couldn’t believe it had come to this. That she would actually try to hurt him.

“Stella…” His voice wavered, the anger suddenly draining out of him, replaced by a deep, hollow sadness. “What are we doing?”

But Stella wasn’t listening. She took a stumbling step forward, and for one horrifying moment, Vince saw her trajectory—saw the sharp edge of the table corner looming just behind her.

“Stella, stop!” He lunged forward instinctively, catching her just as her knees buckled. She collapsed into his arms, her body limp and heavy and smelling of the booze she’d binged on. The close call left his heart pounding, and for a second, all he could think about was how easily she could have been seriously hurt—or worse. He held her there for a moment, cradling her against his chest, his mind reeling.

Despite everything, she was still the mother of his child. And he didn’t want her dead. He didn’t want June to grow up without a mother, no matter how broken their family had become.

As if sensing his shift in emotions, Stella’s body slackened further, and she started to cry. Soft, broken sobs that shook her shoulders as she clung to him, her fingers gripping the fabric of his uniform.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “I’m so sorry, Vince.”

Vince closed his eyes, the weight of her words pressing down on him, deep and thick and heavy as stone. He didn’t know what to say—didn’t know if there was anything left to say at all.

Slowly, he lifted her into his arms and carried her down the hallway to their bedroom, trying and failing to ignore the memory of the first time he’d done this. Their ‘honeymoon’ in their first apartment. She’d been naked and he’d been shirtless and the couch had been too small to maneuver the way they’d wanted, so he’d hefted her into his arms just like this and thrown her onto the mattress like a sack of potatoes just to make her laugh.

Neither of them were laughing. Vincent felt like he might never laugh again.

He set her on the bed gently, laying her atop the comforter, unable to bring himself to tuck her in. He couldn’t even bring himself to look at her. The room felt suffocating, the walls closing in on him.

All he wanted was to escape, to run from the mess his life had become.

But before he could, he heard something—a quiet, muffled sound from down the hall.

His blood ran cold.

No.

He recognized that sound. He would recognize it anywhere.

June.

His heart turned cold, and he stood frozen for a moment, dreading what he would find. When he finally managed to move, he forced himself to walk down the hallway, his footsteps slow and measured. He didn’t want to frighten her any more than she already was.

When he pushed open her bedroom door, he saw her—sitting up against the headboard, clutching a blue Squishmallow to her chest, her face buried in its plush fabric as she quietly sobbed.

Vince’s heart shattered, his gut twisting hard. He crossed the room carefully, sinking down onto the bed beside her. June looked up at him, her tear-streaked face filled with a mix of fear and sadness that tore at his soul.

“Hey, baby girl,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her into his lap. She was warm, soft, her hair smelling of blueberry shampoo. “It’s okay, honey. I’m here.”

June buried her face in his chest, her small body trembling as she cried into his uniform. Vince held her tightly, rocking her gently back and forth, his own emotions swirling in a chaotic storm that he could barely contain.

“What did you hear?” he asked softly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

June sniffled, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. “I heard everything, Daddy,” she whispered, her voice small. Fragile. “You and Mommy… you were fighting.”

Vince closed his eyes, the guilt crashing over him in waves. He hated that she had to hear it—hated that she had to witness the worst parts of their lives. She was too young for this. Too innocent. And yet, she was the only thing keeping him tethered to this world.

“I’m so sorry, Junie,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I’m so, so sorry.”

She didn’t say anything; just clung to him tighter, her small hands gripping his shirt as if she were afraid he might disappear.

For a long time, they sat there like that, Vince holding her close, rocking her gently as her sobs gradually quieted. He didn’t know how long they stayed like that, but eventually, her breathing slowed, and she fell asleep in his arms, her face still pressed against his chest. Vince kissed her forehead, his heart aching with a deep, indescribable pain. She was his world. She was the only thing that kept him going, the only reason he hadn’t ended it all.

But even as he held her, he couldn’t shake the overwhelming sense of failure. He was leaving her again. Leaving her alone with a drunk.

When he finally managed to tuck her into bed, pulling the blankets up to her chin, he stood there for a moment, staring down at her. His beautiful, innocent girl, caught in the middle of a war she didn’t deserve to fight.

Tears burned in his eyes, and he quickly wiped them away. He couldn’t fall apart. Not now. He turned away, closing the door softly behind him, and made his way to the hallway bathroom. His hands were shaking as he flicked on the light, the harsh fluorescent glow illuminating his exhausted face in the mirror. He looked at himself for a long moment, staring at the man in the reflection—the man who had failed at everything. The man who couldn’t keep his wife sober. The man who couldn’t protect his daughter from the chaos that surrounded them. The terrible father. The terrible husband. The manic depressive.

He didn’t deserve the badge on his chest.

Finally, finally, like fragile glass, he broke.

The sobs came suddenly, wracking his body with a force that left him gasping for breath. Tears and snot ran freely down his face as he leaned over the sink, his reflection blurring as he wept. Every heaving sob felt like a punch to the gut, his diaphragm clenching painfully with each one. He couldn’t stop. He couldn’t hold it back anymore.

He hated the man in the mirror. Hated him with every fiber of his being. He shivered, trembled, white-knuckling the counter because if he didn’t keep his hands completely still, he might reel back his fist and shatter it.

It felt like ages before the worst of the tears subsided. He was exhausted, his body shaking from the intensity of the breakdown. He checked his watch through blurry eyes and realized with a jolt that he was nearly late for his night shift.

He rinsed his face quickly, washing away the worst of the evidence, and reached into the medicine cabinet for his pills—three bottles lined up neatly on the shelf: a mood stabilizer, an anti-anxiety pill, and a pill for depression. He took them all with a quick swallow of water, leaving the fourth pill—the one that helped him sleep—untouched. He had eight more hours ahead of him, and he was already wrung dry.

9:00 PM found Vincent parked on the side of a desolate road, alone in the darkness. The blue and red lights of his squad car were off, the engine idle, and the silence in the car felt as heavy as lead. The day had crawled by in a blur of monotony, and the night shift promised to be no different. But now, here, in the quiet, there was nothing to distract him from the crushing weight of his thoughts.

His service pistol rested heavily in his lap, cold metal pressing against his thigh. His fingers traced the grip absentmindedly, the weight of it both familiar and foreign at the same time. The thought had crept into his mind slowly at first, like a whisper in the back of his head that grew louder with every passing hour, every shift, every fight at home. It was a thought he had tried to push away before, but tonight, in the silence, it screamed at him.

He stared out the windshield, his eyes unfocused, the road ahead swallowed by darkness. The distant hum of traffic on the highway sounded miles away, and the occasional gust of wind against the car did nothing to break the stillness inside his mind.

‘Maybe it would be easier,’ he thought, the idea forming in the silence. Easier for everyone. For Stella, who could finally be rid of him and his brokenness. For June, who wouldn’t have to grow up watching her father deteriorate. For him—god, for him, who was so tired of fighting a battle that never seemed to end.

Tears began to well up in his eyes, blurring his vision. He didn’t wipe them away. They spilled over, running down his cheeks as his chest tightened with the weight of everything he carried. The anger, the guilt, the helplessness—all of it pressing down on him until he felt like he couldn’t breathe.

His hand trembled as he reached for his personal phone, fingers brushing against the familiar plastic case. When he turned on the screen, June’s smiling face greeted him. The photo was a candid one, taken just a few weeks ago when they had baked cookies together. She had frosting smeared all over her mouth, her braces gleaming in the sunlight, and she was laughing—laughing like she didn’t have a care in the world.

Vince stared at the photo, a weak smile tugging at the corner of his lips. For just an instant, the darkness receded, replaced by the warmth of that memory. But then the tears came harder, spilling onto the screen, distorting June’s face. He tried to hold onto the smile, but it slipped away. Slowly, he lifted the gun and stared at it, the cold metal gleaming in the dim light of the car’s dashboard. His heart pounded in his chest as he contemplated the finality of it, the escape it promised.

But then he thought of June again—her laughter, her smile, the way she looked at him with those bright, trusting eyes.

With a shaky breath, he lowered the gun and slid it back into its holster. His head fell back against the headrest, eyes closed as he tried to steady his breathing. The tears kept coming, but he let them. He needed to feel something—anything—other than the numbness that had taken root inside him.

It didn’t last long, that solace, that silence. A car zoomed past him on the road, its headlights cutting through the night and setting off Vince’s speedometer with a sharp beep. He blinked, momentarily startled. He didn’t particularly want to follow the car—didn’t want to do anything but sit there in his misery—but the distraction was almost welcome. Anything, anything to stifle the misery—even if for a moment. A bitter laugh escaped his lips—dry and joyless, a compulsive habit—and he turned on his police lights and pulled onto the road, the red and blue flashing against the asphalt as he followed the speeding car.

@tex-mex-tony

[tayloralisonswift]

just typed out a huge rant in the drafts which usually makes me feel better but this time i feel worse so maybe i’ll try and say it better here.

idk man it’s fucking frustrating to see people gleefully speculate over taylor’s manic phase while knowing they do not give a shit about ordinary people with bipolar. bipolar is soooooo isolating because no one cares, you’re too cRaZy, they just want to lock you up, everything you do is too much, everything you feel is too big (even if you are actually being super healthy about something! people assume you’re gonna lose your shit) every part of you is bad and wrong and too much. so it’s just a lot of fun to see my dash dissecting a stranger’s mental health, knowing that these are the same people who mass blocked me when i talked about my hospitalization. online armchair psychiatrists are not interested in listening to people with real experiences, i get that, but come on.

i know i’m talking in circles but the thing is no one asks me about these things, so i have to talk about them like this. i don’t see other people with bipolar or similar disorders being asked either. no one ever asks, “what is mania like, from your perspective?” they just debate amongst themselves what google ai said the dsm5 said. i don’t just mean about the taylor’s mania conversation - i’ve only ever had three people (outside of healthcare professionals) straight up ask me what my bipolar is like for me. just two friends and my mom. people don’t want to know and they don’t want to ask, so i don’t talk about it. how’s that for lonely?

this post has gone on long enough and i’m sure it, like my bipolar, is Too Much. maybe i will delete it upon posting, maybe i’ll delete it tomorrow. i am simply overwhelmed with how goddamn alone i am in this depressive episode and in my larger life as someone with bipolar disorder. :)

[underwater-i-will-go]

hey guys! going to vent a little, so there's trigger warnings of all sorts under the cut! (ed, mental health, etc)

i don't do this for attention or anything btw and i'm not pity fishing. just venting! can't really do it with anyone or anywhere else.

🪄

okay so as some may know, these past 12 months have been ... rough. there hasn't been much i've had left to hold onto after my mother's passing last october, even when her death after her long term sickness that had me be her 24/7 care taker for the last 6 months was for the best unfortunately.

and about six months ago it got extra bad. not sure why, can't figure it out either. then i had a bit of a better time (or maybe five good days tops over the summer which is MASSIVE for me!) but recently i've hit complete and total rock bottom. and by that i mean that despite everything, from trauma that to abuse to more i've been going through since i was 14, i've never been doing worse. darkest and deepest depths of hell sort of stuff.

i'm diagnosed bipolar and manic depressive with a psychosis that no one really seems able to understand so therefore it's hard to treat, plus i have a restrictive eating disorder for which i've been in and out of recovery for a decade now. yeah. and all sorts of trauma and as it stands, no living family left plus my only real life friend moved away recently. my internet best friend only really cares about me anymore when no one else is around. so i'm basically all alone and by alone, i mean ALONE. so there's that.

but i always kept on pushing, not sure why. suicidal thoughts have been more frequent again lately but still. i always keep pushing, i always like to say that's because of all the anger and rage within me because other than depression, there's not much more left of me. everything that i once was before it got really bad about a year ago has just vanished and nowadays i'm nothing but an empty vessel really.

i've also lost the element of me that always kept me going, which was writing, i can't do it anymore. my brain is finally too tired for that. so it's not been easy. i'm also broke lol. i'm just sitting here. so i wanted to ask you guys for advice!

what are your coping mechanisms? like what is it that you like to do to pass time? because whatever used to help me no longer cuts it.

[halfetirosie]

☁ I lied. I fucking DESPISE this Rural Town Fuckery™!!! ☁

(Scales 05 - 07 React-os!)

TIME TO RANT!!!

🚨🚨🚨I'M ALSO GONNA DO SOME KUYA-HATING IN HERE, BUT KUYA HATED ME FIRST SO IT'S FINE 🚨🚨🚨

1) What the actual fuckity FUCK???

What "flesh" are they talking about? Are they cutting their hands and bleeding out into the basin or something???

Also---I think I was wrong in thinking that the villagers' attitude towards yokai is different from the Wood Territory tribe. These guys may act like they like the "merfolk," but they're actually terrified of them to a manic degree.

This scene is disturbing as hell...

2) Nooooo!!! Poor Yakumo!!!

I feel so bad for him, for real! He has issues with controlling his yokai powers like ALL the time; poor babykins can't catch a break!!!

...

...His scales do be looking really pretty, tho...

3) Ohhh, yeah, this makes a lot of sense. I feel dumb for not predicting this earlier.

I mean, the whole reason Eiden and Yakumo came to the island was to inquire about the recipe that included merfolk meat as an ingredient.

It makes no sense for the villagers to have a whole-ass ceremony to "honor" the merfolk; unless their true purpose was to appease the merfolks' anger.

I'm guessing that these villagers' ancestors hunted the merfolk in the surrounding waters---like a fucked up version of whaling. When they thought they hunted merfolk to extinction, they then feared that that they'd return and take revenge.

That's why, instead of being happy to see [what they think is] a merfolk, the villagers get scared and angry...

4) We interrupt this depressing event to bring you a Yu-Gi-Oh! reference! :D

---Yes, I know that "Umi" is the word for "ocean" in Japanese. But I'm a pathetic dork that will always associate that word with the Yu-Gi-Oh! card of the same name. (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

5) ......Bruh.

Okay, two things!

FIRST:

......Eiden, sweetie? I love you, but how have you not figured out the reason for the villagers' freak-out by now??? I feel like the talk of "revenge" is enough for the average person to put context clues together..🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️

Am I wrong? Am I just being a jerk??

SECOND:

I'm sorry, but I am getting REAL sick of Kuya's bullshit. These last two events he's been an insufferable DICK.

This bitch always has something mean to say about everyone and everything, without even being provoked first. And he has the audacity to accuse others of hypocrisy when he's the worst offender?!?! Why can't he just shut up and leave people alone?!?!?!

Lately, his character seems to have gotten worse, and every scene he's in makes me feel miserable. It's just too much.

I really hope the devs will dial back his toxicity soon.

6) That's kinda weird...?

I'm confused about the rules of this fish-scale relic.

Why was Yakumo the only one that had strong side effect from touching the relic? It's not like he was the only one touching the relic; all of those human villagers + Eiden touched it an prayed over it, too.

Does the relic only react to all yokai essence?

Why was the relic designed to react to anything other than merfolk essence in the first place??? That seems highly impractical.

7) Ugh.

Look, I get it. I'm not saying he's wrong to point out that Yakumo's a special case---that most yokai would have too much trouble to live alongside humans without issue.

But he really didn't have to word it so rudely, or insult Yakumo by calling him delusional. 🤦‍♀️

---His nasty attitude aside---

Am I crazy, or do I detect a hint of jealousy here? 🤔

I know the intended interpretation of that second sentence, "But not everyone is as lucky as you are," is supposed to be in reference to Umi.

But idk, man; something about it (maybe his expression?) makes me think he could also mean himself? After all, as we see in the Forest Carnival event, over his long life Kuya has gotten acutely aware of the issues of human/yokai relations, and he is super pessimistic about it.

What if, part of the reason he's so pessimistic and disrespectful to humans is not just because he's experienced human cruelty, but because he wanted to get along with humans at one point and failed?

It's just a theory. 🤷‍♀️ If nothing else, that context would make for a good fanfic.

8) OH, FUCK!!!!!!

(⊙ᗣ⊙)

I knew the history was bad, but somehow this is even worse than I thought. Instead of the merfolk living around the island, they lived on the island, and those humans straight up committed genocide and stole their land!!!

It's safe to say, I'm certain of what the social commentary this event is aiming for now...

Step 1: Invade a territory

Step 2: Murder the people native to the land

Step 3: Retroactively mystify the culture of the people that were murdered

Step 4: Make cowardly attempts to "appease" those from the group you murdered, without returning what you stole in the first place

*depresso-s in American*

9) Oh my GOD, they couldn't be more hypocritical if they TRIED!!! 🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️

(New drinking game that would kill me: take a shot every time this event makes me facepalm or shake my head)

Talk about poetic INjustice---I wasn't even rooting for them, but I still end up indescribably disappointed.

Why do people like this never learn???

I don't care if this island is cut off from the outside world; that isn't an excuse for this bullshit.

This village has had plenty of time to think about what they've done, and how to react if a merfolk showed up in the future.

And the BEST they came up with was to do the SAME THING (attempting to murder the merfolk) THAT MADE THEM SO WORRIED AND SCARED IN THE FIRST PLACE?!?!?!?!

THEY ARE SO STUPID AND EVIL!!!!! I FEEL LIKE I'M GONNA PASS OUT FROM FRUSTRATION AND ANGER!!!

💢 (╯🔥 ᗣ 🔥)╯︵ ┻━┻

🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬

🔥 End of report 🔥

[disabledstraydogs]

For the ask game, Lucy and Kyouka with ♿️, 🩼, ☔️, 🏳️‍🌈 and 🐶

I hope that's not too much! (and sorry about the questions being kinda out of order lol)

Hi anon! Because of the number of points here, we are just doing Lucy, but feel free to resend if you want us to do Kyouka as well!!!!

Lucy

♿️ - What is your disability headcanon for [character]? What are the main symptoms that they show? Be as specific or as vague as you want.

Okay Lucy to me has:

Schizoaffective disorder- To me her main symptoms would have disorganized behavior and speech, hallucinations, and mania/depressive episode

She also uses/used a colostomy bag- Although atp I'm unsure if I headcanon her as having it a permanently or just as a young teenager, I think it was either an infection or cancer that causes her to need one. In this post though we're going for it being permanent.

System Lucy is a headcanon we have- however currently I'm leaning towards Anne being a reoccurring hallucination rather than an alter

I don't know what exactly this would class as but due to the orphanage I think she would have something with her hands maybe a nerve or skin issue? Because I don't know what exactly I won't specify this but it's a Thing imo.

🩼 - What is their relationship like with their disability? Are they in denial? Do they fight against it? Are they at peace with their disability?

I think with her schizoaffective disorder she's very used to it, however I think she does have times where she is reluctant to (or judt doesn't) take her meds because she wants to be 'better' and 'normal'.

With her colostomy bag I think she despises it. Having been bullied for using one (despite it being necessary for her to survive) I think she just associates it with bad things and would hide it. She's very anxious to have people find out that she uses one because she doesn't want to answer any of the intrusive questions that come with it. Sometimes she struggles to change it because of this.

🐶 - Has their past affected their disability and it's formation? How?

I think this is an interesting question. In Lucy's case I think the bullying and mistreatment 100% caused (or triggered) her schizoaffective disorder. Obviously we don't know her parents so there could be a genetic element too. But I think being called a freak and so forth impacted her majorly and had her developing delusional thoughts at a young age that weren't picked up on. Also I think the nature of her ability would aid in her disorder.

I don't think there was much she could do to change the possibility of having a colostomy, although I think the orphanage could have picked up on her medical needs sooner and gotten her help that means she may not have needed one.

☔️ - What does a 'bad day' look like for them? How do they cope with this?

I think a bad day for Lucy would involve a lot of emotions and sobbing. She wants attention and reassurance but isn't sure how to ask for this. I think she would lock herself in her ability and just. be held by Anne because she feels like no one else can love her.

I think if she was in mania rather than the depression she would act incredibly impulsively, and possibly have an aggressive streak when she's manic.

For her colostomy, it causes skin irritation, and that makes her upset because it's like a permanent reminder that it's there. Also if it leaks and Lucy is in a bad place she will break down and possibly panic depending on where she is when or if she's in a bad place in general.

🏳️‍🌈 - A random headcanon about [character] and their disability

I've said this before but I think Lucy is a horror junkie, however I also think this could make her psychosis symptoms worse. The Guild have pretty much banned her from watching horror films.

For a headcanon we haven't spoken about.... Besdies Anne, I think Louisa and Atushi are the only people who have actually seen Lucy's colostomy bag. I though Louisa is the only person Lucy has let close enough to help her with changing it.

[lucius-morningstar]

Fun Facts and Headcanons for my Oc's

So I shared a little of my newest redesigns for Eris and Lovebomb but no funfacts. I am unsure if their facts will be in this post but I am doing my main boy first for obvious reasons. So let's start with my current obsession. My boy Lucius Morningstar, Twin brother of the bubbly optimistic Charlotte Morningstar. ---- Fun Facts: 1. Lucius use to be equally as optimistic as Charlie, wanting to see the best in everyone regardless of why they ended up in hell and sadly in doing that he is taken advantage of in every meaningful way possible. 2. He has a rather huge overprotective nature when it comes to Charlie, he has his reasons aside from being a good big brother. He just doesn't want her to go through what he did, and with their parents disappearing let's say they both have some clear abandonment issues they don't want to delve into. 3. Lucius has made it his mission to make sure no one hurts his sister, he basically made it his whole purpose which wasn't entirely his fault when he was encouraged by more so his dad then anyone else to always protect his sister. 4. His relationship with both parents is honestly lacking, he cares very little for his father and his mom isn't any higher on the list. In his eyes they abandoned both of them, in turn hurting Charlie which he has a hard time forgiving even though Charlie herself already has in a sense.

5. He has had a string of really bad relationships. He has a hard time when it comes to commitment and it gets worse after he loses the first one he genuinely began to love. 6. Lucius loses a lot of trust in most sinners after not only losing so many of his "friends" to the extermination but later finding out they didn't care for him as much as he cared for them. They didn't want him for him but for his money, power and pull. Including the woman he fell for and ultimately lost due to said extermiations. 7. His only remaining "friends" are the Carmine sisters and he's unsure if they actually do care so he keeps his distance. Their friendship is slowly forming again but he still finds himself uncertain. Especially when feelings come into play for one of said sisters. He does not want a repeat of last time. 8. He has nearly thrown his father through a wall upon being told that sinners will die regardless and he should have known better. His father telling him this mere weeks after losing his first love. So yeah he may have overreacted just a touch. 9. He was planned to be leaving the pride ring all together and setting up shop in the greed ring becoming a circus ringleader under control of Mammon. Mammon does take advantage of Lucius's greed and pumps him full of "happy pills" to help keep him in line. This was my original take on Lucius, but that changed. 10. Charlie is the reason Lucius was able to snap out of his manic depression, knowing he still had her and his will to protect his sister was still there. So he made that his mission never truly leaving his demon form since that night. He has to this day still tries to look out for his siter although it's become a bit more difficult since Vaggie came along. Vaggie and him aren't exactly friends but both have similar goals when it comes to Charlie. Keep her safe but that doesn't mean they're friends. Not by a long shot, they do get closer though as time goes by. 11. He clearly has no like towards heaven or the angel community as a whole, especially the Exorcists. So you can only imagine his surprise when he realizes Vaggie was one of them. His reaction would surprise you though. 12. His current love interest is Clara Carmine although he's unsure if she feels the same and is far too afraid to take that step in fear of history repeating itself, that and he's unsure if Clara is just friends for the sake of benefit or because she genuinely wants to be. She has said that she wants them to be friends but he still isn't entirely certain. His mixed signals also tend to hurt her more then he realizes. 13. Lucius use to sing much like Charlie but he doesn't do it anymore. He doesn't like to say why but Charlie is aware and despite trying to be positive, she's never really forced him to continue. The two did sing often and they'd be lying to say they didn't miss it.

[superchat]

hi! i've seen you post about it a lot, could you explain nerdy girl overdose? something about anime girl doing drugs is appealing and i feel like you can explain it better than a wikipedia article

Uhm hi!!! needy girl overdose is a management game. you play as the faceless boyfriend of ame, who wants to be a streamer. the gameplay is basically deciding what activities ame should do. she has a new idea for a stream, she could really grow her view count with it. or how about a date night, shes really stressed and could use some time with you. how about the hospital? shes been falling into a dark place lately and might hurt herself. you have to balance these things and see where it takes you. theres so many endings possible that can be 30 minutes or like 2+hrs(?) each, lots of replayability

One big appeal is the overall loveletter to the internet that the game is. the localization is spot on and full of references and jokes and subcultures that is very hard to capture if you havent been around through them (very early one youll see is a RANDY YOUR STICKS reference). it goes into the parasocial relationship the develops in online spaces, having an identity or persona that seen by others. wanting to be seen and loved, how your persona can grow, and these interactions can turn toxic if left unmanaged

Another part of the game is that its very deep into the menhera subculture. its got a lot of emphasis on mental health and dealing with mental issues. ame gets depressed, or goes manic, or abuses her medication, or SH's. theres some. really really good letters she has on some of these things.

The game can get dark, not because it tries to, but just because these things are so intertwined and connected that you kind of have to have it, if you want to be as genuine as you can be. theres not really a central Point to the game, its mostly just. a loveletter to the internet, for all its goods and bads. from the sense of community and belonging that transcends physical bounds, to the destruction and toxity and abuse it can enable for the self and others, the game kind of embraces it all

Switch version has some censorship (drugs are macarons now lol, idk what other changes there are) but its there if you want accessibility to play it, its on steam too, if you're interested, id say pls check it out if you're up for it :3

this should go without saying but this game is not meant to enable self harm or abuse. as i understand, menhera is not so much about getting worse, but using imagery of dark themes with a cuter look as a way of helping to get out of bad habits. like using poison as an antidote, and thats what this game does for me a lot. the darker art and themes helps me vent in a way and holds me off from doing things. take care of yourself! be kind to yourself! dont be mean to your body. its doing the best it can.

[abimee]

i get where posts are coming from when they talk about the, i dont know what better way to example them besides ''weird/strange disorders'' people are often adverse to, and in ways that try to make them palatable/less scary like ''oh my friend who hears voices actually enjoys them and she finds comfort in them'' and doing things in a way to mitigate the fear of them, even people who have them themselves doing this. but i dont really enjoy that this is the only line that these thoughts go through, of how entertaining or enjoyable these things can be, when i think we do need more understanding of them by demanding the outside participant recognize that theyre not always going to get that feel-good depiction of our disorders

like the best way i can personally put it is yeah some of my disorder symptoms are enjoyable on my part, but a problem with that is when im manic and in a state that makes me feel good i can often become a danger to myself or others because im so hopped up on my own euphoria that i forget consequences and limitations exist, and so often mania is just as bad for me if not worse for me than depression because im incapable of being self aware, critical, realistic, and the mania can often feed into a dangerous mindset teetering me closer to suicide than depression. but mania getting played off as just '' i have so much energy! i got zoomies!" or ''mania is actually really cool because [x]'' when in all actuality of someone like me with insane bipolar swings starts telling you how enjoyable mania is Thats A Bad Sign

or like with the symptoms that float somewhere between my bipolar and ocd. im going to ask for some incredibly insane accomodations or say things that i dont understand may be hurtful because what may be a silly little quirk you do may feel like someone is putting their nails into my skin and dragging them down my back until they draw blood. or i may act offputting because my brain is either trying to tell me that i was destined by god to save you from your relationship, that i have no basis to believe is unhealthy purely besides my brain telling me that because you arent dating me that you are surely in a shitty relationship, or the complete opposite where im certain you are in fact only in my life to steal my friends and make a mockery of me by long conning me into getting close to you and revealing information for you to put out and get me hunted down and killed like an animal for, even thought there is no such information besides my brain telling me There Might Be and I just forgot

and to have friendships and close relationships with people similar to me is to have to not only respect back but understand that youre not going to get the feel good caretaker shit where my bipolar actually makes me a fun and interesting person to be around or my comorbid ocd actually makes me a really safety orientated person, it means youre going to have to watch me just directly not say some things to you on a discord call because i think were being recorded by secret agents and me asking you to come pick me up a 3 mile drive away randomly because i tried taking a vacation but psyched myself into believing im going to die if i dont get back home and i need to get home NOW. like i get positivity posts about the ''scary/weird'' disorders have their time and place but when all i see is people trying to make us palatable i wonder if even people like me who are defined and live day by day with their neurosis would be included because we exemplify some of many reasons why these disorders are in the neurodivergence category, one defined by the fact that we dont need medication and to be ''cured'' as much as we need the world around us to learn to accomodate us and accept us without trying to change us.

and theres people more severe than me! certainely! im only in the medium to extreme range of bipolar being youthful and not experiencing more psychosis symptoms, but even i can be offputting and upsetting to others purely by thr way my bipolar has wired me, and i wonder if IM considered ''too much'' for people how my siblings who need 24 hour round clock assistance and care to live will be treated and if the people who wanna de-fang disorders can accept those people as friends and family and closed ones. this also goes into stuff like how we can pass these disorders onto their kids, and what if your child is the violent stereotype? what if the voices arent nice? what if your child cant be left alone with a babysitter or anybody besides a select set of people without freaking out? what then

[mentalhealthhelpsblog]

A FEW things you probably understand if you are Bipolar:

🟣It’s hard to finish one thing at a time.

On the way up, you start doing the washing up, then you think of a poem and get a quarter of the way through it, then you remember you wanted to alphabetise your books, then you start watching a film, then you do more of the (now cold) washing up.

🟣Sometimes the world turns black and white.

When you’re depressed you stop enjoying things you used to, nothing seems worthwhile and all you want to do is sleep for a thousand years.

🟣It doesn’t mean you’re up and down all the time

Everyone’s different – you can have rapid cycling (where you quickly go from high to low), mixed state (when you have symptoms of depression and mania at the same time), or go gradually up and down with periods of ‘normality’ in between.

🟣Madness

Everyone experiences mania differently, whether it’s delusions such as thinking you have superpowers, suddenly getting it into your head to get on a train to Scotland instead of the train home, not sleeping because you have so much to write or paint, or suffering hallucinations.

Losing control of your mind is odd to say the least. Imagine losing control of your limbs – having them dance about or do things without your input. Then apply that to your daily thought processes.

🟣Stigma

Talking about mental health can be so scary that many people decide not to tell anyone.

The ignorance and discrimination surrounding mental illness is considerable.

Although sometimes the person who discriminates the most against you is you.

🟣You are probably a great listener

Somehow you have become the one friends turn to with their troubles.

You don’t know whether this is because you’ve had counselling and therefore have picked up how to listen sympathetically, or because you are more guarded than others about yourself so others fill silences with chatter.

🟣The buzz

The buzz of hypomania isn’t fun – it’s more like having espresso in your veins.

Admittedly you can get quite a lot done during these times though.

🟣You don’t find suicidal thoughts scary

They’re more like preteens hanging round Justin Beiber’s hotel in the rain – sometimes they change, sometimes they go, occasionally we pay them attention but mostly they just linger.

🟣you’re a shopping liability

You’ve gone over your overdraft more times than you can remember buying things you don’t even want during a manic phase.

During mania or hypomania your brain makes weird connections and all of a sudden it makes perfect sense to buy a set of golf clubs when you haven’t played a day in your life.

🟣You’re probably a perfectionist

You need to sleep but you told the office you’d bring in homemade cupcakes the next day so you’re still up at 1am rolling edible flowers in egg yolk and sugar.

🟣Alcohol is usually best avoided

Alcohol is a depressant.

Adding this in to your natural brain chemistry and mood stabilisers isn’t fun the morning after.

Normal hangovers are bad enough – yours are worse than a coke come-down and often leave you a weeping, morose mess.

🟣Relationships can be hard

I once dumped the man I loved during a manic phase and we never recovered.

Not everyone can face mental illness, but then relationships can be challenging for everyone, in all kinds of ways.

A friend who is also bipolar has been married for years, which gives me hope.

🟣You are stronger than you know

Sometimes getting through another day is a huge achievement. Don’t give up.

[khodorkovskaya]

21.03.23

i remember this time around last year my friend from maths told me that she has "reverse" seasonal depression as in she gets depressed when it's spring/summer, instead of autumn/winter how it usually goes for most people. and i was baffled! how can you get depressed when days get longer, the sun gets warmer, trees start blooming, birds start singing, etc? in winter everything is dark and cold and gloomy, it makes sense to be a little depressed. but spring..?!

but this year i really feel her... ive been dreading the arrival of spring. because spring means warm weather and warm weather means going on walks and going on walks means going on walks with B. but this year there is no B. there's just me and my loneliness and my shitty nostalgia. and every time the sun shines a little too brightly or the birds sing a little too happily, i want to burst into tears. so all i want to do is stay inside and pretend it's still winter and im still in my comfortable warm cocoon because hey it's normal to stay inside and be alone when it's winter, right? but fuck. i go outside and want to kms.

this "reverse" seasonal depression thing has turned into paranoia. whenever im out and about in town, im constantly looking around myself, staring into the face of every passing stranger, convinced that i am going to bump into B. i can't sit still, i can't walk straight, no no no... i have to constantly be looking left and right, turning my head, always checking... and when i get a glimpse of some tall guy with dark hair or, worse, someone crouched on a bike, i get a manic adrenalin rush like oh my god it's him! but it's never him, of course.

what's worse is that that one lana song has gotten quite popular on instagram and it seems like every reel i watch has it. and that song takes me back to one particular moment with B.

every time i discover a new song i like, i listen to it on repeat until i get sick of it. and in spring of 2018 that song was "say yes to heaven". it already made me all teary eyed when i first heard it. there's something about it idk, it really touched me.

so it was the beginning of spring and B and i went for our usual walk in the countryside by the bridge. and we were talking about love and he started telling me about his ex. in a very neutral manner, nothing extraordinary, just like "this is how my first relationship went". and, sure, to him it felt like a story from the past. he was like what, 16 when it happened? and he was 29 when he was telling me about it. it was a typical first love story that everyone has, really nothing special. but to my teenage self it was the most heartbreaking thing i had ever experienced. i couldn't fathom the fact that B was my first love, but his first love was someone else.

i listened to his story, of course, and i was curious about it. her name was antoinette and they met at scouts. he seduced her by playing guitar. i don't know why but i had always imagined her with bright red hair. not as in ginger, but as in dyed cartoonish red hair. and a striped shirt with black skinny jeans. maybe it was because her name sounded so damn french that she absolutely had to have a stiped shirt in my imagination. but yeah, dyed red hair and bright red freckles. that was B's first love for me. when i came home that day, i listened to "say yes to heaven" and cried, imagining B being as innocently in love with her as i was with him, mourning the fact that he would never love me this way and how i could never be his first. and now whenever i hear that song, i think about 19 year old me crying and i want to cry again.

i later learned about B's other ex, meriç. this was a whole different story and at first i thought that it would be easier for me to digest. after all, they hadn't parted on good terms and B would often use her as a bad example. they were toxic, he said. but the more i thought about meriç, the worse i felt about myself. i couldn't get over the fact that B moved to turkey for her! and for me, well... i once mentioned the fact that i was thinking about going to another city for uni and B threw a tantrum. he would never sacrifice anything for me, i thought, he would never move to a different country for me. that meriç girl must've had something i didn't.

after giving it some thought, id made up my mind about meriç and drew a clear picture of her in my mind just like i had done with antoinette. my imaginary meriç was sexy. that's why he moved to turkey for her, i explained to myself. and toxic relationships are always extremely sexual, right? the whole fighting and making up and fucking thing. there's always a thrill, always a chase... men love that shit, right? meriç was exciting, feisty, sexually liberated. and when B would whine about me not wanting to do anal or being shy while giving him blowjobs, the thought of meriç would occupy my mind. she probably said yes to anal, i thought. she probably looked into his eyes while sucking his dick and im too fucking sexually useless to do any of this shit. that's why he moved to turkey for her and wouldn't want to move to a city that's 3 hours away for me.

and so there i was, the most boring and forgettable girlfriend. antoinette had the infatuation, the romance, the rush of first love. meriç had the thrill, the lust, the toxic passion. and me? well... no matter how many times B would tell me that i was the best he'd ever had, it would never get through to me. it frustrated me that we weren't on the same page. to me our relationship was exciting and firey and felt like destiny and i would get the strongest butterflies-in-my-stomach feeling while looking at him to the point of feeling intoxicated. and at the same time i would feel devastated and suicidal even when something would go wrong. it was full of ups and downs and crazy hormonal rushes. and to him it was his third serious relationship, calm and calculated, no hard feelings. "i feel so calm when im with you," he would tell me. and it felt like defeat.

i saw a picture of meriç once. i had to stalk her on facebook, of course i had! she looked quite similar to me actually, with a wave in her hair and full cheeks. at least that's what my bestie had pointed out because, of fucking course, i showed her the picture. it was only years later that B had told me that him and meriç had no sexual chemistry and it was quite frustrating. and maybe he lied, but i wish 19 year old me would've known that. she's married now. and so is antoinette. she has a daughter i think? or two. i don't know. but they've moved on. and i will move on from B. and he'll probably tell his next girlfriend about me. or not. who knows what he would say. and what she will think. will she imagine me with red hair and freckles? who knows.

[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

[shy-the-schizophrenic]

Well, I'm finally manic. I've been stuck in a depressive episode for seven months. I couldn't write at all. I was so apathetic. The only thing I could do was complain on my blog about my boyfriend. Well good news guys. Life is looking up in alot of ways and there are some downs. The ups. My relationship is amazing. I stopped splitting on my boyfriend. He really is the best thing to ever happen to me. Even my sister finally said she wants to meet him because she's seen how much I've changed and grown up. Besides that bout of splitting on my boyfriend. Yes that still happened but the way I handled it was way different than how I would have in the past. I don't degrade him, call him names, yell at him. I'm not mean to him just because I've split on him. I'm distant as hell. I don't say things I don't mean anymore because I've lost so many people by doing that. I wrote on here. An anonymous blog. Also my work is improving. I'm taking it seriously. Going in 4-5 days a week. Working an actual shift. In just a week and a half of consistency I've made more in a week than I ever did in a month. It's awesome! In my new place I have a little fridge in my room and for the first time it has food in it. Paid for with my own money. My boyfriend has been helping me with alot of stuff cuz I was struggling financially. But now I'm good again! If I keep doing what I'm doing ill be perfectly fine when it comes to financial struggling. I made a new friend. She's the one helping me with all this. This whole move and meeting her triggered my manic episode and it's great. I feel amazing. Things feel good. It's been 2 weeks and I haven't fully unpacked until today. I started my period and took the day off. So I finally made my room my little home. It looks fucking awesome. I feel comfy here now. It feels like my space. The roommates are really awesome. They are a lesbian Trans couple. Some people would be weird about it but so far they are the best roommates I've ever had. I like it better living with women. Every man I've lived with after leaving my mom's house was a nightmare. I've moved seven times in two years. Every single place was terrible. Not the place, the roommates. So I'm glad to have good roommates now. Okay so now the bad news. My mom might have uterine cancer. I had an episode in the car on the way home after being told that news. Everything just hit me at once when I realized there might be a timer on my mom's life. Something I've kept myself awake at night thinking about. I've heard the prognosis is good but when I freaked I didn't know that. My life with my mom flashed before my eyes. In my head every memory was coming out and playing at once but I can see all of them. Every good thing, bad thing. Then I thought of the fact that our relationship is messed up and so much time has been wasted not being in her life. Then regret that I wasted that time over stupid shit, but it wasn't stupid shit. They were legit reasons to be angry with her. The things she's done wrong were wrong but I forgave her but a tiny percent of me wishes she would take accountability. Only now I can't want that because why would you want to make a dying person, your mom, feel any worse than they already do knowing they are dying. So I have to let it go. Stop expecting that long talk and just let go and be in the moment. Yet it hurts that I no longer can expect it. It's a mess I know. I don't know what to think about it.