#possibly bipolar

[ghost-by-ana]

how i sleep when i can’t communicate my feelings or needs in a healthy way so i just don’t communicate them at all to avoid accidentally being manipulative (i can only do this for so long guys)

[inksplashgirl]

Manic

My brain skitters up

the wall and across the

ceiling looking

for stability in

i

n

s

a

n

i

t

y

Laughing at the pretty

rainbow window shards

and the perfect red they’re

s

l

i

c

i

n

g

into my little

white

hands

[moomeecore]

controversial opinion betty has way more autistic traits / coding than simon but ppl immediately jump on assuming characters who are neurodivergent coded/ have those vibes must have adhd if theyre energetic and autism if they're calm

[moldychefboyardeecan]

Stop Saving Me, Just Love Me

Stop saving me, just love me

“Stop saving me, just love me.���

TW/CW: manic episodes, violence out of pure rage, manic depression, bipolar disorder, alcohol consumption, nicotine addiction/cigarettes, child abuse, p in v, fingering

A/N: a bit of lore drop for you guys; I am not bipolar, but my mother is. She’s still not in her right mind, and I haven’t lived nor really communicated with her in years(I’ve spoken to her sometimes, but not as often to say we communicate). In a way, this is kind of for my mom, since when I did live with her, she really loved Sanji. Or at least, used to tell me that when I watched the show (‘el rubio’ as she called him, aka the blonde guy) in her house. 

For anyone dealing with mental health issues and disorders, I want you to know that you are loved, cherished, and wanted in this world. 

Thank you @hannahbarberra162 for beta-ing and helping clean this up <3

Ch.1/6

wc: 1.6k

bipolar!reader x Sanji

tags: meet-cute, smut, angst with comfort

please read with caution.

The slump was enough to put you out of commission for weeks.

You’ve gotten depressed, ditching calls from your publisher, leaving your manuscript abandoned, each second you don’t send it a chance you won’t make it as a writer. Maybe you’d have better luck getting a cheap drink. Your forehead hit the sticky bar countertop with a thud. Second time this week. The bartender didn’t even blink anymore. Usually, you didn’t put yourself that much together, just well enough you wouldn’t get pimped out over some cheap booze. Yet there was always someone, an enigma, hitting on you.

“Hey there princess.” The man was a rando, a stranger. He reeked of Johnie Walker, as if he bathed in the whiskey.

“I..um.. hi?” You hesitated, trying to ignore the man, he was drunk.His head would end lying down, just like yours was at the moment. Maybe just saying hi would get him off. You had no idea what he might do in that state.

Just entertain him..he’ll get out of your hair soon. 

It’s not the first time this has happened. In fact, you hadn’t been so diplomatic the first time. Some guy slurred something about your smile, leaned in too close, his hand touching where they shouldn’t, and—crack—your fist met his jaw before you even thought about it. The bar pressed charges. The guy pressed charges. And when your family drove six hours to the city to plead your case, you had to explain—through gritted teeth—that no, you weren’t some ‘bar brawler’. You were just a struggling writer, stuck in a dive bar at 21 because your career was going nowhere, and some drunk idiot had picked the wrong damn night to test you.

This time, you’d try words first. “I’m not interested.”

The man, who you'd nicknamed Walker due to the strong scent of liquor that emanated from him, was still there, talking about his day, and his wife. You knew where this was going. You rolled your eyes at the predictability, stirring your drink as a silent whisper: fuck off, creep..  

"Y’know," he slurred, shifting even closer, "I got a place nearby. Real quiet."

You raised your head up from the counter. Before you could even respond, another voice sliced through the air, smooth and deliberate.

"The lady’s with me."

Your head turned just enough to catch a glimpse. Blond hair covering just one eye, a sharp suit, a cigarette perched between his fingers. His expression was calm, unreadable, like he did this all the time. He wasn’t looking at you—his attention was locked onto Walker, posture lazy but poised.

Walker blinked, his drunken mind processing the new presence. Then he scoffed. "Oh yeah? Since when?"

“Since she got tired of your shit.” He took a drag, stepping closer toward your direction, his mouth smiling, but his eyes pleading that you’d get the hint to play along. He’ll lead the scene.

“You being spoken for, princess..?” you looked at Walker, before your eyes glanced at the blonde, telling him you got the hint.

“No, I’m not. I was just waiting on my boyfriend.”

Walker staggered off, mumbling curses under his breath.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, feeling your shoulders suddenly slump down.  Finally, you turned to your so-called rescuer. He was already watching you, a smirk playing at his lips as he flicked his cigarette ash into an empty tray on the countertop.

“Thanks for that, by the way.” You chuckled out.

“No problem. Buy you a drink?”

“Sure.” You patted the empty seat Walker was leaning over, inviting this blonde man next to you. “What’s your name, stranger?

“Sanji. Vinsmoke Sanji. Yours?”

You took a moment to take him in, really take in the man in front of you. “Y/N. What's eye candy like you doing in such a sour place?” Your mouth slipped out, your face flushing with embarrassment. “Oh my god- I didn't”

He cut you off with his laughter, waving his hand, airing out your Freudian slip. “It’s fine, really. It happens, we say stuff we don’t mean.”

“You think so? I studied psychology for a while. Don’t we usually mean those slips?” You paused, scared to chase him away. This guy just saved you from a drunk, and you talk to him about word vomit. You laughed, startled by your own boldness. Maybe it was the tension of the scene before him. Maybe it was just him. “But seriously, you are well-dressed, probably have money, and don't look like you’re 2 seconds away from another depressive episode. What are you doing in a place like this?” The bar you frequented was the cheapest on the block, flooded with hookers, traffickers, druggies, and alcoholics alike. You were typically the “only one who can get up without falling when leaving”, according to the bartender. It was weird seeing a well-dressed man like him, unless he had ulterior motives.

“I needed something quick and good. Same as you.” He answered.

“Oh wow, mind-reader. How fascinating. Let me play too. You’re...a martini guy.”

“No, actually. Bourbon or wine.”

You laughed, putting your face into one of your hands, your palm hiding your snickering and smiling . “Damn. I never get it wrong. You’re the first.” You move your hand away, placing it on your cheek, elbow perched on the countertop, showing your grin in full. "So, Sanji, was it? Tell me, you always come in like some cigarette-scented knight in a suit? Not that I'm complaining or anything.”

"Only when there’s a damsel in distress and a shitty whiskey cologne in the air. Or maybe it’s just that I’m drawn to pretty girls drinking watered down, sad excuses for Mojitos." He scooted closer, enough that his cologne reached your nose. It smelled nice, not too strong, natural. Like fresh cut violets.

"Playing smooth operator, Casanova?"

"Only if it’s working," he said with a smirk. "Is it?"

You pretended to consider, swirling your drink. "Hmm. You’re an upgrade compared to what I’ve seen tonight.”

He smirked. “I take it as a compliment. Besides, you did call me..what was it? ‘Eye candy?’  Can’t say much, Miss 'we mean our slips.'”.

Oh, he was smooth. Talking to him was like a breath of fresh air compared to the people you’ve seen around here, clearing your palate from the white rum clouding your depression.You chuckled, enjoying the moment, completely cut off by taking a sip of your drink, only to realize it’s empty. “How about that drink, huh?”

He didn’t just giggle, he laughed. His laugh felt so natural, so easy. “Alright, alright. But you’re getting something different, mademoiselle.”

“What’s wrong with Mojitos?” You asked, the mood so light it made you feel like flying.

“Absolutely nothing.��That Mojito is a disgrace to mint and cocktails around the world. Looks like sugar and regret. Un crime envers la mixologie.” He muttered at the end, looking almost disgusted at the mere thought of that drink.

No need for translation, as it was obvious. Some sins are universal.

While he calls the bartender to this side of the counter, you drum your fingers to the music at the bar, intrigued by him. Hands.. his hands. They didn’t fit his shtick. They had callouses, not soft, smoothed nor polished like the rest of him. Though, it looked like it was old, and disappearing.

You kept drumming, drumming, drumming. tap-tap-tap, 3. Why were his hands like that?  tap-tap-tap-tap-tap,5. Primes. Fibonacci. Why 5? That’s wrong. Should’ve been 4. Or 8. Fuck—

“What else do you want to drink.?” He asked, his face calming. You paused.

“Anything.” It didn’t matter, did it? Either way, you wanted this night to end well, or maybe even forget it entirely

“Well then, let me treat you to some real alcohol, none of this sugar water merde. Get me two of your best bourbons here. Neat.”

The bartender walked away and started getting the glasses from the bottom, onto the counter, and the bottles were relieved from their duty on the shelves, and poured into the bottles. You saw it from the corner of your eye, the cigarette-scented-knight-in-shining-armor just..looking. You meet his gaze and he smiles.

“Looking at something?”

“You.”

You roll your eyes, and go back to tapping your fingers. tap-tap-tap-tap-tap. 5. Odd. tap-tap-tap-tap-tap. 5 again. The world feels strong, bright. You take a deep breath. Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-t- clink. The glasses are placed in front of you, the amber liquid shining against the glass. Sanji gets one, his hands brushed against yours. Rough. His hands were calloused. You were right. You get yours and look back at Sanji. “To pretty girls and bad mojitos.” He tilts his glass towards you.

You’d drink to that.

Your glasses clink. “Cheers.”

[swamp-adder]

canon quotes in support of the "Holmes is bipolar" theory

Nothing could exceed his energy when the working fit was upon him; but now and again a reaction would seize him, and for days on end he would lie upon the sofa in the sitting-room, hardly uttering a word or moving a muscle from morning to night. -- STUD

He was bright, eager, and in excellent spirits, a mood which in his case alternated with fits of the blackest depression. -- SIGN

Holmes could talk exceedingly well when he chose, and that night he did choose. He appeared to be in a state of nervous exaltation. I have never known him so brilliant. He spoke on a quick succession of subjects,--on miracle-plays, on medieval pottery, on Stradivarius violins, on the Buddhism of Ceylon, and on the war-ships of the future,--handling each as though he had made a special study of it. His bright humor marked the reaction from his black depression of the preceding days. -- SIGN

[...] as I have mentioned somewhere in these incoherent memoirs, the outbursts of passionate energy when he performed the remarkable feats with which his name is associated were followed by reactions of lethargy during which he would lie about with his violin and his books, hardly moving save from the sofa to the table. -- MUSG

Holmes had spent several days in bed, as was his habit from time to time [...] -- 3GAR

Sherlock Holmes was a man, however, who, when he had an unsolved problem upon his mind, would go for days, and even for a week, without rest, turning it over, rearranging his facts, looking at it from every point of view until he had either fathomed it or convinced himself that his data were insufficient. It was soon evident to me that he was now preparing for an all-night sitting. -- TWIS

He paced restlessly about our sitting-room in a fever of suppressed energy, biting his nails, tapping the furniture, and chafing against inaction. -- BRUC

It was not a long journey from Winchester to Thor Place, but it was long to me in my impatience, while for Holmes it was evident that it seemed endless; for, in his nervous restlessness he could not sit still, but paced the carriage or drummed with his long, sensitive fingers upon the cushions beside him. -- THOR

"My dear Watson, you know how bored I have been since we locked up Colonel Carruthers. My mind is like a racing engine, tearing itself to pieces because it is not connected up with the work for which it was built." -- WIST

[aintgonnatakethis]

i often find myself thinking 'you know, i haven't had any symptoms in ages. maybe my bipolar was misdiagnosed.' and then i either 1. come out of a depressive episode and am like ffs i didn't recognise the signs again or 2. wake up one morning having entered a hypersexual episode and be like. OH

[ashpkat]

in my idealized version of the books (the Good timeline), jericho and constantine’s relationship is not the one aaron and calls relationship parallels — it’s constantine and joseph. in this essay i will *gets taken out by cassandra clare’s snipers*

[squeakadeeks]

once again in awe at your amazing cosplays 😭 how long do you take to make one? i swear everytime i see you you have two more whole new cosplays

thank you!! and it varies, typically it takes 3 weeks to just over a month per costume, but work has been completely running me ragged so i doubt i can keep up that pace anymore 😵‍💫

my record/shortest time on a costume is 12 days for nekomancer:

i have a tie for the longest, but who thats for probably isnt a surprise haha. It's a tie between Lif, Karna, Hypnos, and Aether. i think it's interesting that lif, hypnos and karna all happened back to back!! Each of these took around 2 months.

[orthosispsychosis]

'man its crazy how people think laios is the most evil man alive just for really intensely engaging his special interest' in the latter half of the 2010s there was ongoing Discourse about newt geiszler pacificrim's interest in kaiju being a disgusting and insensitive thing that, since kaiju are ~basically~ weapons of mass destruction, makes him A Creepy War Fandom Guy who loves human suffering (this was before pac rim2, which is bad, but is not relevant here for other reasons beside it being the Worst. also, there were no statements on whether the guys in the military hierarchy of nuclear-powered punch robots were also Creepy War Fan Guys.) never mind that he is actively yk working against the kaiju, and his pursuit of knowledge of them does in fact majorly directly contribute to saving the world. obviously newt and laios are different characters in different contexts, but presumably .1% or less of the people involved in newt discourse personally knew or were someone victimized by a kaiju so yeah it's actually really easy for me to imagine a bunch of in-world dm people thinking laios is gross and horrifying and dangerous for being interested in monsters. if he wasn't the fandom's Precious Autistic Mascot people here would be saying that about him already. give it a few years and they'll forget the autism and start talking about how shipping labru is bad because laios as a disturbingly socially inept White Man who won't shut up about monsters would be traumatizing for kabru to exist near

[rustedskyprisms]

She seems like she hangs out on the Reddit armchair psychology subs, like that’s kind of a wild statement to make even by my standards.

[villaincousland]

What came first, the chicken or the egg but with lack of sleep and hypomania ✌️

[sillystanleystuff]

How to download the software in your brain that stabilizes emotions and makes you feel some sort of attraction for other people

[evilsystemm]

I AM SOOOOOO PRETTYYYYY AHHHHHHH I WANNA TELL EVERYONE AND SHOW EVERYONE BUT ITLL MAKE THEM SO ENVIOUS AND SAD

:(((((((((((( I WANNA TALK ABOUT HOW PRETTY I AMMMMMMMMM

[p4rty4nim4l]

a weird little creature to show how I’m feeling…

[ibelieveinahappilyeverafter]

After some Medical and Psychological Run Around your boy got a diagonses for ADHD (both types apparently) and Adderall.

This is about to be the best or worst day of my life let's find out gang

[inseparabiles]

you ever come down from a high where everything is great and people love you and then it's like

right. this is what life normally feels like, and it's lonely as shit? Because. Yeah.