#re: i had already said i do NOT have this disorder in my brain so i def wasnt gonna bring it up in session i have other stuff to talk abt | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

starlightsearches · 2 years

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with your story, Mixtape, i loved it. so much lmao it was so angsty and sweet and i like how you do miscommunication. i normally hate when characters dont "just talk to each other", but you make it unannoying and understandable, even with your shorter works. i love it lmao

me being me though, i do want to add what Mixtape made me think of. and thats, arrogantly enough, me. bc. y/n. of course. buT STILL, hold my hand, listen to me-- i got this thing right, called an Auditory Processing Disorder. its part of the D/HoH. (actually, i have a lot of processing disorders, probably, but Mixtape made me think of that one) its where your ears are fine, but your brain has problems processing language. so a lot of the time, if you arent reading lips (their back is to you, theyre in the other room, or theyre a recording on a mixtape), or if theres competing sounds (like the melody can make lyrics hard to hear), if there's an accent, or if youre just having a bad processing moment-- people sound like theyre speaking Simlish. they sound like the Peanuts parents. theyre suddenly speaking a foreign language you dont know, and maybe you can catch onto the meaning via context clues and pass by the "i heard your voice but didnt hear a word you just said" moment. other times you have to ask people to repeat themselves (and sometimes you process belatedly and realize what they said in the middle of their repetition, meaning the repetition was useless, its annoying). it's like,you can hear a car door slam down the street just fine, you can hear the faucet dripping in the other room-- but trying to hear your bud that's driving while youre in the backseat?? with their face away from you, the sounds of the car itself moving and the sounds of traffic, god forbid if any music is playing or multiple people in the car are talking at once-- you cant hear a thing anyone is saying. its all gibberish

i have a point to this, promise. the end result is cute, i just have to explain a lot about this disorder first because idk if you know it already or not, and yeah

growing up, i couldnt figure out what the fuck people were saying while they were singing because of this disorder. the melody was competiting with the singer, i could hear the singer's voice but none of the lyrics. so what i always had to do was search youtube for the lyric videos or try to find the lyrics online. because if i couldnt do either (and i very often couldnt growing up. i generally can now, but every once in a while, i still google it and come up with zilch), and i had no lyrics to reference, then that meant looping the song until i could "get" what they were saying. and very, VERY often?? id get like. two or three lines of every other verse, and the rest was a garbled mess of English-ish words and im just sitting there going "i guess i'll never know"

now. call me crazy. i was born in 1997, idk what tech was available in the 80s. but i know youtube was NOT, and im pretty fucking positive googling song lyrics was also not something one could do. youd have to find the album's song books somewhere or hope the lyrics were printed on the vinyl case (idk if cassette tapes also sometimes had that, idk). a mixtape?? you definitely dont get the lyrics printed anywhere. buying several albums of song books for a single mixtape of miscellaneous songs is just expensive

actually, as a genuine ABBA fan, the fact that rheir voices are never comepting with the melody (the voices are always SIGNIFICANTLY louder than rhe melody) and they ennuciate well, shit sounds crystal clear, i dont have to look up lyrics usually. same thing with musicals, they usually have to put a lot of focus in vocal clarity since not everyone can see the actor's face on stage, so that's part of why im a musical nerd. its easier to process

so. im here. just sitting. imagining my y/n with their auditory processing disorder, wincing at eddie and going "I'm taking it slow. I've been re-listening to the songs until I can actually process what the singer is saying. It's hard to, like, hear the words. I haven't let myself move onto the next song until I figure it out. Because. Y'know. You made it for me, and I want to appreciate it and understand what you've made me."

"Oh. That's right, your brain-language thing. Uh. Well, how far have you gone?"

"I've been on the first track all week, actually. But I promise I'm trying! Really! I do like how it sounds, I just want to get what the guy's actually saying before moving on to the next one, y'know? I'm sorry."

and i say this because. god. eddie probably knoes all the songs. and i dont think hed like sernade someone who he wasnt dating, bUT

the idea of eddie having to "make it physical", like, him having to hand-write the lyrics for y/n (he knows the songs afterall, hes probably nemorized them or at least can re-listen and pause the song to write the next bit down bc he can hear better than them) so they can read the lyrics while listening, him having to take this ethereal concept of trying to communicate his feelings and WRITING IT DOWN, knowing y/n will have his heart in his hands (as opposed to the slight distance of putting a cassette in a player, no longer touching skin) and see all the mispellings and scribbles and smudges, and just. god. the fear of what if your handwriting betrays what youre feeling. the addition of paper and pen makes the will they/wont they get it, get me, get what im saying mystery of a mixtape feel even more like a love letter now, aw fuck. poor eddie. he already went through the nervousness of handing them the cassette, now this is like the sequel and he still has no emptional pay-off from the first one yet on if this is just him or what

ugh. i just thought thatd be so fucking cute. him writing down the lyrics for them. god

i cant write a fic, i dont have the time, but i thought youd like this vague outline of one in return for the gift of what you crafted and polished so well. thank you for it. again, shit really tugged at my heart strings, i love the angst and pining of it all. i hope this attempt of a return gift made you at least smile. i know it doesnt parallel with your AUDACIOUSLY wonderful idea of "i cant listen to this tape because i love you", but it still was an idea generated because of you. and i just love the tenderness of eddie doing the Love As An Act Of Service in it, and i hope that you end up enjoying at that aspect of it too. again, what youve done is an utter delight, and i hope this outline gives you a fraction of the leg-kicking squeals kinda feelings you gave me. thank you again. good luck to you in all you do ♡

Hey friend!!

I'm so glad you liked Mixtape! I actually also have auditory processing disorder (because of ADHD) and I totally get what you mean about not understanding lyrics. Thank god for google 🙌🏼

Also, I do think the idea of Eddie writing out the lyrics would be pretty cute—going through half a notebook of paper because his handwriting looks like shit or he keeps misspelling words. And then he knows that you'll look at it, see the lyrics written out and how scary that would be for him.

#asks #nice asks #anons #star answers #long post

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queerprayers · 2 years

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not sure if you have any advice or words for this but i have a shift coming up that i have had multiple panic attacks over and almost had to go to the hospital (it’s an 8 hour shift which i’ve never done before due to my mental health) and i’m thinking about calling in sick and i just don’t know if that would be would be wrong of me to do since i’m not technically sick. i don’t want to lie but i don’t know if i could handle going to that shift. im afraid God will punish me for lying. if anything, prayers would be appreciated

Beloved, you caught me at the right time to say a quick word to you. I'm so sorry you're going through this and you're definitely in my prayers.

The number one thing I want you to know right now is that it is not lying to call in sick for anxiety. "Calling in sick" just means, "because of health reasons, I cannot work today." It doesn't literally mean a physical illness/virus. If you broke your leg and couldn't walk, technically you wouldn't be sick, but you might use a sick day. I don't know if you have a diagnosis or what symptoms you experience, but anxiety is officially a medical disorder—this is a real documented health issue that many people experience. If, for physical or mental health reasons, you cannot work, you can use a sick day. That's what they're for.

Taking care of yourself and resting is not wrong. Rest is a God-ordained practice—you don't have to go more than a page in the Bible to understand that (Genesis 2:2-3). Rabbi Danya Ruttenberg has a great piece about the Jewish Sabbath practice, and I think that could be relevant for you as you give yourself permission to rest from labor.

Disabled people/people dealing with health issues (including me, and it sounds like you) have a different relationship to labor/rest than other people, and that's okay! By the measurements of capitalism, we aren't working "as much" as others, and this can seem like a moral failure. But it isn't. The standards of capitalism and productivity are wrong. We all have different talents and abilities to bring to our communities, and while many of us are forced to work beyond what is healthy, if at all possible, we should listen to ourselves, labor as we are able, and rest as much as we need.

(Also, I know a lot of workplaces shame people for taking time off, but everyone: if you have paid time off, take it. It's for you to take. Your life is not your boss's. If you don't have paid time off, unionize if you can and also send me your boss's address so I can slash their tires. Thanks.)

Finally: God is not angry with you for paying attention to your health, prioritizing rest, and communicating your needs to others. There's a lot to be said about what the ethics are re: small lies, but ultimately you are not lying by admitting you're not up to working. We all have to prioritize moral decisions, and we can't always make perfect decisions, especially when we're in ill health. Maybe in a perfect world, we would always attend everything we said we would, and never back out of anything, but that's not the world we live in. We have lives outside of work, we have fragile and annoying bodies/brains sometimes, and there are things we will and should prioritize above our careers.

No one should have to work themselves to the brink of hospitalization. I know some people do because they don't have any other option, but if you do, please take it. I'd also really encourage you to find some help if you haven't already—there are lots of treatment/support options available for anxiety, and if you have access to any of them, they could really change your life.

Praying for the easing of anxiety, your peace of mind, the bravery to communicate, and an understanding boss/workplace.

<3 Johanna

#asks #prayer requests #i tried to minimize the socialist ranting #but ultimately it's all out of love

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rpmemesbyarat · 3 years

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Hello Tumblr people. I’m 31 years old and I’ve been on Tumblr since 2014. That’s not really old, and that’s not really a long time, but I know it’s older and longer than a lot of other folks. Tumblr is a space mainly populated by teens and twenties, and I know when I was in that age group, I thought 31 was a Real Adult (TM) Which, shit, it’s not, it’s really not, especially not for me, but nonetheless, I have learned some things in my time that I wish I could impart to my younger self, and instead will impart to y’all. Take what you like and what works for you and leave the rest, I’m no expert or guru or authority on anything, I’m just trying to be helpful. Being nice costs nothing. I once was standoffish to someone who came and chatted to me in IMs. That guy later died. True story. I feel terrible about it to this day. I was wary and kind of snotty in those days and I regret that. It’s one thing to be careful about strangers approaching but that wasn’t what I did here. It costs nothing to be nice. It costs nothing to be friendly. To do stuff like show interest in others, care about what they have to say, comment when they share things about their day. These are tiny things that cost nothing but give so much. Don’t pass the opportunity by. And definitely don’t snub someone for no reason. If you don’t want to interact, you don’t have to, but don’t be cold about it unless it’s legitimately because you’re uncomfy with this person and want them to go away. Your safety and comfort do come before any obligation to be nice, but I hope it’s clear that’s not what I’m talking about here. Be a candle that lights other candles. You know what else costs nothing? Encouragement. There’s nothing stopping you from telling others what you like about their content, what they post, what they create, what thoughts they have, the things they say, or just how passionate they are about something. There’s nothing stopping you from saying you hope the best for someone going through a rough time, or how cute their pets are, or how you’re glad they got themselves a treat today. You don’t need to be someone’s therapist ---I know I sure don’t have the emotional energy for that--or have solutions for them, you don’t need to force yourself to say anything insincere or that you don’t have the spoons for, but when you can, say something positive to others. First impressions can be wrong but gut feelings are often right. Like I said, being nice should NEVER trump your own comfort or safety. If you get weird vibes from someone, book it. Sure, you could be wrong. I’ve been wrong about a lot of people. I’ve also been right about others, and should have left when I had the chance before they could prove to me how right I was. Technically, there was nothing stopping me. It was online, after all. I could have just vanished and they’d probably never have tracked me down or made contact again. But I was lonely, and socially awkward, and like many people, most of my human contact was online, and I thought that this was worth it. It’s not. Whatever kind of friendship or therapeutic RP or free art or support or compliments or advice you’re getting from someone online. . . it’s not worth it if they’re mean or creepy too. Whatever you are getting, you can find it somewhere else, in someone else, who won’t make you have to put up with that kind of crap for it. If something feels wrong, don’t wait around for it to get worse. Yes, you may be incorrectly judging a situation and running from nothing, but it’s better you run from nothing than NOT run from SOMETHING. And I know that things like anxiety disorders, trauma, and just different communication styles can make it hard to judge these things (I’ve thought people didn’t like me before just because they were far less effusive in their typing style than I am, and I was wrong) but if you really feel uncomfortable, like this person has said mean or sexual things to you, it’s not just the brain weasels telling you lies. If you’re truly in doubt, get another person’s opinion, but also don’t let them convince you “it’s nothing” if it feels like something. Trust yourself. Creeps, like children, will test your boundaries. Kids will do shit just to see what they can get away and how far they can push you before you put your foot down. Creeps are the same. They’ll start with stuff that you can easily ignore, brush off, and put up with without feeling it’s worth ditching the whole friendship over. But they’ll rarely let it stay there. They’ll typically escalate it if they’re not rebuked. Rebuke them. It can be scary. It can be hard. I know this. I know it firsthand. But feel no sympathy. Feel no fear. Tell them off and pack your bags. They want to know how much you’ll put up with? Show them----nothing at all, that’s what. Don’t be afraid to change your views but don’t feel the need to broadcast it. I’m never getting a personal Tumblr. Because I’m glad they weren’t around when I was a teen. I would have posted things I don’t believe now. Same for when I’m in my 20s. And I bet that will the be the case in my 40s, 50s, and 60s too. Our lives are journeys of changing, learning, and unlearning. And that’s great. But if you post every step of your journey for the world to see, there are those who will use it against you, even if it was stuff from years ago that you should be applauded for growing from, not derided for having ever believed in. Not to mention that what’s the most up-to-date woke terminology and politics changes very rapidly, and what was acceptable when I was a teen is not the preferred lingo now, and it’s likely going to keep changing, and there will be people who find your posts and don’t care about that either. I realize Tumblr gives us a format to metaphorically scream our present beliefs and show how right what you believe is, and the urge to reblog when you see something you agree with wholeheartedly is strong. And if you’ve got a blog that doesn’t easily connect back with you, or you don’t plan to have for the next five years, or whatever, go ahead. But if your blog can be easily connected to you, and therefore could be connected to you again in the future, it wouldn’t hurt to be a bit judicious. I’m not saying “don’t take a stand on anything ever because you might change your mind and/or someone might drag you”, I am saying that in the age of cancel culture and people deep digging for ancient receipts, young people are no longer getting to have their journeys, with all their rooms for fuckups and re-thinkings, that I and those before me got to have, and I think that sucks. By all means, take a stand on what you believe in now, fight for it with all your heart, just also don’t make it too easy for other people to use it against you should you ever change your mind---and don’t be afraid to change your mind either, even when it’s against the grain of what’s presently popular opinion. Find things out for yourself when possible You know how when they taught you things in school about history and America and whatnot and now you’ve found out that there’s so much they DIDN’T tell you, and at least half of what they did is a very edited sack of hooey? Well, the same is true of Tumblr, Facebook, and other online spaces as well as real life. We all laugh at our Boomer parents and grandparents who share clearly false stories on Facebook because they can’t tell that it was clearly crafted to incite their anger or endorsement based on how it’s tailored to validate their beliefs, but I see the same thing happen here. Loads of tale gets touted as “true” on Tumblr because they have been made to appeal to us emotionally by validating our beliefs. But just because our beliefs may be good or progressive or what have you, does not mean that everything that appeals to them is going to be true. When you see a post circulating that claims something really cool about history or such is true, I suggest fact-checking it. This will help halt the spread of misinformation---even if it’s harmless---and help you build your critical thinking and research skills. This does not mean “you must change your views” it means “be skeptical even when something validates your views” People on our own side can lie, and that’s not harmless even if it seems so---contributing to a culture of misinformation is NOT harmless, and we’re less likely to be skeptical of claims that validate what we already believe. Don’t fall for this. That’s all. I hope something in here was valuable to you. If not, thank you for reading and I hope you have a great day!

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missvifdor · 3 years

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Alright, I share a quick thought like this, but imagine Bucky having the DID (be careful, I want to make it clear that I'm not an expert and any mistakes on my part are unintentional and I'm sorry for being so stupid The DID is not a joke, it is a real trouble and I would never allow myself to laugh or joke about it).

So I was saying, Bucky having DID:

Thinking back to all the traumatic moments in his life, it would be easy enough to think that he could have had it. Imagine that at one point his brain and mind say "STOP" and no longer able to cope with all these events, decide that in order to survive, he must create a "shield" (I don't know if I am speaking correctly, sorry if that doesn't make sense).

Because if I'm not saying bullshit, that's what the host's DID is for, to protect it and that's where the Alters come in. The basis of the DID is that the host not supposed to know he has it.

But all the time, there will be signs: amnesia, dissociative disorder, depersonalization, derealization,. Imagine, one day, everything is going well, you get ready to go to sleep and then when you wake up, the date, the time have completely changed, you are now dressed and you have no memory of having lived this. that happened after you last remembered.

Now imagine Bucky going through the same thing, he'd be pretty scared I think.

Bucky would have these symptoms, but not just that. For example, he might feel like he has feelings, thoughts, moods, or anything else that is not ... his but belongs to someone else. Or he would hear voices talking to him (Wait, this has nothing to do with schizophrenia, the voices heard cannot be suppressed with medication and to the host this is really heard as a person's voice real voice or an interlocutor. These are real voices).

You know when we think and hear a voice but it is that of our subconscious, and well that is still different.

(I won't procrastinate any longer, but if you are interested, I advise you to inform yourself to find out more. For example, there is a youtube channel that talks about it because the designer has DID, she and other affected people talk about it here: https://youtu.be/ek7JK6pattE ).

Back to our Super Soldier:

Bucky, like anyone with DID will have both good and bad triggers.

The good ones would be: Music from the 40s, his favorite food, something that reminds him of his sister or mother, etc.

The bad ones: Something or someone who could bring back bad memories, maybe the language Russian, the pain linked to his metal arm, the situations where he cannot feel comfortable or very anxious, a dangerous mission that has gone off the rails a bit.

Let's talk about his Alters: The Winter Soldier will have taken a big place in his life and I think he probably never left him because he is part of him.

So I would lean towards the fact that Winter (let's call him that) has become one of his Alters. It would have become this:

Alter Trauma Holder and Persecutor: some of his tasks are to hold traumatic memories ... especially so that other Alters are not not disturbed by these memories and that the system works more or less. And often, well, trauma holders do not voluntarily choose this role, they are there because the brain did it like that and it can seem very unfair!

It is common that in addition to h: And, even when they do, sometimes they just aren't able to pass it on to the rest of the system and, unfortunately, to the outside either. This is one of the reasons why it is very difficult for a system to find and manage trauma or to talk to a therapist, for example. This is one of the reasons why it is very difficult for a system to find and manage trauma or to talk to a therapist, for example.

Trauma holders are also It called “Secret Keepers / Secret Holders”.

Her Part Persecutor: To put it mildly, the "Persecutor" is an alter who is hostile to the system or the outside world . Well, obviously, it’s nowhere near that simple.

In general, persecutors are alters who have internalized hatred or rejection, either towards themselves, towards other members of the system, or towards the outside world. It is a traumatic response that follows physical abuse, toxic relationships and assaults experienced by the system. Like the protectors, the persecutors seek to prevent further attacks, attack in defense or suffer for the rest of the system. But they ... don't always do it the right way.

There are different kinds of persecutors, some tend to reject any outside person, others may have internal words and feelings of worthlessness, still others may sabotage a possible therapy for fear of the medical profession, then of others can re-experience their traumas, injure themselves, etc… They are very often hyperviligant and easily activated.

They are sometimes very withdrawn and influenced by feelings causing for example a strong anxiety or suicidal thoughts. But they can also be authoritarian and seek to impose behavior on the rest of the system, considering that the others are incapable of protecting themselves and are responsible for the abuses suffered. Finally, some persecutors are a representation of aggressors and persecute the system like these. The persecutors are above all persecuted by trauma and in particular they need to be secure. It is very common that, once appeased, they become essential protectors of the system.

Here's another Alter, James: It would be quite similar to the Bucky of the 40s but different at the same time.

He would be an Alter Internal Self Helper: The "Internal Self Helper" is an alter that helps the system internally. It is not uncommon for ISHs to serve as some sort of mediator to the rest of the system, as if they were "the voice of reason."

They often have a good knowledge of Alters and how the system works (but this does not mean that they easily share this information). They are also often discreet, facing little or not at all or only side by side with another alter.

Internal self helpers are often associated with the creation and management of the innerworld, especially when it was conceived unconsciously.

ISH is a frequent supporting role among gatekeepers, protectors and sometimes among trauma holders.

And Bucky would be the host: Host "refers to the alter who fronts most of the time ... when all is well. And this nuance is important!

Indeed, the “Host” is a bit like the basic Alter, the one who is there when there is no need for any other Alter, no triggers, and no Alter is needed wanted to face. In principle, he manages the day-to-day life, so you would think that it is indeed the alter that uses the body most often, yes. But no.

A system is frequently affected by all the little things in life, whether or not it requires the presence of another Alter at the front. And, especially when it is not conscious, it can be common for another alter (social or protective, for example) to be more present than the host. It all depends on the environment of the system and the awareness of its multiplicity as well as the choices and possibilities of each of its members.

For this reason, there are systems without a host (or with a sleeping host) as well as systems with multiple hosts (which are then called co-hosts), which handle different aspects of the day-to-day. good. Of course, the hosts can also have another role, such as caretaker or alter social.e for example. It may also happen that a new host appears and the system changes hosts.

The host is a role that can be difficult to take in at times, as it is often the first alter to become consciously aware (yes, consciously aware) of his multiplicity. And it's already not easy to realize that we "are not alone in your head", but it is also difficult to realize that you have shared your whole life with "these others people in his head ”. It is very common for the host to doubt his legitimacy, to be afraid of lying, etc. They are often influenced by the feelings, thoughts and feelings of other Alters.

On the other hand, the host can usually be an alter who allows for better communication, as he or she serves as a bit of a mediator, conciliatory and benevolent towards the system and the outside world, while being held to it 'deviation from the consequences (emotional for example) of traumas. A stable host is an important basis for functional multiplicity.

Be careful, it must be said: the host is not the original! Many systems don't have an original, and while you might think the host is some kind of original, it isn't. Of course, if there is an original in the system, it can be a host. But, whether host and / or original, all Alters should be considered equally. (Really, for this to work, it's important to understand this)

Otherwise, a person with DID may have other Alters, the number can vary and they are all different!

Now, how would it be if Bucky had a Y / N ? Would other people in the system agree with that? Would Y / N manage and understand this situation? That is the whole question.

But let's imagine that in the best-case scenario, Winter and James are ok with this relationship and even have feelings for Y / N, it will still be a job all the time.

The best would be someone who can differentiate the three and act with the three as if they were three different individuals (Who they are and this is very important because each Alter deserves to be recognized).

Being in a relationship with Bucky is a bit like being with a big teddy bear who could easily shoot you in the head with near-deadly precision. And a gentleman under all circumstances, of course.

Being with Winter is complicated enough, but not impossible. You just have to know how to do it and above all succeed in interpreting his looks, his silences. The man is not the biggest talker but know that he would be ready to kill for you and protect you.

As for James his Fronts are very rare but when he will be there, believe me when I tell you that he will not leave you alone with his affections! He is surely the one who is the most sociable of the three and who will take the greatest pleasure in teasing you or improvising a dance with you in the middle of your living room.

Well I have finished! Do not hesitate to tell me what you think of it in the comments, or if you want a part two to find out more in general or to know more about the romantic relationship side + ... SNFW.

#bucky barnes preferences #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #alters #did you know #system #bucky imagine #bucky headcanon #bucky hcs #Tw

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shini--chan · 4 years

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Okay, I've been wracking my brain to think of an ask for you because I know your writing is fire, and I don't want to waste it! If the mood strikes you, can you write a little yandere Levi in a universe of your choosing or constructing? I'm sort of interested to see how you imagine him as a yandere 😊

Thx, fam!

As I told you once before, this is the ask that almost made me forfeit my principal of answering asks chronologically. :P

So, this will be my usual mix of headcanons and Imagines if you don’t mind, since I have a lot of thoughts on this man and just don’t want to stumble into the snare of writing a full length story … yet.

I’ ll also keep this general, since the universe any Levi fic is set in just changes the nuances, and not fundamental character traits.

Also, I have to remark that it is already too late for me - I’m hip deep in academia.

Yandere Levi Ackerman

Captain Levi is a very orderly person, it is part of his lifestyle and how he interacts with others and himself. It is something he is really strict about and he wouldn’t tolerate anything less than perfect hygiene in a lover. To him, there is nothing less disgusting than poor body hygiene and should you start slacking off in anyway when it comes to taking care of yourself, a very fundamental aspect, then he won’t shy away from taking matters in his own hands.

You gasped as a bucket of water was frigidly emptied over head and you threw yourself out as your bed, expecting your assailant to have lunged onto you, should you have remained there.

Instead, he was standing right in front of you.

Somewhat shyly, you looked up into Levi’s pale face and sneered at the accursed object that he was holding in his hand. He sneered right back at you, the corners of his lips curled slightly upwards in disgust. A rather uncommon display of extreme emotion on his part, for being a commonly stoic man.

“Get up!”, he curtly barked to which you stiffly groaned. Sloppily, you got up, still groggy from being rudely awoken and not in the best mood because of it. The water running in rivulets down your body and made your sleep wear cling to your skin didn’t help either.

“What was that for?”, you whined, completely oblivious as to why he was being so imperious to you. What had you done to warrant such poor treatment?

“Don’t get cheeky now, little brat. You didn’t shower last night and went all sweaty to bed. You deserved what I did to you now.”

Him being orderly isn’t restricted to personal cleanliness, it is also about how disciplined a person is with themselves. Having had to live in harsh environments for his whole life, he is a firm believer in pulling yourself up by your own bootstraps. That also means that should you suffer from any mental disorder, trauma induction or not, he wouldn’t be very understanding. Not that he wouldn’t be concerned about your broken state of mind, rather he wouldn’t see how being kind and coddling you would fix it.

“You know brat, if you would stop sulking and feeling sorry for yourself, your life would start getting damn better”, he snarled at your cowered form.

Hunched over the table, you had elected to grab a beer to numb the pain that was ravaging your heart. Watching people die never became easy, especially when they were close to you.

“Just leave me alone”, you begged and raised the tankard to your mouth again. Yet before the wooden rim could touch your lips, it was shamelessly ripped away from you. Levi’s sharp grey eyes were honed on you, the fire of anger dancing in them. Just why did he have to play judge now of all times?

“No, you look like shit and you’re talking shit. Moping around wouldn’t make anything better you idiot. You need to your act together, not get piss drunk.”

Furthermore, he needs to be in control. As soon as he feels like his vice-like grasp over reality is slipping, he does what all people do that are losing their power – he scrambles to re-attain it. And he doesn’t hesitate to utilize violence. On top of that he sees respect given, as power given, so he demands the piety that his position ought to give him. It doesn’t matter that you’re his lover, if anything you ought to give him his due. Rows with him are literally the worst – be prepared to be swept of your feet!

Roughly, you were slammed against the wall in a manner that knocked the wind out of your lungs with a crude sound. It was followed by a gasp as your ears rang from your skull having banged against the stone and your muscles and bones ached.

“What did you just say?”, Levi snarled, a rare look of utter rage on his handsome face. You knew it was a rhetorical question, he had heard you the first time around. But you were too steep in your own anger to not push your luck.

“Don’t be like that, darling”, you spat the last word as if it were poison in your mouth. Warranted actually, since you had been coerced and tricked into this relationship. “I said that maybe you should take a leave out of your superior’s book because all your shortcomings make you unbearable to be a runt. Somehow, I doubt that would work, though – you’ll always remain a sewer rat at heart.”

A wrong move – those handsome features contorted to something utterly ghastly.

“You know we wouldn’t have such problems if you could control that attitude of yours. And if you would show me respect”, he hissed as he pressed you further against the wall, so that you were sandwiched between stone and muscles to a painful degree. The hands grasping you by the front of your clothing didn’t help either.

Lips twisting into a snarl of your own, you countered: “Respect is supposed to be earned, Captain. I will only respect you if you respect me.” You were really insistent on digging yourself your own grave, weren’t you?

“You’re much prettier if you keep that mouth of yours shut.

“Consider the feeling to be mutual, brat. Why should I give you any respect if you won’t give me any? And remember, I’m above you, so I don’t owe you anything. You owe me the world.”

Levi also has a strict set of rules that he expects you to follow to the dot. A fair warning, however, he may change the one or the other spontaneously and not inform you of it until you’re bent over his desk. Also, it is common knowledge that he endorses corporal punishment and celebrates pain as a prim method to install discipline. He really thinks that bad behaviour can be beat out of somebody. He is also exceptionally cruel with his punishments. This can be traced back to how he was desensitized to violence at a relatively early age and revels in have people submit to him.

You had barely set foot in his study when he looked up from his paperwork and ordered you: “Come over here, and bend over the desk.”

Shocked by his harsh words, you nevertheless complied. You knew that resistance would only make matters worse. Still, as you bend over and pressed your cheek against the cool oak you asked: “What did I do wrong this time?”

Briefly, he stopped rummaging through the chest that stood by the window and glanced over his shoulder.

“Are you serious? Don’t you already know? And I though you weren’t so goddamn stupid”, he snapped.

Finally, having found what he was searching for, he turned towards you again. There was a semi-bored expression gracing his visage as he drawled: “I told you a thousand times before, pet. When you are finished with your afternoon chores you are to come directly to me. No chit-chat with somebody else, no fooling about and yet you disobey me again and again. Your ears really are just for decoration.”

You opened your mouth to protest but he carelessly cut you off: “I don’t care if they are your friends, you don’t need them. You just need me.”

Upon that you fell silent and closed your eyes in hopelessness as you waited for your punishment to commence. When do pain came after a minute of silence you dared to open your eyes and glance back.

Seeing that you were focused on him, Levi cleared his throat as if to say “Aren’t you forgetting something?” Then you remember and with a great amount of shame you bared your bottom and meekly requested: “Please Levi, my love, spank me thoroughly.”

As usual, it sickened you that he made you ask to be punished. It was his way of normalizing and justifying his abuse. And conditioning you.

A dark chuckle rumbled in his throat as he grabbed you by the nap as he pressed you against his desk. “There is a good little pet”, he whispered as leather made contact with your supple flesh.

This man has a difficult time warming up to people. All the agony of losing those that meant the world to him repeatedly has caused him to become cold and reserved. That means that in his mind, you should view it as a privilege that you are the love of his life. Because of that, he won’t accept rejection. Also, since he hasn’t had somebody really close to him in ages, he will be very clingy and overprotective. The world has the habit of robbing him, so you won’t allow you to be stolen as well. Not to forget that he is a man of action – being passive or also relying on words to solve situations just isn’t his style.

Your skin was on fire due to his ministrations, or rather because of the disgust they evoked. The arm around your waist that pressed you against him made you want to claw at his skin and his lips against the tender skin of your neck made you want to throttle him.

Yet you knew that it was just wishful thinking. Engaging in such protest would be futile since he was stronger and quicker than you.

“Look here Levi, I told you…”, you tried to reason with him but he just silenced your objection:

“Shush, sweetheart. Don’t ruin the moment.”

Then he resumed kissing your neck and collar bone, sometimes tugging at your skin with teeth in order to cause bruises. You tensed as his free hand snaked down your leg and hooked itself under your knee.

The captain is a military man and fairly intelligent. He knows how to deal with an enemy, how to assess their strengths and weaknesses and how to keep them contained. And also, how to best combat them and capture them. He really is the worst opponent you could meet on the battlefield.

So how to evade him? You take him off the battlefield, place him in a situation where aggression can’t help him achieve his goals. He is a military man, as said before, so he is accustomed to low context communication – words must be direct, and you must mean what you say so that they are no muck-ups. Little conversation and more orders and demands. Levi doesn’t have a silver tongue to begin with, quite the contrary actually.

That means he cares a bit for codes, since they are of use to him in his branch of expertise. But he cares little for symbolism since he has categorised that as sappy nonsense reserved for romantics. So, you have an avenue to express yourself that he won’t catch up on unless somebody explicitly told him what it meant. Consider yourself lucky, it is exactly this that will prevent you from going insane.

“Flowers? Again?”, he gruffly asked.

It made you look up from the novel you were reading to see him eyeing the tansy and peonies that you had placed in a vase on the nightstand.

You had to suppress a smirk and work to keep the self-satisfaction out of your voice as you meekly inquired: “They are there to give a bit more colour to the room. I can always put them away if you want.”

You were being obedient to him for a change and that was why he decided to allow you a few luxuries. Besides, since you were so affectionate in the past two months, why shouldn't he return it with gestures of his own.

“Keep them. I’ll just never understand why you like them so much”, he answered and then stalked over to the bathroom. Of course he would never comprehend it, with his spartan and austere tastes, just like you would never understand that the small yellow flowers meant ‘I declare war on you!’ or that the orange lilies that had been there a few days ago actually proclaimed your hatred for him.

Hopefully, he would never find out.

Intelligence doesn’t automatically mean that he is omnipotent or that he is an all-powerful overlord. It just means that he is quick to comprehend tactics and strategies and devise his own. He isn’t immune to mistakes. So, when he ropes you in, in his games, you have to play a wholly different game of your own if you want to get out. Military, remember? There are many walks of life that he is unfamiliar with, many possibilities for you to escape his clutches that he wouldn’t even account for.

Giddily, you smiled at yourself in the mirror. You barely recognized yourself, with all the paint and heavy cloth that decorated your body. Levi didn’t either, just how it was supposed to be.

You had spotted him in the audience as you had pranced about the stage, looking very disgruntled at not having you by his side or locked up in his quarters. Even you had heard the rumours of how a few days ago he had flown into a frenzy, searching high and low for something.

You were one of the few that knew it was someone and that someone was you. Knowing him as well as you did, you made the fair guess that he also wasn’t here by his own volition, rather his comrades had dragged him here in an attempt to distract him.

And you also knew that had looked everywhere he presumed you to be – in the forest, somewhere tucked away in his estate, in the taverns and at the city borders and at the docks. Just not amongst the theatre troop.

That would probably stay that way, and you could use the opportunity to escape him.

Adding to the fact that he is bad at expressing himself like a normal human being, he is also very emotional underneath that stoic veneer. In combat situations, he has an outlet for all his pent-up emotions. Else you have to suffer his outbursts and mood swings. Nonetheless, the world isn’t a gigantic battlefield and if the right buttons are pushed, he could lose it at exactly the wrong time and place. Levi would lose badly at the game favoured in the royal courts of provoking-the-other-until-they-embarrass-themselves.

Levi was very close to unleashing his unholy rage and as a precaution, you had taken to stepping out of range. While you found the whole situation very amusing, you didn’t want to get caught in the crossfire.

“…however, since you come short on some things, I don’t expect you to understand that. Should I repeat what I said, in bitesize chunks so that you don’t lag behind this time”, the nobleman prattled while he looked down on your “lover”.

Said man pressed through gritted teeth: “You filthy swine, go stuff all your pretty words up your ass.”

The noble emitted a fake gasp and murmured aghast: “You really are so crass. The rumours of you being a dwarf barbarian are true.”

That was the last straw for Levi. In the following minutes, a small crowd gathered to see what the commotion was all about and it ended in the guards having to restrain him. Really, it was hypocritical of the Ackerman to threaten you about causing a scene when he was the one prone to temper tantrums.

#yandere levi #yandere attack on titan #yandere aot #yandere snk #yandere x reader #x reader #yandere levi x reader #my writing #yandere levi ackerman

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anxietysroomsupport · 3 years

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Hypermobile anon here. First, thank you so much. It's just nice to know there's someone here for me. And to give a little more info, I have a serious problem where if I'm not currently in pain. I don't remember how bad it was. I know everybody does this, but my brain literally checked out as I was going to bed recently and I fell on the floor. I nearly forgot to tell my physical therapist.about it because it didn't really hurt. So, I can't do the pain scale very well, and I never remember (1/2)

(2/2) It just makes it sort of hard for pain relief when I don't know I'm going to need it and don't have the energy when I do. Also, on the vitamin subject, I know that I've had vitamin d issues before (bad heat exhaustion and allergy scares = going outside less), bad enough that I was close to being diagnosed with hypothyroidism. I'm not sure about the others, but I do know I'm not amazing healthy, so? I take calcium pills for the vitamin d, though. Again, thank you guys for all your help.

We just got a bill from my PT place that says we owe money that we can't pay. They told us up front how much it would be with our insurance, and my mom's been paying each time, but it says we owe 177 dollars. Sure, it's not a lot, but we're not rich and trying to send a sibling to college. If we can't get this sorted out. I can't just not go. 10 exercises I can do at home and 5 appointments is not enough to help a chronic disorder. I cant focus and I have practice in 30 mins. -Hypermobility anon

Same day but later when I'm feeling a little better (my director was very supportive though so that's nice), I'd seen the letter and heard my parents talking a bit, but my mom told be as we got to school for rehearsal about PT. I got upset, and I felt bad because I could tell she felt bad because she didn't expect me to be upset, and in the heat of the moment I said "chronic illness" in front of my mom for the first time. She loudly (not quite yelling) (1/?) - Hypermobility anon

said to me "That is the most self-pitying thing I've ever heard. Chronic illnesses are like cancer". Sure, I probably should've said disorder and not illness, but I'm scientifically right. Then I said "It is, it's chronic pain, I am always in pain" and she said "Well then clearly PT isn't helping anyway" - I??? When I went in after 15 minutes after another girl, since we were both there for an hour and a half, I decided to stop trying too much to hide my crying (useful masks) (2/?) -HSD anon

since the other girl was in the hall to eat, and when I managed to explain to the director, she was understanding and nice, and when I said chronic, she said that I should never have to live with that, especially at my age. And when I mentioned not being able to sing at that moment from my crying, she pointed out how I was singing an empowering song that was about standing against the bad stuff in life, and I was perfect for it. I know my mom was just mad, but it just drained me.

Sorry I keep sending asks so often, I just feel like telling someone this. I decided to put 'zebra' in my bio. It's a thing that people with EDS and HSD sometimes like to call themselves. I like it, so even though I just have my name and pronouns, plus a random joke, in my bio, I added it. It just feels like a step in the right direction to remembering that I don't need google to tell me I'm dealing with this every 5 minutes. Accepting it, I guess. :) -HSD anon

My sleep schedule just keeps getting worse and I think it's my ADHD combined busy days and pain but I just never want to sleep anymore. I can't, I don't want to, and it hurts physically and mentally to just lie there and see if I can fall asleep. 80% sure my circadian rhythm changed to sleep at about 2 am but I get up at 7 and have a chronic disorder that's getting worse because of this I *need sleep*. And I'm so scared I'll mess up, want to make a side blog for it but want to make one (1/2)

for something happy first because I always figured that if I had side blogs they would be ask blogs or for fandoms or whatever. But I got a little better at not caring what other people think, so I haven't really needed one for fandom. But I looked through the tag and felt so comforted by some of the stuff that I just think it would help me. Maybe I'm just extra bad tonight because I went outside but also talked about it a fair amount with a friend I hadn't seen recently who didn't know. -HSD

I wanna talk to my physical therapist about hip braces because I tried a knee one we have and it honestly helps, but my hips are worst so I wanna see if it would help, but they're pretty expensive. It's hard to find dual hip braces, from what I've seen in my research, and even though one more than the other, both cause me issues. Idk, I'm conflicted, because it could help but is it worth all the effort? Also, even if it's under clothing it's still physical evidence (1/2) -HSD anon

(2/2) of my "invisible" disorder. Also, stopping exercises for a few days because of not feeling well from my covid shot reminded me of just how much time I spend on them, so it's another thing to deal with this. . . Idk, sometimes I just wonder if it would be better to just deal with it. I still have pain anyway, though it might be a little better. Less often, maybe? I don't really remember. It's not stressing at the front of my mind all the time, but the back of it. I'm just conflicted. -HSD

HSD anon here, idk if I mentioned it in an ask already, but recently I had a small breakdown because I was watching something where a character was in a car accident, as was trying to push through having trouble walking even with a hip brace. After a minute, I registered it and just thought "That could be my future". My joints had already been acting up and then they got worse, so I don't know if it was cause and effect? But I don't exactly know what to call it other than a trigger. (1/2)

Physical and emotional effect, at least I'm assuming on physical because I've had a bad reaction to something similar before, but like, I don't have trauma, I think it's more fear of the future. And I don't want to use trigger incorrectly, it's insensitive to those who actually have triggers. I'm just so confused.

Forgot to sign the last ask with 2/2 and HSD, whoops.

Hfnsiwk I'm not ready to walk into PT tomorrow and say that I don't think months of PT have been helping but I have no way to be completely sure because for all I know it's the weather since this is the first year I've known/it's been noticeable. Maybe it's just change, I don't know, but it just feels like such a waste of time if it really didn't help. Plus, I'd stop, and while that'd be great, I do enjoy being stronger, even if it didn't help pain. I have 12 hours and a bad pain day idek. -HSD

Hi Hypermobility Anon,

I think I found all your asks and got them in the correct order. And found your last ask!

I’m so glad you kept writing in. I think you should go ahead and make your side blog - you definitely have enough material for it. Wanting to make a happy side blog also is a great goal to have, but if you don’t know what it will be yet, don’t let that prevent you from doing something you know you want to do and that will probably help you.

You are dealing with So. Much. Your mom especially sounds like she just is not ready to accept the situation. It’s not self-pity to state your actual conditions. It’s just reality.

Forgetting about pain is normal, and really all you can do is try to write it down or make some kind of note about it in the moment or immediately after, so you can refer to it later. Maybe you can track your pain events in your phone notes.

I think your idea to add “zebra” to your bio is a good one, this is part of your life and just something you have to deal with. It sounds like you’re finding a community for this.

Sleep schedules are tricky, and feeling like you desperately need to sleep can make it so stressful that it starts a vicious little cycle. Some strategies to get around this are First, remember that just resting is okay and helpful too, even if you don’t fall asleep. Letting your body lay there to rest is good for you.

Second, if you’ve spent several minutes laying down without falling asleep, its okay to get up and walk around, or any small light exercise that’s comfortable for you. The goal with this one is to get out of the bed for a bit. It will help your brain to re-learn that the bed is for sleeping only, not for laying awake. That association can help signal to your brain to start its sleep-process when you get into bed at night.

Third, it’s really common to have a changing circadian rhythm during your teens and twenties. That’s just a thing that happens and you can’t do much about it, so just try not to worry too much. Sleep when it feels right and when you can, instead of trying to force yourself to sleep when you’re “supposed” to.

If hip braces would help you, you should definitely at least mention it to your physical therapist. You might research online for any used ones as well. A physical sign that you have pain can have good and bad consequences, but I think the good consequence of being in less pain far outweighs any others.

The triggering event you described is not so much a trigger as it is just a genuinely really upsetting situation. You related really strongly to the character you were watching, because they’re dealing with similar problems to you, and to problems you could have in the future. It’s a lot to process. But while you could potentially be in a car accident, remember that television is made to dramatize events and probably made it seem a lot more difficult and scary than it really would be.

Since we know you sometimes forget your pain, it’s safe to say that the exercises are helping you manage it, and you say that they’ve made you stronger in general. Those are good things, and I would recommend you continue the exercises you can do on your own even if you end of ending your physical therapy sessions. We don’t know yet if your pain might have gotten even worse without therapy. You’ll have to find that out on your own if you stop exercising, and then decide whether it’s more worth it to you to continue exercising or to live with the pain. Whichever you choose, it’s Your choice, Your body. Take care of yourself. <3

-bun

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creaturebehavior · 2 years

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since getting sober and receiving that BPD diagnosis, i have been paying close attention to my thoughts and my behaviors and my emotions. i know i talk about this a lot on this blog. and i just came here to say that the evidence does not stop adding up. i cannot think of any other explanation for why i am the way i am. and i have been reflecting on all that’s gone on inside me over the past two years especially, because i became addicted to drugs while i was a teenager it’s hard to decipher what was the drugs, what was the hormones and the angst of being a teen, and what was symptoms of bpd. so while i take my whole life into account, i have been especially focused on the past two years, since i sobered up. because that’s where i can identify what’s actually going on. and time and time again, episode after episode, it becomes clearer and clearer that i really do have bpd. i am paying close attention, thinking maybe someday i will ask for a re-analysis due to my findings. see, i was diagnosed and i felt it fit me, but then when i was released from the psyche ward and was doing an intake with another therapist, who i had just met during that intake, he said his opinion was that BPD should not be diagnosed so hastily and that my case would benefit from being further examined. he said that the BPD diagnosis was officially on my file, and it has been on many other files since then. see, this therapist wasn’t my primary therapist, he just worked at the inpatient rehab that i went to, so i never got a confirmation on his opinion on my diagnosis. but to me, i felt so much that the diagnosis of BPD was true, and it’s something i have felt for the longest time that i probably had. i know i’ve made this exact post like 100 times. but i am just more and more convinced, with each passing moment of each passing day that this is what i have. i have trouble believing it could be anything else. there was awhile i thought well maybe it’s just ptsd. and while i do have that diagnosis as well, i believe it is co-morbid with BPD. there is not a doubt in my mind. i keep coming on here to say this because i find peace in the reaffirmation of this diagnosis. because it explains everything. it explains everything i do, think, feel. and i guess i feel some unrest because i felt so secure in the diagnosis and then this other therapist said in his opinion it was diagnosed too quickly. but to me, it’s the only diagnosis that’s every explained everything. it explains everything. and i am tired of feeling like i can’t say for sure what my diagnosis is. it’s on my file. i was diagnosed with BPD, and i personally believe with everything in me that I have it. i understand that one therapists opinion, but who cares if i got diagnosed after one week in the psych ward, after retailing my life history? and i know i already made a post like a month ago that was like “i have it, i was diagnosed with it, it feels true to me, so i’m going to say i have it” but i am just here to say it again. because i feel i need to reaffirm it to myself. and i feel the need to explain myself even though probably no one is going to read this.

i just want to make sure it’s clear to everyone that this is official. i don’t even honestly feel i need to be re-evaluated because there is no way this could be anything else. i have borderline personality disorder. i know for sure that i do. there is no way that i don’t. there is too much evidence supporting this diagnosis for it to not be true. this is my truth. i have borderline personality disorder and i feel that until i face this fact and stop questioning my own gut feeling that i will not be able to get the help that i need for this and i will not be able to fully support myself how i need to.

i realize this may sound silly or ridiculous. “it’s just a label” “it’s just a word” whatever. i have claimed in the past that i don’t need a word for it because all i know at the end of the day is that my brain functions differently than other peoples. but that’s not true for me anymore. i need to call it what it is, i need to state it as a fact. because that’s just what it is. it makes it so much easier to call it what it is. borderline personality disorder

#processing #personal

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a-room-of-my-own · 4 years

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This isn’t an easy piece to write, for reasons that will shortly become clear, but I know it’s time to explain myself on an issue surrounded by toxicity. I write this without any desire to add to that toxicity.

For people who don’t know: last December I tweeted my support for Maya Forstater, a tax specialist who’d lost her job for what were deemed ‘transphobic’ tweets. She took her case to an employment tribunal, asking the judge to rule on whether a philosophical belief that sex is determined by biology is protected in law. Judge Tayler ruled that it wasn’t.

My interest in trans issues pre-dated Maya’s case by almost two years, during which I followed the debate around the concept of gender identity closely. I’ve met trans people, and read sundry books, blogs and articles by trans people, gender specialists, intersex people, psychologists, safeguarding experts, social workers and doctors, and followed the discourse online and in traditional media. On one level, my interest in this issue has been professional, because I’m writing a crime series, set in the present day, and my fictional female detective is of an age to be interested in, and affected by, these issues herself, but on another, it’s intensely personal, as I’m about to explain.

All the time I’ve been researching and learning, accusations and threats from trans activists have been bubbling in my Twitter timeline. This was initially triggered by a ‘like’. When I started taking an interest in gender identity and transgender matters, I began screenshotting comments that interested me, as a way of reminding myself what I might want to research later. On one occasion, I absent-mindedly ‘liked’ instead of screenshotting. That single ‘like’ was deemed evidence of wrongthink, and a persistent low level of harassment began.

Months later, I compounded my accidental ‘like’ crime by following Magdalen Burns on Twitter. Magdalen was an immensely brave young feminist and lesbian who was dying of an aggressive brain tumour. I followed her because I wanted to contact her directly, which I succeeded in doing. However, as Magdalen was a great believer in the importance of biological sex, and didn’t believe lesbians should be called bigots for not dating trans women with penises, dots were joined in the heads of twitter trans activists, and the level of social media abuse increased.

I mention all this only to explain that I knew perfectly well what was going to happen when I supported Maya. I must have been on my fourth or fifth cancellation by then. I expected the threats of violence, to be told I was literally killing trans people with my hate, to be called cunt and bitch and, of course, for my books to be burned, although one particularly abusive man told me he’d composted them.

What I didn’t expect in the aftermath of my cancellation was the avalanche of emails and letters that came showering down upon me, the overwhelming majority of which were positive, grateful and supportive. They came from a cross-section of kind, empathetic and intelligent people, some of them working in fields dealing with gender dysphoria and trans people, who’re all deeply concerned about the way a socio-political concept is influencing politics, medical practice and safeguarding. They’re worried about the dangers to young people, gay people and about the erosion of women’s and girl’s rights. Above all, they’re worried about a climate of fear that serves nobody – least of all trans youth – well.

I’d stepped back from Twitter for many months both before and after tweeting support for Maya, because I knew it was doing nothing good for my mental health. I only returned because I wanted to share a free children’s book during the pandemic. Immediately, activists who clearly believe themselves to be good, kind and progressive people swarmed back into my timeline, assuming a right to police my speech, accuse me of hatred, call me misogynistic slurs and, above all – as every woman involved in this debate will know – TERF.

If you didn’t already know – and why should you? – ‘TERF’ is an acronym coined by trans activists, which stands for Trans-Exclusionary Radical Feminist. In practice, a huge and diverse cross-section of women are currently being called TERFs and the vast majority have never been radical feminists. Examples of so-called TERFs range from the mother of a gay child who was afraid their child wanted to transition to escape homophobic bullying, to a hitherto totally unfeminist older lady who’s vowed never to visit Marks & Spencer again because they’re allowing any man who says they identify as a woman into the women’s changing rooms. Ironically, radical feminists aren’t even trans-exclusionary – they include trans men in their feminism, because they were born women.

But accusations of TERFery have been sufficient to intimidate many people, institutions and organisations I once admired, who’re cowering before the tactics of the playground. ‘They’ll call us transphobic!’ ‘They’ll say I hate trans people!’ What next, they’ll say you’ve got fleas? Speaking as a biological woman, a lot of people in positions of power really need to grow a pair (which is doubtless literally possible, according to the kind of people who argue that clownfish prove humans aren’t a dimorphic species).

So why am I doing this? Why speak up? Why not quietly do my research and keep my head down?

Well, I’ve got five reasons for being worried about the new trans activism, and deciding I need to speak up.

Firstly, I have a charitable trust that focuses on alleviating social deprivation in Scotland, with a particular emphasis on women and children. Among other things, my trust supports projects for female prisoners and for survivors of domestic and sexual abuse. I also fund medical research into MS, a disease that behaves very differently in men and women. It’s been clear to me for a while that the new trans activism is having (or is likely to have, if all its demands are met) a significant impact on many of the causes I support, because it’s pushing to erode the legal definition of sex and replace it with gender.

The second reason is that I’m an ex-teacher and the founder of a children’s charity, which gives me an interest in both education and safeguarding. Like many others, I have deep concerns about the effect the trans rights movement is having on both.

The third is that, as a much-banned author, I’m interested in freedom of speech and have publicly defended it, even unto Donald Trump.

The fourth is where things start to get truly personal. I’m concerned about the huge explosion in young women wishing to transition and also about the increasing numbers who seem to be detransitioning (returning to their original sex), because they regret taking steps that have, in some cases, altered their bodies irrevocably, and taken away their fertility. Some say they decided to transition after realising they were same-sex attracted, and that transitioning was partly driven by homophobia, either in society or in their families.

Most people probably aren’t aware – I certainly wasn’t, until I started researching this issue properly – that ten years ago, the majority of people wanting to transition to the opposite sex were male. That ratio has now reversed. The UK has experienced a 4400% increase in girls being referred for transitioning treatment. Autistic girls are hugely overrepresented in their numbers.

The same phenomenon has been seen in the US. In 2018, American physician and researcher Lisa Littman set out to explore it. In an interview, she said:

‘Parents online were describing a very unusual pattern of transgender-identification where multiple friends and even entire friend groups became transgender-identified at the same time. I would have been remiss had I not considered social contagion and peer influences as potential factors.’

Littman mentioned Tumblr, Reddit, Instagram and YouTube as contributing factors to Rapid Onset Gender Dysphoria, where she believes that in the realm of transgender identification ‘youth have created particularly insular echo chambers.’

Her paper caused a furore. She was accused of bias and of spreading misinformation about transgender people, subjected to a tsunami of abuse and a concerted campaign to discredit both her and her work. The journal took the paper offline and re-reviewed it before republishing it. However, her career took a similar hit to that suffered by Maya Forstater. Lisa Littman had dared challenge one of the central tenets of trans activism, which is that a person’s gender identity is innate, like sexual orientation. Nobody, the activists insisted, could ever be persuaded into being trans.

The argument of many current trans activists is that if you don’t let a gender dysphoric teenager transition, they will kill themselves. In an article explaining why he resigned from the Tavistock (an NHS gender clinic in England) psychiatrist Marcus Evans stated that claims that children will kill themselves if not permitted to transition do not ‘align substantially with any robust data or studies in this area. Nor do they align with the cases I have encountered over decades as a psychotherapist.’

The writings of young trans men reveal a group of notably sensitive and clever people. The more of their accounts of gender dysphoria I’ve read, with their insightful descriptions of anxiety, dissociation, eating disorders, self-harm and self-hatred, the more I’ve wondered whether, if I’d been born 30 years later, I too might have tried to transition. The allure of escaping womanhood would have been huge. I struggled with severe OCD as a teenager. If I’d found community and sympathy online that I couldn’t find in my immediate environment, I believe I could have been persuaded to turn myself into the son my father had openly said he’d have preferred.

When I read about the theory of gender identity, I remember how mentally sexless I felt in youth. I remember Colette’s description of herself as a ‘mental hermaphrodite’ and Simone de Beauvoir’s words: ‘It is perfectly natural for the future woman to feel indignant at the limitations posed upon her by her sex. The real question is not why she should reject them: the problem is rather to understand why she accepts them.’

As I didn’t have a realistic possibility of becoming a man back in the 1980s, it had to be books and music that got me through both my mental health issues and the sexualised scrutiny and judgement that sets so many girls to war against their bodies in their teens. Fortunately for me, I found my own sense of otherness, and my ambivalence about being a woman, reflected in the work of female writers and musicians who reassured me that, in spite of everything a sexist world tries to throw at the female-bodied, it’s fine not to feel pink, frilly and compliant inside your own head; it’s OK to feel confused, dark, both sexual and non-sexual, unsure of what or who you are.

I want to be very clear here: I know transition will be a solution for some gender dysphoric people, although I’m also aware through extensive research that studies have consistently shown that between 60-90% of gender dysphoric teens will grow out of their dysphoria. Again and again I’ve been told to ‘just meet some trans people.’ I have: in addition to a few younger people, who were all adorable, I happen to know a self-described transsexual woman who’s older than I am and wonderful. Although she’s open about her past as a gay man, I’ve always found it hard to think of her as anything other than a woman, and I believe (and certainly hope) she’s completely happy to have transitioned. Being older, though, she went through a long and rigorous process of evaluation, psychotherapy and staged transformation. The current explosion of trans activism is urging a removal of almost all the robust systems through which candidates for sex reassignment were once required to pass. A man who intends to have no surgery and take no hormones may now secure himself a Gender Recognition Certificate and be a woman in the sight of the law. Many people aren’t aware of this.

We’re living through the most misogynistic period I’ve experienced. Back in the 80s, I imagined that my future daughters, should I have any, would have it far better than I ever did, but between the backlash against feminism and a porn-saturated online culture, I believe things have got significantly worse for girls. Never have I seen women denigrated and dehumanised to the extent they are now. From the leader of the free world’s long history of sexual assault accusations and his proud boast of ‘grabbing them by the pussy’, to the incel (‘involuntarily celibate’) movement that rages against women who won’t give them sex, to the trans activists who declare that TERFs need punching and re-educating, men across the political spectrum seem to agree: women are asking for trouble. Everywhere, women are being told to shut up and sit down, or else.

I’ve read all the arguments about femaleness not residing in the sexed body, and the assertions that biological women don’t have common experiences, and I find them, too, deeply misogynistic and regressive. It’s also clear that one of the objectives of denying the importance of sex is to erode what some seem to see as the cruelly segregationist idea of women having their own biological realities or – just as threatening – unifying realities that make them a cohesive political class. The hundreds of emails I’ve received in the last few days prove this erosion concerns many others just as much. It isn’t enough for women to be trans allies. Women must accept and admit that there is no material difference between trans women and themselves.

But, as many women have said before me, ‘woman’ is not a costume. ‘Woman’ is not an idea in a man’s head. ‘Woman’ is not a pink brain, a liking for Jimmy Choos or any of the other sexist ideas now somehow touted as progressive. Moreover, the ‘inclusive’ language that calls female people ‘menstruators’ and ‘people with vulvas’ strikes many women as dehumanising and demeaning. I understand why trans activists consider this language to be appropriate and kind, but for those of us who’ve had degrading slurs spat at us by violent men, it’s not neutral, it’s hostile and alienating.

Which brings me to the fifth reason I’m deeply concerned about the consequences of the current trans activism.

I’ve been in the public eye now for over twenty years and have never talked publicly about being a domestic abuse and sexual assault survivor. This isn’t because I’m ashamed those things happened to me, but because they’re traumatic to revisit and remember. I also feel protective of my daughter from my first marriage. I didn’t want to claim sole ownership of a story that belongs to her, too. However, a short while ago, I asked her how she’d feel if I were publicly honest about that part of my life, and she encouraged me to go ahead.

I’m mentioning these things now not in an attempt to garner sympathy, but out of solidarity with the huge numbers of women who have histories like mine, who’ve been slurred as bigots for having concerns around single-sex spaces.

I managed to escape my first violent marriage with some difficulty, but I’m now married to a truly good and principled man, safe and secure in ways I never in a million years expected to be. However, the scars left by violence and sexual assault don’t disappear, no matter how loved you are, and no matter how much money you’ve made. My perennial jumpiness is a family joke – and even I know it’s funny – but I pray my daughters never have the same reasons I do for hating sudden loud noises, or finding people behind me when I haven’t heard them approaching.

If you could come inside my head and understand what I feel when I read about a trans woman dying at the hands of a violent man, you’d find solidarity and kinship. I have a visceral sense of the terror in which those trans women will have spent their last seconds on earth, because I too have known moments of blind fear when I realised that the only thing keeping me alive was the shaky self-restraint of my attacker.

I believe the majority of trans-identified people not only pose zero threat to others, but are vulnerable for all the reasons I’ve outlined. Trans people need and deserve protection. Like women, they’re most likely to be killed by sexual partners. Trans women who work in the sex industry, particularly trans women of colour, are at particular risk. Like every other domestic abuse and sexual assault survivor I know, I feel nothing but empathy and solidarity with trans women who’ve been abused by men.

So I want trans women to be safe. At the same time, I do not want to make natal girls and women less safe. When you throw open the doors of bathrooms and changing rooms to any man who believes or feels he’s a woman – and, as I’ve said, gender confirmation certificates may now be granted without any need for surgery or hormones – then you open the door to any and all men who wish to come inside. That is the simple truth.

On Saturday morning, I read that the Scottish government is proceeding with its controversial gender recognition plans, which will in effect mean that all a man needs to ‘become a woman’ is to say he’s one. To use a very contemporary word, I was ‘triggered’. Ground down by the relentless attacks from trans activists on social media, when I was only there to give children feedback about pictures they’d drawn for my book under lockdown, I spent much of Saturday in a very dark place inside my head, as memories of a serious sexual assault I suffered in my twenties recurred on a loop. That assault happened at a time and in a space where I was vulnerable, and a man capitalised on an opportunity. I couldn’t shut out those memories and I was finding it hard to contain my anger and disappointment about the way I believe my government is playing fast and loose with womens and girls’ safety.

Late on Saturday evening, scrolling through children’s pictures before I went to bed, I forgot the first rule of Twitter – never, ever expect a nuanced conversation – and reacted to what I felt was degrading language about women. I spoke up about the importance of sex and have been paying the price ever since. I was transphobic, I was a cunt, a bitch, a TERF, I deserved cancelling, punching and death. You are Voldemort said one person, clearly feeling this was the only language I’d understand.

It would be so much easier to tweet the approved hashtags – because of course trans rights are human rights and of course trans lives matter – scoop up the woke cookies and bask in a virtue-signalling afterglow. There’s joy, relief and safety in conformity. As Simone de Beauvoir also wrote, “… without a doubt it is more comfortable to endure blind bondage than to work for one’s liberation; the dead, too, are better suited to the earth than the living.”

Huge numbers of women are justifiably terrified by the trans activists; I know this because so many have got in touch with me to tell their stories. They’re afraid of doxxing, of losing their jobs or their livelihoods, and of violence.

But endlessly unpleasant as its constant targeting of me has been, I refuse to bow down to a movement that I believe is doing demonstrable harm in seeking to erode ‘woman’ as a political and biological class and offering cover to predators like few before it. I stand alongside the brave women and men, gay, straight and trans, who’re standing up for freedom of speech and thought, and for the rights and safety of some of the most vulnerable in our society: young gay kids, fragile teenagers, and women who’re reliant on and wish to retain their single sex spaces. Polls show those women are in the vast majority, and exclude only those privileged or lucky enough never to have come up against male violence or sexual assault, and who’ve never troubled to educate themselves on how prevalent it is.

The one thing that gives me hope is that the women who can protest and organise, are doing so, and they have some truly decent men and trans people alongside them. Political parties seeking to appease the loudest voices in this debate are ignoring women’s concerns at their peril. In the UK, women are reaching out to each other across party lines, concerned about the erosion of their hard-won rights and widespread intimidation. None of the gender critical women I’ve talked to hates trans people; on the contrary. Many of them became interested in this issue in the first place out of concern for trans youth, and they’re hugely sympathetic towards trans adults who simply want to live their lives, but who’re facing a backlash for a brand of activism they don’t endorse. The supreme irony is that the attempt to silence women with the word ‘TERF’ may have pushed more young women towards radical feminism than the movement’s seen in decades.

The last thing I want to say is this. I haven’t written this essay in the hope that anybody will get out a violin for me, not even a teeny-weeny one. I’m extraordinarily fortunate; I’m a survivor, certainly not a victim. I’ve only mentioned my past because, like every other human being on this planet, I have a complex backstory, which shapes my fears, my interests and my opinions. I never forget that inner complexity when I’m creating a fictional character and I certainly never forget it when it comes to trans people.

All I’m asking – all I want – is for similar empathy, similar understanding, to be extended to the many millions of women whose sole crime is wanting their concerns to be heard without receiving threats and abuse.

#Jk Rowling #Jkr #Transgender #Terf #Gender critical #Radfem

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monster42069 · 3 years

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Meds/treatment question abt your chronic illess - has your doctor tried medication for your fibro? My rheumatologist put me on hydroxychloroquine and at one point was considering adding sulfasalazine; I added valacyclovir because i was getting nonstop cold sore breakouts and my fibro seemed to get better than on hydroxychloroquine alone - there are drugs in trial right now based on the hypothesis that fibro is an immune response to hsv-1 infection, which you can have with or without cold sores.

Sometimes what i hear is that doctors don't really know what to do with fibro, i know my psych was surprised i was on hyd for fibro, and I saw your post about your doctor telling you to move more (imo moving *too much* may be the culprit, because there was a time even going on a walk could send me into a flare - healthy exercise for fibro is supposed to progress on a graduated scale) so I was wondering whether meds were accessible for you or had even been offered as an option.

Tangentially related - it's weird she didn't know what could cause a 3 month long period because that's not an uncommon problem and usually has to do with a hormone imbalance - also since you have chronic urinary tract pain, has your doctor considered interstitial cystitis?? Symptoms can vary based on the presence of a period so the co-occurence may be something to pay attention to.

(This got kind of long and I hope it's not irritating because I know "have you tried-?" really can be but to me it's less so when coming from someone who also has chronic illness. Also maybe some of this you already know but I try not to just assume someone knows something esp about illnesses that perplex everyone from patients to researchers bc that feels idk condescending but. Fibro fucking sucks and can be deeply disabling and having doctors go "lol idk" about your symptoms can feel really shitty and demoralizing so I hope you're able to find treatment providers who know their shit and are willing to have a level and open dialogue with you and listen to you without being dismissive)

my doctor won’t consider anything. The new pcp says it’s fibro, old pcp says it’s cfs/me. cfs/me makes more sense than fibro, but i have to go with what my pcp has me diagnosed with.

all i know is that my body doesn’t work anymore, and i can’t stop sleeping. i got sick with the ebstein-barr virus, had a bad fever, then my entire body and brain started to injure itself. this happened at the same time that i had an MRI on my back and hip because it became unbearable to deal with, and they found a tear in my discs, degeneration in my lower back, and that im missing cartilage in my right hip, but there’s a cute little cyst there. i have mild anemia, and yeah. i probably have either/both PCOS and endometriosis because my mother has both. cysts anywhere in my reproductive or urinary tract wouldn’t be a surprise.

this is all ignoring that i have raynaud’s, livedo reticularis, hidradenitis suppurativa/ acne inversa that’s scarred most of my chest and inner thighs and is pretty fucking bothersome to have, and that my teeth are misaligned in a way that absolutely needs braces because it causes re-occurring infections to my mouth and lips. this year, all four of my wisdom teeth decided to break through and all four are impacted, so i’ve had a lot of bleeding in my mouth, infection twice so far, and my regular teeth are already being harmed by it. i can’t afford all of this BS though.

medications are difficult with me because of my thyroid disease, my intestines not working, my mental health + addiction, and psych medications. they tried cymbalta(useless), some muscle relaxers that seemed like sugar pills, a ton of NSAIDS(before we knew i can’t have those due to my GERD and intestines), and a few medications they use for autoimmune disorders. but i’ve never taken what you’ve said. i have a TENS unit that’s better than most people’s, but that doesn’t do much but feel good while it’s turned on to a grossly high setting bc it’s just self harm to distract from it, lol.

i don’t see a rheumatologist because, as my pcp and the half-ass rheumatologist i saw last year say, against all odds in my family history and my symptom resemblance, i don’t have an autoimmune disorder(specifically Lupus is what everyone was assuming). i see a pcp who’s a D.O. and does nothing but send referrals sometimes, put me on a birth control that made me nearly bleed to death, said she now won’t give me birth control or hrt(she wouldn’t anyway because she’s mildly transphobic. normal in my area❤️), and put me on a laxative so i can have a false functional GI tract.

sometimes i see the anesthesiologist like today, but he told me i need surgery this morning, and he can’t do anything but steroid injections if i ever have the money for more sessions of that, but that didn’t help enough for the price last year. so, i guess i won’t see him anymore.

my psych gives me 2700mg gabapentin per day for the nerve pain/restless legs/anxiety. he also gives me 450mg wellbutrin to try to help with energy. i’m supposed to start ketamine, but i can’t find a compound pharmacy that will work with me, to no ones surprise in texas. (edit: we canceled ketamine and he put me on adderall per request to help me get a job)

the type of exercise and PT has to be careful right now because we don’t know what happened to my left side of my back and hips yet. i think i was injured more seriously than i had thought when one of the dogs made me fall on my back at work. which sucks because the bitches fired me for shady reasons, and it would have been nice to have them pay for my potentially needed surgery.

honestly? the medication that helped me the most has been adderall. i act like a fucking idiot while on it, and it’s not healthy- but it’s the only option i have right now. i hope soon that i can stay off of it and try ketamine. i wish MDMA was green-lit, because i’ve heard good about pharmaceutical molly, and that’s my favorite recreational drug </3 still being tested to make sure it’s safe, though.😔

anyway, you aren’t a bother. and it wasn’t an annoying ask. i just don’t really know. i’m in an area with doctors who aren’t the best, hate transsexuals, have god complexes, and i’m out of money. so, yeah. i probably have issues that could be helped or that i’m not diagnosed with, but there’s nothing i can do at this moment but pray and be angry.

i’m gonna get drunk and take the xanax my dad gave me as a fucked up ‘apology’ and control tactic that i am walking into like those boxes with cheese and a string. hoping i pass out soon. thank you genuinely for trying to help, love.

#if i seem bitter (bc i am) it’s not at you.#disability #react

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slimysnaildaddy · 4 years

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Please. We need MC with Tourette's and the brothers/undateables all reacting. Bonus if it's Chaotic!MC.

(For context I told the person asking this to send me this prompt bc I have tourette’s but feel weird abt writing shit on here without being prompted, this isn’t just some random person coming into my askbox like LETS JOKE ABOUT DISABLED PEOPLE i genuinely have TS and told them to do it please don’t flame silver here because he lovely and deserves only good things)

HELL. YES. Get ready for chaos. And I’ll be very careful not to hit the stereotypes, but I am one of the 10% who exhibits coprolalia (the much-lauded swearing symptom of Tourette's, literally meaning “Poop-speak” in Greek) so expect some of that. It should also be noted that I, personally, am completely fine with jokes about tics or laughing when they make for good situational humor, but mocking someone for having tics is a BIG no-no. This does not represent the TS community as a whole and you should always ask the person what level of joking they’re okay with.

I didn’t do all the undateables but this is ridiculous and self-indulgent anyway so no one cares.

Lucifer:

The first time he heard MC tic, it was when he was coming into the HOL after MC had been brought there by Mammon. He heard this puny human shout “SON OF A DONKEY WHORE” at the top of their lungs and automatically assumed they were in the process of being eaten by Beel or something of that nature, so he power walked (though he will deny it later) to their room only to find them casually re-arranging pillows and giving themself an occasional smack to the chest or making a strange yipping sound, perfectly safe.

Once MC explained it to him he simply sighed and came to the conclusion that this is going to be a long, long year.

He does get headaches sometimes, so he’s snapped at MC to keep it down once or twice and gotten chewed out as a result. It really isn’t something you can help, and MC makes that very clear.

Lucifer learned not to say anything of that nature, because somehow MC’s wrath is even worse than Satan’s.

He occasionally finds it hard to tell if MC is having a tic or causing problems intentionally. He wonders if they’re doing that on purpose. He is correct. He wonders if he can stop them. He is incorrect.

After he gets more comfortable with MC and learns the boundaries he will make jokes related to their tics.

“My hovercraft is full of eels!” “Perhaps you should invest in eel-catching equipment.”

If they’re having a bad day where they can’t stop hitting themself or might injure themself because of some of the more unpleasant tics, he will ask them if they need help with something, like a cushion.

Actually cracks up at some of the funnier tics. One time MC got him to spit coffee all over Diavolo with a perfectly timed tic. It was glorious.

Will facepalm if they say/do something particularly inappropriate.

Mammon:

First time he heard (or rather, saw) MC tic it was when he was unlocking the door to the HOL for them for the first time and they made a loud whooping noise and clapped very loudly.

Naturally this startled the shit out of him cause he’s a pissbaby lol. MC didn’t say anything about it cause they were too busy expecting to be murdered by this powerful demon lord who has been just this side of hostile to them ever since meeting them. They didn’t know he’s a pissbaby yet.

After a little while they mentioned “Oh hey i’ve got tourette’s” and here’s how THAT went.

MC: Yeah, I have Tourette’s Syndrome so if I start saying or doing weird stuff-

Mammon: WAIT. Isn’t that the swearing disease. (sighhh)

MC: *deep sigh* only 10% of us have coprolalia-

Mammon, barely remembering ancient Greek: WAIT SO YOU SHIT YOUR PANTS-

Satan tries correcting him but MC cuts him off like “no no, i want him to keep thinking that it’s funny as fuck”

Mc then proceeds to torment Mammon by threatening to shit on his belongings. Keeps him from stealing their wallet.

Literally takes him until he makes a pact with them to get the proper explanation (and to get roasted for making that assumption in the first place)

100% jokes with MC about their tics.

Still gets startled by the more sudden/loud ones and has jumped into Beel’s arms bc of this.

Levi:

First time they did a tic in front of him was when they were trying to figure out how to find Goldie.

“Maybe we should look in the- *starts smacking chest repeatedly* GARGOYLES GARGOYLES ughhh hang on this is gonna take a few minutes to stop GARGOYLES GARGOYLES”

Levi: *white guy blinking gif*

They do not look in the gargoyles.

MC explains it to him and he’s just like “OH I’VE SEEN MOVIES WITH THAT”

MC stares off into the distance like a character from The Office

He ends up being responsible for them having MULTIPLE tics where they imitate anime attack calls or gestures, peppered with occasional magical girl transformation lines.

They say rurin in a cutesy little voice every 5 minutes for a whole week and everyone’s glaring at Levi the whole time.

Thinks some of their tics are REALLY CUTE AND ANIME and is not shy about saying this.

MC: ugh, you know this is a GENUINE DISABILITY, right?

Levi: omg i’m sorry

MC: lol i’m just fucking with you- RURIN~!

Satan:

He noticed MC being a bit twitchy from the moment they arrived, but simply assumed they were nervous and a bit flinchy because of that. Of course, they totally were nervous but also their brain was just like “time to clench all of your muscles at once instead of paying attention to this very important conversation”.

After that he just notices more and more, and honestly he probably reads a lot so it’s likely he already knows about Tourette’s or similar tic disorders, it’s entirely possible that he asks them about it or mentions it casually in conversation.

Is honestly fascinated by their tics and what can trigger them, when they’re more or less frequent, things that cause them to get better or worse, etc etc. MC may have to actually tell him to stop treating them like a case study.

Or, even better, they may just intentionally fuck up his observations.

Knows a thing or two about how it feels to not be able to control yourself when upset. Whenever MC gets a tic attack he’s ready. He looked this up.

Tries not to crack up when they say or do objectively funny shit but sometimes a tic is times just PERFECTLY and he can’t help but snort.

Asmo:

The first time he heard them tic it was a mild disaster.

“Kissy poo~”

“OH YOU WANT ME TO KISS YOU?”

“nonono wait-”

Thinks some of the tics are cute and will absolutely let MC know. Even if they tell him to fuck off lol.

He sees a nasty bruise from one of MC’s more unpleasant tics (eg: chest smacking, slamming their head/arm into something on accident from a flailing tic) and doesn’t just have a cow, he has the entire damn pasture. MC simply CANNOT have such marks on their gorgeous skin! Don’t worry, he’s got creams and makeup for that :^)

Is a little too enthusiastic about offering to help MC relax if they’re having a bad tic day. He suggests massages. Massages are always good.

He’s happy to provide the massages.

Please MC let him give you a massage.

Beel:

First time he saw them tic it was during breakfast and they whistled very loudly right next to him.

His poor ears :( how could you hurt him in this way MC

Once they explained it he was like “Oh. Okay.” and moved on with his life.

He gets the whole “having urges to do shit you shouldn’t do” aka eating something he shouldn’t. He does his best to distract MC if they’re having bad tics.

mc: oh sorry i just need to touch something haha tourette’s is wild right *full on grabs beel’s chest* beel: :?

MC can ask him to restrain them if they’re having a really bad time with stuff and he’s more than strong enough to help lol. UNLIKE MY MOTHER SORRY MOM

Always apologizes if he accidentally triggers a tic.

MC starts climbing on him. Tourette’s compels them. He allows it. Jungly gym beel?

No lie I have a tic that’s just me saying “I eat worms!” in a cutesy voice and- IMAGINE

Belphie:

First time he saw them tic it was while he was still in the attic, they started jerking their head around during a late night visit and he was like what the fuck are you doing-

Thought it was incredibly annoying at first. I don’t blame him honestly. Tourette’s more like Annoying Asshole syndrome am i right (haha that internalized ableism)

Subtly triggered their tics intentionally cause haha stupid human

Once he got out of the attic and made friends with MC properly he was just kind of like “oh that was pretty shit of me wasn’t it”

Honestly doesn’t know how to help so he just ignores it lol.

The one time he tries to help them when they’re having a bad tic day he makes them take a nap with him because clearly if they’re asleep they can’t tic, right?

Surprise! They still can. Enjoy the knee to the stomach, B.

Encourages them to use their powers for evil. Like telling them to spill something on Lucifer and claim it was because of their Tourette’s.

Note: don’t do that, mc only obliges bc this is chaotic mc. TS not a toy etc etc

Barbatos:

Read that MC had tourette’s on their file, but honestly didn’t know what it was. Probably just assumed it was a heart condition or something, so when MC comes over for the retreat him and Dia are not expecting the tics.

The first time they tic in front of him it was at the retreat. He had just served them tea and tourette’s said yeeting time and they chucked the teacup. It hit him in the forehead. Tea all over his face. His hair. His suit. The wall. The floor. Maybe some on Diavolo too. He’s both impressed by their aim and wanting to fucking die.

Mammon is howling with laughter.

MC explains it to him while he’s still dripping with tea and he just smiles in a very strained manner and goes to get changed and wash his hair.

At the retreat when MC and Solomon make human food, he quickly learns that MC should not be around sharp Devildom knives. Or a stove. Or anything dangerous.

Gets weirdly protective over them, especially if they DO end up handling potentially dangerous stuff.

Keeps trying to find better ways to serve them drinks so they don’t break all the fine china, like plastic cups with lids. Stuff still gets spilled everywhere so he tries to get them a travel mug. The handle snaps and the lid leaks. Eventually gets them a sippy cup for toddlers, which works wonders. MC thinks it’s hysterical and makes him put a label on it with their name.

He seriously considers investing in Gyro Bowls as well.

After MC accidentally turned a platter with a soup bowl on it into an impromptu catapult with a poorly aimed table smack, he does just that.

One time they mention having a very strong urge to put their hand over a burning candle and he makes sure no candle is ever near them in the palace.

honestly i have too many ideas for barbatos so he’s getting a whole ass fic.

Diavolo:

The teacup incident was also the first time HE learned the true nature of Tourette’s syndrome. Once the whole deal was explained (and he knew mc wasn’t maliciously throwing things at Barbatos) he thought it was the funniest shit.

Bless his heart honestly.

Tries to not laugh at first bc he thinks it’s probably disrespectful. Meanwhile MC is cackling like a mad scientist bc they dabbed for the 343643th time today and Lucifer looks like he’s about to blow a gasket as a result.

Lowkey I can kind of see him as being one of those “Oh my goodness you are so BRAVE for going through this” meanwhile mc stares off into space like they’re on the office

Is astounded at all the unique challenges humans have to go through meanwhile MC is yeeting cups at barbatos

#tourettes #very specific and unrelatable tbh #actually tourettic #wow is tourettic the adjective?#huh #fitting #nobody asked for this #i'm self insert trash #and bullied someone into sending me this ask #you're welcome #asks

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grayareaculture · 3 years

Text

a drawer full of feathers after crash landing into a pillow

i’ve been organizing and reorganizing. when i’m not organizing and reorganizing, i’m thinking about what to organize or reorganize next, and then organizing my own headspace to accommodate the restless flip of infinite tabs shifting backwards and forwards along a never-ending line.

i’m not stressed, i tell my psychiatrist. i’ve hardly ever felt better! i’ve been taking adhd meds like you told me to and i’ve been able to be on top of my game of productivity every single day the way i was meant to. i don’t get bogged down anymore each morning by the overwhelming need to accomplish all of my chores, tasks, and routines at once. i don’t wake up dreading the process of making coffee and brushing my teeth, dislodging what should be a three-step item into measure the beans, grab a mug, throw it into a grinder, reach for the filter, fill said mug with water -- or was it grab a mug first, then throw the beans into the grinder? or should i reach for the filter at the same time the beans are being ground? -- all the while trying to brush my teeth to optimize for time only to end up lying in bed thinking of all the mounting moves i’d have to make just to start my day, which theoretically should only take 5 minutes but feels like it takes 20. so yeah, i’m not stressed. i’ve never been better. i just keep having dreams where i’m organizing and reorganizing things in my sleep.

“having stress dreams could still be a sign that you’re feeling stressed without realizing in your waking life,” she says, and of course she does. she’s a psychiatrist.

i’m not stressed, i repeat. my brain just can’t stop organizing.

i’ve been trying to meet writing submission deadlines in my dreams, registering for classes (and double checking i got the right ones, even though i already finished registering for classes in real life), trying to buy business cards and gather merch designs, as well as other managerial tasks like checking to make sure my friends re fulfilling the duties they promised they would for my writing goals. i no longer understand what my brain is trying to do.

i’ve been obsessed with selling things lately. every merch i’ve designed so far hasn’t done as well as the last, which means i need to get better, draw better, draw faster. i cleared out my weeb closets and put out a few things for sale. i made a profit on some of my blind bag pins from the haikyuu exhibition haul. all in due course. even as i write, i am compulsively rearranging the pins on my wall, trying to decide if there’s one worth selling. the masterball was a great purchase but do i really need it when i’ve also got a pokéball pin? how about the slack rocket? the husband might be changing jobs. maybe we should keep that.

i didn’t make enough sales to break even the first time. or rather, i didn’t make enough sales to cover the big mistake i made in buying too many stickers i couldn’t sell. i wanted to offer free stickers to friends, but one of them turned out to be a misprint. i never accounted for this. i didn’t know. i didn’t think. i had the impulse to order them asap, pre-adhd-meds. now look. i am still trying to make back what i fucked up. so much for breaking even.

my best friend from high school used to joke that i have OCD. years later, after many areas of education, i know that mental health disorders are nothing to joke about. but obsessive-compulsiveness at its root definition is having obsessive thoughts and the inexplicable compulsion to act on them. what other name is there for a milder case? how long will these thoughts haunt me? how long will i dream about organizing and planning for nonexistent and mundane experiences born from several tiny corners and aspects of my life? how long? how long will this go? how long before i stop? how long?

how long?

#spilled ink #spilled words #adhd #stress management #anxiety #asian american writers #writing #!mine #text post

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gothic-safari-clown · 3 years

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The Mind’s Power Over the Body

Part 8: Acceptance

Story summary: They only ever had each other. It had been that way since high school, ever since Elianna transferred to dreary Arlen and took Jonathan under her wing. They go separate ways for college, and when they're reunited at Arkham Asylum professionally, Elianna comes to find that they've both changed during their time separated. Can she look past the promise of danger and stay by Jonathan's side as they slide further and further into the darkness while she grapples to come to terms with the truth about herself? Can she accept what needs to be done in order to hold onto the only person who holds any meaning in her life? This is a very self-indulgent AU that draws from several different canons of the DCU and ignoring others, starting in the Batman Begins Nolanverse. This will follow the plot of the movie, although the timeline has been very slightly tweaked.

Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five / Part Six / Part Seven

Word count: 1986

Minutes after Jonathan left, Elianna was still staring at the wall, unable to think about anything other than the sudden and jarring conversation. She couldn't help but feel astounded that she had even agreed to what he was suggesting. Why would I do that? If she hadn't accepted his proposal, would he have gone along with the plan on his own? And what would have become of had she refused?

Her clock glared at her from its place mounted on the wall, reminding her that she didn't even have the distraction of a session to rush to. Damn it. Paperwork, paperwork, paperwork...

Finally forcing herself into action, El gathered all of her files and situated herself on the floor with them, playing music on her smartphone to help her focus. She ended up with papers stacked around her as she reorganized all of her files in an attempt to occupy her mind with something—anything—else. Honestly, there hadn't been anything wrong with the previous system in the first place, and now she was just surrounded by mess as she reshuffled the notes in each folio to justify her decision.

Two hours later, her office was spotless, and she had gone through at least three new filing systems. With nothing left to do for an hour, she found herself still sitting on the floor against her desk, desperately trying to unwind her conflicting feelings over the new situation.

She knew that she should care about the moral implications of her decision, but the more she thought, the more she realized that she just...didn't. Not for lack of trying. For God's sake, Scarecrow had gotten Jonathan to kill his granny when they were teenagers, and she hadn't even questioned it. The old woman did have it coming, just like she had thought earlier that morning, but did that way of thinking make her a bad person? She had never been one for philosophy.

And now, when the opportunity presented itself to exact horrible, torturous revenge on Victor Zsasz, she had taken it without even fully thinking through the consequences. She hadn't even been able to through her confusion. If it comes down to it, which seems likely, can I take a life the way that Jonathan did? Do I even want to?

Yes. She did. Each thing that she came to realize about herself sent El spiraling into a new set of questions. When had she become this person? Had she always been like this, keeping busy to avoid confronting that reality?

She couldn't tell how much time passed as she took inventory of herself until finally, another look at the clock told Elianna that her first session began in ten minutes; today, she had been scheduled a series of low profile patients to be seen in her office. Sighing, she finally lifted herself off the floor. She would have time to re-evaluate her life later. For now, she needed to get to work.

.xXx.

"In my opinion, Mr. Zsasz is as much a danger to himself as to others, and prison is probably not the best environment for his rehabilitation," Jonathan spoke into the mounted microphone on the stand with steady resilience. It was getting difficult for him to ignore Scarecrow, who had become practically giddy from the anticipation of getting to "play" with the newest batch of the toxin. He was almost exploding, insisting that Elianna would finally give in to her dark side.

Both Jonathan and Scarecrow had known that it was there for a long time. Jonathan had had his suspicions when he had told her about Scarecrow for the first time, and she had accepted it, and they had been confirmed after Granny's "accident," when she had helped them cover it up and had stuck around to boot.

At a glance, someone less close to the situation would say it was denial (which she was good at, apparently), but she had no qualms talking about it when the topic came up; she simply didn't care about most things that she should. She had somehow managed to convince everyone else—including herself—that she did, and that was the part that mattered.

The trial ended quickly after Jonathan's testimony. Falcone had already paid off the judge to rule in favor of whatever Jonathan said, and the rest was just formality. As such, he had already filled out all of the appropriate paperwork for the admission and transferred the deranged man to his care.

Finally, it was over, and Jonathan was on his way to the parking lot to make it back to the asylum when he was stopped by the most irritatingly incorruptible person on the planet.

"Doctor Crane," Rachel Dawes's voice rang through the courthouse lobby. Unable to ignore her, Jonathan paused to look at her, barely breaking his gait, suddenly needing to focus extra hard on keeping Scarecrow under control; he hated her as much as Jonathan did, possibly more.

"Miss Dawes," he acknowledged, having nothing else to say. That was passable as polite, wasn't it?

"You think a man who butchered people for the mob and attacked an innocent woman doesn't belong in jail?" Right to the point with this one, always so straightforward. Ambitious. If she would only take advantage of the ample opportunities that the city provided, she might even be able to make something of herself. Unfortunately for her, she didn't have the drive.

We don't need her sniffing around, Jonny. Let me take care of this now.

Not a chance, keep quiet.

"I would hardly have testified to that otherwise, would I?" Politeness be damned, the insufferable woman could chalk it up to a bad day if she wanted, just as long as she didn't notice the distaste rolling off of him in waves.

"This is the third of Falcone's thugs you've had declared insane and moved to your asylum, and the fourth time you've done so for Zsasz individually." Dear Lord, was she implying that he was corrupt? In Gotham? Never. Impossible.

"It isn't my fault if our security officers have yet to discover his means of escape. As for the rest, the work offered by organized crime must have an attraction to the insane." There, a safely noncommittal answer, and one that held basis in fact too. He turned to leave, having just about reached his limit with the conversation.

"Or the corrupt," Dawes's heels clicked on the floor as she took a few steps after him before he stopped in his tracks again. So she wasn't implying anything, just outright accusing him. Jonathan ignored Scarecrow's outraged (and far from empty) threats and caught sight of Dawes's boss in his periphery. A little childish perhaps, resorting to involving her higher-ups, but at this point, he was willing to shoot himself in the foot to avoid continuing this tiresome discussion. Interrogation, more like.

"Mister Finch," the suited man looked at the sound of his name. "I think you should check with Miss Dawes here just what implications your office has authorized her to make." That captured his attention; Finch's brows raised as he aimed a pointed look in the direction of the woman in question. "If any." That should do it.

I'm gonna get our hands on that one. Pick her brain and spit in it.

There's something we can agree on.

.xXx.

As desperate as Elianna had been for any kind of distraction earlier, each of her sessions had been more boring than the last. She was still of the opinion that people with simple anxiety disorders didn't belong in an asylum; she had half a mind to sign them all out and send them back into the world. But until she learned more, she had to operate under the assumption that they had each been admitted for a worthwhile reason; but the second she was shown any sign of real-world competence, she would sign all of them out to keep them from taking up any more space. God, what's wrong with me today?

Before she could ponder on her behavior any further, a knock on her door signaled Jonathan's return, and she let him in quickly.

"So it's...you did it then?" She asked, still unsure of how to address the situation.

"He'll be transferred back in by tomorrow."

It was done. At this point, all she could do was trust in the combined efforts of Jonathan and Scarecrow to keep her safe with some...foolproof evil plan. No matter how much she tried, she hadn't been able to bring herself to feel guilty for wanting revenge; she couldn't help feeling justification in her decision, and it was clearly justified in Jonathan's as well, and really who else mattered in this scenario? Zsasz? Certainly not.

"Okay. Well, are you alright? You seem tense." Jonathan rolled his eyes to the ceiling and shook his head.

"Everything is fine, just this...tedious woman from the DA's office tried to give me some trouble, but it's taken care of. I, ah," he checked the time on the clock, "I just need to go finish some paperwork, and then we can go back home and talk about this some more."

"Sounds good. I'm almost done here myself; when I'm finished, do you want some help?" She offered, and he seemed almost grateful for it.

"If you don't mind, I wouldn't say no."

"M'kay, then I'll see you later. Oh, wait, actually," Jonathan looked at her expectantly, unsure of what exactly she was bringing to his attention. "How often would you say security looks at the footage from our offices?" Good god that made him worry. What now?

"...Can I ask why you want to know?" She looked embarrassed, and any ideas he had had of her doing something that might incriminate them went out the window. Dear God, what now?

"I...may have been sitting on the floor for a long time today." She said sheepishly, and Jonathan pinched his eyes closed briefly before casting his gaze up, fully exasperated by the fact that she had found that important enough to bring it up right then. "And I'm a little embarrassed about it." Scarecrow, on the other hand, found it hilarious whenever El caused him even the slightest bit of undue stress.

"It's fine; they really only review the footage from sessions. I doubt anyone will even know." Elianna seemed relieved and nodded, a tiny smile at the corners of her mouth. "You still sit on the floor when you're worked up?"

"It helps me think," came the defensive response, and Jonathan gave her a look that said that he would tease her about it later, and finally turned to go.

Jonathan left her office for the second time that day. Only this time, she had finally realized that her conflicted feelings from before were due entirely to outside influence. For as long as she could remember, she had found it impossible to feel truly concerned about the things that mainstream society seemed to want her to be. Why should she try to force herself into a box that she didn't fit in? She could at least try to keep her mind open to revenge.

Elianna's hesitant resignation to her anticipation for revenge began to chase away any confused reservations that she had had before and gradually replaced them with a hazy excitement bubbling under the surface.

#the mind's power over the body #jonathan crane #scarecrow #batman begins #nolanverse #elianna montgomery #jonathan crane x ofc #fanfiction #multi chapter fic #cillian murphy #cillian murphy scarecrow #tmpotb chapter 8

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seapandora · 3 years

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Illusion, Part 3/?

Illusion｜Part 3/?

Bucky x oc!Lori

Warnings: Angst, betrayal, swearing, torture, violence

A/N: Part 3 already. And so many more parts to go! I´d be lying if I said I wasn’t tired of this particualr fic every now and then. Luckily for me, my brain knew this would happen. So, the old full part 3 and 4 are both done. Now I just have to edit them. I hope you guys enjoyed this holiday themed part, the next two parts will also be hoiday themed. I wanted them to be released before Christmas, but oh well… Again I hope you guys enjoyed this one! Comment/ share and like if you can! GIF-cred to owner as always! Holler if you want to be put on the taglist!

Summary: Reader is a supersoldier, one of a number, one of nine. Hydra´s backup for the asset. The group was started in 1974 and has been working under the radar, training for the day when the asset no longer exists. Lori is the only one left. Left in a cryo, she wasn’t discovered until 2023 when a certain captain and his buddy found her.

Words: 6557

Taglist: @selfsun

2024

December was a weird month. It was dark and gloomy, but full of light and happiness. Bucky had been planning the trip to Steve for a while. He was always visiting Steve around Christmas-time, but he had a special plan this time. Lori would come with him, Sam would too. But it was the first time Lori would meet Steve. She knew all about him by now. Steve knew off her, but seeing as he wasn´t military or an avenger anymore, and he didn´t have access to her files. He only knew what Bucky had told him.

Lori had been made aware of the plans in advance so that she could plan a good gift for Americas golden boy. Even if the stories Bucky had told her didn´t paint him in that light. She liked hearing Bucky talk about Steve, and the time before the war. He had retrieved most of his memories from that time, but he liked talking about it because it made him feel less like a monster. Lori had thought long and hard about what she would get Steve. She really wanted to impress him.

December 23rd rolled around a lot quicker than anyone had expected, despite December being a very quiet month, with just one, very simple, mission. This was the day they were visiting Steve in his cabin. Peggy had passed away a few years earlier. Despite Steve going back in time, he hadn´t been able to change Peggys destiny, or her cause of death. It had taken a toll on the former Captain, but he was beginning to be happy, finally. He had his art and the occasional visit from his friends, and of course he had the kids he had made with Peggy.

Bucky was beyond nervous for letting the two super-soldiers meet, but he was looking forward to hear Steves thoughts on Lori. He was driving with Lori and Sam. The others had been sent on a mission the night before, and would be home that afternoon, meaning they missed out on meeting Steve. They had all agreed to go meet up with Steve around New Years instead. Lori sat in the back listening to music while Sam sat besides Bucky. They were bickering like always and Lori had decided music was the best way to cut them out.

“Newbie, hey Lori… Are you even listening?” Sam asked and reached back to grab her leg. Lori wisely moved her leg out of the way and slapped Sams arm. “What do you want potoo?” She asked and raised her eyebrows at the man in the passenger seat. She had taken to calling him potoo about a month ago, for no other reason than to piss him off. At first Sam hadn´t understood the joke but he had done some research and found out that potoos were weird-looking birds with crazy eyes. He wasn´t ashamed to admit that he was offended at first, but only until he realized that Lori would have had to go out of her way to look up weird birds to give him a nickname that was special to her, and her alone. After he realized that he had no issues with it. “We´re about to arrive so put your shoes and jacket on,” he explained and nodded to a small cabin showing up on the road in front of them.

She did as she was told. She wasn´t sure why, but Sam had accepted her as if she was his younger sister and despite everything, Lori trusted Sam. More than anyone really. Apart from Bucky of course, but Bucky was different. Much between Lori and Bucky was different. Bucky was the first one Lori had opened up to. She had already told him a lot about herself and her time with Hydra. He knew about most of the bad stuff she had been forced into. He had also seen her at her worst.

In October Lori had begun showing signs of post traumatic stress disorder, a disorder Helen had later given her. It had started with Lori being unable to sleep and she had instead stayed up for longer than she should. When she did start sleeping she had nightmares, bad ones. They were about her time in Hydra. Some were just filled with images of the people she had killed, others were about her missions. But most of her nightmares were about the punishments Hydra would give her. The nights they would tie her to a bed and torture her.

Lori would wake up in tears, and she wouldn´t dare to go back to sleep after that. One rainy, cold night Lori had gotten up and walked to Buckys room. She was originally planning to go to Sam and talk to him, but something had enticed her to go to Bucky instead. Her subconcious had said Bucky would understand her situation better. He had been awake and he had let Lori sleep in his bed curled up to his chest for the rest of the night. He had read somewhere that hearing calming sounds, such as rain patter, or a heartbeat, could be helpful, and thats what he tried to be.

That was the first night in a few weeks she had slept well. From that night Bucky made sure that Friday watched Lori during the nights, and he would be right outside knocking on her door when Friday alerted him to changes in her sleep. Lori really appreciated it. She appreciated Bucky for wanting to help her, and wanting the best for her. He was constantly there for her, even when she didnt know she needed him.

The air hit her as Sam opened the door for her. She was in the midst of tying her left shoe. It was cold, enough for both Lori and Bucky to want a jacket, and Sam was wearing a thicker jacket. He didnt have super-soldier serum, so he wasn´t as resistent to the cold as the two others. Being who he was he often complained about it as well, and he could become very grumpy when Lori or Bucky weren´t cold. It wasn´t fair in his books. He grumbled as he pulled the jacket closer around himself while Bucky and Lori kept theirs opened.

Steve was standing on the little patio in front of the cabin leaning on his cane. “I´ve got a fire going inside and Brooke made us all hot chocolate before she left, so come inside and get comfortable,” he said and smiled before he walked back into his cabin. Sam and Bucky followed after him while Lori took a bit longer. She didn´t analyze her surroundings, she trusted Bucky and Sam and their judgment. If they felt safe in the environment, so did Lori. Bucky looked back to her and chuckled before he stretched his hand out to her. “Come on slow-poke,” he chuckled and watched as Lori took some slow steps up the stairs.

Lori gently took Buckys hand and let him guide her inside. They all took of their shoes, considering Steve himself claimed to be old to want to vaccuum every second day. Bucky helped Lori with her jacket and hung it up for her before they made their way further into the cabin. The seating area was small, and felt smaller with the original supersoldier, and the first winter soldier. Sure Steve had lost a bit of his muscle mass but he was still tall and he filled up a space like no bodys business. Bucky was just buff in general, muscular, tall-ish, and his broad shoulders really made him look bigger. Sam wasn´t as big as the other two, but he was still tall and muscular. Lori wasn´t small either, but she had a very different baseline from which the serum worked.

They all sat in silence for a while until Sam coughed a bit. “So Steve, meet Lori,” he said and gestured to Lori who waved shyly from her seat besides Bucky. “Lori, where are you from? I´ve heard a bit about you, but when were you born? And where?” He asked with a kind smile. He didn´t want to overdo things already, but he needed to know who she was before he trusted her. Before he could trust her to be around Bucky. Lori looked at him and played with her fingers. “Ehum, I was born in 1959 inSweden,” she answered and looked down at her hands. She didn´t feel intimidated by the supersoldier, but she felt like she had to show him respect. He was older, wiser and a better human being than she was.

Steve nodded and proceeded to ask Bucky and Sam about their latest mission. All to allow Lori to warm up to him. He didn´t want her to be nervous around him, he wanted her to consider him an ally, someone she could talk to if she needed. Lori stayed close to Bucky but looked around Steves cabin. There were one or two famous paintings as well as a few black and white sketches. Some were clearly of Peggy, a woman Lori would recognize anywhere. A few were of Bucky and Steve from what seemed like way back, possibly the time of the war. A few were simple landscapes, around the compound area. Lori had been on enough runs to recognize the scenery. Steve watched her and looked up at the sketches. “What do you think?” He asked and smiled at Lori.

She looked to Steve and then back to the sketches. “They´re beautiful. But I can´t say I´m not feeling a little uneasy by seeing a different Bucky.” She explained and sighed as she glanced to the Bucky she knew. “Oh, he isn´t different. Not really anyways, just hardened by what happened to him. When I see him I still see the Bucky from the 30´s and 40´s. He just takes longer to show that side of himself.” Steve argued and stood up. “Come with me, I´ll show you more sketches,” he said and smiled as he walked towards a room to the north of the cabin. Lori stood up as well and followed Steve.

The room was smaller than Lori had expected, but it didn´t have any furniture apart from a desk and a chair. However the walls were filled with pencil sketches. It was sketches of everything between heaven and hell. She looked around in awe and crossed her arms over her stomach. Sure the room wasn´t big but Lori felt small around the art. It was so beautiful, and meaningful, without Steve having to say so. Lori looked closer on a specific sketch of Bucky. She checked the date on it and realized it had been done in the summer of 2018. That meant it was done after the snap, Bucky was gone by then. Steve noticed her looking at it and sighed. “We lost everything in the snap. For a few months I didn´t know what I was going to do.” Steve said softly and sighed as he sat down on the chair.

“Natasha took over the Avengers, or whatever it was by then. I couldn´t be around it all, I didn´t want to be around it all. I took over Sam´s VA-group, not that it was a VA-group by then. It was a way to help people understand what had happened.” Steve said quietly and drummed his fingers on the table. “I spent most of the five years sketching and trying to help people. I owed that to the world.” He continued. Lori looked at him and frowned. “But you did save the world. You reversed the snap, and you saved those who had been taken,” Lori exclaimed and tilted her head.

Steve smirked a bit and shook his head. “I wasn´t alone in doing that, and Tony was the one to actually reverse it. “He said and rubbed the back of his head. Sitting there at his desk in front of the window with the snow falling outside, he looked lonely. “As true as that might be. I read that you were the one to inspire him to come back. That without you two making up, the world wouldn´t have been saved.” Lori said as her eyes slid over a sketch of Iron Man himself. Steve had sketches of all the team-members, well the original team-members at least.

“You and Bucky, huh?” He asked and Lori froze before she snapped her head towards Steve. “Wha… what? Me and Bucky, what?” She asked and looked terrified for a second before the look turned into confusion. “Oh you two aren´t fondueing?” He asked with a smirk, which he dropped as he saw the utter confusion on Lori´s face. “You´re not a couple? Youre not dating?” He asked instead and stood up from the chair. Lori just shook her head with a frown. “Oh wow, I´m sorry. It´s just the way you look at each other and the way you talk to each other and touch each other,” he said trying to explain his questions.

Lori looked down at her hands and sighed. “I… I like Bucky. He´s… he´s been very udnerstanding with me. I feel like there´s a trust between us that I´ve never had before. I really like Sam too, but more like a brother than anything.” She mumbled and picked at her fingers, a sign Steve often saw in people who were nervous. “Have you told Bucky about how you feel, or has he talked to you?” Steve asked and looked at her with interest. “No, no, no, I´m pretty sure he doesn´t feel that way,” Lori said quickly and put her hands up. Steve gave her a knowing look but nodded. “Alright, well I´m sorry I spoke on it when I was clearly unaware of the real situation. But please talk to Bucky about it. I´m sure it will all work out!” He said with a smile before he led Lori back into the livingroom.

Bucky looked up as Steve and Lori came back in. “Has he shown you all his sketches now?” He asked with a smile before he stood up to get the bag of gifts they had brought over. Lori smiled at Bucky and nodded her head. She couldn´t shake the feeling of what Steve had told her, and asked her about. She really hoped she´d get over it soon enough. She wasnt sure she was ready to make any of her feelings known. And she wasn´t even sure Bucky would care.

1973

Spring had rolled in with tons of rain. Lori wasn´t allowed outside but she heard it through the nights, and water was running down the cement-walls of her cell. It was wet and cold. Lori

hated it. She had never done anything to deserve this. She had never hurt a soul, she never wanted to hurt anyone. Now that was the only thing she did. Her captors forced her against soldiers every day, and so far she hadn´t lost one fight. If she had she wouldn´t be around. She did her best to stay in their good graces to not be tortured.

It had been a success, they hadn´t tied her to a bed in months. That meant Lori hadn´t been in any pain she couldn´t handle in a long time. If relief was a feeling she could still have she had it now. They had also given her a better mattress and a thicker blanket. It was awful that this was what Lori had begun to associate with something good. But her current situation had turned into being her new safe, her new norm.

She had just been woken up by loud banging in the hallway outside her cell. She had immediately gone into a fighting stance. Her entire existence was based on defeating others. Guards entered her room, there was five or six of them now, considering Lori had become quite strong since they started the super-serum experiment on her. She could easily take down two of the guards at once, but she had issues taking down four or more guards, they were quite strong themselves.

They blindfolded Lori and brought her out of the cell and past her usual training rooms. She knew the hallways fairly well by now. She was more scared when she felt fresh air and rain on her skin. She was outside. They had taken her outside. Lori hadn´t been outside since she was taken. It was strange, and she was now terrified. Would they kill her? Shoot her and dump her into a hole and then cover it up? Lori didn´t know and she wasn´t sure she wanted to know.

Lori could hear the sound of a car close by but she didn´t have time to think about it before she was pushed into the backseat of a car. She was uncomfortable but her arms weren´t tied so she could adjust herself. The guards told her to stay put, and she didn´t dare do anything else. The car started to move and Lori held on to the seats. She didn´t have any sense of direction and had to struggle against falling over whenever the car took a turn.

After an hour or so the car stopped and Lori felt hands tugging at her arms. She moved her legs out of the car and then the rest of her body. The hands guided her down some stairs and into some sort of damp bunker-like area. The floor was rough and Lori wasn´t wearing any shoes. It was clearly cement but she could smell something metallic and her best guess was that it was either the piping, of the bunker-like place, or iron covered walls.

She was dragged to a room which was slightly warmer. After the experiment, Lori had become more aware of her surroundings. It was as if an entirely different part of her brain had been unlocked. The blindfold was removed and she blinked at the light and squinted her eyes. She refrained from reaching up to cover her eyes from the light. Her bad aclimatizing to the light meant she wasn´t ready for the slap that landed on her left cheek abrubtly turning her head. Lori groaned and closed her eyes again. She didn´t reach up to touch her cheek. There wasn´t any need to, that wouldnt be the last hit.

2024

The quartet ate smores and drank hot chocolate while exchanging gifts with each other. Well it was really the three avengers giving gifts to the retired avenger. They had gotten together and brainstormed Steves gifts one night and had then gone their separate ways to get them. Bucky had gotten Steve a new set of Aquarells and generally new supplies since he knew Steve was always running low by the end of the year. Sam had managed to get a deal on a warehouse just a few blocks away which now was Steves. It was a place he could store either his sketches or furniture from his house to fill it with more sketches.

Lori who barely knew Steve, but wanted to be liked by him, had gone all out. She had gifted him with a paid vacation to the Stockholm archepelago. It was the city she was from and she had always loved the ocean as a kid. Steve quickly declined her gift but Lori insisted. It was her wish that Steve would get to go there and make beautiful sketches in peace and not have to worry about anyone else. She had seen some of his landscape sketches and knew he could do amazing things with the right view.

They stayed for a bit longer, but decided that they should head back at around 3 pm. Steve had his family arriving later in the evening and wanted to clean up a bit, and the three avengers had to get back to the compound to start setting up things for christmas. They also had to get a tree on their way back. Sam asked Bucky to drop him halfway home. He had a few buisness to attend to. Bucky and Lori could get the tree themselves. The tree-farm was quite close to the compound, just one turn off actually. Bucky pulled up to the forest area and got out of the car pulling his jacket a bit tighter. They didn´t really get cold anymore but the wind still made his skin crawl.

A perfect tree stood right in front of them. Bucky thought it was perfect at least. Nearly every tree was perfect in his mind. He really didn´t care too much. Celebrating Christmas was something he did just for the others, he himself didn´t feel much of a connection to the holiday. Most of his previous ones had been spent killing or sleeping. He looked over to Lori, well, where she was supposed to be, but he couldnt find her. “Lori?” He called out and began to look around the trees to see if he could find her. The trees were quite a bit taller than Bucky and Lori was shorter than Bucky. She could have easily sneaked off and he wouldn´t be able to find her. She was a spy after all, and she had been trained by some of the best.

If she didn´t want to be found Bucky wouldn´t find her, but he did start to panick a bit when he had been searching for a few minutes. It wasn´t a big place, she couldn´t just disappear. He had half a mind to try and call her when she came out from behind a tree looking for him. “Where did you go?” He asked with his voice slightly raised. “You can´t just run off,” he explained and sighed as he noticed Lori moving back a bit. He quickly realized it was because he raised his voice at her. He shook his head and held her hands up. “I´m sorry, I didn´t mean to raise my voice at you, I was worried. Did you find a tree you like?” He asked and gave Lori a soft smile to try and ease the blow from before.

Lori nodded and pointed in the direction of a row of trees a bit further into the farm. It was obvious why they had been placed farther away from where people would typically go. The trees were smaller and less perfect. Not awful, just slightly less ideal for a Christmas tree. “Are you sure doll? The compound is pretty big and we want a tree that can flourish in the environment, right?” He asked as he looked at the trees. If it truly was what Lori wanted he wouldn´t argue and he wouldn´t complain. Lori looked over at Bucky and pouted a bit. “I know they´re not traditionally beautiful, but there´s a charm to them, don´t you agree?” She asked softly and touched one of the trees´ branches.

Bucky didn´t have the strength to say no to her so he simply nodded and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Pick whichever one you like the most,” he said, defeat clear in his voice. He wasn´t actually upset with it though, why would he be? It was just a christmas tree. Lori walked around for a bit longer before she decided on a tree that stood around 5´6 feet tall. Bucky happened to know the average christmas tree was 7 ft tall. He hadn´t googled that, nope, not at all… He hadn´t googled Swedish Christmas traditions to be able to give Lori something sepcial either. Not that he had found much, and he felt like he had to talk to Lori about it before he put his plan to work.

They got the tree into the car and Bucky drove them back to the compound once they had paid for the tree. “I was looking online for something I could do for you and I found some old, well not old, traditions. Like a showing of Donald Duck, or something at 3 pm Swedish time, which is like 9 am here, tomorrow. I´ve fixed us a VPN so you can watch it if you´d like.” He said and stared hard at the road ahead of them. Lori glanced at him and smiled to herself. “I haven´t seen the Donald Duck Christmas showing since I was five or something, I´d love to watch it.” She answered and hugged herself as she curled up in the seat. It was beautiful outside, quiet and light. The road to the compound was mostly unused. The lower-level agents had all gotten the holidays off and if any situation came up the Avengers were stepping in. They had had a few months off when Lori was found and were now getting that time back.

Considering the compound was empty the snow was clean, and it was glimmering in the light of the car. It was dark out by now, but a few lanterns had been placed along the road, which meant it wasn´t pitchblack. Lori looked out the window and let out a silent sigh. Her first couple of Christmas celebrations had been amazing, but around the age of 8 or so her mother had stopped caring about making christmas special for Lori. She was rarely home ,and if she was she had been drunk and Lori´s christmas had been ruined. Her father had never been around and she didn´t have any other family.

Bucky patted her leg and hummed. “So Donald Duck tomorrow. Would you like your present tomorrow as well. I read that that was also a tradition?” He asked and frowned a bit. Lori looked at him and chuckled. “You´ve surely done youre homework. Yes we do get our presents the 24th, but I dont mind waiting until the 25th, it´s not a big deal,” she explained and shrugged. Bucky nodded and smiled. “Alright, well I want you to tell me what you want from this Christmas. It´s your first in many many years, and I want you to enjoy it!” He said as he drummed his fingers on the steering wheel.

Lori blushed and bit her lip. “I´m sure I´ll enjoy it as long as the team is around. You guys have done so much for me and I feel like you are all family to me.” she mumbled and pulled at the sleeves of her sweater which were sticking out under the sleeves of her jacket. Bucky smiled and reached over to take her hand. “We are your family, and you will always be safe with us.” He said and stroke the back of her hand.

Sure the two had spent nights together, after nightmares, but it had just been cuddles and hugs. But this felt different? Or maybe that was just Lori overthinking. Had something happened at Steves, or did she just now start to see the way Bucky interacted with her. He was always attentive to her needs and he always seemed to put her thoughts, and wishes first.

Bucky pulled into the garage at the compound and Lori got out of the car and got to open the trunk to get the tree. She wasn´t quick enough, and only managed to get the trunk open before Bucky gently nudged her out of the way and picked the tree up. Lori huffed a bit but backed away to give Bucky some space. “You could have just said you wanted to take it, instead of pushing me over,” she said and crossed her arms. Bucky laughed at her antics. “Hey did you want to carry it? I don´t mind” he shrugged. Lori shook her head and pouted. “No, you choose this, now you have to live with that choice,” She said and stomped over to the door holding it open for him.

She may be pouty but she wasn´t an asshole. Bucky chuckled once more and walked through the door she held open. “Thank you, do you want to go freshen up before we start decorating? I think the team is back, so you can catch up with Wanda and Peter if he´s still here” Bucky said. He didn´t want to crowd her or take up all of her time when he was certain that she and Wanda had a lot of things to talk about. They had grown so close in the past month. Lori had also gotten close to the young Parker-boy. Something that made Bucky a little uneasy at first, but he had quickly realized Lori only saw Peter as a younger brother, someone who helped her with technology and such.

Wanda made herself known quickly with a loud squeal as she ran to Lori to hug her. Lori hugged her back tightly and laughed a bit as Wanda showed her images of the mission. She often did that if it was something funny that one of the others didn´t want to be shared. Wanda pulled her to the kitchen so they could get something to eat and drink. Bucky was in turn left to his own demise as he was carrying the tree. He placed it down in the livingroom before he got Thor and Loki to help him get some decorations. They had a few boxes in the attic and Bucky didn´t feel like taking a million trips up and down the elevator.

The two gods had become regulars at the compound. Loki liked Lori a lot, she was just as tricky as he was and she liked to play pranks on Sam and Peter. She had learned a few from Loki. Of course she didn´t have his magic, but he shared what he could on “normal” tricks. Lori was a quick learner. Loki had tried to implement magic into it but Lori wasn´t having any of it. It wasnt fair considering neither Sam nor Peter was magical. Both of the gods had been very keen on letting Lori in on their story. Her favorite storyline so far was what had happened with Hela. She liked the fact that facing Hela had brought out the best in the brothers. Thor had been able to harnes his complete power and Loki had learned he wasn´t entirely bad.

All the christmas decorations had been moved down from the attic by Bucky and the gods while Lori was catching up with Wanda and Peter. Sam had made his way back to the compound as well during that time. Once Lori was all caught up on the mission the three of them made their way to the livingroom where they saw all the boxes with decorations. Lori looked around and frowned a bit. “We figured you´d want to take charge of the decorating,” Bucky explained as he looked around at all the boxes. Lori looked at him and raised an eyebrow. “Well, I´definitely going to need some help,” She replied and huffed softly. Bucky laughed and nodded. “We´ll all help you, don´t worry about that” he smiled and got to setting the tree up. The foot needed assembling and well, the girls didn´t seem too interested and the gods had no idea what to do. Sam had already given up any sort of responsibility when it came to decorating.

Lori walked over to a box and opened it to see what was inside. Ornaments of all colours, shapes and sizes met her. She wasn´t a big fan of, over the top, decorating, and instead wanted to go for something more simple. She wanted the tree to look beautiful, and so her colors of choice were red and silver. It was simplistic but it fit them all. Well apart from Loki, but they would have reindeers up and around the compound. The rest of the avengers had grey or red incorportated into their suits and daily clothes. It would all feel more close-knit to Lori if she could see colors she felt comfortable with.

Wanda helped her a bit and used her powers to hang the ornaments in the windows and such. Peter was busy setting his aunts room up, for when she was coming over for Christmas. The gods were mostly standing around watching Lori and Wanda pick ornaments and decorate the livingroom. After a little while they moved to the kitchen and then the hallways. Bucky looked around after a little while noticing Lori and Wanda had left the room. He had been so invested in making sure the tree was standing safetly. “Hey where did Lori go?” He asked the gods who nodded towards the hallway.

He walked slowly wanting to give Lori and Wanda as much time as possible to hang their decorations, but he needed a few minutes alone with Lori. He found the two women after just a short while and smiled at their decorating skills. It was a bit of a mess actually but that was a later problem. “Hey Lori, can I talk to you for a sec?” He asked and frowned as he crossed his arms and waited for her go ahead. Lori tilted her head and thought for a second before she looked at Wanda, who nodded in approval. “I´ll finish up this hallway,” she said and nudged Lori towards Bucky. Lori groaned but walked over to Bucky ready to follow him, wherever he wanted to go.

Bucky smiled and held out his hand for Lori to take before he guided her down the hall to his room. He wanted them to have some privacy. Lori happily took his hand and followed him to his room. She wasn´t sure what he wanted to talk about but she was sure she wouldn´t mind. She liked the alone time she spent with Bucky. She took a quick look around Buckys room before she sat down on his bed, to which he had motioned. Bucky sat down besides her and turned to her taking both of Lori´s hands in his own. He was constantly in awe of how Lori didn´t seem to mind his metal arm and hand. She had no issues with the coldness that came from it. “So what was it you wanted to talk about?” Lori asked as she looked at Bucky. He looked so different from the pictures she had seen in his file. His hair was short, but she liked it. She understood why he had cut his hair. It was a reminder of his time with Hydra, and cutting it off was a way to leave that behind.

His hands were shaking slightly as he took a deep breath. “I… I´ve been meaning to talk to you for a while. Steve talked to me today, avbout it. And I kind of realized I had to… yeah I had to do this today,” he said and sighed. “Lori… I, I´m in love with you,” he said quietly and looked down at their hands. He could feel Lori freeze, her hands went stiff but she soon seemed to relax. She lot go of his metal hand and gently gripped Buckys chin to tilt his head up. He looked at her and felt his face heat up under her gaze. Blushing wasn´t something he was used to, emotions even less so.

Lori smiled and leaned forward pressing her lips against Buckys. She could feel him still for a second before he melted into the kiss and grabbed her hand a little tighter. “Does… does this mean you feel the same?” Bucky asked as they broke for air. Lori giggled and nodded. “Yeah, I like you too,” she said and gave him a quick kiss. “How about we get back out, and we finish up decorating,. Eat some good food, and then I´ll be all yours tonight if you want, or we could go for a whole lot of cuddles,” she said and bit her lip before she stood up and wiped her hands on her pants. Bucky stood up as well and hummed. “I´d like to spend the evening with you, but I have to go out and get some last minute presents,” he sighed.

1973

Her new bosses where hard on her. She hadn´t been this beaten up in a long time, maybe that was why she had been moved. It didn´t do her any good to dwell on it however, and hence she didn´t after the first day. She learned to follow orders, she learned not to talk back. She learned to be a compliant soldier.

The schedule she had been put on was brutal. At most she got four hours of undisturbed sleep, and those days she was lucky. Usually the nights were filled with screams making it near impossible to sleep more than a few minutes at the time. The days were filled with drills and training. She was trained in different languages, dancing, and general spy-subjects.

In the few weeks she had been in her new prison she had learned proper french and russian. From before she had been forced to learn german and spanish. Swedish and english were languages she had known from before Hydra. She had overheard her captors talk about her learning italian and arabic as well.

And she did, it took her months but by mid august Lori was almost a perfect spy. The only thing she was lacking was the field-experience. And she would get that sooner than she thought. The very same month to be precise. It wasn´t a big mission, and it wouldn´t matter a lot if Lori failed, even if she would be punished hard if she did. But there was no risk in it for Hydra.

It was supposedly a simple elimination-mission, and the target wasn´t anyone too famous, but they had become a small threat to Hydra. Lori started by stalking the target for two days, they were simple, and obsessive about their schedule. Lori was able to take them out on her third day. She was then collected by Hydra and taken back to her prison without as much as a thank you or confirmation that she had done a good job.

When they got back to the holding place she was taken to her cell and left there for a few days. It wasn´t until five days later she got her next meal, and only after she had been through a thorough beating which left her forgetting her own name. When she came too she was back in her cell with half-eaten food in front of her and a small glass of water. She didn´t trust it for a second but swallowed it all down in seconds.

Her trust would earn her another beating. She wasn´t supposed to trust anything that was half eaten. She was not to make that mistake again, she was told. That was the first night in months she had cried herself to sleep. At the old place she had had a mattress and a nice blanket, now she had neither. She had her clothes to cushion the floor and to cover her from the cold in the room.

She had never thought it could get worse, but these new people. They were pure evil and Lori knew they would break her, and if they didn´t someone else would get the chance. That was her curse, ever since she became a super soldier. People wanted to break her, to be able to rebuild her.

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