#from my laser eye surgery

[digital999placebo]

ame psycho anon again: just wanted to say you are so right and correct. i made a joke about that exact set up to a friend when we rewatched and then promptly forgot about it apparently. the mental image of alfred hovering a nail gun behind his head is actually fucking killing me lmfao.

its literally them so much.....

[alienaiver]

my visions worsened so much 😭😭😭 the fact that i have to spend money on new glasses again 🥲

[giantkillerjack]

You shouldn't get a wheelchair, walker, cane, shower chair, or any kind of assistive technology mobility aid because then you might become dependent on them. Just like how you also shouldn't get glasses if you have bad eyesight because then you might become dependent on those.

For instance, if you end up stuck using corrective eyewear, you could actually lose your ability to tell what things are even when they are extremely blurry! You need to get used to having migraines from seeing unclearly because if you wear glasses all the time, you are basically giving up!! You don't need to see things coming at you from far away! You just need to get good at dodging, and if you can't, then you have no one to blame but yourself!!

For example, I read a really heart-worming article recently about a girl who was stuck using glasses - just absolutely, tragically trapped in her eyewear from dawn to dusk, even though she was good and never ever complained; and I heard she trained herself to discern the blurry faces of her loved ones with 60% accuracy! - she was even able to walk down the aisle at her wedding WITHOUT forcing the discomfort of seeing a woman in glasses on all her guests!!

Sure, she had to give her vows with a splitting headache, and she couldn't see her husband's expression when he said "I do," but overall, SO inspi-ration-al!!! So up-lifting!!

(She didn't even have to use a seeing eye cane, which would have been the worst-case scenario, obviously, because she worked hard to make sure she looked LESS disabled, not MORE disabled!!! Everyone knows blind people exist solely to be a cautionary tale to sighted people!!)

Also, did you know some people get glasses when they only need them a little bit?? How selfish of them! Sure, there's not a shortage, and an increase in demand would result in overall increased accessibility to glasses--but emotionally it's like taking glasses away from someone who needs them more! After all, if everyone who needed glasses got them, then...... um...... more people would have glasses! Which is probably bad!!!!

I also had a friend who was trapped in glasses who saved up all her money for laser eye surgery, and I don't know why everyone doesn't just do that! Sure, some doctors say some people don't "qualify" and it "won't help" those people, but that's why you can't give up!! You don't want to be one of those people!

After all, what's the worst thing that could happen with an unnecessary laser surgery to the face that comes with crippling debt??? It's worth the risk to gain your FREEDOM back, and I'm so proud of my friend!!

Tragically, she did die later that year while driving Uber and squinting at street signs, but at least now I know my friend is finally free from the shackles of her terrible eyesight. #ripAshley #rippedAshley #justripit 😌😌😌❤😇😇😇

And that's why you shouldn't get used to using a mobility aid!! Because, like glasses, they are inherently embarrassing to be seen with; and - like glasses - it is more noble to suffer silently than to depend on unnatural technologies that force you to rely on them; AND - just like glasses - by abstaining from using them, you DEFINITELY benefit SO many people in tangible life-changing ways!!! (Besides, everyone else will be so much more comfortable if you just look normal! 😊)

I hope you learned something today. 💖

[gay-jesus-probably]

I love the TERFs jumping onto this post to be like "Hey, we don't harrass women who detransition, and we'll prove it by harassing you for being a woman that's detransitioned". Nobody can clown a TERF as well as they clown themselves every time they start talking, it's truly amazing.

Why I will never support the radical feminist movement, as a detransitioning woman.

note: this is not meant to be any sort of hit piece or slander, I respect every feminist, even ones I disagree with. This is just my reasoning for why I do not like the radfem movement.

For a bit of context, I’ve indentified as trans since I was 12. At 18, I’ve decided to live my life as a lesbian woman, and i’ve never been happier with that choice.

Now, being a young trans man, I interacted a lot with pro trans content online (of course I did), and so of course I’ve heard about radical feminism. A passionate branch of feminism that takes a unique approach to women’s rights- deconstructing gender entirely. It sounds wonderful in theory, because of course gender is oppressive, most notably of women. I would know, being one. Even when I was trans I had to worry about being out at night. I even got chased once, and a man attempted to lure me to his truck another time. It’s brutal. But radical feminists devote their activism to ending this in a straightforward, logical way.

So why do I, a woman who has experienced both misogyny and transphobia, not support that? I feel that this is a good question for both trans allies and radfems alike to to ask. Knowledge is power.

Well, I’ll be direct. Radfems are some of the most depraved people i’ve ever met. I know, that sounds like a lot, but there’s no other words I can use that don’t perfectly encapsulate my experience with radfems. It’s depravity.

For weeks, I was harassed by transphobic radfems. Radfems, who are insistent on their love and support for TIFs aka trans men. It’s strange then that they would be so cruel towards one, wouldn’t you say?

Detransition is hard enough. It’s difficult to tell family that you were wrong. It’s difficult to reconnect with my gender. Hell, i prefer the term detrans over cis just because i have such a disconnect from my gender. So why do I have to deal with transphobic radfems sending me gore and death threats?

Thankfully all of the accounts doing this seem to be deleted or repurposed. But it’s only a matter of time until a new account is made just to send me an ask telling me to kill myself or a message about how much of a loser i am.

It’s this reason alone why i’ll never be a radfem. They’re just sick people. They don’t want liberation for women, they just hate trans people. It’s not even thinly veiled, their accounts are fully based around how horrible trans women are.

The truth being, trans women aren’t bad people at all. It’s easy to think they are because the news and media cherry picks some of the worst ones, but every community and minority group has bad people in it. some of the sickest people you could imagine, really. yes, they can be trans. but does being trans make you a sick person? does it turn you into a predator? no, it doesn’t. it just means you’re trans. trans or not, it’s up to men to be mature and take accountability for their own actions that they consciously make. a cis man is as capable to walk into a women’s room as a trans woman is.

if radical feminists cared more about women and detrans women, i could consider getting along with them. but sadly, all these passionate and dedicated feminists care about is hating trans people with a fiery passion. and i’ve been a casualty. it’s very difficult for me to sympathize with radfems when they’ve upset me to the point that they have

let me make it clear that gore and death threats don’t upset me, i’m not easily offended. So it’s not the threats that make me angry. It’s just the principle. The fact that radfems are spending their time scrolling reddit for gore pictures to send to fellow women instead of supporting us makes me SICK. it’s heartbreaking to picture a woman, raped and beaten by her boyfriend, and a radfem standing in front of her, readily available to help, but choosing to yell at a passing detrans woman. It’s really sad.

hopefully those reading this can take my words into consideration and use it to improve yourselves or your community (if you’re a radfem). i love womanhood and being a woman and i would love to share that joy with my sisters, but i just can’t when these issues i’ve experienced are in the back of my mind. I want radical feminism to be a safe space, a place where sisters can go to talk to women, relate to women, cry with and support women. but so far, the only love and support i’ve received has been from the trans community. that speaks volumes.

i am going to post more about my experience with finding my womanhood again in the future, so if you’re a detrans woman yourself, trans ally or not, consider following me :) i’d love to build myself a little community

[frvnkcastles]

ONLY HOPE FOR ME ➵ F. CASTLE

Summary: After you’ve gone through a surgery, Frank is there to support you through the recovery.

Warnings: Mentions of surgery, feminine nicknames, just a brief mention of a shower together, fluff

Word count: 1.3k

Author’s note: This is straight up just me trauma dumping LMFAO but I thought maybe someone else will find themselves in a similar situation and could use something like this. I had to get surgery because of a tumor in my ovaries and I’m currently in the process of recovering and all I want is Frank to be real. GAHHH.

”I’ll be right there when you wake up, okay, sweetheart?”

Those were the words Frank had reassured you with right before you had been taken to the operating room, and you clung onto them like a mantra or a prayer to keep you going. You had never been in a situation like this before, and despite all the calming speeches you had gotten from the surgeon and the anesthesiologist, you were scared. You were nervous. But above all, you were glad that you weren’t alone — you had Frank, and that was giving you all the courage you needed.

You imagined holding his hand when they inserted the cannula, and you pictured his kisses on your forehead when they started giving you oxygen, and when the doctor warned you that the medicine for the pain would make you woozy, you closed your eyes and thought about Frank’s beautiful, beaten face to give you comfort. And thinking about him was how you passed out, without even realizing it.

Hours had passed, but to you, it felt like you had only blinked when you finally opened your eyes again. Everything was blurry and disorienting, and for a moment you thought you were still on the operating table, but as you slowly adjusted to the bright surroundings, you realized that wasn’t possible. No, instead, you were in the recovery room, concealed from prying eyes by white curtains, and your whole body nestled comfortably under the heated blankets.

”Hey, there’s my brave girl”, a familiar, deep voice cut through all the confusion and buzzing in your ears, and immediately laser-focused on him, you rolled your head to the side and found Frank seated next to you, just like he had promised. Your eyes still felt so heavy and difficult to keep open, but you could still see the faint smile directed at you, and a quiet giggle rose up your throat as you lazily gestured at Frank’s nose to brush against him.

”You’re here”, you whispered, almost like you couldn’t believe it, and Frank chuckled.

”Promised ya, didn’t I?” he retorted before taking your hand and giving it a soft caress. ”The doctor was here just a few minutes ago. Said everything went just as planned. You did perfectly, sweetheart”, he continued, and with a bashful smile, you let your eyes close again.

”I didn’t do that much”, you pointed out, and shrugging, Frank shuffled closer to kiss the back of your hand.

”Seems to be like you’re the perfect patient”, he hummed, and you couldn’t help but snicker slightly.

Before you could say anything more, your nurse appeared from around the corner, asking if you were feeling up to eating something. You answered in the affirmative, and as she left to get you a sandwich, you looked back at Frank.

”I hope you know how much it means to me that you’re here”, you murmured, your speech still a little slurred, but Frank didn’t mind. He wasn’t cowering away from this side of you — you had seen him at his absolute worst, so now that it was your turn to be vulnerable, he was honored to be by your side.

He would have told you as much, but your nurse returned with a snack and something to drink, as well as some painkillers, and Frank respectfully moved aside to let her do her thing. Once she had set all the food down, you began to awkwardly inch upwards to sit, and only then you realized how much in pain you were. You grimaced and whimpered as you attempted to sit up, and before the nurse could move a muscle, Frank was up from his chair and letting you put all your weight on his arm so you could comfortably adjust your position. You must have dug your nails into his arm, but he didn’t flinch — something that made the nurse smile as she thanked Frank for the help.

You squeezed your eyes closed and exhaled deeply, trying to breathe through the pain, but as soon as you got your hands on the water brought to you, you downed the painkillers eagerly. Frank watched attentively, back in his chair, a concerned gaze over his dark eyes as he followed your gentle movements to pick apart the sandwich you had in front of you.

”Need any help, just say the word”, Frank assured you with a gravelly tone, and you knew that he would have fed you if you had asked for it. Still, you managed, and simply let your other hand rest in his while you ate.

Once you had eaten and the nurse had helped you to the bathroom, you were officially allowed to go home — on the condition that you wouldn’t be alone for the first 24 hours, and Frank was taking that immensely seriously. He swore to be by your side, and as much was obvious from the get-go.

”You sure you feelin’ okay? You look a little… I dunno. Don’t wanna offend the lady”, Frank cleared his throat while walking you towards the car, his hand gently on your back to support you, your bag slung over his shoulder so you didn’t have to worry about anything extra.

”I’ll be okay, Frank, thank you. Let’s just go home, okay?” you pleaded, and with a curt nod, Frank helped you to the passenger seat before climbing in behind the wheel and starting the car.

”Home it is.”

Needless to say, you were bedridden for the days to come, and Frank wasn’t kidding around about it. He practically carried you to bed when you first got home, and he made sure to fluff your pillows and get you at least two different kinds of drinks to keep you hydrated. When you got hungry, he was happy to help you eat, and when you needed to get up, he was right there to keep you upright. He delivered you your medication right on time, and you weren’t allowed to worry about a thing. When it was time for your first shower, he got undressed with you and made sure to tenderly wash you and take care of you, his calloused fingers carefully peeling the bandages off of your body.

The next problem was falling asleep. You were tired, drained even, but not being allowed to roll on your stomach was a personal level of Hell you hadn’t been looking forward to. You were propped up on several pillows, laying on your back, groaning and complaining and Frank was by your side, drawing soothing patterns on your arm.

”Sleep will come, baby. Just lay here with me, yeah?” he grunted, and supposing you had no other choice, you reached for his hand and squeezed it tight.

You could tell he hesitated, but slowly, he draped an arm over your belly, careful not to put too much weight on you, but simply just aching to hold you and be close to you. He breathed you in and kissed your shoulder softly, and it made you smile.

”Thank you, Frank”, you whispered, and with a quiet sound of disagreement, he lifted his head from his pillow.

”You got nothin’ to thank me for. It’s my pleasure, sweetheart. I like takin’ care o’you. And I’mma do it properly”, he insisted, and as you looked at the sincerity in his eyes, you were mere seconds away from tearing up. Going into the surgery, you had been so anxious, wondering how you’d get by without your family to support you, but turns out, you didn’t need them. You just needed Frank.

”I love you”, you spoke quietly, and for a moment, the two of you just stared into each other’s eyes, nothing but devotion between the two of you.

Slowly, Frank leaned in to give your lips a kiss, sweet but deep. ”I love you, too”, he smiled before kissing your forehead once more, ”now get some sleep, pretty girl so I can look after you again tomorrow.”

[roebeanstalk]

hello hello 💚 super struggling, doing my best to hang in there. sorry for mostly being annoying reblogs and begging posts lately.

I'm flying down to Illinois on Thursday to visit my mom, she had some major eye surgery. she's okay, but I've been struggling with it emotionally on a bunch of levels.

money stuff is also just bleak. I'm nervous about it. bills I owe my roommate for, October rent coming up, keeping myself fed through my snap payment on the eighth.

i keep trying to job hunt, but struggle so hard cause I don't have a car and am a long bus commute from everything. and also just, PTSD both in and out of the workplace. makes it hard. I want to figure out how to approach it better after I'm home from Illinois next week.

gender and identity stuff is like... at it's best and worst. my hormone levels are where they need to be, but I swear my facial hair is darker and coarser and faster growing than it used to be. but it's also my biggest cause of dysphoria so idk... I want to get laser or electrolysis sorted but it can't even be a priority right now.

I'm sluggish and tired cause I'm pretty much only able to eat a meal a day and it's just a variation on eggs and toast.

my head is so tied up with everything. I'm having a hard time responding to people I care about and getting things done.

I'm not giving up, I'm gonna keep going. justttt struggling again and trying to be honest about it

[millerflintstone]

Nothing like having a bad eye to jam up your Saturday.

About a year and a half ago I had very sudden retinal laser eye surgery to fix a tear in my right retina that hadn't caused a detachment yet. I was very lucky. I had been seeing a round dot in my peripheral vision on and off.

After a disappointing appointment with my then eye doctor, I got an appointment at my prior optometrist's office. That doctor referred me to a retinal specialist and he fixed me up. He also told me if I ever saw new floaters or flashers, to let him know immediately.

Yesterday was Juneteenth observed for my job so I was out running errands in the morning. I noticed black spots in my peripheral vision up near the top of my right eye. They were not going away and I had a mini freak out in a grocery store parking lot.

I got it together, continued on to my last errand and called the retinal specialist's office. They let my doctor know and he set me up for a Saturday appointment at another office.

As the day progressed, I started seeing flashing light in my right peripheral vision, too. Didn't matter if the eye was open or closed

My vitreous gel in that eye has pulled away a bit from my retina and there is a small dot of blood back there. No new retinal tear or retinal detachment, but I have a follow up in 2 weeks to make sure things haven't gotten worse. Apparently the vitreous gel detachment thing is just due to aging.

Sigh.

I'm okay for now. Wondering how much longer until I get full on retinal detachment as I age.

[ladamedusoif]

20/20 - no outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader

(gif by @nicolethered)

Summary: After months of pestering from Sarah, Joel finally concedes that he might need to get his eyesight checked and makes an appointment at your optometrist practice. He really doesn’t want glasses, though.

Pairing: No Outbreak!Joel Miller x Optometrist F!Reader

Content/Warnings: MDNI; 18+; not explicit as such but implied; no outbreak AU; Joel and reader are broadly around the same age; fluff; Joel in glasses is his own warning; me making stuff up about eye exams

Word Count: 1600 (this was supposed to be a drabble)

Notes: So @lunapascal and @julesonrecord decided I needed to atone for being incredibly thirsty for the sight of a certain someone putting on a pair of glasses. And voilà, a “glasses are hot” one-shot and my first attempt at Mr Miller.

They say the eyes are the windows to the soul. But they’re also fascinating little machines in their own right, and you should know: you’ve been running your own vision care clinic in Austin for almost twenty years, after qualifying as an optometrist and gaining experience for a couple of years at various chains.

Some people love finding out they’re going to get to wear glasses. Others? Not so much.

Your last customer of the day definitely falls into the latter category. 

“Mr Miller?”

He looks around him in the empty waiting area, sighs, and stands up to join you in the testing suite. He looks like he’s being sent to the rack, not going for a routine eye examination. You introduce yourself and gesture towards the seat in front of your desk.

“So, Mr Miller -”

“Joel.”

“Joel. What brings you to the clinic today? You’re a new customer, have you just moved to the area?”

Joel looks uncomfortable, shifting in the seat. You guess he’s in his early fifties or so, salt-and-pepper hair and a patchy beard. He’s broad, still evidently a strong and well-built man. His denim shirt, embroidered with a logo that reads Miller Family Contractors, fits snugly but perfectly over his frame. 

“No, not new to Austin. Been here my whole life. Just…new to the eye doctor.”

“I see.” You pull up his file on the computer system and note his age. “If you don’t mind me saying, Joel, you’ve done pretty well getting to this stage in life without needing some kind of sight correction. What’s changed?”

He exhales, and for the first time since he sat down he actually makes eye contact with you.

Holy shit. You look at irises and pupils and corneas all damn day. You admire and respect the human eye, but you didn’t think it had the same power of attraction over you. Turns out, it had just been a while since you’d seen eyes as beautiful as his.

Even in the shitty artificial light of the testing suite, you can see that Joel Miller’s eyes are a perfect dark brown: at times like black coffee, at times like fine whiskey, depending on the light. They’re warm and enticing, even without him trying. You notice, too, the laughter lines and wrinkles around those extraordinary eyes - here, despite his stern exterior and manner, is a man who smiles and laughs. Who knows happiness.

“My daughter… she made me. Said she was gettin’ sick of me holdin’ up my phone so I could see the screen, and of missin’ half the stuff in my shows because I was squintin’.”

“Ah, she sounds like a wise person. Well, Joel, let’s get going.”

You conduct the retinal exam and the glaucoma test, Joel flinching as the puffs of air hit each eye. When he almost drags himself off the stool to move over for the pupil reactions and visual acuity testing, you decide to just ask.

“Joel, is everything okay? Are you comfortable with the procedures I’m doing?”

He arranges himself in the chair, his broadness making the equipment look comically small. He flashes you another look with those big brown eyes.

“I…I don’t want glasses.”

It’s not the first time you’ve heard this. “It’s okay, Joel. If you need vision correction we can look at contacts, or even laser surgery if you think that might be an option.”

He grimaces.

“I don’t want pokin’ in my eyes, either. Or lasers pointed at them. Absolutely not.”

You arch an eyebrow. “Well, let’s hope you don’t need glasses, then, Joel Miller.”

You have to get up close to him for parts of the eye test, as normal. To your horror, you realise that every time you do so, you get a surge of desire. He smells of shaved wood, of pine soap, of peppermint, and of leather. You notice the smattering of freckles across the tan skin exposed by the snaps left open on his shirt. You can’t take your own eyes off his hands: big, broad, long, and strong. 

Your mind immediately wanders to thinking about what those hands could do to you. Where they could go that you can’t reach with your own fingers, how they’d feel against your skin, reaching for you, groping at your tits as you - 

You clear your throat and turn back to the lens unit, away from Joel, lest he see how flustered you are becoming. He’s got a daughter, you remind yourself. He’s got a wife, or a partner.

“Everythin’ okay?”

“Sure, yes, fine, Joel. Sorry, just trying a new lens combination.”

***

Of course he needs glasses. It’s not a very strong prescription, but he seems crestfallen as you talk him through it.

“Joel, I don’t want to be condescending but glasses are a minor hardship when you think of being able to see clearly again.”

For the first time, he cracks a smile. “I know, I know. I just - I dunno. I feel like I’m an old man now, with my glasses and my stiff knees and my tight back. That’s why I didn’t want them, I - vanity, I guess. Didn’t want to admit I was old.”

You smile in return, noting how kind and warm his expression was. “You’re not old, Joel. You look great.”

That was unprofessional.

He blushes. “Until I put the specs on, that is.”

You point to yourself. “I’m wearing contacts today so it’s easier for me to do my job, but in my downtime - I’m glasses all the way.”

He scoffs. “Different for you, though, you’d look pretty no matter what.” 

“Pretty?” 

Joel looks up at you from under his lashes. “I mean…yeah, you are. Probably even prettier in your glasses, too.”

It’s your turn for the heat to rise to your cheeks, but you can’t help smiling. “Let’s just double-check the last of the personal contact details before we go look at some frames. Says here your emergency contact is Sarah Miller but there’s no description of your relationship - is she your wi-“

“Daughter. Sarah’s my adult daughter. No wife, no girlfriend.”

You try not to smile too obviously. “My emergency contact is my younger sister. Same reason.”

As you print out Joel’s new prescription, there’s a knock on the door - Meghan, your assistant who usually looks after customers when they choose their frames.

“It’s closing time… you want me to stay late?”

You shake your head. “Of course not, Meghan. I think I’ll be able to help Mr Miller choose his new frames. If that’s okay with you, Joel?”

He smiles and turns to Meghan. “I think I’m in good hands.”

***

Joel studies the selection of frames on display in the main public area of the clinic, looking completely overwhelmed. He turns to you, shrugging helplessly.

“I don’t even know where to start. What would you suggest? You’re the expert.”

You move closer to study his features, taking in the size and shape of his face, the firm set of his jaw, the strong line of his nose, the softness of his lips. 

Fuck, this is a beautiful man.

You catch your breath momentarily. “Many men who don’t want glasses choose the invisible frames, like these.” You hold up a pair of the lightweight style, placing them gingerly on Joel’s handsome face.

He studies himself in the mirror. “Not bad. Can’t even tell.”

“If I might suggest something, though?”

He nods. “You’re the expert, like I said.”

“I think your features could carry something a little stronger. More definite, more distinguished. Can I show you?”

You pick a couple of acetate frames from the rack, one in a dark caramel brown, the other in a sort of charcoal grey. You hold them out to Joel. 

He wavers, and settles on the caramel pair. You watch as he examines the frames, before gently putting them on.

That’s when you give yourself away. The sight of that man putting on those glasses is so devastatingly sexy that you let out a tiny moan. Joel turns, the frames beautifully complementing his colouring and the darkness of his eyes, and it’s all you can do not to moan again.

“You okay?”

“I’m…I’m fine. You just look…very…”

He moves closer, a little smile on his face. “You sayin’ the glasses are doin’ it for you?”

You nod. “That pair, yes. Yes, I think they might be. I’m sorry, this is horribly unprofessional of me.”

He grins. “Can you explain what it is you like about them?”

You swallow hard, turning him to see himself alongside you in a mirror. “They’re stylish. They are strong. They’re distinguished. They’re very…masculine.” You let the next words slip before you can stop yourself. “In other words, they’re very you.”

Joel turns his back to the mirror, focusing on you. “Only because you found them for me. I’d never have tried somethin’ like this.”

“You glad you did?”

“I am. And I’m glad I came in to get my old eyes checked out by the prettiest optometrist in all Texas.” 

You laugh, and he catches your hand to pull you in. Your fingers rest lightly on the broad expanse of his chest, feeling the taut denim underneath. You look at him expectantly.

“I know this is probably mighty unprofessional, but…”

You nod. “But I’ve already gone over the line, so…”

Joel leans in, frames still on, and kisses you: hot, hungry, deeply. You wrap your arms around the back of his neck, returning his kiss with the same intensity. When you break away, you take his hand and lead him back towards the testing suite.

“More tests, darlin’?”

You arch an eyebrow as you pull him inside and close the door. “I suspect you’ll pass these with flying colours, Joel Miller. You don’t need 20/20 vision for what I’ve got in mind.”

[tirfpikachu]

this screenshot from another post actually really hit me hard

trying to make body dysphoria seem inherently worse than body dysmorphia is actually cruel. as someone who developed extremely severe body dysmorphia before dysphoria, i can tell you it's the #1 reason i started hating and harming myself and wanting to die at a young age. i would've 1000% gotten extreme facial plastic surgery to "fix" myself. and while for some it's their road to happiness, if i had it... it personally would've locked me into this fake version of myself, forever wearing a mask. and whenever i'd see someone looking like my past self, a haunting feeling would've come over me. and yet society was encouraging me to "fix" my perceived flaws. it was insanely normalized. it was seen as almost self-care, and a way to better my chances in life as a "prettier" woman. it really fucked me up. you CANNOT look me in the eyes and say shit like "women just want to xyz bc of beauty standards, it's not the same as my much worse severely debilitating dysphoria" without telling my younger self and other young girls that her life-threatening suffering wasn't bad enough, wasn't painful enough, wasn't as bad as anything a trans person goes through. it assumes so fucking much about dysmorphic people. don't brush us off so easily. don't put yourself as inherently in a worse situation when societal misogyny costs real lives. especially since for me, it came from initial bullying at a young age, like many other girls who hate their own bodies & faces. stop belittling our pain.

my dysphoria was very debilitating too, and made me a trans activist for life. but it did come with risks. i developed reverse dysphoria quite quickly after i started growing stubble, and now i'm stuck with that painful dysphoria until i can get expensive laser hair removal. if this is how transfems feel like about their own stubble, holy shit... i'm so fucking sorry. that's a truly horrible feeling. what i can tell you though, is that this is actually a cousin sensation to dysmorphia. dysmorphia & dysphoria aren't as separated as y'all might want them to be, which would make things must simpler ofc. but it's the feeling of visceral disgust, of your body not being good enough, not being you enough. that sucks to think about; we don't want to empower the transphobic crowd into thinking they can magically fix us all. and so, many activists and dysphoric people try to compensate by portraying them as experiences that are completely foreign to one another. as never being related or feeling similar at all, ever. but the thing is, as a previously chronically dysphoric & dysmorphic detrans chick, i can tell you first-hand that it doesn't help anyone to pretend that these aren't often comorbid disorders, and that they actually really do feel similar. and that's okay! no one should take all your treatment options away just because of that. that would be shitty, transphobic, and honestly ableist. but we gotta encourage ppl & their doctors to do due diligence (which my doctor and trans community didn't) and be open to everybody about the risk of regret, of reverse dysphoria, of things not working out the way we think they will. because all that at the very least makes detransitions less painful, even if you personally never detransition. detransitions can lead to very extreme self-hatred, and all the unfortunate consequences of self-hatred. it is a very vulnerable place to be in, and we want to prevent harm. more and more folks are detransitioning because of a lack of information and a focus on celebrating someone's transition early instead of giving proper information. the same should be done with dysmorphic folks - i am both a post-dysphoric and post-dysmorphic person. but many dysmorphic people cannot function without getting surgeries.

and while this is honestly tragic, as anyone needing to go under the knife at all is tragic in a sense... sometimes it is the only life-saving treatment option for the person. for me, i feel so fucking proud of my survival despite years of debilitating disgust at myself, my body and my face. both in a dysphoric and dysmorphic way. but i do not look down on anyone who did have to go through surgeries. i'm just happy to see them smile and feel good about themselves, honestly. but it is a bit bittersweet. how was it, before surgeries, to be dysphoric? to be dysmorphic? i want to read more stories from those eras. how did people find inner peace? did they, in the end? how many didn't survive? what did they have to say? i feel a strange sense of yearning, sometimes. heteropatriarchal society is really weird. it triggers dysmorphia in so many young girls & transmascs. it can also trigger temporary dysphoria in some people, and even permanent dysphoria. and just because certain societal things are a factor in your dysphoria doesn't mean you're lesser for it either - your suffering matters. just like dysmorphic suffering. hating yourself at all is so fucking painful. i wouldn't wish it on my worse enemy, or i'd at least strongly hesitate and they'd need to be an actual monster to deserve it. i love dysphoric & dysmorphic people so fucking much. i don't want us to fight eachother, or shame eachother for seeking treatments when things become too much for us to bear. we need to uplift one another. do everything we can to lessen these feelings in ourselves, of course, as a community of people who hate their bodies and place in society. but if someone chooses to cross over, to take hormones, to have surgeries... i just don't want them to regret it, that's all. and if they don't? if they're happy? i would hug them and breathe a sigh of relief as well. i'd feel bittersweet, almost nostalgic, because i've been there. people who haven't been severely dysphoric or dysmorphic don't fucking understand. hopefully they never will.

[notjuststardust]

Trellises Lawxchronic pain reader

Reader is having a low spoons and high pain day and doctor Law comes to the rescue! Pure fluff. This is self-indulgent, specifically catered toward those with scoliosis but I thought it was cute so I wanted to share! Just Law and reader being good friends who have eyes for eachother is all.

TW: None

The minute you started scribbling with your non dominant hand Law knew something was wrong. You’d been quiet, a trait normally foreign to your bubbly soft natured self. Your silence could mean an array of things but he had a list of possibilities. 

 He saw your sunken lids, how they dragged the life from your plump cheekbones all the way down to the blank stare you have the work in front of you. If you were menstruating you’d be snacking and there was nothing in your mouth other than the kiss of teeth.

 Propping chin in hand Law tilts his head in your direction, eyes lasered in on your shoulder at rest. A shoulder you had constant trouble with due to surgeries as a kid. “I didn’t know you were left handed.” He comments, not even trying to feign the sarcasm dripping from his tongue. Slowly, you looked up at him through lowered lashes (y/e/c) eyes void of mischief.

 “I’m not.” He puffs out a dwarfed scoff, standing from his chair to ease over to your end. 

 “Have you been sleeping?” He furthers, stalking over to face you, brows propped but you back away from his nearing inquisition. These conversations were never fun.

 “Yes.” You answer, evading his eyes to deter his advance but your Captain isn’t allowing that, at least not today and you could tell by the annoyed jut of his lip when he reigned to continue. “6 hours. Yes, I’m drinking water. No, I have not pooped. I took 600 mg’s of ibuprofen and the pain level is an 8 out of 10.” You decide to relent and Law is forced to shut his gaping mouth.

 You’d definitely prepared that beforehand. His shoulders slack, drawing toward the medicine cabinet in the far corner. He knows better than to ask why you hadn’t brought it up earlier, you just didn’t want to ‘bother’ him. He could argue but you were past the point of reason and teetering on the edge of crying out.

 Now wasn’t the time for one of his ‘talks’.

 Propping open the medicine cabinet he searches, body turned to watch in case there was something else you’d been hiding. He flicks through your prescriptions once, twice, three times before he concludes the prescription you needed wasn’t here.

 Great.

 “Did you put in a refill request?” Your captain drags a hand over his face, pinching the square of his jaw when he peers over at you hunched at his desk. You just stare at him before flitting your gaze toward the door, heaving a sigh and shaking your head. 

 “I can’t work if I’m on the muscle relaxers. I just wanted pain meds.” You mutter as Law barely restrains an annoyed growl. Even so his teeth grind making you turn away just enough to inform him you were appeasing him instead of advocating.

 “That’s the whole point of them. It calms the muscle to make the inflammation go down,” he explains despite your medical knowledge on this matter, after all you had this conversation over a year ago but you were stubborn as a mule when it came to making yourself useful. “I need my scribe in working condition.” He grumbles, pulling a tube of pain reliever from your cubby. 

 You quiet as he approaches, aware that he’s never referred to you as ‘his scribe’ in his entire life, it was silent endearment to persuade you to be honest. Yet you weren’t sure if you had the heart to be right now.

 “I am working though.” You twirl your pen in your non dominant hand, trying and failing to demonstrate the lovely penmanship he so admired you for. Letting out a frustrated sigh Law plucks the utensil from your hand and pops it down into his pen jar, gloving up as if he’s about ready for surgery as he cautiously eyes you over.

 You were delicate now. Robbed of good rest and swollen with inflammation however if he didn’t step into his role you’d give until your altar was empty of offerings.

 He wasn’t your God but you had always served him and everyone else around you as greater than yourself. This was no different and he couldn’t bare to do nothing about it this time

 “Consider yourself on temporary leave then.” He fails to break eye contact in time, but he catches the heartbreak in his peripherals, raw and dependent on him taking it back.

 “Law, that’s not fair and you know it-“ you lunge to a stand before your hand shields your shoulder, breaking that confidence. 

 “And you think working yourself to death is?” He forwards you, body pressuring you back into an appeasing sit in your chair. You don’t answer but your eyes glass and lets his fingers brush your hair over the opposing shoulder and tease your shirt so he can further inspect. “How long?” He asks though he doesn’t have to. It’s swollen like a balloon, redness spreading up the blade of your shoulder to the edge of your neck. He wants you to say it. To admit you’ve been purposefully neglecting yourself to care for everyone else but instead you give a pathetic sniffle before you quiver and break into sobs. Tears trickle down your cheeks and his irritants dissipates into a pool of sympathy only reserved for you.

 He tries to get out something, anything that would salve the emotional strain you had been burdened over but no amount of empathy can. He does not have the gift of easing your worries like you do him. If anything his words tend to be a blade to an already festering wound whilst yours carry a melodic ease to even his most persistent emotional aches. You could spin corpses back to life with your words, mold graves into gardens but he only had his hands.

So instead he rolls the numbing cream into the ball of your shoulder with soft thumbs, allowing you the courtesy of a moment to yourself despite the exposition of feelings you’d much rather keep locked up.

 It wasn’t your fault that a life saving surgery had left you on the verge of crippling and selfishly, he’d much rather this than your corpse. You’d only been 12 when your spine had started easing further and further into your heart, putting tension against the much needed organ. Metal had been fused into the bones of your spine to keep it straight and that pressure left a considerable strain on your lumbar. Not only that but there was no saving the oblong shift of your shoulders and hips due to the scoliosis.

 With that considered you still wanted to be involved, helpful to Law and the crew when your pain had started in the following years. You were a writer and you refused to live your life only in the pages of stories spun with sweet words. You wanted to experience life and even your captain, persistent and logistic as he was, hadn't been able to deter you from your quest.

 You quiet at his silent affection, thinking it nothing more than something he has to do for his job but Law knows its more than that. He could have just tossed you the gloves and allowed you to apply the ointment yourself but he wanted to be of service as more then a doctor if even for a moment. He wanted to be of comfort and it must have worked because your tears quieted and you relaxed into his touch.

 After all if he voiced that he could have made you do it you would have because you don’t accept outside help.

 Hence why any accommodations he had strung for you in the Polar Tang went among the unsaids in the submarine. Normal chairs bothered you yet you had one so Law had instructed Bepo to test it. The thing shattered into broken splintered in minutes and Law hiding behind the guise of a safety check had promised to get you another. What came in the mail though was not a normal chair though. The thing was practically a throne, spun together by chiropractic plush to nurture your back when you used it. When the complexities were mentioned Law had just said it was on sale. You hadn’t questioned it further. After that he had allowed Shachi and Penguin access to your bathroom where they practically made the shower go up in smoke, since it now needed repairs. Law had a sit down shower with a sneaky call button in case you may ever need it. The subtleties did not go so unnoticed with that one and Law had to then install special buttons to all bathrooms from the suggestion of Penguin and Shachi.

 You had always had suspicions but never proof and you were smarter then to question your captain based on pure assumption.

 “I’ll call in your refill. The earliest it will be here is tomorrow-” Your stillness hushes him, the weight of your cheek just a little too heavy against his knuckles as a little snore slips between your lips. He blinks, leaning up and over to see your mouth wide open and teary eyes slid shut. An impressed ‘hmm’ whisps between his teeth, a grin imperceptible etching into his lips. That's until he realizes if he moves an inch yu’ll wake. He ponders the notion of moving anyway and getting you comfortable on a cot but decides otherwise when he realizes the peace settled on your face.In the end he stays. 1 hour. Then 2 and footsteps explode down the hallway like thunder, the office door squealing open with Shachi in its mirror.

 “Captain come on! Dinners read-” He pales like a corpse when Law glares death his way, nervously playing with his fingers as Penguin clops in behind him laughing obnoxiously about God knows what until he too mutes. They both stare at your compromising position, looking to eachother in silent laughter. Well, it wouldn’t have been compromising if it wasn’t you.

 There's drool all over Law’s hand, he’s shimmying like some old man trying to get his back ache to go away. Nonetheless he's frozen, steely eyes set in a glacial glare as he quiets out an annoyed sigh. His crewmmates nonsense quiets.”Oh, so she finally told you.” Shachi hums, quarreling with a grin but the intonation gives away his cheekiness.

 “Not necessarily,” Law groans, swallowing a blush. “You all knew?” He quirks a curious brow.

 “Wild guess.” Penguin hums with an easy shrug, forcing an awkward smile.

 “You know that probably even worse for her back, right?” Shachi comments, pointing a finger in his sleeping crewmates direction. Law just gawks, he hadn’t thought your crumple of sleep would leave you feeling worse upon wakeness then none at all. Clearing his throat he scoops his fingers under and up your armpits trying to scoop you safely into his arms. 

 “Of course I knew that-” Law quiets his rambling when you spurt out a snort. You release a gargantuan yawn. He points and shooes his crewmates that scramble into the hallway but its too late. Your lids are shot open as you smack your lips like a child. Shachi and Penguin make a break for it.

 “Know what?” You babble out, eyes alight with the familiar childlike mischief. Sleep had refreshed you well. He threads a rough hand through his hair, a heavy sigh slipping.

 “You were sleeping in a position that could compromise your back. I was trying to move you.” He removes the hand resting upon your cheek, trying to discard the soaked glove without your notice. “You really need to be more careful, he scolds when he sees you give him a dopey grin, ignoring his feign of casuality. You look more than stupid, like there are no thoughts behind your eyes, only joy at the mere prospect that his hunchback was caused by holding you up. You’re satisfied as a cat that's knocked over a glass and usually that’d only egg him on but it only forced him to sigh.

 At least you weren’t crying anymore. Your smugness couldn’t taint that.

“Did I drool?” 

 “Immensely.” He rolls his eyes, tossing the glove into the trash as you cackle.

 “You been standing there long?” You further, chaos winding you into a smile of all teeth, dimples peeking out like the sun through a rainy storm.

 “Long enough.” He groans lightly, a hint of a smirk on his face as he returns your prescription to the medicine cabinet. Then you look toward the clock and realize its been 2 hours. You bark out a laugh, nearly falling out of the office chair.

 “You didn’t move for 2 hours?” You snicker wildly and Law plops back into his chair, fingers caging away the blush pelting his cheeks as he looks away to mask embarrassment. “I have slept through raids before, Law.”

 “Shut up.” He grumbles, distracting himself with undone paperwork on his desk. “I moved my legs.”

 “You’re such a liar.” You shout with glee, lunging into a stand without help as you sniff the air. “Dinner time!” You lean over his desk just to spite him, sticking your tongue out before you hobble toward the door.

 “You’re still on temporary leave.” He reminds you with a stern glare, laced with affection at your silliness. He loathes becoming permeable but its far too comfortable when it's with you. You turn to look back at him as if contemplating taking his statement as a personal bullet but don’t, readjusting your back.

 “Uh-huh, doesn’t matter. I’ll never let you live it down!” You tease, skipping down the hallway as if you weren’t just in excruciating pain. You’re definitely about to tattle like some little kid and he is going to tolerate it until you inevitably find some other thing he does more strange.

 In summary, unless he told you otherwise (or you grew less dense), his little bits of affection would be the running joke of the dinner table.

[abbeyofcyn]

I hope you don't mind me sending the fanfiction through asks! I didn't know about posting it but wanted to share anyway!

-------

Two hours, it barely felt that way, but two hours have passed.

"Want me to take over?" Raph questioned, likely to the other two than to Leo, "Both of you must be tired."

Followed by an "I'm fine, thank you!" and "Just a snack break!"

Leo could barely hear his surroundings, eyes laser focused on the little parasite that had kept his brother in such a state for so long. It was almost over... They'd be free from this nightmare.

"Brain surgery takes four to five hours, but since I didn't have to cut him open we should be done soon," Leo mentioned, mostly to soothe their worries. Maybe also to calm himself down.

"How are you feeling, buddy?"

"Tired, cold... And thirsty." There was a weight to his voice, one Leo wouldn't usually hear from Donnie. "And ready for this to be- ACK!"

"Huh? You shouldn't be able to feel-" Leo's explanation was quickly interrupted by interjections.

"Sensei! His eye!"

"It hurts..."

"Leo!"

He wasn't giving up. "It's almost out!"

"It hurts, it hurts, it HURTS-"

"He's in pain!"

And Leo wanted his brother back. "Hold him down!"

Leo's eyes narrowed in focus, zeroing in on the problem. Keep a cool and steady head, calm down, and assess the situation, "It's trying to grab onto anything within reach."

"Leo! Just hurry up!"

Donnie thrashed. He was moving, the parasite was forcing him to jolt and thrash and neither the metal extensions nor Casey were strong enough. "Shit! Hold him!"

Raph rushed forward, hand on his plastron that moved to his shell. That soft shell. No, Raph!

Donnie's maw drew open, teeth bared and primed. Leo and Raph barely had time to register what it meant, barely had time to react.

"Raph!"

The maw came down on metal; SHELLDON's arm, but it was only a temporary fix.

Too much at once, too little time to think.

Come on, Leo! You have your quick thinking and Donnie's big brain! You're not losing your brother. You AREN'T, you CAN'T.

Pull yourself TOGETHER!

His eyes narrowed at the parasite. It thrashed, trying to grab onto his gloved arm but remain rooted to his brain. It wanted something organic.

Dread settled in Leo's stomach, but his mind was made.

It wants a host. I'll give it one.

He pulled the scalpel away from the portal, gripping the metal tight in his hands. It might just be the last thing he'll feel in that arm, he cherished the feeling. He'll fix it.

"Casey..."

He let his ninpo flood into the scalpel, feeling the light metal shift into the familiar weight of his katana. It wasn't about him.

"I need you to take this."

There wasn't time to hesitate. Not when his FAMILY was at stake. Leo handed Casey the sword.

"And when you see it."

With his teeth, he tore the glove off his hand. He let himself cherish the cool air and breeze, knowing it would be his last.

"I need you to cut off my other arm."

Oh man oh man oh man oh man

This is so good???? I love your writing and the colours you chose for their texts and idk why I was wondering why his text was purple as if I don't even know my own comic so it was extra cool to see it change to blue and aaaaaah

[lakesbian]

“Even my most loyal. Bitch of a thing to do. Not the actual procedure of sticking the things inside their heads. After the first twenty, I could do the surgeries with my eyes closed. Literally. I actually did a few that way.”

i'm sure there's at least some of it out there that i'm not aware of, but worm is genuinely the only superpowered media i can think of off the top of my head where technology-based superpowers feel this meaningful. tinkers in worm aren't just people toting around sci-fi weapons that feel ubiquitous in the setting, they're the only people who have those weapons, and they have them because they're breaking the rules for how technology should work on a very fundamental and unnerving level. i would like to hear someone with more complete knowledge of the genre at large talk about this (@artbyblastweave ?) because something about how tinkers are written in worm feels special to me. like, from my not-very-into-cape-media PoV it feels like in most other works people w/ the tech-based powers aren't explicitly doing anything special--it's typically presented as if what they're doing is fully plausible within the normal bounds of the universe in question, and their reliance on it might even make them less interesting or more vulnerable than people with "real" superpowers. batman, iron man, etc. and worm sidesteps this entirely by not only giving tinkers extremely inventive, iconic, and powerful toolkits, but by constantly casually reinforcing that what they're able to do is just as unnatural as someone shapeshifting or shooting lasers. bakuda doing brain surgery with her eyes closed! riley making functioning blood replacement out of shit she scrounged up in her kitchen! it doesn't matter if you take the tech away, because their schtick as a cape isn't having the money to put together a purportedly-regular power suit or bag of gadgets, it's having the ability to build a bomb with a couple of nails and the lint in their pocket in the 5 minutes someones back was turned. i simply cannot go back to media where people with gadget-based cape identities don't textually have inhuman capabilities with technology after reading worm, because worm just Does It Better

[dr-spectre]

Gamers since its Halloween I wanna briefly talk about my biggest guilty pleasure ever!!!

And you guys aren't gonna believe it...

It's.... it's Saw.

Yeah the fucking Splatoon guy who loves girlypop Idols and cute shit is also into one of the most gory and brutal franchises of all time. I have range!!!

I love all of these movies, Saw 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 , 6, 7/3D/The Final Chapter, Jigsaw, Spiral and Saw X.

These movies are the equivalent of junk food. It's like each Saw movie is a different flavour of a doughnut you would get at a 7/11. Sure, there are WAY BETTER doughnuts out there and it's not healthy for you, but MY GOD! THOSE DOUGHNUTS BE HITTING DIFFERENT WHEN YOU'RE IN THE MOOD FOR THEM!!!

Saw 1 to 3 I would actually consider good to decent movies. I would recommend the first one to most people.

Saw 4 and 5 are... boring. They got some good traps but they are just.... boring!!!!

Saw 6? That's pretty good... I like the unique angle they took with the criticism of the American healthcare system.

Saw 7.... you wanna hear a hot take? I enjoy that one. It's so bad that it's good in my eyes. It's just pure trash that it rolls back around to being enjoyable.

Jigsaw, that movie sucks I'm sorry HAHAHA! NO STYLE! NO GOOD TRAPS! PLOT HOLES ALL OVER THE PLACE! That movie was not made with love AT ALL!!! But... I do like that giant spiral trap... and the laser collars are fucking dumb as hell but I love em.

Spiral? Eeeeeeeehhhhhhhhhhh.... I meannnnn.... it's got some decent traps? The uh... the finger trap was cool! The... train one! I like that one... um.... the hot wax one is dumb but the concept is fine enough I guess? The puppet trap with the blood needles is one of the only traps I can't watch because sucking blood with needles makes me lightheaded. The other trap that i cant watch is The Rack. (Also, don't fucking hire Chris Rock in any serious role ever again.)

Saw X... I like that one. It truly felt like a return to the series, even down to the fucking ASPECT RATIO they filmed in!!! Thats good attention to detail!!! And the traps were actually good and memorable, well, most of them. Seeing John Kramer back as the focus is awesome too and Amanda... it was so nice seeing her again.

So yeah, I don't have much to say because my Saw fixation only appears once in a blue moon so I dont remember much. But when it strikes? Oh it STRIKES ALRIGHT!

Only watch Saw 1 and MAYBE Saw 2 and 3 if you're curious. These movies aren't for most people and I don't recommend it to everyone.

Also, I love Billy. He's such a silly guy. I love how he rides in with his tricycle!!!!

I love him in Saw X where he delivered the surgery tools so that a man can cut open his brain! And in Saw 4 where his head became a shotgun!!! And in Saw 1 where he rides in after a traumatised woman cuts open a person's stomach to stop their skull from being utterly destroyed!!! And in Saw 2 where he laughs at some police officers getting killed by a set of deadly stairs and an electric fence. And in Jigsaw where he watches people getting hanged!!!! And in Saw 6 where he swoops in from a wire around his neck and laughs at a guy who has to choose who's he gonna let die. And in Saw 7 where he crashes through a window in a cage to tell a guy to stab himself with spikes to stop a woman from getting impaled on a giant wheel!!!

[pridoo]

Kinda taking a sick leave bc I'm currently recovering from eye surgery! I went and got laser because I'm finally done with glasses and even though I hope I would already see perfectly, it's still a massive improvement to my previous condition 🥹 everything is still a bit hazy but I feel like it's gradually wearing off for a new, clear world

[medstudentblues]

good evening!!! i just did my workout at home tonight, so i could do laundry at the same time. so far i have cleaned, journaled, and did 1 load. i just came from an OPD duty (8am-5pm, but i was in the hospital from 630am-630pm), and tomorrow i am PM duty. it’s crazy! we finished seeing patients by 330pm but we had to stay until 630pm because there were still some patients who needed laser surgery in the eye center. idk what a day off feels like. does it get better? i hope it gets better. doing laundry / cleaning feels like a reset. i actually feel good now. perhaps later i’ll walk my dog even though it’s late because the two of us deserve it.

[beachyserasims]

10 facts about me

I was tagged by the amazing and wonderful @shesthespinstersimmer (thank you so much, I loved learning more about you, I feel we are similar in a lot of ways ♡)

Here we go!

1: I'm a Leo ♌️ 🦁 my bday was actually on the 1st 🎉

2: I have my diploma for environmental assessment and restoration... and it makes a very nice piece of wall art 😅

3: I'm 50% Hungarian from my gpa and gma

4: I have MDD so I'm always a sad girl 💙 ( I got it from my mama)

5: I'm a stoner 🌿🌿💨💨

6: I am autistic but I didn't realize it till after I turned 30, so that attributed to #7 which is that...

7: I have bad social-anxiety that i developed as an adult. My whole life people talked bad about me behind my back and judged me harshly on first impressions. (The uncanny valley is real, and it is lonely)

8: I have 3 furbabes, one chichi and one doxxie, and one tabby kitty 🐕🐕🐈

9: I owned and ran my own online small business for 7 years, making custom resin jewelry. My shop was called Seras Beach, and it's actually the reason i called my tumblr beachysera♡

10: I used to wear glasses but I got laser eye surgery 5 years ago (I swear they are still so fricken sensitive...)

I'll tag @lynzishell , @hannahssimblr , @jayveesim , @dawnvy , @honeyjars-sims , @bakersimmer , @feroshgirlsims , and anyone else who sees this 👀