#and have even had trichotillomania | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

munsonkitten · 4 months ago

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[genderqueer transmasc eddie, angst/mental illness, trichotillomania]

It’s difficult to pinpoint when this all started. Eddie thinks it might’ve been when his mom got sick, or maybe not until after she died. Life is a bit fuzzy before that, though, so it could’ve had nothing to do with her death, he could’ve been fucked up way earlier. Or maybe it was later — the first time his dad left him home by himself, nothing else to ease the boredom in his mind.

He just knows it’s never been this bad. That started after the Upside Down. It started getting worse and worse in the weeks he started to regain his strength. In the days when he could hold his arm in the right position for as long as his brain told him to.

When it really started doesn’t really matter. Eddie just knows there’s only one way to make it stop. He knows that the only way to stop pulling out his hair, strand after strand, is to shave it down to his skull. He has to make it so short his fingertips have nothing to latch onto. Nothing to tug, pull, rip out.

At least, he thinks it’ll help in theory. Things weren’t so bad the last time he buzzed his head. Just about eleven years old and doing it so he could figure himself out. So he could take control of the way people looked at him, so they’d see a little boy instead of the girl he was born as.

He found himself. He grew from that point, grew his hair again and got started on hormones so everyone would see him as a boy even if he liked the things girls liked, too. He found himself in his long hair and the jewelry he wore. In the pink bandaids over scraped knees and the nail polish on callused fingers. He found himself in the places in between, found himself in the girl he was born as and the boy he’s become.

And now he feels like he’s losing himself instead. Holding a pair of scissors above his head. His hair is dirty and matted now because he can’t bear to look at it most days. Can’t bear to wash it and brush it and move pieces of it because he knows he’ll see the damage he’s done to it. At least like this, tied back in a ponytail, he doesn’t have to look at it.

But he can’t keep doing this. He can’t keep pulling and pulling, leaving wounds across his scalp, flaying himself open for a split second of relief. He can’t keep doing this.

As much as it hurts to take the scissors to his hair, he knows it’s all he can do. He can’t keep living the way he’s been living.

He snips away at snarls until he can pull the hair tie free from them, a few harsh yanks on the overstretched piece of elastic. He drops it to the floor, snaps open the clips he uses to keep the shorter hairs in place, watches his hair fan out around his face as he tosses those onto the counter. His bangs are overgrown, falling in his eyes, down to his cheeks.

That’s where he starts. He cuts them down, only an inch or two left up at his hairline by the time he’s through with them. His hair parts now that it’s not tied and clipped back anymore, and short, wispy hairs cover the top of his head just behind the spot his bangs used to start. It’s thin, but regrowing up there. Sparse, but showing signs of recovering in some of the spots, nonetheless.

He’ll take that. It’s a good sign that the other spots should grow back in, too. If he can just give them a chance.

Trying to avoid looking as much as possible, Eddie cuts away chunks of hair. It takes a long time — even with the obvious thinning, he still has so much hair and these scissors aren’t meant for this kind of job. He has to take small chunks, snip through them until his thumb aches, holding his arms up until those ache too.

Hair falls to the floor around him, some of it catching on his shirt and some of it falling into the sink. It’ll be a mess to clean up, but Eddie knows he has to see this through.

When everything is short enough that he’s confident he can get the clippers through without getting caught, he sets the scissors down.

The first strip he shaves away has him holding his breath. The buzzing filling the room almost drowns out the sound of his blood rushing in his ears — almost.

He’s shaking and he knows he should stop and take a minute to calm down, but he feels like he’s running out of time. He spent so long going back and forth about whether or not he was going to do this, and now he feels like Wayne could come home from The Attic at any time and find him. He wants to be done before his uncle gets back. He wants to be locked in his bedroom with a hat on his head and the strings of a sweatshirt hood pulled tight, and he doesn’t want anyone to see him for a month.

He keeps going, shaving away chunks and strips of hair. It’s as short as he can make it with the clippers, so short he knows his fingers won’t have anything to latch onto when he goes to pull.

The entire time, he doesn’t look in the mirror if he doesn’t need to. He feels around the back of his head to find straggling hairs, and sometimes he pulls them out instead of shaving them. Last chance to feel it, his brain tells his fingers. So he pulls, feeling that sting of pain that feels good in the worst ways. It’s not the right one, though. Different hair feels different coming out, and this one wasn't right — he has to tell himself that even if it was, it wouldn’t mean anything.

Just one more until you feel it, his brain supplies. One more good one and you can stop.

He makes himself shave away the rest of that chunk, not letting himself form another bald spot when he’s this close to the end. It’s never just one more. It takes so much to make himself stop once he allows that thought to take hold.

When the last strip of hair falls away, he clicks off the clippers and yanks the plug from the wall. He sets the clippers down on the counter with shaking hands and lowers himself down to the floor before he can even look at himself in the mirror. Matted and greasy hair surrounds him. So much of it, just covering the bathroom tiles in dark swirls. He feels shorter clippings against his neck, slipping down into the opening of his shirt. He knows some of it is slipping down into the bandages he binds his chest with, that they’ll get inside and itch until he takes it all off.

He’ll have to clean it all up and he’ll have to shower, but for now he just sits on the floor with his knees hugged to his chest.

It’s done.

Years and years of growing out his hair and grappling with dysphoria and the expectations set on him, and now he’s back to square one. He’s back to the tiny prickly hairs sticking out from his scalp while part of his entire identity lays on the floor.

It’s never just been hair to him.

For someone like him, someone who spent a long time trying to force himself into a narrow view of masculinity, his hair was a symbol of freedom. A symbol of expression.

It took him a long time to understand that he doesn’t have to be just a boy. It’s easier to explain that way, it’s safer to present as close to it as possible because Eddie feels closer to that side than he does to the other, but it’s not as simple as that in his head.

Letting himself enjoy the feminine things only became possible when he was comfortable with the way people saw him. It only became possible when he got to the other end of the spectrum between girl and boy from where he started, and only then did he allow himself to walk it back. His hair is the way he did that, and his brain fought him every step of the way.

Between telling him he wasn’t going to be seen the right way, to telling his fingers to rip it all out day after day, strand after strand, his hair has always been proof of something.

It was a sense of nonconformity, a big ‘fuck you’ to the world and to the voices in his head saying he couldn’t be more than one thing at once.

And on a more surface level, Eddie liked it because it made him feel pretty. He felt pretty and he was happy with that. He liked the way he looked with his long hair, like the rockstars he’s had crushes on since he was a kid.

Now Eddie feels his head with one hand and feels worse than he has in a really long time. It feels like he’s dying all over again, but this time he knows he’s going to make it out alive. He knows he’s going to keep going, and that makes it all worse than when he was really, physically about to die.

It’s fitting, he thinks, that Steve’s the one who finds him. He doesn’t remember making plans with him today, but that doesn’t matter. Eddie’s found out lately that people just show up sometimes. Especially for someone like Eddie who’s barely holding on by a thread most days. He thinks he cut that last thread along with the ponytail he snipped away, that it sent him tumbling and falling into the point of no return.

But yeah, maybe it’s fitting that Steve’s the one to find him today. It’s not the first time he’s found Eddie laying on the ground surrounded by pieces of himself. Greasy swirls of his hair cover the cool linoleum beneath him, and he just looks up at Steve, wondering if it looks like the blackness of his blood in the perpetual darkness of the Upside Down, the inky blooms spilling out underneath him. He wonders if Steve sees him and gets taken back to the night he saved Eddie.

He wonders if Steve knows there’s no saving Eddie this time. Not from this.

“Hey,” Steve says slowly. “Uh…”

“I cut my hair,” Eddie croaks.

“I see that,” Steve says. “Do you like it?”

read on ao3

#steddie #my fics #eddie munson #steve harrington #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve/eddie #steddie fic #stranger things

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usedtobethelegendcreator · 21 days ago

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Okay, just had another thought, partially inspired by Connor Quest’s “Radio Star” fan song on YouTube.

What if, instead of being in Heaven or the Void, Alastor was in a psychiatric hospital in Hell for seven years?

Think about it. An unspecified amount of time before his disappearance, he had a huge fight with Vox, someone he did care about to some extent. In the aftermath of this fight, he would have spiraled. This wasn’t a Mimzy-level argument—no, this was a personal betrayal like nothing he’d ever experienced before.

And, if Alastor was left to his own thoughts long enough, I do think it would have gotten to the point where Husk—by all evidence, his closest thrall, along with Niffty—would call someone to take him in. We know Alastor has trichotillomania (he pulls his hair out in the finale), and who knows what other kinds of danger he’d pose to himself and others in this state of distress?

And so, he’s put in a psychiatric hospital.

Now, at this hospital, there’s a mandatory deal every patient must make. Their powers are to be restrained, to decrease any risk of harm to themselves or others. Makes sense, right? Some of the sinners there could do some real damage if left unchecked, and the hospital can’t take that risk.

After seven years of slowly getting even more mentally unstable in this hospital (it is, after all, a psychiatric hospital in Hell), Alastor finally manages to break out.

While he’s on the run, and pretending he’s not, he hears the Princess’s voice. He checks it out, and he discovers that she’s opening a hotel to rehabilitate sinners. It sounds exactly like what the hospital portrayed itself to be, so he doesn’t trust it. But if he’s under the Princess’s own roof, no one can get him, right? If he gets her on his side, no one can convince her that he should return to the hospital.

So he decides to offer his services to her. Under the guise of boredom, of course—can’t have her suspecting anything!

Charlie turns down his initial offer of a deal (which could have ensured that he was there to stay), but then she commands him to help out with the hotel for as long as he desires. Alastor doesn’t want to leave the political protection, and as long as he isn’t expected to better himself, he’s plunking his ass down here and never leaving.

He summons Husk and Niffty to the hotel to help out. Niffty, who’s never been the brightest bulb, doesn’t realize anything is wrong, but Husk knows damn well Alastor’s not supposed to be out yet. If anything, Alastor is even more of a danger to himself than before. He decides to keep his mouth shut about it (at least, until Lucifer and Mimzy show up…).

Time goes on. Husk notices him getting worse, but to the other residents, nothing is off about Alastor. To them, he’s always been like that. Niffty is starting to realize something is off, too. Alastor’s presence at the hotel is revealed to the public by Vox (DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT THEY’RE GOING TO FIND HIM) and he crushes Vox in “Stayed Gone”. He says he has plans cooking that will destroy the status quo, but not even Husk knows if that’s true or not.

Then, Alastor attends the Overlord meeting. When Alastor says he was taking a “well-earned sabbatical”, Zestial squints his eyes—because he knows that Alastor would never take a break from his beloved radio show unless forced. Zestial thinks it might have something to do with the angels or Lillith, but he can’t know for sure.

By the time Lucifer visits, Alastor is dangerously close to a full breakdown. He’s been playing at (relative) sanity for several months now, but he can’t keep the facade up forever. The stress of pretending has been getting to him, and he’s about to blow like a pressure cooker. And to make matters worse, he doesn’t know if Lucifer will realize he escaped from the hospital—if Lucifer himself wants to turn him in, Charlie’s protection won’t matter anymore. So, Alastor decides to take a more fatherly approach to this perceived threat, to make double sure that, even if Charlie found out about all this, she won’t turn him in anyway.

Mimzy shows up, and for the first time in months, Alastor relaxes. Here’s a friend that’ll understand! Here’s a friend that would never turn him in! He so happy to see her that he goes right in for a hug, and it’s the safest he’s felt since he escaped.

Husk is getting really, really worried now. He’s never seen Alastor this unstable before, and now that Mimzy is visiting too—she always brings trouble with her—his boss is going to snap soon, and it’s not going to be pretty. So, he confronts Alastor in the hallway about Mimzy, and he’s trying to lead up to where Alastor has been for the past seven years (and why he was there in the first place)—

Husk brings up the hospital’s leash, in that hallway, and Alastor goes apeshit. He’s never acted like that towards Husk before, ever. He was expecting an argument, maybe some yelling, not a fucking partial transformation. Alastor is even more unstable and out of his right mind than he looks, and that’s more terrifying than any threat he could ever have made in that moment.

Mimzy brought loan sharks to the hotel’s doorstep, and Alastor gets to let off steam. This, at least, hasn’t changed, and it reassures Husk that he can still be helped. Since Mimzy’s antics threatened the safety of the hotel, which by extension is Alastor’s safety, he needs her gone. She can’t be here. He wishes he could explain everything to her, but the others are right over there, watching, and they can’t know.

During Welcome to Heaven, Alastor is completely alone in the hotel. No one is making sure he’s okay. What do you think he was doing?

When Alastor hears that Charlie is in her room alone, he sees an opportunity. He goes up there, talks to her for a bit, and walks back down with a guaranteed future favor from her. Just in case they ever come to drag him back, and his posturing as her father figure doesn’t work, he now has assurance that Charlie will not let them take him. He just has to state that as her favor, and that’s that.

Rosie is suspicious of Alastor’s actions early in the day—specifically, when he turns down an opportune deal—but decides to not say anything in front of the Princess. If Alastor needs some softer treatment for a change, she’s not going to do it in front of an outsider, regardless of status.

Niffty has finally figured out that something is very wrong, and she acts accordingly. She knows Alastor trusts her more than Husk, so she starts spending more time with him. She declares him King Roach (nothing can kill him, nothing can keep him down, he can get through anything and find a way to thrive), places a crown of needles and cockroaches on his head, and starts laughing when he says he wishes he could understand her “twisted little mind”.

He laughs with her. This laugh is less genuine than she remembers, and much more uncomfortable. Sir must be so scared, she thinks. Niffty wishes she could do more to help, but that’s a mess no amount of scrubbing will fix, and she knows it.

Alastor tries to fight Adam. He’s only vaguely aware of what he’s doing and saying, at this point. Everything is a distant blur. His microphone snaps, something sets his entire body on fire, and he doesn’t know what’s happening.

He races to the last place he remembers feeling safe—the radio tower. He sings to himself about how it smells, what he feels, and reminds himself of what happened. This place reeks of death, there’s a chill in the air, and he barely escaped being killed by a hair.

There, in the radio tower, something snaps in him, and he has a panic attack.

Only after the hotel is rebuilt has he gathered himself enough to pretend again. “And we’re doing it with a smile,” Alastor says, and he means it.

He’s going to pretend, and he’s going to do it with a smile. It ensures that he’s the one in control, after all!

@eggcats your thoughts??? I know this isn’t radiostatic (or is it??) but I’d love to poke around in your head.

#hazbin hotel #alastor #the radio demon #hazbin hotel theory #rosie #vox #niffty #husk #charlie morningstar #mimzy #au?

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alexandraisyes · 4 months ago

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This is a flag I found for ASPD. There's an entire archive of support flags for people with different kinds of Cluster B Disorders. I just really like this version.

Antisocial Personality Disorder can be disabling and is considered a social disability. Depending on the psychologist it’s also considered an emotional disability like ADHD or Bipolar.

This may not make sense at a glance, but there’s psychologically found logic behind this.

People with ASPD have severe Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), Chronic Depressive Disorder, and General Anxiety Disorder GAD).

The disorder also tends to be comorbid with Bipolar Disorder, Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD), and Depersonalization-Derealization Disorder (DDD), as well as some psychotic disorders like Brief Psychosis Disorder and Schizophrenia. although these last two aren't as common.

There's also a chance for people with ASPD to have overlapping traits from other Cluster-B Disorders (NPD, BPD, HPD). And many people with ASPD struggle with impulse disorders. Common impulse disorders related to ASPD are as follows:

Intermittent Explosive Disorder (IED): Characterized by recurrent outbursts of verbal or physical aggression that are disproportionate to the provocation.

Kleptomania: A recurrent urge to steal items that are not needed for personal use or for their monetary value.

Pyromania: An impulse control disorder characterized by recurrent and deliberate fire-setting behavior.

Pathological Gambling: Persistent and recurrent problematic gambling behavior that leads to significant distress or impairment.

Trichotillomania (Hair-Pulling Disorder): An irresistible urge to pull out one's own hair, resulting in noticeable hair loss.

Many people with ASPD also struggle with addiction and may be fighting addictions to drugs, alcohol, sex, shopping, binge eating, and social media because these are quick endorphin fixes that help us feel something due to the inherent nature of ASPD to be numb almost 24/7.

It's extremely rare for someone with ASPD to get disability aid. Which probably sounds ridiculous, when you look at this massive list of issues. A large part of it is our society. People tend to see someone who has a label that is synonymous with Sociopath and Psychopath (there's a difference between the two) and immediately want them in jail. And it doesn't matter how long they've known that person, or what their relationship is. (I got dumped last year when my ex found out I have ASPD and almost disowned during Christmas when I told my dad. The only reason I haven't been being that he thinks it's a demonic issue that can be "cured with prayer".)

On top of that, our psychology system isn't built to handle someone with a personality disorder like ASPD (or even NPD). I get told a lot "You're really self-aware." Which is basically them saying they aren't going to help you. Of course I'm self-aware if I'm going into the therapist's office for advice (at the least) and actual help (would be great), but I get turned away because if I'm "self-aware", so I should be able to figure it out. This isn't an issue that pertains directly to ASPD, it's also one that affects every disorder that's hard for a neurotypical to understand.

This is more personal. Feel free to read this in a mildly irritated, but not very much, tone of voice. Preferably a tired scholar from Skyrim, that'll make my day.

I cannot function in today's society. I can't hold down a job, and I've tried time and time again. I get a few months in and I hit a wall and my mental health goes to shit. I had to quit my last job for my physical safety because I got bored with just life in general, to the point I was seriously considering sticking my arm in a fry vat.

I haven't even managed to get a proper diagnosis because I don't have health insurance, and I have so many false disorders on my medical diagnosis sheet from my narcissistic father bullying my long-term therapist into giving me damn near every disorder except for ADHD and Conduct Disorder (I was below the age of 18, but it would have helped me in the here and now with securing the diagnosis I need for medical reasons.) Growing up several doctors I worked with wanted to get me set up for an ASPD diagnosis and my father told them no. And because of where I lived I had no say in it, and even if I did my father was abusive, so goodbye to ever speaking up for myself.

On top of that, I'm a woman. There's a severe gender bias in ASPD, as well as the fact that women with ASPD are reportedly less likely to be physically aggressive and more likely to be mentally aggressive, so our symptoms show up slightly differently than the stereotype. And don't even get me started on the stereotypes. Plus women are more likely to be studied for comorbid disorders than psychologists even considering ASPD. This is the same shit autistic women struggled with.

There's a massive underreporting in the female ASPD populace because of this, and a lot more masking going on because everything gets chalked up to "she's just a bitch" or "hormones". There's also just not enough research done on females with ASPD to understand how it may be different from a male with ASPD.

I'm tired. I've been fighting for a year to get people to recognize me as an individual who deals with ASPD. Every time I run into threats of being abandoned (which is horrible, considering I was abused and then abandoned by my biological mom, then put in foster care for the next 4 years), or the road block of "You're a woman. Are you sure you don't have BPD? That's the female disorder." Or just getting tired of the uphill slope. I only have so much stamina, and sure I have a lot of spite for the world, but eventually that's going to run out too. And then I'll probably kill myself.

The suicide rate in general is less than 2%.

The suicide rate for people with ASPD is 23%.

#actually aspd #disability #invisible disability #mental health #mental illness #antisocial personality disorder #alex talks #sociopathy/psychopathy #alex lore #disability pride month #disability awareness #aspd awareness #aspd safe #cluster b safe #cluster b disorders #psychology #cw mental health

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emberfrostlovesloki · 1 month ago

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Criminal Minds October Prompt List - whump

Banner by @theshyshewolf

Good evening loves! We made it to October! This is a big deal for me because it marks me being back on Tumblr for a whole year writing for Criminal Minds. Also, very exciting because October means WHUMP, which is my favorite type of fic to write! This prompt list is inspired by the always amazing, @imagining-in-the-margins, who always make the best prompt lists. I won’t write for all of my prompts, but I might for a few. For obvious reasons the theme for this list is whump; however, I’m not a huge no-happy-ending type person, so if you want to take a prompt and give it a happy ending instead of a tragic one, you have my full approval. After all, this list is just to inspire a thought or idea.

The rules for using these prompts are that there are no rules! You could use any Criminal Minds characters, OCs, reader inserts, etc. You could draw, write, make mood boards, or imagine anything else. I have included 30 prompts for each day of the month. I also added some character/episode-specific prompts too. If any of these prompts inspire you to create, I’d love to be tagged to see what you have made. This is all just for fun. I wish everyone a great start to the month. Please know I’m proud of you wherever you are right now - Love Levi ❤️

You can find all the prompts below the cut [also, please read the tags to avoid any triggering content in the prompts.]

General Prompts

Character A tells character B they are no longer in love with them.

Character A dies from their injuries on a case and makes a last confession to character B.

Character A is forced to kill Character B due to the case/revenge etc.

Character A wants to apologize to Character B, but they don’t get the chance.

Character A suffers from an ED and gets hospitalized for it, risking their job.

A case where one of the team gets psychologically tortured.

A member of the team gets partially/fully paralyzed.

Character A loses a pet they have had since childhood.

Character A’s home/apartment gets targeted and is burned down. They end up losing everything important to them.

Character A goes on a date and ends up humiliated (Character B comforts them after.)

Character A who has claustrophobia ends up buried alive.

Someone close to Character A becomes financially ruined, so Character A has to give up much of their savings putting them in a hard place.

Character A has decided to adopt, but at the last minute, the birth mother decides to keep the child.

Fic related to child/pregnancy loss.

Character A falls into drug psychosis and relives the worst day of their life over and over again.

Character A repeatedly dreams of Character B dying and one day it happens like they had dreamed.

Character A is in the park when a dog comes up to them, Character B is running around looking for their lost dog when they find their dog with a pretty stranger.

Character A who has hemophobia gets stabbed and has to deal with the wounds while waiting for help.

Fic with a clown killer/fear of clowns.

Character A realizes their patriotism was all misplaced and they’d been living a lie.

A therapist unsub takes on a BAU member as a client and slowly starts tormenting them about their choices.

Character A comes out to their friends/family and they face backlash (but they find their chosen family in the end.)

Characters A realizes that they are starting to think more and more like an unsub.

Character A has been working on a year-long project, but a rival ends up ruining it the day before it is due.

Due to a misunderstanding, a child goes “no contact” with their parent, Character A.

Character A has a nervous tick and is rudely told to stop doing it in the office/precinct/school.

Character A has trichotillomania and worries about what people will think about their hair loss.

Character A fails an important test, putting their degree/career/goals another year away.

Somedays for Character A life just doesn’t feel worth continuing.

Character A realizes their hero, Character B is a terrible person.

Sad/scary Halloween fic.

Character Specific Prompts

Hotch: S5 E9 100 - Aaron dies instead of Haley

Spencer: S2 E15 Revelations - JJ gets captured by Tobias instead of Reid

Penelope: S3 E9 Penelope - Garcia ends up not making it to the hospital

Emily S6 E 18 Lauren - After the trauma she’s been through Emily decides she can’t keep working at the BAU and has to tell Hotch.

Derek: S2 E15 Revelations - Spencer ends up dying and Derek finds his body.

Rossi: Describe a time that Rossi found out one of his ex-wives/wives have passed Away.

List of Phobias for Inspo (some of these could be for CM kids).

Acrophobia

Astraphobia

Nyctophobia

Phasmaphobia

Lockiophobia

Erotophobia

CM whump Mood board below

Text Break Banner (above) @cafekitsune

Photo Credits

Top: Left (@anjukaji) Center (@kathrynmh) Right (@anjukaji)

Middle: Left (@rsier) Center (@leftoverenvy) Right (@d-iorpjm)

Bottom: Left (@anjukaji) Center (@reidgif) Right (@anjukaji)

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syoounn · 6 months ago

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Hello i love your work!

I was wondering if you could possibly write in a short fic style maybe Chuuya, Kunikida, and Akutagawa with a reader that has trichotillomania? Specifically the reader that pulls out their lashes and brows?

Im pretty insecure about that and i would love to read something like that :) would very much appreciate it if you wrote something like that :)

•Reader with a Trichotillomania.

•Characters: Chuuya, Akutagawa, Kunikida

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Chuuya

After Chuuya got home.. he was ready to see you and cuddle with you. Seeing you doing it again, Chuuya shifted a bit in bed before laying next to you and placing you in his arms. With his hands, he began playing with your hair, seemingly trying to get your attention. “Hey, look at me.” He gave you a gentle squeeze, looking directly into your eyes. He wanted to comfort you and make you feel loved, especially looking at your beautiful eyes. “I love you. It may not be in my nature to think about other people’s feelings, but that’s the truth. You’re the only person I think about. You keep me grounded.” His voice became more gentle as he spoke. He was well aware of your insecurities, but he believed you always had it in you to overcome these obstacles. Of course, his words were never enough. He had some idea of how to really relieve you of your problems, but he’d only be able to share it with you when you were ready to let him. “My precious little Doll…” He mumbled affectionately, stroking back your hair and bringing his lips down to your forehead. Chuuya, comfort you when you lose control of yourself, not judging you for your faults. Instead he’d pull you closer to him, wrapping his arms around your waist, holding you tightly against himself. He continued to speak and comforting you “It’s okay, darling… I know you can’t control it, and I do think it’s very unfortunate, but I’m not going to hate you for it. I hate the fact that you hurt yourself and have a negative mindset about yourself… You don’t need to apologize for something about yourself you can’t control.” You then relaxed to his words and hugged him as both of you embraced both your warmth tonight.

Akutagawa

Both of you were watching TV in the living room he noticed you weren't really paying attention to the TV. He let out a quick sigh and gently grabbed your hands to stop you doing it. "Are you okay?..." he asked as he tried to be gentle as he could be.. he wanted to comfort you even though sometimes he struggled to give comfort. "I'm alright.." You said, not wanting him to worry. Therefore, that didn't stop. He clearly can see that you were not, as he sighs and wrapped his arms around you, giving you some comfort since he's Akutagawa is not that the best on words. He was slightly upset that you were not being truthful to him. "I'm not stupid, I know that you're not fine, and I don't like when you lie to me." "I'm sorry.." You replied. Akutagawa sighed as he kept looking at you. The anger he had felt was disappearing. His grip on you grew a bit more gentle. "I'm also sorry, I didn't mean to sound aggressive, I just really want you to be honest with me." He said, his tone and expression was softer and seemed to have more care in his words. Akutagawa stayed in silence for a moment. He knew this was a really sensitive subject for you. He wasn't going to push you to explain much about it, but he was still concerned. "Is there anything I can do to help you?" He asked in a soft voice, making sure not to sound judgmental or critical. Feeling the way he cares for you and wanting to do something for you makes you feel appreciated and went completely calm. As you hugged him back and relaxed to his embrace, smiling. "I'm fine now.." You said softy. Akutagawa smiled slightly at the reply. He liked that you hugged him back. It had made him feel happy. He squeezed you in another hug and looking at your eyes as he was looking at the most beautiful thing he ever seen, not wanting to let you go. "Okay then, we should just enjoy the movie now." He said, still hugging you as tight as he could. Both of you enjoyed your time as it makes you forget all of your problems just because you're with him.

Kunikida

Kunikida came home, usually having a grumpy face, seeing you changed into a small smile without hesitation.. he approached you. "Your symptoms are acting up again, aren't you.." Kunikida said with a worried look on his face. Kunikida looked very worried about you as he reached out and took your hands. He looked directly at your eyes "Look, I know this is extremely difficult for you." He paused and cleared his throat You have to be strong. I know you can overcome this. I'm with you, always, and I'll always love you no matter what. Kunikida said, his voice soft and reassuring. He then gestures you to sit back and get your medication and some tea to make you feel better. He writes down and does his best to support you... always reminding you things and always reassuring you. Even though sometimes he can be straightforward, deep down, you know he truly only wants you to live comfortably. He turned around and headed toward the kitchen. His footsteps were heavy and firm. After a few minutes, he returned and handed you the tea. "Here, drink this. It should relax your nerves and calm you down. That should help." He smiled as he saw you become more relaxed. He watched you take a few more sips of the tea before he spoke "That's good. It'll help.. and you should not forget to take your medication Y/N.." Kunikida said as he walked over and sat on the side of the bed as you lay down. He moved so he could cradle you with your head resting against his shoulder. He looks at your sleepy eyes.. as he always adores, he can't help but smile, and he always admires your beauty by looking at your eyes softly.

Your hair felt soft and pleasant against his skin. He caressed your hair gently. And now.. you were relaxed and peacefully sleeping. Knowing he's beside you makes you feel more calm and loved. Kunikida is such a strict but lovable caring lover.

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(I hope you like it! I love your drawings, btw :3)

#bsd x reader #bsd x gender neutral reader #bsd x you #bsd x y/n #bsd fluff #chuuya x reader #akutagawa x reader #kunikida x reader

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shirefantasies · 8 months ago

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Hello! I'm sick and on a major Hobbit/LotR kick. I found your blog and I'm in love with your writing! If possible, could I request something like how Thorin's company (specifically Kili, but can add others) would react upon discovering reader has Trichotillomania (anxiety-induced hair plucking disorder)? I know it sounds kinda stupid, but it just popped into my head.

-🦅

Not stupid at all! Pulling at/out my hair if I’m anxious or have no fidgets is kind of something I do and tend to have characterized as a “bad habit” so I so get this! But our hair is precious as our lovely dwarves will remind us 😌 hopefully this is accurate, I included feelings I have when I’ve had anxiety/panic attacks, too, & just got carried away with some of them! If this is not a good representation, my apologies in advance love 🙏🏻

Trichotillomania- Thorin’s Company x Reader

Balin

“If ever you wish to talk, I hope you know this old dwarf’s ears still work.” Eyes widening, then narrowing as they looked up at Balin standing there the sunshine, you found yourself nodding and wringing at the ends of your sleeves. “Thank you,” you replied, “but why all of a sudden?” “I can tell you’ve been under some stress, and I can’t pretend I don’t understand. But ‘tis always better to talk about it than take it out on ourselves. Or each other, but I can’t foresee that being a problem with you,” the older dwarf winked. “No,” you chuckled, shaking your head, “I have no plans to start a fight. It may sound silly to you, what I have to say.” “Please,” Balin waved a hand, smiling lightly. You loved the way he always said ‘laddie’ or ‘lassie’. “I grew up with Dwalin and then the princes running around underfoot for how many years? Daresay I’m an expert at the inane by now.” “In that case, I’ll think of it as some free entertainment for you,” you joked back.

Dwalin

“Have you ever considered shaving it all off?” Frowning, you drop your hands and swivel to face the bald dwarf. You hadn’t exactly expected anyone to catch you having a panic attack in the woods, let alone cut through it with sarcasm. Body freezing, you wracked your brain for a response. Dwalin, it seemed, perceived that, changed his tone. “‘m not makin’ fun of you. Might feel good if y’ don’t mind looking like me. Ever you want to, just say the word and I can help.” Rough as his words were, you could sense the care behind them. Would it feel better to be rid of your compulsions completely, to have a fresh start? Whether you truly considered it or not, well aware were you how meaningful a suggestion it was by the warrior. “You say that as though looking like you is an insult,” you simply replied and gave him a nudge.

Thorin

Joint discovery. That is the word you would use to describe the night. Thorin had jolted awake suddenly, taking deep, panting breaths you could see heaving beneath his bedroll as you sat on watch duty, shock, concern, and anxiety increasing your own reactions. Coming to, the king-to-be took in the sight of you, sighed at the familiarity, thought better of it as his brows knitted. “Did you just have a nightmare?” You asked, and all but simultaneously Thorin said he saw the way your hands wrung your head. “Quite a bad habit,” you replied sheepishly, “but you really should go back to sleep.” “I think I would prefer to stay awake for a time, if that is alright,” Thorin responded, sitting up and brushing some long black hair off his shoulder. “Of course,” you told him, surprised but smiling at the way he shuffled to sit at your side. Tentatively you reached out a hand. “May I?” The king gave a silent nod, prompting you to gently rub his back, content at the new, more soothing occupation of your hand.

Oin

It all started when Oin was given bedroll duty, taking up all the members’ nighttime dwellings to carry once more. Upon yours, he could not help noticing, was a mass of hair, an unusual amount even for a race so conscious of its shedding. Approaching you, he asked if you’d not been feeling well, perhaps wanted to try an oil to care for your hair with or an herbal supplement to bring your strength back. Eyes shining at his generosity, you break down and admit your nervous habit, the way your hands go to your hair especially in the dark of night when all seems lost. From then on he appoints himself your personal hair carer, even teaches you new ways to style it that might keep it more safely out of the way. His hands work so gently over your hair, undoing the irritation and pain it had endured for so long and bringing a soft smile of contentment to your lips.

Gloin

Heavy breaths mingle with your own, prompting you to snap briefly enough from your reverie to register the dwarf running toward you with great stomping steps. Jumping a bit, you find yourself goggling at Gloin, who rests his hands on his knees and heaves a few more times before addressing you. “Now what’s brought this on? Can’t have you hurting yourself.” ‘Hurting yourself’ was never a consideration you’d made, but you supposed your hair was less precious to you than it was to the rest of your companyman. “You- you weren’t supposed to see that,” you told Gloin, folding your hands in your lap. At that, though, the auburn-haired dwarf waved a hand. “Nothing to be ashamed of. If it’s botherin’ you up there, why don’t you try one of these?” Any of the dwarves reaching into their pockets worried you a bit, but your mind races for his brief rummage until he produces a small article that looks somewhere between a cap and a bonnet. “Keep it safe up there. And if ya need something to do, why, come play a few rounds with my brother and I! That’ll keep your hands moving so fast you’ll forget you have ‘em!” “Hands or worries?” You laugh shakily. Luckily, Gloin gives a huge laugh at your awkward joke, patting you on the back. “Both if we’re lucky!”

Bifur

Far gentler about it than one might expect from him. He knows what it is like to have trauma, though, to have PTSD even if he doesn’t have that word for it. Thus he can read the signs of anxiety from a league off and tends to shuffle to your side during those moments. He knows his way of communication draws focus, attention, so as he sees you tugging at your hair he begins to sign questions. Simple questions, but ones you must then answer. “What is your name?” You tell him. “What is your name?” He signs again. Even through the spikes of overwhelming weight, the way the world closes in on you, you find yourself trying to remember how to sign your name if you know it, indicate you can’t if you don’t. Nodding, Bifur keeps this method going, cutting slowly but surely into the spiral and even telling you at the end of it that you are precious…all of you.

Bofur

“Hey, hey, whoa, what’s all this, huh?” Starting, you see Bofur appraching you, clearly having caught you ripping at your hair. Before you can respond his gloved hands fall over yours, removing them gently. “Feeling a mite stressed?” World still pressing in on you, you just nod, and Bofur’s hazel eyes soften. “Well, I don’t much are for seeing ya hurt yerself. Tell ye what: why don’t we try this instead?” Sitting up straighter, you peer up at the dwarf to see him unwinding his scarf and draping it over your shoulders. “Next time you don’t feel good, try playin’ with this instead. I like to mess with the little fringe on the end myself.” Fingers thoughtfully caressing the dangling edges, you smile as the scent of him rushes to you, grounding you that much more. “Are you sure?” “Positive,” he nods, patting your shoulder, “it’s all yours. Then again, I daresay it’s long enough for the both of us.” He winks and you grin all the way this time.

Bombur

“You get served first tonight,” Bombur tells you one evening, nodding to the carven bowl in your hand. “Me,” you ask, “why?” “Can tell you’ve been having a bad day is all,” the fiery-haired dwarf replied as he plucked the vessel from your hand, “and if you aren’t feelin’ well, well, extra to you!” Did he think you were sick? “This is just something that happens to me, though,” you told him, “it is not new." "Well," Bombur filled your bowl up high as he could, "more nourishment for that pretty hair of yours, and tell you what- next time you feel like pullin' it out, how's about asking for a hug instead?" Pausing, you accepted the warm wood he handed you. "You feel no shame at that?" "No," he replied, voice quietened, "I will only feel lucky." "As will I," you told him with a smile, knowing how Bombur gave the company's greatest and warmest hugs.

Dori

Dori, you knew, had the habit of hovering over his brothers, whether it was keeping them from their squabbles or ensuring they would not be catching cold, but you were hardly used to receiving such attention the day he sat at your side, insisting you share a cup of tea with him. Gently setting the steaming cup in your hands, the eldest Ri brother started asking you questions about how you were feeling, if the company treated you well. Sharing some stories and laughs about the others first, you finally asked him what this tea was all about. Well, in the most literal sense, Dori told you it was a calming blend with a bit of something Oin said helped hair grow and even a small dash of sugar he was able to scrounge up! Beyond that, well… “You don’t take care of yourself,” he replies, your name heavy but sweet upon his lips, “so I thought I could do it for you. I’m used to that, you know. Your hair is beautiful as your smile, so I suppose I wanted to protect both. Sorry if that’s silly.” Letting your head fall on his shoulder, you cupped your warm tea a bit tighter, tears welling in your eyes. “Not at all, Dori. Not at all.”

Nori

“Have you been itchin’?” Nori asks you one night, sending your gaze rapidly swiveling his way. “I beg your pardon?” “Couldn’t help but notice the way your hair is botherin' you," he replies with a shrug as he passes your bowl. Accepting your nightly meal, you sigh. "No, it isn't that, I... I get anxious. Don't know why I do it, but I can't help it." "No?" Nori pauses before his signature smirk returns. "But I can!" "Huh?" Dropping your spoon back into the stew incredulously, you turn your attention his way once more. "What do you mean?" "Simple. Just tell me when you get worried. If you like the feeling of something touchin' you, well I think I have that covered." Your eyebrows shoot up at that, raising a bark of laughter from the dwarf. "Whatcha getting in that pretty head of yours? Thought I might hold your hands, put an arm around ya."

Ori

“I made you this.” Ori holds out a knitted bear to you, smiling sheepishly through your zoning stare at the fire. Giving him your full attention, you break into a smile, clutching your gift close as you ask him what it is for. “Well,” the young dwarf rubs at the back of his neck, “I wasn’t trying to see, but, well, I did, so…” “What are you talking about?” Your brows furrow. “I noticed the way you pull out your hair when you get stressed and I thought it might hurt,” Ori replies, voice quiet, “so I made you something you can squeeze instead. It’s alright. He can’t feel the pain. Not like you can.” Tears well up in your eyes; misunderstanding, Ori takes a step back only for you to catch his hand, holding it tight and looking him in the eyes. “Thank you for seeing me. Truly.”

Fili

“You call that a bad habit? Why, you should see what half of this company’s gotten up to in their lifetimes! The sheer number of things they’ve snuck on this very trip,” Fili said with a smirk. A wave of nerves crashed over you, falling into a defensive cross of your arms. “Well, I’m sorry I’m too much of an anxious wreck to be exciting,” you bit out, turning away from him only to feel a hand on your shoulder. “Wait,” Fili breathed your name, “that came out wrong. All I meant is these rapscallions are the ones who have anything to be ashamed of. I’m sorry you have to deal with all that. Please let me make it up to you.” His blue eyes bore into yours, softening earnestly enough to earn him a nod from you. “Alright,” you agreed, “I understand. You were just trying to keep things light, we’ve all done it. What did you have in mind, then?” “Next time you feel nervous, think of me as your personal doll!” “I beg your pardon?” “How many years have I had this hairstyle? More than I can count! Let’s let some good come from those idle hands,” the blonde urged you with a smile, “and play around with each other’s hair instead. What say you?” Blast it- as if if you could ever resist that grin!

Kili

Frantic motions of your hands are interrupted by a softer touch, hands gently running over your scalp. “Care to talk or would you rather just sit?” Kili’s voice, a sound that rarely fails to bring a smile to your face, echoes behind you as he lowers your now-joined forms into a seated position upon an abandoned bedroll. The arm not reaching to your head, seemingly unashamed of the damage you’ve done that sometimes fuels your spirals, is wrapped firmly around your shoulders from the front to hold you against his chest. “I don’t mind either way as long as I’ve got you here.” “Then let us enjoy the silence,” you request quietly, internally fighting the part of you that struggles to accept the blessings you are given. “For as long as this lot’ll let us,” Kili snorts, but with that he presses a kiss to your forehead and continues holding you, fingers shifting to grab one of your hands as he soothes the itching patch of hair you’d been reaching for.

Bilbo

“Oh. Oh, dear, what’s the matter there?” He isn’t trying to make things worse and in fact he’ll get quite apologetic, but the hobbit has never seen such behavior so it raises legitimate, innocently blunt question. The shame, though, does not ease your spike of anxiety, leaving your hands shake with the pressure of both your trigger, your impulse, and the fight of it for fear of Bilbo’s judgment. Suddenly his hand is upon your shoulder. “It’s…a lot, isn’t it? I understand. Typically my go-to is to faint, but I can see why this lot would have you wanting to pull your hair out!” Weakly he swings his arm, clearly trying to joke you out of your state. Your brows furrow, such an unexpected reaction jarring some breaths back into your lungs. You are surprised again when Bilbo takes your hands. “You’re shaking…here, lie back a little, let’s talk, all right?” He listens, apologizes frantically for his ignorant comments, holds your hands still, running a thumb over the back of them.

Taglist: @lokilover476 @fuckyoumakeart @mossthebogwitch @kilibaggins @ibabblealot @joonies-word @stormchaser819 | Reply/Ask/Message to join!

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ideasarestuckinmyhead · 3 months ago

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Trichotillomania Reader HC's

Charlie, Finn and Auron with a reader with trichotillomania (urge to pull out body hair)

TW(?): Is pulling hair a trigger warning? Idk but ima just pit that for just incase type beat.

Also if I do ever mess up on topics like these please tell me!

Charlie

He knew you had it when younger, when it was stronger. So he knows a few of your triggers and how to help you stop pulling hair

Charlie makes sure to have some type of de-stress toy to help you not pull your hair.

Charlie tries and look up different things that could help you.

Like not trying to bring too much attention that your pulling your hair.

He'll just ask if something happened, then help you figure out or fix anything that happened.

Charlie makes a bracelet for you to pull on if you have the urge to yank on any hair.

Finn

Gently taking your hand if he sees you slowly going to pull hair, starts talking about something to distract you from pulling hair.

If something happened Finn is there for you to rant and try giving solutions to them.

Finn tries giving you more trivia about flowers to keep you from being hyper focused on your hair

If you need to do things w ur hands Finn teaches you how to make bouquets with him

I feel like Finn would give you a necklace to fight with if he's not around to help you with your trichotillomania

Finn kinda is winging it with helping you bc he's trying to absorb information but also making sure not to be overbearing

Auron

Will make change the subject of whatever topic that will make you pull hair. Adding it to ur trigger list

Keeps a page of all triggers that will cause your trichotillomania kick in, even going far lengths to make the triggers go away.

Very observant so if he sees you even thinking about pulling your hair Auron is asking about your current favorite interests.

Will always reassure you that he will always help with triggers, Auron will also be very vocal if someone says something to you

If you want anything in particular to help de-stress Auron is already buying it or getting it to you

Auron is really good at giving you solutions if that's what's causing your trichotillomania to act out. He's sitting there going through everything to make it look less stressful

#red rants #yuurivoice #red answers #yuurivoice auron #yuurivoice finn #yuurivoice charlie #red writes #trichotillomania #trichotillomania reader

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babystrcandy · 1 year ago

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interlude | jjk

summary: Growing up you only had one goal: beat Jeon Jungkook. Sometimes you'd win, other times you'd lose. Sometimes he'd lose, other times he'd win. But you'd both walk away from the match thinking the other was the lucky one.

pairing: tlo!jungkook x fem!reader rating/genre: 18+ Minors DNI | sports au, fwb, fluff word count: 2.9K chapter summary: When Jungkook was little, he used to wish on shooting stars that he'd hear a bell when he met his soulmate. warnings/notes: this is part of my the lucky one jk series; it does not need to be read in order to understand the fic, it's just an extra pov from jk, no smut but i'm leaving this as 18+ because of the topics discussed, typos probably, explicit language, abuse of alcohol mentioned, your name references/inspo, descriptions of anxiety, depression, mental illness, trichotillomania (pulling out of hair: in this case eyelashes), just a lil look into jk's brain, i think that’s it but if i missed anything please let me know, i hope you enjoy, my loves <3

chapter four 1/2: interlude ( ← previous | next → )

BECOMING SOMEONE HAD NEVER truly been on Jeon Jungkook’s radar. He was born to two loving parents who adored each other as much as they loved him. They weren’t exactly poor or rich, they were just owners of another small restaurant on the streets of Busan, selling mostly chicken that young Jungkook would normally take to school for lunch when it wouldn’t sell.

That was supposed to be his legacy, and he was fine with that. He quite liked helping his mother in the kitchen and packaging the orders.

It wasn’t like they’d sat him down and told him he’d be forced to sell chicken all his life once he got older. No, actually, his mother had always told him to shoot for the stars. He could be anything he wanted as long as he was a good person at the end of the day.

And Jungkook had lived by that.

So becoming someone to him never meant becoming someone great . . . it just meant becoming someone kind.

Until he discovered badminton. You, his mother’s best friend’s daughter, and consequently his best friend since birth, also discovered badminton at the same time. And the both of you . . . the both of you discovered that badminton could be your chance at becoming someone . . . great.

You had taken quite a liking to this fact. You’d been the first to buy all the equipment and when Jungkook said he wasn’t that interested . . . you used all your saved-up birthday money to buy him equipment of his own. (You knew he was just lying anyway. You knew the Jeons didn’t have enough to buy Jungkook his very own racket . . . so you took matters into your own hands. He knew now that was the day he’d developed a crush on you. (A small, childhood crush of course, but still a crush he always remembered.)

He’d never wanted it as much as you, though, and he knew that. He used to think that he did. He used to think that making it to the Olympics would be a dream come true, but even now, after everything, he wasn’t sure if that had ever been true.

Jungkook had loved badminton . . . but he’d been gradually falling out of love with it for years now. But one small fact made it hard for him to admit this: he was good; no . . . he might have been one of the best.

He supposed that was why the little feud with you had started in the first place. He had never really cared about the sport, whereas you had always cared too much, and so his careless actions, yet ever so gracious, results managed to always get under your skin.

And of course, he’d find it funny, mostly because you scrunched your nose in this cute way when you were angry.

(He didn’t like to admit it, but he’d always used to challenge you just to show off to you. Now . . . not in a cruel way . . . but rather, he did it to try to impress you. Yeah . . . it had never really worked out in his favor.)

But he never really minded your attitude toward him. He knew the two of you were some weird kind of friends, and he liked that. He liked having you near him, just like he had liked having Taehyung and Jimin close.

He’d never really liked anyone else . . . (He didn’t realize why until later in life.)

So, yeah, there you had it . . . Jeon Jungkook had the chance to become someone great, but he’d never wanted to be that. He’d just wanted to be kind like his mother had wished him to be. But things didn’t work out that way; Life . . . didn’t work out that way, and in becoming someone great . . . he’d become something he wasn’t proud of.

And that was true . . .

. . . becoming someone had never been on Jeon Jungkook’s radar until he’d turned into someone he barely recognized; until he’d become a ghost of his old self. He hadn’t realized he’d been becoming this . . . person all his life; that it hadn’t started after the incident; that it’d started even when he was a kid.

Because you see, Jungkook had been pulling and plucking at his eyelashes since the sixth grade when he started developing his . . . issues. Like when he’d wake in the morning with his heart racing and his stomach churning, creating a nervous sickness deep inside of him all because he had to attend school. (He’d go all day with that feeling taking over his body. Eventually, he just kind of got used to always having this tight feeling constricting his lungs unless he pretended to fall ill and call his mother to come to pick him up from school.) Or when he’d be left with no choice other than to talk to his peers because that's what you're supposed to do when you're growing up: make friends.

And he’d hide this by putting on a personality. He’d make himself big, loud, and unmissable so no one could ever make him feel small. He’d make fun of himself, make himself seem more approachable, more well-rounded, and less easy to offend. Because if he made himself seem stupid; if he made himself seem laid back . . . no one would think to judge him.

Of course, that didn’t always work. Sometimes people became too comfortable with him. Sometimes so comfortable they’d say things about him to his face, thinking he wouldn’t mind. And while he did make it seem like he didn’t care . . . he did, and hearing those things from people he called friends made him wonder if anyone actually liked him.

That only made him feel more alone.

So he had friends, yes, but none of them ever really knew him because . . . well . . . that had always made him . . . freak out.

And the thing they don't tell you about anxiety: there is no give and take; it just takes and takes and takes.

. . .

He used to think once he got older, these nerves would die down, but he just became scared of new things. He knew how to hide his nerves more now, but storming off toward a bar or disappearing for days on end only worked so much. No matter what he’d always find himself right back at square one . . . He’d sit down by himself, pulling at the ends of his eyelashes because it'd be the only thing he knew that would calm him down.

The funny thing about that was the fact that he used to get compliments about how long his eyelashes were when he was younger (mostly from his mother, followed by her pinching his cheeks but you know . . . ). He didn't even notice just how quickly these compliments stopped once his strange little addiction kicked in. Now in their place were broken lashes and small gaps at the tails of his eyes.

Until the small anxiety tic grew into something so much more . . .

Even as he grew, he never truly learned how to deal with the tight feeling in his chest that would consume him when he got even slightly overwhelmed, and that seemingly small habit never left his side. Like some sick vice, the urge to pluck and pull and pick at his body, at his chapped lips, at his eyelashes, and even the tails of his eyebrows, never went away. They only got worse.

It wasn't until the incident that his strange habit developed into something more gruesome. And this new habit he had developed couldn't be hidden with a silly little white lie. No, this he couldn't hide, because of the simple fact that there was no way he could make things right with his friends, with his teammates, with Tae or even himself. There was no way he could hide just how badly he wished he could take Tae’s place. There was no way anyone could look at him the same again, especially as his tiny habits turned into day-long benders filled with booze and drunk walks back to the dorm. He couldn’t hide the smell of alcohol on his breath no matter how many times he scrubbed at his teeth.

The feeling of numbing everything; of just being able to forget . . . would still stick, and the urge to do it again and again and again would remain because that was the thing about anxiety: it only knew how to take and take and take.

He’d tried to stop a few times before it got worse. He’d tried to quiet the urge and just let it be . . . but he never could, not when he was reminded of what he had done every day.

And the thing was: Jungkook knew he never truly believed he would stop. He had wanted to. Trust him, he wanted to believe that he had actually been getting better, that he wouldn't need the booze and the euphoria which came from numbing the pain inside him. But he always knew he’d give in. He knew his memories would seep back in. They always had.

The past had a way of sneaking up on Jeon Jungkook, and his anxiety only fed on it.

He’d thought he’d left everything behind him. He thought he could live in this sick limbo, forever dotting the line between madness and numbness. Truly, he really thought he could, and he almost did.

Until he saw you again.

He remembered he had walked into that bar all those months again, expecting nothing but another drink in his hand, but there you were, a scowl on your face and a furrowed brow. And suddenly, it was as if he had been transported three years back.

The past was looking him right in the face, and he couldn’t cross it out. He couldn’t put an X on your face and pretend not to know you. He couldn’t pretend to not remember. He couldn’t erase those years. He couldn't erase you.

So he sat down right in front of you, and then he saw it. He’d seen how nervous you had been, trying to make yourself blend in with the group. He’d seen just how different you had become in just three years. And then he saw you bite your fingernails, taking note of the dried blood.

You had an anxious tic, too.

And he wondered if you understood how all this felt.

He wished he could say what his plan was after that, but truth be told: he had no idea. He just remembered touching your hand once and he couldn’t stay away. He supposed a part of him . . . perhaps the part of him stuck in the past couldn’t let a part of you go. And, sure, he wasn’t sure what that all meant but it did mean something . . . and he trusted it.

He still trusted that gut feeling as he brought a hand up to his eyes, rubbing them to clear the sleep from the corners. Dropping his hand, he finally took the time to focus his eyesight, squinting in the dark as he turned his head to the side, finding none other than you sound asleep with your mouth slightly agape as you snored softly.

Then . . . you let one loud snore out, and he couldn’t help it: his grin grew so wide, his eyes crinkling as he silently laughed.

You were a snorer. A loud one at that.

This was something he’d keep to himself.

You’d never admit it if he told you. So he’d keep this to himself. It was something he knew about you that would stay a secret, and that in itself had him attempting to reach for you, but he found that your hand was already clutched tightly around his thumb, stopping him from moving entirely.

With a small smile on his face, he gently pulled the hand wrapped around his thumb, slowly moving you into his arms. Luckily, you were a heavy sleeper, so when he’d finally tucked you into his chest, his chin resting on the crown of your head, you were still snoring into his skin without even stirring in the slightest.

And finally, he could breathe a sigh of relief.

But for what? he still pondered.

And then it hit him.

He’d recognized that look on your face, the nail-biting, your demeanor . . . He recognized it because he knew it well. That look, those feelings, the habits . . . he’d borne those, too. He still did.

Perhaps he had issues with letting the past go. Or perhaps he felt a sense of familiarity with you.

Or maybe he believed in you more than he believed in himself.

And then it clicked.

Jungkook wasn’t exactly a fan of parties. In college, he’d attend them for the sake of his team, perhaps even help throw them, but he’d always find himself standing near Taehyung or Jimin, trying to pass the time before he could crawl into his bed. So . . . when his social battery would drain out . . . Jungkook liked to watch movies.

All kinds of movies . . . sometimes shows. He liked anime and dramas. Hated Pulp Fiction and most sitcoms (mostly because he thought they were trying too hard to be funny half the time). But he didn’t mind romance movies. In fact, he preferred to watch them. He didn’t really find the point in watching something if there wasn’t at least one well-written romance.

He loved love, although it had never really worked out for him, but he still believed in it. His parents had shown him that.

Call him a hopeless romantic, he didn’t care. That was what he was.

He liked thinking that everything would work out the way it was supposed to. It made his anxiety subside enough to let him breathe, although most days he lost sight of that. Most days he lost sight of everything.

But . . . he never truly lost sight of you . . .

Anyway . . .

One of his favorite go-to movies when things would get . . . too much . . . as a kid was Your Name. He loved the art, he loved the plot, the characters . . . everything. He loved the fact that despite it all, a soul connection would always be a soul connection.

When he was little he’d even wished upon shooting stars that he’d hear bells when he found his soulmate. But no bells ever rang, and Jungkook grew up. He realized no bells would ever ring, and that was OK. (He still had just an ounce of hope . . . not that he’d admit that.)

Now . . . OK . . . maybe he was going a little overboard. He’d realized now that perhaps soulmates didn’t exactly exist. Maybe two people just happen to find each other and fit into each other, but where was the fun in that? (Fine, he was getting off track. Fine.))

Soulmates didn’t have to exist. Jungkook could admit that.

But every once in a while, two people find each other and maybe no bells ring and there’s no red string tying them together . . . but . . . they meet and everything else doesn’t seem that scary as long as that person is standing beside them. Maybe that was Jungkook’s fucked up version of love, but he believed in that. Maybe it wasn’t exactly what you’d call fate . . . but it was . . . something . . .

And for a second, as he toyed with your hair, he wondered if you believed in soulmates. That only made him grin, because of course not! You didn’t believe in soulmates, he knew that.

You believed in people.

You believed in . . . him . . .

Jungkook slowly blinked. He knew that now.

He wasn’t exactly sure what that all meant . . . but . . . but you’d sat there and you’d listened to everything that had happened to him . . . and you’d understood. You’d understood him and you’d looked him right in the eyes and told him he wasn’t alone. And fuck . . . he’d believed you.

Maybe it would take a lot longer for him to accept everything you had said, but he did know one thing: you would be there.

And he . . . he wanted to be there for you.

He felt . . . that.

He felt it all.

At the time, he had wondered what he should call this feeling. He’d almost forced himself to stay up half the night with you snoring in his arms while he tried to find the right word, desperately mauling over countless explanations after explanations . . . until . . . well . . .

As Jungkook closed his eyes, squeezing you a little tighter, and breathing in your scent, he realized what he had been trying to ignore ever since he saw you again at the bar all those months ago. He realized why it had always been your opinion that mattered to him the most; why he didn't mind putting on matching froggy headbands with you and doing face masks while just letting the world . . . be; why he could never forget you; why he’d always searched for you in everything . . . even in how he’d dress. He realized why it had always been you; why he would always choose you no matter what over and over again.

And then he realized why that all occurred.

Jungkook loved you.

Wait—

Fuck!

He loved you. He loved you. Holy fuck, he fucking loved you! And fucking hell, he was sure he always had.

He realized this wasn’t just a feeling. There were no bells, and no bells were needed. He couldn’t find a red string tying the two of you together, and he didn’t care to search. He knew this wasn’t just a feeling. No, it was . . . love.

And for a second time that night, he wondered what you believed in . . . and if it included him at all . . .

taglist:

@hrts4kook , @taehyungs-chopsticks , @loomipee , @st3ft0n3s , @callmenada , @neg-l3ct , @dawn33 , @illegurlbangtan , @jeonsdetails , @rihabaxl , @yoongipost , @jjk1iscoming , @miumiugurl , @sadgirlroo , @lucwithbangtan , @iamsisuu , @shanelleeex , @beonim , @sherlynxx , @fairy1919 , @purplewhales , @bloopkook , @ggukcanim , @bloodline1632 , @jungkooksseuphoria , @tea4sykes , @mugiwaraelly , @darkuni63 , @jalexad , @lpgirl2324 , @fairy-jaykay , @h0tvillainap0logist , @stuffy16 , @keniicastillo , @yoongukie-ff , @seesawe , @chocolatesublimesoul , @yopjm , @jeonlovescoffee , @xmirvamx , @jk-190811 , @percyjacksonlovesannabethchase , @vminkookgf , @werxyz , @tornparts , @aprilspring , @kswr1d , @jimilter , @02010802 , @sunsetnamjin , @lonekittycat , @moonchild1 , @hanamgi , @yoongslast , @heronstairsxd @pointofviewyugyeom

#jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #jungkook #jungkook au #jeon jungkook #bts #bts au #jungkook series #jungkook scenario #bts fic #bts x reader #kpop #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jeon jungkook x y/n #jungkook fluff #jeon jungkook fluff #bts jungkook

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thisisxli · 5 months ago

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【ꏂ꓄ꏂꋪꋊ꒐꓄ꌦ】

Rs: Ryōmen Sukuna x gen-neutral!reader

Warnings:

vein popping, bl0od, graphic,

trichotillomania, m^rder!,

r4pe, c4nnibal!sm, dark-themed,

self-harm, non-con elements,

ptsd, Sukuna is a psychopath,

Reader is losing their sanity

Summary: all is lost when a monstrous king comes to turn your life completely upside down.

wc: 0.5k

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　

Sukuna, who has you in his hold on his throne, traces his nail across your thigh, resting his cheek on his knuckles.

He had two faces, two pairs of arms, and almost a ferociously enormous build. Was he even human?

You hiccuped in his grasp, eye twitching when his nails pricked at your skin. One of your eye's sclera was nearly engulfed in red, the other veins in your eye almost as ready to burst any moment. Your eyes were wide with loss of hair around it, lower lids weighed down by your terrible purple bags.

Sukuna digs his nails into your thigh when your shoulder twitches.

How did you get here? Sukuna terrorized your village. Manslaughter. Rape. Cannibalism. You name it. It happened to be your family that he encountered in the village first, slaughtering every sibling you had and both your parents. He made sure their pain was agonizingly slow and long, making sure they were alive until the end. You had to watch it all. And for some reason, he didn't kill you. He kept you. It drove you mad. You were screaming, thrashing, ripping your hair out, foaming at the mouth.

That was when he clasped his hand around your throat to shut you up. Of course, he made sure he didn't kill you, but he wanted you to shut up. His hand left a mark on your neck for a week. His devoted servant had carried you to his palace. She was a girl, a little older. White hair and cold skin. But that didn't help anything because she had almost just as much blood on her hands as he did. Your voice broke out when both beings stared down at you with blood splattered across their clothes, their faces. Blood was everywhere.

He would call you 'his wife.'

This horrid being had the audacity. After all he's done to you? Terrorizing your village? Killing those you knew? You loved? Watching him eat them? Picking at your insides and stitching you back up together? Raping you until you couldn't scream anymore? Causing tremors and seizures all over your body? Causing all the damage done to your body? That wasn't all, oh no, it wasn't even close to the starting line.

You twitch again in his lap, fingers picking at the skin around your fingernails until it bled. He clicked his tongue, annoyed at your action. "Keep on doing that and you won't have any fingers left to do that."

You slowly start to laugh silently, almost maniacally. He watches you do so. You..

definitely would've much preferred.

He tilts his head, humming when he cups the side of your cheek to push, facing him. His lips twitch up in amusement when he sees your traumatized expression. He grins before crushing his lips against yours roughly, moaning when he feels your tears fall into his hands. This was your life now.

You were his and he was yours.

Your head lolls back, eyes rolled back, bloody tears escaping your eyes, his teeth making way into your chest.

For eternity.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　

A/N:

I love Sukuna guys don't get me wrong but realistically, he is not a softie or a lover. He is a hardcore murderer. It's the way someone can go through so much, their mind gets all messed up. I honestly feel bad for the reader, but I guess that's what happens when you cross paths with Sukuna, huh?

I'll most definitely consider a fluff with Sukuna tho.

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progressblog · 2 months ago

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An honest Confession and Update

Hello guys, I’m back again after another break. I have relapsed and I am not feeling top notch, or all good. So I have decided to share what I have been going through which I have never shared online. I have a mental disorder which recently relapsed, it’s called trichotillomania and in this I basically pull my hair from my scalp. I pull strands off of my scalp because it brings a relief which soothes me in return. It’s painful yes, after a big pull session I get a headache which lasts for hours and it’s often or almost always accompanied by extreme feeling of guilt, that why did I pull, why I cannot practise other coping mechanism and the fact that I am not ok and have relapsed and couldn’t keep up with life “again”.

I will not dig deeper into the history or the psychological understanding of the disorder in this blog but I will share where I’m at currently and what I’m seeking.

I relapsed because of 2 things I stopped taking my psychiatric meds regularly which later when I started pulling made me feel guilty which then caused me stress to pull even more uncontrollably. On 22nd and 23rd of September I had a full blown attack, I ended up vomiting, having extreme headache and increased body temperature to an extent. I have no local support per se because my parents aren’t living with me currently and even if they did all they could do was help with tasks but emotionally stay aloof as to what is happening to me and just tell me to stop my hair pulling habit. It’s not a habit it’s a coping mechanism and they don’t understand that and my mom thinks I fake my mental illness, that it’s just a bad habit I don’t want to get rid of so that i continue being on meds. My dad stays skeptical thinking what if I stay on meds forever which worries him. So basically I still lack support and understanding from my parents which only adds on to the stress I already have.

What I’m seeking is support, understanding and zero judgements and no hate, if you don’t understand what I’m going through feel free to ignore this post and pretend it never existed, if you have unsolicited advice to give feel free to keep scrolling. But everything else is welcomed. From now on I will include how I’m feeling mentally, psychologically, how was my day and what is my mood like besides what I already include which is a checklist of to do and done tasks.

If you have come this far and read what I wrote and want to understand this particular disorder more I will be linking something something for you to go through:

And at last I have a request to be sensitive towards this matter. That’s all. Thanks 💕

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thatoneluckybee · 1 year ago

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Tips for Writing Characters with Trichotillomania

- Someone with trichotillomania (hair-pulling disorder!)

I’m really glad that people are starting to realize that BFRBs actually exist! And with that, I’m happy that this means it’s not JUST me headcanoning characters to have BFRBS or CREATING characters with BFRBs. HOWEVER. With this, it is important that these disorders are represented well. I have trichotillomania myself, so here’s a list of things that I look for in characters and when making my own, and tips for accurately portraying a BFRB!

This is focusing on trichotillomania as I have it. I might make some on other BFRBs but I’ll have to do a lot of research and talk to people or read accounts of people WITH the specific BFRB. (I pull my hair and bite my nails, so I cannot about other BFRBs I don’t have off the top of my head.)

What IS a BFRB?

BFRB stands for “body-focused repetitive behavior.” BFRBs are a group of disorders listed in the DSM-5 under “Obsessive-Compulsive and RELATED Disorders.” BFRBs are NOT OCD. They are closely related, but are DIFFERENT things! A BFRB is defined by bfrb.org as a “repetitive self-grooming behavior…that can lead to physical damage to the body and have been met with multiple attempts to stop or decrease the behavior” and WebMD as “intense urges…that can cause damage.” (A BFRB is NOT the same as self-harm!!!!) In short, a BFRB is a behavior or habit that hurts you and is nearly impossible to stop or control. The easiest way I’ve found to describe it is like pressure. Next time you have an itch, try not to scratch it. It’s difficult! It feels like a pressure building up. Now, imagine that “itch” is really the INTENSE urge to pull out your hair, pick at your skin, bite at your lips, and the like. THAT is a BFRB.

What about Trichotillomania (or Trich)?

There are two main types of hair-pulling: FOCUSED and AUTOMATIC. Oftentimes, people’s trich does not neatly fit into one category. One trichster can engage in both (like me!) or it could depend on the location of the hair on your body. Focused means you are AWARE that you are pulling when you pull. AUTOMATIC means you are NOT AWARE that you are pulling.

Secondly, trichotillomania DOES NOT DISCRIMINATE. People can pull from ANYWHERE and EVERYWHERE. Oftentimes people who mention trichotillomania only consider pulling from your scalp. But we, as human beings, are mammals. There is hair everywhere. Other common places include eyebrows, eyelashes, the pubic region, underarms, arms, and legs. But if there is hair at ALL, trichotillomania can cause you to pull it. Some people have specific locations they pull from, and not EVERYONE pulls from EVERYWHERE! (For example, my scalp was never an issue until this past year, and I have had this BFRB for several years. It began with my lashes, then progressed to my legs and brows. I pretty much have trich for everywhere now. Yay.)

ONTO THE TIPS

For many, trich can be a self-soothing behavior. If a character has trichotillomania, they may gravitate towards their hair when they are startled or under stress, even if they are not pulling. An example of this could be a character running their fingers through their hair when anxious, or running their fingers over their eyebrows when frustrated.

A BFRB is not something to be ashamed of. However, there is a LOT of stigma around them. Many trichsters WILL attempt to hide their BFRB from people, especially strangers. Even the most kind-hearted, honest cinnamon roll may lie to a loved one about why their hair is thinning or why their arms are sore. Some common ways of this are wearing hats or styling one’s hair a certain way, wearing pants and long sleeves, or avoid hairdressers and doctors.

IT HURTS. There is often PHYSICAL PAIN that accompanies trichotillomania! What inspired me to write this post was quite literally me being grumpy because I was having to hold a towel to my arm because I dug too deep trying to get an ingrown hair and it bled more than expected. Pulling, especially if it’s from sensitive areas of your body like your nose, pubic region, fingers, feet, eyelashes, etc. where there are many nerves, can HURT. There will likely be red, bumpy skin. There may be blood. There may be scars.

There is going to be hair everywhere and yes it is annoying and no it’s not stopping anytime soon. Vacuums will clog. You will get hair stuck to the soles of your feet when you take off your socks. It’s gonna be everywhere.

Some people will chew on or eat the hair. This is known as trichophagia. I do not know much about trichophagia as I do not have it myself. However, I DO know that people with this can experience issues like stomachaches, indigestion, and the like. That’s okay. That’s normal.

You cannot love someone’s trichotillomania away. Please, please, please do not do this. You can help someone if they want it, you can love them, you can try, BUT THIS IS A DISORDER. It is NOT a choice. It is not something a character needs to “try more” with. I see a lot of posts under the trichotillomania tag here on Tumblr that are excerpts of fics. 99% of the time, it’s Person A forcibly stopping Person B from pulling and begging them to stop “for them.” I am not saying there is something inherently malicious about these! But someone cannot just stop “for you.” I’m sorry. It’s still a disorder. Please avoid the “stop for me!” trope if possible, or at the very least avoid this being the “cure-all” for a character’s BFRB.

These disorders are so widely misunderstood and underrepresented. There is a lot of misinformation. Please do not shy away from creating characters with a BFRB, in fact I highly encourage it! But pleasepleaseplease do some research beforehand and listen to people with these disorders. Good luck!

#writing #writblr #writing tips #fics #trichotillomania #bfrb #trichophagia #mental health #mental illness #tagging the following because trichotillomania and other BFRBs are often associated with/comorbid with these:#anxiety #ocd #adhd #autism #audhd

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inkwell-intermission · 3 months ago

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THIS IS AN OPINION PIECE

List of intermission characters that I personally do not believe would have their hair long OR should have other specific hair lengths/styles and why- note: This does not include characters i think would look better with short hair, this is just about characters I think would not have their hair long for personality/realistic reasons, NOT because I do not like the hair long, that's a different kind of list

1) Pickle Inspector does not have long hair Why: He's got really bad hygiene problems. He keeps his waste in glass jars in his office, is a serious alcoholic, substantially mentally ill and wildly dissociative day-to-day, this man could not take care of long hair. It would require a level of hair care or showering or brushing or even oiling that he is absolutely not up to. If he has long hair, I think it should NOT be pretty and silky, it would be an absolute disaster that would make a hairdresser call upon a higher power to fix 2) Die does not have long hair

Why: I personally headcanon Die as having trichotillomania so he pulls his hair a lot. Having long hair can trigger that more often, and would make the patterns of where he's pulled hair and has scars or destroyed follicles way more obvious. I don't think he moves through the world without a hat on in almost any situation and has entirely removed his eyelashes, his hairline is not making it out alive. I also think similar to Pickle Inspector, he has terrible hygiene because of how wildly anxious he is. He barely feels comfortable taking his coat off let alone all of his clothes to shower, and long hair would not be taken care of by him- it might be brushed, but it would probably be often filthy due to that kind of neglect and terror at the idea of even approaching a shower. 3) Diamonds Droog does not have long hair

Why: This man is so autistic he would just die. If he had his hair down and wind blew and hair got on his face he would kill someone. If he had hair long and was unable to perfectly catch every single hair in a hair tie he would kill someone. If too much hair came out in the shower he would get too fixated on whether or not he's losing hair because when you have long hair, losing the same amount of hair looks like a LOT more than when its short. Also someone could grab it or pull on it in a fight, which is also a problem. If he put a shirt or coat on and the long hair got caught under it he consider cutting it off entirely. As is, my version of Droog has more of a 3b-3c type of hair and keeps it cut very short, with touch-ups every two weeks. He likes going to a barber (male bonding homoeroticism) frequently but also after every haircut he needs to shower and change clothes because if he has stray hair on him he will die. He COULD NOT SURVIVE LONG HAIR (neither could most people within bludgeoning range).

4) Matchsticks would have a mustache

Why: Old timey firefighters in the 1800s who were working before filtration systems had mustaches because they helped to keep debris and particulates out of their noses! it was good and helpful to have and a lot of firefighters today still have them. He would not have a beard though because that could actively ruin the seal on any filtration helmets that he DID wear, so I think it's a good argument to give him a mustache! It's also dashing. NOTE: he COULD have long hair! He just would not wear it down in almost any situation for fire hazard concerns especially considering how constantly he's fighting fires- he wouldn't wear loose clothing, he might not even have coattails for that reason!

5) Cans would not have long hair

Why: I think because of his size and the dexterity and overall massive nature of his hands and arms he would feasibly have a difficult time dealing with long hair, whether its for brushing or styling. It would also be inconvenient to get a lot of plaster dust caught in if he's crashing through walls all the time, and if he got wet at the same time it could really ruin someone's hair. I think it's more practical and realistic for him to keep his hair, at least in the back, cropped fairly tight.

6) Doc Scratch would not have hair

Why: HES BALD i know people love to give the human versions of him like, slicked back white hair and I'm NOT saying that's not a design for him that absolutely works and makes sense but what I am saying is that it's a hairpiece. He is wearing a wig. He has no eyelashes or eyebrows that are not intentionally applied. This man has alopecia and is completely smooth and slick like an amphibian and dries incredibly quickly as a four foot tall hairless jackass.

7) THE GIRLS would not have long hair

Why: This one is the least fact based, but i think it still makes sense. I think Snowman, Dame, and Broad should keep their hair similar to what is seen on them, or otherwise short. This is mostly because of the 1920s-40s aesthetic fusion nightmare that is the vibes of the intermission- a lot of women wore their hair short, especially young fashionable women. If women had long hair, it may be worn close to the head to emulate a bob cut. Some had longer ringlets, but for the femme flapper energy of Dame and Broad, I think it fits that they would have shorter hair. For Snowman, I personally depict her as being completely bald and wearing a variety of incredibly expensive lace-front wigs. If they're carapacians, all of the ladies would be wearing wigs, but even as a human, I think Snowman keeps a fully or closely shaved head and has the most expensive collection of quality wigs known to Midnight City- if she even wears one at all. With Ms. Paint it's totally up in the air because she wears a bonnet or hijab or other kind of headwrap and can have whatever kind of hair she wants underneath that, girls rock.

literally every other character can easily have longer hair and it would make a level of sense even if i wouldn't personally give them longer hair, these are just the characters i think shouldn't have longer hair more on principle but AGAIN THIS IS AN OPINION I'M JUST SHARING MY THOUGHTS. IM NOT HAIR POLICE

#diamonds droog #pickle inspector #die six #matchsticks eleven #cans fifteen #homestuck intermission #midnight crew #sleuth team #loreposting #snowman eight #hysterical dame #nervous broad #ms. paint #this is not intended to police anyone elses depictions of them #this is just me going over my explanations and rationality behind certain design decisions #everyone can do what they want obviously .#innovator on the other hand can have longer hair bc the circumstances change when hes super medicated and a shapeshifter

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