#i was ORIGINALLY gonna say that it was only one out of many symptoms you could have but then i actually looked at the criteria and | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wawawawawawawawawawawawawa · 8 months

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i'm on my aspd izaya bullshit again but like. thru this lens, isnt his arc a perfect encapsulation on how aspd negatively affects the person that has it? even to this day, many professionals do not believe that pwASPD suffer from aspd. like at all. to the point where aspd was specifically listed as an outlier to the "patient distress is what defines a disorder" rule in an abnormal psych textbook

(see why i don't respect the field?)

but... he does suffer! a lot! like- remember his speech to mikado at the end of the first arc? how you need to keep evolving, keep changing in order to escape the mundane? how you have to keep going and going and going, wether it be aiming high or low?

yeah. normal people don't need to do this, izaya. you are a broken person.

but why SHOULD he be content with the mundane? the things people usually have that make them content with daily life- friends, family, a purpose, a distinct lack of extreme chronic boredom that drives you to do completely insane shit- izaya doesn't HAVE any of that!

"wait, chronic boredom?" i hear yall thinking. maybe. "isnt that an adhd thing?"

more than one disorder can have the same symptom. theres like a billion that have "want to die" as a symptom. but i dont really blame you for not knowing, its not talked about much

studies have shown that aspd and adhd are both problems with the dopamine receptors in the brain. more specifically, adhd is a chronic deficiency of dopamine, whereas with aspd, when you DO get dopamine, your brain gives you quardruple the normal amount.

studies have ALSO shown there to be a sort of... adhd to aspd pipeline. the story goes like this: you have a kid with adhd. maybe they're born like that, maybe the symptoms developed from trauma (which can happen? apparently??) anyway. kid gets abused. kid develops conduct disorder as a result of that abuse, as a natural extension of the existing adhd symptoms. they're MORE impulsive, which leads to them hurting others- and if it sets off the dopamine receptors, an abused kid starving for happiness and power is gonna chase it, no matter what. theyre like, six, they dont know anything about like. morality. all they know is, theyre sad and this makes them happy. anyway kid never gets treated, abuse continues to exasperate the symptoms, and now you have an adult with aspd, AND the original adhd diagnosis! and ptsd, which is HIGHLY comorbid with aspd! and probably another personality disorder, because you're actually statistically more likely to have two of them!

anyway! that's ONE of the ways aspd can develop from trauma, which it is Known To Do.

does any of that sound pleasant to go through? at all?

let me ask you a question:

imagine you aren't getting dopamine. maybe it's your adhd. maybe you're depressed. either way, you try to get it any way you can. wether it's throwing yourself into a hobby or a job, so the sense of satisfaction gives you dopamine, or something like drugs or gambling.

now, imagine that "rush" you felt. was Four Times Stronger.

wouldnt that compel you to do increasingly dangerous and risky shit, just to feel okay? imagine if you had no friends. imagine if this was your only way to be happy. wouldnt you, eventually, stop caring about others and only care about yourself? after all, other people have thinga like friends and a family that you don't have. they have a fallback. you only have this.

and you might say, "i'd never do that!" but every addict says that, and most eventually cross that line out of sheer desperation. and this? effectively makes you into a dopamine addict. which is dangerous! you can't just STOP... gettng dopamine....! it's necessary! but you have no help so you keep doing what youre doing. (and how could you get help? its baked into the system that people like you don't suffer. why try if youll just get burned?

anyway, back to izaya.

he's lonely. he has one friend and he sucks. he feels compelled to do these things even though he KNOWS it'll hurt him.

i stole this screenshot from some1 who insulted my friend once for something stupid <3 die

but it illustrates my point very well! does it look like he has much control over things?? he sure like to ACT like he does, but at the end of the day, he doesn't, really. he ends up spiraling more and more, doing increasingly risky and rash things, just to get his end goal... which is to die and ascend to the afterlife. a lofty goal.

aiming high, isn't he? a final, spectacular evolution.

or, it should have been.

but it wasn't.

izaya's impulses and deep desire to continue becoming more and more drastic, coupled with his lack of personal ties to anyone that could keep him from doing so....

it didn't make him ascend. it left him in a wheelchair, with chronic pain that will last his whole life.

THAT is where mental illness takes you. it doesn't make you a hollywood psychopath, reveling in the destruction you chose, of your own free will, wholly and truly, to cause. it makes you want More. no matter what, you need More. you see people content with lives worse than yours, everyone bound together with some sort of invisible thread, some sort of tie that keeps them together. a thread that missed you. your brain refuses to see people as people, thus you remain lonely forever, unsatiafied wirh company other than the superficial, because it's fun. that's all you're allowed to care about. an endless cycle of bigger and bigger actions, impulses slowly getting worse--

--and the worst part is, it tricks you into believing you ever had a choice. it tricks everyone into believing you had a choice. your suffering is worse than disregarded, to all the people you look at from your apartment, all the people you wish you could have been like.

it's nonexistant.

#durarara #izaya orihara #orihara izaya #🔥🔥 BE FUCKING NORMAL ABOUT ASPD ON THIS POST OR I SWEAR TO GOD I WILL BECOME THE JOKER ON YOUR ASS 🔥🔥#waposts #we r back with classic waposting complete w too many parentheses and paragraph breaks #peace and love on planet tumblr

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justice-flonne · 2 months

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Twitter and the death of Media Literacy

As the original post now has reblogs turned off before this post came out of the queue, looks like I have to make my own

Lemme tackle picture number 2 first. Number one, what the HELL do you mean "normal mentally ill [woman]"?? There's no such thing. There's not even such a thing as normal non-mentally ill. Everyone is different and has different reactions and symptoms. and number two: where the fuck do you get off calling the author a sex pest for the "crime" of exploring her options in brothels (well, i guess maybe it is a crime, i forget how japan's laws are, but still. i better not hear you demanding more rights for sex workers while indirectly demeaning their jobs, ya nitwit)? Being gay (or even just non-conforming, and that's not even just about gender) in Japan, while not as bad as say, the Middle East, is not exactly a walk in the park. She probably at the time of writing didn't have many options, and everybody explores their sexuality in different ways. It's really messed up that you're calling the author a sex pest for describing her life, especially since she did nothing wrong (as in, her encounters were all consensual. again, don't fully know the laws regarding brothels there. i think it's a "we'll pretend we didn't see that" scenario)

This also kinda ties into the downright dangerous idea that an lgbt+ person, lesbians especially, can only be an innocent pure being. that kind of thinking can and HAS gotten people into horrible abuse scenarios

As for the "incest"... whoo boy, this is gonna be long:

Now, I have actually read this manga, and I can cite the pages with the supposed "incest" mentioned in the first pic. I'd elaborate, but I'm admittedly quite bad at that, so I'll let the comic speak for itself:

(forgive me if there's any errors in the alt text. it's late 😭)

As you can see, the author does not LITERALLY want to fuck her mother. She has childhood issues from not enough affection (elaborated elsewhere in the book, but I'm tired. read it yourself. i got these pages from a definitely legal website, so can you), and wants to be held and coddled. She even straight up says what she feels is abnormal and yearns for a woman NOT RELATED TO HER to do things with. She KNOWS what she feels is strange and wants to (and eventually DOES) grow from this. I could post more images, but i'm probably pushing my luck as is

Point is, you "adults" really, REALLY need to learn that depiction is not the same as endorsement. Not everything is as cut and dry as the Marquis de Sade. This is, as the damn title says, the author's experience with loneliness as a result of growing up with an emotionally distant mother in a society that is markedly different than America

please, PLEASE, learn to think critically, and i mean "critical" in a "english class analysis" kind of way (for lack of a better term), not a "this thing you like is bad and it offends me" "critical." It's alright to be uncomfortable with things and even to not like things, hell I myself am a HUGE hater, but please, don't throw a tantrum because a real person wasn't a smol bean like you hoped

holy shit i need to go to bed

#my lesbian experience with loneliness #nagata kabi #media illiteracy #mental illness #abuse #we're all living in amerika #good grief #lgbt #twitter #this is at least partly due to the tumblr exodus so it's not fair to pin it all on twitter #but i'm gonna anyway

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all-things-ghostly · 3 months

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The Beast of the Blood Moon

Werebat! Alistair Crump x GN Reader

Warning! This fic probably isn’t going to be for everyone! Aside from the end, it’s a little dark - CW for somewhat graphic transformation (starts with the first ~~~ below the cut and ends at the second), Alistair having a bad time, animal death and consumption, blood, small reader injury.

~~~

Okay I was originally not gonna post this and just keep it to myself because I thought it was too niche but then I remembered what kinda people Alistair fans are and went through with it anyway LMAO

I apologize if it drags on or feels like a mouthful. I had used this as an opportunity to practice description-heavy fics instead of relying on dialogue so I don’t have as much experience with this. Please be nice to me lmao I’ve been kinda beating myself up during the writing process-

With Alistair’s death came an array of changes. In many ways, he hardly resembled the person he was when he was alive. His form had gone from decently built to thin and skeletal, grey skin pulled tightly over it without much muscle mass left. It was difficult for him to move how he used to, especially without the support of his cane, which is why he was almost always floating and rarely walking. The structure of his face was completely different - everything was all sunken, uncanny, and corpse-like. There was so much he could point out that he didn’t like about his new body, but we’d be here for too long.

Needless to say, he looked like a monster. He felt like a monster.

And after a while, he actually started to become one.

Alistair thought that death would be the end of it all, but he couldn’t be further from the truth. Throughout his first few years of ghosthood, Alistair only continued changing. The first thing he noticed was his teeth - they had initially begun to straighten themselves out a bit, which made Alistair happy, but that was only so that they could get bigger. Much bigger. And sharper. This had especially impacted his canines, which had grown long and pointed, so much that they barely even fit in his mouth anymore.

Then came the rapid claw growth. Whenever Alistair cut his nails, he would wake up the next morning to find them the exact same length they were before. He couldn’t do anything to stop it. Eventually, he just gave up and let them do their own thing, at which point they stopped growing at a certain length and instead became reinforced into strong, durable, sharp claws. To be honest, Alistair quite liked them. It was one of the few new changes he actually didn’t mind that much.

The worst thing, however, were the blood moons.

Full moons nourished Alistair. They gave him strength and power beyond imagination. Lunar eclipses, on the other hand, slowly became his downfall. The first one he experienced after his death made him feel nauseous with a slight toothache, and that was about the worst of it. But with each consecutive blood moon, the symptoms got worse. He got brain fog. White fur started growing on his chest and limbs. His cloak would painfully fuse to his back. Luckily it all went away in the morning, but the experiences left Alistair dreading the next blood moon.

The 13th eclipse was the peak of it all.

That was the night the spirit truly lost himself. The night he transformed into something far more horrific than he could have ever imagined. It absolutely terrified Alistair to have no control over his body like that.

Every time he transformed into that… thing, Alistair only started hating himself more. For years and years he tried to deal with it, but nothing could ever tame the beast within him.

Then, a century later… a new mortal moved in.

~~~ You glance outside the window and check on the position of the moon. It’s almost midnight, when the effect will fully set in. Behind you Alistair clutches his heart and leans against the wall. He looks to be in pain.

Alistair has never told you exactly what happens to him on lunar eclipses. He’s mentioned it to you before, especially in recent times as the eclipse drew closer, but he would always hide the exact details. It’s something he’s always been self conscious about and refuses to elaborate on. All you know is that whatever happens to the ghost is supposedly very dangerous, for you and for others.

You’re lost in quiet contemplation as you stare out the window, feeling sorrow for poor Alistair, when suddenly a loud crash and thud behind you tears you away from your thoughts. Turning around frightfully, you notice that Alistair has collapsed and is leaning propped up against the wall. His hat is crooked and he’s panting heavily like he’s in severe distress. You rush away from the window, getting down on the floor so you can be eye level to him.

“What’s going on? Are you alright?” You ask, putting a hand on his shoulder. The texture of his cloak beneath your hand catches your attention. Looking at it, you notice that it’s begun to change shape and feels more… organic than usual.

“Y/n, please, I told you that you need to leave,” Alistair pleads with you between grunts of pain. “I won’t be myself. I won’t remember who you are. There’s no way for me to guarantee that you will be safe, that I won’t hurt you. You cannot stay here, please.”

In a sudden and startling turn of events, Alistair cries out, gripping his head with his claws. Something is happening to him that makes you immediately pull your hand away from his shoulder and scurry back…

His cloak…

It’s starting to move on its own.

The way it moves reminds you of something from a horror movie, like bones snapping into impossible, grotesque positions. Accompanying the rigid movements of the cape is a sickening cracking noise that makes your stomach turn. Throughout it all, Alistair starts to scream, as the fabric is quite literally welding itself into his body and becoming a part of him.

“I said leave, Y/n!” He shouts once more, falling onto his hands and knees. Alistair’s form trembles violently, and with yet another cry, what was once his cape fully transforms into a massive set of bat wings with an impressive wingspan. The wings spread out wide in an intimidating spectacle while Alistair continues to struggle.

Hurried footsteps pound down the eastern hallway, and in comes one of the mansion’s ghostly servants, attracted by the noise. She takes a second to assess the situation and notices Alistair convulsing on the floor. Her face falls. Then she notices you.

“Oh! Er— come here, dear,” she urges, nervously scurrying over to you and gently grabbing your wrist. Her eyes are filled with deep fear and concern. “Let’s go. I know a safe place you can hide for the night.”

She tries guiding you away, but you resist. All you care about right now is Alistair. The poor man appears to be suffering immensely at the hands of his transformation. Right now, he’s currently attempting to push himself up off the ground, but he’s too weak and just falls over again with a little whine.

“Alistair…” you mumble.

Sensing your sympathy, the servant’s eyes soften into a gentle expression. “I know you’re worried about him, but he will be alright in the morning. Now come on, right this way, right this way…”

She starts to softly pull on your arm, leaving you no choice but to follow her and leave Alistair behind. The last thing you see is him keeling over before you get dragged out of the room and brought into one of the guest rooms down the hall.

Now, Alistair is left all alone in the foyer of the mansion. Aside from his wails, the house is completely silent, since all of the other inhabitants have hidden away for the night. There was no one to help him as he went through the next stage of the awful transformation. Unfortunately for him, the wings were only the beginning. He barely even got a minute of relief before he felt that dreadfully familiar burning sensation deep inside of his body.

Snap.

Bones began to break and expand at unnatural rates in order for his form to change. His spine grew longer and more jagged, making his frame tall and imposing. The bones in his legs snapped and reformed to become digitigrade like that of a wild beast. Additionally, Alistair’s arms and bony hands became larger in order to support a nasty set of vicious claws that could effortlessly tear into prey. Even his very skull began to warp and change into something more animalistic. It was awful. Alistair’s throat was starting to hurt from all the yelling and after a while the only sounds he could make were strained, guttural cries.

Not to mention the way his flesh had to grow to match his new skeletal structure. Though he maintained his lean shape, his arms and legs became more muscular, as well as his back muscles that helped propel those massive wings of his. Alistair could hardly describe what it felt like, but the way that his cells had to rapidly mutate beyond human capability was insufferable. Mostly, it felt like a hellish burning. But there was also a strange, stinging-aching feeling associated with his insides stretching out and body changing shape. For the last step in the body mutation, a pair of large bat ears sprouted from his head, and he gained the last few kinds of animalistic features he needed: paw pads on the bottoms of his feet, a proper bat muzzle, and even larger fangs, to name a few.

Finally, it was over. The hard part, anyway. His fur still needed to grow in but that was painless.

Alistair, completely exhausted, laid curled up on his side, trembling and whimpering pitifully. He struggled to catch his breath after everything that just happened and panted like a wounded animal. Scattered all around him were the remnants of his clothes that had burst at the seams during his transformation. Suddenly he was glad everybody left the room, otherwise they’d have… quite the view.

While he rested, his beautiful fur coat started to grow out, starting at his limbs and torso and continuing to spread from there. The fur was longest on his chest and crotch area (which worked in his favor, considering he had no clothes on that would otherwise cover things up) and it was surprisingly soft. It was almost funny how soft he was considering how the rest of him just seemed so monstrous.

For the first couple of minutes, Alistair did nothing but lay still and breathe. He was still very spent and needed a minute to adjust to his new form as a werebat. But it wouldn’t last for long. Because he knew that very shortly, the hunger would set in. Hunger so insatiable that he would do anything to feel warm blood and flesh beneath his fangs.

Just at that moment, his bat nose twitched when he caught the scent of something far in the distance. He sniffed the air a few times to get a better feel for it… some sort of large prey in the woods behind the mansion. His maw started foaming immediately, he just couldn’t help it… whatever was out there should surely be enough to sustain him for the night.

Alistair, with newfound vigor, starts to push himself up off the ground. At first, he feels very unsteady since he’s not adjusted to his body yet, but animal instinct quickly takes over and he rises to his feet. Standing at just over 7 feet tall, Alistair’s werebat form is an absolute menace. His animalistic mind has now been completely consumed by bloodthirstiness and the idea of his next meal. Assuming an aggressive position, Alistair puffs his chest out, spreads his wings, and flares his claws, just before releasing a screeching cry so shrill that it echoes throughout every hall of the mansion, shaking the very foundation it rests upon.

Immediately after he calls out, Alistair rears his head and charges at the mansion’s front door. It shatters effortlessly against his mighty form, and with that the giant bat escapes the mansion unharmed, flying into the night in search of his prey.

~~~

“Come on, come on…”

The beam of light coming from your flashlight sputters and flickers from what you assume is low battery, or perhaps old age. You give it a good few hard smacks. Now is hardly the time for it to malfunction.

The spirits of the mansion had kept you sequestered away in one of the guest rooms for about an hour, trying to defend you from Alistair. And, while you appreciated their concern, you were worried about him. From the room you were in you could hear his pained, miserable screams.

Which meant that you also heard the sound of him destroying the front door and fleeing.

Since all of the other spirits were hiding away in their own separate places, it was rather easy for you to sneak out unnoticed. All you took with you was a flashlight and a small dagger, just in case. Not that you could ever use it on Alistair. It just made you feel a little safer wandering into a dark, wooded area knowing that you had a weapon with you.

The flashlight beam finally stabled itself out after the last hit. You point it out into the tangled woods behind the mansion and try to find any evidence of Alistair. Considering he flew, it’s not like you could go off of animal tracks or anything, so it was proving to be a little difficult. But you were determined to find him.

Finally, you start to take some hesitant steps into the forest. The trees had grown long and twisted, some of them even being over a century old, which blocked out the moonlight and made it even more difficult to see. All you really had going for you lighting-wise was some crappy flashlight that was likely crusted over with battery acid. The forest also had that typical Louisiana humidity to it, even at night. You had to shoo off more mosquitos than you would have liked.

You walk for quite a bit of time, shining your flashlight over the ground and trees, before you find anything. The first sign you noticed were deer tracks on the dark soil. Not necessary anything related to bats, but you instinctively feel like you should follow them anyways. They seem to go on for a far, far distance, all in one direction, as if the creature was running from something…

Suddenly, you start to feel a bit paranoid.

You even began having second thoughts about turning back. Still, though, all you could think about was Alistair. He was somewhere all alone out here, stuck in a monstrous body he couldn’t control. Something could happen to him; what if he got shot?

You have to pull through, for him. So against everything telling you not to, you keep trekking through the woods.

At one point in the trail, there was a moment where the tracks suddenly stopped. Instead, there was a spot where dirt, leaves, and soil seemed to be scattered and kicked around, forming a large messy crater in the ground. Usually, you would’ve thought nothing of it, but for some reason it felt deeply off-putting.

After staring at it for a moment, you hesitantly decide to keep walking forwards. But it doesn’t get any better. Now, there is a large, long streak in the ground, as if something had been dragged through the dirt. You shine your flashlight over it, and notice something even worse splattered through the foliage…

Blood.

The sound of shifting leaves in front of you makes you jump out of your skin. You don’t dare look up.

The beam of your flashlight starts to waver from the way your hands begin to shake. More odd noises come from just a few yards away… snarfing, growling, noisy chewing. You already know what it is but you don’t want to look, you don’t want to look, you can’t look at it don’t look at it don’t look it at it—

Your flashlight sputters. Then flickers.

Then dies.

Oh, of course.

The flashing light seems to attract the attention of the beast in front of you. Without your only light source, it’s so dark that you can barely make out the silhouettes… and a pair of glowing yellow eyes bearing right into you.

Very, very slowly, you try to step away. The creature continues to stare unblinkingly at you as you move, keeping a large, clawed paw on the half-eaten deer carcass in front of it. Even as it lowers its head back down to take another huge bite, its eyes never leave you. You don’t know what to do. You can’t move.

You stand there very still for the next good few minutes. In that time the beast has managed to reduce the cervidae to nothing but a pile of bones. When it finishes eating and licks its maw, you hope that it will lose interest in you and walk away. But of course not. Instead, it stands up to its full height and starts creeping right over to you, the slits of its pupils so slim that you can hardly even see them.

For a moment, it steps into the moonlight, allowing you to see it clearly.

It’s Alistair, alright.

Looks like you found him after all.

Even as a werebat, something about its appearance makes you immediately recognize it to be him. Perhaps it’s the somewhat messy white fur that covers his body, fading into a grey color in a gradient manner towards his forearms and shins. Or it could be those giant dark grey wings that remind you so much of his cloak. His face, ears, hands and feet were a slightly lighter shade of grey than the wings, reminding you of his usual sickly skin tone… but most importantly, it might be those eyes of his. Those soul-piercing yellow eyes that could make the blood of even the bravest being run cold. You would recognize them anywhere.

You do your best to stay still as he approaches you. It might sound stupid, but you feel like running would only trigger him more. Alistair comes up to you, his massive figure towering over your shaking body, and you feel like this could be the end.

He leans down and gets so close to you that you can see the individual blood stains on his fur. But surprisingly, he doesn’t attack right away. Instead, his snout buries into your hair, and then your neck, sniffing around… he seems curious about you. Eventually he pulls back and grabs your wrist.

“Um, okay,” you stammer, scared absolutely shitless but following him as he drags you off to a small cave just nearby. It looks to almost be like… his den? The inside is decorated with various bones and skulls, as well as beautiful vines along the walls and some baskets full of fruit or other little snacks. Alistair pulls you over to a large pile of animal pelts towards the back of the cave and sets you down gently. Perhaps it’s his nest?

You’re feeling very confused. Especially when he plops down next to you and starts sniffing at your neck again and clothes again. Alistair’s face scrunches in confusion, as if he’s trying to place something, when suddenly he pauses and looks right into your eyes, his slit pupils dilating into a more gentle expression of recognition.

He remembers you.

It’s like a switch is flipped. Alistair’s large, strong arms pick you up and place you right into his lap, where he continues to examine you. Even if his brain is too fogged over to remember what you look like, he seems to recognize you by your scent alone. Which is honestly just really adorable.

He then carefully lifts you up so that you’re eye level and starts to rub his soft head along your face and neck. It reminds you of a cat rubbing itself along your legs to mark its scent on you, which is essentially the same thing he’s doing. It’s fascinating to see how differently he shows his affection in a more animalistic form - he may have a more feral, primitive mind now, but he still has his ways of showing that he loves you. After he deems you sufficiently marked, Alistair buries his soft little muzzle into the crook of your neck again…

…and then bites.

No, not like a cute little nibble or anything. He sinks his fangs right in and breaks the skin, just at the spot between your neck and shoulder. Considering how he showed no signs of hostility beforehand, you’re completely taken by surprise. In fact, you don’t even register the pain at first because you’re so shocked.

He holds his fangs there for about 10 seconds and then slowly lets go. Left just next to your shoulder is a massive, bleeding bite from his fangs. Your eyes are still widened in complete shock, but Alistair seems unphased. He was just acting on natural instinct.

See, the bite wasn’t meant to hurt you. He had actually carefully adjusted the force of it to where it would break the skin and engrave deeply but not cause any permanent damage to the nerves or flesh. Instead, he made it just deep enough to create a permanent scar on a visible area of your body. He was giving you a mating bite - a mark on you that would show everyone, both human and beast, that you were his.

Alistair’s long tongue gently laps at the wound to clean it. His saliva seems to be numbing it for you, lessening some of the stinging pain left behind (and, as a bonus, he gets a little snack out of the blood). The werebat seems to know that his fangs hurt and is now acting very tenderly towards you to make up for it. His tongue works diligently until the bite mark naturally clots and is ready to be properly treated later.

Once he’s finished, Alistair makes a low growling noise and leans back onto his nest with you on top of him. His large arms wrap tightly around your body and hold you so close that your face gets smothered in his long chest fur. Breathing him in, you notice that he has somewhat of a woodsy musk smell to him. It’s honestly quite pleasant. He starts to purr, a deep, rumbling purr that you can feel the vibrations of as you rest on top of his fluffy underbelly.

“Oh, well… I guess you’re actually a little bit cute,” you mumble at him, freeing an arm so you can scratch him underneath his ear. Alistair’s purring gets louder, and his eyes start to close in pure contentment. It’s… really, really adorable. Normally, Alistair would get pissed off if you tried babying him like this. But right now? Just like any other creature, he could never deny some good scritches.

The cute little (or rather, not so little) monster nudges up against you like he wants more. Who are you to deny him? You take both hands and start rubbing his soft face, even giving him a little kiss on the nose, which makes his big bat ears twitch. Now, under your touch, he’s no more intimidating than a lap dog.

Alistair especially loves it when you start to pet and scratch his fluffy belly. His purrs become so loud and deep that it reminds you of a dinosaur. His large bat body stretches out to expose himself as best as he can to you for more rubs, his leg kicking joyously when he receives them. He just feels so… relaxed.

He wasn’t used to that. Feeling relaxed. Not only in werebat form, but as regular old Alistair Crump, too. Normally he was much too shut in and reserved to let someone get close to him, nevertheless touch him. And as a werebat, Alistair was constantly under the stress of trying to control his violence and rampages. He has never once been able to just settle down and let someone pet him like this.

Perhaps that just means that you’re someone he feels safe around.

After a while, you notice him starting to yawn. The large bat looks very sleepy, having been relaxed by your gentle, comforting touch. Alistair makes another little purring sound and pulls you close once more. His warm tongue starts to sweetly lick at your lips, almost like he’s giving you his own little version of kisses to thank you for all of the affection you gave him.

Finally, he settles down and wraps his arms and wings against you, cuddling you as if you were his own little stuffed animal. You notice that as he drifts off to sleep, his eyes are gentle and dilated. It’s a sign of how calm he is. The calmest and tamest the beast has ever been.

Maybe, all this time, he only needed a gentle and understanding mate.

And who better to fit the part than you?

#alistair crump #hatbox ghost #haunted mansion #haunted mansion 2023 #my writing #alistair crump x reader #werebat #monster x human #monster x reader #the haunted mansion #hatbox ghost x reader

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millenniumfae · 5 months

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Dragon Age Demons vs Real-Life 'Inner Demons'

Way back in the summer of 2015, my symptoms got so unbearable I was bedridden. 20 years old and experiencing psychosis, quasi-hallucinations, and actual, unending panic for the first time. It marked the start of a condition that has never stopped since.

My aunt (and other relatives) helped me develop proper mindfulness skills based off of our homeland's folk Buddhism - the 'second arrow'. The meaningless of forgiveness. Devaluing control. And something that struck me as a new Dragon Age fan … 'Possession'.

Well, when translated to english, you'll find texts using the word 'insight' rather than 'possession'. But that's the word my mom translated from off the top of her head, and it immediately resonated with me.

"Imagine your panic as an inner creature. Something that is also you, but is acting independently. Treat your panic with kindness and mentorship, not antagonism. The more you struggle in the spider's web, the worse things get. But if you nourish what's hurting in you, let them tantrum, then come back in to nurture."

Up until the 2010s, the most acclaimed mental health books you could buy written in the english language would most certainly be christianity-influenced. Maybe not overtly, (but you'd be surprised how many have a chapter about "insert-book-topic-here and Christ") but there's little hints like how the reader must have left home at 18 to avoid mooching off their parents, or how to 'turn guilt into something productive' (???), the use of the word 'gamble' as a bad word, etc. But these books tend to include a chapter that would be some weird bullshit like "The Dark Souls Of Respawning?? What Daoism Says About Immortality" and take a brief moment to talk about the radical, never-before-heard-of methods from across the pacific that Will Turn Your World Upside Down.

Behavior therapists (of the 1950s) were aware insights about the origins of the problem usually weren't helpful. Exposure to the thing the patient feared was often curative. -When Panic Attacks by David D. Burns MD, Chapter 18, "Taking a page from the Tibetan Book of the Dead"

Now, it's no secret that the Dragon Age serial is very. Um. Christian. Catholic, specifically. Faith is written to be an unequivocally redeeming trait. Attempts at inventing fake elf/qunari/Tevinter 'religions' still have them be belief-based, colonialist, and conversion-heavy, while also at the same time implying that the 'Maker' of Chantry faith is the single actual true god.

So it's no surprise that the demons and spirits of DA are very seven-deadly-sins. Party banter and side-quests do point out the euro/christian-centricity of this demon categorization (Merrill, Solas), but that doesn't mean shit if, in overall story and gameplay proper, Pride is the most powerful demon while Faith is virtue at all.

So here I am, lying in bed and only capable of just riding the waves of panic day after torturous day. You bet I'm gonna try to geek-erize my symptoms. If people do it with Jesus, then I can do it with Dragon Age.

Enter Vigilance the Spirit. I was an at-risk young Rivani mage, so their Magic Welfare Government helped me join their クサビ-依り代 program and matched me with a spirit to induce possession. Can't boil two skulls in one pot, so to speak. I could have chosen to do their hemispherectomy program (I am made Tranquil but carry around a piece of the Fade like a pacemaker that keeps me perfectly lucid, only turning off when I sleep), but that comes with its own risks.

But it doesn't take much for a spirit of Vigilance to do a 180 and become Panic. They're still Vigilance, and I am still me, but the taste in the mouth is different. Our life will need to adapt.

I will not kick myself for 'failing' my friend. Vigilance has turned to Panic, yes. But they have always been one. Now, so are me and Panic. Such is the nature of spirits.

If I am kind to my spirit, then I am kind to myself. It's what we both deserve.

#dragon age #DAI #DA2 #da:o #da: origins #da:d #dragon age dreadwolf #dragon age discussion #dragon age meta

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sophieinwonderland · 8 months

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People can have their own opinions on things. I just wanted to provide my own input as well, to show that there's many different sides to this. Sorry for any misspellings, dyslexia. Also this turned into a vent so you don't have to reply, Sophie. None of the feelings directed at the anon.

As a tranz person and someone who identifoies as plural, I don't think the term sysmed is transphobic. As long as it's used as the original definition, it describes exactly what it is: a person who believes that systems are only ever "real" systems if they're medically recognised, but usually only if they're diagnosed with DID/OSDD. Tbh even then they get really nitpicky with it and you can be medically recognised and they will still fakeclaim you for something.

It doesn't matter that it's the same as the word "transmed" with just the trans part changed, because the word means exactly what it implies. A system medicalist. That's what they are.

I know that it's not the same as trans issues, but they're not the same things, so ofc they won't have the same issues. And even if we tranz people are discriminated in a lot of ways, including not being able to transition, and transmedicism refers to that last part specifically, systems are also discriminated against by saying they don't EXIST. That's not the same as being able to transition or be recognised as who you are, but tbh, saying you're not real and being sent death threats and being ostracised by your family and friends and society in general cuts deep and it IS still real pain. Just because it's not as palpable because it's not always a visible, physical issue doesn't make it less discriminative.

I find that pain of being told I shouldn't exist, that I'm not allowed to exist, that I am hurting others by existing and taking away resources from other "real" people absolutely vile. And I need a term to describe that pain. When singlets see people saying that shit on TikTok, they accept it word for word just because it came from other systems and because they don't wanna be offensive and side with the "fakers". By calling everyone either "anti-endo" or "pro-endo" or "endo-neutral", we're making it up to sound like a fucking game where you can pick and choose whether you support someone's rights to exist as themselves in a public space.

You cannot choose to go "well I don't agree with your existence so I'm just gonna decide you don't exist/don't deserve to exist/don't deserve to get medical treatment, actually" and expect people to go "yeah that's cool you're just anti-(insert thing) we can agree to disagree." Systems are still quite covert in public spaces. And sysmeds PAINT THE IMAGE OF HOW THE PUBLIC SEES US, and therefore bow it treats us.

My existence is not something you can just disagree on. Not my trans one, not my plural one. You cannot deny it from me, from us. I exist, get over it or get the fuck out of my way. All of us or none of us.

I'm not gonna call someone who says all that to me an anti-endo because it doesn't go deep enough (and it's not even a correct term every single time beacse ANY kind of system gets discriminated against by sysmeds, not just purely endogenic ones). I'm gonna call that person a sysmedicalist.

I wouldn't call a person telling me I'm not really trans because I don't have dysphoria anti-trans, I would call them a transmed.

I wouldn't call someone telling me that because I don't experience every single symptom in the DSM-5 manual an anti-endo, I would call them a sysmed.

Not meaning to imply that anon thinks any of the things I just said, by the way, this all turned into a giant rant. We can agree to disagree on the term part, I respect that.

But my opinion is that the term sysmed in an on itself is not transphobic. it doesn't minimise the pain we go through. It just described a plural specific type of issue that funnily enough tends to mirror plural issues when you really think about it. And it's important to me to have that kind of word that doesn't make my discrimination sound like an opinion, but like the bigoted view that it is.

Have a good day, anon, and you too, Sophie :)

This is a great addition! Thank you for sharing! And you have a good day too! 💖

#syscourse #pro endo #pro endogenic #multiplicity #system discourse #system medicalism #sysmeds #sysmed discourse #lgbt discourse #transmed discourse #trans #lgbt #lgbtq #systems #actually a system

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neurotypical-sonic · 1 year

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It's interesting that you bring up ableism and internalised ableism as a parallel between Shadow and Tails because I have a headcanon that since we don't really know how the rest of the ARK took to Shadow compared to Maria, Gerald and the Commander, while he was at least accepted by his adoptive sister, the other inhabitants were afraid of him and/or didn't treat him like an actual person due to his origins, similar to how Tails was ostracized for his polymelia

Oh SO many thoughts on this. I really want to write I proper in depth post at some point but I want to answer this NOW so just uhhh very roughly for now:

SHADOW. His particular brand of internalised ableism does stem from how he was treated on the Ark. Before I say anymore I'm gonna quickly note i still haven't finished playing sa2 or watched the cutscenes of shth, so take this with a grain of salt. The scientists on the Ark were very ableist towards Shadow, but not intentionally or in a noticeable way. He was Project Shadow, the ultimate lifeform, and so when he acted more like a person, flaws and all, and not like a Project, and especially when he showed symptoms of autism, he was reprimanded, told that there wasn't any excuse that he should be better.

I think about this a lot, I could say and explain more but I won't yet. Yes Gerald and Maria loved him, but this was the 50s and also people who love you can hurt you. Gerald hurt him sometimes, careless words and actions that cut deep into Shadow's soul. Maria's also autistic, and she never hurt Shadow, she was nothing but loving and supportive of Shadow. But Shadow had to watch Maria receive the support that he was denied because he was supposed to be Better Than That. Maria did her best to extend that same support to him, to make everyone else treat him the same, but there was only so much she could do.

Most of Shadow's internalised ableism comes from that way of thinking, he's supposed to be Above that. He's the ultimate lifeform!! He shouldn't be acting or feeling like this, it's childish and stupid!!

TAILS had similar when he was younger! the dehumanisation, the being told you should be better than that etc etc. I'm getting really tired I'm gonna have to wrap this up soon. And he put that thinking on himself - for a start it was a survival/coping mechanism, he was abandoned and left to fend for himself, so he told himself that he couldn't afford to be childish, he was above it all. He didn't have anyone to lean on for support, and he couldn't provide it for himself, so he convinced himself he didn't need it.

Then he met Sonic and suddenly he HAD that support. long story short, it took a lot of time and effort to deal with that particular brand of internalised ableism, and he still struggles with it sometimes, but Tails found his support system a lot younger than what Shadow did, and has more time to start to heal. Shadow has only just started that journey. This is making it sound like Tails is 100% fine now, I promise I'm not saying that I'm just really simplifying things

AND SO Shadow sees himself in Tails, a lot. Especially autism wise. He sees tails exhibit the same symptoms as him, ones that Tails has grown comfortable with and accepted as himself, but one's that Shadow still believes he should be above, that he should be BETTER. And Shadow projects on to Tails, hard, and ends up taking it out on Tails, and so all that internalised ableism just becomes regular ableism. Shadow genuinely doesn't mean to be an asshole, in his mind he's trying help Tails be Better, but like. Still ableism, dude

I hope all this, especially the last part, makes sense. I'm so sleepy I'm about to drop off at any moment. I want to talk more about how Shadow projects his internalised ableism onto Tails in more detail but later

#me: i dont want this to get too long #immediately writes a huge wall of text #ask #anon #egg.txt #sonicposting #tails #shadow #shadow&tails

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bellysoupset · 20 days

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i’ve been acting delulu about the whole wen+vin fight that we all knew was coming up, kinda like completely ignoring it was a thing and all your warnings bc im #notemotionallystrong and i liked pretending it wasn’t gonna happen to cope <3333 BUT AHHHHH after this last fic IM LITERALLY FULL ON SOBBING (IN PUBLIC) WHAT THE FUCKKKK SOUP😭😭😭 you’re so mean (lovingly) 😩 FR IM SO SAD I LOVE MY BABIES SO MUCH THIS IS AWFUL BUT ALSO THE FIGHT WAS SO WELL WRITTEN😭 AND LIKE SO UPSETTING AND UNCOMFY BC OF HOW REAL IT FELT idk how to explain it but it’s like hearing my parents (aka my best friends who’ve been together forever LOL) fight LMAO sobbing 😩😩😩 and also OMG I AUDIBLY GASPED AND HAD TO LOOK AWAY WHEN I READ THE PHONE NOTIFICATIONS THING AND REALISED IT WAS LEO’S TEXT like if there was a terrible way to find out it was THIS 😭😭😭😭😭 BABY GIRL THINKING EVERYONE HAS KNOWN FOR MONTHS???? AND THEN VIN SO DESPERATELY TRYING TO EXPLAIN HIMSELF???? AND JUST TALK??? (a lil too late tho buddy but also I GET IT GOSHHHH) AND THEN BOTH SOBBING GODDDD I CANT I CANT this is so devastating amazing job boo‼️

OMG AND ALSO THE OTHER FICS? i hadn’t commented on them bc i was waiting for this one to react to everything but GODDAMN????? LUKE POOR BUB all feverish spilling everything??? and their reactions🥺🥺🥺🥺 (also side note jon so worried about luke was beautiful and i enjoyed it very much🤭) and OMG leo’s guilt about not noticing the depression symptoms 😩 and the whole thing w bella and kit GOSH I WANT TO PUNCH HIM IN THE FACE HES SUCH AN ASSHOLE‼️

BUT ANYWAYS GOING BACK TO MY BABIES RAAAAAHHHHH I NEED WEN AND VIN TO BE OKAY omfg IM NOT STRONG ENOUGH FOR THIS😭😭 you’re so good at writing angst tho like goddamn i’m still crying and will probably continue to cry about this 😩😭 they need to be okay 🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️ also i know you said you were nervous about luke and wen’s storyline and im SO CURIOUS and excited to read‼️ im sure whatever you choose to do with them is gonna be amazing and you know we all have a beautiful love/hate relationship w angst so i have a feeling we’re gonna eat it up!! (which we will do regardless bc your writing and storytelling is always wonderful!!!)

sending a snotty sobby virtual hug to all my babies and a strong virtual punch to kit <33333

🦦

ANSWERING THIS SO LATE THAT VIN/WENDY ARE BACK TOGETHER I'M SORRYYYY

I'm actually cackling at you acting delulu because I remember I dropped many MANY hints of the Wendy/Vince break up and you were in my inbox completely ignoring them and me thinking "damn, am i being too subtle???"

Its so funny (and terrible) to be answering this late, because I can totally say the things I was nervous about. So ORIGINALLY Vin/Wendy didnt get back together, they actually broke it off for good and Wendy feeling very isolated from her friend group relapsed in her eating disorder.

But then Wendy kinda girl bossed her way into getting back with Vince, which was not planned, AND opened up to Bella, that was also not planned at all. So I scrapped that storyline! I still want to do something with her E.D, I remember I got an ask ages ago that was something like "Wendy refuses to eat because she's feeling queasy, Vince thinks she relapsed and tries to push her, only to have it come back up and he realizes she's actually sick", so I'll probably write that! A more mild version of what I originally had in mind!

And I'm SORRY i'm a terrible person but I'm sooo proud of myself for making you cry in public. I need a blog badge just for that #angster

Love you 🦦!

#🦦 anon #lovely correspondence

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asoulofatlantis · 3 months

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So guys I am back yet again, after almost 3 weeks of a Horror that still doesn't seem to end. First I had a mild stomach flue and since it was (relatively) mild, I decided to go to work, since... you know I work had for the money. After taking multiple warning that I should not take the symptoms so lightly, I felt like I've finally recovered but for some reason I was still feeling weak. Just a few days after seemingly recovering from the stomach-flue, my immune system decided to kick me for what I did and for the first time in many, many years (this was a normal ocurrecence back when I was a sickly child tho) I had the flu. Like the actual 6 days of dangerously high fever - kind of flue. It took an unhealthy cocktail of pain medicine to even get the fever down a bit. On day 7 the fever was FINALLY gone and I though my body would gain back strength and the ability to eat. (I was not having hunger nor did anything taste good, so whatever I had been eating was me trying to force some energy source into my immensly weakened body) BUT I did not. I was feelings worse, even with the fever gone. So the doctor found out that the flu had weakened my immune system even further, so on top off still recovering from the flue I had bronchitis and Sinusitis. Giving him no choice but to pump a bunch a medicine inside me, including some antibiotics. And after 3 days of Antibiotics I am still not feeling very well. I still have to take painkiller against the Sinusitis, while my stomach start to revolt against all the medicine, by making me feel nauseous (AGAIN) and I am also still couching slime. So... not sure how long it takes for the Antibiotiks to kick in, but I feel like if they don't, the doctor will see me yet again on Friday, while my work place won't see me again next week - which isn't such a bad thing, since I found out just the day when I broke down with the fever, that my colleagues told my boss I am a lazy bitch who never ever does anything anyway. So.... no one is gonna miss me around there anyway.

All that aside... I had a lot of brain fog fopr the past weeks but I think I am not capable of FINALLY going back to Squall and FF8, so that I can rush to finish this game soon. So... lets go!

Can someone please tell me why I was so stupid to think it was a good idea to stop playing right at the beginning of the Galbadia-Garden-Attack? I have no idea were to go XD

I know this was basically the last chance for the Ring exchange, but neither of them know that. So... the timing is really weird. Especially since, Zell was supposed to be tired because he worked on remaking that ring for Rinoa, but what did he do all night, if he didn't even have the original ring as a reference? Its all a bit weird, if you ask me, even if I get that it was supposed to be a secret from Squall.

THIS GIRL IS GOING ON MY NERVES! She constantly gets herself in trouble and for some reason, only Squall can save her, as if he has nothing better to do as the leader of the garden then to babysit that spoiled so called princess. ARG!

Personal preferences aside... I think it speaks for Squall that he didn't let anyone else die, just because "his" Rinoa was in danger. He IS the Leader. He can not afford to play favorites in a situation like this.

This is so unreasonable, its making me angry. "Hey Squall, we might be going to die soon under your leadership, but your biggest priority should be saving Rinoa right now, because this is a lovestory!" is basically what they are saying and I can not even put into words how stupid that is!

This minigame is so freaking stupid!

XD I mean, its nice that she managed to hold on for so long because she wanted to gave him back the ring an all... but it was not nice of Zell to just give the ring to her without Squalls permission, especially after promising to not lose it or anything like this.

They are his best and only friends and sometimes as a friend, you have to do what's best for them, even if they do not agree with you. And I think it is good that Raijin and Fujin understand that. They could have just followed Seifer blindly like they did so far, but they do understand that that is not the way to save him.

For some reason my mods don't work anymore. That is really bad timing...

I did not take Rinoa with me and it makes no sense at all that the other would let her come running alone when they don't know if we might be in the middle of the fight with Edea. And I mean, we already confirmed multiple times that Rino is stupid enough to try come running to Squalls side for no apparent reason but shippiness, but the other are not stupid enough to let her.

The problem here is that the game had to handle the situation in case you do not bring her along and they couldn't come up with anything better than her just randomly finding us in this room before the fight with Edea.

I can kind of understand him. He just couldn't fight his own wife. But he still should have done this whole thing a bit differently.

In the fight against the Galbadia Garden, when Squall thought Rinoa was lost, he was merely thinking a sad "Rinoa..." and now all of a sudden she is all he can think about, even tho when he previously mentioned everyone trying to get them together he did not sound that enthusiastic or interested at all. And I do get that some people only know what they had or could have had after they lost it and Squall certainly is the type for it. But the whole buildup for this ship until now was really, really bad to begin with.

They did? When? Just a short while ago in Fishermans Horizont you just had another argument.

I forgot that I still have to deal with Lagunas part of the story...

This scene is only in here to see Laguna with a Gunblade because apparently its important to see Laguna using the same weapon his son does ^^'

It is a bit more complicated than that. But I understand why Ellone feels like its her fault.

We are traveling into the unknown with a comatose friend and a witch that could be controlled by some evil being at any given time... what exactly makes you feel like this is a picnic?

#ff8 mona version

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babyjakes · 2 years

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forever and a day | 21. wounded.

〈 disclaimer: this blog posts content not suitable for individuals under the age of 18. minors are strictly prohibited from viewing, sharing, or interacting with this blog. for more information on this blog's commitment to protecting minors, read our full statement here. 〉

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summary | a story in which america’s favorite captain gives a new life and family to a five-year-old girl who has suffered well beyond her years at the hands of hydra.

characters | dad!steve rogers, girl/willa rogers (original character)

warnings | AU similar enough to OU to include spoilers to many Marvel movies (Age of Ultron and beyond). action and fight scenes with violence and killing. injuries/mild gore. mature themes related to and semi-graphic depictions of the aftermath of child abuse/neglect (emaciation, wounds, scarring, etc). mentions/descriptions of past CSA and CSM. medical abuse and experimentation. ptsd/trauma symptoms in a child (developmental discrepancies, de-humanized behavior, detachment, extreme fears). medical treatment of CSM and other aftermath of abuse.somewhat evil!Tony Stark (eventually).

[Steve]

As soon as the little girl’s bright green eyes meet mine, she lets out a muffled sob, twisting her body sideways to shield her wound from me. Glancing around anxiously, she searches for an escape, but finds none other than the doorway I’m standing in. Curling her little knees up towards her chest, she lets out a cry of pain, her head falling in defeat. Taking an instinctive step towards her, I try to open my mouth to say something, but for a moment my entire body feels frozen in shock.

What happened to her side? Did she do this to herself? What am I supposed to do?

After a few more seconds of processing all of my racing thoughts, I snap out of my daze, my heart shattering in my chest as Girl continues to weep helplessly before me. As slowly and carefully as I can, I begin to approach the wounded child, bending my knees down and holding my hands flat out in front of me in hopes of making myself seem like less of a threat. Girl peers over at me, her pink cheeks soaked with tears. When her eyes begin fluttering, her body jerking harshly against the wall behind her, I don’t even need to ask; I can tell by her face that she’s remembering the last time she saw me, the memory of the agent’s face being pounded in flashing through her terrified mind. Glancing back at me, the child whimpers, her little voice coming out broken and desperate, “Please, please don’t. Sorry, please. Please, wait- d-don’t hurt Girl.”

Softening my gaze at the little girl, I shake my head reassuringly. “I’m not here to hurt you,” I murmur softly, “honey, it looks like you’re injured. You’re bleeding, sweetheart. Please, please let me help you.” At this, Girl twists her shaking form further, pushing herself up against the wall as firmly as she can to try to keep the blood hidden away from me. But in the end, there’s nowhere to run. And I know that probably scares her more than anything. Her only way out would require her to pass me.

“Please, sorry,” Girl continues to plead as I take another step towards her, the space between us slowly closing. “N-no- wait, please.”

“Sweetheart, hey,” I coo, wishing I knew how to ease the little one’s fears. “It’s okay, Girl. You’re okay. I’m not gonna-” my voice cuts out as I feel something sticky beneath my shoe, prompting my gaze to fall to the trail of blood leading up to the quivering child.

“Sorry, r-really sorry- didn’t mean to, will clean it up, please,” Girl hiccups, her eyes widening at the sticky red liquid that’s been smeared across the tile floor. Pressing her hands further into her injured side, the girl winces, the sound of the balled-up tissue squelching against her bloody flesh causing me to wince.

“Girl, please let me help you. What happened, sweetie? Why are you bleeding like that?” I ask desperately, tears building in my eyes as I watch the poor kid writhe in pain.

“Sorry, please,” Girl sobs, her little feet kicking out in front of her under her knees that are still being held up close to her.

Pausing for another moment, I realize I’ve reached an impasse; talking the child through this isn’t seeming to be getting us anywhere fast. Aright now, without having any sort of idea what kind of wound could be producing all this blood or how long Girl’s been sustaining it, I don’t know how much time we have before she could very well bleed out right in front of me. Noting this, I sigh, deciding that even though I want to give Girl as much time and space as she needs, ultimately, time and space just aren’t a luxury we can afford right now.

Taking a deep breath, I forge the last several steps to the girl, finally lowering myself fully to my knees in front of her, only a few feet away from her shaking form. Girl slams herself against the wall again, this time, the side of her head knocking against it. “Hey, it’s okay,” I soothe quickly, not wanting her to hurt herself any further. “I’m not going to hurt you, doll. I promise, I pinky promise. Just… please, Girl. Please. I need to see it.”

The child ducks her head down fearfully at my words, not able to look at me. Getting no further response, I sigh again, knowing that I’m not going to be able to examine her injury without a decent amount of resistance.

As carefully as I can, I reach out my hands to the little girl. Her eyes widen at the movement, and she cowers back from them, but has no space left between her and the wall. Soft sounds of her breathing escalating fill the air. “Hey, shh, shh. Gentle, see?” I murmur, “gentle hands, sweetheart. I won’t hurt you. Nothing’s gonna hurt; I’m just gonna take a look at you, doll,” I tell her mildly, placing my hands on her shoulders and turning her body to face me. Girl lets out a pathetic whimper as I come in contact with her, tears dripping down her puffy cheeks. She tries to fight me, but as always, her weakened body is no match for my super-soldier strength. Her shoulder blades press back into the wall and her knees fall away lamely, her legs splaying out in front of her as she faces me, her hands still clutching her side as blood seeps through her fingers. “Sweetheart, what happened?” I ask breathlessly. The girl keeps her head down, not saying anything. Seeing my chance to finally find out what’s happened to her as she sits defeatedly before me, my hands move down and land on hers, and gently, I begin to pry them away from the blood source.

“W-wait, please,” Girl whimpers miserably, but it does little to stop me. Gathering both of her hands in one of mine, I use my other to gently remove the bloody tissue from the wound. Below it lies a relatively small opening, perfectly circular. Alarmingly deep, and as I look more closely, I can see a hint of metal flashing out from inside.

It’s a bullet wound.

“You got shot?” I all but yell, completely forgetting to soften my tone from the sheer shock of the discovery. Girl flinches back and her arms fly up in front of her face to shield herself from me; shaking inconsolably, she begins to cry harder, and I feel my body weakening, absolutely stunned by what I’ve found. “Oh my god, I-… sweetheart, I-… I had no idea. None of us did. Why didn’t you tell us?”

“Th-thought you’d be mad.”

Guilt and heartbreak sweep over me as I stare at the gushing wound, tears building in the back of my eyes as I shakily reach up to tap in on my wire. “Bruce. I-I need you here, ASAP. We’re in- in the guestroom. Girl’s-… I-I-… she’s been shot. Please, hurry.”

Girl continues to sob as I wait for a response. After a few moments, there’s a buzz in my ear. “I’m on my way. What do you mean, she’s been shot? What the hell happened?”

“It-… back at the safe-house,” I reply. “I just found out. None of us knew.”

“Okay. I’ll be there soon. For now, just… apply pressure to the wound.” And then, with a break of the static, he’s gone. Sucking in a shallow breath, I force it out through my teeth. I can’t believe this happened. I can’t believe none of us knew.

Trying to shake off my shock for the sake of hopefully saving the little girl’s life, I turn and throw the bloody tissue in the trashcan, reaching up and taking one of the hand towels off of the towel rack. Returning in front of Girl, I fold it up, holding it firmly in my hand. “Okay, sweetheart. I need to press this into your side, okay? I’ll be as gentle as I can. It… it might hurt a little, honey. We just gotta try to slow the bleeding.”

I wish there were something else, anything else that we could do, but Bruce was right. A wound like this needs pressure. If it were on an arm or a leg, we could tourniquet it, but it’s her side; our options are limited. Girl whimpers at my words, squirming up against the wall. “Please, please don’t t-touch it, don’t touch it.” I sigh, hating that I have to do this. Inching closer, I reach out and scoop the child up in my arms. Thrashing about, she continues to beg. “Please, p-please! No, please, w-wait-”

Placing Girl on my lap with her back pressed up against my chest, I wrap one arm around and hold her under the armpits to keep her held close to me and still. My other arm brings the towel to her side, and though every ounce of my being hates what I’m about to do, I convince myself I must. Bracing for the little girl’s protests, I press down, hard. Girl lurches at the contact, letting out a sharp cry of pain. A tear trails down my cheek as I hold her steadily, pressing the fabric into the tender wound.

“I know it hurts, I know. Shhh, it’s okay- I-I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I’m so, so sorry.” I don’t know what else to say; I know that the only thing running through her mind is that I’m hurting her. She was scared that I would, and now I am. But I have to; what else can I do?

“Please, stop, s-stop!” the wailing child begs.

“Honey, we-… we have to stop the bleeding,” I try to explain, “it’s okay, shh-shh shhh.” Girl sobs, hanging against my arm that’s holding her up. “You’re okay, kiddo,” I continue to soothe through my own tears. “Everything’s gonna be okay.”

As I’m finishing my sentence, Bruce bursts through the door, looking just as panicked as I feel. He hurries over, crouching down in front of us. “Oh god,” he exhales.

“No, p-please,” Girl cries at the sight of the doctor, struggling against my firm grip around her.

“We need to get her down to medical,” Bruce decides. “Can you carry her?” I nod without a word.

As the dark-haired man stands before us, I lift the child up in my arms, holding her close to me as I continue to apply pressure. “Please, n-no,” she whines, tears continuing to trail down her cheeks as we hurry out of her bathroom and room, eventually making our way down the hallway. When we reach the lounge, we’re met with shock from the group sitting at the sofas. Peter rises to his feet, a look of alarm spreading across his face.

“Oh my god- what happened?” he asks.

“Bruce, what the hell?” Nat adds.

Bruce is busy hitting the elevator button, though, and when he turns back to address the group, the doors slide open. Peter hurries up and joins us in the elevator. Girl’s now sobbing loudly against my shoulder; I wish I could reach up and stroke her hair, but my hands are full. “You’re okay, shh, shh,” I coo, gently swaying her from side to side in attempts to soothe her painful cries.

As soon as we land on the floor for medical, we’re all rushing out of the elevator in a blur and nearly running down the long white hallway. Bruce turns into the first exam room on the right, and I follow, Peter trailing close behind.

“Get her on the bed,” Bruce demands, flinging open the cabinets and beginning to pull out various medical supplies. Trying to keep the towel pressed to her side, I gently set the little girl down on the mattress. The child twists and turns slightly, appearing too weak to even sit up to try to escape. Bruce takes the cloth from me and lifts it up, revealing the wound. “Jesus christ,” he mumbles, turning back to get his tools ready.

As Peter stands anxiously to the side, I let out a puff of air, practically collapsing down on the edge of the bed as I reach out and brush Girl’s hair out of her face. She looks at me, her bottom lip wobbling in fear. “It’s okay, sweetie. We’re gonna fix you up, make you all better. You’re okay, you’re gonna be just fine,” I promise her. Bruce continues to prep his gear, and a question pops up in my head as I stare into the little girl’s watery eyes. “Girl,” I begin, sucking in a breath. “You got hit by a shot that went through the bed?” She nods. “Then why-… how come we couldn’t hear you? Why didn’t you-… how did-… sweetheart, how did you keep from screaming?”

Girl’s quiet for a moment, as if she doesn’t want to tell me. Then, her expression falls, and her voice comes out sounding more gutted and defeated than ever.

“You said t-to be quiet.”

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#faad #faad: wounded #eun's writing #steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers series #steve rogers au #steve rogers angst #steve rogers fluff #hurt/comfort #steve rogers x child!oc #dad!steve rogers #the avengers #avengers fanfiction #mcu #mcu fanfiction #captain america #captain america fanfiction

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teafairywithabook · 1 year

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Songs and Ships!

@frenchiefitzhere and @clover-46 tagged me for this and I had to calm myself! I love these things. Songs that remind me of Redacted ships and characters. In no particular order but I'm starting with Avior because no one can stop me.

AVIOR AND STARLIGHT Starlight by Westlife - This is just great and I love it. I want to put the lyrics that fit but all of them work so well. These ones especially maybe?

Starlight, Lighting up the darkest night, Something I can see in your eyes, Keeps me alive tonight oh oh oh, We can all be starlights, Racing at the speed of light, I found you in my darkest time, Now look how we shine so bright, woah, Dancing at the speed of light, You know you are my starlight. Dammit Erik, give me my happy ending!

MILO AND SWEETHEART The Invisible Man by Queen - I just imagine Milo coming in and this is just playing. Now I'm in your room and I'm in your bed, And I'm in your life, and I'm in your head. VEGA AND WARDEN HUSHH by AViVA - Nooo I have so many for Vega but I'll pick this one because I love it. Hush now darling, I won't let go Just keep moving, moving through the smoke, Hold me closer, we step across, Now you know, Hold your breath, dim the lights, I won't say you're safe this time, Here and now you're mine tonight. AARON AND SMARTASS 9 to 5 by Dolly Parton - Yeah yeah I know it's not original but it's the first one I think of! Plus we love Dolly. DAMIEN AND HUXLEY Close To My Fire by Beth Hart and Joe Bonamassa - Two artists I love anyway but come on! Like I could resist this one. Boy you are my symptom delusion, You're melting me down, my resolution, I can escape, can't say I'm trying, You say my name, oh I can't hide it. IMPERIUM SAM Hail To The King by Avenged Sevenfold - The lyrics! It seems very Imperium like to me. There's a taste of fear When the henchmen call Iron fist to tame the land Iron fist to claim it all Hail to the king Hail to the one Kneel to the crown GAVIN AND FREELANCER When You're Gone - by Bryan Adams and Mel C - It's that feeling of only realising you want someone when they're not there. I think Gavin may have been there in the early days. I've been wandering around the house all night wondering what the hell to do Yeah, I'm trying to concentrate, but all I can think of is you Well, the phone don't ring, 'cause my friends ain't home I'm tired of being all alone Got the TV on 'cause the radio's playing songs that remind me of you Baby, when you're gone, I realize I'm in love! Aww Gavin, baby. You'll get there. CAMELOPARDALIS Stressed Out by 21 Pilots - Nobody said these had to be inventive.

I wish I found some better sounds no one's ever heard I wish I had a better voice that sang some better words I wish I found some chords in an order that is new I love him.

IVAN (Vega era) Drive By by Train - Oh the creepy vibes on this one! I love it for Ivan.

You moved to west L.A., or New York or Santa Fe Or wherever, to get away from me

Ok I'm gonna stop there because I can go on and on with so many! But if you want more of a certain ship (or if I missed one you want) come shout at me! I'm going to tag @themonotonysyndrome, @sincerelywhistler and @riathepinkie if they want to do this! Show me your music!

#redacted #redacted avior #redacted damien #tag game #redacted asmr #redacted music #redacted camelopardalis #redacted ivan #redacted warden #redacted milo #redacted imperium #redacted gavin

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thegothicviking · 2 years

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"Life is though but so are you" a.k.a / "how it's going"

Tw mentions of suicidal thoughts and mentions of depression.....

......

Context; I told my new "stand in doctor/substitute doctor" about my depression and suicidal thoughts and how I am struggling with the ADD symptoms (my original doctor is going to some school for 6 months and I wish I could have my substitute instead because he was so kind! And he really listened to me and I was there for over an hour! But of course I can't have him and I can't even put myself in a queue to get him! Typical!)

Anyway he, my substitute doctor, recommended me to call this psych health hotline. Which I did. No it's not the usual DPS (DPS /Det Psykiatriske Senter/The Psychiatric Centre...is usually the national psych health fascilities/help you get here in Norway and believe me when I say they have blood and many deaths on their hands and they are useless and did nothing for me for 3 years except taking my money!! I hate them and so does many Norwegians!!)

Anyway...I call this psych health hotline service that I have never heard of before and they called me back today and have now offered me therapy (FOR FREE!! My former Psychiatrist kicked me out because I was often late to our sessions and I have been in need of therapy for years now) and there will be some group activities with others who are struggling with their mental health (THIS WILL ALSO BE FOR FREE) and so I'll meet up with others and we're gonna play soccer, golf or play with frisbee's...etc... hang out and be social. Which I need as I only have one physical non-online friend and she has social anxiety....

I have been told that all of this therapy that I'll be getting is FREE of charge and its not gonna be about anti deppressants/medication but more about councling and talking sessions...and tasks that I'll do at home (I am terrified to take any meds against depression and so I'm glad it's not about that!) But it will be therapy nevertheless! I am so happy that I'll finally get therapy again!! ☀️

I told my dad about it..and our convo went something like this;

"Are you at your mom's?"

"Yes?"

"Are you awake? You told me you were tired after the phone call...?"

"I'm awake...I was just tired. Not going to take a nap.."

"Ok. Because I have something for you...I'll be there in 7-8 minutes!"

"But I just ate! "(I thought it was food like it usually is when he comes over to my mom's!)

"It's not food. It's something else. I'll be there in 7 minutes!"

And he came and gave me 10 roses. And a card that says "Life is though but so are you" ❤

And he signed the back of the card "Pappz" (instead of pappa/dad) and wrote that he "loved me very much! ❤ hug Pappz!"

And I got a heart lollipop along with the roses and I love that type of lollipop! (They are some of the best ones I swear!!) He gave me a bear hug and told me he was proud of me and that he loved me! I did feel better! I feel blessed right now! Despite all the 10 years of bullying in school I can at least say that I have the best parents! 💕

After putting the roses in a vase I had to text my dad this;

Me: "I don't have a partner (bf/gf) but I have you! 💕"

Papa viking/my dad: "The right one is surely out there waiting for you (my name. Censored.)" 💕

This month is suicide awareness. Talk about suicidal thoughts. Don't be judgemental. Be open. Talk about and dare to ask people why they feel the way they feel!!

It helps to talk about it! It really does! Something as simple as a little card like this or a text from someone can mean something tremendously! It can mean the entire world and make a difference!

And so like I told the lady on the psych health hotline; "I will still try and keep on fighting this!"

And I will. Day by day. Little by little! Day by day. Little by little.

🎶One foot in front of the other foot 🎶

Tell people you love them! Tell them often! Please do! It can mean the difference to them!❤

And to those who are struggling; tell someone you care about that you are struggling! Don't be afraid to tell them! Or call for help!

Remember; "Life is though but so are you!"☀️

We'll fight this! We are all warriors after all! ⚔💖

#personal viking #i blacked out my real name and I would appreciate it if it stayed blacked out #tw; mention of suicidal thoughts #tw; mention of depression #mental health #depression #suicidal thoughts #like i told the lady on the phone..i will keep on trying to fight this #i wont let that stupid parrot win

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lightpeak · 5 months

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We Won't Watch The Sunrise - Script

Someone out there will decide it’s a good choice to love me. I’m not gonna tell you whether I think that’s congruent with their happiness or not. What I will say is that you will be disappointed in some way. For example, we won’t stay up all night to watch the sunrise. The sun blinds me.

I was born, like most people, beneath blinding lights; thrust into a world that was huge and boundlessly intimidating. The only difference for me, is that the lights never stopped being blinding, and the colors never came into view.

They call it Achromatopsia. Etymologically, its origins are Greek. A, for without, chroma, for color, and opsia, for vision. Without color vision. Though there is much more to this condition than meets the eye.

Moving on from that horrific pun. Achromatopsia is characterized by a lack of functioning cones in the retina. Cone cells being the photoreceptors that are responsible for color vision. They also provide the means to effectively filter light based on intensity. This is the reason your pupils dilate or constrict depending on your surroundings. Once you remove the cones, or their ability to function correctly, the pupils remain rather wide, or can react oppositely to what is expected. This can be a rather alarming symptom to the uninitiated, as this can be a sign of significant brain trauma, tumor, or stroke.

The tangible experience of this, when exposed to bright light, is white-out. I’d like to set the scene for likely the closest analog a non-sufferer would experience. Imagine it’s the middle of the night. It’s pitch black in your home, and you wake up to go use the bathroom. You switch on the bathroom light, and your eyes become overwhelmed, and you’re blind for a moment, only seeing white. That’s what I would experience, perpetually, should I walk outside during the day without my specialized sunglasses.

There’s also the fact that I can’t see color. At all. I am completely colorblind. I only see in shades of black, white, and gray. Or at least, that’s the only comparison that can be made. Because that’s what makes sense to you. But that’s more going into a philosophical view on the matter.

All of this is to say that I’m not normal. Though there are many more reasons for this notion, this is the one that feels the most visceral in my life. I have a rare visual disability that dictates many facets of my life. I can’t drive, because my vision is too poor, even with the specialized sunglasses. The possibility of losing my sunglasses during the day is effectively a death sentence. Or at least an inability to live for myself. I would need to ask someone for help until I either find them, or make it home.

I wouldn’t be able to pick someone up on our way to our date. I wouldn’t be able to watch the sun set or rise with them. Only just after, or just before. I romanticize dusk and dawn like they’re the only times I feel comfortable. Because they are. Just after the sun has gone down, but its influence still radiates across the sky, it is just dark enough that I can take off my glasses, but not so dark that it’s fallen into night. That’s my favorite time of day. That’s when I’d want to spend my time with whoever it is that decides to love me.

I experience the world inherently differently than pretty much anyone else. Other than people who also have Achromatopsia. But it’s still lonely. After all, when I describe my lack of color vision, I simply state three names that mean nothing to me. Just names, the same as there are names of dead presidents, or countries that no longer exist, or superheroes. They are just names that mean nothing to me. Yet I still speak them, because I find myself colorless in a colorful world.

Someone out there will decide it’s a good idea to love me. Although they will be disappointed. Because while they’re watching the sunset, I’ll only be watching them. And I suppose that’ll have to be good enough.

youtube

#achromatopsia #youtube #love #relationship #Youtube

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rot-room · 10 months

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6-23-23

I feel like i am in a bad dream for the last 72 hrs. Im gonna share to document these trying times. Woke up so sick 2-3 nights ago (time does not exist rn). I thought it was usual anxiety/ssri symptoms but turned out to be much worse (food poisoning?) Was up all night on phone with mom. Next day i had shakes/chills/fever and body ache all over. Was too afraid to take my ssri for 2 days.

All of this is happening, and i was also following the news about the submarine, for some reason. Felt like a descent into insanity, me rotting in this room soaked in sweat and heart racing. Honestly, i have felt like that one scene in trainspotting:

Anxiety is unbearable because you start to fear the fear itself. The worst part of my illness aside from the crushing nausea and stomach distress was the fear that came with it. I have severe emetophobia. The worst part of my anxiety is that it never stops. I am constantly afraid. I am afraid of being afraid, i am afraid of losing control. It is a never-ending cycle. The last two nights i fell asleep with my mom on the line. Just to be safe. She yelled at me two days ago and i cried like a child. A sick child. Sobbing and shaking in pain and making it worse for myself and none of the 'grown ups' in my life being gentle with me while i feel like i wounded bird. i called the nurse hotline and she put me thru to a doctor. The nurse seemed like she thought i was dying. I did too, as i originally thought i had serotonin syndrome. The doctor was very nice, she told me i am Not dying, and i can keep taking my meds. I am grateful for the doctor on the phone for being gentle with me, as i was crying while we talked.

I have been playing a moth game to keep me distracted and i love it, nd i have become even more fascinated with caterpillars and moths

woke up last night at 3am having a panic attack. The worst part is, once i start having a panic attack i start to panic about how i am panicking.

My heart was beating so hard and i could anticipate the nausea and tingly face that would come with it but i knew if i kept this cycle up i will die. I can't even say for sure how much of my sickness was sickness and how much was a fear response. It all started to blend together into one big nightmare.

i thought for once, hey i will actually do something productive instead of crumbling apart like a million shards of broken short circuited machinery thats frantically thrashing and quivering and oozing toxic waste.

so i took some deep breaths. the 4-7-8 deep breaths. and miraculously within a few minutes my heart was slowing down. that really is the biggest culprit for me; the racing heart. It is the poisoned root that opens the pandoras box of symptoms. The nausea the shaking the salivating the tingling the hyperventilating. If i can slow the racing heart i can cut off those symptoms before they spiral out of control. And i stopped it. It was hard because i took gravol before and i was in a half-coma state. Trying to calm a panic attack while drowsy is very very scary. But i did it. And i had two other panic attacks today. And i stopped them myself. Now that i was so sick i feel like i stood in the gates of hell and the most comforting thing to tell myself when i am panicking is, "whats the worst that can happen?" Because the worst part of all of it, was the fear. The anxiety spiralling out of control. The sickness was horrible on its own but the fear only exacerbated it. I need to get a hold on it.

this battle with anxiety and panic disorder controls my life. sometimes more than other times. I dont keep many secrets and i am an open book, but nobody in my life except maybe my mother will ever know the extent to which my GAD and panic disorder and emetophobia(and presumably OCD) controls me. I am dying. I am dying at work i am dying when i am with my friends, when i am laughing i am dying when i am sleeping i am dying. Because of my fear and panic. I cannot do it anymore. I need to win. I can do it. I cannot spiral anymore. I am not alive i am surviving. I am more afraid and alert than a caveman hiding from predators millions of years ago. I feel everything constantly. All the pain all the fear i feel it all.

I have seen this photo more in the last three days than i have seen another human, eaten food, got out of bed,

When i look at this, i see a lovecraftian monster. I dont wanna talk about current events but sometimes things happen and i fixate on them when i am already in a dark place and this is one of them. Maybe its because i am so afraid right now, and i cant think of anything more terrifying than being in a tiny tube in the bottom of the ocean that implodes in on itself. The last three days i have been sick and i have not left my bed and i have not eaten and i have been scared to take my meds and i have gone back and forth from my bed and a cold shower. I have panicked so much. Such catastrophe, such fear. It lives inside of me. I dont know if i have anything poetic to say about the sub. I have just been morbidly obsessing over the situation and it felt like something i needed to mention in my memoir of the last fucked up three days. when i think of this transitional, dark time i will think of the sub, and vice versa. Rest in peace Suleman.

I watched Bound (1996) last night on the couch in the dark, it was on cable. I loved this movie so much. It felt like a light in the darkness. I hope one day i can have a girlfriend. I hope girls are real. That sure would be cool.

I hope i can get better. I really, really want to. If i do not stop being afraid i will die. I will die anyway but, the fear will kill me much too soon and very painfully. I cannot live like this forever. And i won't, because I am brave and i have lived to tell everything up until now. I will be okay. I will be okay. I will be okay. I love you, i forgive you, thank you.

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olivando · 1 year

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Hair Matters

A somewhat silly tale of the time I almost had an anxiety attack at a tube station because of a haircut.

Hair is a potent signifier of health, status, style. It frames our faces, hides and reveals us. It can be a vehicle for self expression as much as a source of profound anxiety, which is especially true for cis women and queer folk. I'm no exception.

In her video about alopecia, Jen Campbell talks about hair loss in the context of chronic illness. Even though she never liked it much to begin with, and has many more pressing symptoms to contend with, societal equating of hair with beauty prompted her to reflect on the topic. Embarrassing as it is to admit, one of my main motivators to seek treatment for my anemia was the fact that my hair was falling off at an alarming rate. Like many trans men before and after me, I worry about what testosterone will do to my hairline. Mind you, it is not the main concern... but it's there, in the back of my mind.

I started dyeing my hair young. As a teen, I took full advantage of summers to experiment with length at color. I was daring: pink, purple, red, black, two-tone, wavy, straight, layered, anything that I thought might look cool. I have no idea why, but as a child I wished I had been born a wavy-haired redhead, so as a young adult I lived that fantasy. No regrets!

For all my boldness, there was one style I always coveted but had never dared try: "boy" short. The reason? Fatphobia. Unlike AMAB people, for whom short hair is commonly the default, AFAB people are told that we need to have the "right" face for a short haircut. "Right" meaning slim and angular, of course.

The day I finally took the plunge was the day I first came out as non-binary (story for another day). I was on the chair, waiting and texting. It took longer because my original hairdresser didn't know how to do short, so her colleague, who happened to be her mom, took over. She did a beautiful job, and oh, how the style suited me! Still, that was a "women's" pixie haircut; as per a friend's suggestion, I used Anne Hathaway as a reference.

After that, short hair became my new normal.

And yet, as with public restrooms (another post pending), haircuts became a minefield. Men's are cheaper (unfair, but especially unfair if you are getting the same haircut), so it makes sense to ask for that. However, many co-ed hair salons will still lead me to the women's section, where even hairdressers who do short styles tend to do feminizing cuts or are reticent to go ham with the clippers.

One day, because I wasn't fully satisfied with my previous haircut, I decided to try a fancy salon near my workplace which a friend had told me was trans-friendly. They had no appointments for the day, but they suggested their barber place a few blocks away, where, for obvious reasons, there were more staff that could do what I needed.

I walked there after work. It was very busy, full of stylish men chatting on the chairs, cutting hair, trimming beards, on their phones in the waiting area. It was exactly the kind of space I was drawn to as a kid, only to be shut off from as soon as puberty hit. Was I really gonna go there and sit for however long the cut took, listening to their talk, too uncomfortable to speak because of my voice (yet another post to come!)? Cue the anxiety attack.

I ran into the station's bookshop. Looked at the books. I breathed in, out, willing myself to stay calm and understand why a stupid haircut was causing me such distress.

What am I afraid of?

Honestly? that they would say "sorry, this is for men's only." This would not only make me feel bad, it would also put me in the position of either having to correct them, or look down, say "alright, then," and leave a coward. Had I chosen the latter, I would have been so disappointed in myself.

I want to be brave, always. For me, and for others.

So I went in and asked if they had slots for walk-ins. They did in an hour's time, an hour I didn't have as I had a ticketed event to attend. Such stress, for nought! Still, I'm glad I asked.

I ended getting my haircut at the same place where I went to cut my hair the day I first came out. This time, though, I asked for a men's cut. The hairdresser was a butch Brazilian who clearly thought I played for her home team. It was a good time, and my hair looks great.

I still want to try going to a dedicated barbershop sometime. I know there are plenty of openly queer places like that, and will look into those. However, it is important to me that I feel able to walk into any hair salon or barbershop, looking how I look, and ask for a haircut. If they say no? That's on them.

(In lieu of an epilogue, I wish to clarify that I would absolutely grow out my hair again in the future. I love experimenting with it! But being honest, I wouldn't do it until I've transitioned further—more on this later.)

#journal #trans #trans man #queer #lgbtq community #lgbtq #memoir

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