#and as I understand myself more as I go through these years of trauma therapy and understanding my body and desires

[transmascgarrus]

feeling so much better. appreciating some parts of my transition i did not expect to, and it helps alleviate some of the discomfort of being misgendered quite often at work, but it isn’t getting to me too much (i think i was expecting this, so it hurts but I knew it would happen and i have ways of coping) and the shame i felt towards the parts of me that society made me hate, like how naturally hairy i am everywhere, that i had half a goatee on my chin even before T that i shaved constantly because my ex made fun of me for it, my macro clit that guys in high school laughed about after sleeping with me because it looked like I had a tiny dick or something, that now feels like parts of me that I love.

I don’t feel such hatred towards myself. I think in part it’s just helped me deconstruct what I thought I had to be to be desired and attractive, and accept them as part of myself, and something I want to embrace. And as my belly grows and i enjoy eating, seeing the hair on my stomach darken and thicken makes me smile, more at home in my body. and even with completely changing how I present and live my life I feel more attractive and desirable than ever, the shame lifted and finding joy in the parts of me deemed ugly, and being wanted and loved for it.

more than anything i feel whole for the first time in my life, not searching for something to fill that void and constant voice that something is inherently wrong with me quieted. the pieces snapped together and i feel able to fully be present in my body and life not consumed by thoughts of How Fuckable I Look.

[tlbodine]

Characters care about external stakes. READERS care about internal stakes.

OK. Here's a distinction I've recently started to think about and really notice after reading and watching some things that handle this poorly.

Fiction needs stakes, right? We all agree on that?

Characters have to be doing something, and they need some reason to do things, and there has to be some kind of reward for succeeding or consequence if they fail, yeah?

Cool. So here's the thing about stakes. They can be internal or external.

External stakes are things like: "if we don't do this, the sun will explode" or "if we do this, we'll win the game."

Often, to make things more interesting, external stakes have a ticking clock attached to them. You have to complete your quest before the next full moon or else the spell won't work for another hundred years. You have to score the winning point before the buzzer goes off in five seconds. That tension is important to shuffling the story forward.

But here's the thing.

The reader doesn't give a fuck about the external stakes and the ticking clock. We know perfectly well they're not going to miss the window for the spell or fuck up the finals game. We understand how stories work and how genre conventions work and you're not impressing anyone with your ticking clock.

What readers do actually care about is a character's internal stakes.

Internal stakes are things like "if I can save the world, I can finally absolve myself of guilt for letting my mom die." Or "if I win this game, my crush will finally notice me."

They are personal motivations. They are the reason why your character cares about what they're doing. They are why we care and how we get invested in their story.

Because like. We're humans. At the end of the day, we care about human things and we have human emotions and we relate to people -- even fake people made of scribbles on paper -- who care about stuff the way we care about stuff.

Raising the stakes doesn't mean "make the sun explode if they fail." Raising the stakes means "we care about this person and want to see them succeed."

So why bother with the external conflict and the ticking time clock? If what we actually care about in a story is the person, why can't we just read a couple hundred pages of the character going through therapy and working through their trauma?

Because what that ticking time clock does is it forces a character to act before they're ready. It prevents them from procrastinating. And it makes them do stuff they're not prepared for. And it's thrilling to see them interact with stuff that way, because it forces them out of their comfort zone and into an area where they can grow and challenge their status quo...which is the thing that pushes on those internal conflict bruises.

Imagine that our heroes have as much time as they need to fulfill the prophecy. They can take their time training, studying, making failsafes and backup plans and then go and the plan goes off without a hitch and they save the day without breaking a sweat. That's boring! That's just people going to work. That doesn't force them to confront their inner demons at all! That doesn't rip them from their existing environment and leave them struggling to adapt to new circumstances!

So those external stakes are necessary to keep the plot rolling forward and put pressure on the characters. But ALL OF THAT is only important if that pressure reveals interesting things about those characters, and forces them to engage with the stuff deep inside that they're probably hiding from. Because that's the part that's juicy and interesting for the reader.

Capiche?

[jadeleechsupportgroup]

Bittersweet

malleus as therapy.

cw: mental illness, suicide mention/ideation, overdose mention, psychological trauma. no gore or horror though.

(wrote this a while ago. based on a real life event for me.)

“It is difficult for me to understand.”

Malleus’s voice draws me out of the fog of my own mind and back to reality like the tether of a wayward life preserver. I wonder what he would think of this comparison.

“What is?” I ask, hoping not to make it too obvious that I wasn’t listening. I was, at first. I just have a lot going on right now. I always do.

He slow-blinks, catlike, lizardlike, dragonlike, his spring green eyes focusing on me a bit more purposefully. “That humans treat birthdays as occasions to celebrate,” he says, possibly repeating himself, to my sheepish guilt. “They have such short lifespans, yet they are so eager to lose another year each time.”

“Oh.” I clutch my stomach. I feel sick, and not because I ate too much cake. “Well, it’s not that simple. I-”

Deuce and Ace and Grim have started a conga line. I instinctively wince away from the noise, even though they're my best friends and I love seeing them happy, because the whole room is too loud and too close and I really think I might hurl.

“I, um, I’ll be right back.”

I set my paper plate aside and dart - slink - scrabble away from the chaos. I feel an episode coming on, or maybe it’s been playing for a while now, like a show I put on Netflix and left forgotten on autoplay until it asks me if I’m still watching. The brambles of unwanted memories tug at me with sharp fingers.

I wind up in the Diasomnia courtyard. It has benches under trees. It has a fountain. It has fog because of course it does, it’s Diasomnia. I sit on a bench and shut my eyes and grit my teeth against the acid burning through my stomach.

[ ping ]

My phone wants my attention. Normally it’s superglued/surgically attached to my hand, and muscle memory politely shoves me toward checking it, but I can’t look.

[ ping ] [ ping ] [ ping ]

The messages flicker before my eyes as clearly as when I first read them.

[ ping ]

It was weird, I had thought at the time. A couple vague posts from my friends popped up in my feed at random. Eventually I messaged one to find out what happened.

[ ping ] [ ping ]

Overdose, they’d said. Insulin and antidepressants. A month’s supply of hoarded medications. Suddenly the posts made awful sense. Claws gripped my heart and made it hard to breathe.

[ ping ]

“I had almost forgotten that humans can tell lies.”

Malleus’s voice startles me out of my woeful thoughts. “What?” I ask stupidly.

He gazes down at me. His features are shrouded by the dark, but I can see the downward turn of his mouth and feel the intensity of his eyes. He’s concerned. “You said you would be right back.”

I turn away from him and look at the ground. “Sorry,” I mumble. “You wanna sit down?”

He does. His presence warms the air next to me. I want to isolate myself - it’s so easy - but I make myself scoot closer to him so he can at least hold my hand.

“A lot of people hate birthdays,” I blurt out abruptly. “Like, they gripe about getting older, usually.”

My hand curls up tighter. He’s so different from me, all soothing heat and composure and grace to my sharp edges and cold, jittery nightmare of an existence.

“Is that what troubles you?” he asks quietly. His voice helps.

“No.” My voice wobbles, about to fall off the balance beam. This was not how I pictured having this conversation. In fairness, I had hoped it was a conversation I would never need to have. “A couple years ago. Something bad happened.”

Malleus is yet unfamiliar with many a human habit and social convention, but it seems he has learned at least one from me. He lifts one arm and rests it along the back of my shoulders.

My voice goes strangely cold and steady.

“My friend died. Killed herself. She overdosed and had seizures for ten days until they took her off life support the day before my birthday.”

The words linger like the bitter fog of my breath in the air. He says nothing.

“I hate my birthday now. I’m mad at her for doing this to me. I hate myself for being mad at her. I hate it because it could’ve been-”

My voice hitches as if caught on a sharp edge. If I open my mouth to try again, I know I’ll choke on tears.

“It could have been you?”

He poses the question as delicately as the touch of a fallen petal.

I’ve already cried over this so much that I don’t think I can ever cry again. But I’m finding it hard to breathe, the air escaping from my chest in erratic puffs of visible vapor.

[ ping ]

I hated the group chat they’d made. A dozen semi-strangers propping each other up with worthless promises that she would be okay, even though I knew the moment I heard the news that she wouldn’t make it. So many people lamenting how sad it was. So many “my door is always open”s.

“I think I understand.”

Malleus speaks close to my ear. I fall into his embrace as though collapsing under the weight of my words.

“It is not about celebrating the loss of a year,” he says in a soft murmur, “but the completion of one that might have been lost.” He strokes my hair. “As if conquering a great foe in battle.”

“Mhm. Slaying the dragon.”

It’s out of my mouth before I can stop it. But he laughs.

“I should hope not. It is my birthday, after all.”

“Yeah. Sorry I’m making you miss it.”

“All is well.” He leans his head against mine. “I do not believe I am missing anything.”

I want to accept this as a wistful sentiment, but I make myself stand up. “Well, contrary to popular belief,” I say, taking both of his hands in my own, “birthday parties aren’t exclusively for you.” I give a light tug to pull him to his feet, and he rises with the poise of a dancer. “They’re also for your friends to eat cake and play games and be super obnoxious. So you shouldn’t leave them hanging.”

I never thought I would find the lights and crowd noise of a party welcoming, but I welcome it. Malleus keeps a hand around my shoulders - protective, comforting - until he’s certain I’ve recovered enough to stand on my own. I’m not quite up to joining the conga line, but I help myself to another slice of cake and some bonbons and a cup of punch.

“Feeling better?”

Lilia winks into existence next to me.

I’ve given up asking how he did that or when he showed up or anything else to the tune of fact-checking him against reality. “I forget you two can hear a pin drop in the next zip code,” I say as flatly as I can.

He gives a light laugh and pats my head. “I only want to make sure you are well,” he says.

“I think given my track record it’s safe to say that I’ve never been very well, Lilia.”

A strange expression settles over his eyes. Something knowing. Something…aged.

“It is never easy to face a monster in battle,” he says. “No matter your experience, your skills, your preparation- every confrontation is unique.”

I hold eye contact with him and sense I am speaking to a very different man.

“Do you know the meaning of bravery, young one?”

“Something something not being afraid of things?” I offer.

His smile politely declines my suggestion. “Silver made that mistake as well.” Lilia reaches over and taps me on the nose. “To be fearless is not to be brave, child of man. True courage lies in having fear and choosing to fight regardless of it.”

My gaze sweeps back to Malleus. Sebek is losing any composure he might have had due to a smear of frosting marring his lord’s white blazer. I look down at the half-finished cake in front of me. “It never stops, does it?” My voice comes out in a half-whispered croak. “I’ll never win.”

Lilia ruffles my hair. “You won’t know unless you try, young one.” His smirk never wavers, but it looks more genuine. “Besides,” he says with a knowing glance at my band of idiots - Grim balancing precariously atop Ace’s shoulders and trying to place a birthday tiara around Malleus’s horns - “it is hardly as though you are fighting alone.”

[wheelie-sick]

-> TW for in depth discussion of suicide <-

a lot of people look at anti psychiatry and say "well these aspects of psychiatry helped/saved my life!" and that's not the point. the point isn't that no one can ever find psychiatry helpful the point is that the system abuses its patients

I have been uncontrollably suicidal at many points in my life but 3 stick out to me and those 3 were my full suicide attempts (rather than my suicide near attempts i.e standing at the ledge of a cliff with the intent to jump, something I have done so many times I cannot possibly count them) I have been so desperate to die that despite having every possible lethal mean removed from the house I lived in I tried to drown myself in a bathtub. I tried this twice. there is nothing more desperate than frantically shoving your head under the water face down hoping you have the willpower to stay there until you black out and inevitably die. I remember these things viscerally and painfully. suicide is not unfamiliar to me.

but no one could have forced my recovery. recovery is a decision I had to consciously make. trying to force my hand would only have traumatized me further. I am all too familiar with forced recovery, I have been in ABA therapy against my will and had an awful experience. I would sob and beg to leave the system. I was in ABA partially because my mental illness was classified as severe, not just because I had moderate autism. my family admits a large driver of it was the fact that the support I was receiving from my incompetent therapist was not helping and they hoped ABA would. in the end it only made me worse by providing me more trauma on top of the existing trauma I already had.

with that said full recovery is something I will never experience but that does not mean I cannot be supported in ways that do not remove my personhood. I am bipolar, bipolar disorder is lifelong. it has been one of the main contributors to my suicide attempts as it started creeping into my life at 10 years old. I have, since my last suicide attempt, strongly considered trying again. there were points where I considered willingly going to a psychiatric hospital. something pushed me away- both from the ledge and from a psychiatric hospital.

there's a theme with when all my suicide attempts happened. my first was at the age of 12 and my last was at the age of 14. I was isolated. I was living with an incredibly abusive father and a mom who just couldn't keep up. I had very few to no friends. around 14 I started to gain community and mend the relationship with my mom. I had support. my latest near miss was only a couple of months ago, it was during a manic episode and the impulse arose and I barely had the self control to stop it. manic episodes are when bipolar people are at greatest risk of suicide. again, what saved me was having support. people saw what was going on and intervened- not through hospitalization against my will but through peer to peer support.

a psychiatric hospital would not have helped me. psychiatric hospitals are traumatizing experiences. trauma is a large influence on my life as is. the trauma of going to a psychiatric hospital outweighed the danger of me at my lowest staring at a bottle of opioids with intent to take them.

the thing about anti psychiatry is that it's not anti treatment it's anti abuse. if there was an alternative to psychiatric hospitals that did not revoke my autonomy, that would not have traumatized me, I would have gone. I don't believe that live-in alternatives are the answer for everyone, it looks different for different people, but I do believe everyone has a right to autonomy in their treatment.

I am happy I am alive and I am happy I survived my attempts but what I needed was not a traumatic experience at a psychiatric hospital what I needed was support that respected my autonomy and personhood.

a lot of people assume that anti psychiatry people just don't understand the experience of mental illness but I'd argue the contrary- most of us are classified as "seriously mentally ill" and most of us have become anti psychiatry through negative experiences with the psychiatric industry. we want autonomy for mentally ill people, not abandonment.

[montammil]

June of Doom Day 25 - "I should have listened to you."

| Guilt | Backseat | Failure |

Characters: Rowan, Sawyer

Also kind of rushed and stuff, but I keep reminding myself this is a challenge, not something I need to be ultra perfectionist about lol.

Anyway, I thought it'd be fun if I showed Sawyer having a bit of stockholm syndrome since I usually give that to Marshall XD

CW: Yandere/creepy whumper, stockholm syndrome, dubcon touching (nothing inherently sexual), non-sexual nudity, mentioned branding

...

Sawyer didn't want to admit it, but after just two months of freedom, he was starting to regret his actions.

Rowan had been the source of most of his trauma, both physically and psychologically, and it was obvious that Rowan was as deranged as deranged got... but he didn't understand what he was doing was wrong. Rowan just needed help, and Sawyer learnt that his family had installed the idea in his mind that therapy would be a bad look on the Burnett name.

Each day, questions ran through his head. Would Rowan finally get the help he needs? Would Rowan continue searching for him until the day he's dead?

Would Rowan just find another person to replace Sawyer with?

As guilty as Sawyer felt for it, that question made him more upset than it should have, and for the wrong reasons. He was aware perhaps he had gotten a little stockholm syndrome during his time with Rowan, but he didn't think it was that bad.

Sometimes he felt comfort around Rowan... as long as he didn't get on his bad side, he could be such a nice guy. He'd bring him flowers, cook for him, spend a lot of time talking and laughing. He even played the piano for him.

At the same time, Sawyer couldn't let go of the fact that Rowan stalked him for god knows how long before he finally snatched him. Rowan burnt a brand into his flesh and held him hostage for four months.

The guilt was eating him alive. Guilt over something he knew he shouldn't feel.

It didn't help that he didn't even have a place to stay. His savings were almost depleted, and he knew he was close to getting kicked out of his apartment.

He was relying on his job at a fast food restaurant to support himself, but that didn't pay him enough to afford more than a week of groceries.

He wasn't thinking logically when he was fired for snapping at a rude customer. Sawyer never let his emotions get the best of him, but he was so tired and in a terrible mood that he let his filter go. He ended up getting into a screaming match, and was kicked out of the establishment.

Now, he had no idea what to do. He knew it was only a matter of days before he'd be out on the streets.

He couldn't exactly go back to his parents or sister. He didn't want to explain to them why he was in his situation. Plus, he would have to travel for days to even get back to the town he used to live in.

There was only one option he could see. He was depressed, about to be homeless, with no one who loves him.

Except Rowan.

Sawyer didn't realize how long he'd been sitting at the bus stop. It was late, past midnight. The streetlights were the only source of light in the pitch black of the night. He kept zoning in and out, unable to concentrate on anything. It felt like he was moving in slow motion.

He searched in Rowan's name, wondering if it'd come up. To his surprise, it did.

Rowan Burnett: Insurance Agent, 31, Oregon City. It was surreal seeing Rowan's name there on the screen, like he was just another ordinary person, leading an ordinary life.

He had no idea he was so successful, but that must've been due to his family's wealth. He clicked on his profile to see pictures of Rowan in suits, smiling for the camera, holding business meetings, attending charity events.

They were all from a year ago at latest. He hadn't updated since he met Sawyer.

The bus pulled up, breaking Sawyer out of his trance. He stepped on, shoving his wallet back in his pocket after handing the cash to the driver. He slumped down at a seat near the back.

He didn't know what he was thinking. Rowan was probably so furious with him, he was probably waiting for the opportunity to take Sawyer back and never let him go.

Yet in Rowan's absence, Sawyer learnt to miss his possessiveness. It was something he'd take to the grave, but he truly missed having someone who cared about him, someone who loved him, even if it was under the guise of obsession.

He remembered how to get there from his stop, his feet bringing him to the location instinctively. His memory still recalled the layout. He was thankful he remembered his escape route, which wasn't far away from Salem and another national forest.

It felt like a blur. Almost in a blink of an eye, he was outside the lake house. The lights were on, so it seemed Rowan was still up.

Sawyer hesitated. This was his last chance to turn back. And maybe Rowan wasn't even at the lake house. Maybe he was in his house in Oregon City, or even looking for him right now...

But his car was parked out front. Sawyer heard his heartbeat in his ears. This was stupid. He should've turned back, but he spent almost an hour walking all the way here. If he wanted to escape again, at least he now knew the way out.

That is, if Rowan ever gave him the opportunity to escape again.

He felt his hands reaching up to knock. Before he could stop himself, he was already rapping his knuckles against the oak door.

The sound resounded throughout the area. Sawyer held his breath, he didn't know what to expect. He hoped for the best, but that seemed too optimistic for him.

He heard the locks turning, and then the door cracked open. A familiar pair of lavender eyes appeared, widening when they saw him. It was silent.

The tension was so thick, he felt like he was going to suffocate.

"Sawyer...?" Rowan whispered. He let the door swing open, his mouth parted in shock. His hair was a mess, and his outfit was wrinkled. He looked like he hadn't slept in days. It was all an unusual look on him. He stepped forwards, and Sawyer noticed how his hand twitched. Rowan looked like he was unsure if Sawyer was really there.

Sawyer nodded, biting his lip. He let out a shaky breath. "I..." He looked away. "I shouldn't have run. I'm sorry." He let out a self-deprecating chuckle. "You were right. No one cares about me, no one wants me. I should have listened to you."

He was expecting Rowan to yell, to scream, to even slap him. When Rowan raised his hand, he braced himself. Instead, Rowan gently cupped his cheek, lifting his gaze up.

His eyes were still wide, like he couldn't believe Sawyer was back in his arms. Sawyer hadn't once seen such a vulnerable look in his eyes. He was only gone for two months. He felt so ashamed. He had no real reason to return, yet here he was. He was pathetic.

Rowan pulled him into a hug. "My love," he exhaled. He hugged him tighter, as if Sawyer was going to disappear if he let go. "You came back to me. You really came back to me." He pushed Sawyer's bangs out of his face and looked down at him with an adoring smile.

Sawyer melted. He didn't know why, but it felt nice. He didn't have to hide anything, and he didn't have to pretend to be someone he wasn't.

Rowan guided him inside. He was still trembling, like he was holding himself back from touching Sawyer all over. Rowan shut the door behind them and locked it.

"I missed you," Sawyer admitted. He didn't know why he said that. It just slipped out, and he couldn't take it back now.

Rowan breathed out a sigh of relief. "I missed you so much, my darling. You don't know how hard it was to fall asleep without you beside me. I don't know how I managed it."

Sawyer normally would have rolled his eyes at how dramatic he was, but he found himself relating to the statement. The bed always felt so empty and cold without Rowan, he had gotten so used to sleeping by his side.

"But it doesn't matter anymore," he continued. "I have you, and you're staying. Right?"

"Yes," Sawyer replied. He didn't believe in his statement, not completely, but he knew Rowan wouldn't take no for an answer. "I want to stay with you. I'm yours."

Rowan grinned and kissed him roughly. "All mine." He kissed him again, his hands roaming over Sawyer's body. He kissed along his jaw and neck, humming against his skin.

Sawyer's heart was racing. He missed the way Rowan touched him. It wasn't a romantic touch, it was rough, dominating, and maybe that was the way he preferred it.

He let Rowan touch all over his body, only managing to ask, "Are you mad at me?"

He contemplated his words. "If I had to hunt you down--which I have tried-- I would've had you tied outside like a dog by now." Sawyer shivered at the thought. "But you willingly came back, and for that, I am beyond pleased. But if you dare even think about leaving again," he continued, voice dipping to a growl. He licked along his Adam's apple, sucking a bruise on it. "I'll have to get creative with my punishments. I don't need to do that, do I?"

Sawyer shook his head. "No, Rowan."

"Good. Now let's get you a bath, you smell like you haven't had one in months." He reached down to intertwine their fingers, leading him down the hall. "This is why you need me to take care of you, you never take care of yourself." He ushered Sawyer into the bathroom.

He waited patiently for him to finish drawing a bath, dumping soap and oils in it. He was soaking up the feeling of being back, Sawyer felt at peace. It felt wrong to feel that way, but he couldn't stop the thoughts.

Rowan began undressing Sawyer, kissing him every few seconds. He couldn't stop touching him. Given how lonely he imagined Rowan must've been without him, it made sense.

Sawyer subconsciously ran his fingers through Rowan's hair, and it caused him to grin ear to ear. Sawyer had never seen him look so blissful.

He entered the tub, watching Rowan get undressed as well. It wasn't the first time, and it definitely wouldn't be the last. He had no issues with it anymore. This was the routine he had gotten used to for several months, and it felt right. He sighed when he felt the warm water soak into his sore muscles. It was nice.

Rowan slid in the tub as well, pulling Sawyer in his lap. He wrapped his arms around him, peppering his shoulders and the back of his neck with kisses.

"You have a lot of freckles," Sawyer muttered. He ran his fingertips over his skin, tracing a few of the prominent ones.

"Do I? I never paid much attention to them." Rowan dipped his hand in the water. He reached over to grab a loofah, using it to wipe down Sawyer's back. "I was a mess when you were gone. It's funny, I even called in some family friends to look for you." He chuckled.

Sawyer tensed. "What?"

"It's okay, you don't have to worry your pretty little head about it," he assured. "I mean, you're so small. It was hard to imagine you managed to survive all by yourself. It's only reasonable I'd get worried for my soulmate's safety, right? It's such a cruel world, even you admitted that yourself." He set the loofah aside to grab shampoo and conditioner.

He decided to just ignore Rowan's earlier statement. He knew it was dangerous to prod for answers, especially with the topic of Rowan's hired men. It made him wonder what kind of family he had.

"Tilt your head back for me, please." Sawyer followed his command. Rowan poured water over his head.

He put shampoo in his palms and began scrubbing at Sawyer's scalp. He worked through his hair until it was free of knots, and then added conditioner. He made sure to get his body clean as well, washing the dirt off and admiring his handiwork.

"There. All clean." Rowan pulled him back against him again, resting his head on his shoulder.

Sawyer's eyelids felt heavy. He leaned into Rowan, already feeling drowsy. He closed his eyes and just focused on the feeling of the water surrounding him.

Next thing he knew, he was dressed in silk pajamas and being carried to bed. He was half awake, but couldn't manage to open his eyes. Rowan placed him on the mattress, but Sawyer refused to let him go. He hugged him around his waist. "Stay with me."

If he could see Rowan's expression, he knew it'd be on the verge of tears. The bed dipped, and Sawyer was wrapped in a firm embrace. He nuzzled his face in the crook of his captor's neck. He'd regret this, but that was an issue for tomorrow.

For tonight, he just wanted to get lost in Rowan's affections. He didn't feel so alone when he was with Rowan.

"I love you," Rowan breathed out. His grip tightened. "I love you so much."

"I know. I love you too."

And maybe, if only just for this one night, he really did mean it.

[highlordofkrypton]

Re: romantic affection

@peoplesidk, I'm gonna reply to your question here instead of reblogging bc I prefer just having mutuals see. This got long, I'm so sorry, you don't have to read the whole things.

I don't mind expanding on my second point, I'm not sure if it's relatable because it's 100% my personal issues that I am working through slowly but surely. I just hope that if anyone sees this (since it's public, and esp if they're not my mutuals!), they have the empathy to understand that it's not a debate, it's personal, if you know what I mean. BUT if it does help someone, then this is why I'm reblogging!!

tw: trauma dump? kind of?

So, I was raised in an environment that I didn't even know was considered "abusive" and or "neglectful" until much later in life when I found out I was depressed and sought help at school w/ their free therapy. Also, I still don't think it was that abusive or neglectful, some of it was just two people doing the best they can with the tools they had in an unfamiliar place.

Context:

I have no siblings, I am the eldest child born in a 'first world country' to the 'eldest child' of my mother's family (and my father was the first of his family to come here as well). Both of them achieved amazing things in helping their numerous siblings get a better life, etc. That said, not only was I parentified (bc they did not speak the main language here well enough to understand any official documents) as a child, but I was held to a standard that I needed to lead the cohort, achieve more and do it alone.

My parents raised me from a young age telling me 'you are alone, you have no siblings, we will not be around to help you' in the sense that anything can happen. Plus, they were generally absent, working multiple jobs to make ends meet and I was... alone. Most of my childhood memories is being alone, tbh.

Add in the fact that I think my mother was bullied most of her life, and took that out on me (and still does, but eh, I can take care of myself I don't listen anymore). It kind of fucked up the way my brain works.

I have certain beliefs about myself that are very contradictory to the way I move in the world.

I'm a shitty and nasty person vs. many people in my life, and even people I cross on a day to day basis, think I'm genuinely wonderful, positive and appreciate having me around. I do go out of my way to be kind, but I don't feel kind.

I'm fat, ugly, disgusting vs. literally nobody I know thinks that, and many of my close friends think I'm super in shape, I'm just not leaned out (think curvy and strong)

I cannot trust anyone to take care of me vs. I'm allowed to pause and not have to manage everything -- I only learned this year that I can ask my girlfriends to plan brunch, it doesn't have to be me all the time.

I have not earned the right to be loved (and the counter of 'merit of love' is reset with each interaction) vs. I don't have to do anything to be worthy of affection, I can just ... exist?

On the same point, I do not know how to exist in a way that isn't fearing that anyone in my life can turn on me at any moment, so I have learned not to bother being vulnerable + being vulnerable makes me a burden. I am not accomplishing my task of exceeding, accomplishing, leading the way.

(Also, my first and last relationship was super traumatic, so I don't think love is real at this point.)

THAT SAID, sorry for the long trauma dump, there's a point, I swear. In the examples above, you'll see that my negative and toxic thoughts are invalidated by the wonderful people in my life. I'm not relying on them to 'fix me' or combat my toxic thought processes, but ever since I moved out (and I work from home), I'm alone more often than not. I don't want to always rely on my friends to have to reset my brain.

I am told I do fantastic things, but I do not believe it. I am programmed to exceed, or perform well enough in a lot of things I do, but I seek validation, so it comes off as me begging for attention when 'I already know I'm good'. So, I can't help but wonder if a part of me longing for anyone who is kind, and who's interests align with mine, is just me kind of... wanting that 'peace of mind' because someone does love me enough to want to spend a lot of time with me.

I just think it'd be really nice to feel like someone cares enough about me (as a person and not the things I can do for them), but I don't think that's romantic attraction at all. It's just one soul yearning not to be lonely? Do I even have the capacity anymore to let someone in like that? Who knows.

UHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH, MIGHT DELETE THIS LATER I'M KIND OF EMBARASSED NOW

[p-i-r-culture]

! PLEASE READ THIS POST ALL OF THE WAY BEFORE INTERACTING !

---

Terminology and Definitions

Problematic in recovery - a term used to describe a person who's considered "problematic" in online spaces (eg. Tiktok, Youtube, Tumblr, etc.) and is wishing to end their problematic behavior and rehabilitate. A majority of these people who identify with this label struggle with some sort of mental illness that may have contributed to the behavior and/or their behavior is how they got the disorder. Many of us have also experienced trauma of some sort and used problematic behavior as an unhealthy coping mechanism.

Note: this does not excuse the actions that were done, if someone is doing something they shouldn't, hold then accountable in a way that is beneficial to both you and the person being held accountable. This label was made to address the issues that cancel culture has created over the years, and how those issues have affected people negitively.

Problematic (in terms of online behavior) - having or showing attitudes (such as racial prejudice) or ideas (such as falsehoods) that are offensive, disturbing, or harmful, in this context, it occurs while in online spaces. While the exact cause of this behavior is unknown, a lack of understanding of social cues and norms can play a role, alongside exposure to inappropriate content at a young age that may alter the person's beliefs, and other forms of trauma. Some people who are deemed "problematic" often describe it as an addiction, once you start, it's difficult to stop, though regularly scheduled therapy and medications used to treat the mental illness that is causing the behavior in question can help.

Cancel Culture - a cultural phenomenon in which an individual deemed to have acted or spoken in an unacceptable manner is ostracized, boycotted, shunned, fired or assaulted, often aided by social media. Popular examples of this are the cancelation of Yandere Dev, Melanie Martinez (a recent one), and Vivziepop, along with many others. Originally, cancel culture was used to put an end to dangerous behaviors and to hold celebrities accountable for their harmful actions since the media would often allow their behaviors to go on.

Unfortunately, cancel culture doesn't take into account those who are struggling with mental illness or have neurological disabilities that may impact how they handle specific situations, and as a result, it leads to ableism and stigma, and cancel culture is also rooted in bullying and harassment, which may make the problematic behavior in question worsen and deter the person in question from seeking help and/or changing their behaviors, and in worst cases, it leads to the person taking their own life.

Simple answer: It's anti-recovery and pro-harassment.

For more information on how cancel culture can impact someone, I recommend checking out this video by BreDrawz, as she does a very good job as explaining this topic and how harmful cancel culture can be:

Why this blog?

When I first discovered that my behaviors were considered problematic, and infact were hurting people, I wanted to put and end to it, and all in all try to make myself a better person. Unfortunately, with the rise of Cancel culture, I and many others haven't been able to get the resources needed to make the necessary changes to myself, and this, combined with the already existing ableism I've faced since I was a child, had unfortunately caused me to frequently relapse, further pushing the stigma and worsening my mental health.

It eventually got so bad to where I had begun to contemplate taking my own life, and it was only because I discovered that I infact was redeemable that I didn't do it.

On my journey to recovery, I had discovered that I was not the only one dealing with this, as many others had been dealing with the same issues I was, and that made me feel less alone.

I hope to provide that same feeling of community through this blog.

DNI (DO NOT INTERACT)

Anyone who fits into these categories: Ableism (especially against neurodivergent people and anyone with "evil" mental illnesses, such as NPD or BPD), Racism, Sexism/misogyny, Homophobia/ transphobia, Antisemitism, Pro-genocide of any kind, Nazis and Neo-Nazis, pro-"life", or any sort of discrimination that I haven't listed here.

People who justify literal bullying as "criticism" (seriously, it never helps, there's a difference between actual criticism that can help someone and bullying)

Personality disorder Abuse believers (eg: Narcissist abuse believers)

People who make mental illness look like a quirky trend (Eg: saying "bpd = beautiful princess disorder", "I'm so OCD" etc.)

Anti-recovery (especially when it comes down to mental illness)

Cancel culture participants

About the Blog Owner

Hi there! My name is Luca(s) Krager, but you might know me as Nozomi Kaizoku. I'm a 17 year old AuDHD and BPD content creator. My pronouns are he/they/it. I'm most known for my artwork and contributions to the Tony Crynight community

For more bout me, here is my main blog! :3

@nozomi-kaizoku

Other blogs to check out if you're interested!

@borderline-culture-is

@narcissist-culture-is

@/aspd-culture (they have asked not to be tagged in this post)

@cluster-b-culture-is

@hpdcultureis

@autismcultureis

@adhd-culture-is

@ndcultureis

[misty-caligula]

This is my big one for s2e6 and it’s the thing that made me bolt upright in my chair, really just ... kicked me in the chest. For context my point of view on the show is a non-supernatural one, I do not think Lottie is psychic I think she’s delusional. It’s okay if you do not, but that’s the context for my take:

I have a strong suspicion that adult!Lottie’s being played, and I really do not like it.

Full disclosure, I have a history in the psychiatric world as a patient, I’m not schizophrenic but I am psychotic and I am well managed and very stable but like... I know what this shit is meant to be like, from about 15 years of personal experience. So back in s2e4 I was immediately .... confused. By Lott’s new psych. She seemed... just off.

I thought to myself “Hey, you know, psychiatry is one of those things that is so often misrepresented in all forms of media, I’m probably just reading too much into it.” But then I rewatched (and rewatched) and the more I did the more it felt... deliberate. What got to me was that ... her normal psych has gone on sabattical and been replaced, and the new one is trying to tell her not to suppress her visions with medication but try to understand them and what they’re trying to tell her.

A real psychiatrist simply would never talk like that. Would never suggest that. As far as psychiatry is concerned, Lottie is schizophrenic, her visions are delusional. And delusions/hallucinations are less ... they’re less like dreams where you might think “Oh I’m going to keep track of what I’m dreaming about and see if it means anything” (which, incidentally, is also not a thing a psychiatrist would usually do, but that’s besides the point) but are more like... a damaged computer, throwing up random, unsorted and unrelated data. Our brains are pattern finders, we desperately try to make connections in what we experience, and when our brains start misfiring and giving us bizarre and nonsensical data we still try to connect it. Delusional thinking doesn’t ... say anything about you, it doesn’t mean anything. It’s just the brain trying to sort nonsense into piles of organised nonsense.

From a psychiatric perspective a delusion or hallucination is a symptom no different to a ... headache or a rash. It’s a non-desirable issue to be treated and ideally cured, not ... explored and looked at for some kind of deeper meaning. And this isn’t even talking about like, trauma, and processing it through therapy. Lottie’s psychosis manifested long before the plane, she’s been on medication most of her life. It’s not something she can just... ignore, or choose to fight, or try not to have. More than that, by actively engaging with it it damages her coping mechanisms that she’s developed over the years to ground her in reality when she’s not certain.

Anyway. This all just seemed.... off. Wrong. And Lottie’s reaction is to say “There’s no meaning, because they’re not REAL.” Because she’s spent a LOT of time in treatment, trying to build a solid foundation of reality to live on. She’s clearly very distressed by the idea of losing touch with that, and her psych is NOT helping. It all seemed very... off.

I thought through options of what was going on. Maybe... maybe her new psych isn’t real? Maybe she’s talking to the wall? That was my best theory with so little to go on. But it was not a very satisfying answer, and didn’t really fit the general themes and style of the show anyway... I was confused.

Fast forward to ep 6 and we get more time with the new psych. Lott is now CLEARLY agitated. She can’t sit still, seems very anxious. She starts talking about “the visions” and “this feeling even about things that I know are right infront of me, it’s like it’s pointing me towards back then.” Her psych says “Is it possible that your fear of the past might be actually your fear of your illness?” Only THAT IS NOT WHAT LOTT SAID. She didn’t SAY she was afraid of the past, she was afraid of “a feeling about things I know are right infront of me, pointing me back towards then.” What does she mean by that? Finding random queens in a pile of papers? Visions of dead bees? The reality is that she’s not afraid of the past, she’s losing touch with reality. In psychiatric wording, she’s struggling to hold onto “insight” i.e. the ability to determine what’s real or not.

Lott kind of misses this disconnected thought though, and instead she says “That’s not the problem, I’m not worried that I’m ill, I’m worried I never was.” This shows a complete LACK of insight, she’s forgotten that only very recently she was terrified of her illness and now she’s suddenly thinking that maybe 30+ years of treatment were all for nothing? Maybe she was just never sick at all?

Then she goes off on a tangent, she says “With Travis coming, Natalie and now Misty’s here too. It’s like it sent them here, to show me.” “To show you what?” “That it WAS real. And that I wasn’t the only one who felt it out there, that it was all of us, that it was a part of us.” “What is...it...Lottie?” And she goes off about the god of the wilderness and the terrible things they did.

But... okay so Lott’s losing her objectivity here, which is ... not uncommon for a psychotic person to deal with. And she’s developing a belief that she was never sick, that she was never delusional, that it was always real. Now only 2 episodes beforehand she’d come to the psych on an emergency basis to increase her meds PRECISELY because she was afraid this would happen. She’s TERRIFIED of getting to this exact point, being this exact way. Because it leaves her absolutely out of control of herself, her own mind.

But listen to what the psychiatrist is saying. First she says to her face that Lott’s psychosis is “controlled.” But... no it’s not! She’s having hallucinations, she’s CLEARLY delusional, and showing all kinds of signs of psychosis. She’s definitionally out of control.

Then she asks probing questions not about her mental state, but about the details of her delusions, about the god of the forest. She STILL hasn’t increased her meds and she’s acting like it’s not at all weird that she’s saying stuff like “I think I’m not sick and never was.” Which, to a psychotic person or a psychiatrist is SUCH a red flag, because the next immediate question to raise if a schizophrenic or bipolar or otherwise psychotic person says those words is “...are you taking your medication?” Because believing that you’re not delusional is one of the core hallmarks OF BEING DELUSIONAL.

Literally the definition of a delusion is a belief without evidence that you hold against all odds even in the face of contradictory evidence. If you are sitting there saying EXTRAORDINARY things and requiring zero external evidence to back up your claims and ABSOLUTELY certain in those beliefs no matter what... that’s delusional. Of COURSE you think you’re sane, if you lack insight you simply cannot tell what you’re thinking isn’t rational.

It’s like you are so certain that gravity exists, you can feel it, you can see its’ effects, and you comfortably put your life on the line for gravity a hundred times a day. If someone told you gravity wasn’t real you’d think they sounded mad, and if they told you YOU were the one out of touch, and that actually gravity wasn’t real, you could just look around and go “Uh... obviously you’re wrong.” But if you’re getting bad info into your brain you could be relying on something with JUST AS MUCH certainty and have absolutely no idea or capacity to tell that it’s actually completely wrong, no matter how many times you were told or shown. Medicated psychotic people regain their insight and can say “Sometimes I think things that don’t make sense, and I can tell that they’re not real, and I’m glad I don’t make choices based on that false information.” Unmanaged psychotic people say “I don’t know why I should take some pill, I’m fine, nothing’s wrong at all.”

I just canNOT fathom how any psychiatrist in the world would sit with a known schizophrenic patient who’s describing having active visions, who believes that a god they found in the middle of the forest is sending people to them so they can all be magically healed by them, and not IMMEDIATELY say to themselves “Hmm, this person is clearly having a psychotic event, is clearly in a tough spot, and needs their meds adjusted and maybe we should look into their wellbeing in the short term.”

All of which led me to suddenly jump up in my chair and shout “OH MY GOD” at my poor friend who was watching with me. Because I think that Lottie is being manipulated. I think that someone’s been fucking with her meds. I think that someone got rid of her real psychiatrist and replaced him with a plant. I think the new psych is either trying to encourage her to become a more invested cult leader, possibly the cult is becoming like... more intense without her knowledge and they’re trying to turn her into a saint by removing her meds and encouraging her delusions. OR someone is trying to work out what REALLY happened in the woods and they’re manipulating her so that she’ll tell them the full story while she’s vulnerable and confused.

Either way, I’m 99.9% sure someone’s deliberately fucking with her at this point, and it’s actually really pissing me off because I can’t stand seeing vulnerable people, esp mentally ill people, being manipulated and used. It’s a HUGE thing for me, and ... aaaaaah whoever’s behind this shit I hope they meet Shauna on a very bad day.

[bitethedevil]

Writer game!

What recurring themes/topics in your writing do you have?

TW: Talk of Abuse and Trauma

Also: beware of spoilers if you haven't yet read Living with The Devil You Know and want to.

I think in general there’s a big theme of trauma and abusive and toxic behavior in my writing. This is also why I prefer writing Dark!Raphael. It’s almost hard not to include those subjects with him, which might be why I’m enjoying writing him so much. I’ve directed plays in the past, and for some reason the major theme in those plays have always ended up being trauma.

It’s an interesting concept to explore I think, and perhaps also, on a more personal note, because I find it therapeutic to explore it through art. Also, before I keep yapping, I also just want to say that there is no wrong way to experience trauma, and that the things I write about are mainly from my own perspective and things I have learned about myself through dealing with my past and by talking to others with similar experiences (Nothing to worry about at all btw, I am better than I have ever been. Therapy is a godsend).

I try to make it as realistic as I can. Such as small things and reactions from my characters that I don’t blatantly point out is due to trauma, but it makes sense in that context.

My best example is Tav in ‘Living with The Devil You Know’ (Spoilers). She’s grown up with a cruel father who beat her, and it’s hinted at that he also verbally abused her. Her trauma presents itself both mentally and physically in the form of the burn scars on her face that she had chosen to hide for years.

Ironically, it’s Raphael who reveals them, even though he is the same kind of man as her father was. She shows it to him without knowing if he accepts her for it or he simply does it to ‘pour salt in the wound’, so to speak. Tav also learns that just ignoring her scars of the past, metaphorically and literally, does not mean that they have gone away.

On the other hand, she also continues the cycle of abuse in a way. She’s cold, selfish and overly practical at times towards other people, because that is how she has learned to survive. She begins to see herself as evil instead of trying to understand where it is all coming from, which I think unfortunately is very realistic for many survivors of abuse. It’s much easier to simply demonize oneself than to start dealing with the past and explore where those survival mechanisms are coming from.

I also think their relationship is depressingly representative of a lot of abusive and toxic relationships. I think that very few people figure out immediately that ‘Oh shit. My partner is cruel and abusive towards me, and they are actually not a good person’. It’s more ‘Oh they did manipulate me that one time, and they did do that other horrible thing too, but other times they are really nice and loving! They’re human too and makes mistakes!”.

Tav rationalizes the shit out of everything that man does A LOT. I love writing characters like that. With Tav specifically, her tragic flaw is that she has been abused in the past. She knows how it works. She is aware of what’s going on. And still: a part of her thinks she deserves it, because she sees herself as ‘evil’ too.

(Spoilerspoilerspoiler if you haven’t read the latest chapter. Though it is pretty obvious that it would happen eventually) Even after she is freed, as she has longed for, she goes right back to him, though she knows exactly what kind of person he is. Because the depressing truth about a lot of untreated trauma is that abuse and evil starts feeling safer and more like home, than a functional relationship ever could, because such a relationship is unknown.

I find Raphael interesting for many reasons, but the themes of abuse and toxicity are so interesting for me to work with when it comes to him, because it just makes sense. An abusive relationship with an abusive person on paper sounds horrible and one might not understand how those things even happen. Like why would a person ever “”accept”” being abused?

But then you see someone like Raphael, who we all know is an evil little shit, and we still love him. We still want to be with him, and we are still attracted to him. He has his redeeming qualities and it’s very possible that he has been through some shit himself, sure, but that’s the point: such is the case with most abusers. They don’t appear as monsters or devils (though Raphael quite literally does), they appear as nuanced human beings. Doesn’t make them less abusive or dangerous though.

I like writing about conflicted people who does things against their best interests, because they have been somehow wired or indirectly forced to do so. I like making my characters take decisions that are objectively ‘stupid’, but still make myself (and the reader, hopefully) think about if I really would have done much differently given the same circumstances?

Thank you for coming to my TedTalk.

(And thank you so much for letting me participate and giving the opportunity to yap about my writing <3<3)

[ikamigami]

I miss Old Moon. At this point, Old Moon was nicer to everyone than New Moon is. He sympathized with villains, he actually CHECKED IN on his family- kept them in the loop about things- Told his brother that he loved him more than once every six months!!!

I WANT to like New Moon, but they're making it harder and harder to continue doing so.

And I think with Earth's therapy sessions going on, Old Moon could work through his anger issues & other trauma.

No one was given time to grieve. No one gets to talk about him because it makes New Moon uncomfortable- hhhhh How am I supposed to finish this "Sun-gets-hurt-BAD" fic if I can't bring myself to LIKE THIS GUY anymore?!

Old Moon wasn't bad person. That's for sure. But he was very abusive towards Sun. He loved Sun but he was showing it rarely. And believe me when I say that but I'm sure that Old Moon would totally blame Sun for what happened last year. Because OM already was acting as if the trauma he had to endure was Sun's fault. I don't miss Old Moon that much because he was unable to change towards Sun. And in my eyes it's important because Sun was the closest person to OM for goodness sake! And yet he treated villains with more understanding and compassion than his own brother. Nothing can excuse the abuse he inflicted on Sun. Showrunners were showing us times and times again that OM was unable to change towards Sun to the point that I didn't want to watch the episodes with him...

New Moon is like total opposite to Old Moon. I mean his actions are a total opposite cause he really is showing Sun that he cares about him more than Old Moon but when it comes to villains he treats them awfully. There's zero understanding and compassion towards them. Yes, New Moon doesn't realise that his actions affect Sun badly but because his paranoia is blinding him. I'm happy that New Moon doesn't blame Sun for anything that happened. Also New Moon is willing to change but he's too much focused on being not like Old Moon plus his paranoia is getting in the way.

Old Moon and New Moon has so much in common and yet they're so so different. New Moon has his flaws but I think that his willingness to change will help him change. Both of them realise the issues they have but Old Moon didn't want to do anything about that. He was unwilling to change. New Moon on the other hand is trying to be better. He's taking some actions towards that. The problem is that the actions he's taking are not the best.

And Solar the only one person who spends the most time with New Moon besides Sun is unable to stop Moon in his tracks because he is similar in the regard of paranoia and how he treats villains. Both Solar and Moon don't care about villains. Solar is just more calm. Which I believe that Old Moon would have similar approach.

Idk if Earth would be able to help Old Moon. He should had to be willing to take action towards bettering himself. And OM had really hard time with that.

I'm certainly mad at New Moon for being too pissed off at Sun for lying to him that he didn't care even to listen to Sun. But at least New Moon can apologize to others! Unlike Old Moon. He apologize to Sun once and it still was not that good. But I'm totally mad that he didn't apologize to Sun in his last message! Vsjabsksks

Both Old Moon and New Moon are pretty much egotistic individuals and that's why Old Moon was focused too much on his own pain and trauma to the point that he didn't care about Sun's well-being. Sun's psychotic episode wouldn't be that bad if Old Moon was taking care of Sun better. New Moon on the other hand can't extend his compassion towards villains. His compassion ends on his family. I think that it's understandable. He needs more time to learn how to be more sympathetic towards villains. But we need to understand that New Moon doesn't have any reasons to learn that. In his eyes it's pointless. They're villains who hurt his family so he doesn't have any sympathy for them.

But I think that if New Moon was shown why it's better to treat others even if they're villains more nicely, he would do that. I'm almost 100% sure that he'll learn things the hard way by losing Sun because of his bad decisions.

Anyway New Moon has flaws but I'd take him over Old Moon any day.

People can still like and prefer Old Moon and dislike New Moon. I also had a time when I was angry at New Moon with the way he was towards Sun. But when I understand him more now I can't help but to feel sympathy towards him. Unlike with Old Moon whom I tried to give benefit of doubt at first but later I found myself unable to sympathise with him. I don't hate OM though. But I'm honestly glad that the reset happened. Even if I really wanted for Old Moon to change towards Sun I doubt that he would be able. And Sun is affected by Old Moon's abuse to this day. And it still affects Sun the most. More than any other experience in his life.

Another important thing is that both Old Moon and New Moon has questionable morals but I think that people are seeing that more in New Moon because he hates their blorbo villains. On the other hand I still see that some people don't see how much Old Moon was abusive towards Sun which irks me tbh...

It seems that we have to agree to disagree. But that's okay with me ^^

In addition I say that New Moon's experience is pretty similar to New BM's and now New Eclipse's because all of them had their past be shown to them. They experienced their past in third person's p.o.v. It's very interesting and I think that it's intentional.

[broadwaybalogna]

Times I’ve inserted myself onto Zuko or Katara and helped myself.

I JUST made a post about self inserting on Katara and also Zuko and how it’s okay. This post will go over times I’ve done it and how I was able to help myself through rough times.

1. An except from “They Say Beauty is Pain”, a fic I wrote surrounding body image and dysmorphia.

”I don’t know. I guess I just…” she struggled to find the words to explain her feelings, “for lack of a better term, wish I liked my body more?”

[…]

”I think there are parts of ourselves that we all fail to understand and accept,” he finally began after a long pause. “I mean, look at me. I have a huge scar on my face but you sit next to me and tell me how beautiful it makes me. […] The same goes for you. […] Whatever you may dislike about yourself, I know I love it more than you could imagine. […] We all have things we’re insecure about, yeah. But I think the opinions that matter most are those closest to us and can best shape us to love ourselves the most. If that even makes sense.”

This entire one-shot was me writing about my experience with my body. As a firm hurt/comfort lover, I had to find a way for Katara (or me) to be comforted. This can go for my readers as well, people who may associate themselves with Katara and also suffer from body image issues can (I hope) read this and feel comforted about themselves.

2. An except from “Sleep When You Can, My Dear (I’ll Be Here When You Wake)” a fic I wrote about taking meds and the effects it can have on a person.

”For a long time, I didn’t know who I was without my trauma. It shaped my entire personality to who I am today. Every piece of me became what it was because of my own suffering. I didn’t know how different I would be if I… healed. The idea of a version of myself that wasn’t who I was in that moment was scary… But I realized, over time, that even though those moments will forever shape who I am as a person, they don’t have to define me. I am not some girl who lost her mother two years ago and goes to therapy for it. I’m more than that. And you’re more than the boy with father issues who needs medication. We improve ourselves each day by living and accepting that we can be better. And I look forward to knowing that the next day, I’ll get new experiences that will shape who I become.”

Guys, I can only write stuff like this by putting myself into the characters shoes. I actually technically inserted myself into BOTH Katara and Zuko to write this. How would I react to someone saying this? How would I comfort my partner (if I had one)?

3. An except from “The Psychology of a Test” which is about finding a balance between school and life.

“Zuko,” Katara finally said, lowering her voice and finally becoming more calm, “I don’t really know much about your relationship with your dad- or school. But it was so nice seeing you actually happy and talking these past few days. It really put things into perspective for me. I realize that I’ve been studying so much all the time, that I never thought about how it affected you. I’m sorry.”

“What? No, don’t be sorry. My relationship with school is.. complicated at best, but in no way is any of it your fault,” he sat up to face Katara, “but I have realized how much more I like being free. I just need to find a balance.”

“Could I- could I help you find it?” Katara asked after a short moment has passed.

“I’d love that.”

Many published authors will say that what they write is based on real experiences they have gone through. Why is it okay for published authors to do this and not fanfiction authors?

Don’t let ANYONE tell you that you can’t write characters to connect with you.

You CAN.

[nterini]

In Defense of Hira - A textbook case of C-PTSD caused by Childhood Abuse and Neglect

In a lot of the shows that I watch, especially with teens or young adults relating to trauma, or any genre really, there’s always a playful question on my mind: where are their parents? However, at this point in show, it’s becoming so much more apparent that the lack of support Hira received growing up, is fundamental to the way that he sees himself and his position in the world around him. So much so that as much as I want to joke about Hira being as dense as a stone wall, I find myself becoming increasingly uncomfortable in how much my own trauma and reactions to isolation mirror Hira’s.

Symptoms of complex PTSD

Feelings of worthlessness, shame and guilt.

Problems controlling your emotions.

Finding it hard to feel connected with other people.

Relationship problems, like having trouble keeping friends and partners. (Source: NHS)

How was Hira Traumatized?

He was left to his own defenses at an early age and had to fend for himself. Just because they provided him with a house and money for food doesn’t mean they took care of him. He was also bullied for a speech impediment and isolated by his peers as a result. He’s probably never had anyone listen to him closely or had close emotional or physical relationships in his life. Extended periods of neglect in childhood and then more intense isolation later on is extremely damaging.

Trauma manifests differently. Before therapy, it was really difficult for me to wrap my head around the fact that I wasn’t actually invisible to friends and family. It took a quite aggressive and embarrassing event, (now funny and touching really) for me to understand that if I deviated from my own patterns or if I disappeared or didn’t contact people for hours that people would actually miss me or think about me. I went out and watched a movie after an event, and told one person through text. After the two hour movie, I turned my phone back on and found 30 missed calls. My mother had informed me that she had called the police and that the principal had formed a search party for me. My face was plastered all over Snapchat by my classmates.  I was mortified by what I believed to be a waste of resources and time on my behalf. Such a loud display of love and even then all I could think about was hiding away and making myself smaller. I wasn’t even decent enough to acknowledge the pain, worry, and fear they felt at the thought that someone they loved went missing. It took multiple years later: a very a tentative mother and aunt, very involved teachers, mentors and friends plus therapy for me to stop feeling like a ghost. To get out of my own head and stop trying to fade in the background as a coping mechanism. After being abandoned by his mother to live alone in a house so she could be with the family she wants, after being isolated by his classmates for having a stutter all throughout high school, only one person knocked loudly enough at the door attached to the fortress Hira built in his mind to cope with his trauma. Kiyoi.

That mental fortress is why Hira is alive today. It kept him safe when he had to sleep in the dark alone as a young boy when he had to cook his own meals. His social ineptitude is due to years of isolation and degradation by those around him. He wasn’t deemed worthy enough by his own mother to be taken care of. Yet Kiyoi loves and sees him. Kiyoi says his name and holds his hand and kisses him and suddenly Hira is solid mass. Not a shadow on the wall or the useless child not worth keeping. He becomes slightly more than nothing. In Hira’s mind he becomes a pebble. Sigh. Well it’s a start. But it’s not enough. It’s gonna take a real miracle for Hira to overcome years of trauma and see himself as a human being. I believe in him though. He’s so brave. No like really though, some of the shit he says is so cringey it takes real guts. Kiyoi is not going to give up on Hira anytime soon he’s too much of an exhibitionist for Hira and a freak (endearingly). Also, Hira is obsessive and intense, so they’re a perfect match.

He just needs proper counseling and a bit of time. I’m rooting for them.

[vizthedatum]

I’ve been in therapy for a while - was mandated to go by my school in senior year of high school (my first therapist was an asshole and got fired - he yelled at me and stuff but I didn’t report it), then really briefly in sophomore year of college, and then consistently since 2017 after I exited a very tough relationship (I remember my obgyn telling me how worried she was for me, told me to go to therapy, and told me that maybe I should admit myself to the local psych ward for a bit… while he was in the waiting room). I’ve had a couple therapists since 2017 including a brief stint at an IOP. I refuse to be admitted to any psych wards due to my trauma of seeing my brother be admitted on and off for over a decade (and I guess, other reasons).

I think I considered my therapy more seriously in 2017 but I didn’t really internalize my lessons and stuff until very recently.

It took a long time for me to dissect my sense of self, and I’m still working on it.

I have a lot that I’m undoing from my childhood.

Simply going to therapy isn’t an overnight, or even overyear (I made this term up), fix! Meaning, therapy is just one ongoing thing you’re doing for your self-care.

It’s okay that it takes you a while to wade through your life to figure out where you’re headed.

It’s okay if you succumb to your old patterns time and time again. I know I have! They’re patterns for a reason - it’s been very hard for me to break out of them, but I know I’m making a lot of progress.

I didn’t even fully acknowledge my transness and neurodivergence until 2021. (Also me: I didn’t even fully consider myself disabled until 2014 when my doctor (who diagnosed me with interstitial cystitis) told me so. But like I’ve been disabled my entire life - and I’m so burned out by telling myself I’m not.)

Being your authentic self is hard especially when society tells you that you should do XYZ and then you’ll be healed.

I remember my current boss responding to me “Still?” after I told her I was still healing after several weeks of a horrible bout of physical infection, physical flare ups, and a huge exacerbation of my PTSD symptoms last summer. She didn’t even know about my chronic disabilities or the traumatic events of my life - all she knew was that I had a couple of doctor’s notes about how I had an infection and I needed to recover.

I have come to accept that people will not understand the chronic nature of what I go through, let alone the mental aspect of it all. After all, my high school counselor told me I’d be homeless because I was missing so much school due to my migraines - it didn’t occur to her that I was a high achieving student or that I may be going through other underlying health or environmental things - she told a teenager that, and it’s haunted me ever since.

I have disappointed so many people in my life.

But I know that moving forward, I have to stop feeling so much shame about being me. Even if I disappoint myself, I must forgive myself and keep going.

I am loving myself more and more all the time.

[yepthatsacowalright]

Doctor Who, The Process Of Healing From Trauma, and Me: A Text Post Essay No One Asked For

Back in 2006ish, when I first started watching Doctor Who as a teenager in late high school/early college, it captivated me mind, body, and soul. I ate that early 2000s, broody-complex-hero shit up.

I loved that the Doctor grappled with the guilt and regret from some truly fucked up shit he did, and I loved that he gave the middle finger to it by going on wild, ridiculous-special-effects-ed adventures instead of attempting the mortifying ordeal of opening up about it.

I'm sure, judging by how popular the 2005 version of the show became, a lot of my generation felt similar. 9/11 hadn’t been that long ago. We were coming of age and starting to sense that the world kind of sucked major ass, and perhaps the older generations had been super lying to us about most things this whole time.

As such, Rose Tyler was living the dream as far as I was concerned. Abandoning her place in this bullshit society to go help people and save lives with someone who never settled, who always ran towards the darkness, who found ways to laugh and dance in it even…Rose's lifestyle was goals.

Not only did the Ninth and Tenth Doctor's struggle to opening up about what they'd been through or forgive themselves for it not bother teen me at all, I preferred it. It was understandable and relatable. I wasn't ready to actually look at and deal with any of my own problems either, I just didn't want to pretend like I had none. Admitting there's a problem is the first step, and that's where Nine, Ten, Rose, and me all hung out and had fun.

Rose’s "death" was when I started to feel differently. It wasn't that I didn't still enjoy the show - I kept watching through Martha and Donna's seasons, and also a little bit into Eleven's run - but it wasn't the same. I could never quite get over the loss of Rose, or how the Doctor chose to get over it by doing what he always did - ignore and repress.

It had been much easier to watch the Doctor do this with trauma when I didn't know much about what he'd been through, but every time he avoided the topic of Rose, or minimized who she was, it pissed me off. It felt bad to watch him do that to the memory of someone who mattered.

I was starting to realize that just admitting you had problems wasn't sustainable. I couldn't stay on that first step indefinitely, and Doctor Who didn't feel like it was my show anymore, which was fine. After all, it's a family-friendly series. An episode on intergalactic talk therapy is not going to be a hit with the kids.

I was off to have the one adventure the Doctor never could - to understand and manage my own mental health. Learning about psychology, learning about trauma, going to therapy. I processed, I surprised myself, I found new stories to obsess over that resonated with a different, older version of me.

Whenever I popped back into Doctor Who, it felt more nostalgic than anything else. It reminded me of how I used to feel, and how far I'd come. I had that bittersweet feeling of wishing I could connect with it the way I used to, but being grateful that the reason I couldn't was a positive, therapeutic one.

And then…the 60th Anniversary Specials.

David Tennant didn’t even do anything that different in his performance, and he admits as much in interviews. Trying to replicate what he did as the Tenth wouldn't make sense because he isn't the Tenth, and trying to do something completely new wouldn't make sense because then why bring back David at all?

He just played the role as an actor who's lived 10 more years since the last time he played the role, and brother that shit hit me hard.

All the natural, subtle, perhaps subconscious changes in him made me feel the weight of slightly too many years passing. Despite knowing I am relatively young, l’m at a point in my life where I, for the first time, feel old.

Gray hairs and smile lines that were only on the faces of grownups are now on the faces of me and my friends. I know I don't know it all, and also realize I know even less than I thought I did. Love feels deeper, loss feels heavier. I'm compelled to express feelings of gratitude and affection I used to always keep to myself. Oh, is that who I am now?

I love that the Doctor's body didn't just go back to Ten's face, but to an aged version of Ten's face. A version that would align with the aged version of Donna's. I know this was not a creative choice, it was literally just what David and Catherine look like now, but how perfect for time itself to play a role in the story, too.

I love that the Doctor, at last, had to catch up with what his body was telling him. To notice his feelings and learn what those feelings meant. Like the title of one of my favorite (and extremely relevant to this this post) books says, the body keeps the score.

And I loved the bi-generation.

I loved that Fourteen made the choice to stop and ask his friends to help him do it.

I know that RTD proposed a theory that in that moment all the previous regenerations became bi-generations as well, but I like the idea that all the others could have bi-generated, but didn't. They weren't ready to look at themselves, or ask for that help from anyone. Not until now.

And I love love LOVE Ncuti Gatwa as Fifteen. I love that the healed next Doctor is a millennial. That he is a Doctor who can freely say he loved his friends, he loved Rose, can tell his former self, "I love you."

The show's become such a beautiful portrayal of generational trauma and healing that did not know that's what it was until its end.

And now, it begins again.

[ashwithane]

happy 5th anniversary, fire emblem three houses!

i didn’t have time to do anything super elaborate, but i’m glad i could at least make some simple drawings of how i looked when the game released vs how i look now. i tried to give them a similar vibe to the in-game portraits haha

rant below about my feelings right now because there’s a Lot to say! content warning for mental illness and childhood trauma 🫠🤙

as you can see in the drawings, i’ve come a long way in the past five years. when three houses first released, i was a deeply insecure high schooler who never dared to speak up or express themself. i struggled with self worth issues and had long since begun developing ocd symptoms as a result of the fear i had that there was something wrong with me, something i couldn’t possibly know or change but that everyone would see if i made a single wrong move.

throughout high school, and my adolescence as a whole, i had a hard time connecting with people. but when i played three houses, i connected with the story, the characters, the ability to replay it again and again and always try something new, change characters’ classes and find new paired endings and discover the little details i hadn’t noticed before. i was playing three houses the weekend after covid lockdown was announced, and i remember talking to one of my friends about this cool game i’d just started my second playthrough of. we laughed and talked about the game, figuring that lockdown would only last a few weeks, and then things would be back to normal.

lockdown was difficult for me, as it was for most people. but at the same time, not going to school in person meant i could afford to let my guard down. i could afford to unmask, and discover who i was when i didn’t spend every moment in fear of what others would think. and so when lockdown ended, i started college still timid, but somewhat more familiar with who i was inside.

and then, one day, a thought hit me out of nowhere.

“am i trans???”

and thus began the journey of self-discovery that was my first summer after college. i started using the name ashe, started using any pronouns and later switched to just they/them. i also finally got up the courage to tell my parents i wanted to get tested for autism, and came back with that diagnosis to explain almost everything i hadn’t had the words to understand before.

recently, my mental health has gotten worse. i got diagnosed with anxiety at the same time i got my autism diagnosis, but nobody told me i have ocd as well until earlier this year. things took a nosedive for me over this past school year—i stopped taking risks, barely left my college campus, barely allowed myself to put effort into social connections out of fear that i’d be forcing people to put up with me. but through therapy and medication, i’ve been working through those feelings, and the fears my brain internalized as a result of the way i grew up: feeling like something was wrong with me, but not knowing what. today, i feel pretty good! i’ve been having more and more good days, so i’m overall optimistic about what my future holds.

to bring this back on topic, fire emblem: three houses has gotten me through countless tough times, and has been immensely helpful in figuring out who i am. so in honor of the anniversary, i’d like to give a special thank you to the characters who have been the most important to me over the past five years.

ashe: i’ll start with the obvious. ashe is the character i stole my name from, so of course he will always hold a special place in my heart. in addition to that though, ashe’s earnest personality and commitment to doing the right thing is immensely inspiring to me. he proves that it’s possible to make mistakes and grow from them, that your life isn’t over after one misstep. ashe has taught me to never give up on doing the right thing, and being the best version of myself i can be.

felix: this list would not be complete without the scrunkly of all time! obviously i find felix to be a very compelling character and fun to write, but his significance to me goes beyond being a writing muse. i’ve often thought that i wish i’d had a friend like felix when i was younger, and even now—someone who would drag me into situations i found stressful and encourage me (in his own rude way) to have confidence in myself. someone who would have stood up for me against the people who treated me like i was lesser. felix inspires me to fight for what i want, his shield symbolizing the ability to make your own choices for what and who you defend. he reminds me that there’s no glory in being a martyr, and so i shouldn’t make my well being a second priority. i love you felix and i’m sorry i put you through the horrors regularly (but not sorry enough to stop).

marianne: it’s probably concerning to say i see a lot of myself in marianne. her journey is incredibly inspiring to me, especially now as i see that the past five years have taken me along a similar path to hers. marianne starts out thinking she’s too different from everyone else to deserve a life like theirs, and condemns herself to crushing loneliness all to avoid the possibility of her hurting the people she loves. and yet she learns to live for herself, realizes that her mere existence doesn’t cause any harm, and learns to embrace her right to enjoy life. i hope to have the same strength she does, so that one day i can reach that point as well.

linhardt: no joke, i realized i was neurodivergent because of linhardt. so many of his lines and support conversations made me go “ha, he’s so autistic/adhd coded!” i made these comments repeatedly, but i also kept noticing all the little ways in which i related to him. linhardt was one of many autistic people who made me go “huh, i do that too! what do you mean that’s not normal???” his character also serves as a reminder that it’s okay to take a break once and a while, and that looking after myself doesn’t mean i don’t care about others.

if there’s one thing left to say, it’s thank you. thank you to ashe, felix, marianne, linhardt, mercedes, sylvain, ignatz, hapi, yuri, hell—my oc rowan, all the characters i’ve connected with and loved so deeply over the past five years. thank you fire emblem three houses, not for being the only reason i am where i am today, but being a major part of it nonetheless. and if anyone’s still reading, thank you for making it this far, and happy timeskip! 🎉

[k-s-morgan]

Hi, I hope you are safe and sound

I've been meaning to ask you a question about asexuality but was afraid it would be too personal. Your recent post is about, so I guess it's ok to ask, but if not, feel free to skip

I'm still young enough, going through my university years, but I've never felt attraction towards anyone. Even as a teenager at school. (Now, I'm not even sure if I can love anyone as a partner) Though I like reading romantic stories and do understand when a person is 'attractive' or not. So, the question is how/when did you understand that you are asexual and do you have any tips perhaps? It's just so upsetting for me to feel pressure from not only society but also my parents who expect me to find a lover and have a family

Hello! Oh, please don't worry, I don't mind any kind of personal questions as long as they are not deliberately offensive!

Asexuality means a lack of sexual attraction to anyone, but there is such thing as aesthetic attraction, meaning that you find some people aesthetically pleasing, very beautiful, etc. From what you said, you might be referring to it. Asexuals are perfectly capable of evaluating the general attractiveness of a person and they might even have their preferred ideal of beauty.

In my case: for a long time, I was confused because I felt aesthetic attraction., and like, I adored reading and writing and watching romance stories. It's my favorite genre. All of this made me think that I’m bisexual, and I identified as such. But even when I admired a person’s beauty, it was more like admiring a painting. I felt no desire to do anything sexual with them (or anything romantic). When I saw a great character, I wanted to ship them with someone instead of seeing myself with them.

When I read about asexuality, something finally clicked, and I was thrilled with understanding who I am. I never doubted it since I found my label around 23, and I knew at that point that I’m just not attracted to people, neither romantically nor sexually. If you live that long and you never experience what other people do, to me, it's a clear indication that you're different in some way. I was excited to find the source of this difference.

The most important thing is what and how you feel. You can find a definition that describes you best and makes you feel comfortable; you can change your mind later. Many people dislike labels in general; I felt pleased when I found one, but we all have different experiences. Just try not to push yourself into something you don’t want or don’t like. Even if others don’t respect your sexuality/preferences, respect them yourself and I think (and hope) that you’ll be happy.  

I understand about feeling pressure, and I'm sorry. I wish I knew what to say here. My immediate family is very supportive, but everyone else is often annoying. I’ve never dated anyone, I never felt romantic or sexual interest to anyone; I had my first kiss + sex out of curiosity when I was 22, and it didn’t change anything in me - it was just a weird, very mechanical activity. But my friends and most of my relatives still say stuff like, “Oh, honey, you just haven’t met the right person yet! Have you tried therapy? I hope this year, you’ll find the love of your life! Would you like me to set you up with my friend?” My Mom tried to explain to her co-workers why I don’t plan on getting married, and they all refuse to accept that asexuality exists. They think I must be hiding some trauma. This is extremely offensive and infuriating. 

Sexuality is a part of who you are. I try to make people around me understand it, but they just blink at me in confusion. I ask heterosexual folks, “Why are you so sure you are straight? Maybe you just haven’t find the right man/woman.” When my aunt wished me to find a partner for the 100th time, I waited for her birthday and wished her to become a surgeon (she never had any relation or interest in medicine). She seemed to understand something, but a few months later, we were back to where we started. Still, maybe something like this could help you?

I'm comfortable and happy with myself, so while other people are a source of occasional frustration, their opinions don't really affect me.

I don't know how aggravating your situation is or might get, so the only thing I can say is that I hope you remember that your happiness with yourself matters most. You might figure out what label fits you best, you might start/keep changing them - as long as you’re comfortable with who you are, it’s all fine!