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xxxtherrcollectivexxx · 6 months

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Genshin Muses and Their Mental Health (Headcanons)

Apologies for the extremely long post it took me a while to write. I just got a little thoughtful of what my Genshin Muses may possibly have troubles with mentally.

If you don't fancy reading, then quickly continue scrolling. :)

Alhaitham - Autism Look his autism has kind of stereotypical media driven signs of autism like the super intelligence, his hyperfixation on his scribe occupation, and his preference is isolation over social interactions. He can find it difficult to understand how others think and feel, and often impulsive to speak his mind regardless of how others will perceive it. He is exceptional in finding patterns and irregularities within a situation, and always manages to be multiple steps ahead. Also noise cancelling headphones?

Arataki Itto - Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD) You can't tell me otherwise. Listen to all that damn dialogue. Man is an utter himbo, and add in the ADHD to further his personality. Man is incredibly impulsive and unorganised in every sense of the word. He has one of the lowest frustration tolerances when it comes to his Kabuto fighting, can't concentrate on only one topic, but can be distracted by other stimuli. But in other situations he can be completely hyperfocused on a task like going to search for his friends and making sure they're safe. He also does not take kindly to stress and stressful situations.

Il Dottore - Anti Social Personality Disorder (Sociopathy) Man shows absolutely no regard when it comes to right and wrong, and blatantly ignores the feelings of others that are impacted by him. That doesn't mean to say that he doesn't have feelings. He can emote just like anyone else, but these emotions are very external emotions such as happiness, sadness, anger, jealousy, and so on. But more internal emotions like sympathy, guilt, etc, are definitely not understood by him. He will lie to take advantage of others, resorts to violence should the need arise, as well as being entirely opinionated and having a strong sense of superiority over others.

Lumine - Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) It was already bad enough that she has lost her brother in a world where she understood very little, with only Paimon to be her guide, but now she is thrust into so many dangerous situations and no one seems to really ask her how she is feeling. Everyone hears tales of her adventures and her heroics, but they never understand truly how traumatised and frustrated she is that she has managed to do so much and learn so little about her brother's whereabouts. As much as she has made friends over her time within the realm of Teyvat, it's not the same without her brother. Often she finds herself distracting her head with what she can do to help people, just to try and drown out that feeling of worthlessness and hopelessness she feels because she is missing her brother.

Neuvillette - Rejection Sensitivity / Emotional Disregulation (RSD) While RSD may be more of a factor within ADHD, Neuvillette definitely doesn't have ADHD. As a Water Dragon Sovereign, there's not doubt that he tries his best to learn how humans work and think and do things. Offering to help with the people of Fontaine through the judiciary system, and seeing all the awful things people can do to one another, as well as to him, it would start to weigh on his shoulders. It's easy to point out the rejection sensitivity because it's the idea of feeling physical pain and suffering when one is rejected. When Neuvillette feels these great burdens and feelings, the rain comes. The only sign that he allows to show that he is mourning and grieving the people he is trying to help.

Pantalone - Narcissistic Personality Disorder Man has a very high opinion of himself, going so far as to control the majority of the money of Teyvat. He can become very aggressive and controlling when he doesn't get what he wants, going so far as to hurting or even unaliving people who have disappointed him. He has a very hard time controlling his own emotions which is why he forces himself to smile all the time so no one can see that he is perturbed or irritated by their actions until it is too late.

Tartaglia - Bipolar Personality Disorder (BPD) Childe seems to display quite varying symptoms of bipolar, having elated and manic episodes when it comes to his favourite thing (fighting), but also dipping into low and disinterested moods when something doesn't fit his fancy. He is usually very upbeat and likes to talk constantly with the Traveler or Zhongli, and also has an exaggerated state of self and his abilities. On the other hand, he has been seen to be disinterested and feeling a lack of pleasure in this he enjoys, mostly when he has not been satisfied by someone else. He also shows a lot of restlessness and often has times where he is unable to rest or sleep.

Tighnari - Possible Asperger's Syndrome Honestly so many people believe him to have an additive personality due to consuming shrooms on the daily, but this has not hindered him in any way. He does not believe he needs to consume shrooms on the daily basis for any sort of fix. He does it to help figure out ide effects and write them down in his handbooks so others are aware of what can be safe to eat and what should be avoided. If anything, guy may have some form of Asperger's, but there's not enough to confidently say yes.

Zhongli - Depression This man just wants a really long nap. He's been through a lot and wants nothing more than to be rid of it all. He does not have any thoughts of unaliving or harm to himself, but he has become severely reclusive and unbothered by thriving as an Archon anymore. His encounters during his story quests have pretty much shown that he no longer feels he has any purpose or meaning to remain in Liyue, and the only reason he would most likely stay is because he wants to see how humans will thrive without him. When he knows that they will be fine on their own, perhaps he will finally give himself the rest he feels he deserves.

#collective thoughts :: ᴼᴼᶜ #genshin impact muses #lets talk about mental health #they are just headcanons #i dont think of them as canon #take that as you will

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a-and-w-online-shopping · 1 year

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#mental health #mentalhealth #mentalhealthmatters #mental health matters #mentalhealthawareness #lets talk about mental health #custom tshirt #short sleeve tshirts #tshirts #mental health tshirts

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knifearo · 12 days

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this year my challenge for everyone is to unlearn the association between love and morality. love is not something that is inherently morally good, and the absence of love is not something that is inherently bad. sex without love isn't morally bankrupt, it's just an action. people without love aren't less kind or less good, they're just people. when we can get past this false (and often unnoticed) dichotomy of good love/evil lovelessness then i think we are going to be able to take leaps and bounds in sex positivity, aro advocacy, certain discussions of mental health...

#and also. not the direct focus. but love doesn't make things good. you can be in love and do terrible terrible things.#people do bad things in the name of love and in despite of love all the time.#but!! imagine a world where people could exist as people and not be demonized.#sex positivity means being cool about All sex. reexamine your internal systems of moral judgement.#this goes for sex workers. for aroallo people. especially aroallo men. for aro people in general who might enjoy sex.#and frankly i think it can easily bleed into discussions about mental health disorders around 'not feeling' certain things #especially demonizing ppl who don't feel as much empathy. i think there's definitely a correlation between that and the emphasis on love.#our support needs to go out to Everybody and i think these things are all structured together in one way or another!!#it might not be immediately obvious but when i tell you it all leads back to amatonormativity..... little bit wild.... large bit wild....#anyway. horror movie psychopath 'oh he can't feel emotions or love' damn alright. well. let's take a closer look at that.#silly that there's an association between lack of love and Murdering. feel like that might affect some stuff.#love is just an emotion/a feeling it doesn't mean anything about you one way or another #same with empathy. you can feel it all you want but it doesn't inherently change the actions you choose to take #anyway. thesis statement. there is a socially constructed link between love and morality. unlearn that.#kiss kiss (<— lovelessly)#aromantic #aromanticism #arospec #talking #aroace #aspec #sex positivity

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designamh · 2 years

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Let's talk about mental health

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uncanny-tranny · 1 year

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Anger is such a normal part of recovery, and I wish it were normalized. I think it is genuinely harmful to depict recovery as this era of your life that only sets you free and makes you euphoric, and there will never again be a cloud in the sky because you have Ultimately Healed.

It's the fucking opposite sometimes. Recovery can feel violent, because the things you are recovering from are often (though not always) violent. It is so common to feel white-hot rage, grief, catharsis, elation, numbness - in essence, a whole host of emotions that aren't pretty, or aren't simple little categories to be neatly boxed and sorted and understood by the "normals."

Those recovering: Your emotions are real, and they aren't bad. You aren't a bad person for how you are processing and healing. You, however, aren't alone. You are doing so fucking well, no matter what it is you are healing from or for. I genuinely hope you can be proud of that.

#mental health #mental health advocacy #recovery #the first time i actually *let* myself feel anger and rage was truly the point i felt free #because throughout my time trying to recover i was TERRIFIED and HORRIFIED that i could feel those Bad Emotions #and that rage hit me suddenly because i couldn't hold that anger in anymore #it's almost funny to me now though #me driving: 😀 || my brain: I Am So Fucking Irate About [recovery thing] I Never Deserved That || me: 🤬#i know for a fact that i have talked about this but i quite literally still need to talk about this

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beanghostprincess · 3 months

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There's just something so inherently beautiful about the way Luffy loves Sanji. Because his perception of Sanji, at the end of the day, is always "he's a good person". Plain. Simple. Easy like that. "You're just like that" is what Luffy tells him. He's just, basically, a kindhearted soul. And he could quite literally list all of his qualities, but he doesn't because he doesn't need to. Why would he do that when the best description for his cook is just saying he has a good heart? The way Luffy perceives Sanji is just so beautiful to me because, while Sanji sees himself as somebody unworthy of love and easily dispensable, Luffy sees him as the representation of kindness itself. For Luffy, food is the epitome of happiness and love. Hunger means wanting something. Eating means taking something you want. And food as a concept means being full. Hunger itself is a need your body asks for, and Luffy has never been shy about it and he takes and takes and enjoys himself until he's completely full. Sanji has been hungry his whole life but has never, not even once, thought about eating out of pleasure, but only need. His job is to cook and to serve and not to eat. And Luffy sees that as the most selfless act of kindness. To create and give food to the ones who need it and want it. Sanji makes others happy, and Luffy can't understand why he keeps depriving himself of the food (happiness) he makes. He does these things out of plain, simple kindness and without expecting anything in return, and Luffy sees that. Luffy sees Sanji's heart served on a silver platter because that's what Sanji offers him every time. And Luffy doesn't want Sanji's heart or selfless acts of kindness. He wants Sanji to be kind without harming himself in the process and actually take what he wants for once (eating). Luffy doesn't get why he keeps torturing himself and giving his everything to others when he could just share it. Sanji has so much frustration and rage and pain and sadness he won't let himself feel, and Luffy is quite literally the definition of "If you need to be mean, be mean to me" (from the song 'I don't smoke' by Mitski) and "If you gave me all the anger you can't swallow I would eat it gladly for you, just don't choke" (I just thought about this thing I'm such a poet).

#the lusan feelingssss #i am very sad editing wci #'why do you keep making lusan edits if they make you so sad' i like suffering and pain next question #i don't talk enough about lusan and it's probably one of my favorite ships #sometimes i wonder if i like zolu or lusan better and i remember i ship the three of them together + usopp and i smile #also this whole thing is a metaphor for eds and i think it's obvious but yeah let me project my mental health on sanji #one piece #black leg sanji #monkey d. luffy #lusan #sanlu

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mediumgayitalian · 2 months

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At around half past one, Nico gets a Feeling.

He gets feelings a lot. Nothing he can quantify, just something telling him that something is up, somethings wrong. Or something’s about to be. At this point, he’s learned to trust his intuition, based purely on the number of times it has saved his life; a number he’s long since given up counting. (He’s only ignored his gut feelings three times in his life: when Bianca went on her quest, when his father promised not to hurt Percy before the Titan War, and when he went looking for the Doors. He has learned his lesson.)

So when something at the bottom of his stomach tells him to get up, to check things out — he does.

He knows it could be nothing. (The last time he had a Feeling, it turned out that he had placed a book precariously on the edge of his desk, and it had been about to fall. Not exactly world-saving stuff.) But regardless, he steps out of bed, shoves his feet into his shoes, and creeps out of his cabin.

Camp is kind of beautiful at night.

There’s an eerie calmness to it without so many human disasters running about, and the quiet reflects that. All Nico can really hear is the hooting of owls in the distance, the chittering of nocturnal animals and monsters alike, the distant screeches of curfew harpies, and the pleasant crashing of the waves. The air is clean, when he inhales, and he takes the time to hold it in his lungs for a bit, imagining the sweet breath is healing his burned lungs, turning the scar tissue back to something flexible and normal. Whether or not it actually works, he doesn’t know, but it feels nice.

Under the light of the brightly shining new moon and billions of stars, he starts his patrol. Around his own cabin first — there’s nothing, as he expected, the warning doesn’t seem overwhelming like threats tend to be — and then he makes his way around the circuit, checking behind gardens and shrines and inside braziers. He hums quietly as he walks, something preppy and bright the Apollo kids have been hollering for days, and waves to Lady Hestia, sword heavy at his waist.

“Come sit,” she calls, patting the seat next to her.

Nico does.

“Haven’t seen you out at night in a while.”

He hums, toneless this time, leaning back on his hands and mirroring her gaze at the sky.

“Been sleeping, for once.”

“I’m glad.”

He smiles, knowing that she means it. He watches out of the corner of his eye as she picks up his sword, sliding it from his belt loop, and uses it to stoke the flames. She doesn’t seem afraid of it, or wary. To her it’s just a stick of metal. It’s nice.

“You have you been, my Lady?”

She pokes at the embers a few more times, scooping a few to balance at the tip of the blade for a while. It glows with the heat, and he knows he’ll have to sharpen it tomorrow, but he doesn’t mind. Maybe he can do it while Will is in the archery range. It’ll give him an excuse to be at the armoury at the same time, anyway.

“I’ve been well.” She breathes deeply, small smile pulling at her face. “It’s calmer, and more people wave to me. I like it.”

“Good.”

She dismisses him a few minutes later, sending him off with a promise to chat again soon. She doesn’t need to worry about him promising — he makes a point to sit with her at least once a week — but it’s nice to know someone wants his company, so he appreciates it. He leaves with a wave, walking towards the eastern half of the cabins.

Nothing’s amiss. He can hear campers snoring, and see the odd reading light. Malcolm catches his eye as he walks past the Athena cabin and winks, sending a cheeky salute when he sees the sword held loosely in his hands. So far, everything seems fine. He’s beginning to think the Feeling might have simply been about Lady Hestia, so he decides to do one last check around the Big House and then head back.

Of course, that’s where the issue is.

The infirmary lights are always on. They’re dimmer in the night, more of a glow than anything, but there’s an extra brightness streaming out from the windows, and when Nico peeks inside, he sees Will, standing with his back turned at the nurse’s station.

He takes a moment to check his strength, making sure he has the energy for it — dinner last night was pho and he had three bowls, he most definitely does — and sinks into the shadows by the door. He materializes back in the little alcove by the bandage & wraps cabinet, lurking silently while he blinks the dizziness away.

The first thing he registers is soft singing.

He’s facing Will, now, and can see the glow coming from his hands, enveloping a bowl of some kind. He has both hands coated in some dusky pink substance, massaging and gently pounding it against the sides of the bowl, working it through with great care. As his voice gets higher, the glow gets brighter, fading as he dips lower. He sings something about hills and meadows and the breeze, about wing-song, about the sound of flower stems bending in the wind. For a while Nico stands, listening to the melodious ancient Greek, swaying with every pitch and hold. It’s captivating.

Will is almost haunting when he heals.

There’s a divinity in him — in all of them — but he glows when he sings. Not just his hands, and sometimes his head if he puts enough power in his words, but there’s an almost shimmer to the air around him, a shining warp. His skin gets clearer, and his hair goes more metallic, almost, like spun gold rather than blonde. His freckles make his skin into an inverse replica of the night sky, dark specks surrounded by bright empty between them. His long fingers pluck through bright strands of light like a harpist strums their chords; lightly, carefully, skillfully; like a braider weaves their hair. There’s an undeniable age to his magic, a practice that’s visibly replicated millions of times over thousands of years, as if every healer who has come before him links their arms with his, breathes their strength in his lungs. Sometimes, when he does something truly unbelievable, amazingly beyond reason, he flickers — his orange camp shirt fades into a white chiton, or long robes, or a white coat, or a blue tunic. Watching him heal is like watching the sunrise — breathtaking and unique, every time, but powerful in its cyclic archaism.

It takes Nico a long time to realise Will is swaying.

Snapped out of his trance, he begins to notice Will’s long, slow blinks, the unsteady way he stands, the weight he has leaned on the counter. Even his face looks plainly exhausted under the glow, face pillow-creased and eyes bruised, hair mussed, limbs leaden. Footsteps as silent as he can manage, Nico creeps over to the schedule posted by the door, scanning through the scrawled pen ink.

He curses quietly. Will is not supposed to be awake.

There are really only three people who can work the infirmary to its fully capacity, barring Chiron. Kayla, Austin, and Will are the only ones who can magically heal, as much as the volunteers are imperative, so when the camp is in full swing one of them must be stationed at all times. That’s how Will sets it up. A bit of a waste of time, he acknowledges, but Nico knows he has memorized every time a camper who should have been saved. He carries far too much guilt to ever let it happen again, as inconvenient as his rules may be.

Night shift, though, is a need-be basis. If the infirmary is as empty as it is right now, then there truly is no need to keep one of the three of them awake outside their circadian rhythm, staring at nothing. Instead, they take shifts in the on-call room — asleep, but prepared should anything go wrong, should a monster chase a new camper at an odd hour. It’s Will’s turn for on-call. It’s two in the morning. He should be asleep.

And, yet.

Nico recognizes the look in his eyes. There’s a — frailty, to them, a deep-seated, animalistic fear, one he recognises from the hours after his own night terrors. A single-minded panic that cannot be unseated in any logical way, cannot be comforted with any gentle hands.

Nico handles his fear with slashing swords and bruised knuckles. Will, he knows, handles his fear with obsessive, endless preparation.

Knowing full well nothing is going to drag him away from his focus bar actual cardiac arrest, Nico walks right by him. Will doesn’t move. He settles behind him in the old, creaky leather office chair, curling his legs under him and resting his head on the soft arm. He watches Will, watches the almost machine-like movement to his kneading arms, and falls back asleep to his humming.

———

“…Nico?”

He wakes up warm and a little cramped, in the same position he fell asleep. Sun is streaming on from the many issues, blocked from burning his eyes by Will’s hunched frame, facing towards him now, hands and shoulders shaking with equal violence.

“What time is it?”

His voice is croaky and wrecked from hours of singing. Nico is willing to bet his throat is burned as badly as his hands, cooked from non-stop, sun-borne glowing. The divinity that had emanated from him before has abandoned him and he looks young, lost.

“Early,” Nico says softly. He unfolds himself from the chair, stretching slightly — gods, he is going to ache today — and wraps a slow, careful hand around Will’s wrists. “Probably around six, if I have to guess.”

“I don’t remember waking up.”

“That’s okay.”

“I’m tired.”

“That’s okay.”

His breathing is heavy, laboured.

“I don’t —”

Nico squeezes gently. “It’s okay, Will.”

Will swallows and says nothing.

“Come on.”

Carefully, letting Will’s stiff joints set the pace, Nico guides him out of the infirmary. The sun shines brighter as soon as he steps outside, but he doesn’t seem to notice bar a tiny, almost imperceptible flinch at the change in lighting. Nico switches from holding his wrists to laying a hand on the small of his back, half-worried he’s going to fall over.

Luckily, he makes it to the Apollo Cabin upright, although the stairs take them a while. The hinges of the old screen door creak as Nico pushes it open, and he sees both Kayla and Austin, up and dressed, jump.

“…Will?” Kayla asks softly, eyebrows creased in concern. She walks over to him when he doesn’t answer, frozen still, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “You okay?”

Will leans — almost hesitantly — into the touch. The same blankness from before clouds his eyes, although this time there’s less of the fear.

“Hey.” Nico walks over to stand in front of him, waiting patiently for him to meet his eyes. In the minutes it takes, he hears Austin pad over, standing opposite to Kayla, hands clenching and unclenching like he can’t decide what to do with them. “You think you can sleep?”

Will doesn’t answer verbally, but drifts after a moment to his bed. Nico follows, helping him out of his shoes and shirt. After a beat of hesitation, Austin hurries over, turning down Will’s sheets and helping him crawl in. Soft guitar music begins to play, and when Nico looks over Kayla is fiddling with the CD player, turning the dials carefully. Without much fanfare, Will’s eyes flutter closed, and his breathing slows to something deep and even. His twitching fingers still.

“I don’t think today’s an activity day,” Nico murmurs. “I checked up on him a while after midnight; he’d been at it for hours. He didn’t stop ‘til sunrise.”

Kayla rubs harshly at her eyes. “Fuck.”

“He’ll be okay,” Austin whispers. He runs a gentle knuckle over Will’s forehead, then turns his careful, imploring gaze to Nico. “You kept an eye on him?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you.”

Nico inclines his head. “Had a feeling.”

“I don’t know what to do,” Kayla admits. “He was —” She trails off, staring at something in the left half of the cabin — the empty half. “He was like this after the Titan War, too. I think he spoke maybe two words for the entirety of September.”

Nico almost can’t imagine it. The very thought of it makes something twinge in his chest, clench in his stomach.

“We’ll figure it out.” He nods, to convince himself as much as Kayla and Austin, who look to him with way more trust than he deserves. “We won’t let it — it won’t get that bad. We’ll help, and if we can’t figure it out we’ll get help. It won’t be as hard as last time.”

It won’t be as hard as last time because there won’t be twelve shrouds, Nico doesn’t say, but he doesn’t need to. Both Kayla and Austin nod, looking at their sleeping brother with firm resolution.

“This time, we’ll be there.”

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