#I NEED A GENDER THERAPIST WORSE THAN ANYTHING | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

spacelazarwolf · 10 months

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I really hate how often neo ra/df/ems will go on and on about how trans fem's transitions are waaaaaay more difficult and they're waaaaaay less likely to pass, but if a trans masc dared to make any similar comparisons, they'd be fucking crucified.

There are a lot of feelings I have around sex-based discrimination and the difficulties of a masculinizing transition. On one hand, I don't think comparing struggles like that is useful (i.e. trans women have harder transitions).

On the other hand, I feel like the reality of the situation is actually quite the opposite for many people (everyone acknowledges that testosterone makes your voice drop and you grow hair, but nobody seems to want to acknowledge hysterectomy vs orchi, voice training is still often needed, electrolysis for phallo, the fact that bottom surgery is usually multi-staged [even metoidioplasty is sometimes 2 stages] with a lot of moving parts and far worse scarring, top surgery is almost a necessity for passing whereas not every trans fem wants top surgery + scars are easier to hide, face masculinization is far less common w/ fewer options, puberty begins earlier in perisex people AFAB and puberty blockers don't always allow for full height to be achieved bc they don't typically allow you to start testosterone until you're about 15 even IF you were a "classic" trans-since-3-years-old kinda case, the extreme body horror that is accidental pregnancy and abortion and menstruation when that's dysphoric vs not being able to carry a pregnancy just feels like an insulting comparison sometimes and I've had multiple trans women call me inconsiderate for expressing horror at getting my bodily rights taken away bc "that triggers my dysphoria", testosterone is a scheduled substance and has more difficult administration methods than simply a pill, etc.)

And so I bite my tongue and try to be the better person, because stooping to that low doesn't help anything. But at the same time it's so extremely frustrating to be told that you "have it better" when, considering the facts, it REALLY feels like the opposite. There's this level of bitterness around that that I am DESPERATELY trying to resolve within myself. I have a therapist. I know it's projection. I'm working on my own bullshit. But please tell me I'm not alone in feeling this way? I just wish they'd stop with that rhetoric and realize just how difficult the average trans masc transition truly is

yeah it's really frustrating for ppl to present Trans Women's Experiences and Trans Men's Experiences as diametrically opposed, with one experience being Eternal Pain And Inescapable Suffering and the other being Barely A Blip On The Life Radar. and while i understand it's coming from a place of pain, i've also experienced a lot of trans women shutting me down when i try to talk about how abortion rights affect me. back when i was first dipping my toe into trans spaces, i was friends with a trans woman who told me it was transmisogynistic of me to want to transition because "trans women would kill to have been born in your body." and while it absolutely comes from a different place than when cis men try to assert control over me and there's not the same power dynamic, it's still a complete stranger feeling entitled to tell me what to do with my body because of the sex i was assigned at birth. it's frustrating to have people i'm supposed to be in community with play into the same sexist bullshit that other people, regardless of gender, have been holding over my head my whole life, feeling like they own my body bc women and ppl who are forcibly assigned the role of women in society are seen as public property. our bodies aren't our own. everyone feels entitled to comment on them and touch them and make decisions about them. and it sucks when it comes from other people who should understand how that feels.

and like. obviously this idea that trans men's transition is so much easier than trans women's is unhelpful bc 1. there is no one particular way for trans men to transition, 2. not everyone who transitions in the way typically associated with trans men is a trans man, 3. it doesn't take into account how disability, race, ethnicity, etc. play into people's experiences before, during, and after transition, and 4. it's just not a fucking competition????? the fact that a disabled black trans man is going to be more systemically oppressed in society than a wealthy white trans woman doesn't mean trans men as a category are Objectively More Oppressed than trans women. bc gender is like. the worst possible way to try to gauge a group's place within the system. bc at this point, gender is not the most powerful system, race is. and i feel like a fuck ton of people really do not recognize that.

another thing that has bugged me for as long as i've been in trans spaces is this bizarre attitude that trans women are doomed to this miserable life of clockability and will never be able to pass as cis women thus they must accept that their life will be nothing but pain and suffering. and that's just very much not true! i know plenty of trans women who "pass" or who are happy with their bodies, who have jobs they love and friends and family who love them, who have a community that supports and celebrates them. and it has just always rubbed me the wrong way that people think they're helping trans women by presenting their existence as Inevitably Miserable when all it does is terrify closeted trans girls who think they're better off never coming out or transitioning, or better off dying. like. we have to understand that these narratives we create, the idea of the perpetually suffering trans woman and the lonely isolated trans man, are absolutely driving people to suicidal ideation. and if we give a shit about trans people, we should be changing these narratives.

#ask avishai #atm

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lykaios2 · 9 months

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You don’t have to do this, this is just me asking, but do you think you could do a yonder ROTTMNT brothers x autistic reader? (separate of course)

my good [insert gender neutral term used to reference a person here], if you put something into my inbox I am going to write it

anyway uh little disclaimer: I may be self diagnosed with autism but by no means does that make me an expert, people's experiences are different and I don't mean to stick stereotypes on people

anyways hope you enjoy! ❤️

Leo:

-Leo thinks you’re adorable

-All of your little stims and fidget toys

-But a lot of his romantic gestures seem to be off the table

-He loves looking into your eyes, but he doesn’t like it when you don’t look into his

-He’ll turn your face towards his so he can see your beautiful eyes

-Sometimes you’ll tear up because you’re uncomfortable from the long period of eye contact

-But he only thinks it makes your eyes more beautiful

-He is also very fond of picking you up out of nowhere

-While he knows you don’t like being scared like that, it’s the only way other than holding hands that he can be close to you

-(But sometimes he’ll break into your home at night and cuddle with you while you sleep)

Raph:

-Raph loves taking care of youHe knows very well that you need some extra help sometimes

-And he’s very glad that he’s the one that can give it to you

-His favorite thing is giving you bear hugs to help with your sensory issues

-In that moment, you’re safe in his arms, and he’s the only one you’ll ever need

-But he doesn’t like when other people help you

-He’s supposed to be your one and only savior

-The only one who knows what you need, that can help you

-One time you asked if you could go see a therapist to help with your anxiety, and he got very upset

-“Why would you need to go see anyone else? I’m all you’ll ever need, babe…no one else knows you like I do. They can’t help you like I can. You don’t need to see a therapist.”

-He said in such a loving tone that you were even convinced he was right…

Mikey:

-Mikey puts you first

-He knows everything that you need

-He is so eager to help you, in fact, that sometimes he goes a little overboard

-Every day he gives you a new fidget toy to use

-And he gets very sad if you reject his offer

-(Even though you already have hundreds)

-He tends to treat you like a kid

-Asking how your day’s been, if you need anything

-He cooks you food, drives you everywhere, puts you to bed

-It gets a little annoying sometimes, being treated like that

-But if anyone were to even lay a finger on you, he goes full defensive mode

-God forbid anyone insult you

Donnie:

-As someone who also has autism, he understands your needs

-But he still gets a little frustrated sometimes

-He wants to love you, but you make it a little hard sometimes

-His unexpected hugs from behind often make you jump, which he doesn’t like

-Your need to be alone more often than usual makes him mad

-Whenever you’re stressed or anxious, he tries to calm you down with hugs and kisses, which only makes it worse

-He has fidget toys on hand for you, because he knows those will always calm you down

-He gets mad whenever he has to use them, though

-He doesn’t like that something else has your attention more

-He also doesn’t understand why his love won't calm you down

-Your love and affection will calm him down, so why doesn’t it work the other way around?

-And sure, you may have autism, but so does he

-So why can he be the only “normal” one in the relationship?

#lykaios writes #rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #tmnt 2018 #teenage mutant ninja turtles #donnie rottmnt #rottmnt mikey #rottmnt leo #raph rottmnt #yandere raph #yandere leonardo #yandere mikey #yandere donatello #rottmnt x y/n #rottmnt x reader

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pineapplerightsideupcake · 6 months

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how do you as a bisexual come to terms with the fact that the trans community has literally made homophobia much worse. ppl are proudly being openly homophobic and when you dig deeper it’s actually the “queers” and transgenders who think kids can transition who they have a problem with (not all of course but a good chunk) I believe ppl who wouldn’t otherwise be homophobic are being homophobic bc of the trans community. I use to really struggle w internalized homophobia, and still do, it was only this past year where I came to terms w it and told my sister/close friends. I wish it could be just a normal thing to be gay and you’d be left alone, I believe we were on a trajectory for that. But now things have gotten worse, and thanks to the gender nonsense, openly bigoted ppl (especially religious) are being praised and promoted. All this bc of trans activism. I don’t even care anymore about what they do to themselves, but the damage they’ve done to actual gay ppl is insane and we’re already facing the backlash. I’m not sure if we’ll ever live in a world where being lgb isn’t a big deal.

Honestly? I think the benefit of pushing 40 is that I have a wider lens through which to view activism. And I feel the same way about LGB rights as I do about women’s rights.

Which is to say, every time a big gain is won, there is backlash. There are parts of society that get worse as the culture tries desperately to adjust around the new changes.

Men today are more porn sick and sexually aggressive than 20 years ago. In some ways. People are polling less positively about the LGTBQI+ but how much of that backlash is really directed at the LGB? Are polling groups even bothering to distinguish between LGB and “queer” people?

Let me tell you what life was like as a bisexual teen in 2003. Let’s go back 20 years and I can tell you the world has changed so much for the better. 20 years ago gay rights activists started really making headway towards civil rights guarantees. Suddenly middle Americans had to confront that gay people were among them and not just haunting bars and bathhouses. I don’t think I’ve ever seen such rigid gender norm adherence as I did back then. Men couldn’t wear pastels or purple or pink. Guys got called gay for having a messenger bag. There is an entire episode of “Friends” about it. Sussing out the Gays Among Us became obsessive. Emo culture was a direct response to how frantic straight people were to appear duly heterosexual. TV shows still depicted us as degenerate freaks if they depicted us at all. A few HBO shows that were soft core porn more than anything and Will and Grace was all anybody had. Shows like Xena and Buffy got away with lesbians because men said out loud that hot women kissing was fine. These were the early days of straight men having open lesbian fetishizes. We couldn’t get married. We could get fired for being gay.

For women there was no movement to normalize our natural bodies. I’d spend hours shaving myself smooth. Not wearing makeup was unheard of. Cellulite wasn’t even a word I knew let alone knew was normal. There weren’t a million online resources teaching women that vaginal discharge is normal and I grew up thinking (as did many others) that it was a private shame.

And as far as MeToo stuff? It’s easy to feel defeated in the moment but nobody was using the word ‘consent’ in my day. Men getting women drunk was a joke. Men pushing for sex was a joke. Men calling a woman that had one too many dates or boyfriends a slut was normal. Three of my male friends pinned me down on several occasions and took turns rubbing their dicks on me to completion.

The therapist I told said I “needed to work on my boundaries”. The word rape never even entered my mind. Rape was something a stranger with a knife did. It wasn’t something your best friends did to you and then laughed about. It isn’t something you submitted to because fawn and freeze are real fear responses. No one told me my friend forcing my hand down his pants was abuse because I continued to go over his house, didn’t I? No one told me about red flags or cycles of abuse.

And the older women you told rolled their eyes. What I endured was so mild compared to many other women. Men forcing themselves onto women was just normal.

I can’t tell you what it means to me to see so many young women calling it out. Refusing to stay in a bad situation. Refusing to date entirely sometimes. Women sharing red flags and advice to stay not just safe but thriving.

Don’t get me wrong- the current gender movement is regressive and dangerous. I’m not saying it’ll all work itself out. Activism is constant work but things ARE getting better. They really are, even if sometimes it doesn’t feel like it. 💜

#radical feminism #radical feminist safe #radical feminist community #radical feminists do interact #radical feminists do touch #radblr #radical feminists please interact #radical feminists please touch

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bonezone44 · 9 months

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‘Stages of Grief’

Word Count: 1968

Joel x Reader

image credit

Summary: After a tense interaction with a family member who raised you when you were little, you spiral. Joel talks you through it.

Tags: Reader gender unspecified, angst, grief, familial neglect, childhood emotional/physical abuse

a/n: Read if your family sucks. Read if you like crying. Read if you’re crying-curious. But also keep in mind that I’m a random person on the internet who writes fanfiction. Not a therapist.

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‘It’s not fucking fair,’ you tell yourself. The pain shooting through your body in a way that feels unending.

How can an emotion feel so much worse than anything else?

How can a thought trigger a full body nuclear meltdown? How can it send you burning and twisting and writhing and regressing into the small child you once were?

Years have passed since you were a little kid, being tugged around and shoved from place to place, trailing behind the adults in your life. All your curiosities being ignored. Your questions going unanswered. Your needs being shoved aside so they could do whatever the hell they thought was so much more important than you. Their child. Their responsibility.

But what about you? What about your needs and desires? What about all the shit that you wanted to do?

You still remember staring up at the glowing carousel–the colorful, twinkling lights mirroring the stars in the night sky. The beautifully painted horses gliding up and down to a fun, jaunty tune playing loudly from some hidden location within. Your eyes sparkled with majesty and wonder. And you remember how the whole place smelled like popcorn–rich and buttery. The memory always made you hungry when you thought about it.

“I wanna go on that next!” you pointed and shouted with hope and excitement.

You heard an angry scoff. “We’re not going on a fucking kiddie ride.”

“But I wanna go!” you stomped.

They turned around and got in your face. “Well too fucking bad!” They yanked your arm, tugging you through the crowd. Other adults. Other kids. Other people with cotton candy and stuffed animals and new light-up toys and big smiling faces.

You started crying. It felt like your whole world was shattering. “But I wanna go!” You kicked and screamed. You wanted to have fun. You wanted what you wanted.

They shoved you into a corner and got into your face again. This time it was accompanied by their finger and a suffocating cloud of anger. “I don’t give a shit about what you want. Now shut the fuck up and don’t fucking embarrass me.” They whispered fiercely.

“But–”

They slapped you hard across the face.

It stung. Badly. You felt dizzy.

But it got you quiet.

“Now I’m gonna go down there and hang out with my friends–” they said, pointing down the dim, smelly alley behind the stalls. You saw two men in dirty aprons, sitting on buckets and smoking cigarettes with greasy fingers. “--and you’re gonna shut the fuck up.”

You pouted and sniffled, but had no choice in the matter. They were your adult. You had to go wherever they went. There were no other options.

And now you’re older and wiser, but anytime you’re with them or think about them or meet someone who reminds you of them–it sends you into a spiral. As if they still have their hand wrapped around your arm and you’re still begging them to let you get your way.

“You gotta talk to me, darlin’,” says Joel.

You can’t even see him. You know he’s in the room but your head is a thunderstorm and it’s raining out your eyes. “They do this. They do this every fucking time!” You choke out through sobs. “They can’t be happy for me. They can’t let me have anything!” The last word comes out with a stomp. You clench your fists and dig your nails into your palm. The pain is sharp and you shake your head, burrowing into it. “They never give me anything!” Never give you their attention, their love, their respect. It didn’t matter if you still lived in their house or not–they still saw you as a burden. “It doesn’t matter what I say or-or-or how I say it. They just refuse to fucking hear me!” They wouldn’t even listen when you spoke. “I have tried everything and nothing works.” You wipe your eyes, attempting to compose yourself.

“Then why do you keep tryin?” he asks.

You stare at him dumbly. “‘Cause they’re supposed to! They’re supposed to-to-to–” You break down harder. You can barely say the words in your own mind, but somehow they come out your lips. “They’re supposed to love me!” Your anger recedes, replaced with pain. Pure heart-stinging pain. You rub your chest with your palm. “They’re supposed to love me, Joel.” Your head falls back, your eyes on the ceiling. You can feel the muscles straining in your neck. “But they don’t!” Your mouth is wide and grimacing as you cry. “I can’t even get them to care about me!”

“Then why do you keep tryin?”

“‘Cause they’re supposed to,” you pout. Your brow is tight and you can feel yourself getting a headache.

“But they don’t.”

Hearing those words from Joel–it knocks a part of you back into place. Like you had spread out into a puddle of tears and he’s scooping you back together. You’re still hurting, though. You’re still crying.

“So why do you keep tryin’?” he asks again. “When you know they don’t care?”

“Because… because I want them to. I want them to care about me. I want them to know me. It’s not fair that-that-that I’m living this whole life without them and they just… they don’t even make an effort.”

“So stop tryin’.” He shrugs. His arms are crossed against his chest. “Stop givin them the effort that they won’t give you.”

“But I have to–”

“No,” Joel says firmly. “No, you don’t.”

“But–” you’re not giving in. You refuse. Your leg is shaking. You wanna beg him. Plead him. “But they’re my family.”

Families are supposed to love each other. Share stories. Call on the weekends. They’re supposed to learn and heal together. They’re supposed to be interested in one another’s dreams and struggles and achievements. They’re supposed to be lifelong companions. And when you’re an adult–they’re supposed to make the effort to heal whatever wrongs occurred during your childhood.

“I can’t just… leave ‘em, you know?” Your lips are trembling as you try to get the words out. “I can’t just give up on them.”

“Yeah–” Joel’s eyes are wide and serious. “Yeah, you can.”

“But–”

“You don’t owe them shit, darlin’,” he says. “It don’t matter if they fuckin’ raised you.” He shrugs. “It don’t matter how much money they spent on you or the time they took outta their shitty little lives to take you to school or soccer practice or to fuckin’ feed you.” He steps closer to you. “If you feel like shit every time you talk to them or try to… reach out–then stop.” He shrugs his shoulders again. “They coulda gifted ya a million fuckin dollars and it still wouldn’t make a difference.” He stares right into your eyes. “You don’t owe them anything.”

Your sobbing has ceased, though your cheeks are still wet. “Then what am I supposed to do?” you ask. What are you supposed to do with this piece of you? This solid chunk of yourself that sits in your gut. What is it supposed to do if it’s not desperate and yearning for your family’s attention and approval and support?

“Nothin’.”

“...What?”

“You don’t have to do anything,” he says while shaking his head.

“But…” But that didn’t make sense. You were always doing something. You were always seeking and reaching and tugging and pulling and grasping for them. You were always begging and pleading and crying and aching and needingneedingneeding them.

“But…” And you could feel yourself releasing–like the odd burst of blood flow you got after unclenching your fists. When you had been holding onto something so tightly for so long that you stopped even feeling your own hand anymore. Didn’t know you had fingers. The only thing you noticed at the end of your arm was a strange sensation.

And when you finally let go, unpeeling your fingers, your joints moved unfamiliarly and uncomfortably. Your muscles trembled and shook–feeling weak. Your fingers were warm and tingly and pulsed. It made you think of a balloon popping–without the sharp sound. It was dull and matted and flat, but also exploding and alive and free.

“I don’t have to do … anything?” you asked. Because how the hell was that possible? Because once again, you were always doing something. Always feeling some sort of way.

“All you gotta do is live your life and do what you wanna do. In whatever way you can.” He shrugs. “If they show up, they show up.” He holds his palm out. “But you don’t owe them anything if they do. Even if they try to tell you that you owe ‘em.” He shakes his head. “You don’t.” He puts his hand on your shoulder. “Nobody asks to be born, darlin’. But that don’t give them permission to treat you like shit for it. And you don’t owe them for doin’ the bare minimum to keep you alive.”

“So I can just… do whatever I want?” The tears return and you’re not sure why. There’s still pain inside you, stored deep in your muscles. But the twisting ache in your gut isn’t as strong as it was before. You feel lighter. Lighter than you ever have in your whole life, you think.

“You can do whatever you want.”

You start crying again, in a mix of confusion and hurt and relief. But you’re nodding. You’re agreeing with Joel. God, you can’t imagine what you must look like right now. Probably covered in snot, swollen eyes and lips. You just cried like a little baby and he watched you and talked you through the whole thing. You feel so silly and stupid and–grateful. You feel so grateful for Joel.

“Thank you,” you say after swallowing back tears. “Thank you for loving me,” you choke out and you reach out to hug him and his big arms wrap all the way around you.

“Of course, darlin’” he whispers and kisses your head. His hands rub up and down your back as you sway into each other. “Of course.”

Once the tears fully stop, and you can think of your family without immediately falling apart, you sigh and let go of Joel.

His big hands cradle your face and he kisses you on the forehead. “Gonna get you some water,” he says and leaves the room.

You know this won’t be the last time you do this–grieve your family. But it’s a start. It’s a baseline. It’s a feeling you know you can seek out again when the next spiral hits. And then the next spiral. And the next.

But it will take less time in the future when you know the destination–when you can recognize the end of the journey. And even if Joel isn’t around for those, he was around for this one. The first one and worst one. And he didn’t judge you or silence you or push you away for having your feelings or expressing yourself. He didn’t treat you like a burden or toss you aside for being you and dealing with your shit.

And he didn’t try to replace your family. He didn’t try to become the new target of your yearning and desire and need for approval. Because he knows he can’t be that for you. He can’t be your new family–your new lifelong companion. Only you can. Only you know your own thoughts and desires and ambitions and dreams. Only you can be there inside your head at every waking moment and every sleepy night. And when that solid chunk inside of your gut starts to spread, grasping like ivy for something outside of you to fix you or approve you–you have to scoop it back in and tell it, “No. I don’t have to do anything. I can do whatever I want.”

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a/n: I'm currently enjoying my ride on the 'Joel x Reader x Healing' train. Most of my fic titles end with "(18+)" and I was tempted to put "(Fun for All Ages)" on this one 😂

#joel miller x reader #grief

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thetriplets3 · 10 months

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happier than ever

tw: depression, panic attacks, alludes to suicidal thoughts, antidepressants

female pronouns are used. if you’d like me to start writing my fics in gender neutral pronouns let me know!!

When you spend years on end in an endless dark tunnel just walking and walking towards a light that seems impossible to reach, you get used to it and slowly finding that light seems pointless. It was like a routine, everyday was the same, black and white, bleak, lifeless there was no sign of hope.

When you’re in the dark for so long you adjust to it. That’s just how things are now, dark, you learn how to work your way through this dark tunnel. It takes a long time to truly realize how bad things are and even longer to see that it doesn’t have to be that way. Seeing a therapist was the first step and arguably the hardest, having to admit out loud you’re not okay and admitting you need help.

You’ve been by my side since the 6th grade. You’ve seen me at my worst and my best (which is not much better than my worst). You know me inside out, I’d go as far to say you understand me more than I understand myself. That’s why you’re the best boyfriend. The countless nights I’d call you needing to hear your voice to distract me from the panic attack I gave myself from crying, to stop me from letting my thoughts consume me. I couldn’t shake the feeling of guilt for putting all my heavy problems on you but you made sure to drill it in my head that you’d be there for me, no matter what.

You were a light in my life. Supporting me through everything and doing your best to help me get through this. When I told you about therapy you were so proud of me, knowing how hesitant I was to have to spill all my deepest and darkest parts of me. I told you somethings but never in detail, just vague explanations. After my first day of therapy, I came home to find you waiting on the bench on my porch with my favorite flowers. I scurry over to you, engulfing you in a big hug. My red, tear stained face showing how therapy went. You pull away from the hug and cup my puffy face in your warm hands.

“These are for you. I know how hard today was for you but you did it and I’m so proud of you. I know it might feel like it’s only making things worse but when you say all these bad things aloud they’re not apart of you, they’re in the open, slowly detaching themselves freeing up space in your being for things that are good for your soul. It’ll all be worth it, I promise you love” you reassure me, placing a gentle and loving kiss on my lips.

Slowly things started improving. Things were still in black and white but I have techniques to use when things get bad. I made a list l of things to self soothe, an item for each of the senses whether it be a comfort movie, your favorite music, the sweet smell of a candle, sour candy or a warm shower, it’ll help your mind to shift to a more positive stimulus. TIPP has been really helpful to me as well. Temperature, Intense exercise, Paced breathing, and Progressive muscle relaxation.

With the suggestion from the therapist, I started antidepressants. Not having high expectations for it to do anything, it was like a light switch went off, color started returning to things so vividly, smiling become natural to me, I could finally see all the doors in that dark tunnel. I no longer feel temporary happiness it’s constant now. The smallest things I never noticed before bring a smile to my face. It’s like I’m experiencing life for a second time. I was in awe of life. I feel at peace with myself no longer feeling like I’m at war with my thoughts. I was too blinded by my thoughts that I didn’t realize how much joy there is in simply just being.

Now that life feels less doom and gloom I wanted to spend time around the people I love without feeling like they needed to keep an eye on me, fearing that I’d do something. You and your brothers had planned a trip to the mountains for a little break after being on the go for work. You had invited me know how much I love the mountains and how peaceful I feel near them. I haven’t shared much about my healing process with you, fearing that if I say it aloud it’ll disappear. I wanted to make sure this feeling was permanent.

matt’s pov:

Pulling up to your house I smiled to myself seeing you all packed and ready to leave on your porch. Wasting no time you ran towards my side of the car. I step out of the car pulling you in for a hug.

“Get in the car I’ll put your stuff in the trunk. You get passenger seat, make sure to thank Chris he’s bitter about it” I say placing a kiss on your cheek.

I love seeing you excited like this it’s been a rare thing over the past few years. Heading off to the rental I can feel the excitement and happiness radiating off of you. I don’t know what’s causing this but I love it. I love seeing you happy. I barely was able to park the car before you were jumping out the door and running up to the cabin with Chris following close behind, like 2 children on christmas morning. By the time Nick and I got everything out of the car you had explored the whole cabin, eager for me to hurry up and join you.

We spent the first night just taking it easy and staying in. Nick and Chris have made themselves comfortable in the living room watching a movie. I had gone to get drinks for us when I turn around to find you no longer in the living room.

“Where’d she go? She was here like 10 seconds ago” I asked my brothers.

“Why am I supposed to keep track of your girlfriend? I don’t know where she is but she’s like a freaking quokka all of the sudden” Nick say not looking away from the tv.

Rolling my eyes at how unhelpful he is, I start looking around the cabin. It didn’t take me long to find you curled up on the little couch on the back porch. Hearing the door shut your attention shifts from staring off into space to my presence.

“Hi sweet girl, I had a feeling you’d be out here” I say making my way over to sit next to you. “What’s on your mind?” I question, pulling into my side draping your legs over my lap.

“Nothing really I’m just happy to be here with you guys. This place makes me happy. I’d love to move here one day” you say softly.

I let out a small hum in agreement. A comforting silence falls over us.

“You don’t have to tell me anything, I just want to say you look happier, like at peace with life. I can see the sparkle in your eyes, haven’t seen that in a while I missed it. I’ve noticed how in awe you are of everything, it’s special to see you find yourself again. You’re truly glowing the way you carry yourself you just exude happiness. You walk in a room and it immediately gets brighter. It’s not just me who’s noticed, Nick called you a quokka because you’ve of how happy and energetic you are”

“A quokka? I can’t tell if he meant that as an insult but I’m taking it as a compliment. I am happier, I didn’t think it was noticeable to other people. I’m on antidepressants they’ve made a huge difference. I just finally felt like it was time I took responsibility for my own happiness and I’m just happy to be alive. You’ve helped me so much I can’t thank you enough for everything. I love you” you share.

“I love you honey and there’s no need to thank me it was you who did all the work. I’m happy you’re happy, you deserve it”

“Happier than ever” you correct me.

taglist: taglist: @antisocialties @iluvmatt @dwntwn-strnlo @fake-coolbeans @opheliaofficial07 @angelcake-222 @oneirophobic @strniolo @lollibumblebee

#matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo x reader #🩹🧠#reader’s pov unless specified #if you get the reference i love you

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storiesforallfandoms · 1 year

Text

into fiction ~ hannibal (nbc)

word count: 3235

request?: yes!

“I was wondering if you could write Hannibal x gn!reader. Where the reader is a fan of the character Hannibal (TV series and/or books) and by some unknown or weird or accidental circumstance found themselves in Hannibal universe. They are confused, panicked, or even excited. Maybe the reader popped up in less than ideal situation (will it be a therapy session, in between appointments, a crime scene or something). What would be Hannibal's reaction?

I'm sorry if it isn't something you'd write. But I really enjoy your writing.”

description: when they wakes up in the world of their favorite tv show, they must try to blend in the best they can as to not draw too much suspicious attention to themselves

pairing: hannibal (nbc) characters x gender neutral!reader

warnings: swearing, mentions of cannibalism, mentions of murder and death

masterlist (one, two)

You awoke from your sleep with a start. You were sat up in a chair in an unknown room. You didn’t remember falling asleep. Actually, you didn’t remember anything at all. Where had you been last? Were you in your bedroom? Had you fallen asleep on the couch?

Actually, this looked like neither of those rooms. It was far too big and fancy to be a room in your apartment.

“(Y/N)?”

That voice sounded familiar.

You lifted your head to find yourself sat across from none other than Hannibal Lecter.

You gasped and jumped a little. “Hannibal?”

He gave you an amused look. “Yes, that is my name. I’m sorry if our session has bored you so much you had to fall asleep.”

No, there was no way this was happening. You had to be dreaming. There is no way you are actually sat across from the most notorious fictional serial killer in history.

You moved your hand discreetly to punch yourself, hard. You stifled another gasp at the sharp pain.

He was watching you. You weren’t sure what you were doing here. You had absolutely no idea how you got here or what happened before this moment. It was like your memory had been completely wiped.

“I-I’m sorry,” you finally said, realizing he was waiting for you to speak. “I just...I guess I was tired?”

“Have you been sleeping?” he asked.

I think I’m asleep right now. “A little.”

“That’s normal after what you’ve been through. Most patients who have been in your situation tend to struggle with sleep for a long time. It may be like this for weeks, months even. If it becomes a problem, I can get in contact with your doctor about prescribing sleeping pills.”

“I...I don’t think that will be necessary.” What happened to me?

Hannibal was still watching you. You wondered if he could tell something was wrong, besides the obvious of whatever this bad thing that landed you in therapy was. He would definitely think you were insane if you started talking about him being a fictional character and how you thought none of this was real.

“You go back to work tomorrow,” he commented. “How do you feel about that?”

“Uh...it’s about time, I guess,” you responded. He raised an eyebrow at you. Shit, wrong answer. “I mean, I know I needed to be away from it, but there’s only so much time someone can be stuck at home before they get restless.”

“So you’ll be trying to return to the field?”

The field? There’s no way...

You shrugged. “I don’t know. That’s not up to me.”

“Jack told me he gave you the choice.”

Shit, there is a way.

You shrugged again. “I guess I just haven’t decided yet.”

Hannibal leaned forward. You started a little, but tried to play it off. Don’t let the cannibal know you’re afraid of him, you had to remind yourself.

“I know you want to return to work and pretend like nothing happened so you can go back to normal,” he started, “but what happened is not something that you can easily forget. That man attacked you in a position you once felt safe in, and you had to kill him. That is not something you can get over in a matter of weeks.”

What?!

Okay, this could not get any worse. So, you woke up in a fictional world where your therapist is a serial killer (but you can’t let him know you know that), you’re an FBI agent, and apparently you were attacked by a suspect that you then had to kill.

At least I don’t remember any of that.

“I’ll be fine,” you assured him, although you weren’t sure if you would be.

“I’m sure you will be. Nevertheless, I want to continue with these sessions as you start to work again. Is that something you’d be interested in?”

You nodded, unable to speak.

Hannibal saw you out at the end of your session. Somehow, you knew which car in the parking lot was yours and you quickly got in, grateful to finally be on your own.

This was so much to take in. How did you get here? How were you supposed to blend in with a life you didn’t even remember? Especially when you knew the Hannibal series so well, so you knew what was likely going to happen if it hadn’t already.

You unlocked your phone and opened your GPS. Luckily, the “home” address was saved in there. You loaded up the address and drove towards the place that was supposedly your home in this world. It was still a small place, but it was definitely a lot nicer than your old apartment.

You went to your bedroom and shed yourself of your unfamiliar clothes and got into the unfamiliar bed. You were hoping to go to sleep and wake up back in your own bed and all of this would just be one big, realistic dream.

~~~~~~

You were awoken to the sound of a phone alarm. You rolled over and blindly felt around the nightstand to turn it off. It took a while for your body to fully wake up, and when you opened your eyes, you gasped.

You were still in the unfamiliar room of your Hannibal world apartment.

“No,” you whispered. “No, no, no. This cannot be real.”

You pinched yourself again, but there was still a sharp feeling of pain when you did so. It was starting to set in that whatever was happening was real, but that realization just made you feel more dread. If this was real, what did that mean for your family? Were they here too, or were you the only one pulled into this world? And if they hadn’t, did that mean you were alone in this universe?

You didn’t have enough time to delve into this existential crisis. If this was your life now, you would have to try and blend in. Maybe you could figure out how you got here.

You prepared yourself to go into work. You figured your nervousness would be mistaken for hesitance on returning after a traumatic event, which would work in your favor. You just needed to prepare yourself for any questions that may be unanswerable for now.

You surprised yourself by knowing how to get to the office without needing the GPS. You must’ve had some muscle memory despite not remembering anything else. Hopefully that meant your memories of this world would come back just as easily eventually.

You could feel everyone’s eyes on you as you entered the FBI building. You knew they were all looking at you because of the event that resulted in you having to be away from work for some time, but you couldn’t help but worry they were looking like they because they knew you were an imposter. Like maybe they sensed your unease in this world and knew that you weren’t meant to be here.

The minute you stepped out into the familiar office you had seen on TV a number of times before, you were met with a hug that caught you off guard. You stumbled slightly, trying to figure out which character was hugging you. The minute you realized it was a female, you knew exactly who it was: Beverly.

She’s not dead yet. Thank God.

You hugged her back, squeezing just a little more than you would’ve for anyone else. Knowing what Beverly’s fate had in store for her made this one a little more special to you.

“Don’t overwhelm her on her first day back, Beverly,” came another familiar voice.

You looked up to see none other than Jack Crawford approaching you. Beverly pulled away from your hug and, despite his comment to her, Jack pulled you in for one as well.

“Good to have you back, (Y/N).”

“Good to be back,” you said, and you almost believed it. You had zero recollection of this place or what kind of work you did here, but it felt good to be here. To be surrounded by characters that you loved so much, for real, instead of just watching them on a screen.

Jack pulled away from your hug and nodded for you to follow him. You gave Beverly a small smile before following Jack towards his office. He closed the door behind you and gestured for you to sit at the chair across from his desk.

“I’ve been talking to Doctor Lecter about your sessions leading up to you coming back,” he said once he had sat down at his desk.

Your brows furrowed together. “Isn’t that against doctor-patient confidentiality?”

“Only if he tells me the specifics of your sessions, which is not what I was asking him about. I wanted to know if he thinks you’re ready to be back in the field.”

“And his response?”

Jack sighed. “He thinks you need to keep up with the sessions, and he believes you may need some aid for sleeping. He said you seemed very tired and out of it yesterday.”

You shifted in your seat. “Yeah. I...I was having a...weird day to say the least.”

“I told you that when you came back, it would be your decision if you wanted to be in the field or if you wanted to wait,” Jack said. “Despite having spoken to Doctor Lecter, I am still giving you that choice. Do you think you’re ready to be back, (Y/N)?”

You knew that the answer was no. You didn’t know the first thing about being an FBI agent. If you said you weren’t ready for the field, you gave yourself an out to try and figure out more about your role here before being thrown into it. But, for some reason, you heard yourself saying to Jack, “Yes, I do.”

Jack seemed skeptical, but hearing your certainty he said, “Well, let’s go to your first crime scene back.”

~~~~~~

You tried not to seem too fidgety as you and Jack drove to the scene. You didn’t want to give yourself away, but you weren’t exactly jumping at the chance to see a murder scene, especially not one as gruesome as a Hannibal crime scene. You were squeamish watching them on TV, let alone seeing one in person.

The scene seemed relatively tame (for Hannibal standards anyways) as you pulled up: a bunch of police officers were walking around near the edge of a river, yellow tape crossing off most of the forest-like area on either side of the river so no one would trample the crime scene. One of the officers nodded to Jack as the two of you approached and held up the tape for the two of you to duck under.

Waiting for you was the one person you had been hoping to meet: Will Graham.

“Welcome back, (Y/N),” he said, giving you a subtle nod before turning to Jack. “Body was anchored down to stay at the bottom of the river. It might not have been found if it wasn’t for a hiker and her dog.”

“Are they still here?” Jack asked.

“Over talking to some police.” Will led the two of you towards the river’s edge. A black body back was at the edge of the grass, zipped tight to hide the body inside of it.

“Do we know what the cause of death was?” Jack asked.

Will shook his head. “This body has been down there long enough that whatever fish or aquatic creatures are in the pond have eaten away enough of the body to make it unrecognizable. We can’t even get an identity off of him right now until we send him to forensics.”

You braced yourself as Will reached down to the bag to unzip it, but nothing could’ve prepared you for the body that was inside. Actually, “body” was putting it too generously. What was inside the body bag was mostly bone and some muscle, with almost all of the skin having been eaten off or otherwise washed away by the water.

Your stomach lurched and you quickly turned away, covering your mouth in case you did throw up. Jack was quick to follow you, putting a soothing hand on your back.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

You nodded, but didn’t feel as though you were able to speak just yet.

“Close it up, Will,” Jack said.

“You’ve never been queasy around bodies before,” Will pointed out.

“Just do it!”

You heard the body bag zipping closed. You took a couple of deep breaths to settle your pounding heart and your weak stomach before standing up again. Even though you knew the body bag was closed, you refused to turn back around. You couldn’t face it, or Will and Jack for that matter.

“Maybe you should go back to the station,” Jack suggested.

“I’ll be fine,” you lied.

“(Y/N), as your superior I am giving you an order to go back to the station. Will and I will take care of this, you can help back at the lab with whatever data we can recover.”

You nodded and headed back to the black SUV that you and Jack had arrived in. You sat behind the wheel for a moment, taking a second to recover from what had happened by the river, before turning on the vehicle and driving away from the scene.

However, despite the orders Jack had given you, you didn’t drive back to the station. Instead, you found yourself back at Hannibal’s office. You walked in, not thinking of how Hannibal was likely with another patient, and starting banging on his office door. Luckily, when he opened it, he was alone.

“(Y/N),” he said, surprised by your appearance. “I thought you were returning to your job today.”

“I don’t remember a single thing that has happened before I woke up in your office yesterday, and I’m convinced I’m in a different universe where you and everyone in here are fictional characters and I somehow landed here as an FBI agent who killed someone.”

He looked at you for a long time before stepping aside and gesturing you into his office. No doubt he was trying to think of the phone number for the best mental asylum to send you to as he closed the door behind you and followed you in.

“Let’s start with the memory loss issue,” he said, sitting down in the same chair he was in the day before when you arrived. “You say you don’t remember anything before our session yesterday? Not even how you got here?”

You shook your head and sat across from him. “Nothing. I mean, I have some muscle memories, like I knew how to get to the FBI office today and I knew how to get here from the crime scene I just left, but other than that I don’t remember anything. I don’t remember my job, I don’t remember that attack that supposedly landed me in therapy, I don’t even remember my apartment or if my family is really my family.”

“Do you think this may have something to do with the trauma from the attack?”

You shook your head. “No, there’s no way. If that was it, I would have just that moment repressed and not my entire life before now. But it’s all gone. I can’t even tell you how I got to your office yesterday for our session or what we were talking about before I woke up.”

You started to pace around his office while he watched you. “And, besides, if it was just trauma from the attack, why would I believe that all of this is fake? Why do I think certain things are going to happen, bad things, to the people who are supposedly my colleagues, because I thought I saw them on TV already?”

“It could be that your mind is trying so hard to repress what happened that it has created a false reality that you believe to be true,” Hannibal explained. “Maybe you fell into that delusion yesterday before our session and snapped out of it while here.”

That explanation made sense, but it also terrified you even more. What was real in that case? What wasn’t? And why could you still not remember anything if you had potentially snapped out of the delusion?

“What kinds of things do you think are going to happen to your colleagues?”

You froze. How do you respond to this? What you knew all linked back to Hannibal’s secret - if that was even a real thing and not just another delusion. But if that was real, you couldn’t let him know you were onto him, unless you wanted to become his next victim.

“Beverly is killed by a serial killer,” you started, trying to be as vague as possible. “Killed and left on display for Jack to find. Will goes to prison for a murder he didn’t commit. You and Alana...” You trailed off and let out a slight chuckle, “You start a relationship.”

An amused look passes on Hannibal’s face as well. “A very imaginative mind you have. Is that all?”

You shake your head. “There’s so much more. There’s...well, there’s three seasons worth of plot I think I know about everyone.”

“And yet Beverly is still alive, Will has not been to prison, nor do I think he ever will be, and Doctor Bloom and I have a professional relationship that I do not see changing any time soon. Perhaps you are just trying to deal with the trauma you have gone through by creating these false scenarios where you are a viewer instead of partaking in the violence.”

You could feel tears starting to well up in your eyes. It was all becoming too much to think about. “Doctor Lecter, am I going crazy?”

“We do not use that type of language here,” he responded. “You are dealing with something very distressing, something that has never happened to you before and that can be very traumatic to remember. It is very likely that your brain is trying to protect yourself from those memories by repressing them and trying to come up with a safer reality for you.”

You nodded your head along to what he was saying.

“I believe we should up your sessions to twice a week so we can discuss this,” he said. “Would you be okay with that?”

You nodded again.

Just like the day before, he saw you out of his office. You were shaking and still trying to wrap your head around everything.

“Before you go,” he said, pulling your attention back to him. “Was there anything else in this fantasy version of our lives about me that you saw?”

You couldn’t tell if he was genuinely curious in an amused way, or if he was trying to get something out of you. You tried not to let your face give anything away as you shook your head.

“No. Just that you were Will’s therapist at one point, and then you and Alana started dating. That’s...that’s all I remember.”

There was a skeptical look on his face, one that made your skin crawl.

He nodded. “Just wanted to make sure there was nothing that should be discussed prior to our next session.”

As he closed the door, you felt yourself dreading that next session.

#hannibal #hannibal imagine #hannibal nbc #hannibal netflix #netflix #nbc #imagine #one shot #request #fanfiction #fandom #fanfic

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kalgalen · 1 year

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Open letter to my mother

(or, a rebuttal to the 1k email my mom sent me about my upcoming transition. Tw: transphobia, self-harm)

First, and I say this will all the love in the word (and an healthy dose of disbelief): what the fuck is wrong with cis people?

I'm gonna skip right over the fact that you had the gall to call this a "text analysis" when you actually dedicated only one paragraph to actually describing the text I got published and used the rest to utterly dismiss my community and I. That disappointment, though, is nothing compared to the anger and grief that the rest of your email has awaken in me.

You talk about respect, but you refuse to respect my decision to make my own body more comfortable to me. Worse than that, you disrespect my friends by deciding you get to be the judge determining who conforms to your outdated ideas on gender enough to be allowed to transition. How dare you?

Speaking of daring, how dare you imply that we, the LGBTQIA community, need to be more tolerant and inclusive of people who don't understand us? Do you realize that in many cases it means they want our death? You're a white woman. You've never had to deal with a huge portion of the population wanting you to stop existing, or at least to stop "putting your identity in everyone's faces" - aka, essentially, to (hope you guessed it) stop existing. I'm not asking for understanding from every single old crusty conservative guy, just that they leave us the fuck alone.

You make wild assumptions about me in your email. Do you really think my therapist helped me accept myself? I only came out to her last year when I decided to medically transition, because I was finally confident in my ability to make that choice. We had never talked about gender before. Why would you want to take that away from me? Why would that "self-respect" you're talking about entail me going back on my steps? Why can't it be about me embracing my identity, making my body mine in a way that doesn't involve self-harming?

On that subject, you've never shown concern when I was cutting into my arms on the daily. You acknowledged it, sure, but what did you do except demand that I stop? You have no right to criticize my choice of changing my body. You lost it long ago.

You encouraged me to get a breast reduction last year when I started the process of wanting to transition. You still thought I was cis then, but since it was a surgery for cis people, it was fine and dandy. Now that I want to cut it all off so I don't have to deal with binders anymore (which are indeed quite dangerous for the person wearing them, not to mention uncomfortable) you believe you can go against that. You have to see how irrational that is.

You talk about detransitioners but I'm willing to bet you haven't done more research past "some people regret transitioning." Do you know most people stop transitioning because of transphobia? You, cis people, are killing us one way or another.

Why do you fucking think you can explain gender to me. "We all have a part of masculinity and femininity inside of us" yeah no kidding?? You're telling that to a nonbinary person, that's the whole concept (although not only - but I won't get into it since it'll just confuse you more.) You dare "explaining" to me what androgynity is and why it would "fit me more". You think your couple of hours of half-assed research are enough to compare with my lived experience? With my discussions with like-minded people? With decades of self-determination by a community that is older than you? Also fuck you for implying I've only decided to call myself nonbinary because it's "fun". You don't know anything.

You ask me if sexuality is involved in choosing a gender - and it might be for some but newsflash, trans gay people exist. Additionally, I am asexual - not that you bothered to do research about that. "Before loving a sex we love a way to be, a philosophy, a way to think" fuck off I've known that since I was old enough to fall in love.

Anyways. You'll never read this, because you would only think I'm throwing a tantrum - because you're so sure you're right, and not ready to listen. Whatever, I don't give a shit. I will try and answer your concerns later when I'm not so pissed off, but for the moment I cannot help you.

Lovingly, your child.

#perso #transgender #ok to rb #actually - encouraged to be rb #don't let me be alone in my rage

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nymph-ette111 · 12 days

Note

I’m happy to know you enjoy our interactions too and that you liked my little tangent there. I’m glad that you searched for accounts from actual people who have the disorder rather than pseudo-psychologists, because they are often the harshest without a shred of accuracy (just the way they talk about the narcissist’s eyes turning a demonic black is enough to make me exit the article).

To be fair, Quora is one of the worst places when it comes to accepting people with npd. So I’m glad you managed to find something that didn’t conclude in a pro-eugenics rant lead by a divorced dad who is certain his ex wife is a narcissist because she took the kids. And since I chose my first paper this school year to be about npd and gender (we could write about anything, it was to test our abilities in general), I had to go through a ton of those. They ranged from absolutely hilarious to restraining order worthy. Thankfully Google Scholar saved me from that (though I would never suggest reading studies upon studies on a topic for x reader headcanons, I’m only saying this to sort of validate where my understanding of it came from). Since, yk, it’s a relatively fresh thing (recognised since the 80s I believe) and the fact that I had a therapist who diagnosed me correctly and knew how to approach it is pure luck

Also just any dog metaphor is delightful but it fits so well with Toby too?? Like, it just feels so right when people do that. And I can genuinely see Jeff having some npd traits, good call^^

Ben is just so!!! He’s awful in the best way. I want to kiss him and also put him in a blender for fun :3 i want to drive him insane. And also hold hands maybe. Like, yeah, realistically I would lose my sanity if he liked me but he’s so fun

Also yeah, that’s why I like your blog so much. You don’t shy away from making them hard to be around, hurt, mean. All kinds of messed up but also fun to read about. That’s why I also said that they would probably have an easy time with hurting me mentally, bc if they were aware of just how paranoid I am they would absolutely do what I did in that friend example, only 10 times worse (like, specifically saying stuff they know gets a reaction out of me to force me to stay or do whatever). In all honesty, this might be just why I like creepypasta characters (especially this specific portrayal of them). I mean, it does fit into that type of ‚pleople may be nice but they are out to get you at all times so you need to act to survive’. It’s kind of a safe way to experience something that is both natural to me and also absolutely unsafe irl. Like, yeah, I would have to walk on eggshells to be with Toby but also that is the way I see any sort of relationship either way. Sometimes, I’m more uncomfortable with the pure fluff bc that feels fake and unnatural. On that note, Toby to me is so untreated-bpd coded

-⭐︎

Agreed Ben is so fucking stupid I want to gnaw on him and push him down the stairs, what a silly fella. You don't know how happy it made me when you said you liked my blog :') when I shared my first post I thought it wouldn't get any attention, and I would just end up deleting the blog all together so hearing someone actually enjoys these little headcanons I make about fictional serial killers is so nice <3

you said everything so perfectly I have nothing to add, and yes toby is fucking miserable any disorder he has is 100% untreated and yes I love him and yes I want him and—

#♡⁠˖⁠꒰nymphette talks #divider by pommecita #creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta fandom #creepypasta headcanon #headcanon #ticci toby x reader #ticci toby #ben drowned x reader #ben drowned creepypasta #jeff the killer #x reader

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sinningvin · 2 months

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AITA for using a different name and set of pronouns at school?

I am a transgender man who goes to a very queer inclusive school. I struggle with very bad dysphoria and have been for a few years. Unfortunately, my family is not very understanding. They try to be supportive without “feeling uncomfortable”, but they aren’t really doing anything and sometimes say very ignorant and harmful things, and shamed me very badly in the past and now for being trans. They let me use they them pronouns at school and maybe at home, my mom is still trying to talk to my dad who really doesn’t like the thought of me being trans (surprisingly worse than my mother), but they don’t like me using he/him pronouns anywhere, even in online spaces. They also want me to use my deadname in any place I interact with people, excluding video games. They have eliminated almost every safe space I have, and even have temporarily made my therapy sessions every other week without my knowledge or consent. They have told me about how upset they will be if they hear anyone, god forbid an adult, call be their son or Cody. I tried applying this at school, my deadname and they/them, but I was incredibly dysphoric every time it was used. I was miserable. So I made the very scary decision to use my name and he/him for the safety of my health. My friend said how they didn’t want to use my deadname because they could see it was making me dysphoric, and that many people, including teachers, had a hunch that I was doing this for my safety. I still fear what may happen if this gets revealed to my family. Will I not be able to see my only friends? Will I be pulled out of the only school I have ever felt safe in? Will something worse happen? I’m not sure. I’m using the results of the poll to determine what to do, because while I would make a plan to go to my therapist, I won’t have him next week.

Edit 4/4/24: so speak of nice timing, my mother said that she’s been thinking about it and admitted that she’s been thinking wrong the whole time. She still needs some time to adjust, but told me how I wasn’t saying I didn’t want to be an anything. I just wanted to be me. She also said how she’s getting use to how it’s not the name she’s attached it, it’s the person that bares the name, even if said name means a lot to her. We had a wonderful conversation admitting that she was in the wrong that that she loves me, no matter my gender and name, and actually kinda meaning it. My mom’s now epic. Not sure about my dad though

#trans #transblr #aita #queer #transition

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soldier-poet-king · 11 months

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Ughhhhh

Like tried to open the "hey I'm thinking abt moving out" discussion and it just. Hm

- why leave when you can save so much money living here

- implications of them being hurt because I'm leaving more because this house is slowly killing me and less because of my horrific 2.5hr daily commute

- I need to live in a community again. I can't do suburbs anymore. Even urban loneliness is better than this. At least there are people about. I can go pop into little shops. Join a club. Deadass wandering around a mall would feel less isolating than this. ANYTHING

- unspoken but present "no one in our family has moved out until they got married", ESP for the women on my mother's side, and even then they moved literally down the street and formed a weird codependent dysfunctionional situation that I can't seem to extricate myself from

- it's expensive but I am going to kill someone and then myself if I have to stay here longer. I haven't had a life since 2020. And yeah partially that's covid and even more so it's Living Here and slowly dying a bit everyday after having been free and on my own for 8 yrs

- I spent those 8 yrs putting myself back together slowly and figuring out who I wanted and needed to be and within a year of being back I came the closest to forced involuntary psychiatric hold that I've ever been and I don't think that's a coincidence. The move is not entirely to blame. But it's hard to help myself in an environment like this one. I'm going to need a whole lifetime to piece myself back together and I still don't think it'll ever sit right or be whole again

- but if I leave who'll look out for bro 3. The baby. The sensitive one. The one most similar in temperament to me. Or it'll hurt my parents feelings and what little progress they've made will backslide and everything will get worse again and maybe my dad will *** and it'll just be. My fault.

-bro 2 fucked off across the country without guilt and I wish I could just not care but unfortunately I was raised to be the therapist and carer and my whole purpose of being is to sacrifice myself for other people's comfort so what else am I supposed to do. I have to make up for myself somehow

- my parents bought a starter home with shitty jobs when they were younger than me. I'm maybe NEVER going to be able to afford property, but if I don't start "wasting" money every month on rent I'm not going to live long enough for that to BE a problem. Let alone things like investing and retirement savings. But what if I lose my job or smthn goes drastically wrong and I end up back here with my tail between my legs anyways. Idk if I could survive that again

I am so goddam tired of every decision I make being the wrong one for my family. Of none of my (significant!) accomplishments mattering because they're not the traditional milestones. No I've never had a relationship, I've never even been in a date or been kissed. I'm a weird unattractive person and that's fine because I'm particular and peculiar about relationships anyway. Even if I hate that and I'm defined by hunger and grief. No I'm not engaged or married with kids. I'm tired of me appearing years behind my peers socially because I had to spend so long recovering from wanting to die all the time that I don't feel my age or maturity level even tho I AM comptent at my job and also just good and social lying to appear friendly and normal. I'm tired of being nanny and therapist and mom and all of these horrible gendered responsibilities that I never wanted and can't escape and have shaped me and ruined me and idk what I am without them and I can't even feel resentful without guilt because isn't that what I'm FOR. What else am I for than that. That's my purpose and my Duty and Obligation and I'm weak and selfish for chafing against it. I'm not allowed to love parts of my family and culture and then hate and resent all the ones that have hurt and trapped me and will continue to do so until either I, or all of them, are dead.

All I did was hurt and/or upset both my parents which makes everything worse for everyone in this hell house and maybe that's not my fault or responsibility but it sure feels like it is, and I can't escape it regardless.

I'm so goddam tired

#franposting #just whining its.#yeah #suicide mention cw #IM FINE DW IM TAGGING TO BE SAFE FOR OTHERS #im deeply miserable but im fine. i even ate dinner AND fruit #AND made lunch for tmrw #im just. gonna go watch arcane. or read naruto. both of which will hurt me #but maybe it needs to be external rn #work tmrw. and soo many meetings bc my boss is back and i have to like. showcase that i was ok left alone for 2 weeks #and was actually productive #why am i here. whats the purpose. the reason. the goal of it all. what am i supposed to be doing #beyond simple hollow pleasures to keep me going #so i can drag myself out of bed everyday out of a sense of duty #and that i have to keep going bc maybe itll make the world even the slightest bit better than i found it #and im now allowed any easy outs #i. am once again. going to do a hair mask. literally the only emotional cure all i know other than booze. which is. bad. obvs

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vampirecatboy · 6 months

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getting really tired of living this way, in a body that doesn't feel like mine, seeing a face in the mirror that i don't recognize, none of it is me, none of it is who i'm supposed to be

at the beginning of the year, i had set a goal to start transitioning this year, and i'm running out of time. i came out to my family in august of 2019. i was so scared of things changing between me and my family, but instead, my mom used the wrong pronouns minutes after i came out, and i didn't have the courage to correct her. nothing changed. it was like nothing happened, like i hadn't said anything, and that was far worse than things changing

but i'm sick of feeling this way. i want to transition, but i can't come out to my family first this time. i'm going to tell my therapist, and hope she's supportive. it's a big risk. if i come out to her and things don't go well, i'm going to want a new therapist, and the process of finding one who's good and also trans friendly is not something i want to put myself through right now

i've been seeing her for 6 years, she's helped me through a lot, and the thought of starting over really scares me, but i have to take that risk. it comes with the territory. almost everyone loses important relationships after they come out, and i'm unsure of how things will go

i want to write her a letter, like i did when i first wanted to talk about my mom's abuse. i want to read it to her so i don't stutter and stumble while trying to improvise an explanation.

i wish i had my friends to talk this through with. they were my only support system when it comes to gender. but shit happened, and i don't have them anymore.

i need advice from other trans people, transmasc, transfem, unaligned, anyone who's come out or transitioned or both. i don't care if we've ever talked, or if we're mutuals, if you have advice on how to go about this, i'll take it

tl;dr: i want to start transitioning, but i need to come out to my therapist first, i have no idea if she'll be supportive but i feel like i need to try. if you have advice on how to proceed, whether or not we've talked or are mutuals, i would happily take it

#stuff and things #don't know what to tag this as #not sure i want to put it in the relevant tags #i'm just looking for advice #tldr at the end in case you don't want to read my sob story

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yanderu-deredere · 1 year

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UM so like, ive been feeling really shittt? and i was wondering which of the yanderes would be good at dealing with a depressed or suicidal so?

a/n: yooo im so sorry it took me forever to answer this ask but i hope you're feeling better! and, if you're not, have these lovely yanderes to help! also, i placed it under the cut just because of the warnings so heed the warnings and lets get started!

warnings: mentions of gender dysphoria, mentions of sucidal thoughts and ideations, mentions of depression, mentions of conservative opinion/thoughts, mentions of suicide attempts

gawain dubhán byrne ★ profile

Gawain knew exactly how that felt. In fact, he’d been in the same position as you. There was a time where he was in the wrong body and it made him want to tear himself apart. He dreaded waking up in the morning, all he wanted to do was fall asleep and just never have to deal with anything ever again.

That being said, because of his unique circumstance, he knew kind of what to do. He’d been to therapists and doctors, he knew the breathing techniques and the journaling methods, he knew kind of how to talk you through depressive episodes; he’d take care of you as best as he can.

Actually, Gawain would be the type to take care of you even to the detriment of his own mental health.

If he hasn’t kidnapped you and trapped you in his expensive penthouse, he definitely would now. He has no choice. He couldn't risk leaving you to your own devices! Nobody knew better than him that you can’t fix mentally ill people immediately. A lot of suicides are impulsive.

So, he'd need to trap you in his house. He’d call his brother over if he needs someone to babysit you but, basically, until he deems you well enough to be left alone, the two of you are attached at the hip. He would totally spoon feed you, he’d bathe you, he’d tuck you in; literally becomes an annoying caregiving leech.

Part of it is because he’s overprotective and wants to take care of you. The other part of it is that he wanted someone to do that for him when he was depressed and suicidal. He wanted someone to sweep him of his feet, to take care of him so he didn’t have to think about anything else; someone that would just hug him and hold him and coddle him.

So, now, that’s who he is to you. And, if you don’t like it, well… Gawain thinks you’re too depressed and suicidal to really decide anything for yourself.

fujio watanabe ★ profile

Not to burst your bubble but oh my god, Fujio is definitely the type of person to be like Depressed? The fuck? Just go get a job or something, being depressed is for people who have too much time on their hands.

It really is unfortunate but Fujio isn’t going to take you seriously until he has to.

This means he’ll brush you off until you try to kill yourself, you start hurting yourself physically, you start wasting away because you’re not taking care of yourself, etc. When your health starts being threatened in one way or another, Fujio will explode.

He’s always had a volatile temper and it’s ten times as worse when it comes to his precious darling. Nobody can hurt you, not even yourself.

So, then, he starts talking to people. Not professionals, unfortunately, but like people he knows at work or his boss or people he trains with. It’ll be super stupid, like he just comes out and says it, rolling his eyes like Can you believe this? Being suicidal? Depression? What a load of bullshit, amirite?

Except he’s not right and a lot of people in Lovelock, city notorious for its seedy underbelly, knows it. A lot of people Fujio works with used to be kids that wanted to die rather than continue living their terrible lives with abusive families or with no food on the table. Fujio would definitely be put in his place.

Then he finally understands. He finally realises that this is something he could lose you over. For Fujio, he’d be the type to immediately kidnap his darling so he doubles up on security. He baby proofs your room and you’re not allowed to go outside unless he’s there.

Before, you kind of just had free reign and he let you do whatever as long as you let him know. Now, privileges are revoked. Not because it’s a punishment but because he’s worried you’ll end up hurting yourself.

He’d also be way nicer and gentler to you. It would surprise him since the main reason he ended up falling in love with you was because he felt like he didn’t need to walk on eggshells around you. But, instead of falling out of love, you encourage this weird feeling of overprotectiveness. All he wants to do now is take care of you.

ayaka yamato ★ profile

What do you mean you want to die?

Ayaka wouldn’t be able to understand. Of course she wouldn’t. She’s lived a privileged life where, though her father’s a piece of shit, she’s had everything pretty much handed to her for free. Most people either always want to say yes to her or aren’t able to say no. What more could a lady want?

So, if she finds out that you’re depressed or suicidal, she’d panic a little. You’d think she’d be really conservative about it since she grew up in a conservative household. Something along the lines of you’re not depressed, you’re just being a snowflake.

However, that’s actually the opposite case. Ayaka has never met anyone that’s made her feel the same way you make her feel and, if she has to believe you and do something about it, she will. Anything to keep you by her side.

She just doesn’t know what the fuck you’re talking about at first. So, to learn, she’ll consult her tutor, a doctor, anybody she can find; she’ll learn exactly what she’s supposed to do here, what you need, what she needs to force you to do or what she needs to let you do by yourself.

Surprisingly, for someone who’s never had to lift a single finger her entire life, Ayaka can be relentless and resourceful when she wants to be. She low-key dumps money on the problem which, most of the time, can be a bad idea.

However, with Ayaka, she throws money at the problem with all the love in her heart. She gets you the best therapist money can buy, she makes sure to take you to different places if need be or stay with you in your room if going outside is too much. She makes sure to find out exactly why you’re feeling the way you’re feeling and she’ll put a stop to anything threatening your mental health.

(The one thing she won’t stop is bullying you but she definitely controls her tone in a way that makes it clear to you that she’s joking or teasing you. And, if you voice that you didn’t like something she said, unlike a normal darling, she’d definitely apologise and avoid saying it again in the future)

liam anthony arieh ★ profile

Liam is like a mix of Gawain and Fujio. Part of him is like Depression? Aren’t you being a special snowflake? But also part of him is like oh no, I was severely depressed and suicidal once!

That first part of him comes from the fact that he had nobody to help him when he was depressed. When he wanted to die, the only thing stopping him was the fact that every single time he tried, he ended up in the hospital instead of in the morgue. It took him going through several attempts before he finally got a grip of himself and stopped.

It definitely took him a while to work through his depression and, even now, he sometimes makes suicidal jokes about how funny it would be if he blew his brains out with a gun or if he overdosed, etc. But he doesn’t want to seriously die now and he’s definitely far from depressed.

So, part of him expects you to go through that as well. Part of him thinks that the reason you’re depressed and suicidal is because you’re weak and you just need to get stronger.

However, the other part of him acknowledges that you’re weak. If you’re his darling, most likely the reason why you’ve piqued his interest is because, in his eyes, you are pure and innocent. In his eyes, you needed him to protect you from other people that wanted to do to you the same things he did but for the wrong reasons.

In any case, his solution is surprisingly not to lock you up (if you aren’t already). He’ll definitely start stalking you hard or assigning employees to start trailing you and making sure you’re okay on days he’s not able to do so himself. He also tries to find a therapist but, specifically, a therapist that doesn’t mind breaking patient privilege.

He needs control. He needs to be able to manouver you in the exact way he wants and depression? Depression makes you unpredictable. Depression makes it possible for you to be hurt by the one person he can’t completely protect you from: yourself.And he’d be damned if he lets anyone, especially yourself, take away the one good thing in Lovelock.

#Anonymous #yandere oc x reader #yandere x reader #male yandere #oc x reader #male oc #female oc #gawain #ayaka #fujio #liam #drabbles

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drdemonprince · 1 year

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I have read your article about the pros and cons of Seeking an Autism Diagnosis. I think it makes some very good points. I would like to add my own point of view. At the beginning, it will sound like a far stretch to autism but hear me out :)

I am a transgender woman and my egg cracked right in the middle of the pandemic, a few months after my first, but quite traumatic, ulcerative colitis flare. After many years of overworking myself and drinking way too much on the week-ends, I just reached a point where my body told me “this has to stop”, I felt completely powerless and desperate. I had to implement self-care in my life, it was a matter of survival. The tricky part is that I have been hating myself and pretending to know who I was for so long. My whole life was about alienation. Worse, now I could not use the crutches I was used to. To move on with the transition I had to dig deep down within myself and it was scary and confusing and complicated. I did not feel I was trans enough to transition and I did not feel like talking with “regular” therapists was helping, I felt misunderstood. At the same time, my gf and I spoke a lot, we knew I had some autistic traits but were never sure. I thought I was not autistic enough to search for a diagnosis. I got even more confused the day I learnt a lot of people on the autism spectrum are also trans or non-binary.

I was paralyzed by wanting to transition but hating change but at the same time really wanting to have the benefits from HRT and surgeries. I was just going deeper into depression and not taking care of myself. I then thought looking for a formal autism diagnosis would maybe help me with the transition. If I was autistic, it would mean it was valid enough to transition. At this point, you will probably tell me “and you got yet another crutch”. But I can reply: maybe not, if you hear the rest of the story ?

A week after having the diagnosis, I felt relieved and decided to call my parents to talk about it. I figured talking about my autism would be a good rehearsal for my coming out. The discussion went very bad. My mother especially was very defensive. I ended up crying. I cut all communication with them, I needed time to think. I ended up realizing I had seen how my parents really are as persons. And it was the most freeing moment I had in my life. I started to understand all the BS and the power they had over me, even by appearing as nice and caring. This experience enabled me to move on with my transition and un-shackle myself. It was a rough time but I finally can start to heal. I started HRT 4 months ago, bought feminine clothes last week and I am going at my own pace. I now know I can do it, it just started to click after that discussion. I know I will never use my diagnosis for anything else and at the time I decided I needed it was for completely different reasons, but now I really know why it was useful.

Thank you for reading me, feel free to give me your perspective on that. I just wanted to say people search for a diagnosis for many different reasons.

Thanks for sharing your experience with me. I guess my question would be, if you were in a country where it was necessary to get a gender identity disorder diagnosis in order to transition, would going out and getting that diagnosis have also given you the same kind of relief?

it kinda sounds to me like you took kind of a circuitous route to finding some credentialed authority who would sign off on your self identity in one fashion, so that you could feel okay about having the right to define yourself at all in any fashion. and i think you can be freer than that and deserve to be.

but like im glad it worked out! im glad you got the external permission that made you feel okay giving yourself the permission to do what you had already wanted. i hope you (and all of us) can get to the point where just wanting to do something is enough reason to do it.

i had to take a very complicated and indirect route to giving myself permission to be trans as well, of a different sort. so i do remember what those doubts were like and how impossible they are to intellectually argue away. shoutout to A Safe Girl to Love by Casey Plett and shit ton of high intensity erotic hypnosis for getting me past the point of intellect and into the realm of intuitively feeling what i had known all along

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system-of-a-feather · 1 year

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Honestly, reflecting on some of therapy from yesterday the day after, but I run by a lot of principles. I don't really deal in morality because good and bad are lies and just ways of shaming and control (save for a few situations where I think there are objective bad) but I have some very very firm values and principles I run by which mean a lot to me.

One of the top of top principles I as a part live by is that I absolutely refuse to intentionally lie to myself. If I can and the second I am aware of anything fraudulent to who I am (which is not a solid and defined thing but a very fluid and ever changing thing based on who I am in the moment) to myself I will bite whatever bullshit I have to to get my life and myself back on the same page.

And so in therapy, when I am there specifically because I have a job to do to make sure the system gets where they deserve to be (charged by my top principle value but thats another story) I really don't put any resistance to any topic that will get us closer to that

And I've made that clear, break my bones so I can mend them I don't care and what not. And so our therapist had asked me what sort of stuff I actually remember as I am a trauma holder and honestly, I really do forget it a lot beyond the label cause as I've mentioned before, I'm a very atypical trauma holder in this system and since I've been around again, I haven't really had large periods of which I have had my trauma shit triggered cause the system honestly accommodates me extensively to the point I forget I do.

Not really in a proper dissociative amnesia manner or anything, but just a "it's been a while since it was directly relevant to be thought about" manner. It took me a bit to actually pick it apart because honestly, I try not to fester in the past and I am a fan of turning all my weaknesses and hurt into things I own and use for my own strengths and all

But honestly, my shits and cackles aside, the reason I'm the way I am is because of a shit ton of neglect, a shit ton of competition in the house, and a shit ton of a need to intimidate and kick the ass of a lot of people growing up all combined and resulting in complete confusion in operating in societies based on attachment and comraderie and with people. A lot of that is easy to flip into a strength cause its largely the function I was made for (not necessarily as a part, but as my sister's attack dog) and honestly, it brings me a lot more strengths than weaknesses currently imo so I am not inclined to do much to change it, but there are times and moments where it would be honestly really nice to genuinely and authentically care about what people think of me and have that actually mean jacksquat.

Cause the shit came up in terms of Gender Dysphoria and sexuality with that shit, and a thing that never ceases to annoy me and frustrate me is that almost everyone always approaches it in a "well things that can be said from someone else" "well this and that" "well they feel" and all that shit and all but like

I literally don't care. I literally do not care. I literally can not care because for better or worse, how other people in this world perceive me literally means nothing to me because I never experienced the soft care or attention or any of that garbage family and friends shit, nor have I ever experienced the need or desire beyond our own system which HARDLY counts cause that's still fucking me.

The only opinion I really fucking care about is my own which is GREAT a lot of the time, but when it comes to shit like this I literally can't be pacified by anyone and its so fucking frustrating when all the support, resources and advice you go to for help like this assumes you have that ability to actually understand and process attachment and support and care or whatever.

This is not as absolute in terms of within-system dynamics but whenever it comes to people outside of the system I just really don't understand and can't understand it as a part because it literally just is not in my lexicon even after getting a taste and understanding of it within the system.

Issues like gender dysphoria related shit I wish there were more advice on how to address issues that aren't dependent on "well social conditioning" and "well others can say and do this" and "well others think this" and "well some people dont have this" cause I Dont. Care. About. Other's. Opinions. And. Experiences. On. This. All that shit just feels so fucking irrelevant cause like

Yeah.

I know.

What the fuck does someone else existing and thinking in one way relate at all to my situation? And yeah yeah "blah blah this fits in because ideas of this and that are inherently social in nature and blah blah blah" I dont fucking care.

It's so fucking annoying and I'm not asking for advice or anything. But its just so frustrating navigating a world where people actually make attachments to people and actually seek out approval and acknowledgement from people as someone who just does not compute it.

-XIV

#alter: xiv #vent #vent tw #trauma vent tw #you can comment and all but dont fuckign give me advice

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englishmagic · 1 year

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Want to help me figure out my gender journey? Enjoy a rant!

And I’d also genuinely appreciate thoughts from enbies and other trans people because I don’t know what I am doing here!

My therapist recommended I dive into the deep end of my Gender Issues and find out what, if anything, I want to Do about them. And I… Don’t know where to start. Do I want top surgery? I mean I’m not gonna lie I would love to have less büb, but I’m also not sure I want to go through surgery again for something that’s so close to being cosmetic. But it isn’t really cosmetic is it. But if I have doubts because I worry that it’s just a vanity thing then that probably means I don’t want it enough and therefore don’t need it. But is that just internalised transphobia that sees gender affirming treatment as silly and superficial stuff to be compared with lip fillers and nose jobs and people cramming their faces full of hideous Botox because they’re afraid of aging? Because it’s not the same as that. But maybe I’m kinda scared that it is the same as that.

And t? I have no idea. Because I don’t know what it would do. And I don’t know what the end goal would be. I’m nonbinary, so that’s one thing, and even if I did land on ‘male’ as the gender I want to present as, what does that even mean? At what point would I be man enough? What is just right? What do I want? I’d want the fat redistribution so I can be chubby without having Feminine Curves or being mistaken for pregnant. I’d like to be able to grow a beard, not just flimsy sideburns. But those aren’t necessarily the things that would happen. You can’t just tell the hormones to give you the changes you want; they might just, idk. Make me hairier and smellier and nothing else.

I do want to masculinise. I just don’t have an end goal in mind. My end goal is just… Feel less like shit about myself. Look in the mirror and see me more than 40% of the time instead of the stranger I see in there a lot. Go out into the world with some sort of confidence that at least SOME people will look at me and not see a woman. That’s part of what worries me; that it’s not so much what I want to be as what I don’t want to be. Or, what I am not, I guess, because I’ve long since made peace with being Not A Woman and increasingly I want my social role to reflect that… somehow. For reasons that are hard to define because fuck what people think about me right? But there we are.

I usually regard my gender as “no thanks”, but that’s a difficult thing to define physically. All I know is that I’m not happy with how my body is and what it does, and I’m pretty sure, though not 100% confident because when am I ever, that it’s down to gender dysphoria just as much as it is down to general body dysmorphia and internalised fat shaming. (I’m not even that fat; it’s just settled in uncomfortable places and I’ve outgrown some clothes I don’t want to throw out.)(but I do feel the weight of generational body issues on my shoulders and it complicates every single bad thought I have about my physical appearance.)

Do I mind being ugly? No. Honestly sometimes the person in the mirror is a lovely looking lady and I wish so badly that I could be her. But I’m not, and honestly I’m sick of trying to be, and in some ways it feels dishonest to go around looking like this fictional person who, while lovely, does not exist and cannot deliver on the promises the outward appearance makes. I’d gladly look worse if I looked more like me.

But then, what is looking like me? When I think of what “I” look like, I think back to when I was an androgynous teenager, when a lot of my gender ambiguity was down to my thin gangly physique, which I’m obviously not going to recreate. Like, I’m not looking to become thin. I’m looking to become androgynous, I guess. And what does that mean in a bigger body? In an ADULT body? Is it easier then to just aim for “male” and decide I will hop off that train if it ever feels like it’s too much? I do feel a lot of Feelings of kinship towards trans men, especially older trans men.

But medical transition also feels like too big of a decision, too drastic, too much of an upheaval. I know that I want to feel better and I know that treatment might be the key, but it also feels fucked up to see my identity as a condition with a medicalised cure, you know?

But then again, it’s the depression that is the condition, not the identity. The depression is the thing I know I have and am taking pills for and showing up to therapy for, and which my therapist says might actually stem from my issues with identity, and might improve if I work through some of those - potentially in a physical way. Aka, trying to see if I would qualify for t or maybe top surgery.

Honestly it’s stupid to even think about these things because I’d have to qualify and I’ll never qualify. I’d have to go the private route, and we all know how I feel about private healthcare services and giving them money…….

In summary, afsgskhasnksdhakajal. Thank you and good night.

#agender #trans stuff #gender issues #working through some shit #soz life

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