#I fucking love trauma research and people feeling SECURE and SAFE

[twitteringnerdsneverfly]

Is Yashiro’s sexuality innate or his another coping mechanism against his trauma, as if the trauma is too early (he said himself that he was raped even before knowing what affection was) and too severe that his brain restructures itself to survive?

Hi @kyrieren ! You are my first ask woo! 🥳 I am not a neuropsychiatrist however 😅 neither am I a psychologist, all I can give you is my personal opinion, and it may be very scientifically inaccurate!

However, I can add a caveat that I have personal experience with trauma (not Yashiro-type trauma tho) and I do have some friends irl who have had childhood trauma and these are merely my layman observations + research 🧐

Childhood attachment is an attachment theory of how we learn to develop, cope and bond with people in the world. It's said that your romantic attachment style will be your childhood attachment style because it's what you've grown up with, what you know, how to deal with the people closest to you. Romantic relationships tend to bring out your attachment style because parental and romantic relationships are usually the closest you are to another human being.

Given that childhood attachment teaches us how to relate to the world and people, this becomes familiar and what we know.

The worst childhood attachment style: insecure disorganised attachment.

This is when a child is betrayed by the caregivers around them, who are meant to provide a safe, secure, loving base and instead what the child receives is physical, sexual, emotional or neglectful abuse.

The brain gets fucked, it's scrambled, a child cannot comprehend what is happening. All you know as a child is that mom/dad/uncle/etc is hurting you and they are your caregivers, who you rely upon in this world.

Unfortunately, it is unbearable to think as a child that mom/dad etc is bad (how are you to cope / survive if the people you rely upon are either bad or don't love you?) so unfortunately what tends to happen are the following:

The child starts to think they're bad

The child starts to rationalise that they must deserve the punishment

That punishment is misconstrued as an act of love / given a positive spin

None of these are verbalised / articulated / rationalised states. A lot of the time they are subconscious, automatic.

Enter Yashiro.

IMHO, Yashiro's betrayal from his caregivers, his insecure disorganized attachment (which also he displays avoidant attachment traits too), is so severe that he has warped the trauma into a good thing. It is unbearable for him to think that his mom and step father have betrayed / abused him to such a degree so he has taken the most painful part of it, and fooled himself into thinking "it wasn't so bad, kinda liked it".

So in his adult sexual relationships Yashiro, in my opinion subconsciously, finds himself acting out the abuse again and again: hands tied, taken from behind, can't see the face. And claims this is his preference.

To deal with all the trauma, Yashiro's brain has combined the severity of the trauma that has left its mark upon his brain with "oh I'm addicted to sex, and sex in this particularly painful way" without adding everything together.

This fucked up way Yashiro has sex is his trauma and attachment all combined. Unspoken within the attachment are things like: this is what I must do to feel safe, this is what I must do to survive / get on the good side of this person.

Yashiro has a kind of detachment to his trauma or so he claims, yet it is so embedded in his brain as the norm that it's his preference because this type of sex is what is familiar.

So yes Kyrieren, in answer to your question, Yashiro's sexuality is his coping mechanism.

It's what he had to put up with to survive, and his brain has now twisted it to think it wasn't so bad, maybe he even liked it. It makes the trauma more digestible to Yashiro this way.

ENTER DOUMEKI.

Doumeki threatens this entire narrative Yashiro has given himself to cope, "oh I like sex this way, it's not so bad, I don't feel anything otherwise, this is what I want".

Yashiro HAD to believe he wanted / wants sex this way because he had no other choice. He was raped and abused. And he has done as best as any trauma survivor could.

Doumeki represents choice and also a shattering of Yashiro's previous beliefs and the super uncomfortable mirror that what happened to Yashiro was not OK, he was betrayed, painful sex is not the norm, nothing to do with his abuse is OK - he is now allowed and able to choose another way. But this is unfamiliar and scary for our dear Yashiro, and holds a lot of painful realisations.

Thanks to Kyrieren for asking the question!

#saezuru tori wa habatakanai #twittering birds never fly #yashiro x doumeki #saezuru meta #saezuru fandom #saezuru analysis

[affectiondeficitdisorder]

Attachment vs Addiction: Where does style end, and diagnosis begin?

I was recently asked what my attachment style is. I didn’t know what to say. Is “un” a style? I’m also not clear on my love language. Something with a hard-to-decipher accent, I suspect. 

Love languages, attachment styles… I don’t think love addicts fit well into these relationship categories. We are not the average Dear Prudence reader. We are the few, the proud, the neurochemically distinct. At least, I think we are. But I could be wrong. Maybe love addiction is just a dysregulated attachment style? 

I got curious so I did some research, because that’s what the internet is for. Unless you’re a sex addict, in which case it’s for pornography.

In a nutshell: Attachment theory was first proposed by British psychoanalyst John Bowlby back in the 1950s, and refined by his work with developmental psychologist Mary Ainsworth in the 1970s. The idea is that a person’s comfort and confidence in close relationships – mainly but not exclusively romantic – is set up in early childhood, essentially based on how safe an infant feels with its caregiver/s. Safe = Secure Attachment. Unsafe = three flavors of Insecure Attachment.

Inconsistent or unreliable parenting leaves the child with unmet needs (“affection deficit disorder,” one might say) and sets them up for insecure attachment. That push-pull between a yearning for intimacy and a fear or rejection is factory installed. So the good news is, this isn’t a series of stupid choices you made. You didn’t just fuck up. The bad news: You can’t go back and unfuck it.

 The basic Attachment Styles are: 

Secure Attachment: The good one. Fewer than half the population (as few as 15%, according to some researchers) can boast of this. You need to have had consistent and reliable parents, preferably in a strong partnership. I haven’t met many of those parents, personally, but then you have to consider the circles I move in. Individuals with secure attachment feel comfortable with intimacy and trust their partners. They can express emotions openly, manage conflict healthily, and value both independence and connection.

If your parents were absent, or drunk, or mentally ill, or untrustworthy in other colorful ways, you end up with insecure attachment. There are three basic insecure attachment styles:

Anxious Attachment: Sometimes called “fearful” or “ambivalent” attachment. These are people who crave closeness but fear rejection. They might be clingy and seek constant reassurance, constantly on the lookout for signs of a partner’s disapproval. This is the “never leave me” partner, even in abusive situations.

Avoidant Attachment: Those with avoidant attachment prioritize independence and downplay the importance of intimacy. They fear commitment, may be uncomfortable expressing strong emotions, and can push partners away to avoid feeling vulnerable. This is your basic player.

Disorganized Attachment (Fearful-Avoidant): This attachment style usually stems from childhood trauma. Individuals with disorganized attachment desperately desire connection yet desperately fear it. They struggle with trust and can behave erratically in relationship. “Come here go away” is their motto. 

So which one am I, you ask? Nosy parker. But I was curious, too, so I took a test. (I liked this one, but there are tons online.) Turns out, I am… sort of all of them. Light on the Secure, naturally, mostly Avoidant, but with a healthy dollop of batshit Disorganized. 

Here, look:

Disorganized attachment folks say stuff like “Relationships are confusing.” “People let you down.” “My partner is unpredictable.” “My partner says I’m unpredictable.” “Sometimes, I mentally check out because it’s all too much.” “I want to be close, but I’m afraid of getting hurt.” “Getting hurt is inevitable.” We don’t make a lot of eye contact. I can relate.

Avoidant attachment people might say, “I don’t see the point of talking about my feelings. Feelings are overrated.” “I don’t like to depend on people or ask for help. I’d rather do things myself.” “I can seem standoffish or like I don’t really care.””I need time to myself.” “I’m fine on my own.” I can relate to this, too.

Anxious attachers would say (albeit probably not out loud) “I want to be with you or in contact with you all the time.” “I’m terrified that you’ll leave me.” “I need constant reassurance of your love and commitment.” “My insecurity makes me jealous.” “Is there something wrong with me that makes you pull away?” This I don’t relate to as much, although I have stayed with a few men it would have been healthier to leave. 

Which of these, then, is the love addict? In my experience, it can be any of them, except maybe for secure. We are anxious attachment squared. Avoidant attachment on steroids. Disorganized attachment on crack. Sometimes literally with the crack…. We love addicts can get addicted to whatever kind of attachment we are in at the moment, because first and foremost we are addicts. And addiction is the result of a more complex soup of causes than just your parental units. 

As you know, I subscribe to the three-alarm fire theory of addiction: To make a decent fire, you need to have something to burn, a match to light the flame, and oxygen to keep it going. Adverse childhood experience (ACE) — like inconsistent and unreliable parenting — might be the match that lights the firewood. But you have to have dry kindling to start with, and that’s the brain chemistry you were born with: Inefficient reward transmitters, lousy dopamine receptors, all the stuff I’ve been writing about lo, these many years. 

And of course you have to have an environment that keeps the fire raging. Nightclubs and dating apps are great for that. Harems and convents, not so much. Absent any of these elements and your attachment style is just… your style, like Business Casual or Vintage Bohemian.

Me, I like cargo pants and combat boots and lean Fearful/Avoidant. Neither makes me an addict. Attachment styles I can learn to change. Addiction I get to recover from. Cargo pants and combat boots… those are just fatal.

#love addiction #love addict #romance #relationships #anxious attachment #avoidant attachment #attachment styles #disorganized attachment #dopamine

[humanspiritbeingkd]

why healing feels scary:

the interval of not knowing who you are.

during our early-formative years, if our identity is formed in a chaotic, consistently tense, or abusive situation -- that is not the true you.  it is rather an identity made up of reactions, coping mechanisms and probably some damaging false beliefs.  when you start to heal, by either finding or creating the proper conditions of safety and curiosity, those defenses start to fall away.  they’re simply not needed as an inner-felt-sense of security builds in the actual tissues and cells and blood and bones of your body and nervous system. enter the shakey rawness of “who am i really?”  what do i do now that my body isn’t worried about survival or walking on eggshells?  you mean i don’t need these walls around my heart?  i don’t need to people-please or feel shame for simply existing?  i don’t have to emotionally caretake others to receive love? for real? [and it’s a process, right...an inching out into the new...a recoil...inching a bit further...maybe a smaller recoil...back out again, inner space strengthening...]

it doesn’t have to be scary, but often what’s familiar is soothing even if the familiar pattern or dynamic is painful.  kinda weird, right? like we gotta keep touching that hot stove until one day we can really see it clearly: this fucking hurts and i have the power to change. it doesn’t super feel like i have the power, but deep down somewhere i know i no longer need to touch that hot stove and i can figure it out, somehow, even if slowly.  i rather be wildly uncomfortable figuring it out than repeating *that.* so here we go, off healing into unknown territory...getting a little bit braver as we scooch our way forward, wondering if maybe uncertainty could be...really rich? like, richer than we’ve ever known?

during this interval, i suggest adopting the archetype of an explorer, researcher, discoverer, scientist, archaeologist, excavator, you name it!  start to experiment with anything that might light you up.

maybe you already have a few things that light you up but even still, perhaps they too were reactionary.  

for example:  when i was a little girl i longed to be a star just like lucille ball.  i can see now how that easily (likely) could have been a reaction to what i felt was an environment where i wasn’t able to safely express and have-heard all of my emotions...a longing to fully express myself, to be seen, accepted and loved for who i am.  it’s no secret that this is a motivation for a lot of performers (maybe even dear lucy herself).  as roxie hart puts it from the musical chicago:  “i’m a star and the audience loves me...and i love them...and they love me for loving them and i love them for loving me...and we love each other...and that’s cuz none of us got enough love in our childhoods...and that’s show-biz, kid”

  jumping ahead to my twenties when i started acting -- was this something i enjoyed doing? yes, yes, yes and no, depending on the role.  now, i am careful with my motivations.  will this role or gig be fun for me?  will it be fulfilling to play this character and explore their life story, their nuanced depth of emotion? will it expand my empathy or confidence in some way? or am i acting just to be seen?  admittedly there is undoubtedly some-”thing” in my core being that has a streak of lucille ball, a streak of performative outrageousness, maybe my leo rising...so who’s to say really? did the developmental wounding set me on my way into something i'd inevitably enjoy doing?

sometimes it works like that, especially with a lot of artists.  

but what i want to get at about art or any hobby that lights us up but that contains lingering trauma motivations: let it transform the past for you.  let it work for you, not rule you - because at some point in your healing journey, you might find a loss of fuel for that thing you enjoy so much...perhaps the need to prove yourself through this activity has faded...what then? it doesn’t necessarily mean the activity or medium is no good, but can it be a channel for the true-er you? maybe, maybe not.  maybe it is time for something entirely new.  

another example: my nature walks.  people speak of walking (especially) in nature as so relaxing and pleasurable.  for me these walks have been a necessity.  since a young age i have routinely needed to go outside and be alone, a lot of times bringing with me some heavy load to unwind that it can start to become a reflex for the mental and emotional body, “oh here we go outside again, going on a walk again, cue up some problems to work out.”  i’ve had to unlearn and retrain myself how to go on these walks and enjoy them for what they truly are: a pleasurable gift.

i am still learning.

i, too, am in this interval right now, excavating and discovering what kind of life i want to lead with a greater sense of harmony, of safety, and not safe as in tiny window-of-tolerance, pushing out the world to feel safe, but this wonderfully exciting, growing window-of-presence...an opening up more fully to myself and others kind of safe. a simultaneously silly, vulnerable and owning-my-power kind of harmony. and i feel raw as fuck. :) in the words of my bcst teacher Anna quoting the words of Leonard Cohen: “ring the bell that still can ring, forget your perfect offering, there is a crack, a crack in everything, that’s how the light gets in.”

[steppedoffaflight]

currently reading this book and while I'm only in the middle of the introduction I know it's gonna blow my minddd

#you know when you JUST start a book but every point is like... yes! omg yes. yes. #that's how I'm feeling rn #also i don't think i could find a book that better catered to my interests if i tried 😂 #I fucking love trauma research and people feeling SECURE and SAFE

[thefanficmonster]

Innocent Life

Ethan Winters (Resident Evil Biohazard) & Child!Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Angst, Mentions of Death, Grief, Spoilers for RE8:Village, Swearing

Genre: Angst

Summary: As Ethan stands outside the ruins of Luiza’s house, looking the aftermath of the death he barely escaped in the eye, he cannot get the wails and cries of a child out of his head. Takes him a bit to realize they’re not a product of his trauma.

Requested by Anon. Hi dear! Thank you so much for the wonderful request, I had a blast writing it - what can I say, angst is my specialty hehe. Hope you enjoy the read! Love, Vy ❤

How the hell is this happening? Why is this happening? Why to me? Why my family? Why were we the ones chosen for this suffering to be thrown upon? What did my daughter do to deserve this, for fuck’s sake?!

Why does everyone around me die? Why do I always loose everyone?

I’m the problem....

His knees are weak, his head’s spinning. His lungs have filled with smoke and ash so much he can barely breathe. His eyes sting, reddened around the edges, his vision blurry. However, what bothers him most is the mess that is currently his mind - swimming with the feeling of betrayal, sorrow and dread.

He lost so much so suddenly and in such a short amount of time. He lost Chris - someone he thought of as a friend but has now been replaced by a coldblooded killer and backstabber. He refuses to believe that’s still the Chris who saved him and Mia from Louisiana, he has to be dead.

Mia....

He lost Mia. He’s lost her before countless times - he lost her when he though she was dead, he kept losing her and getting her back at the Bakers’ residence as she switched between her monstrous form and being herself. He lost her again when they made it back, when her mind was clouded and darkened, when all she needed was solitude and when he wasn’t allowed anywhere near her as doctors upon doctors used her as a research object. And now he’s lost her again, this time for good. It’s just him and Rose now.

Or it would be if she too wasn’t taken from him, leaving him in the pit of grief and loss, both emotions at an intensity he’s never experienced before. Like a drill going through his heart, or a sledgehammer breaking it down to shards. Or as though his heart’s completely vanished, unable to take the anguish Ethan’s existence has become. The anguish that will live on for as long as he will.

Those three years of Mia being gone.

That nightmarish night back in Louisiana.

The horrific sight of dozens of bullets entering his wife’s body in front of his very eyes as he remained helpless.

The sound of Rose’s wailing cries.

God, he can still hear them. And oh so vividly. Like a cursed, haunting loop in his brain. If he closes his eyes he can almost imagine her being a few feet from him, near him, giving him the opportunity to soothe her, calm her down, tell her it’s all gonna be ok even if it seems like hell at the moment. Promising he’d make it all alright and make the right people pay for what’s happened.

But then finally, he picks up on it - the oddity in the cries he’s hearing.

They’re too realistic for a mind to be able to produce. They’re too loud and too close and are external. And, most importantly, they sound like the cries of an older child.

Ethan quickly snaps himself back to reality, coming to terms with the knowledge that the sounds he’s hearing are a part of it and not some dark corner of his mind. Despite the horror he feels and creep up, taking over his whole body in the form of cold sweat, he still takes a step towards the source of the ear-splitting and heart-sinking noise. It’s instinctively human to feel a sickening feeling of sympathy combined with the need to shield something so powerless from any harm.

To save an innocent life.

Heading towards the side of what used to be Luiza’s house he spots it - a crib on top of which there’s a pile of rubble and wooden planks. The thing seems to barely be standing and yet it’s harboring the child whose cries have now grown louder. Ethan’s frozen for a few moments, frozen with fear. Frozen with the overwhelming thought that there’s no way he can save that child. Frozen and powerless, just like he was on the floor of his own home as life left Mia’s body.

You didn’t do anything for her....

The sound of a crack in the already weak wood, seemingly coming from the child’s crib, sends all his senses on edge, his adrenaline once again starting to rush through his veins.

But you can do something for that child, Ethan! Do something before it’s too late!

Within the blink of an eye, Ethan finds himself standing above the unsteady wooden structure, putting all his strength into removing the rubble that has thankfully piled atop the wooden planks, preventing anything from landing on the baby and harming it. Hell, it’s a miracle it didn’t suffocate from the smoke in the first place. Its cries are put to a halt when its wide eyes land on Ethan, who’s looking back at the toddler with the same amount of distress.

“Hi there. It’s ok, you’re safe now.“ He finds himself breathing out shakily as his trembling hands reach down, picking up the now silent toddler. “It’s ok, little one. You’re a literal miracle, you know that?“ His gaze travels over the ruin the house has become, the house that was this child’s home. Its family’s home. This toddler knows loss much like Ethan does, or it will when it grows up. But as of now, it’s secured in the bubble of blissful ignorance due to infancy.

And Ethan has come across yet another bump in the road: making his way in the castle was already gonna be a difficult and possibly lethal venture, but doing it with a child in his arms, that’s a death sentence for both him and the kid.

“You and I have a thing for surviving hell, but not even I am willing to take the risk of taking you with me, kid.“ He gently caresses the toddlers head as its big awed eyes blink up at him with curiosity.

One one hand, a castle with horrors he’s yet to be familiar with; on the other, a village which’s horrors he’s already seen and experienced and would rather die right in this very spot than subject this innocent kid to them.

Ethan’s once again stranded.

“What do I do with you, kid? Being with me won’t bring you any good. I’m like a death sentence to everyone around me.“ His heart breaks as he says that because - in his mind and by his logic - it’s the truth. It’s the only thing that makes sense in such a nonsensical situation.

Then suddenly, an idea sparks, fueling what little hope and courage he has left and getting his legs to move from the spot they’ve been stuck in for the past God knows how long. That’s not important right now. What matters is that, for the first time since this nightmare started, Ethan Winters has a clue of what he’s doing. He’s got a plan.

                                                                *  *  *

“I see you have returned!“ The Duke greets him with his signature lazy smile before his gaze lands on the child in Ethan’s arms, his eyes widening in surprise, “Oh, and you’ve got company!“

“Actually...“ Ethan stops in front of the shop, adjusting his grip on the kid, “They’ll be keeping you company from now until....well, until I come back.“

“And where is it you’re planning on going?“ The Duke asks, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion and concern, “Perhaps you don’t suppose I know how to take care of a child.“

Ethan grows irritated, “Perhaps you don’t suppose I’m gonna take a kid into that castle you called me insane for wanting to go in myself. Trust me, I wouldn’t be leaving them with you if it wasn’t my only choice.” When he doesn’t receive a verbal response from the Duke, more of an expression change that suggested he’s accepting of this, Ethan grow relieved, turning to the toddler that hasn’t taken its eyes off him even for a second. “Hey, you’re gonna be just alright with the big guy, ok? He’s gonna keep you safe until I come back.” His initial intention was to say ‘even if I don’t come back’ but he just couldn’t bring himself to say it, not to the kid at least, “Until then...” He pauses when a name automatically pops up in his head, “Until then, Y/N, you’ll stay here with the Duke.”

After that heavy-hearted goodbye, Ethan reluctantly hands the kid - Y/N - over to the Duke, a shift they are not very happy about seeing as how they start wailing immediately.

“You owe me plenty, Mr. Winters.“ The Duke says with a frown on his face, displeased and already developing a headache from the child’s cries.

“I owe you nothing. What you’re doing is basic human decency.“ Ethan glares at him before turning his attention to Y/N, “Hey, it’s alright. I know you two aren’t big fans of one another, but I promise I won’t take long. I’ll be back before you know it.“ Planting a quick reassuring kiss on top of the child’s head, he steps away, relieved to find they don’t break out in a crying fit again.

With that peace of mind, he takes off on the path that’ll lead him to the castle. A part of him has found some peace, knowing that one innocent life has been saved.  However, there’s still one awaiting rescue. And he’ll be damned if he’s not the rescuer.

#resident evil 8 #resident evil #resident evil heisenberg #resident evil village #resident evil 7 #re village #re8 #re8 village #resident evil ethan winters #re ethan winters #ethan winters x reader #ethan winters #rose winters #mia winters #chris redfield #karl heisenberg #lady dimitrescu #video game #video games #video game fanfic #father #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #parent #angst #request #requests open #x reader #reader

[hollyhomburg]

I'm fairly confused about this entire situation, honestly. I saw the original girl comment about whether or not she was entirely sure to feel comfortable on a page meant to do that exact thing. In my opinion (which is fairly confused atm), you were both in the wrong. Of course, you don't have to answer anything about your gender or whether or not you have certain body parts, I can definitely understand that! But the extra meanness was a bit uncalled for. They just didn't want to feel unsafe :/

Also, everyone deals with pain differently. Whether or not if it's something that seems a bit pushy or not. I feel for both sides of this weird miscommunication, I really do. I guess that's just my inner-understanding lol. So yeah, I feel for you! I know what it feels like to go through things that annoy you and cause disruption amongst your inner self, but my heart also goes out to the girl that was painted as a transphobe when all she wanted to do was feel was safe.

P.S, this was absolutely not coming from a place of anger! It is your choice whether to insult me or realize that people have different opinions; I will understand if either one is chosen! I wish you well, and if the girl is also reading this, I wish you well too and I really do hope that you get closure and understanding because I've also gone through something similar to what you have. It's so painful, but stay strong and you'll be able to say that you came out of it alive :)

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

First off, I want you to know that the anger in the response is not directed at you the asker of this question. but at the person from last night. second, I’m probably not going to respond to any more asks on this topic, because I'm tired. 

okay so let me put it this way for you. you would not under any circumstances pull down Anyone's pants to check their genitals in public. right? or demand that they pull down their pants for you and expose themselves in a public way just so that you can make sure they don’t have a penis. 

The fact of the matter is that someone else's genitals are none of yours nor anyone else's business. And asking about this is not only violating and transphobic but also inappropriate. (I shouldn’t have to clarify that this is transphobic at this point. before you want to argue that- do your research, google is free).

what you seem to misunderstand is that transphobia is an act of aggression. to be transphobic is to cause trauma, to trigger, to be violent. this person asking me about my genitals was an act of violence. and I responded like it was one- with meanness that was called for because I felt hurt. because what they said was hurtful. 

as someone who has never felt safe in my entire life, both because of abuse, rape, and my identity- that doesn't give me a right to threaten someone elces safety because my safety demands it. each and all traumas are valid, and just because they wanted to feel safe on my page doesn't give them a right to take away my safety. especially because this is my page and my safe space that I have created with hours of uncompensated work. So no- they don't have a right to take away my safety and security for their own.  

asking on anon is also a little sus, they didn’t reach out through dm- which is how all things of a personal nature should be. they knew there was a possibility I would take it wrong and didn’t want to be blocked from my page. they feel entitled to my work and entitled to my body in the same way. i wont apologize for trying to preserve this page, and I won’t apologize for acting for matching their level of meanness. 

when you have trauma there are so many things that are triggering for other people that aren’t triggering for you. The real world doesn't come with specific trigger warnings and you have to eventually come to that conclusion with trauma, you will be triggered for no reason at one point, and its a sad fact but it will happen. 

for example- one of my triggers is piano music. to this day I can’t watch my favorite idol play piano because it is too much of a trigger to me. 

But I would NEVER insinuate that min yoongi needed to stop playing piano music just because at one point in my life my stalker would blast piano music outside my bedroom window at 3 am to keep me from sleeping for weeks at a time. or because I was constantly sleep deprived growing up because he wouldn’t let me sleep- my triggers and my reality are irrelevant to min yoongi enjoying the thing he enjoys, just like that person’s trauma is irrelevant to my own. It would be mean and uncalled for me to demand he stops doing something he loves just because it's a trigger for me. People will exist outside of your trauma and that's okay.  

(tw; rape) I’ve been rapped by three men in my life. One was a frat boy in college who I woke up to telling me my hole was bleeding and wanted me to leave because I was getting it all over his sheets. another was a old man, it happened when I was so little that I barely remember it and honestly, all I remember is how much it hurt and how dirty his hands were, he had a lot of dirt under his nails and I remember thinking ‘i don't think that should go inside me’ as a fucking 5-year-old

And the third, was three years ago when an American gi rapped me in hongdae, South Korea, I met him at a bar called mikes cabin. I wasn’t a perfect victim, i’d just had a fight with my soulmate and I went out looking for trouble and I found it. but after I changed my mind he didn’t care, he shoved his dick in my ass without my consent. I bled all over his sheets too. choked on the blood coming out my nose after he slapped me. i remember he shoved his phone in my face to take pictures. somewhere out there there are pictures of me getting raped and I don’t even know where they are or how many people have seen them. 

I don't even know his name only that he had a rose tattoo over his heart. my deadnames middle name is rose. My mom calls me ‘rosebud’ or ‘rosie’ more than my dead name. is it a trigger for me? yes. it is. of course, it is. how could it not be?  

I’ve been raped. i know what they’ve gone through, I know where their pain comes from but my pain is valid too. my genitals could be a trigger to that anon, but defining them in a binary of woman and man is a trigger for me. I am a person and they are a person and both of our triggers are equally valid. but this is my place. this is my expression. 

so why did I act meanly? first off. they violated me by asking me invasive questions and demanded a response. and then secondly; when I asked them not to and told them no- they invalidated my consent and my trauma. then thirdly- they misgendered me- fully committing to being a transphobe. that's why I was mean- because they were mean first.  

this is the only time I’ll explain why I was justified. I hope they get closure too- but their closure isn’t going to come from violence against me or any other trans person. one day that person is probably going to meet a trans woman, and I hope they know better than to call them a boy just because they have a penis. trans people aren’t your punching bags for your trauma. 

trauma doesn't give you the excuse to be a transphobe, no matter what happened to you. you have to learn to treat others with dignity and respect no matter their gender identity or how they trigger you. Because people can’t control what parts of themselves are triggering to you. 

This is the last I’ll talk about this. I'm gonna delete all the other asks asking me about this. I’m not going to talk about it anymore. if you can’t understand why what they did was bad, get off my page. I don’t want you here. 

#i put it under a readmore because it's long and triggering #Anonymous

[xpouii]

JSE Day 10: The end is near

Day 10 of the JSE artists prompts 2019 by @septic-bella

**All previous entries are available on AO3 under the title “Mayhem” with my same username.**

               Henrik was sitting at the end of Jack’s bed when Jackie and Marvin came in. Jackie was pushing Marvin in a wheelchair, and the magician looked more than annoyed. “What happened?” Henrik asked, standing.

               “Oh don’t worry I’m just here to give birth,” Marvin muttered gathering his hair up behind his head. “Does anybody have a rubber band?”

               “Something happened with Anti,” Chase muttered from his bed. “Right?”

               Marvin raised an eyebrow, using a rubber band from Henrik to tie his hair back knowing full well he’d regret it later. “Good guess, you psychic now?”

               “We have a theory,” Henrik said. “I have a theory that Jack’s seizures are linked to Anti’s manifestations. What we don’t know is the exact nature of this link, whether Anti is leeching energy from Jack, or if Jack is fighting him somehow in a subconscious state.”

               “Tell them the rest!” Chase muttered. “Tell them what you did.”

               “Chase I had good reason to-“

               “Tell them!”

               Henrik shifted, “I observed Jack during his latest seizure.”

               “Observed?!”

               “Chase, please,” Jackie said, trying to regain some semblance of peace.

               “You should’ve seen the look on his face! He just let it happen, Jackie!” Chase cried, his wrists pulling against the restraints.

               Jackie sighed, “Schneep, are the restraints really necessary?”

               “Of course not,” Henrik said. “The orderlies were just following security protocol. Unfortunately, when I got close enough to free him, he tried to headbutt me.”

               “Chase!” Jackie scolded.

               “He was using Jack like a guinea pig!” Chase said, red-faced. “It’s not cool! It’s not even remotely cool!”

               “We can’t afford to be fighting like this,” Marvin said. “Just let Schneep say his peace. The least we can all do is listen.”

               Chase sank further into the bed, closing his eyes, “Yeah I don’t have the energy to go after him anyway. I doubt I could make it across the room.”

               “I’ll go and get Jameson,” Henrik said, leaving the room.

               Jackie walked over and took off Chase’s restraints, “What a mess.”

               Chase sat up, pulling his knees to his chest, “I don’t like this, Jackie. Just don’t let him hurt Jack.”

               “I won’t,” Jackie said.

               “We won’t,” Marvin added.

                 Jameson looked tired, fundamentally worn down like he never had before, but he smiled when he saw them. His jaw was pressed down to his chest, sutured in place to let his trachea heal, and he had to look up to see them, so he resigned himself to mostly listening. They took comfortable places in the room and Henrik stood at the foot of Jack’s bed to speak.

               “My proposal is that we continue to observe until we can figure out whether these seizures are parasitic in nature, or if they are caused by Jack himself. Once we have a good idea of which, we either heavily medicate Jack to stop them entirely—the dosage could be detrimental to his long-term health but it would effectively weaken Anti or we continue to let the seizures go on uninhibited and attempt to provide support after the fact to soften the blow as much as possible regarding the neural death these seizures will eventually cause.”            

               Everyone was quiet for a moment, and then Marvin spoke, “So you let the seizures kill his brain, or you over medicate him which could also potentially kill him. Isn’t this way too fucking dangerous? Haven’t you already-“

               Jackie grabbed Marvin’s knee, silencing him, “We’ll think about it. It’s a lot to take in, but we have to do whatever is best for Jack. Without him, what’s the point?”

               “We all have lives, people to protect,” Henrik said with a pointed look at Chase.

               “I don’t,” Marvin said. “And neither does Jameson. We’re here because of Jack, and that’s it. Maybe you and Chase have kids, and sure Jackie has the whole stupid city enamored with him, but not us.”

               “I don’t see how this is relevant,” Henrik said. “It isn’t as if none of us existed before he came into our lives. We simply have a very strong connection-“

               “And the same face,” Marvin said. “Yeah, totally coincidental. Listen, Henrik. I respect your opinion on medical matters, but I’d appreciate a little more respect from you when it comes to the metaphysical.”

               Henrik rubbed at his temples, “Fine fine,” he said. “I understand. Jack is extremely important. I love him as much as the rest of you. I just… if we could defeat Anti for good—actually get rid of him, wouldn’t that mean Jack would always be safe even if he is mildly damaged? Wouldn’t it be better for all of us, especially you and Jameson who Anti seems to be the most interested in tormenting this time around?”

               Jameson tapped his hand on the arm of his wheelchair. I don’t want to be used as the reason to put Jack in danger. Please don’t do that.

               Henrik’s cheeks reddened, “I’m not unreasonable. I see the rest of you want more proof, a more solid theory before we put any plan into action. I’m willing to comply. Just give me a few days. In the meantime, Marvin, you need to cleanse the house. We can’t all just stay here indeterminately. Once your strength is back the two of you take Chase home.”

               “I thought you wanted him with you,” Jackie said.

               “He’s an adult, and he’s requested to be released from my care.”

               Chase nodded, “He’s telling the truth. I have to get home, and I don’t want to get sedated again for having an unpopular opinion.”

               “Chase you were getting physically aggressive,” Henrik muttered.

               “Enough,” Jackie said. “This is getting old fast. We’ll take Chase home, and you’ll come home too, at least once a day, Schneep. Like you said, we shouldn’t be overtired, and we shouldn’t be spread so thin. If Anti shows up without you there I’m not going to be able to hold anybody’s veins together while we wait for the ambulance. That’s just a simple fact. I’m very clumsy.”

               “Once my magic is back together I can heal,” Marvin said. “But I’m not a doctor. I might be able to stop a blood geyser or mend a scraped knee but I’m not going to be setting any bones or curing a hangover.”

               “Detox,” Chase muttered.

               “What?”

               “I’m in detox. I’m not having a fucking hangover, ok? I’m not that much of a pussy. But thanks for your vote of confidence.”

               “Chase stop being so sensitive,” Marvin said. “We’ve all been through shit these past few days ok? Look at Jameson and tell him you’re detoxing.”

               Jameson looked up with sad eyes, once again being used as a pawn in someone else’s argument. He signed sorry to Chase, and Chase nodded.

               Jackie stood up, eager to interrupt another budding argument, “Come on, Marv. Let’s go try to find a good place to nap. The trauma waiting room had those long benches.”

               “Oh good, my beauty sleep,” Marvin said, but he yawned. “Jamie, do you want a ride?”

               Jameson waved them off with a forced smile, nodding to Henrik and wheeling himself over to Chase’s bed. Henrik left the room with a stiff gait, a lack of sleep and aging joints were catching up to him. He returned to his office for another long night of researching.

               I’m sorry about what Marvin said. It isn’t fair to compare us. Jameson told Chase. What you’re going through is just as dangerous, and it’s got to be hard, because you’re strong. You’re doing all of this for Jack and you have two little ones to worry about. He hesitated then, glancing at the open door. I’m sure Marvin didn’t mean what he said, but he was still wrong to say it. I hope we can talk again when I’m feeling better. I get these confounded jaw stitches out tomorrow and I can’t wait to look up again!

               Chase chuckled when Jameson made one of his exaggerated faces, “Thanks Jamie. You’re a good man too, you know. I’m sorry I doubted you so much when we first met.”

               Jamie smiled and shrugged What can you do? Goodnight Chase.

               “Goodnight,” Chase said, watching him go. He scooted down into the bed and closed his eyes, trying to ignore the dull nausea at the back of his throat. The IV was keeping him hydrated, and nutrients flowed the same way, but he both missed and dreaded the thought of food. How long had it been since he’d eaten a Pop-Tart? Or had a sip of whisky?

               Chase flinched away from that thought, “Jesus Chase don’t be an idiot. You’ve come this far already and things are bad enough without you thinking that way.”

               Whisky has always been a better friend than any of these bastards. Why don’t you just get your weak ass out of this stupid bed and go find some? It’s not like anybody is going to come looking for you. Even Jack knows you’re worthless now. You cracked under pressure like an egg.

               Chase covered his ears, “Fuck you, Anti. I know it’s you. Don’t waste your time.”

               There was no nagging laugh, no glitching in his ears, and Chase paused, wondering why Anti was being so shy all of the sudden.

#henrik von schneeplestein #jackieboy man #chase brody #jameson jackson #marvin the magnificent #fanfiction #Mayhem 2019 #Egopocalypse 2019 #JSE artist prompt

[kelpiebabyy]

My whole life all I’ve wanted was to feel loved and cherished by a man. Growing up without a father I thought it was fine but now that I’m an adult I realize what that actually did to me. I rely and put too much pressure on my relationships — I open up to fast, I fall in love to fast. I make things feel rushed I presume. I was never taught by my father to know what a good or bad mans traits are. I’m easily tricked by the beginning phase of dating that beginning charm all men have I fall in love with that and let all my walls collapse. I hate that about myself. I think that man is everything the most amazing and deserving human— I’m also an empath and psychologically in tune with my mind and others. I feel people’s trauma and pain and I think I can help heal the broken men I fall in love with. I cannot fix anyone that doesn’t want to be fixed. I cannot heal someone that isn’t open to heal. I fell so in love with a man that had a traumatic past similar to mine and that made me feel so close to him I loved this man with every ounce of my being .. the way he looked into my eyes it was of someone I had known my whole life. I naturally felt so safe and secure. I always said I feel like I’ve known him before meeting him. I did research and figured out what a twin flame was it sounded exact except the part where twin flames typically don’t last.. he was not someone i was willing to ever lose. The bond and connection we had could never be broken, without him I felt as if I’d combust in flames. Eventually he betrayed my trust and of course I forgave him. But it happened again, and again and again…. I started spiraling because why would he do this to me? Was I not enough I felt as if I was giving him so much of myself I was pushing him to reach his highest self.. why would you ever wonder off to see what other girls are out there? The amount of times I ended up fighting to prove myself to him to try to make him realize no one could love him the way I did was honestly terrifying and sickening. Why was I fighting so hard for a man that I guess didn’t want me, y’know? But he said he loves me so he must love me? These are the things I wasn’t taught, I don’t know how a man loves a women. I don’t know if there was a moment I ever stopped loving this man even when I felt absolute stripped of value and worth… the times I was crouched down on the floor crying begging for a reason or answer for why I am not enough for him to commit to me fully and love me. Fast forward to 4 years and I’m still in the same situation begging the same man to fucking chose me 100% just pick me love me. I love you more, I would literally do anything for you. I have always done anything and everything for you. For what reasons am I not worthy of your honesty, loyalty, respect, commitment and love? I sit here and think of all the bad things we have done to each other and I just don’t understand. I lost myself trying to constantly beg for bare minimum. I’ve always been everyone’s favorite person people always have adored me but for some reason why can’t you see me that way? Is it because I’m all fucked up and damaged now? You no longer can love the girl you destroyed by making her feel she was never quite good enough? Look at all these questions that still to this day have no answers. How will I ever love another man, when I gave you all the love I had and for some reason that never was good enough for you……… I know one day you will see me for all I was you will eventually see what happened and see where you went wrong to make us both lose ourselves. What I would do to just make you realize how beautiful life would’ve been and would be had you just gave me your true authentic self and committed to being mine and me being the only woman you needed. That the woman on social media that you flirted with would never still be here begging you to just wake up. I’m not perfect but had you just treated me right you’d think I was perfect because you’d literally be on a pedestal a king. I was supposed to be your queen, no one else.

[farfartothewestofeverywhere]

so as you may have gathered from my personal posts on here – i live at home with my parents because I'm a loser and I can't financially support myself.

which actually...wouldn't be SO horrible (if it weren't for the intense embarrassment and shame)...but then during this pandemic i had an awakening about my mother's emotional abuse.

anyway. my mom was awful for a LOT of this lockdown/pandemic. she was just unbearable. to everyone...but especially despicable to my dad (who she doesn't love anymore. and with some research into narcissistic/other personality disorders – I'm not sure she's capable of love).

so my dad and I (he's...comparatively better than her. as in. he hasn't abused me. but he's politically.....not great. and there's a lot of tension there every time we don't ignore politics/religion etc.) but anyway – he's not cruel and manipulative. so he's got THAT going for him.

anyway. post-vaccine (woo! yay vaccines!) (oh yeah – and my mom is refusing to get vaccinated.) we decided to go on vacation. it was an impulse vacation actually because of one of the few helpful things my therapist has said. I kept trying to convince my mom to "leave" – like go on a mini-vacation, visit her sister, etc. So WE could have a break from her toxicity. She didn't bite. So my therapist was like – why don't YOU guys go somewhere? And...we did. Amazing vacation.

But anyway we're back now. I can handle mom in...some doses. She has potential to be not horrible. She likes some good tv shows. We watched Lucifer together. Tolerable together time.

But I still have my limits with her. She is not any better. She is working on some self-discovery stuff. But she's definitely not working on the parts of her that are harmful to the people in her life. So here I am...home for half a week. And I'm already back to wanting her to go away.

I mean...thank goodness all of my friends are vaccinated and we're starting to make plans. So I have some escape. But...I'm still unemployed. Still very mentally and physically ill. And there seems to be no way out for me. I keep seeing posts about how you can't heal from trauma if you're still living in the traumatic situation. I'm still living with my abuser. So. Yeah. Never going to heal while I'm living here.

But also. I genuinely believe I'm too emotionally fragile and unsafe to NOT live with the safety net and security my parents are providing. Like. I am VERY unwell. But I genuinely don't know if living with my mother is hurting me MORE than the security of having a place to live and other necessities covered. I don't know.

I lived on my "own" with still heavy support from my Dad's money – but my health just plummeted. I was so lonely. And didn't feel safe being on my own. As fucked up as my mom is...to whatever extent...I can rely on her. I'm still fucked up enough that I don't feel......worthy enough to truly put myself out there for my friends. And actually even the rest of my family. I am a BURDEN. Believe me – that "you're not a burden" stuff is bullshit to me. I only feel comfortable burdening my parents with myself. It's their fault I'm alive and in this bullshit world. A lot of my problems are SUPER their fault. So I don't feel guilty existing and being fully in their lives.

My friends and other family though? I absolutely cannot be all in with them. I am too much. There is too much pain and endless cycles of nothing getting any better. People don't need a repetitive/broken record "friend" that isn't worth the effort. Believe me. No one wants me.

You know all that rhetoric around "surround yourself with positive people?" – I'm the person you avoid and distance yourself from. I'm the person you cut out of your life. If I was ever 100% true and not holding back I would ruin every life I touch with misery.

So I try to give people only the best parts of me. With a little misery mixed in. But they are only seeing the tip of the iceberg. And I'm pretty sure even that is too much for people to handle.

So anyway. I'm stuck with my abusive mother because noone else will want me. Wow isn't THAT some damaged abused bullshit. But also. I'm 100% sure it's true.