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fuckdamn · 2 years

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slightly drunk but i’m sitting here thinking about jane margolis and like actually actively sobbing. i’m so sad she died what the fuck. her dad was a hardass and probably not someone i’d like very much irl but he also clearly loved her very very profoundly and if he didn’t like that he couldn’t always understand her lifestyle and choices and motives it wasn’t out of disgust or whatever it was because he was scared that if he couldn’t understand her then he couldn’t help her. is that fair to her?? no. and in the end he couldn’t save her because you can’t really save someone from themselves but how can that fact be any consolation when its your own child?? AND how can jane deal with being treated like a problem without internalizing that he thinks she’s a problem?? there’s no good answers there’s no right answers there’s only love that’s there despite everything and care and tenderness and the art that jane left behind and her room exactly how she left it like she could come back at any second but she CAN’T because don WATCHED them zip his lifeless daughter into a body bag and cart her off. that’s it. their last confrontation was a fight and the last time he saw her she was crying and she deserved better and she should have had more time and that’s all you can really say!! and don and jesse will have to carry on under the weight of not only crushing grief but crushing guilt (while the man who could have literally physically saved her will continue to justify his failure to act through increasingly twisted rationale). jane was edgy and snarky and ostensibly kept most people at arm’s length but she was vulnerable just beneath the surface and she was dry and funny and smart and self-possessed and creative and she made beautiful things and saw beauty in things and she was kind enough to give jesse a chance when nobody else would and making impulsive mistakes during a relapse doesn’t make her some kind of evil temptress who was in it for the money all along and the fact that i’ve seen so many dudebro takes that imply just that makes me want to scream. she was only in like half a season but to me she is utterly indelible i love you jane i hope you are painting sick ouroboros murals in the afterlife

#lotte.txt #truly part of it is that father/daughter stuff just Gets to me #and (okay tw for talk of my own mental health issues in tags)#(namely suicide and sh and things of that nature)#but when i think of my suicide attempts and the worst of my self harm issues. and the way my parents were so afraid and i couldn’t see why #because in my mind it was just a battle of wills — i wanted control (over my life over my death) and they wanted to control me #for reasons — whatever they were — i couldn’t internalize that they were angry because they were scared and they loved me #but looking back on that time in my life now with much more clarity and a much better relationship with them?#the thought that i was so close to TAKING myself from them? that they were so close to losing a child who they love? haunts me breaks me #and if those thoughts ever resurface i imagine imagining how crushed my parents would be — i can’t even actually *imagine* it because itself #too painful #and my father is rational and reasonable and utilitarian sometimes to a fault and i rarely see him show fear or intense emotion #he is very loving and very kind but he’s a solutions first comfort second kinda guy #and i just remember how the solutions he would offer wouldn’t always help but he’d always offer them and sometimes it was annoying #but like he was doing what he could. he was trying so hard to keep me present and safe and healthy and alive #i don’t want to look at all of this through rose colored glasses because i had some really ugly moments w my parents. as jane did with don #but the point is (and i’m lucky enough to be alive to realize this) that this was all predicated upon profound love #and like again. the thought of even picturing how my dad would take it if i died is too much to bear #even typing this is making me weep uncontrollably lol #but so like. when don drives past the duplex and sees the paramedics and already knows that the unthinkable has come to pass.#the look of abject devastation and hollowness on his face. like the light’s gone out forever. it breaks me to my fucking core #i identify with jane in a lot of ways and . and like . okay you get my gist #ANYWAY!!!!!!! :D #brba #jane margolis

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inkskinned · 1 year

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it's been said before and i'm sure said better than i can phrase it. but really, really - if you like making "i'm going to kill myself" jokes, please try switching to being ironically conceited instead.

anytime something goes wrong, say things like "ah well at least i'm beautiful and charming and everyone loves me." when you forget something, try "my big huge brain is so smart and thinking about too many other very big wizardly thoughts you wouldn't even understand." when you're frustrated by one of your symptoms, start talking like you're in My Immortal. "Life has come for me but my eyes are beautiful pools of gorgeous fire and my hair is amazing. I stuck my middle finger up at life and told it to fuck off and it did."

just... try it for a month or two. try saying the most absurdly self-congratulatory shit you can think of.

i know it's tempting to make suicide or self-harm jokes. and for me at least, a decade ago (!) when someone suggested i stop making those kinds of jokes, i was kind of at a loss for what to replace them with. i wanted to make light of these moments, but genuinely (at the time) my first thought really was suicidal ideation. there was a part of me that even felt like ... i was kind of "making light" of that voice. that if i could say i want to die lol, it would help take the sting out of that genuine (albeit passive) desire. like i could turn my illness into a joke.

when i started complimenting myself instead, it felt awkward and stupid. it felt really, really ironic. what i was actually saying was nobody would ever think this stuff about me, that's what makes it so fucking funny.

but. the effect was immediate. first thing i noticed was the people around me. when i dropped a glass and said ah my skin is too beautiful and sleek the glass has swooned and broken for me, other people were suddenly overjoyed to jump in with the joke. rather than making an awkward moment, we'd both start cracking up. ah princess sleek hands, i've heard of you.

i was 19. i hadn't noticed i'd been making others tense when i said i want it all to end. i know now that it's incredibly hard to know how to walk that moment - do you talk to them about your concern? do you potentially make them uncomfortable by asking if they're okay? do you ignore the situation? do you help them pick up the glass, or do they need to do it by themselves? are they genuinely made suicidal over this small moment? and most importantly, how do you - without professional training or supplies - actually help?

most people want to help you pick up the glass in your life, they just have no fucking idea how to do it. they don't want to make anything worse. they don't want to make assumptions about you. they love you, they're scared for you - and being scared makes people kind of freeze up. it's not because they don't love you. it's because they do.

now when something bad happens, my first thought is how can i make a stupid joke about this. it isn't my brain saying you're a dumb fucking bitch. i spend more time laughing. i spend more time being gentle with myself. i spend more time feeling good.

and the thing is - what's kind of funny - is that you'd be surprised by how many people agree with you. the first time i said i'm too pretty to understand that, someone else said to be fair you're the prettiest person in this room. i promise - you really don't know how kindly your friends see you. but they love you for a reason. they sort of reverse-velveteen-rabbit you. your weird and ugly spots fade away and you just become... the love they want to give you.

go love yourself ironically. the worst thing that happens is that you end up tricking your reflection into actually loving you.

#something something toxic relationships notwithstanding #(re: the friends stuff)#most people love you. automatically. for being alive. like people are just MADE that way.#and the reason kms jokes don't always land is bc people fucking love you and are like - ahhh how do i help #let them help you!!!!!!

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yuyinesque · 5 days

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WOMANEATER | “𝗒-𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖻𝖾𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝗈𝗉𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗌𝖾 𝗁-𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗁𝗈𝗅𝖽 𝗆𝖾𝗋𝖼𝗒…”

⚘ précis. ≡ you're a therapist in a psyche ward, and your new patient isn't one you're particularly experienced with.

⚘ disclaimers. ≡ yandere!incel & psyche ward!therapist y/n, afab!reader (no fem-aligned prns used), physical violence, compulsive masturbation, hypersexuality, misogyny & women-blaming, usage of “bitch”, mentions of post-traumatic stress disorder (ptsd); obsessive behavior; delusion (secondary erotomania); age regressing; & urine, manipulation (guilt-tripping & gaslighting), mentions of suicide & self harm, implied rape fantasies & perversion.

⚘ category. ≡ nsft headcanons.

⚘ wc. ≡ 781.

𖦥 m.list. oc.list

🧷 yandere!incel who is a scrub-wearing individual who wears stoic expressions like they’re permanent masks, though at times the said mask tends to falter vastly when he’s around any woman; even fem-presenting figures drives him an inch deeper towards insanity. he’s picked numerous fights with women and only women, even when they’ve done nothing but walked past him. the fights were always prompted by truculence and defense, as for he would disclose evident signs that he was terrified of said woman, completely convinced that they were after him in some sort of ill manner, so he strikes before they even get the chance to blink. because of this, he’s been isolated away from female figures, and only male characters were capable of catering to him, as he was indifferent towards them. well, every male but you, a female.

🧷 yandere!incel who is quite the handful for inexperienced, psyche ward!therapist darling, as for they haven’t dealt with a patient with such a high caliber of disorders; their worst case so far was a suicidal woman who was diagnosed with type one bipolar. one session with the individual was enough to question your overall abilities. i mean, he despised you. at least that’s what you believed.

🧷 yandere!incel who is tired of you cheating on him with other patients! this is why he’s so angry towards you specifically, but he won’t say. however, he’s also completely infatuated with you; have i also mentioned completely horrified with you? you’ve noticed each time you would change your tone slightly, he would convert into a fretful mouse, apologizing incessantly as tears glossed his dark, beady eyes, also slipping up by referring to you as “mother” in a small, infantile voice. you concluded it was because you reminded him of such, and she was primarily the reason why he feared and hated women so much. motherly abuse.

🧷 yandere!incel who would have his calmer days since he was genuinely interested in his spouse. he’s never had a woman so madly in love with him, so it not only fed his ego, but causes his dick to swell with cum each time you evinced signs that confirmed you were oso desperate for his attention. with the way you sit up when you walk in, reassure him that everything will be fine, or even going out of your way to smile in such a lecherous manner. it angered him, especially when he begins groping his hardened crotch in front of you and complaining about you and your whorish antics. you would ignore him in response or threaten to cut the meeting short, which prompts a loud, slur-screaming, victim-blaming outburst in response.

🧷 “you’re such a bitch, you hear me?! a bitch! and a bitch li-like you shouldn’t even be alive! luring me, t-teasing me—all women are just a bunch of fffffucking sluts!!”

🧷 yandere!incel who also showed signs of hypersexuality and exhibitionism. he was a chronic masturbator, pleasuring himself to the most horrific things with your face in mind. just the thought of keeping you in your place by forcing you to perform taboo acts on the receptionist desk as everyone watched rotted his mind.

🧷 yandere!incel who would try to convince you that he doesn’t hate you only to voice his hatred towards you the next week. then he’d not only do that, but then claim that he’s never done such with tears in his eyes, finding your scoldings utterly unnecessary and so mean. there was even a time where you lost your patience and raised your voice at him, immediately causing him to not only an apologetic rant, but to begin pissing himself in the chair he was trembling and sobbing on, the strong scent of ammonia filling the room during the process.

🧷 yandere!incel who needed your touch or he’ll perform said disgraceful acts. there was a day where he pleaded for just a hug from you if he was good the whole week. once you confirmed it, he did just that. no fights, no arguments, nothing. he even apologized for freezing up and screaming at the poor, feminine soul that walked near him. you knew it was against the rules to be this affectionate towards patients, but you couldn’t break a promise. and so, you did—hugged him. awkwardly, even. he was rather short, so his face was buried within your chest, and the boner pressed against your thigh only made you feel nauseous, but not as nauseous as his next, ominous set of words.

🧷 “y-you better hope these h-hands hold mercy on your.. body once i luh-latch them onto you…”

yuyinesque | translate with permission & peruse without theft

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suffersinfandom · 5 months

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Controversial opinion (?): the Kraken Era wasn’t all that dark.

There’s a whole lot of meta and fic out there that portray early season two Ed as a bloodthirsty, hyperviolent monster, and when that portrayal is challenged, the rebuttal is usually along the lines of, “I’m just doing what canon did. Did you even watch the show?”

I did watch the show, and honestly? I expected Ed to be so much worse than he was! When I see people say they didn’t think Ed did enough to redeem himself or that he went past the point of no return, I just… don’t understand.

I already went into this in my way-too-long meta about Ed and abuse, but I do think it bears repeating (in a shorter post) because it seems like Ed’s actions -- more than the actions of any other character -- are scrutinized and discussed outside of the context of, y’know… a comedy about pirates. There’s tons of casual violence in Our Flag Means Death. Sometimes the violence is even funny!

So what does Ed actually do?

As far as I can remember (I’ve only seen season two a few of times, so correct me if I’ve missed something!), we see Ed directly harm someone twice in the first two episodes: first on the wedding boat, and then when he shoots Izzy in the leg. Kind of unimpressive numbers, yeah? Tbh, I'd expect more out of a heartbroken Blackbeard.

The first instance involves Ed shooting a man during a raid. That man has a sword through his chest before Ed fires, leading me to believe that Ed’s still following his season one pattern of keeping himself a step removed from murder (technically, the sword killed that guy). We also don’t see the murder happen; the man tumbles offscreen before Ed shoots. This makes the action less brutal. If the writers wanted us to be appalled by Ed’s violence, we would’ve gotten a graphic kill (or several).

And the second instance is Izzy. Ed shoots Izzy in the leg after he suggests that the shitty atmosphere is because of Ed’s feelings for Stede. Hot take, maybe, but I don’t think that was entirely out of line -- definitely not for a pirate captain whose first mate is acting out! Ed’s feelings for Stede are not the only problem; a significant chunk of the problem is Izzy. Izzy called in the navy and led to their capture and, more importantly, Izzy bullied Ed back into the Blackbeard persona. This is what Izzy said he wanted.

We’re also told that Ed has taken more of Izzy’s toes between seasons. This isn’t cool -- bosses definitely shouldn’t be asking for their employees’ toes -- but there is a precedent for it: in season one, Ed told Stede that he used to feed people their toes for a laugh (yuck). For a laugh. This, to me, implies that it’s not a huge deal. It’s certainly not completely unexpected pirate behavior, and it seems more lenient than, like, a keelhauling or a whipping. I think both of those things would've felt way more gruesome and dark.

As far as violent actions go, that’s not a lot. Like, numerically.

Things get darker in S2E2 when Ed becomes increasingly desperate for someone, anyone, to send him to doggy heaven. He’s unhinged and working his way up to a murder-suicide before he’s stopped, but he doesn’t lay a hand on anyone. He orders Archie and Jim to fight to the death. He ignores anonymous crewmembers as they’re swept overboard in the storm. This is bad! It’s self-destructive and selfish! But violent? Monstrous? I don’t really think so.

In my opinion, the worst thing Ed does is force his crew to do violence for him -- not because it’s violence (again, they’re pirates), but because the violence hurts them. THIS is what traumatizes them! Their trauma flashbacks are scenes of them hurting others, not of Ed hurting them directly. Ed didn’t physically torture his crew (with the exception of Izzy, and that’s complicated). His crime was driving them to do one violent raid after another, killing and plundering without any joy or theatrics. Ed feels trapped in the role of Blackbeard -- the role that he’s been desperate to escape -- and, in his heartbreak, he opts to trap his crew with him.

Yeah, Ed is messed up in the first two episodes of season two. I don’t blame the crew for almost killing him; it’s what needed to be done. I think that Jim, Archie, Frenchie, and Fang had every right to want Ed gone after Stede’s return.

But I don’t think that Ed was a super violent monster who tortured his crew and murdered his way through his breakup. He engages in very little onscreen violence, and the person that most of his violence is focused on -- Izzy -- is the same person who told him to be violent. I think that anyone who says that Ed’s actions in the first part of season two are extremely dark is either looking at them out of context, misremembering what actually happened and just recalling the dark tone, or working with some kind of motive.

In conclusion: Ed is a man who, at his very darkest, was still operating pretty firmly within the bounds of "stuff pirates do" (but not stuff Ed has historically done, presumably).

Also look at him. Thank you.

GIF by unearthlydust

#ofmd #ofmd meta #edward teach #me typing things #idk i just keep seeing this thing?#this 'ed is irredeemable to me personally' thing #and that's fine?#hate characters if you want to?#but i don't think the kraken is all that evil #i mean i guess ed disagrees #hence the guilt and agreeing to humiliation and apologies #my poor mentally ill blorbo

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trxppedmind · 3 months

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Romantisized Borderline.

If you have bpd this may triggers you!

Why the fuck would people even do that?

"I wan't a borderliner as my significant other."

No you don't. Its hell for you and for them.

You want someone who is absolutely obsessed, to the point just a wrong breath make them think you hate them.

You want someone who's probably is suicidal, self-destructive and self harming? "I can fix them." No you can't. Neither i think you can stop them.

You want someone that is extremly lovingly and affectionate only to become distant, ignoring and maybe even offensive in a eyeblink because they got triggered into Splitting or rage?

You want someone that probably feels offended if you need time for yourself or do spend time with your friends and don't answer your phone.

You want someone that may shouts and yells in one moment, only to cry and feel guilty in the next moment, maybe begging you to stay?

You do realise that its not just from time to time, but every fucking day? If they have a bad day's maybe even hourly moodswings?

You want just to help them? Thank you, but that's not your task in a relationship/friendship. Take care of yourself because the chance that you just ruin yourself is high.

Fuck, imagine cuddling in bed in a comfortable silence, they overthought something and suddenly push you off, just because a single though.

Wanna know what the worst is?

Maybe you noticed that I am extremely aware of my bpd. But that doesn't mean i can change, or fix myself. Because with the sudden overwhelming emotion, my mind is drowning in things like selfhate and that everyone will leave, no more awareness or control. I think its like that for many borderliners.

Please don't romantisize something people are suffering from. Thank you.

#borderline personality disorder #actually borderline #actually bpd #bpd awareness #mental health #vent #vent post #borderline culture is #bpd culture #bpd #bpd thoughts #bpd relationships #bpd relatable #bpd rant #stop romanticizing it

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jasmines-library · 4 months

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hi!! I’ve been going through a lot and needed something for comfort pft so I was wonderinf of you can do a batfam x suicidal!reader?? like hurt/comfort thank you!!

One Step at a Time

Note: Hello my lovely, I'm so sorry to hear that you're struggling right now, I hope that things get better soon, please remember that you are loved. My DMs are open of you ever need anything.

Warnings: Self harm, depression, suicidal thoughts, swearing. Please read with caution as this contains heavy themes.

Word Count: 1.2K

⛤ BATFAM MASTERLIST ⛤

It had gone unnoticed for a while. And that was in no way the Vigilantes’ fault. You had tried to keep it that way, burying your emotions deep beneath the surface so that they only appeared when you were alone.

You weren’t even sure when you started to feel this way, perhaps it was a failed mission or perhaps it was something unrelated, you didn’t know, but the thoughts and feelings never left. They grew like weeds in a brick wall, slowly burying themselves deeper into your mind and hacking away at your foundations until they began to crumble. No matter how much you tried to ignore them they wouldn’t leave as they screamed at you that ‘you weren’t good enough’ that you were ‘worthless’ and ‘didn’t deserve anything’. There were hundreds and thousands of thoughts that ricocheted across your mind so quickly that they left you completely drained and disorientated. And then came the other feelings…

You couldn’t help it. You had tried to, but the flood of emotions became too much and you resorted to finding ways to release it that you hoped the others wouldn’t notice. So you watched as the razor glinted under the light; a cruel piece of steel doused in red flames that sparked from your skin, not even bothering to hold back the tears that fell heavy down your face and splattered onto your shirt. At first you had told yourself it was a one time thing, but as the thoughts became worse, so did your urge. But the worst part was, you couldn’t help but feel guilty for it. Guilty for how your friends and family would feel when they found out. Guilty for how many times you had thought about just taking your own god forsaken life to make it easier for you and-

At first, you continued with your daily life. You had plastered on a smile and greeted them with a laugh leaving them none the wiser. But you were exhausted now. The lack of sleep from nights spent staring at the ceiling hadn’t helped, and you were struggling to bring yourself to leave your room. Everything began to feel like such an effort and you often pondered over if it was working. You often found yourself laying in bed staring blankly at the ceiling, unaware of time passing.

Your disappearance hadn’t gone unnoticed. The boys missed your face at dinner. They missed seeing you around the house and they quickly grew concerned when you started appearing less and less. Though you always seemed to have a smile on your face when they saw you, they had noticed that your eyes didn’t quite have that same spark that they usually held.

One particularly grey evening, you were curled up on your bed when you heard the soft rap of knuckles against the door. It had been a particularly rough day, and you couldn’t bring yourself to move so you knew that it was one of the boys coming to check on you. Neither of them spotted you yesterday either, and their concern was weighing down heavily on them. You didn’t respond. You kept your eyes closed and hoped that they would leave, assuming that you were asleep because you knew the second that you saw one of them that your heart would shatter into a million more pieces.

“Y/N?” Jason’s voice called out into the darkness as he pushed open the door slowly. You didn’t have your curtains drawn but the dark and foggy night sky kept the room pitch black. Again, you didn’t reply in hopes that he would leave, but you could feel the tears welling up behind your eyes.

“Kid?” He whispered, pushing the door all the way open and allowing the light from the hallway to flood in. With this he could see your body curled up on the bed. “You okay?”

Silence. Tedious silence.

“I know you’re awake.” He said. He had heard your uneven breaths. Your stomach dropped, but you still made no move to react to him.

You heard multiple steps of footsteps approach the bed before it dipped down beside you, which meant that he had his brothers with him. Your heart shattered and you sucked in a ragged breath.

“You weren’t at dinner.” Tim said. “We thought you might be hungry.”

You heard him place something down on your desk.

“Where have you been, Y/N/N? No one’s seen you recently.” Dick spoke softly, placing a hand on your back gently.

You rolled over slowly, pushing yourself up slowly so that your back was against the headboard. They all saw the tear tracks on your cheeks but none of them said anything instead they shared an unspoken glance.

“ ‘m fine.” You told them blankly.

“Y/N-”

“I said I’m fine.” You tried to stay strong, but the waver in your voice betrayed you. “You should all go. You probably have better things to do.”

“Tt, why would you think that?” Damian frowned.

“I don’t know” you shrugged, throwing your head back and feeling the tears welling up again.

“Talk to us, kid.” Jason said “Tell us what’s up.”

You began to cry again at the tenderness of their thoughts for you, but the guilt built up again. “I- I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“I- can’t do it anymore. Everything is just too much.” You explained.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… I feel so useless. I feel like I don’t belong anywhere! I just want it all to stop!”

“Oh, Y/N/N…” Jason said, pulling you close to his chest that you continued to cry into. “I’m so sorry you’re feeling this way.”

“I can’t do this anymore. Please…I want it all to stop.”

The brothers shared a worried glance.

“It will kiddo. It will, we promise.” Dick told you as he reached out to play with your hair. “We’re gonna help you.”

“Dick is right,” Tim told you. “We love you, so, so much Y/N. And we always will. And we’re gonna help you.”

“It might take a little while,” Jason added, “but that’s absolutely okay. What you’re feeling is okay, Y/N, but we’re going to help you until you feel better.”

You nodded hesitantly.

“We’re going to be with you every step of the way Y/N. The good and the bad, we will always be by your side.” Damian chimed in.

“You are so, so loved Y/N. We couldn’t ask for someone more perfect in our lives and we’re not going anywhere.”

You sniffled at their comforting words as they worked to calm you. The five of you knew that the process would take some time, but that was okay. They would stand by you for as long as you needed. They would be there for every step forward and step backward that you took to reassure you that they were so impeccably proud of you everyday, and they would be there to remind you that you were so, so loved and that things would get better one step at a time.

Helplines:

If you're in crisis and need to talk right now, there are many helplines staffed by trained people ready to listen. They won't judge you, and could help you make sense of what you're feeling.

Samaritans (or call 116 123)

SANEline on 0800 689 5652

CALM on 0800 58 58 58 or CALM webchat service.

There are many more helplines for you to reach out to if you are ever needing someone to talk to.

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pistatsia · 5 months

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OKAY so the only thing I want to say about yesterday's spoilers (Ness backstory) is that borderliner* Ness is canon now lol

✅ explosive anger

✅ feeling neglected, alone, misunderstood most of the time

✅ low self-esteem and the resulting self-hatred

✅ strong, overwhelming emotions

(feelings that can't be explained == too high (for average person) bursts of them. Inability to handle them)

✅ black and white thinking

(Isagi's either good (tosses to Kaiser) or bad (doesn't toss to Kaiser) lol)

✅ fear of abandonment + self-harm

✅ very intense, frequent, extreme emotional swings

(difference of one second)

(difference of one second pt.2)

✅ maladaptive daydreaming

✅ determining one's value through relationships with others

✅ unstable relationships

I'm really disappointed that chapter haven't shown Ness' attempts to gain his parents and siblings love but, eh, okay. I can work with that

A little background on who people with borderline personality disorder are and where do they come from. (Of course, each case is unique. I'm talking about the average manifestation of the disorder here.)

Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD) is a type of personality disorder in which a person is unstable, hypersensitive, highly anxious, and has no sense of self (no feeling of identity). One in ten patients end up committing suicide.

In fact, borderliners are people with no emotional skin. What for a stable person is a small domestic nuisance - for a borderliner is boundless terror, fear, a complete sense of helplessness and overwhelming self-loathing. Are you sick? It's your fault, you're worthless. You forgot your pass and had to buy an underground ticket? You're disgusting, step under a train right now. You forgot the food in the fridge and it spoilt? Don't you dare eat for another three days, punish yourself, cut yourself because you're nothing. That's not an exaggeration, it's true. And then you see an advert with a doggy and you laugh until you cry and all is fine.

It's like that dozens of times in one day.

Why do borderliners work this way? Heredity plays a role (which in Ness's case can be seen, for example, by the fact that he reacted acutely to some things even as a child), but to a greater extent, of course, the family, because when BPD is treated in the early stages, it is more easily reduced to remission (but does not disappear completely - it is like the core of the personality). Speaking of family types, typically borderliners come out of families with a narcissistic parent or the same borderline. Why exactly is that the case?

Because life with a narcissist/borderliner parent is an endless battlefield in which the child is forced to survive. Any emotion you have, if it doesn't fall under the parent's incomprehensible ideas, is repulsive. Any request you make and attempt to speak your mind is a violation of all laws and the worst offence. Today you're the golden child, tomorrow you're trash. Today your mom says she loves you, and tomorrow she blames you for divorcing your dad. Today dad likes the tea you made him, tomorrow he'll throw it in your face. It's a constant violation of personal space, an inability to have privacy, an impossibility to defend your interests - and yet a staggering neglect, a removal of the child from your life. Parents in such families usually divide their children into "golden" and "outcast" children, emphasising in every possible way how terrible the lousy sheep of the family (the outcast child) is, and encouraging bullying by their siblings.

Sounds similar to Ness's story, doesn't it?

In such families, the child by the age of 6 or 7 already knows that he is disgusting, horrible, and must do anything to avoid being abandoned - because the parents emphasise in every possible way that he is horrible, but they (for now) keep him out of mercy. A child learns by the slightest movement of the eyebrows and corner of the mouth to know when mom loves you and when she hates you, when dad is good and when he's bad.

The childhood of such children is a battlefield, and they come out of it emotionally disabled. For example, a very common consequence of living in such a family, in addition to BPD, is PTSD. Yeah, like war veterans.

(and by the way, borderliners VERY often end up paired with… Narcissists. Because it's a familiar love-hate game. And on top of that, also a beautiful (non-existent) personality to take a bite out of for your non-existent self))

-------

(if it seems like I'm somehow writing about borderline disorder a bit too unkindly - I love Ness and sympathise with him. It's me whom I don't love lol)

#alexis ness #kainess #blue lock #bllk #bllk analysis #blue lock analysis #character examination #blue lock spoilers #bllk spoilers

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neil-gaiman · 10 months

Note

TW: Self-harm, slight mention of suicide, eating disorder, sexual stuff, drugs, etc.

I don't know how to start this, so I'll just write it down (I put a TW, in case you reblog it).

In 2019 just a few days before Good Omens premiered on Prime Video, I started self-harming, I was about 10/11 years old, I started doing it because of problems with my identity, problem with my family and the bullying I received.

I started watching the show and I must admit that from there I started to be your fan, I was not good at searching for information so I just read Coraline and watched GO.

In 2020 I had one of the worst moments of my life, I was 12, I started having problems with food, my weight and appearance, and I hadn't accepted that I was trans yet.

Everything that had happened last year came back stronger, I found even more series that I liked and finally I could read Good Omens in physical (i mean, physical book).

In 2021 was literally the worst year, I was raped by a teacher at 12 (in December, about 17 days before my birthday), a few days after I turned 13, I started getting high, sexualized to get male affection from men much older than me, and my eating disorder and self-harm were much stronger.

The only thing that calmed me down from all that situation for at least a while were your books, movies and series.

Then, in 2022, my vids improved a little, I got off drugs and bulimia, self-harm was getting regulated, and at the end of the year I stopped self-harming, I also stopped caring what people said and started to enter the English community of my favorite fandoms (I learned more English with that, than with my private lessons lol).

And today, in 2023, at the age of 14, I'm happy to be your fan, I'm proud of your work, and very excited for the second season.

Thank you for saving my life, I love you. (I'm not afraid to admit that you saved my life from committing suicide 6 times).

I’m so glad you are here. Well done!!

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bea-does-stuff · 1 year

Note

hi ml, could u do dabi, bakugo and Todoroki if you were $ucid@l, it sounds a lot but I rlly need it rn. No shame if you don’t too, just:/

I’m not sure if your going through something or not, but we all deserve some comforting love every now and then, stay strong my lovelies!

Warning: suicide mentions and attempts, self harm mentions, angst, a lot of crying

Word count: 648

Characters: Dabi, Bakugou and todoroki

𝐃𝐀𝐁𝐈

He found about you being suicidal when he got back home really late, the moment he opened the door he could hear violent crying coming from the bathroom

It took a while of convincing, but you eventually admitted that you weren’t ok, and it utterly broke his heart. The only words that came into his mind were “Why didn’t you… tell me sooner..?”

Once he discovers your suicidal, he will never leave you alone, even if the lov gets mad at his lack of attendance, he doesn’t give a shit, your more important, your always more important

He will also do everything to make you happy, he will do the chores he always rebelled on doing, he will always make sure you drink enough water, and he’ll hold every hour of the day until those rain clouds disappear.

He also wanted to give you a gift, something to cheer you up, it was a big plushie of your favourite animal, but the special thing about it was that Dabi didn’t steal it like all the other gifts he gave you, he saved up enough money to get it himself, to walk into a public place and buy something to make you smile, even if it’s just for one day

His small gesture of kindness really caught you off guard and overwhelmed you, you hugged him as tight as you could while softly crying

“I-I’m sorry…i don’t know why i’m c-crying i-” No.” Dabi stopped you “Never apologise for crying, not to me or anyone.”

𝐁𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐆𝐎𝐔

He found out in the worst way possible, you were on a balcony, staring at the ground, your eyes were empty, not sadness, joy, anger, they just looked tired and emotionless

He was lucky enough to grab you by the hand before you jumped, which really caught you off guard “What…the hell were you thinking?” He was angry, but not that usual anger he had, he was quiet, but deep down you knew he was scared.

After that, he would do anything to make you smile, cook for you, cuddle you, take you out if you were comfortable with it

It all made you feel guilty, because no matter how much bakugou tried, you weren’t happy and he knew it

One day you eventually broke down, you began to sob uncontrollably “I-I’m so sorry! Your d-doing so much for me to make me happy but i…I” bakugou looked livid “Listen to me right now.” He narrowed his eyes i love you and i want you to be happy, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be sad” his words only made you cry more, even if this time the cries weren’t because of sadness

He cupped your face, his eyes staring into your puffy ones

“It’s ok, to not be ok”

𝐓𝐎𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐎𝐊𝐈

He finds out when it’s late at night and your both in bed, he cuddling up to you when he noticed the tears beginning to form in the rims of your eyes, you looked at him, trying desperately not to sob or shriek, silently uttering the word “I…I don’t think i’m ok…”

He knows what it feels like to be in a dark place, he knows it oh so well, and even if emotions aren’t his strong suit he will try, he will try for you

There's so much he wants to say to you but the words can’t leave his tongue, so instead he tells you with actions

If you stay up all night crying, he’ll be there patting your back and crying with you

If you stay in your room and lock your door, he’ll make sure there's nothing in there that can hurt you

If your having a bit of a happier day, he’ll enjoy every moment of it, and even if the rain clouds come back, that's fine, because he’ll be here every step of the way

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 7 months

Note

aita for telling someone they're a horrible person and making them relapse?

trigger warning: self-harm, suicide(?)

so im, like many teenagers online, an avid participant of fandom spaces and my current favorite is genshin impact. if you've ever interacted with the genshin fandom you may guess where this is going but i happened to find myself liking a ship that is the big nono ship in this fandom (aka the incest ship, kaeluc) but since i mostly stick to my space and don't really interact with anyone that doesn't already have content of this ship on their account id never gotten into any hot water over it.. until recently.

this person, ill call them rick, suddenly liked a bunch of my (non-ship related) posts. normal interaction, i didn't think anything of if and moved on. (i didn't even notice at the time, but they unliked all of the posts before what happened next, i assume as they realized i was a proshipper and didn't want to associate with me.) next thing i know, the same user is in my askbox, sending me the most vile, hate filled messages i have ever seen.

ok... no biggie. i delete the asks, block them and move on with my life. but it doesn't stop. i had never in my whole life received hate online, but now for the first time ever, i had a dedicated hater, sending me anonymous asks at all times of the day. death threats, dox threats, telling me to kill myself, calling me a degenerate and all that, all with the same consistent writing style. now, one could say that maybe this wasn't rick, and maybe not even all the same person but i really feel like this is the only reasonable explanation considering i have like 6 followers and my most famous post has 3 notes. i don't think im important enough to have that many haters.

so, i did the only thing i could think to do: turned off anon asks. then the asks started coming from random throwaway accounts. ok...turned off asks. then it was dms. turned those off too. THE FUCKING COMMENT SECTIONS OF MY POSTS.

dedication isn't enough to describe this. at this point it's actually becoming distressing to me and im considering closing my whole account cause i just wanna get away from all this. im 16, i don't have the mental capacity to spend all day policing my social media because someone wants me to die for liking fictional incest.

so i very reluctantly unblock rick and send them a dm. i very gently ask if they are the person who has been sending me asks/dms/etc and if they are, if they could please stop because it's become genuinely distressing to me and i just want to be silly on a website. they block me.

alright, im now out of options. everything on my profile is blocked at this point and i don't even want to post anything else so i just kind of leave the account behind for a while. when i come back, i discover that someone HACKED into the account and defaced the whole thing (changed pfp, deleted posts etc etc) so now im genuinely bummed. i go to rick's profile and guess who has been unblocked? i ask them if they can please answer my question. they don't answer but instead tell me i deserve everything ive gotten and i should choke for all they care.

i tell them they're a terrible person and go absolutely off the rails like the dumb, upset teenager i am. i didn't say anything particularly horrible (mostly i just tell them about how awful they've made me feel over fictional shit that really doesn't matter and how i just wanted peace) but i definetely wouldn't like to receive a message like that. and rick didn't either, because they blocked me.

well, since im sure you're wondering where this comes in, here's where i kind of feel like an asshole:

i continued to stalk rick's account on a different blog (because i was bitter. ok?) and they've been posting about how they relapsed into self harm because of a message they received from a stranger and how they've been crying non-stop and this is the worst relapse they've had in years and etc etc and i just got this pit in my stomach. this person's bio says they're 15! i don't want to ever be the reason a fifteen year old is hurting themselves! i've been feeling like a piece of shit ever since (esp since i also deal with sh) and i just feel like the worse person ever. i honestly don't know if i was just acting like anyone else and this was an unfortunate consequence or if i need to go pray for god to forgive my sins or something.

aita?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole #suicide cw #self harm cw #ship discourse

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ziggyzolch · 19 days

Text

Your Prettiness is Seeping Through II (Wanda Maximoff x Reader)

Warnings: maybe bungled the medical stuff and process of being admitted, suicidal ideation, aftermath, descriptions of self harm kind of? its not like currently happening. Bulimia and what comes with it. Those r the main things I think.

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

-------the shame is manifest in my resistance------- ❅❅❅

“So they’re admitting you?”

You could feel the snow being crushed beneath your weight as you leaned back on your hands. The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon and your best friend was sitting next to you on a random curb, taking the pack of cigarettes from your hand.

It was mid-winter. The city streets bustled with the cheer of festive Christmas decorations and the harmonies of carolers. It almost makes you feel better. You never cared for Christmas, or religion in general, but the joy in the little kids’ faces at the snow blanketing the streets, and the laughing of teenagers having snowball fights was cute.

It helped.

You sigh, turning towards your friend, “No, I don’t think so. Most that’ll happen is I’ll be in therapy, I guess.”

She rubs her hands together in an attempt to warm up, “I think I’d kill myself if I got caught. Kidding, you’ll be fine. Probably.”

You scoff, “Thanks,”

You snatched the pack from her hand, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it.

You had gotten over the fear of throat cancer a long time ago. It’s more of an expectation than a fear now. Smoking and purging at the same time kind of makes it an inevitability. The thought of death didn’t scare you. Not that you were cripplingly suicidal. You didn’t desperately want to die anymore, you just wouldn’t mind if you did. If you died from all of these habits, it was fine, great even. If not, whatever.

Passively suicidal.

Tomorrow, you’ll have your long awaited psych evaluation. You were shocked that it wasn’t the first thing they’d done. You weren’t that big of a risk anyways. A week has passed since your parents caught you, and you’d been made to take a number of medical tests to determine the severity of your bulimia, or something.

The first one was a general physical assessment, the most simple yet most uncomfortable. You had been made to wear a hospital gown, which you felt was overboard but whatever. They wouldn’t be able to admit you just based off of a BMI measurement, you were sure. You weren’t very underweight, most bulimics you knew weren’t. In fact, most of them were normal, sometimes overweight, but you just assumed it was because they were bad at it. You didn’t feel anything looking at your weight. Numbers mattered, sure, but with every binge and purge, your weight fluctuated like crazy, so you learned to just look for signs of weight loss via mirror.

She read your BMI out loud, you knew it wasn’t low enough to be a concern. You internally celebrated, until you noticed her eyes glancing down to your arm.

Shit.

Burning was your preferred method of self mutilation. Cutting was unsatisfying, messy, and a pain in the ass. Burns look disgusting when they heal though, which was the only downside. The scars are easily passable as cooking accidents and such. When they’re still healing, though, charred, blistered, and disgusting, they’re almost impossible to excuse. Your mom had caught you once, with your worst burn nonetheless. One offer of taking over the chores for the day and she was off your back, already taking her place on the sofa.

The burns weren’t fresh, not at all. Most of them were years old, but you panicked nonetheless. You’ve seen how batshit they get at any sign of self harm. You watched as she glanced towards your arm, then turned back to her clipboard, writing something down. Subtly moving your other arm behind your back, you cover up the bruises on your knuckles.

You also had to go to a dentist appointment. Last time you went, you had just gotten your braces off and permanent retainers in. You still have glue on the back of your teeth from when your top retainer broke, they had never gotten rid of it. With how often it fell off, you were glad the dentist had given up on putting in replacements.

You were more worried about this appointment than the physical assessment. You couldn’t keep food down, smiling with your eroded teeth was uncomfortable, and your breath was horrible. The dentist would definitely notice something, at the very least that you were a smoker. Your mother would hate that more than bulimia.

Honestly, despite all of these effects, you got the benefit of barely having a gag reflex. Which, now that you think about it, doesn’t really matter considering you don’t even like men.

Surprise was clear on your face when your dentist complimented you on the health of your teeth and sent you on your way.

You didn’t really know what the other tests were, something about heart arrhythmias and electrolytes. You didn’t care, you were so over it. It was all bullshit. You weren’t sad. You weren’t suicidal nor were you a danger to yourself or others. You were just bulimic, not on the brink of fucking brain collapse.

All of this was bullshit.

❅❅❅

Wanda’s senses come back one by one. Her ears pick up the soft whirring of machinery and occasional beeping of monitors. The soft footsteps of nurses and patients walking past, the opening and closing of a door as doctors enter, the scratching of their pens against their clipboard. The lingering scent of antiseptic reaches her nose, and the bitter taste in her mouth makes itself known. Her fingers pinch the stiff material of her gown, and she can feel the IV in her arm. Finally, she opens her eyes.

Waking up in the fiery depths of hell would’ve been better than where Wanda was right now. She mumbled curses under her breath as she looked around, taking in the hospital equipment around her.

“Natasha?” She croaked out when she caught sight of her friend sleeping on the hospital chair in the corner of the room. Natasha jumped up, wiping the drool off her chin and rushing towards Wanda. “Oh, thank god.” She sighed, pulling Wanda into an awkward hug.

She pulls back when she realizes Wanda wasn’t hugging her back. “How do you feel?” Wanda cringes at the pity on Natasha’s face. “Peachy.” She turns away, not stopping Natasha when she reaches to grab her hand.

The widow sighs, rubbing circles into Wanda’s hand, making her fingers twitch slightly. They sit in silence, not knowing what to say to each other. Wanda was glad Natasha had found her. She didn’t want to be found at all, but at least it was Natasha.

She was so stupid, so fucking stupid. Of course it wouldn’t have worked. She should’ve just shot herself in the head, like a man. She’d read somewhere that men have higher suicide rates because they carry it out in more extreme ways. Girls usually go for lighter, prettier deaths. Overdoses, slitting their wrists in a rose petal filled bathtub, and such. More survivable, and less of a burden for whoever cleans up after them. Men don't feel the same obligation. So what if it's more work for the cleaners? A shotgun to the head is easier for them, that's what matters. They don't think about how puffy their face would get if they hung themselves, or how awkward they'd be positioned on the ground if they jumped off a building. They don't think about the possibility of surviving afterwards and dealing with the deformity.

Pietro’s lifeless body flashes in her mind.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

Wanda finally notices the iron grip she had on Natasha’s hand.

She didn’t want to talk about Pietro. Never. “What’s going to happen to me?”

Her friend looks away, “You’re suspended until you get help.”

“What! No!” Wanda sits up, snatching her hand out of Natasha’s grip, “This was the first time! Bruce tried to kill himself, why isn’t he suspended?”

“That was before he even joined.”

Wanda sighs, “So, what like, therapy for a week?”

Natasha raises her eyebrows, “Wanda, you tried to kill yourself. You need to be monitored.”

“I’m not a fucking child. Jesus, Nat!”

“It’s not up to me, Fury’s orders. Either get help or you’re fired, basically.”

“Don’t I need a psychological evaluation or some shit?”

“Wanda, you swallowed a whole bottle of whatever-the-fuck pills. I can evaluate you right now. You’re fucked in the head, babe.” Natasha attempts to joke.

She sighs in relief when Wanda huffs out a laugh, “So, you’re sending me to the loony bin?”

“Yup. It’ll be great though, perks of being an Avenger.” Natasha places a comforting hand on Wanda’s shoulder.

“How long will I be there?”

Natasha grabs Wanda’s hand that’s picking at her gown, “Until you’re better.”

The sound of a girl yelling stops their conversation.

❅❅❅

“Inpatient would be the best option…”

The ringing in your ears blocks out whatever the doctor was saying. What the fuck. You were not crazy. So what if you were bulimic. You didn’t constantly starve yourself and avoid food so you were chill, but you also were not getting fat, so you were hot. It’s like a win-win.

You’re sitting with your parents, a doctor across from you. He must be a therapist, or psychologist…psychiatrist? Potato, Tomato.

A hand on your shoulder brings you back to earth. Tears are pooling in your mothers eyes, your father is sighing into his hand. “What about my classes? My life!”

“Lower your voice. You aren’t being sent away to the fucking Alcatraz.” Your father grits out.

The doctor chimes in, “I’m sure you’ll be able to do your school work, most institutions let you have books and supervised computer time.”

You push your mothers hand off your shoulder. “Why are you doing this to me?”

She scoffs, “Me? Why are you doing this to yourself!”

“You can’t make me!” Passersby can hear your voice through the closed door of the office.

It was true, they couldn’t really. You were a legal adult, they couldn’t make you do shit. Your mother pinches the bridge of her nose before turning to your father expectedly. You look back and forth between them with an eyebrow raised.

“We won’t support you anymore if you don’t do this.” He finally pushes out.

“What? As if you’ve ever supported-”

Oh. Financially. College and such. Housing and such. Food…and such.

You’re not that level of adult, yet.

“What the fuck-”

“Language!”

“No! What the actual fuck! I’m not sick!”

Your father’s face contorts in anger, “Did you not hear a single word the doctor said? Your potassium levels, electrolytes, and heart are all fucked! You could have a heart attack!” He takes a breath,

“You are killing yourself.”

“What?” You don’t know what to say. Why is your heart beating so fast?

You let out a frustrated shriek, getting up to leave. They don’t know what they’re saying. You storm out of the office, narrowly avoiding passing nurses and stretchers, trying to ignore the sense of dread building within you.

Heart attacks were a lame death. You could imagine how stupid you'd look; jaw wide open, leaning back in your desk chair, clutching at your chest. The door to your room is always locked, so your parents wouldn’t care to check for a while. They’d just assume you were isolating yourself.

Stiffening up in that position, rotting and decomposing. So lame, so ugly.

It didn’t scare you.

Your head ricocheting off a wall interrupts your spiral.

Natasha winces, peaking over the door to find you on the floor, rubbing your head. Wanda had asked her to check what was going on, and you happened to be passing by at the same time she opened the door. You push yourself off the floor before Natasha could help you up. Black spots appear in your vision and you start swaying. You must’ve stood up too fast.

Natasha holds you up as you fall into her for a second, before you regain your bearings.

“Get off me!”

She lets go immediately, raising an eyebrow when you double-take at the sight of Wanda.

‘She’s so skinny.’

Wanda looks up at you, confused when she takes you in. You could’ve been the same weight as her, if not a little more. She doesn’t read people's thoughts if she can help it, but yours were so loud. You blush when she makes eye contact with you, turning and stomping away.

Your footsteps fade as Natasha closes the door, making her way back to Wanda. The widow smiles at Wanda, poking her side, “I think she has a crush on you.” Wanda’s eyes widen, “No way; she said I was skinny.” Natasha tilts her head, “Like in a disgusted way?” The witch looks down at her hands.

She assumed it was envy at first, but you didn’t look like you weighed significantly more than her. Nor was it disgust, based off of how you looked at her.

“Not…really. I don’t know.”

Natasha sighs, “Well, it doesn't matter. We’ll fatten you up in no time.”

She winces at Wanda’s obviously forced laugh.

She didn’t like being skinny, but it was an effect of her depression. It wouldn’t be that easy to reverse. The only reason she was open to this treatment was so that she could go back to work. She’ll just pretend to get better, go back, and work until she can’t take it anymore. Next time, she’ll use a gun. Actually, would she subconsciously stop the bullet with her powers? The pills almost killed her, maybe she’d just lock her door next time. She could pick up smoking, maybe that’d be like a backup. A slow, eventual death could be happening in the background while she found short term options. Multitasker.

“What’re you thinking about?”

Wanda is taken out of her reverie as Natasha pokes at her stomach again. She smiles, shaking her head and curling up into the bed. The older redhead pats her shoulder, “The squad’s going to visit before you leave. Just thought I’d give you a heads up.”

Wanda groans, she didn’t need any more people up her ass.

She stiffens at the sound of sniffling, looking up when she feels her shoulder dampen.

“Don’t ever do that again.”

Natasha leans over her frame, hair masking her face. The brunette stammers, racking her brain for a reply. She’d never seen Natasha so emotional. It was like hearing Steve use slang.

She sighs, curling further into herself and ignoring Natasha. She wishes she could reassure her. Tell her that even the thought of trying again made her nauseous, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t live the rest of her life seeing her brother's corpse every time she blinks.

Living with the memory of Pietro’s death for the rest of her life was worse than any torture she’d ever endured.

She ignores the flashing images as her eyes drift close, falling asleep to the sound of Natasha’s sniffling.

❅❅❅

A/N: I lowk regret writing in in second person but yolo. reply to this post if u wanna get tagged in the next chapter. I hope you enjoyed!

Tags: @mathxa @nikkinss

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utilitycaster · 7 months

Text

Sean's general self-loathing is well established, but I think the exact nature of it is something I haven't talked about at length or seen discussed in full elsewhere.

At first glance it may seem as though "just fighting squid dogs until I'm dead" and Sean's willingness to go down swinging, throwing himself at most threats, stem from him wishing for a heroic death, but I don't think this is the case. He'd like it - it would give Bee a good thing to tell his mother, for whatever that's worth - but the truth is something he says elsewhere: "No shit. I'm a monster too."

Sean is not terribly worried about harm to himself. It is tempting to assume that his decision to throw the gun down the drain is about wishing to stop himself from using it for suicidal impulses; but I don't think it is. He's worried about using it on others. He throws it away immediately after he envisions the letter in which his mother accuses him of killing innocents and flashes back; later, he acknowledges that had he had a gun, he might have shot Lucas: "I'm not holding a weapon right now, so when my right index finger twitches, nothing happens."

It's helpful to understand Sean in terms of two of the people who come closest to understanding him: Bee and Nathaniel.

Bee, on the surface, has a lot in common with him: both lost their entire family, one way or another, other than each other, Marion, and Peggy (who they did, in a way, lose) and their homes in the war. Bee understands Sean's past - him as a boy, before all of this - in a way no one else can, since Marion was also himself quite young. The difference, however, is that Bee wants to return to that past - and, to be honest, that would fix the majority of her problems. Were Bee's husband to still be alive? Were she to have her home again? That's what she wants! That would be life-changing! And so she thinks about happier times, and urges Sean to go back to a more innocent time, and blames Nathaniel as a figurehead for the war that took this from them.

The problem is that Sean's problem, in the end, is that he went to war and found out he was the kind of person who'd kill things that look like children. He doesn't think they were real children, maybe, but some days he's not sure. His worst fear is that his mother would know precisely what he did with NoMAD, in Ghost company, and he believes she'd hate him for it. If Sean had an apartment? If Sean's mother were out and living in her tenement? Hell, if his brothers were alive? This would not change. It certainly doesn't help, that there's immense loss and poverty on top of all that, but in the end, Sean does not trust himself to make choices, believes it to be only a matter of time before he hurts someone again (to the point that I wonder if this is why he's avoiding his mother, or if it's because that if he spends more time with her she might realize who he is now), and now sees himself, in a way, as, well, kind of like a squid dog - can be tasked to be a protector, but corruptible, easy to turn, and liable to bite those on the same side.

Sean explicitly equates death as freedom from having to make decisions - because he believes he will make wrong ones.

Nathaniel, on the other hand, is much more ignorant of Sean's material losses - he is unaware Sean is living at the chapter house nor does he know about his mother - but what Nathaniel does share, and Bee does not, is that sense of identity shaped by a specific action (or in Nathaniel's case, inaction). Nathaniel thinks himself a coward because he did not save his older brother from drowning; it defines him perhaps even more profoundly than the war (though his response to his officer's pistol indicates the war left plenty of marks on him as well).

Nathaniel might not know the details of Sean's connection to baseball in the same way Bee does (though, notably, they are the only two to engage with it; Jean and Marion haven't). It's not clear if Nathaniel knows quite what happened in Ghost Company either - it's not even stated if Sean came to Echo Company before, or after, though it really only makes sense after. However, he does understand someone who doesn't think they will make the correct choices; he understands guilt and self-loathing in a way Bee does not. He understands being the surviving child and believing your parents got the worse deal out of that. And so it's Nathaniel who understands the importance of giving Sean orders, and the (temporary and false) absolution even an imperfect institution and the identities it confers provides.

Nathaniel's issues with himself are not on the same level as Sean's - he seems to have come to a place of "I'm a coward, and would prefer not to be, but at least I'm attempting to use what skills I have" [ignore whether or not he's actually a coward, that doesn't ultimately matter in this discussion, the same way that it doesn't matter that Sean bought his sick brother a hat with his paltry spending money] whereas Sean is actively opposing any indication that he isn't a monster, or at best a weapon. But he does understand that Sean's issues come from a similar place and how to live with them - which is something Sean does not yet see as a possibility.

#welcome to let's talk about the importance of how a ttrpg character sees their own agency: a meta meta meta meta discussion #critical role #candela obscura #sean finnerty #beatrix monroe #nathaniel trapp

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sn0wshimmer · 9 months

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Systems, be kind to your “problematic” alters. No, I don’t mean don’t give them consequences for their actions, and no, I don’t mean just let them wreak havoc on your life. But I do mean try to work with them instead of against them.

We have one of these problematic alters. Her name is Nyx. She holds a lot of the trauma and holds a lot of mental illness symptoms and addiction problems. She embodies some of the worst parts of our abusers. Nyx has intense emotions that she can’t always control, she can be manipulative, nasty, mean, she takes front and suddenly we’ve been on a bender for four days and she’s been a total bitch to everyone who loves us and who we love. She self-harms, she’s the reason for a lot of our near misses with suicide. When we say she can be problematic, we MEAN IT.

We’ve spent years fighting with her, trying to keep her in headspace, treating her coldly. She always breaks out of containment. She’s weirdly good at it. But recently we’ve started thinking that Nyx’s propensity for breaking out is, in part, our brain trying to tell us something. Because after years of fighting against her, we decided to try something new. We saw her being angry and bitchy about a particular guy our partner was talking to, and instead of condemning her and locking her up, we asked her why.

Nyx didn’t know the answer at first, so we waited with her until she figured it out. She then explained that she feels like expressing her needs makes her a bad person (which is almost definitely an internalized message from our abuser), but circumstances around this particular guy were making her feel really insecure, and in the absence of being able to talk about what her actual feelings are, she tried to get rid of the threat by being overall angry and negative about him. In essence? Nyx feels like she can’t express needs because she feels like she should be able to meet them independently. So, the needs go unmet, and she ends up resorting to underhanded tactics to meet them, which doesn’t always work because people can’t read her mind, and then it builds up into a much bigger problem than it was originally.

And you know what? That’s something we can work with.

In one of our first acts of real system cooperation, we coaxed her into talking to our partner about how she felt, and she did, and she even wound up apologizing for her behaviour, on her own, without any of us making her.

We decided that instead of locking her back up, we’d give her the grace of letting her have a little freedom, and asked her not to go on a bender or self sabotage relationships. And you know what she did with front the next day?

She put on a cute outfit, put temporary pink hair dye in our hair, had a drink and a smoke at dinner with our parents and brother, and went to see the Barbie movie with our mom and nana. Not exactly the unhinged behaviour we’ve come to expect from her. The most unhinged thing she did was the hair dye, and honestly? The colour is temporary and it looks good on us. She showed off the outfit to anyone who would give her the time of day, and it was honestly adorable. She was so happy and excited to feel like a cute girl! It’s a very different side of her, but one that’s been here the whole time.

And all it took was offering her some understanding, teamwork and trust. She hasn’t gotten better overnight. She still has a lot of problems. There is still work to be done with her. But you know what did happen overnight? She’s agreed to work with us at all.

So yeah. Be kind to your problematic alters, because that’s the first step of cooperation.

#osdd #did #did osdd #osddid #actually plural #actually did #actually dissociative #plurality

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daniswoso · 3 months

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“Would that be so bad?”

Leah Williamson x Reader

Warnings: SELF HARM, mentioned and no one physically does it in the fic but it’s alluded to. Suicidal thoughts, HEAVY on the angst. Please don’t read if you are struggling, and read at your own risk and pace. Thank you.

Summary: What if you want something bad to happen?

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You were in bed. Asleep. Your back to the woman you love.

Meanwhile Leah was wide awake, adjusting herself every 3 seconds, but never being able to take her eyes off the back of your head.

The thing was, you had just faced a life altering (maybe even career changing, but Leah didn’t want to think about that right now) injury.

Your 2 ACL tear in 2 seasons. You recovered from your last one quicker than most, spending 289 days on the sidelines recovering as opposed to the typical 300 odd. Then you tore it again not even 3 weeks later in a match against Tottenham.

Ashleigh Neville went in for an ,admittedly awful, tackle which caused you to go down. You heard the pop, felt the same throb, felt the lump in your throat and the tears stream down your cheeks.

You knew you’d done it.

And Leah knew too, it seemed. Because she came storming down to Tottenham’s half with a look that rivalled the aggression of Roy Keane in his prime, fully prepared to rip both the ref and Neville a new one.

But when she saw you, crumpled on the floor looking utterly defeated she stopped short.

All she could think about was how much this was going to affect you mentally again, just like last time.

Because last time you isolated yourself. You stayed locked in your’s and Leah’s room, only going out for physio or doctor’s appointments, to have a quick wash, a single slice of toast; then the cycle repeated.

Lock yourself away.

Shower and go to physio.

Come back.

Eat one tiny thing.

Lock yourself away.

Repeat.

It was a dangerous cycle, Leah knew that as she was the one looking after you. But some days she felt like she’d failed, some days she’d find both new and faded cuts on your wrist and thighs that knocked her sick.

And this time was no different.

Leah had come to bed. You had been there all day. Leah had done her nightly routine, you had not. You’d been in bed all fucking day.

And Leah felt useless.

So at 3:29 AM, she shook you awake, sick of not knowing what was going on in your head.

“Babe..” You murmured, shaking her hands off you.

“Y/N please, just wake the fuck up.” The urgency in Leah’s voice and the crack in her tone caused you to shoot up.

“Love? Are you okay? What’s happening?” Questions came spewing out of your mouth at a million miles per hour, fearing for the worst.

Leah put a hand on your forearm to relax you and you try to ignore the slight sting of the fabric pressing against the lines on your arm, “I’m worried about you.” She admits.

And your heart stops, slowing down. Your eyes feel like they’re about to pop out of your skull.

“Please, please just talk to me, what’s going on?” Her voice was urgent.

“Nothing.” Your reply was calm, short.

“Y/N…” Leah sighs, switching on the lights. “If you don’t talk to me, something bad’s going to happen! I’m scared! Okay? I’m fucking scared what you’ll do to yourself!” She shouts, desperate to not cry.

“What if I want something bad to happen?!” You snap, your voice dry and your words loud.

Leah stops. You stop.

“Y/N… Are- Do you… Are you going to kill yourself?” Leah murmurs the words as if the mere thought of them makes you sick.

“I… No. I’m not going to, and- and I don’t want to kill myself… I just wouldn’t be sad if I did die soon.” You admit shakily, tears streaming and your breath coming in short shaky gasps.

“Oh… Oh baby.” Leah sobs, bringing you into a hug. “Why didn’t you tell me?” She mumbles into your hair as your tears wet her shoulder.

“I didn’t want to worry you.”

She tries to hold back a sob, kissing the top of your head, “You worry me more by locking yourself away.” She mumbles.

“Please just promise me you’ll talk to me. We can get better together.”

“Okay.��

“Okay?”

“Yeah.”

You were tired of feeling like you had the world on your shoulders, tired of feeling like you were deadlifting 600lbs by yourself. But you were so grateful Leah was there now.

***********

A/N: lowk hate the ending, but enjoy anyway!

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orcarnage · 4 months

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Errrrrm anyways Femto's birth was not an act of revenge on Griffith's part, it was an act of self harm 🐛

His entire self introspection sequence where he's a child again, holding the boy he thought died because of his dream. Griffith is childish, incredibly so. His dream is to have a kingdom, and when given the chance, the first thing he asks for? Wings.

I don't think removing the blame from his hands is the right take, however I'd like people to consider how much deeper his thought process goes in this moment.

Being permanently disabled after prison, having his men look down upon him with pity, being powerless to help Guts and Casca as they were ragdolled around by that apostle; he had lost everything he had fought for and all because he threw a childish tantrum over Guts leaving.

And yet, he rode that horse by himself, didn't he? Away from the hawks, towards a remnant of his dream. He wasn't in fact powerless, given time, he would have healed. Berserk has several disabled characters, I'm sure a pulley system prosthetic glove would have allowed him to flex his fingers and wield a sword once again.

The godhand prey upon his insecurities once they are summoned. They imply he is broken beyond repair, and the hawks, they follow casca now, not him. A huge act of betrayal, because they also believe there is no more use out of Griffith. When he sacrifices it all, the softness of the look he gives Guts... "I'm sorry." Is what it screams to me. His final act of self destruction, to destroy himself along with all he loved.

AND NOW FOR MY POOKIE FEMTO. An entity born out of a childlike dream, stripped of his humanity. I believe the worst thing taken from him, was his ability to regret. If someone has no regret, they cannot weigh their actions, they cannot look in retrospect properly, they lack empathy for their own selves. Femto is Griffith in a way, he has his memories, he was born from his dream, but he's incredibly machine-like. A form of Griffith boiled down to the bare essentials. Femto has no will of his own, the will he inherited is Griffiths. So like, hold the fuck up, isn't that incredibly messed up?

Taking away someone's ability to regret, you freeze them in time. He may move forward in the story, but he remains still. Stoic, following a dream inherited from his human self, which was so full of regrets that it was a crucial part of his character, even if he often denied regretting his actions (unreliable narrator ass.)

In short, sure have four eldeitch beings peer pressure a severely injured man, who is still in the stage where he feels useless given his new disability, and who was literally IN THE PROCESS OF COMMITING SUICIDE; I'm sure he'll have some iron will and not yield.

Hes a self destructive drama queen, don't give an alcoholic a bottle of vodka.

I'm not getting into neoGriff in this because that man is a MESS hes such a fucking liar hes so unreliable, he's the definition of 'source? I made it up.'

#femto #berserk #griffith berserk #griffith #femto berserk #shitty ramble #asking for wings; a caged bird whose only wish is to escape

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