#and the therapist also asked us to describe each other

[f1owermoon]

thinking abt the ways ive heard people describe me and going 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹💘💘💘💘💘🫶🫶🫶🫶

[gxlden-angels]

Hello! I apologize if this is a nosy question, but what is the silly feelings wheel app you were talking about in a previous post? My therapist and I have been working on identifying feelings but I still very much rely on a list of feeling words to have any idea what I’m feeling, so it could be a helpful resource. No worries if you don’t want to share, just thought I would ask :)

It's called How We Feel! I'm not sure if it's available on all devices yet, but it's on ios and the google play store for sure.

I've been using it for about a year. It's more of a chart than a wheel but people usually recognize the wheel better so that's what I call it. When you first start it has a 10-part tutorial about emotional acceptance and regulation, then it has suggestions for each category of emotion. You can access both at any time tho after those first 10 days.

It has a share option so you can have friends, which has been great for me cause it prompts me to check on friends and them to do the same for me. It allows you to just respond with a little emoji in like a "I'm here for you" little notification to your friend, or you can reach out to your friend on your own. Its really helped me cause I'm bad at reaching out when I need support so to me and I'm bad about taking on other's problems even when I can't handle it so being able to send a little emoji instead to make sure my friends know I'm there if they need me and them doing the same has been great

[awkwardarmadildo]

to add on to the humans are space orcs/earth is the universe's australia, sensing. my therapist has recently explained that its not normal the way i know who and where someone is by their footsteps. not just the sound, but the vibrations. if someone isnt purposely walking on light feet, i can tell who and where they are, even with headphones blaring. imagine a human on a ship and the awe-filled terror itd earn from their non-human crewmates.

edit: ive realized i wasnt clear enough in my intentions. im not saying "if you can tell peoples footsteps apart, youve been ✨️ T R A U M A T I Z E D ✨️ d-(^♡^)-b ". its about the inherent panic in Not hearing the steppies and therefore Not having the time to prepare yourself for whoever might be approaching and essentially being ambushed. also, being able to tell if someone is normalTM, happy, sad, et cetera. the combined terror of not being given time to make oneself "presentable" for whoevers coming, And Also whoever has just seemingly teleported is fucking pissed, which is never good. Anyways, enjoy!!! ＼(^o^)／

Gilith enters the library, searching for Human Raven. They seem to be found most often either here or in one of the many gardens on the ship. Human Alex said he'd likely find them here today.

Gilith pokes his head through the doorway, not seeing Human Raven, but before he can move on, a voice calls out from one of the high-backed chairs decorating the library.

"Hello Lithy, what do you need?"

Gilith sputters, "Wha- Human Raven, how did you know it was me?" Gilith makes his way over to the chair that held Human Raven in a twisted knot that, when Human Raven stood up, would surely leave a horrifying crunch Human Alex had likened to a human candy that exploded in one's mouth.

"You've got some loud stompers, Lithy."

"I do not know what that means, Human Raven."

Raven stands, causing Gilith to flinch at many snaps and crackles of their bones settling into place, and smiles up at his towering form.

"What did you need?"

Gilith notices more and more Human Raven's greetings. He thought maybe they could hear him coming, but they greeted him while wearing ear speakers, the volume so loud, Gilith could hear it from a few feet away.

Humans did not have psychic skills, and the only other human who seemed capable of a preemptive greeting was Human Alex. The two seemed to share all of their off-hours, so maybe that was where he could find his answers.

Gilith scoured the many gardens, stopping just outside of the doorway. He could hear Human Alex and Human Raven chattering to each other, but neither seemed to notice his presence.

In an attempt not to disturb them, he walked with what Human Bea had described as "tip-toes". A challenging feat, considering his round flat feet, but he managed.

Both Human Raven and Human Alex had their backs to him, so he coughed in the same way Human Bea often did to get everyone's attention.

The reaction he got was unexpected when both Human Raven and Human Alex flinched so hard their shoulders seemed to lock.

"My apologies! I didn't mean to startle you," he rushed over, but stopped short when they both flinched again. He recoiled his hand.

"It's ok, Lithy," Raven says, voice slightly choked. "Just give us a sec."

"Oh. Okay." Gilith turned his eyes down.

"What-" Alex started, his voice sounding as though it was rubbed raw. He cleared his throat and tried again. "What can we do for you, Gilith?"

"I did not have anything specific to talk to you about. I wanted to..." he trails off. "I wanted to inform you of the new plants we are picking up at the next trade planet."

Gilith feels his face twist with the lie, but now didn't seem like a good time to ask.

His desire to understand, however, doesn't fade after the incident. It only makes his hunger grow.

Instead of bothering Human Alex or Human Raven, Gilith decides to ask Human Bea, who does not sense him before he greets her.

"Hello, Human Bea."

"Yes, hello, Gilith. Is everything okay?"

"I have question."

Bea tilts her head. "Ask away."

"Are you- humans- able to detect someone before you see them?"

Bea's face softens into an aching sort of frown. "Not naturally."

"What do you mean?"

She takes a breath, seemingly preparing herself. "Well, most people are able to live in a relatively safe place. But some people aren't as lucky. Some people have to memorize the falls of others' feet. It's a learned survival tactic."

"I don't understand," Gilith says, his face wrinkling in confusion.

"Some people aren't safe, so for the ones who weren't born with the good luck of a safe home, they have to know who and where someone is. They have to know if they need to hide or prepare themself. They have to know if they're in danger or not."

Gilith feels his whole body go slack as a wave of sadness washes over him at the memory of Human Raven and Human Alex's reaction to his sudden appearance.

"I have loud stompers."

Bea's face scrunches up as though she's trying not to laugh. "You do. You have safe stompers, too."

[transgenderteensurvivalguide]

I came out as transfem to my friends a couple months ago, but every now and then I feel like I'm faking it. But when I'm called by my preferred name, my heart starts racing and I get a little smile.

Is this a normal thing?

Lee says:

Experiencing feelings of doubt or questioning like you're "faking it" can be part of the process for many people as they explore their gender identity.

This doesn't invalidate your experiences or your identity; sometimes it's a reflection of navigating a complex personal journey within a society that has rigid norms about gender.

Having doubts is normal, and many people who come out as trans continue to identify as trans throughout their lives, even if they initially had some discomfort getting used to their new identity and occasionally felt like they were faking it.

There are also some folks who feel like they're faking it and while they may not be intentionally faking an identity, that kernel of discomfort and wrongness may be a clue that something isn't quite right yet, whether it's their particular label, their gender expression, their pronouns, or their feelings about the gender roles they feel pressure to inhabit. I'm not saying that this is the case for you-- it seems like it likely isn't-- but I do feel that it's also important to acknowledge that not everyone who questions their gender will ultimately identify as transgender.

There should be no shame in questioning your gender, trying on new labels for a while, even coming out to friends to see how it feels to use the new label/pronouns/name, etc but ultimately reidentifying. The process of exploring one's gender identity is deeply personal and unique to each individual and there's nothing wrong with someone realizing that they aren't trans after all.

I'm writing all of that because I think this type of ask is often sent by folks wanting to know whether what they're feeling is normal because they're seeking reassurance that they're trans.

But we're not really here to reassure you that you're trans. We don't know you! Only you know your gender. If I tried to reassure you by saying "oh yeah I know for sure that you're trans, don't worry!" it would be beyond my scope as someone who is not-you.

I can tell you that it's normal to feel that way, that many other trans folks have felt that way, and that you will find your path eventually. It can be hard to figure it all out, but don't stress! Everyone always seems to have this super big sense of internal urgency, but it's okay to not be 100% certain of your gender identity, and to feel that way for months or even years.

Be patient with yourself. Understanding your gender identity is a journey, and it's okay to take your time. There's no rush to figure everything out immediately or to fit into any particular box. Trust yourself, and allow your journey to unfold in a way that feels authentic to you. All that being said, your current identity is valid, regardless of whether it shifts over time.

It's super common to have feelings of doubt and wrongness and feelings of faking it at the start of a transition, and that doesn't necessarily have to overshadow the joy and happiness that you experience when you're called by your preferred name. That gender euphoria you described is super real!

Seeking support can be incredibly helpful. This might include talking to friends who understand and support your journey, joining support groups for people exploring their gender identity, or finding a therapist who specializes in gender identity issues. These resources can provide a space to discuss your feelings, explore your identity, and receive support from others who have had similar experiences. Your feelings and experiences are real, and they deserve acknowledgment and respect.

Anons say:

(See follow-up post here!)

[erisweekofficial]

Tonight we're highlighting @chairofchaos!

🔥 Choas is a masterful Azris writer that has our hearts in her hands. If you're looking for something delightfully angsty or heartfelt (or both), look no further than her writing.

Although all of her work is amazing, we're currently crying over Letters of Love, which details Eris and Azriel falling in love and their relationship over time. Definitely get some tissues for this one. 😭😭And if you can't take our word for it take one of her fans:

The Letters of Love series has me spellbound in a way I can not describe. The love, the angst, the writing! I will forever cherish it. Chaos is truly a wonderful writer even if she is chaotic and I will devour this series until the end of time.

Be sure to check out their masterlist, including this Azris drabble!

Read on to learn some of Chaos's favorite Eris headcanons and which national/regional park Eris would get lost and die (or not die) in.

yes. we asked this.

Give us a name for one of Eris’ Brothers

James (so that he can use the “Um. James…” TikTok sound. A modern Eris would secretly have a TikTok. Super secret, but he would have one). Also, a relatively modern name simply because I’m tired of trying to get my word processor to recognize the validity of “Eris” and “Feyre” and even “Elain.” (No, do not add an “e”. I said, DO NOT ADD AN “E”!)

Give us a name for one of Eris’ hounds

Butter. Eris named him as a child because the hound liked to steal things off the kitchen counter, and the first thing he ever stole was a stick of butter. Eris got in a little trouble for it, so the official story is that his fur was lighter than is typical for a smokehound, and smooth like butter. The truth is that he fell in love with the little thief, and wanted to commemorate that first occurrence of thievery. It was a subtle act of rebellion on Eris’ part, and the chef was not pleased when he heard.

Give us some of your favorite Eris headcanons!

Eris is the family secret keeper. His mother tells him things. Lucien tells him things. His other brothers don’t mean to tell him things, but they drop hints and he’s smart enough to put things together. He goes unnoticed by adults as a young person, and is able to gather more information than anyone thought was possible. In doing so, he accidentally positions himself as knowledgeable on many family and court matters he probably shouldn’t even have known about in the first place. People also have a habit of just sharing things with him at random times, so he knows a considerable amount about each of the family guards, the Autumn Council, and their families. He’s a favorite with the court gossips because he will listen. He will rarely contribute, but he will always listen. As a result, everyone in court believes he is on their side. How this will play out when he is High Lord, Eris has no idea. For now, he’s happy hearing their tales of woe. Lord Cherry’s son eloped with the royal groundskeeper who taught Eris how to garden? Eris is absolutely shocked! Of course, he was the one who gave them a carriage to go to Spring, but Lord Cherry doesn’t need to know that.

Who scares Eris the most?

Eris is most scared of himself. I saw a post just the other day where a person told their therapist they were worried they would destroy everything, and their therapist told them they didn’t have that kind of power. They found it helpful because knowing you don’t have the power to change huge things in rage helped them. The difference here is that Eris has that kind of power by his proximity to societal power and his literal powers. He can destroy everything that matters to him if he is careless enough, and that terrifies him. He fears he would be powerful enough to change the world, and wishes he did not have that amount of power, because he has seen first hand how power corrupts. Outside of himself, he is most scared of Lucien. Lucien has more power than he could even imagine, and Eris isn’t sure his brother knows. At the same time, he fears the day Lucien discovers Eris knew, and that Lucien will never forgive him for keeping the knowledge to himself.

What kind of father does Eris imagine he would be, and does that differ from his actual father?

Eris imagines himself to be a brutal, unyielding, possibly even abusive father, as Beron was. He has never known a loving father, and while he believes it is theoretically possible, he looks in the mirror and sees Beron staring back at him. In every way possible, Beron has shaped Eris to be unforgiving, unyielding, brutal, and cruel. Eris worries that he will become Beron if he has children. It takes someone telling him that his worries and fear of becoming his father are what can keep him from becoming Beron. He needs a lot of support to feel confident enough that it is possible in order to become a father at all. Once he has that support, I think he does everything he can to be a better father than the one he had.

What national/regional park would Eris get lost and die (or not die) in?

Eris is dying in Petrified Forest National Park as we speak. He’s dying of heat related injuries and sun exposure. That male was not made for the desert. Fire powers cannot save you from the Arizona sun.

[katetorias]

Hi :D

Sorry for the anon ask, I'm too shy to ask on your Instagram story whenever you do a qna. I've been wondering what it feels like to be (part of) a system. I can't quite imagine what that must be like and I'm just super curious about it

One of my most burning questions has been: how does it feel to just come into existence as a new alter? You said that Prom is still a fairly new addition and I honestly can't imagine what that must feel like and how someone wouldn't know they were a system after that.

Also how does it feel to be an alter that isn't the host? Does it feel shitty to not be out as much and to be considered "somebody's alter" instead of their own person?

Feel free to ignore this if you're uncomfortable with it. Also love your art of you and your fiancé, so cute!!

since systems are formed due to the unique trauma the specific system went through, we can only really talk on our experiences. since people react to trauma differently, systems (an extreme trauma response), all form differently and have different ways they fit into the diagnostic criteria for these disorders.

im going to answer your question in a long format below^^

• for context: we are bodily 22, and we've been receiving psych care since we were around 11/12. our therapeutic progress has always been stagnant because after we left the situation we were in, we had almost completely blocked out everything that happened. so we had nothing to tell our therapists and we didn't feel comfortable talking with them. we were often dissociated and would just answer questions shortly while staring at the ground instead of engaging.

because of our lack of progress/seeming lack of effort, our mom stopped taking us to therapy and psychiatrist appointments. she thought it was a waste of time and probably saw our mental illness as misbehaving/not caring enough to try to be happy. this kept us from having proper psych care for years. we would occasionally get called to the counselor's office in school and at some point we had to start missing school for therapy again. college had us losing that support and flunking out because of the dissociation/suicidality. we only finally got access to meds after i had to go outpatient, and we've been with our therapist since.

• how we didn’t notice: due to this we had no knowledge that our experiences weren't normal. our mental health has been neglected for years and we had no way of knowing what was happening with us because we had no basis as to understand. we have a gap in our memory from a little after we left our situation to early high school. our friend always says we knew each other in middle school and talked, but we don't remember enough of those years. amnesia can show up in a lot of different ways. we've only experienced two noticeable black outs, the rest is gradual. not remembering things soon after they happened, being told we said things we didn't remember saying, being unable to describe important events in our lives, vaguely knowing what happened but not remembering the experience.

• on forming: When I (Prompto) formed, we had just flunked out of college and were forced to start working. Me and my fiancé were just starting our relationship and were playing my source. My source was a fat child who experienced bullying and parental neglect, being left alone and friendless for years, feeling like he has to change his weight to be liked. We really couldn't handle having a job. we were clinging and desperately coping by consuming my source. Eventually I started feeling like I was confusing things that happened in game with things that happened to me, and my real life memories from years, or even just months before didn't feel familiar. This was frightening, I would cry to Noctis about how I was feeling, how I couldn't remember anything before our road trip (event in source). But we didn't have any resources to explain, I thought I was being weird and childish.

Because of the stress of this job we had, I would spend most of our time in a heightened state, anxious or dreading the next days. Jack (who formed in our childhood to take care of us and our little brother when we’d be left alone) started resurfacing again after being gone for years. Our brain was trying to protect us, but I didn’t understand why I suddenly felt different. Sometimes it felt like I would just leave. I started being told that I was saying things I didn’t agree with again. Jack felt miserable trying to force himself to be me. This conflict and pain was the reason we ended up outpatient, and a few months after came to terms with the fact that we were a system.

• on what it’s like to not be the host: for us we don’t really refer to ourselves as “someone’s” alters since we don’t really have a collective identity (discounting the body we act like). I’ve been making an effort to accommodate everyone, and make sure we get the time we want in the body or just have things that are our own. (Making space for their things/interests. Setting times for specific people to have a chance to front)

This is Nathan’s perspective since he’s been fronting more often lately:

- I actually used to hate being an alter. i felt frustrated that I got torn away from my shitty life to just be part of someone else’s. I didn’t want to exist in the system at all. our body isn’t mine. im skinny and im covered in healing SH scars, and im not hairy and i have short hair, im cis. i used to hate fronting. I would actively wish i could just disappear. it didn’t seem like me being around was helping anyone. dissociation sucked and I would pick fights with our fiancé. im pretty much the only one of us who gets full flashbacks, and i fucking hate looking at stuff for my source online because everyone hates me. or ignores the story to justify hating me instead of just. hating me for what’s actually in source.

we talked with our therapist and eventually i started coming to therapy and she treated me like my own person. she made sure to create a distinction between my feelings about something and Prompto’s. she told me to create a thing i could do instead of be angry which is why i would usually front. Prompto put a lot of effort into making me feel comfortable. it’s like pri could tell how sensitive I actually am. pri designated a corner of our apartment to me and got me decorations pri thought i would like. i got to make my own instagram. It felt good to be myself. when i wasnt forcing myself to be prompto i felt more content. the more i could express myself as a person the easier it was to communicate with the system, i struggled less with memory and i think were less dissociated now than ever because prompto made such an effort to acknoledge us as our own selves.

sorry for the long answer but you asked so not sorry I guess lol. prompto probably had a better closing statement but I don’t really give a fuck. thx for the question

[itskattkm]

New York New Rules Pt. 3

Warnings: Violence, Trauma, Fluff, maybe Smut, mental health, blood

Summary: Y/N meets the survivors of the last events in Woodsborrow and gets on Ghostface's list. But there is also a darkness in Y/N wich path is she going to choose

Female Y/N x Tara Carpenter

Sorry for bad writing. I'm using a translator and hope you guys can enjoy it. Also, this is going to be a long story

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

My body began to vibrate, or rather my head when I leaned it against the window of the taxi. So let's start reflecting on the day as it went so far.

Missed therapy hour because my therapist was brutally murdered. Check.

Shit... it would take me months until I find a new one.

What happened next? I closed my eyes and played the pictures in my head through like a movie.

Been accused for murder? Check.

Have been exposed and embarrassed In front of your girl crush and her sister? Check.

Surprising meeting with Kirby? Check.

Pursued by paparazzis and "interviewed" by Gale weathers? Check.

Witness to Tara punching Gale Weathers? Check.

Was I slightly turned on by it? Double Check.

"Y/N you're good?" A soft voice brought me back. I opened my eyes and had to blink slightly because of the unexpected brightness around me. I nodded silently and looked for the eyes of the taxi driver in the rear-view mirror. I put my hand on the passenger seat and pulled slightly forward, which is why Tara who sat between me and Sam pushed herself closer to Sam to give me the place I needed. "Hey you can let me out at Pompeii Pizza" he nodded to me but now Sam bent down in front "Y/N you can't go now you have to come with us" there was that shy me I knew so good. I probably would have done anything she said, but right now? Now I felt numb. Not present. And I didn't care.

No matter what happened yesterday. No matter what happened today. I just had to go home and hide in my room. It was one thing to become suspicious for several murders but to be exposed in front of almost complete strangers and to be claimed as a crazy woman with mental problems? And on top of that in front of your crush. That was too much for me.

Although Detective Bailey had exposed me to the two and they knew now more about me than I would have liked to let them know, I asked myself the question

Why do you want me to come with you?

"Why?" I asked confused

"Apart from the fact that you are a suspect, we have to talk to the others about it. Mindy wants us all to meet at the Blackmoore," she said and her eyes darkened. Although they didn't seem particularly inviting at the moment, I recognized something soothing in them.

"So you believe what Bailey said?" I asked and did not seem as strong as I had hoped. My voice was getting quieter and quieter. Maybe we didn't know each other so well, and I was just a friend of Mindy but did they really believe that I was behind it?

"Where were you during the bodega attack?" Said Tara cautions.

Confused, my gaze met hers. No, I wasn't confused. I was hurt. Her look was cold. Anger could be seen in her dark eyes, but the way she pulled her eyebrows together told me that there was something else, but what?

"Pompeii Pizza" said the driver and stopped.

Exhausted, I took a look and sighed. I shook my head when I opened the door of the taxi and got out.

"Y/N!"

I ignored it. Did Tara really think I was behind it? I didn't like the way she looked at me. As if I were a monster... the cars on the street were getting louder and louder for me. The measurements of people who were on the streets. Confused, I looked at the floor as I slowly went to the pizzeria.

And there they were at once. A few minutes before, I felt numb and now. Now there were too many feelings. I tried to arrange it in my head like a riddle. But I couldn't see anything. Too many letters. No words. I clenched my hands into fists to feel something I could describe. Then there was this sting. A continuous stitch. I had pressed my nails firmly into my palms so tightly that my knuckles turned white. Now I asked myself. What does that feel like?

After resensood.

Pressure a pressure that did not want to disappear.

And then the letters in my head came together and the word pain appeared before my eyes.

"Y/N wait!" I was grabbed by my shoulder and expected to be abruptly turned over. However, I was surprised and that of Sam. She sighed and slowly stood in front of me, so that I was forced to look at her. I was forced not to go any further.

"I was also a patient at Dr. Stone"

With widened eyes, I looked at her and a short smile escaped her lips when she agreed to my expression with a nodding head. "Believe me when I tell you that I can imagine how you feel. But you also have to understand-"

She looked over my shoulder to see Tara. However, I did not follow her gaze. As Tara had looked at me earlier... I never wanted to see these eyes again. That look in them. It made me feel so vulnerable and anxious. I already had it so hard to keep in touch with the people around me, but I tried to stand by. And with Tara, well it won't be difficult for me to ignore her in the near future.

At least that's what I thought

"After what we've been through, it's difficult for us with new people... and how fucked that sounds, but that's what Bailey said are very violent coincidences Y/N and if we should trust you... then you have to prove it to us"

Now I felt a different feeling.

Incomprehension

"Why should I do that?"

Surprised, Sam looked at me and straightened up. She probably didn't expect this answer.

"Sam, I am not part of your group. I'm just a friend of Mindy's"

I looked at the pizzeria and looked into the eyes of my own reflection Why do I looked so sad?

"As much as I wish it would be different, but even for Mindy I am just an acquaintance from the courses we have in common. And we both know Mindy, she is also very careful when it comes to new people. After she told me about Ghostface because it was a short topic in our course and not because she told me as a friend, I knew, okay. This friendship is nothing more than an an acquaintance, so why should I care Sam?" My legs were moving. I lightly bumped Sam on her shoulder to go past her but she grabbed me tightly by my arm and moved us so that I had to meet her eyes and my back faced the pizzeria.

"Because you care," she said bright. Confused, I looked at her. Her look was gentler than before and there was this glow.

"You may feel alone. And maybe you are... but you care. No matter how bad you are feeling. How the people around you are doing... you are someone who can feel how others are doing. And as much as you sometimes have to struggle with the darkness... you still care. Even if it hurts"

Why did it feel like a description of herself?

Were we both more similar than knew? I mean, we both went to the same therapist, maybe there was something to it. But what was Sam's problem? Also aggression? Mindy had never told me in detail what happened to all of them back then. She just said that the stab movies are based on true events and the murders of last year? Well she and her friends were involved.

Of course, I had watched all the stab films afterwards, but I couldn't imagine what must have happened to them.

"Go home. Take your time. But I hope that you come to the Blackmoore and try to find an answer for all this, together with us. You don't want to be a suspect, do you? So why not find out who is really behind it?"

She gave me a slight smile and left. Even after the taxi drove away, I was still starring on the same spot. Where did I get in there?

Damn Samantha Carpenter...

These feelings which you and your sister leave me behind are too much for me.

[the-firefly-jar-system]

i'm really upset about the transandrophobia discourse right now. i am not a transmisogynist for acknowledging that i also face oppression, and i'm not playing as a victim for wanting a word to describe my oppression. i apologize in advance if this is rambly or hard to understand

i am a transmasc nonbinary teenager, as well as autistic. i am *easily* spotted as queer because of how i express myself as transmasc. i am especially a target because of the ear defenders i wear to help with my sensory issues.

i have been threatened, harassed, called slurs, misgendered on purpose, physically and verbally attacked, fetishized, and more. this has all happened before and after i stopped trying to 'pass' as a cis guy and also started accommodating my autism. i absolutely do not benefit from male privilege in any way, nor am i accepted as a 'real' male by my peers. almost every cis boy at my school wants nothing to do with me, and only after years of being in school with me they are able to talk to me like a person. i have been asked by parents and teachers if i actually want to use they/them instead of my preferred he/him or he/they because of how i present (this comes from a place of support, but only makes me feel dysphoric). i was taken off of puberty blockers because therapists didn't want to approve hrt for me, despite my diagnosis of gender dysphoria, as i have non-normative transition goals. i can't go into any gendered bathrooms because people know i'm not a woman (and i feel highly dysphoric in the woman's bathroom), and i feel incredibly unsafe and singled out in the men's bathroom. i'm not seen as a boy, just a nonbinary person (which i am, but not only) or a confused girl who wants to be special.

by the way, i live in a very progressive place. i have it good compared to a lot of other transmascs.

this is absolutely a widespread issue, and by ignoring or denying it you are making it so much easier for people to target us without repercussions. i understand that people want to move past this discourse, but we cannot move on and advocate for each other as a community if the oppression against all kinds of trans people isn't acknowledged properly as an issue. please see us: the oppression we face does not undermine your own oppression

[uwukillmenowowo]

Oh what if you make the Yandere Enki X Therapist reader into a multi part series and it includes reader seeing him murking that inmate and her still working for Nanbaka afterwards and then leading up to Enki getting freed

Y'know what..?

SURE!

WHY NOT MAKE A SERIES?!?

Keeping Me Sane Pt.2

(Yandere Enki Gokuu X Therapist! Female! Reader!)

Chapter 1

Notes:

You were a recently appointed therapist.

Since you had to look over some inmates and guards one on one you got to learn how to use Qigong from the best of the best. Building 5.

You got along with one guard in particular, Samon

He taught you more about close combat and how to block out Qi channeling.

That way if an inmate gets to aggressive, you can paralyze them.

Basically you're like Ty Lee from ATLA.

Somethings wrong... You can feel it. It's coming from building 5. However, you ignore it, thinking that it was just some inmates. That is... until you get too close to a certain guard

{Second POV}

~~~~~

Ever since that moment back in building 5. You kept getting called over there by other inmates. They all talked about encountering a monster. You were confused, and per your job, you asked them about it. All the inmates described it as a big, ape like shadow, extremely strong and agile, threatening, and possessive. You asked what the inmates said by "threatening and possessive"

They didn't give you a response...

On the bright side. The guard that practically pounded you to the wall apologized. And even bought you your favorite snack and drink. Enki looked like he was having trouble apologizing so you assumed that he was apologizing and accepted it.

In reality he just wanted you to stop talking to the damn inmates. Ever since that, you Enki, and Samon would always talk about different stuff when you head over to building 5. Everything was really good between you three.

But for Enki... it was a different story. Every time you visited inmates, Enki would visit straight after and threaten the inmates. All the inmates were terrified. Soon after, the rumors about the 'Monster' circled through the prison.

What made it hard for Enki was that you and the warden knew about it. He was absolutely pissed and vowed to destroy the inmate who came up with that nickname. If you found out the monster was him then there would be no doubt that you would be terrified of him. So he started to do that one thing he could to keep you safe.

Total manipulation.

He started using your own profession against you. Making you overthink into the wrong stuff and eventually you started convincing the other inmates that the so called 'Monster' was most likely just a hallucination because of what a certain inmate had done in the past. The words of a 'Monster' died out and the warden was so proud that she gave you access to more areas. Which just so happened to include the underground layers and archives in each building.

Enki was also proud. He treated you to a dinner and to say you were shocked was an understatement. Hell you ever felt a spark of pride when Enki started praising you. But you didn't want to act on those emotions. Enki instantly realized it and grit his teeth as he realized that the plans that Ruka had instructed him to act on weren't working.

You and Enki got closer and closer. But with each passing moment, the inmates grew restless and more... lifeless. You were worried and would inform Enki and Samon about it. Same said he'd take a look and Enki would pat your head and tell you not to worry about it.

And you trusted Enki so surely things would be fine.

[battleczar]

First Contact

A nonfiction essay on death and touch

I didn’t expect to cry the first time I held a woman’s heart in my hands. The heart was a large cool weight, colored like pearlescent Georgia clay. It belonged to a woman who had died of a stroke at the age of 76, and who now lay before me in the basement cadaver lab of ——— University, faceless and open on the steel table. My classmates drew close around me, letting me cry, holding me with their presence, for the two minutes I took before I passed the heart to my left.

Massage therapy school is intense. For me, it was night classes fifteen hours a week, learning legal codes, debating ethical practices, categorizing the parts of the body from the mitochondria to the corpus callosum, and of course, learning touch. Always touch. For me, that was the most difficult part. Massage therapists learn a kind of touch that is just as psychological as it is physical, as we learn to think with our fingertips and emote with our palms. It is delicate and draining work, and at first I struggled to turn off my mind. I didn’t like to be touched so much by classmates that I barely knew. But I focused hard on learning our first skill: the “hello”. The “hello” is the first contact a massage therapist makes during a massage, and it is essential that it be full of calm and mindful intent. It lasts a breath before moving on, both a brief promise of trust and an expression of gratitude. It cannot be spoken, only felt.

It only took three months or so before I began to feel comfortable with the demands of my classes. As I settled more fully into the learning environment, my teachers began to teach without words. If I was palpating a classmate’s back, a teacher would walk over to me, observe my hands for a moment, and then place their own hands over mine. Without any questions being asked or answered, I would understand what they were telling me. It felt like experiencing the ah-ha! of fluency in a new language. Through wordless touch, my teachers corrected mistakes and fixed problems that I’m sure couldn’t have been adequately described out loud.

The cadaver lab was not a required course. I first had the chance to take it in my second quarter of school, but declined to register; I was frightened of how I might react to seeing dead bodies for the first time. I wanted to be a death doula, and I was worried that I would prove myself a squeamish coward, unfit to work with the dying. If I discovered weakness in this area, how could I continue with any of my training? But the next opportunity was my final chance to take the class, and so in June of 2019 I took a crack-of-dawn bus to ——— University, buzzing with coffee and fear. My anatomy teacher from massage therapy school was also a professor at———; she and my eighteen other classmates congregated in the dining hall at 8:50am. She answered our questions, we filled out safety waivers and consent forms, and each minute that I came closer to entering the lab, I felt more and more like I was dreaming. When I finally pulled on my lab coat and gloves and stepped foot into the cadaver lab, I was a hollow drum. A classmate came over to me and took my arm, and I felt her trembling energy: I wasn’t alone.

My first “hello” was not chosen so much for symbolic importance as it was that the human shin is a non-threatening place to touch. This was the shin of a formerly 58-year-old man, and it was cold and firm. I kept my fingertips there for a few seconds, determined not to flinch away. It surprised me to realize that I had no desire to flinch at all. There was no hostility in this body, nor anything inhuman. Together with my classmates, as our teacher lifted the pre-dissected quadriceps away from the femur, we silently said our “hello” to the man on the table, who had willed his body to teach us long after his words were gone.

Lunch break was very strange. We left the building stinking of formalin and methanol, the side door outside the lab emerging directly into the sprawling sunlit gardens of ———. I felt like I was moving underwater, reeling with revelation. Human bodies were beautiful. Nerves looked like mother-of-pearl fettuccine; the liver was enormous; metastasized cancer spread like bread mold; the spine was a cascading Jacob’s Ladder. I had spent so much time reading textbooks and studying diagrams, but none of that was real. To truly learn, I had to touch. Touch had opened a fourth dimension of comprehension. I sat on a bench beneath a willow tree and leaned my head on a classmate’s shoulder; another classmate came and sat on the grass, back against my legs. We passed our wonder to each other, and watched the willow leaves dance.

When we returned to the cadaver lab for the afternoon, we were all calmer, a little more eager to reach out to the cadavers. With our gloved hands full, we stood shoulder-to-shoulder, nudging questions and pressing answers. Momentarily distracted from examining her carpal tunnel, I held a former grandmother’s hand, and somebody handed me her heart, and suddenly the weight of my gratitude broke. I didn’t need to explain why I was crying to my classmates. They felt it too, and we all moved a little closer for it.

[garfield420]

Lost Time (Part One)

Midoriya Izuku x Reader

AN: wanted to make a small fic inspired by a dream i had a some time ago that i can't get off my mind

It had been three years since Midoriya Izuku passed, and since then you had never dared step foot inside that house. Things would change however when you receive a certain request from the boys mother asking you to house-sit while she was in the hospital. You couldn't refuse her.

warnings: angst, noquirkau, ghosts, slight yandere in a later part, implied suicide, bullying mention, definitely ooc but idc, also not proof read but idc

You got out of your car, taking in the fresh air and the view of cloudy Fall. The orange and brown colors ordain the yard of the house you're staring at as you feel an emotional sensation twirl in your stomach. It's been some time since you've been here, given the last time you were inside that home your childhood friend was still alive. He was more than a friend to you, but you always found it easier to describe him as a your friend as opposed to a 'highschool sweetheart' given the short time you two held with each other.

You continuously stare at the house, knowing full well you'll have to go in soon. You came back to the area recently to help Inko, Izuku's mom, with housesitting while she was away sick, she was recently hospitalized and so she needed someone to housesit in the meantime. You two bonded well after his death, finding solace in being with someone who also carried that unforgettable burden on the heart.

You sighed before going to the back of your car to open the trunk revealing a black luggage case that had all your clothes and belongings in it. You were supposedly staying for a few days until Inko recovered enough to be released so you packed enough clothes to last you for about 3 days. You grabbed your luggage out the trunk and closed the trunk before bringing it to the front of the door.

According to Inko she mentioned that she would be leaving a key behind one of the potted plants, which enough quick searching you find it soon enough. Taking the key you unlock the door and open it. As you step inside you take in the familiar but now distant view of the house, you can't tell if it's the grief or the nostalgia that's making the house look less vibrant and joyful it used to be. The pang you feel in your gut as you stand at the doorway is one you were half-heartedly expecting, but were hoping to avoid. You look at the walls and notice the lack of pictures there used to be when you were younger as you recall a conversation she had with you where she mentioned her therapist recommended she make photo albums instead to help handle the grief better.

You close the door and stand there for a moment, you recall bittersweet memories of Izuku and you when you were kids.

(

Izuku and you sat in front of the TV playing games, a bit too close for Inko's taste but she let you both just enjoy the day. Your mom dropped you off since she had other things to tend to that day, and found it better to let you play with your friend than to hand you off to some random babysitter.

You were playing some kind of racer game, the name that's been lost to you, and you two were taking turns to play it together since Izuku only had one controller. You both were aiming to get first place since the spot had eluded the both of you so far, yet the closest you both seemed to get to was second place.

Izuku sputtered out some noises, once again landing in second place, "The game has to be cheating! This isn't fair...!" he said with a flair of frustration. You reached over to grab the controller, and he reluctantly handed it to you with a pout, as he wanted to go again. You noticed this and a grand idea had popped into your mind.

"Why don't we share? I take this side of the controller and you take the other." You proposed the idea, figuring that maybe if you two put your best skills together in the game that you both can get first. Izuku face changed as he began to think about the offer, before turning to a smile.

"Okay, I'll take the left side of the controller and you get the right, does that sound good?" He offered, as you nodded with a smile. You moved in close to sit right next to Izuku, you both flush next to each other. He froze for a moment, surprised by the contact, but regained himself and you both split the controller. It was awkward handling the controller but you both got used to it. Next thing you know...

"We did it!!!" You cheered, both your faces brimming with elation. Izuku hugged you in joy and you hugged him back. Your face felt warm and you were happy.

You were happy.

)

Tears welled at your eyes as you breathe in the painful nostalgia, you know you should be happy about the time you two got to spend together but another part laments what could have been. Where would you be now if two different strands of fate melded into each other? Would you be happier? Or would you still be as miserable as you feel now?

Your internal ruminations are halted by your stomach growling, realizing that you didn't eat when you left this morning for the four hour drive here. You recalled Inko told you she had some leftovers and other food in the fridge you could help yourself to. You wipe your eyes of the small beads that collected in the corners of your eyes. You recall where the kitchen was and leave your luggage by the front door since you want to eat before you unpack.

She offered to pay for your stay, but you declined since you figured it had been some time since you left this place for schooling. After Izuku's passing, you wrote this entire city off in act of resentment. The only good thing around here is your family and Inko, who you cherish like family. To you, she is the kindest woman you have ever known, and the least deserving of what had happened. She felt bad about you staying since she knew how you felt about everything surrounding his death. You two had met up occasionally for lunch in that time following, you even jokingly refer to her as your second mom since she practically co-raised you when you were young.

Entering the kitchen, you hit the lights in the kitchen, deciding the grey ambience from outside was too much for your worn heart to handle. Warm lights grace you and your mood immediately eases, funny how light can alter your mood so much. You beeline for the fridge, beginning to feel the crushing hunger on you. You grab the first thing of left overs that catches your eye and place it on the counter. Before you go to close the fridge door you feel a strong cold sensation in front of you that sends shivers down your back. You blink for a moment before writing the cold off as coming from the fridge.

You close the fridge and go to nuke the leftovers in the microwave, feeling the sudden exhaustion of the long drive. Realizing you hadn't even taken your coat off, you do so quickly and toss it on one of the vacant chairs in the kitchen. You rub your face and stretch to try and put a little bit more energy into yourself, finding no success in the matter. You yawn as you go back to stare at your food rotating in the microwave, feeling the slowness of time.

Suddenly the sounds of a soft guitar fill the room, as your phone begins ringing. You pull your phone out of your pocket and instantly recognize the caller ID, you waste no time picking up. Setting the phone to speaker phone and placing it on the counter, you answer.

"Hey, Mom Two!" you respond in a cheerful tone.

"Hello, (Y/N)." she responds in a happy but groggy fashion, reminding you again that she's in the hospital.

"How's everything going on with you at the hospital? Nothing too bad I hope."

"Oh I'll be fine I'm sure, the doctor's just want to run a few tests and make sure I'm well and rested up."

You smile as the microwave goes off, you ignore it in favor of the conversation.

"That's good at least, last thing we need you rushing out of the hospital and breaking a hip!" You joke as she laughs in return.

"Hey, I'm that old! You never know, once I'm all healed up I might be more spry than you!" She joked in return as you chuckled. "Did you make it to the house?" She asked, as you feel your smile begin to drop.

"Oh yeah, just got here in fact. I haven't unpacked yet though. How long do you think you'll be in the hospital anyways." You respond in a false cheery tone, hoping to change the conversation. This doesn't go completely unnoticed by Inko.

"Doctor's estimated in three days, hopefully I'll get discharged in two." There's a short silence before Inko follows up with a question. "How's the house? I know it's been a while since you've been inside so I want to make sure you're fine." She said with a slight concern for you in her voice. You wanted to run from the conversation, you weren't ready to talk about this yet.

"Oh it's fine. Actually Inko, I just heated some food up and I'm really tired and I also have to unpack, so how about I call you later tonight or tomorrow?" You quickly try to dodge the conversation, this also doesn't go unnoticed by Inko.

"Alright... but if you have any issues call me, okay? And if you need to leave I completely understand, just let me know okay?"

"Yes Inko, I'll call you later." You hang up the phone, and swallow your emotions. You'll have to apologize to her later, but talking about it will just bring out a lot that you're not ready for.

You grab your leftovers and take them with you to the couch. You're sure you'd be scolded for this but you need to sit down and relax, in front of you sits the living room TV and a coffee table littered with miscellaneous trinkets. You reach for the remote to turn the TV on to fill the silence in the room with something other than your thoughts.

You flip over to some random trashy reality TV, you didn't care what it was, as long as it drowned your thoughts in a lake of silence. You shove a mouthful of food into you as you barely focus on the uninspired drivel displayed in front of you. You take delight in the food, you'll definitely have to send your regards to Inko when she comes back. She was always a good cook, although you'd never say it, you sometimes felt she was an even better cook then your mother.

(

"Ms. Midoriya, what foods does Izuku like?" You asked, looking up at Inko.

"Why do you ask?" Inko asked, a glimmer of curiosity shining in her eyes. You shuffle awkwardly, thinking of a way to explain away your intentions. You and Izuku had just started middle school, and you don't want to lie to her about your intentions, but you're not sure if it's your place you talk about it.

"Just curious is all." You lied, feeling light guilt burden itself on your shoulders. You wanted her to know, but you didn't know if it was appropriate to tell her. You merely swallow your feelings on the matter.

Inko looks at you for a moment, taking notice of your awkward demeanor and the way you're having difficulty looking at her.

"Izuku really likes Katsudon." She responded with a comforting smile, you felt relieved she wasn't going to grill you for more details. You didn't know if it was okay to tell her kids at school were bullying Izuku and destroying his lunches. You felt bad for him, and you wanted to help him by making him lunches, that way he could still eat. He'd never ask for help, he was always worried about burdening others with his problems.

"How do you make katsudon? Can you teach me?" Determined to help Izuku any way you could, you decided this could be the best method without making him feel like he's a burden on you. Inko nodded. and that day you learn how to cook Izuku's favorite food.

)

You quickly scarf the food down as your stomach reminds you why you're eating in the first place, and once you finish you lazily place the leftovers on the coffee table before you. You try to focus your attention to the TV, trying to ignore the fact of your situation and that you still need to unpack, but you fail miserably. All you could think about was when you two were younger and the innocent bliss that came with it.

Your eyes began to tear up.

You felt a strong pit in your throat, rife with emotion. You couldn't hold it in anymore. You choked out a small sob as you covered your face with your hands, breaking down from the grief. You felt the swirling emotions of anger, a sense of loss, loneliness, and most importantly; sadness.

It wasn't fair! Izuku was the kindest boy you ever knew, so why him? Why was he the punching bag for all the other kids? No reasonable conclusion could come to your mind other than all the other kids were awful, reminding you of the vitriol you felt when he died. You remember screaming in anger, threatening to beat up the other kids, you cursed them; hoping one day they'll be forced to feel the grief they made you endure. One thought popped out the most, the one that hurt and broke you the most;

Why weren't you enough to convince him to stay?

You let out a loud sob as you curl inwards to the couch, wishing you were being comforted. For the past three years you've been forced to face that gnawing emptiness as you try to deny it's existence in you, some days you find peace with it; and then there are days like today. You cried into the couch cushions for some time trying to find some comforting solution to your suffering; only leaving you with cuts on your fingers tugging at empty fishing lines from a lake of grief.

Soon enough you felt yourself grow tired from all the weeping, calming down as you lay on the couch. You felt another cold sensation hit you, and you cuddle further into a couch, too heartbroken to fetch a blanket. You close your eyes, and feel the overwhelming exhaustion hit you again. You can wait on unpacking your luggage, you wanted- no, needed rest. This can all wait for tonight, as you just want your brain to be silent for a moment.

Thus in that moment, you felt yourself drift off into a sleep, unaware of the other presence lurking in the house.

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #329

Despite what I said I was gonna do after I wrote yesterday's letter, I did not, in fact, play any Chrono Cross. Once everything was written and posted up, a wave of exhaustion hit me like a truck full of bricks, and I needed to go to bed pretty much immediately. So that is what I did.

...I woke up this morning feeling not much better than I did when I fell asleep. Lame...

We of my house are still trying to make preparations to exit this place. The guy who we had that immigration consultation with gave me permission to share the link to his website in this space. I'll leave it here; I know you can't use it because you don't live on Earth, but... still, why not:

...Hey, Sephiroth? What's your planet called, anyway? Mine is called Earth (yes, we basically named it “dirt”; suuuuuper original, I know... 🙄). For lack of anything better to use, we of my world have been calling your planet Gaia. But is that the right word to use? We don't actually know...

Anyway, the consultation fee is 150 Canadian Dollars (before taxes and whatnot), which translates to about 108 American dollars (also before taxes and whatnot). But I was given a concise roadmap for the first several steps we need to take. The man we spoke to – Pan Dong – is knowledgeable and kind. He listened to us without judgment, and took a little extra time to try to help us find the best path forward. I'd feel really good about it if other folks turned to him to help them get out of this place if that's what they wanna do.

...We gotta save money, though. The steps are all pretty expensive. Just the English test is some $285 apiece. And we need three of them. Some of the steps after that are even more expensive. So... at psychotherapy today, I went in, prepared to stop seeing him altogether (it's some $150 per session...), but we talked about seeing each other once a month instead of once a week.

We both lamented the fact that we're not allowed to be friends. That's just the way of things here; if a person was your therapist, you're not allowed to be friends after the fact, even if both parties would like that. Breach of ethics, I guess. It's just how it is.

...It occurs to me just how convenient it is that your planet has a single, unified currency system. Gil is gil, no matter where you go. In my world, all the different countries have different currencies, which have different values. I get that it came about as a result of Shinra's domination of your planet (my goodness, but they really do need to cut that shit out...), but still, there are some aspects of my world that seem kinda... needlessly complicated. The currency system is one of them.

Physical therapy was productive today. This time, K did work on my upper and lower ribs; apparently, some of them were hanging around at weird angles. I went into physical therapy with a lot of pain, and then he squished the right side of my rib cage in various ways while asking me to breathe in deeply. A few things popped, and at one point when he was holding something and I breathed in, he said, surprised, “Oh! It moved!” I didn't think to ask what it was that moved. He mashed some things around near my right armpit, right pectoral muscle, and right shoulder joint. It hurt A LOT – all of the muscles around there are VERY angry. But I'm no stranger to this sort of thing; I was my mother's test subject when she was learning massage therapy, so... ya know.

In the end, I was able to move around and breathe just a little easier. I'm not sure how long this is gonna last, though. I'll hope for good things, and I'll make sure to do the new exercise I was given.

...I'm really glad that some of the stuff I describe is not stuff you're ever gonna hafta deal with. Like... your body just works. It's not the case that your most abundant protein is genetically and fundamentally wrong. Collagen is pretty structurally important; it builds most things. The fact that my body doesn't build it correctly is more than a little bit of an issue – one that's gonna get worse and worse as I get older.

...It's a little scary to think about. But what is there to do except keep clunkin' along derpily until I can't anymore? I don't got fancy funky powers like you. I didn't pay for such powers in blood, sweat, tears, and misery like you did.

Still, I'll do what I can to make the best of this ordinary life. Things around me are really scary right now, but I can still try to find the good things in my immediate vicinity.

...Like the salad I ate and the tea I prepared today! I mean... yes, I did forget to eat anything until it became like 4pm, but!!! I threw together some mixed greens and black beans and some leftover lamb leg, and a bunch of other stuff! And it was good!

...A good salad shouldn't be some bland thing, I think. A good salad is supposed to be kinda like a crunchy punch in the face – crisp greens, bold flavors, and lots of nice stuff to fill it out with!!

I had the glazed lemon loaf tea with it. I still gotta use up all that leftover cream from the baking experiment, so I added that instead of milk:

...It's always nice when I get to capture a good tea swirl...!

I met with an admissions advisor to a Canadian game development school today. Studying is a good way to immigrate, and... if the worst happens and I end up needing to build a world in which you will be safe, I'm going to need these skills. And, if I get those skills, I'll be able to apply them to other things.

But... this school is some $29,950 in Canadian dollars. That's about $21,466 in US dollars, but... that's still nothing to sneeze at. Even with a two-year-long payment plan, that's still at least $900 per month, assuming there will be an interest rate. And they say it's a “fast-paced”, 8-month program. And also... the lady was hesitant to give me the price at all, or to list any of the available payment plan options. She kept insisting that I needed to apply before knowing the price, and the application fee is $250 Canadian dollars (about $179 US dollars), and... it seems predatory. Why was she so desperate for me to apply to the school if we don't even know whether I can pay for it...? And I wonder if “fast-paced” is code for “we cram far too much content in too little time”.

...The school boasts near one-on-one interaction with the professors, which is appealing to me, but... the whole interaction seemed full of subtle red flags. The lady seemed nice enough, but still... I didn't really like it. I might try to find some other spot that teaches the same thing, preferably at a lower cost and at a more sustainable pace. The notion that I could create a whole game of the quality I want within 8 months all by myself is... laughable. Absolutely ludicrous. Seems fake, like it's too good to be true.

...Ugh, Sephiroth, there's just... so much stuff swirling around in my head. I look at me and my life, and I know that even with all these things going on, I'm still astoundingly privileged. There are lots of war-torn places in my world right now – places being bombarded with bombs and bullets as we speak. People who are starving, children who are getting shot, and so many more horrific things. And it all seems so senseless. Fighting over which magical sky-dude to worship seems silly. Fighting over skin color seems silly. Fighting over the places people were born seems silly. Fighting over which genitalia are between a person's legs, and fighting over which genitalia are “correct” to prefer, it all just seems so... ridiculous.

It IS ridiculous. Who CARES how much melanin a person produces!! Who CARES if some people worship Allah, or Jehovah, or Yahweh, or whomever else!! Who CARES which genitalia a person has, or which genitalia they prefer to interact with!! Who CARES if a person was born in North America, South America, Asia, Europe, Africa...??? Why do we care about these things??? Shouldn't we instead be caring about whether or not everyone is fed, housed, clothed, and healthy...???

I know I wish a lot that you could chill with us and eat snacks and sit together with us and talk and have walks and stuff, but... at least for right now, I'm really, really, REALLY glad you're not here. Things here are a bit too weird. Capitalism isn't sustainable and the planet is dying and everyone is at each other's throats, trying desperately to maintain a status quo that doesn't fucking work.

...Sigh... nonetheless, I'll keep trying to find glimmers of hope in small things. I'll keep following the steps needed to try to keep my family safe, at least. What else can I do...?

Still, I think I'm not gonna be too terribly sad when my time in this particular meat-mech is over. I'm tired, and having new adventures in a more peaceful place, maybe even in a body that is built properly and actually works, sounds really fucking neat right about now...

Well. Suppose I'll wrap up today's letter. Maybe I'll play some Chrono Cross for real this time.

Please do your best to stay safe out there, okay? With everything else going on, I don't think I'd be able to withstand it if you suddenly didn't exist anymore. So please... please build yourself that normal life you wanted, instead of running around, antagonizing Cloud and his friends, and trying to break things (or letting a weird copy of you do all those things). Because if you keep doing that stuff... awful things are gonna happen to ya, and... the whole concept “awful things happening to Sephiroth” is getting really super fucking old.

...I don't want to see you getting hurt anymore. So please try really hard to make a different and better choice. Please.

I love you a whole lot. And I'll write again tomorrow.

Your friend, Lumine

[2000sangel]

Matchup???

hihihihi, I’m Gray, yes like the color/colour. I’m Agender(afab) and use any pronouns, I’m ace and on the arospec (I think I’m lithioromantic?) Ive had 3 crushes, 1 fem, 1 nb, 1 male. If you’re doing romantic, I do tend to have a preference towards masc people.

I’m honestly pretty average, I’m very middle energy between chill and energetic, it fluctuates depending on who I’m with. I’m an ISFJ 9w1 if that helps. I am the therapist friend and sometimes the mom friend. I am very much a listener, if someone starts ranting I’ll listen intently through it all even if it’s for 4 hours. I have gotten so many hyperfixations that way. I have generalized anxiety disorder (gad) and im currently being tested for adhd.

I’m fine with romantic or platonic, if you want to you can do both

My hobbies include piano, I’m currently learning Duet from Omori, Art, I usually sketch characters don’t usually do big projects unless it’s for a class, baking, I tend to make brownies and cookies, though I can make other stuff like cake, and this isn’t really a hobby but sleeping, I love sleeping(which is weird because I either sleep really fast or I don’t sleep til 6am)

I like my friends, art, rain, comfy clothes like hoodies and sweaters, music, my favorite artists at the moment are Jack Stauber and Khai Dreams, dreaming, reading, puzzles, sudoku, plushies, sleeping, butterflies, Arctic foxes, kittens, fictional characters, and fandoms, some of those include dhmis, hh, interloper(arg), home safety hotline, etc. Some things I dislike are really tight clothing, being yelled at, harsh criticism with no compliment of what I did do good, being left out, feeling lonely, overthinking, my face, specifically my nose, mouth and forehead, pushing people away, ghosting people, and confrontation is a big one.

If you’re doing romantic, please don’t ship me with Angel Dust, I see him in a very brotherly sense. Similarly with husk.

I have listed characters before that I simp over and usually it’s either stoic and kind of cold or excitable and kinda babygirl vibes (I don’t know how else to describe it) and I already said above that I tend to have a preference towards masc

Something else that I could add is I do tend to have a trope I like? I don’t know if it means anything but I’m in love with rude or some other kind of negative adjective but has a soft spot for that one person and soulmate aus but that’s something else.

-Gray🦋

Hey Gray! So sorry for the delay, your matchup is finally here though! I decided to go with a platonic matchup c:

I match you with...

Charlie!

· You seem like a very wholesome person, so I personally think that Charlie would be a great friend for you, being equally amiable!

· She’s your number one supporter and she tries to help you ease your anxiety on particularly bad days; she reassures you that you don’t need to match her energy all the time, and that it’s okay if you feel anxious, she will try her best to be there for you and help.

· She might need some guidance as well, being in charge of the Hotel and all. This is where your mom friend side comes in; she greatly appreciates that you try to help her back, and that you listen to her in times of need. Sometimes she just needs to let it out to figure out what to do next, and you’re the person she goes to for it.

· You will also get to listen to her rants for hours! No matter what they’re about. They will mostly be about the Hotel and how she can improve the quality of life in it, but she will ask your opinions on it as well, and occasionally rant about her interests too. She of course loves listening to you as well, so don’t hesitate to rant back!

· Charlie loves that you like sketching, because she loves drawing too! You show each other what you make and she’s so happy to be sharing a hobby with you, where you can tell each other what you like about the other’s art and point out where to improve if needed. I feel like it’s more about the first thing though, as you both like doing it casually more than anything, so it’s a very positive experience!

· She also likes singing to the tunes of your piano; the others will stop by, mesmerized by your skill and her angelic voice.

· Charlie of course respects all of your dislikes; on your first day at the Hotel you inform her that you dislike tight clothing, and she makes you find a bunch of cosy and oversize clothes on your bed as a way to make you feel comfortable and welcomed.

· She also never makes you feel left out, and always includes you in every activity that she organizes whether it be with the other residents of the Hotel or as just a friend outing or hang out.

· She’s also not a big fan of confrontation, so she gets your dislike for it. If anything, you two can go through it together, and advise the other on how to handle it the best.

· She will also pull you out of your overthinking by coming up with some fun activity to do together; maybe you can give your favorite show a rewatch with her, or you can introduce her to all the plushies that you own- the possibilities are endless!

[dashielldeveron]

I tried to type this ask up when I had just finished the route but I was too emotional and ended up sounding a mess. So now I’ve had time to compose my thoughts and omg. We need to talk about how fucked up the last soulmate troupe got me because holy shit????? U need to pay for ur crimes against me 😭😭😭

spoiler warning for like the entire last chapter of soulmate troupe

first of all I CANT BELIEVE THAT NOT ONLY WAS THERE A SUPER IMMERSIVE REAL WORLD, YOU ALSO CREATE A SUPER IMMERSIVE FAKE DREAM WORLD????? ur brain 🧠🧠🧠🧠 too big too talented. I loved the dream world so muchhh it makes me so excited for that fantasy shinsou ff you mentioned wanting to write especially because fantasy shinsou made me miss the fuck out of soulmate shinsou (AND THAT FEELING GETS SO MUCH WORDE CONSIDERING THE TIMELINE SITUATION SUBPLOT. we will get to it…………..) but back to the fantasy world. I love that we are dango in spirit world it’s so cute 😭😭😭 I have like a little sketch of it done already. Also love how we meet midoriya later so he doesn’t take complete focus immediately and we can get all this lovely world building and he fits into that so naturally!! But when he does show up?? Loved that detailed outfit description u know it’s being drawn up like rn… and I can’t wait to finish it so we can look respectfully at him.

My feelings abt midoriya in this route went through the biggest rollercoaster because he is genuinely crazy I can see why he was quite hard to write like 😭😭😭😭 PLEASE GET THAT MAN A THERAPIST UR MONOLOGUES ABOUT WANTING TO BE LOVED AND WILL CHANGE ANYTHING ABOUT URSELF IS NOT NORMAL. Him in the waterfall was so intense and I really do love that mc is very stubborn and wants him to love her in an authentic way that’s not just a copied from his relationship with uraraka, like he wants him to love her in the right way!!! Healthy!!! That scene made me have kinda mixed feelings about him because although he’s very determined to love reader + insane body he’s also kinda ?? unhinged?? lolol, but I did grow to really really love him, him learning to love the mc not because they’re soulmates and supposed to but actually loving the person was very well done and he’s incredibly understanding about being mcs apprehension to being with him is vvv sweet (especially considering it causes him actual physical pain, to point of literally almost DYING, because reader rejected him so harsh) and his unhingness becomes kinda endearing🤗🤗 when it’s not depersonalizing ( it does really make sense for his character to be kinda crazy tho , being determined to change even the most impossible of situations is like his whole thing, so no wonder afo lit up when mc told him she doesn’t want him. Crazy ass man) . Vice versa reader learning to love him was also incredibly written!!!!! I loved that sun metaphor so much u don’t understand it’s a beautiful way to describe loving him and it fits so well😭😭😭😭😭😭 my heart 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 from wanting nothing to do with him to posting an edit of his nipples ❤️

however. HOWEVER. we do have to address the soulmate timeline situation because how can u wreck me like this 😭😭😭😭😭 WHATS WRONG WITH YOUUUUUUUUUUU WHEN I GOT UP TO THE SCENE WHERE READER FALLS INTO THE POOL AND GETS FLASHES OF THE OTHER ROUTES??? YOU ARE SICK!!! HOW CAN YOU WRITE BEAUTIFUL LITTLE SNIPPETS FROM EACH TIMELINE WHICH ENCAPSULATE THE ORIGINAL ENERGY OF EACH OF THE ROUTES SO WELL. IM SICK. It did not help that when I was up to that part I was already on the fence about midoriya and then I had to miss all the other guys as well 😔😔 (highlights for me was definitely monoma , because omg I miss ur monoma so much seeing him was so cruel…and my interpretation of him being the one to pop the champagne was definitely because it was an event about us….. engagement party…..(( at least in my head lolol)) also really loved shinsous it broke my heart in so many ways… ‘I’ve loved you for so long and I never thought I’d even be allowed to look your way’ I MISS HIM SO BAD. AND THE FACT THAT HE FEELS THE EXACT SAME WAY IN EVERY ROUTE OH MY GOD!! YOU ARE KILLING ME!!!) . Although I missed them all incredibly I think the way the ‘harem’ (lol) was handled with guilt instead of like typical fic harem was so so so good. It’s really a perspective you see addressed in fic like at all but I think readers reaction was incredibly realistic and (as everything u write is) so so so well written, like reader storming into bkgs office to sit on his lap and make out w him IN FONT OF MIDORIYA (also bkg opening his mouth?? He’s so messy 😭😭😭) and then throwing up and passing out on his carpet. it was so sad but also so funny at the same time. And then getting jumped by the whole harem at the end was CRAZYY THE FACT THEY ALL KNEW ( idk how aizawa took the news that in a separate timeline he’d be dating one of his students esp considering how he HATEDDDD it during his route lololol poor guy) but it was well concluded. Mvp shinsou ‘ he’s the only one who loves you enough to let you go’. Kill. Me.

anyway I’m so sorry for the absolute wall of text. I’m no wordsmith so hopefully it wasn’t too painful to get through. I’ll probably have more concise thoughts when I reread this route a million times like a have others, there’s always something that I miss the first time around that I’ll comment on lolol (hopefully wayyyy more short than this )Concluding statement is that I actually fucking loved this fic so much it made me clinically insane. I can’t wait to finish all the little doodles I have sketched up and send them to u. I’m so fucking sad that soulmate troupe is ending because genuinely no fic has fucked me up like that ever in my life, but I’m also so excited to see what you write next so I can be fucked up yet again. And if you ever do return to the series for like any vignettes I’ll scream and cry ❤️

route discussion under the cut!

firstly, i'm sooooooooo relieved that the dream world/reality stuff was clear and made sense. i was worried i was too far up my own ass to see if anything about dream/reality were super baffling!!! we needed to be dango. we needed to be the world's most reluctant catgirl. it's good for the reader character to get to claw into people every once in a while; she needs the stress outlet. and yayyyy yeah we meet midoriya later in the fic......i imagine they started dreaming about the fantasy world on the same night, but they were so physically far apart that they didn't find each other for ages. but lol it must've SUCKED for midoriya lololol bc at least reader gets to wake up with friends, right??? he wakes up, like, three feet in snow, completely alone, near a town he can't recognise, and suddenly there's a DRAGON. i'm interested in looking at him, but i can't guarantee it'll be respectfully 👀👀👀

midoriya's fucked up!!! he's so fucked up!!! and he's so sincere about it!!! yeah and he gets to monologue/ramble a lot, so we hear all this crazy shit....like, dude, i get that one of the minor themes of this route is "to be loved is to be changed," but NOT LIKE THAT, IZUKU. i imagine he's v v unhinged about things bc he's in his head so much and therefore doesn't anyone to say that perhaps are not healthy. however it's v sexy, so for the sake of fiction, i forgive him 💚💚💚

yeahhhh the sun metaphor is a bit of indulgent meta commentary from me, particularly about how it seems like, in some parts of the fandom, talking about him alone, on his own merits, is seen as boring. some people tend to talk about him in comparison with someone else, like bakugou or todoroki. and then!!! the stuff about how we only know about katsudon, the only fact outside of hero pursuit/worship!!! it's another contributing factor to why this route was difficult to write!! bc there's not a whole lot of straight info/facts out there; i ended up rereading a lot of the mange to scrape for his personality traits/mannerisms myself!!! i really think there's a lot to be said about midoriya, especially his self-destructive/-sacrificial impulses (bc he essentially only thinks of himself as Useful, not confident or capable), but he's usually not talked about alone!!! (at least in my experience.) and i think that contributes to him seeming not as interesting--like, we know weird shit about bakugou, like he mountain climbs, goes to bed at 8:30, hates when people smoke--and we don't get weird little details like that for midoriya. we only get, like, hero training stuff. which is NICE, but it's not the whole cow. it's up to us to spruce up our boy 😤

yes yes yes the altar!!! the pool!! the glimpses back to other routes!!!! isn't it nice to feel angst for situations impossible in real life??? angst usually gets to me in fic and i have to be in a mood for it, since it tends to be very realistically written, gut-wrenching subjects like cheating and [realistic] scumbaggery. so lololol i gave myself everything i wanted by having angst that in could no way happen to me IRL, and so it feels good to feel sad about it. i am sick; thank you 🤗🤗 in my head, monoma's champagne stuff was celebration the publication of his first book (bc i have him writing shit and fascinated by storytelling stuff in his route), but engagement party is probably more thematically apt, since it's a public celebration of their relationship lolololol. maybe somehow both :)

and yeahhhhh you can tell how much i miss shinsou by how much i give him to do in this route....which is, like. we have to like midoriya! it's his route! we can't miss this other guy!! but then we do, and we lean into that feeling, and it's horrible :) yes yes yes he's the only one i have absolutely decided feels the same way in every route (other love interests can, of course, but i'll leave that up to individual readers to decide), because that makes it Worse. shinsou is such a lover boy, and i Need Him Expeditiously. "he's the only one who loves you enough to let you go" yessssss bc shinsou would NOT want to give you that option. he's so scared of having you snatched away from him; it's the sad little insecure, selfish part of him that wants to keep you clutched to his chest 💚💚💚 but it's endearing so i'll let it slide

GOD a harem would be so stressful. nice to think about, but stressful. i wouldn't be able to handle it. put aside the romance and psychology for a second. on the simplest, practical level, can you imagine how much food you'd have to cook for all those people? it would be like plannning for christmas dinner all the time: making a lot of food for a lot of people with different tastes, and then you have to make it all at the same time so it hits the table simultaneously??? When I cook, I tend to make enough for like four people MAX, and with this harem, you'd have to make enough food for nine people. yiiiiiikes

and lololol bakugou's like "this might as well happen" when reader starts kissing him. inappropriately enthusiastic acceptance. love that for him. and gosh i hadn't fully thought about how aizawa would process the news in this route!!! gosh!!! he was definitely already thinking of reader as a friend at this point, bc he does NOT want her to call him sensei but just his name...oh gosh. i haven't considered. i must take the time to ponder this......

and don't apologise!!! never apologise!!! i loooooooove your enthusiasm and want to talk about this stuff with you!!!! i love hearing your perspective on things!!!!!!! i am shaping ideas into my next project, buuuuuut i'm hoping you like it just as well!!!!! lololol i think i will have to commit to one love interest though, bc writing a CYOA fic took a lot of out me lol. thaaaaaank you for being so kind!!!!!!! xx.

[granulesofsand]

hi there, just wanted to say i love your page a lot and appreciate all the info you put out. :3

we’re a system of i don’t know how many members, undiagnosed but we’ve been tracking symptoms for years and we got a specialist about a few months ago. i don’t feel like she’s taking us seriously and wanting to move forward with diagnosis, or at the very least treatment. we got an assessment and she says we may have DPDR, but i’ve had day- or week-long blackouts/grayouts and every time i mention them, she sort of glosses over it. i know there’s a possibility we don’t have DID or OSDD but i feel very strongly about it, and i’d like to tell her without being too forceful. do you have any advice? and do you also have advice on tracking alters + switches? much appreciated!

During our system discovery, we kept a notebook. Alters signed off if they could and wanted to, and we wrote everything from research to memories to conversations between us. When we were in a position to talk to our therapist, we handed that over and ran.

Y’all don’t have to do that, but there are a lot of pros to writing it down. A cheap spiral notebook would do it, and you have the benefit of seeing changes in organization and handwriting if those come up.

There are a few tests you can take just be reading the questions yourself. The DES 1 and 2 both have options to fill in bubbles on an internet-accessible device, with 2 being the more relevant version for you. The bottom describes possibilities with your calculated number.

There’s several online versions of the MID that compare your results to those of DID, OSDD-1, and PTSD test takers if you run it with a spreadsheet software. They usually require you type the number in the cell, then map it out in a color titled whatever you put in as ‘client name’. We never could use a cellphone for that, though you can run any Word sheet on the free version.

We use (*cough*) Simply Plural for alter tracking. You make little profiles, only requiring a name or placeholder, and add them to front with a button. You can choose ‘add’ or ‘replace’ as the default button.

Mostly we leave sticky notes for each other with task lists and daily information. We have a journal for therapy (memories, rants, research) and one for communication (conversations, front log, calendar).

Try introducing yourself and asking questions about the others on paper. Possessive switching makes this method look good, but switches that feel more like changing or shifting are more common and also require communication.

Alter-specific memories are common in complex dissociative disorders, and journals allow you to see those different experiences even if you don’t notice switches.

There’s a lot of use for the journals; those little discrepancies add up, and you don’t have to face the others too soon (which is a common phobia in systems with trauma-holding and trauma-free members).

The gathering of evidence makes it harder to turn you away. You can always fall back on the slow unmasking, using plural language and referring to the others. Working through trauma introduces the possible origins of dissociation, and clinicians might believe you more if you start there.

Not every therapist is willing to work with systems, and it’s up to y’all whether you could make progress with someone who isn’t. Therapy is yours, and your therapist should be a stone you can lean on.

If you do stay and don’t work with the system, consider working on that separately and deciding amongst yourselves who goes to each session. You don’t have to do trauma work to work through individual problems, though it is preferable your therapist recognize you as individuals.

And honestly? It’s okay if you don’t show the typical markers or have trauma on hand. If you are a CDD system, the hard parts will come up in time. If not, you can still work on system adaptions and quality of life.

Good luck with presenting your case. I hope your specialist will rise to meet you, but I believe you can find a way no matter how it goes.

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Joseph Burgo, Ph.D

Published: May 11, 2023

In 1942, the psychoanalyst Helene Deutsch published a landmark paper in which she described a particular type of person who relates to the world and to other people in ways that appear normal but who, over time, comes across as inauthentic. “Every attempt to understand the way of feeling and manner of life of this type forces on the observer the inescapable impression that the individual’s whole relationship to life has something about it which is lacking in genuineness and yet outwardly runs along ‘as if’ it were complete.” Hence the term she coined to denote such people—the “As If” Personality.

When these individuals come for therapy, they often appear to engage enthusiastically in the psychotherapeutic process, though over time, no progress is made; a feeling of futility might plague the therapist. The challenge is to recognize and address a fundamental dynamic crippling the work: rather than being used to convey meaning, the words employed by the client instead conceal and ward off an internal truth felt to be intolerable. The personality enacted for the therapist’s benefit embodies a kind of performance, the simulacrum of an actual person with emotions and connections to other people, when in fact, the person feels empty inside and unable to engage authentically with anyone.

In the early years of my practice, one client (a highly intelligent and verbal young man) once asked, “If you tell me what you believe my unconscious is saying based on what you hear, how am I to know if you’re right? How do I know if some other formulation isn’t what’s actually true?” It’s ultimately up to the client to decide whether an intervention is accurate, of course, but this young man couldn’t connect my words with his inner world to assess their accuracy, largely because he relied upon language to obscure rather than to illuminate. He appeared to be a willing client, but the way he communicated instead made sure I’d never get anywhere near him.

As the treatment progressed, he began to offer alternative interpretations to my own. “That’s one way of looking at it,” he might say. “But it could also be …” At that point in my career, I viewed such client-therapist interactions through the lens of dependency and the common defenses against it; I would have pointed out how he was relating me as if we were colleagues or co-therapists and couldn’t allow himself to be a client depending upon me for help. While that formulation is true, I would now add this: while it appeared as if we were engaged in a psychotherapeutic process, he was thwarting my attempts to make contact by substituting an alternative reality for each one that I proposed. Therapy became a competition via language to define what was “true”; he ultimately won that contest and moved on.

Historians of psychoanalytic thought view Deutsch’s formulation of the “As If” Personality as a precursor to our understanding of borderline conditions and pathological narcissism, and my own clinical experience bears that out. The use of language to obscure or annihilate hated truths regularly features in psychotherapy with clients afflicted by disordered personalities; helping them to connect with and tolerate acute psychic pain is a central challenge of this work and means developing a more authentic language connected to emotional truth.

* * *

In my more recent work with gender-distressed youth, I find myself again confronting this disconnect between language and emotion, but it feels less to me about disordered personalities than a social media-induced kind of dissociation. One teenage girl, trans-identified, talks at length about her daily interactions with her mother, her peers at work and at school, but the space between us feels dead. At times, I have a feeling of futility, that if I try to make sense of the actual words she employs and events she describes, we’ll remain stuck in a place without meaning.

Another client, a highly intellectual young man, uses sessions to expatiate on the socio-cultural construction of gender, explains to me why he rejects masculinity and embraces the feminine, but has no connection with his body. He never masturbates and finds his nocturnal emissions to be disturbing. Now and then for reasons that mystify him, he will begin to weep in session. He feels relieved by his tears but has no words to describe what he might be feeling.

Yet another teenage girl, also trans-identified, adamantly insists upon her desire for cross-sex hormones. Like my other two clients, she has no relationship with her body. She spends much of her free time playing video games online, inhabiting her avatar, and interacting with the avatars of other online players she’s never met in real life. The possibility that testosterone will make her sterile or eventually lead her to have a hysterectomy bothers her not at all; she finds the idea of sexual intercourse to be disgusting and has no intention to marry or have children. She has never masturbated and finds the idea “gross.”

Like many young people who survived the lockdown years by going online, these clients have spent so much time inhabiting virtual worlds that they’ve lost connection with what’s visceral, immediate, and real. They live in a realm of imagination where anything is possible, where infinite malleability has taken the place of a physical world with reality-based limitations. By changing your name and your avatar, you can transform yourself into someone entirely new. The laws governing this alternative space give rise to a belief that you can change the very nature of reality simply by describing it in a different way.

The apparent re-creation of reality via language lends an “as if” quality to their personalities. They seem to have an internal psychic life that’s meaningful to them, they appear to have friends and other social relationships, but their emotional lives lack depth. Because their words have become untrustworthy guides to truth, I’ve taken to teaching my clients about how we human beings come to recognize our own feelings as they arise—when it comes to sadness, for example, through the perception of bodily sensations around the eyes, chest, and back of the throat. With the first client I described above, most times when I ask her to move her attention down into her body, she will begin to cry.

For many young people, social media usage has severed the connection between specific words denoting feelings and the visceral indicators that help us to identify those feelings. The signifier has become detached from the signified. As a result, language becomes a disembodied and self-contained set of internal rules and interrelationships without connection to psychic truth and often external reality.

* * *

In our daily interactions with other people, we usually assume that the words they use to communicate accurately represent the meaning they intend to convey; this fundamental assumption underlies all cooperative efforts to engage with other human beings. But in our modern world, it’s increasingly difficult to believe that much of the language exchanged conveys meaning or objective truth, especially in the contentious realm of social media. Like my patients described above, the public language deployed in this space often serves to deny or obscure truth, to replace it with an alternative reality constructed via language. Life on Twitter often boils down to a war of words to determine whose version of “reality” will prevail, a dynamic obscured by the misleading appearance that both sides are using language in the same way.

In her keynote address last month at Genspect’s historic “The Bigger Picture” conference in Ireland, Helen Joyce, author of the book Trans, drew attention to this issue. While proponents of the affirmative care model for gender-distressed youth speak and write in the empirical language of fact-based science, they actually disdain it. Gender ideology is like a cuckoo bird invading the nest of empiricism says Joyce, appropriating its language and apparently respecting its methods while all the while subverting them. Like my long-ago patient who spoke as if he was authentic and in contact while deploying language to obscure truth, the gender ideologues publish studies in professional journals, written in language that appears to respect the empirical method but actually undermines its assumptions and replaces objective reality with their own disembodied version of “truth.”

The work of Jack Turban, for example, relies upon copious footnotes and citations to other studies which, upon closer examination, either have nothing to do with the position he claims they support or directly contradict it. Turban writes as if he were devoted to the scientific method and its standards of proof but actually cares nothing about them. Colin Wright, Jesse Singal, and Leor Sapir have devoted thousands of words to debunking Turban’s claims, highlighting his factual errors and misleading citations; for those of us firmly rooted in reality, their efforts are crucial, but for Turban and his acolytes, they are irrelevant. Gender ideologues only pretend to care about empiricism, mimicking its techniques for understanding objective reality; what they really intend is to replace immutable facts and objectivity with their own subjective version of the truth.

This dynamic reflects core tenets of post-modern thought and critical theory, where so-called reality is supposedly determined by the discourse around it, and whoever controls that discourse has the power to determine what counts as “true.” While it appears as if gender ideologues are engaged in good faith debate over what scientific studies can tell us about, say, the reality of biological sex, their position really boils down to “because we say so.” They amass flawed and flimsy studies published in professional journals and devote entire books to “proving” sex actually occurs along a spectrum of possible expressions, all in order to control the discourse around the nature of sex. Objective truth is irrelevant; whoever speaks with the loudest voice gets to decide what is true.

Helen Joyce’s observations were inspired by a philosophy symposium she attended focused on the work of British philosopher Roger Scruton; she was particularly struck by his delineation of two opposing views of human nature that give rise to very different ideas about how a society should be governed. One views human nature as a blank slate and believes it can be improved and eventually perfected; from this perspective we are evolving toward an ideal society. The other, “constrained” by the facts of biology and our evolutionary heritage, believes humans cannot fully transcend their bodies, and society must therefore pass laws and uphold traditions that restrain the more brutal aspects of our nature. The American economist Thomas Sowell believes these conflicting visions characterize the conservative versus progressive debate in the United States.

On a broader level, these opposing views also help us to understand the current battle about sex and gender, especially on social media. On the one side we have proponents of biological reality who hold that facts are facts and sex is real; they believe in the scientific method and esteem empiricism as a mode for apprehending truth. On the other, we have those who behave as if they care about the scientific method, but in fact care only about wielding power.

* * *

Just as Helene Deutsche’s landmark paper led to deeper insights into borderline states and pathological narcissism, recognizing the as if quality of contemporary discourse helps explain why our society exhibits so many features of the Cluster B Personality Disorders. Disordered personalities characteristically display overly emotional and irrational forms of thinking along with an unstable sense of self and its relation to others. As patients, they at first appear to engage in the psychotherapeutic process but remain quietly hostile to the process. They will defend their fragile sense of self in often hostile and verbally abusive ways against attempts by their therapist to illuminate painful psychic truths.

Due in part to the rise of social media and the increasing influence of virtual online spaces, young people today inhabit an as if world that mimics reality but actually denies many hated truths about it—that sex is real, binary, and immutable, for example. Adopt a new avatar or change your pronouns and you can become somebody else, even alter your sex. Your subjective belief about who you are overrides objective truth. And if anyone should challenge your self-image by asserting so-called “facts,” you are justified in weaponizing language and hurling abuse to ensure that objective reality will not prevail. Rage, invective, and crude insults to dehumanize the other are the order of the day.

Welcome to Twitter, a place where daily interactions between two conflicting visions of human nature resemble one prolonged eruption of borderline rage. On one side are those who insist reality must be what they say it is; they feel sorry for themselves and persecuted by those who, on the other side, assault them with facts and arguments about objective reality. It takes a non-defensive therapist with a high tolerance for pain and a strong sense of self to work with disordered personalities, in part because they so often attack your own sense of self-worth when they feel threatened; it’s no wonder that even the rationalists ultimately resort to contempt and abuse as Twitter discourse descends into name-calling on both sides.

How are we to heal a disordered society such as ours? Most of the time, I’m cautiously optimistic that the Colin Wrights and Jesse Singals of the world will eventually prevail and, through dispassionate analysis and assertions of fact, reinforce our connections to objective reality. But sometimes, in the dark of the night, I worry that the proponents of radical subjectivity will win. Like my long-ago patient who defeated my efforts to connect him with psychic truth and who ultimately destroyed his own treatment, they will shout the rest of us down with brutal abuse, in the process annihilating all the glorious achievements of Western Civilization and the Enlightenment.

==

Ideologues like Jack Turban don't post for truth, but for narrative. This is the guy who, like Kendi, blew up his core premise with a single tweet.

Turban's strategy is one he's learned from media on both sides: publish the narrative you want to be true up front (especially in the headline or summary); that's the story the initial wave of your most regular readers will see and retain; when forced to clarify, correct or retract, do so quietly; now you can say it's correct, but you've already convinced your regular readers of the original version.

It's designed to create repeatable memes, with the theater of linking to studies, regardless of whether what he's citing actually says what he claims, or even refutes something else he's already said.