#i guess i need a support group or a therapist

[dancestamina]

tw ed

____________________________________

I've been smug about being 'totally recovered' from my eating disorder for the past five years, which has been thee most profound relief and life-changing progress for me! cannot be overstated

Unfortunately late last year I lost weight due to stress, and have found that in regaining some of it, I've been tbh triggered

Most troubling to me is that I can use disordered behaviours now (even "successfully" to drop weight, which I couldn't do when my metabolism was rooted) so far without isolating myself from everyone in my life, becoming singularly obsessive or spiralling into a suicidal depression BUT does that mean it's okay?

Probably not! is there any hope for a regular relationship with food? or like is there just no hope for women

[treesbian]

mentally healthy person activities: start sobbing at how difficult you're finding something as simple as changing over laundry

[satuguro]

*ೃ࿐TO FAULT A NET

[ ACT II: A QUESTION OF MORALITY ]

spider-man! ethan landry x black cat! reader

#SYNOPSIS— tara thinks not even a murderer can disturb you, you have no friends and spider-man knows, and your cats like spider-man a little too much.

#CONTAINS— enemies to lovers, slowburn, antihero&vigilante reader, familial issues, gore, blood, murder, death, sexual/suggestive content (in this part & some other parts), reader is overly flirtatious

#AUTHORSNOTE— thank you so much for the support on the first part xoxo

ACT I, ACT II, ACT III, ACT IV, ACT V, EPILOGUE

you shut your book as lecture was concluded, gathering your notebook and notes together and putting them into your bag. your headphones hung around your neck, and in any other day you would’ve put it on and not said a word to anyone, but you were standing next to tara, waiting patiently for her to pack up.

her hands were shaking slightly as she shoved her items into her backpack hurriedly, occasionally dropping pencils. “fuck,” tara muttered under her breath, quickly picking up her dropped pencils and putting them into her bag haphazardly.

“you seem on edge,” you stated dryly, making her huff in frustration. of course, you knew the reason why; there was no need for her to treat you like a therapist and tell you everything.

“that’s one way to put it.” tara sighed as she threw her backpack over her shoulder. she walked alongside you as you made your way towards the exit. “you don’t usually wait for me,” she stated, glancing at you suspiciously, though you were looking ahead of you and not at her.

“i guess this class is finally teaching you something,” you hummed, looking at her from the corner of your eye. she didn’t seem to let it up, still tensed as you sighed, rolling your eyes. “call it a change of heart.” your response didn’t calm her completely, but her shoulders relaxed.

you both passed your professor, who acknowledged your leave with a small, “miss carpenter, miss vaughn,” which you only nodded at. you walked ahead of tara and held the door open for her.

“did you hear about the murders?” tara asked, tilting her head at you as you began to walk. she was probing at you, you knew that, but you knew better than to admit that ‘no, i’m not worried because i steal things to pay rent rather than kill people and i’d rather pay attention to that,’ so you kept it as honest as you could.

“‘course i did. just because i have no friends doesn’t mean i live under a rock, tara,” you teased with a slight smile, making her roll her eyes. she couldn’t even deny it; she of all people knew you kept to yourself. the only time she ever saw you socializing was at parties, flirting with guys and making them believe they were in charge of the situation before you led them upstairs (when you obviously had them wrapped around your finger).

“well, obviously. it’s just.. everyone seems so on edge, and it makes sense!” tara added hurriedly, “i’m not saying it doesn’t! but you look so..”

“so..?” you raised a brow.

“so calm.” tara let out a long sigh, hands holding onto the straps of her backpack. “i don’t know how you do it.”

was she asking you how to stay calm? you blinked, trying to analyze her words in a way you could understand. was she indirectly asking you for advice? “well, this is kind of an atypical situation to stay calm in,” you began, glancing at her, “but i’d say i’m just too spiteful to let anyone other than me influence how i feel. i’m not gonna let some psycho have so much power over me that i can’t live my life, y’know? i've been stressed out enough."

you looked away from tara, only slightly embarrassed at your own words. this was why you had no friends; too much second hand embarrassment. your eyes settled on the pavement ahead of you, tilting your head in interest at the sight of tara’s friend group; her sister, sam, mindy (who you only knew because you had taken a shot with her once) and some other people you didn’t know.

“you give good advice, y/n.” tara said, making you scoff as you raised a hand and waved her compliment away.

“whatever,” you said, managing a small smile her way. turning back to her friends (who were walking closer) you said a quick, “stay safe, tara,” before you walked away, allowing her friend group to walk up to her.

you passed by a brunette boy as you put your headphones on, not bothering to say hello to tara’s group (they were her friends, not yours). but you were too preoccupied with your music to notice that you had passed ethan, who looked back at you as you walked away. he took in your form, how you dressed in strictly black and white clothes yet had a tote bag with a small cat charm on it. he didn’t even get a good look at you, but he found himself watching you walk away.

“dude.” chad nudged his shoulder, breaking him from his stupor. a knowing grin made its way onto his friend's face, one that made ethan’s ears and cheeks burn red.

“don’t say anything.”

“who is she?” chad asked shamelessly loud, ignoring ethan’s groan of embarrassment. his voice broke the conversation the girls were having, making them lean in out of interest.

“literally no one!” ethan exclaimed, silently begging for chad to not make a big deal out of it. he’s been on his ass for ‘not putting himself out there’ and choosing the library life instead. he always told him off for never truly living a life of someone his age.

if only chad knew that ethan had been craving that feeling of living as though he was his age and not some 30 year old man. but after richie’s death and after he basically (almost) cut off his family (not to mention his secret nighttime job as a superhero), he felt as though that was basically impossible. simply put, ethan landry had more important things to focus on rather than worry about living like a college student.

“not really no one,” tara stated, poking her head into the conversation. “that’s y/n vaughn—”

“another side character. see— probably gonna die,” mindy said to her girlfriend, anika, who sighed as she squeezed her hand reassuringly.

“sure, babes.." anika said, "but maybe don’t assume everyone tara talks to is like, cursed or something?”

“i only ever talk to her during my psych class, so don’t worry,” tara huffed, sitting down at a nearby bench. chad wordlessly sat next to her. “i probably haven’t cursed her. besides, she doesn’t seem like the type to be really bothered by that stuff.”

“what does that mean?” ethan asked, sitting next to chad.

“she’s just really straightforward— the nonchalant type, y’know.”

“even more suspicious!” mindy stood up in front of them as though she was ready to give a presentation; which, honestly, she kind of was. a dark look befell her features as she began to talk about the possible suspects, listing off everyone’s name one by one and including one extra; y/n vaughn.

you polished every one of your retractable claws, pulling your lamp over it to allow it to shine brightly. it was razor sharp at this point, as you had been using everything in your power to make them as dangerous to others as possible. your room was boiling hot, and you had opened up the window of your room, silently thankful you had a balcony and not a fire escape. at least then, no psychos could casually climb up to your apartment.

the photo of you and your father was situated on the corner of your table as you worked; you, age only 8, were wearing huge headphones as you sat on your father’s shoulders at a rock concert. it was one of the few photos you had of your dad, and while you didn’t want to think of yourself as a particularly sentimental person, you were probably just in denial. because even as you worked and only saw it in the corner of your eye, you felt that familiar tug of pain in your chest.

if only he knew that you had a deal with an insect themed superhero.

you checked the clock, letting out a sigh upon seeing ‘11:12 am’ flash back at you. you were already 12 minutes late to your meeting with the hero, and you weren't even dressed yet. the sound of paws hitting your table and a soft coo made you turn your head towards one of your cats, a genuine smile gracing your features.

"how did i get into this situation, bitters?" you sighed, holding your hand up and feeling bitters rub his black fur under it, purring loudly. reluctantly, you stood up and began to get dressed, stripping before pulling on your usual black suit and mask. you reached for your gloves on the table and retracted your claws before reaching for the rest of your equipment; your grappling hook, your throwing knives, and your gun. the murderer (or murderers) were clever, you knew that, and they probably spent months or years preparing for their plan.

you never underestimated someone with a drive to kill.

the night was calm, void of any strong and chilly winds. the moon was still as full as ever, hanging over you like a lamp as you made your way out your window and shot your grappling hook up to the nearby building's ledge. pulling yourself up and over to the next roof, you began to run, allowing the adrenaline to flow smoothly through your veins.

your legs helped you jump over the gaps between the buildings as though it was second nature to you; and in a way, it was. you had been stealing ever since your father died, only taking up bigger projects when you were 16. you knew how to slink your way between alleys and roads, how to travel across streets and cops undetected. you weren't a novice.

the building in front of tara and sam's apartment came into view as you neared. you saw the familiar red and blue hero situated on the rooftop, his back to you as you set your feet down on the floor. immediately, he turned around, as though you had made all the sound in the world. only mildly perturbed, you rolled your eyes. "is that one of your little powers? being able to tell when i'm here?"

standing up to look at you, he crossed his arms over his chest. "you're 30 minutes late," spider-man said annoyedly, making you sigh exaggeratedly, walking towards him. one of your gloved hands came to flick his arm as you passed him.

"you're such a sourpuss. i wasn't aware that you were so strict about our meetings." squatting down to avoid detection, you gazed at the apartment building. he was practically radiating warmth, for as he sat next to you, you felt his warmth going off of him in waves. having powers must've made him similar to a furnace. throwing a quick look at him, you managed a smirk and added, "i didn't know you were so desperate to see me."

he scoffed at your words, shaking his head in disbelief. "jesus, not everything is about you, you know," he grumbled, "i needed you here on time so that we could talk about that information you gave me yesterday."

"right," you drawled, "the shit about the stab masks and the roommates. i was gonna ask one of the mafias i've worked with if they knew anything about that." you had told him what had happened after you had called the police to laura crane's body. you had followed the perpetrator after recognizing his backpack, and found him walking into his dorm room (which was at your college, another detail that truly made you think about whether you should just stop going to classes). he was killed right after you had left him, unwilling to call the police for obvious reasons, but you wanted to keep an eye on him. and while it wasn't your m.o, you might have killed him.

but spider-man didn't know that.

"i don't think there's only one killer. and as it's shown in the past, there's almost always two," spider-man said thoughtfully, eyes focused on the window view the both of you had into tara and sam's kitchen. unbeknownst to you, spider-man was also adamant on watching their apartment for another reason; quinn was in there. ethan wanted to keep an eye on his sister and protect her as much as he could, because he knew that being friends with the woodsboro survivors put her in as much danger as them.

you scoffed. "well, that's obvious. being that codependent on someone else has got to make you a sociopathic murderer. placing that much trust on another that you murder together.. that's collateral damage. they're practically bound for failure."

spider-man sent you a look (or as much of a look as he could with his mask covering his entire face). "i bet you have tons of friends with that mindset, kitty."

you rolled your eyes at his words. "thanks, spider, you're such a wonderful person to be around while we stake out this killer," you said dryly, letting out a huff.

"trust me," spider-man chuckled in disbelief, "the fact that i'm stuck with a criminal with more of an attitude problem than anyone i've ever met doesn't exactly make me thrilled."

you let out a joyless laugh. who was he to even talk to you like that? you weren't going to let some baby-man with powers talk about you as though you were nothing. "you can do this shit alone then, spider." you stood up, making him stand up alongside you. an accusatory finger poked at his chest. "if you can't deal with my attitude—"

"i'm surprised anyone can," spider-man seethed, walking closer to you.

you clenched your jaw, fists clenching as you stopped yourself from throwing a punch. "all that stuff about asking the mafia, you—"

spider-man's head turning to his left as he murmured a small, "shut up." his head turned around him frantically, as though he was suddenly searching for something. he felt that familiar chill run through his entire nervous system, and yet he found himself running a blank. nothing was happening; nothing he could see, at least.

"i won't, actually! you can kiss that plan goodbye if you keep being such a fucking—" spider-man grabbed your arm, his hold not tight, but firm enough to cut your words off.

"something is happening right now. and i don't know what it is." he seemed panicked as he spoke, as though everything was running on overdrive. usually he knew exactly what was happening, but he didn't know what this time. he couldn't see anything huge happening around him, but he knew something was going on. something in the apartment.

you looked at the apartment, squinting when you saw tara and her friends laughing over god knows what. turning back to the hero, you swallowed your pride down for once and forced out a, "take me to where you think it's happening."

a beat. he was studying your face, trying to see if you were serious, if you were actually willing to help him despite your interrupted argument. wordlessly, he put his hand around your waist and pulled you to him, throwing a web towards tara and sam's apartment.

a scream left mindy's lips when she ran into the bathroom, finding the body of one of quinn's hook-ups in the tub, stabbed repeatedly with his blood splattered all around him. "oh, fuck, that guy's dead!" mindy cried out, gripping her sliced arm tightly before she turned back to the bathroom entrance, screaming at the sight of the murderer right at the door.

they took a step towards her, knife glinting in their hand before you kicked him in the stomach, kicking him against the wall. your clawed hand came down to scratch his chest, your brows furrowing when your hand met a bulletproof vest rather than skin. the murderer swung his knife at you, only slicing the base of your neck as you quickly dodged. you punched their face and kicked them back further against the wall, using one of your knives to stab their chest, only praying it made it past their bulletproof vest. you then ran into the bathroom and shut the door behind you.

"who the fuck are you?!" mindy screamed, taking in your get up and mask, eyes widening in recognition. "you're that criminal—"

"stop talking and get into the room! take this," you put one of your throwing knives in her hand and turned to sam, who was pulling mindy into the bedroom and sending you a confused look. shoving them both into the bathroom, you helped them barricade the door before the killer came close, your back against the door as you kept the dresser against it.

"who is this?!" anika yelled, practically spilling her guts all over the bed.

"maybe don't ask questions while your intestines are threatening to come out!" you yelled, still holding the door shut.

"say something more positive!" anika screamed in response, mindy coming next to her to apply more pressure to her huge wound.

you looked at sam, who was yelling at the neighbor across the alleyway, before she looked up, her face laced with even more confusion. "about time!" she yelled at the hero, who crawled down the wall as he threw a web at the roof's ledge and held onto the other end of it.

"we're gonna get you across!" spider-man said reassuringly, offering a hand out for sam, who immediately took it. he pulled her close as he brought her across and into the other window into the arms of the neighbor before he went to the other window again, peeking in. "oh, hey!" he said lightly, trying not to show his panic.

"hi. can you help?!" mindy asked harshly, helping anika stand up and bringing her to the hero.

"oh, you don't look great!" he shot some webbing into his hand and places anika's hand more into her wound before wrapping her hand and her wound, keeping the pressure. "keep pressing down," he said, carefully putting his arm around her to bring her to the other side. "you doing okay there, kitty?" he asked behind his shoulder at you, making you groan in frustration.

"just fantastic!"

"okay, good!" with that, he swung out the window, anika screaming in her wake. he brought her to the neighbor's window, carefully putting her down before he went back for mindy.

the door behind you suddenly lurched forward, as though the killer had gained twice the strength than they originally had. the sudden strength pushed you far enough away from the door for it to open, the killer quick as they shoved it wider. you hand flew to your gun, ready to shoot despite the vest you knew they were wearing. behind you, mindy was already being brought to the other window, leaving you alone with the killer, who tilted their head at you. they took the knife you had stabbed into them and threw it back at you, making you dodge it quickly, shooting a shot at their leg.

they didn't fall. instead, they swung at you, cutting your side as you moved back. you groaned at the sudden pain, hand coming down to hold it tightly as warm liquid began to seep through your fingers. they managed to cut in the one area that wasn't protected by some of your armor. and while it was only a slice, they cut deep. they were angry; it was evident in their sudden frantic movements. they wanted you dead.

they lunged at you, making you move away from the window and shoot at them again, your shots to their chest doing nothing. "i fucking hate this," you grumbled, putting your gun back into your side before you unsheathed your claws and swung at his dominant arm, scratching it and hearing them groan in pain.

the sound was muffled, but they sounded like a man.

you kicked them, trying to kick them out of the window, only for them to grab the windows edges and lunge at you again, making you move swiftly out of the way and making them hit the dresser harshly.

a thwip sent a web towards their hand, and another sent one to their leg, sticking them there. spider-man swung in next to you, taking in the cut on your neck and the blood dripping from your hand. "you have to get out of here," he stated, grabbing your hand and lifting it to use a web to bandage your wound quickly.

"i'll be fine," you seethed, ignoring the pain, "remove his mask, we need to catch him."

"you're not going to be fine, i'm getting you out of here," his hands came down around your waist despite your protests, your want to remove the killers mask strong as you tried to wriggle your way out. "stop being so fucking stubborn and let me help you!" the hero snapped, already throwing a web out the window and pulling the both of you away from the apartment.

he laid you down on the rooftop of the building, giving you a quick once over before he went back to the apartment, leaving you alone. you hated to admit it, but the amount of blood you were losing from both your wounds was making you dizzy.

spider-man landed back inside the apartment, letting out a groan of frustration at the sight of the cut webs and the lack of a killer. turning to the neighbor's apartment, he swung over, landing in their kitchen casually. "help is on the way. in the meantime stay in here," he looked at all of them strewn throughout the apartment, all sporting some type of wound. the eyes of his mask narrowed when he noticed a few people were missing. tara and chad were gone, but most importantly, quinn was gone too. "was anyone left behind?" he asked sam, trying to keep a relatively calm front.

"tara and chad were locked out, and our roommate, quinn.." sam swallowed thickly, her eyes fogged over as she tried not to think too hard about it.

from beneath the mask, ethan's eyes began to blur over with tears out of worry, the lack of response making him want to shake sam and demand answers. demand where his sister is, cry out that they should've done more, that it was him under the mask, that he needed to know if she made it. "did," he exhaled shakily, makiing sam look at him in interest, "did she die?"

"she didn't make it," sam said with a heavy exhale. "ghostface got to her before we could stop them."

ethan's jaw clenched as his eyes began to well up with more tears that he couldn't wipe away. it felt like sensory overload; he could hear anika's labored breathing and mindy's reassurance from the living room, smell the smell of pennies from everyone's blood, feel every fiber of his suit sticking to his skin. he was suddenly aware of how small the apartment felt, how the ceiling seemed to come closer and closer to his head and how the walls seemed too reachable.

he had to get out.

"thank you. and tell your friend thank you too," sam said, breaking his cloud of sadness briefly.

his friend. you were still up there, bleeding all over the roof.

"i have to go. i'm.. i'm sorry about your roommate." he turned to the others in a silent farewell, before turning back to sam. "we'll be doing patrols around your guys' apartment." and with that, he swung out the window and back to you, pulling his mask over half his face to try and regain his breath.

"he was gone, wasn't he?" you asked, your voice monotone as you sat with your hand over your wound. you looked at him, your eyes unreadable as you took in how stressed he looked. he was drinking in air as though he had been drowning, and if you looked closely, you saw tearstains on his cheeks. his head had fallen back and his face was tilted up to the sky, his chest heaving as he tried to calm himself. rather than question it, you knew it wasn't your place.

ethan, while he wanted to desperately to cry and scream for the death of his sister, only tried to calm himself. he could feel anger thrumming through his veins, and most of all, he felt that same pain he felt when richie died. as though a part of him had died too.

he realized then that the panic he had felt from his senses was most likely the feeling of his older sister dying in the arms of a killer. he felt her attack.

"he was." the hero answered, taking in one more deep breath and exhaling slowly. he turned to you and moved to help you stand up. instinctively, his arm cam around your waist, allowing you to use him like a crutch. "we have to get you help," he murmured, turning towards the direction of the hospital.

"you and i both know that we can't go to the hospital," you muttered, looking at him. his mask was still pulled over half of his face, leaving the upper half of his face a mystery to you. but you could see the lower half, and you stopped the urge to roll your eyes at your conclusion.

of course, new york's spider-man was a pretty boy.

"fine, then. we're going to your place."

yeah, he was pretty. pretty stupid.

"are you serious?" you managed a laugh that quickly died due to the pain that shot up your chest. "no. why can't we go to your place?"

"because my roommate has a room right next to me and the walls are so thin that he can hear everything i do," he responded dryly, looking down at you. "you don't have to remove your mask. i won't do it either, and.. you can put away any photos you have in your apartment. deal?"

you stared at him, weighing the other options in your head before groaning. "fine," you grumbled in annoyance, "but i better not see you making any friendly visits any time soon. i'm not the hospitable type."

"'m not gonna make any visits, kitty. promise."

spider-man pushed your window open, helping you enter before he closed it shut behind you both. the sound of your two cats, bitters and junie, welcomed you home as per usual, their meows relaxing you as you managed a small smile their way. surprisingly enough, they rubbed themselves on the hero's leg as they made their way towards you.

"very on brand of you to be a cat lady," he hummed, making you send him a look as you reached down to pet them briefly. "am i wrong? you're black cat and you have black cat. and a white one. for all i know you could have more in here."

"do you want to meet my cats or help me stop losing blood?" you asked snarkily, making him turn to you, the eyes of his mask widening.

"oh, right. you're hurt."

"thanks for your concern," you responded dryly, feeling him fix his arm around your waist. "bathroom's down that hall to the left."

your weight seemed like nothing to him as he led you to your bathroom, sitting you down on your closed toilet. he threw open your cupboards, searching for your first aid and finding it. he managed a small triumphant smile as he took it out, closing the cupboard and sitting to your right.

"you know what you're doing, right?" you asked warily, staring at him as he brought out your suture kit. "scandalous," you couldn't help but comment as he pulled his gloves off, making him send you a look.

"stop staring at my hands."

"i'm staring at the needle you're going to stab me repeatedly with, not your hands," you stated, rolling your eyes. "your hands are nice too though, spider." you chuckled at his frustrated sigh, eyes on him as he stood up to wash his hands. "you didn't answer my question."

rushing water filled your ears as he washed his hands diligently. he seemed to be thinking about whether or not he should answer your question, but honestly, you were just trying to make the whole situation less awkward. you couldn't care less whether he had done it before or not; what mattered was that he could suture up your wound.

"i think it was the fifth time i was in a fight?" he began, eyes set on his hands as he dried them off on a nearby towel. "i was still.. new to all of this, i guess. caught this gang ready to beat this poor kid up— he was like, 13 at the most, and they were trying to get back at his older brother. 'course i had to help him." he moved back to your side, sitting down comfortably and taking the suture kit. "i was able to get most of 'em out of the way. but one snuck up on me. my senses made me get out of the way on time, but i got this huge cut on my stomach. another one on my side from his buddy." he carefully cut the webs on your side, looking up at you for permission. "i'm gonna have to cut your suit. may i?"

you nodded quickly. "i have more, just.. keep talking."

"right." he cut the rest of the webbing, including the cloth of your suit, reveling the entirety of your wound. "i spent that night suturing up my own cut with a needle and thread. i can heal pretty quickly but if i were to just bleed everywhere my roommate would notice." he then took a cloth and rubbing alcohol and gently cleaned around your cut. "hurt like a bitch, though."

"well, duh." you watched him pull out all the thread and take the forceps to bring the needle out. he brought it closer to your skin, and you took deep breaths.

"ready?"

"just get it over with." you groaned in pain when the needle entered your skin, the thread pulling through quickly after it. the pain was horrible, but soon enough he was tying the knot and beginning the next one. you were biting down harshly on your lip, trying not to cry out from the pain as you felt the next one enter. your mind was so focused on the needle continuously entering your skin that you didn't even hear spider-man talk to you.

"your apartment is nice," he said softly, only glancing up at you before he focused back on the task at hand. "you must be loaded from all the stealing 'n stuff."

his hands were a bit rough, most likely from training and from superhero duties. but the way he touched you, regardless of how harsh your personality was; it was as though he was scared he'd break you. as though he was watching his strength as he poked the needle through your skin and pulled, careful not to hurt you as much as he already was.

he didn't know why he was being so gentle, why he was watching how he was touching you. maybe he felt guilty for allowing you to be the one to go into the apartment. maybe he wanted to make up for the wounds he felt like he indirectly caused you. ethan didn't know.

"yeah," you forced out through gritted teeth, trying to steady your breathing. he was trying to distract you, trying to keep you talking about whatever he was asking you rather than having you focus solely on the thread moving through your skin.

but unbeknownst to you, ethan was asking you questions not only to distract you, but to distract himself as well. he was still reeling from the death of his sister, but he had compartmentalized it all before he had given himself the chance to fully cope. he hadn't fully cried yet, nor had he given himself time to grieve. he didn't know when he could; it felt like he had no time to grieve for her. "the day we first met, after i caught you—"

"you didn't catch me."

"after i almost caught you while you ran away from the museum," another stab, another stab, another knot. "why did you bring that painting back there? like," his lips twitched downwards, "you didn't even steal anything from the museum, which is weird considering you're a thief and probably a klepto who would love to have a collection of paintings in her really nice apartment—"

"i put it back where it came from." you avoided his gaze as you focused on the bathroom floor as though it was the most interesting thing in the world. "the rich people i stole it from hired some random criminals to steal it first," you explained, "so i just put it back. they don't deserve to keep that piece of art to themselves when the painter made it for everyone to enjoy."

he looked up at you after he finished tying another knot, taking in your features. how you seemed a million miles away despite being right in front of him, and how you had just admitted that one of your crimes had more meaning behind it than just a simple burglary. and you looked.. almost embarrassed to say it. as though you had never admitted it out loud before.

"the people you steal from are usually well off."

you turned your head to look at him, and this time it was his turn to focus on something else. his eyes were set on his stitches. "old money, new money, just people who are incredibly wealthy."

"have you been studying me, spider?" you asked teasingly, making his cheeks (or what you could see of it) burn red.

"no. i mean—" he stammered, groaning when he heard you chuckle softly. "i had to! i mean, i've been trying to keep track of the usual criminals in the city and you were obviously on that list so.. yeah!"

"so you were studying me." you tilted your head with a teasing smile.

"okay! you're done." he put a bandage around the suture to finish it off, throwing away the used needle and thread. he began to clean up quickly, shoving the suture kit into the first aid box. but as his eyes looked back at you, he paused his embarrassed antics. he stared as you stood up, ready to change your clothes, before he stopped you. "wait."

you looked at him in confusion as he took out a bandage and ran a cloth under water. he moved closer to you, and you saw him visibly gulp from where his mask was pulled up. "your neck," he murmured, and you raised a brow, but for once stayed quiet. the warm cloth met the base of your neck, rubbing away the dried blood from the cut that you forget was even there. water dripped down your skin and melted into your suit, but you were too preoccupied with looking at how his tongue poked at his cheek when he was focused.

he wiped away the rest of the blood and used a dry towel to pat it down dry before taking the bandage. his fingernails grazed your skin ever so lightly as he placed the bandage over your cut, his adam's apple bobbing when he saw your eyes set on his face through his peripherals. he could smell your lavender perfume from where he stood, pressing the bandage down into your skin, warming the skin with the heat of his palm. "done," he breathed, eyes looking back at you.

and suddenly, his hands fell at his sides as he focused on cleaning up again.

"what was that?" you couldn't help but ask, but he only shrugged in response.

"don't think about me too much, kitty."

"i should say the same to you," you said blankly, brows furrowing as you watched him clean up as though he hadn't just helped you patch up all your injuries.

you moved past him, making your way into your room and shutting the door behind you. you hid the photo of you and your father under some papers before unzipping your suit and pulling it off of you. the fabric moved over your wound, but you were careful enough that it add onto the pain. you put on a shirt and some shorts before walking out to your living room.

you bit back a comment when you saw the hero sitting criss-crossed on your living room floor with bitters on his lap and your white cat, junie, nudging herself under his hand as she purred. a genuine smile was on his face; he had a habit of pulling his lip under his teeth when he smiled.

"how're you feeling? you asked nonchalantly, making him look up towards you. you felt his eyes on you as you took out two glasses and poured water into both.

"fine, i guess."

"stop lying," you said over your shoulder, taking the two glasses and walking towards him. you held one glass out to him, looking at him pointedly. "i saw you after you went to check on them. something happened."

you were onto him. that was all ethan thought as he took the glass of water from your hand and looked down at your cats. your eyes were practically burning into his head as you waited for him to answer. you thought it was right; you gave him truth, now he should give you some in return. hell, you let him into your home.

taking a deep breath, he calmed down his rapidly beating heart. "i knew one of them, and they didn't make it. that's all." you could see him bite down on his lip as though he was stopping it from quivering, his eyes dead set on your cats despite your eye contact.

you didn't say anything for a minute, letting him relish in the quiet before you began talking again. "we'll find out who attacked them." no 'i'm sorry.' no condolences, because you were someone who hated hearing it from others. especially when your father died; mafia groups sent their condolences, sent their 'i'm sorrys' to the door of your past house as though they hadn't wanted him dead for years. you didn't like hearing it and your didn't like saying it.

the hero nodded, his brows coming down to furrow together. "we will." he stated. you had made a deal with him the night before, but that didn't truly feel like a deal. this one did; it walked a thin line between a deal and a promise.

ACT III, ACT IV, ACT V, EPILOGUE

#AUTHOR'S NOTE— i know i literally posted yesterday but i'm excited about this series so here! thank you so much for reading xx

#TAGLIST— @ethanlvndry , @iloveneilperry , @starsfilm , @goosenoggin , @aminatic , @wenvierismycomfort , @l5byrinth , @wroetoslut , @briefwinnerpersonaturtle , @oliviapopewannabe , @wzrlds , @raggedyoldwitch

[plants-are-fun]

sunshine

tw!!!! This is gonna be a multiple parter and will have MANY serious topics. Do not read if you are sensitive to that stuff.

this story contains: abusive dad, mean Chris

Chrisxfemreader

readers pov

————————

I miss how I used to be. I assume I’ll be saying that forever. my childhood was by no means easy, but it was perfect to me.

I had a deadbeat dad and no mom, but I also had the triplets and their parents. I basically lived with them.

I still remember how when I came home from school to their house, marylou would open her hands out as I ran to her yelling “sunshine!” As loud as she could. I don’t think I would have made it this far without her.

me and Nick were the closest. I was the first person he came out to, and although I didn’t know much about what being “gay” meant, I was still supportive. He knew everything about my home life, and swore that he would never tell anyone about it, not even his brothers.

Matt was the one that recognized all of my conditions. He recognized that I was dyslexic when I couldn’t read very well. He would always read for me so I could fall asleep. He also recognized my depression and anxiety, and even my ADHD. Although they couldn’t get me to a doctor or therapist legally, knowing made it much easier to cope. He was honestly like a big brother to me, being two years older.

Chris was my everything. I had the biggest crush on him. I could even say my first love. It was obvious that he didn’t feel the same, but I’m grateful he kept me around anyway. He would never fully speak to me as we got older, but he would always tell his friends to back off whenever they picked on me for my hair, my clothes, or even my smell.

that all changed in middle school.

I was in 6th grade, he was in 8th, and he hadn’t spoken to me all year. I would always walk with him in the halls because I was more comfortable that way. Neither Nick or Matt had a schedule anywhere close to mine, so I never even saw them.

It was in the middle of January when I was trying to find Chris that I heard him and his buddies laughing from around the corner.

“what about y/n?” One of the goons said. I slowed my walking, not meaning to eavesdrop, but just so I would turn the corner and be spotted as quickly.

“what about her?” Chris said with a scoff.

“she’s always following you around, like a little lost puppy. It’s so obvious she likes you” some idiot said

I stopped and felt my ears burn with embarrassment.

“yeah I guess she does..” Chris said. I was so hurt. He used to always defend me against these guys and now he’s agreeing?

“but you let her! Do you like her too? I mean, you guys grew up together” one of his friends, Jared said.

“do I like her?” Chris said. I could tell he was embarrassed and maybe a bit flustered. As I thought he was going to defend me, defend us he said “bro, how could I like her? She lives in a trailer park. I could never like someone like that. Nick told me that it always smells like cigarettes and is always filthy. She needs to leave me be. The smell might rub off on me”.

I know I should’ve let it slide off. Middle schoolers are dumb, and they just want attention. But all I could do was stand there and begin to cry.

I bolted away from the group and into the restroom. I stayed there until the end of the day.

all I could think of was how Nick could have done that to me. I didn’t want him to come over to where I lived, but he insisted. He said that ‘it was only fair because I had basically lived at his house’. When I let him in, he seemed supportive, but I guess he was just grossed out. But he was the only person to even know about me living in a trailer park, and he promised he would never tell anyone.

I wanted to hurt him, maybe even out him. But in the end I just shut my mouth and shut down.

when the final bell rang, I ran out with red puffy eyes, and climbed into the back of marylous minivan.

“hey sunshine, how was school? are you ok?” She said. After squeaking out a quick “fine” she just sighed and tapped the steering wheel, waiting for her real sons to come out. Matt came out and I saw him look at me, then his mom before climbing in the front seat. Marylou just gave me a worried look then shrugged to Matt.

Chris came out looking like he was the coolest motherfucker in the world, slouching and nodding to his mom. He got in without even sparing me a glance.

when Nick came bouncing out, he waved to his mom and Chris before getting in the middle row with Chris. He turned to me with the biggest grin on his face and said “hey girl!! How was your day? I have SO much to tell you when we get back.” I just looked at him.

“hey are you ok?” He said, reaching out to rub my shoulder.

I jerked away from him. “Don’t touch me.” I spat out.

“what’s wrong” he said withdrawing his hand.

“don’t even talk to me.” I glared at him. He just looked confused. The whole car was silent. Marylou was looking at me in the rearview mirror and Matt was fully turned around with his jaw on the floor.

“Ms. Sturniolo, can you please just take me home?” I said startling even myself. I had never called Marylou that. Even when I was a kid before learning her name I just called her ‘nicks mom’.

“sure sweetie, are you sure? You can take a nap in your room if you want-“ “yes I’m sure. Thank you.” I don’t want to be anywhere near Chris or Nick. It wasn’t even my room. It was a guest bedroom with a lot of my clothes because I stayed over so often.

“ok sunshine” she muttered.

the whole car ride was silent. It took everything in me not to burst into tears and tell her everything, to ask her to not take me home. The last thing I wanted was to go back home. But it was obvious that I was bothering the poor family, so I would give them what they wanted.

once we pulled up, I gathered my things and jumped out of the car. After saying thank you and ignoring nicks goodbye, I started walking, before remembering I had forgotten my water bottle on the cup holder. I ran back, to where Chris was waiting with the window rolled down, holding it out to me. I took it and turned away before hearing him mutter “not even going to say thanks?”

I turned to him and said “thank you, Chris. I hope being here didn’t make you too uncomfortable” quiet enough for only us to hear it. “You should take a shower when you get home. I wouldn’t want my smell to rub off on you”. He looked like he had seen a ghost, but I didn’t care. I just walked off and slammed the door on my way into the house. I heard the car start to drive away when I felt a searing pain hit my jaw. my dad was awake.

“What the fuck do y-you think you’re doing here? I told you I don’t want your stupid face in here.” He slurred “I’ll stay in my room” I whispered. I knew he didn’t like me, but I never thought he would hit me in the face like that.

“ok, I don’t fucking care. Stay out of my sight. And if you ever slam my door again I’ll kill you.” I was used to empty threats, but after just hitting me, I didn’t know if it was empty anymore.

“yes sir” I said as I walked to my room.

that night I cried harder than I had ever before. I cried so hard that I threw up. After going to the Bathroom to brush my teeth, I saw the bruise that was starting to form.

I got out my flip phone and texted Nick. I couldn’t have him asking questions.

to: Nicky :))))))

hey, I’m taking the bus tmr, I don’t need a ride there or back.

from: Nicky :))))))

ok, r u sure? It’s rlly no problem. and r u ok??? Did I do something????

to: Nick Sturniolo

yes I’m sure. Night

that would be the last time I spoke to him.

Chris POV

—————

I still stay awake thinking of that day.

I don’t know why I said it. I didn’t mean it, she had to have known.

I wanted that stupid group of boys to like me so bad, and stupid fucking Jared had some sort of obsession with her, so I didn’t want to make him hate me by being her friend.

I didn’t like talking about her behind my back, but what would the harm be if she wasn’t around? It’s not like any of these guys would ever talk to her.

I remember being so worried about her. She would always come to school looking like she never slept, never showered, and never ate. It kept up until we took her in.

one day there was a stench on her, so I confided in Nick. He didn’t want to tell me, but I have a way of wiggling information out of people. He felt so guilty after, and made me swear I would never speak of what he told me, even to Matt. But of course I had to run my mouth to fucking jared.

we knew she lived in a park, but that was it. She wouldn’t even tell my mom.

during that car ride, I knew something was wrong. I would have been an idiot not to see it.

when she whispered those words to me, I knew I had fucked up.

Nick asked me what she said, but I was so worried that I could lose Nick too, that I just told him she said thanks.

Nick was distraught after he got the text saying that she would take the bus.

after it became clear she wouldn’t be coming back, Nick gave me her clothes to give to her. She just took them and walked away.

I began to hate her for the affect her absence had on Nick. Why would she do that to him without even explaining? Was she protecting me?

but she shouldn’t do that to Nick.

I hate her.

————————

not sure how I feel about this but I hope you like it!!!

please leave reviews and comments below!!

[nightmareishomophobic]

Your therapist is back

And today we are tackling the subject: are you really homophobic ?

You say that you need to spread negativity and that it is why you act homophobic, but let's imagine that you somehow find yourself in a group of very religious and/or conservative people. These people despise the LGBT community and mentioning that you support gay people will create a wave of disgust and anger, which are two negative emotions.

Now, given that your goal is to create negativity, will you openly say that you support the LGBT community or will you stand your ground being homophobic knowing that it won't create any negativy but rather positivity as they may feel pleased that you agree with them ?

- sincerely, you therapist who needs to sleep because it's 3:30am

"umm... I guess I'd say... Uh... I'd say I do support it? BUT I HAVE YOU KNOW THAT I AM NOT!!"

[transgenderteensurvivalguide]

Hey, so I'm a cis(?) guy who really wants to go on estrogen, but i also really do not want to have breasts. Is there any way that i could get all (or most, i guess) of the other effects of estrogen without developing breasts?

Lee says:

Hi my friend! Navigating your gender identity and the decision to undergo hormone therapy can be complicated.

It's sometimes possible to start hormones if you're 100% sure that you want hormones, even if you aren't 100% sure what your gender identity is, but support from a therapist who specializes in gender identity issues can be invaluable.

They can help you explore your feelings about your gender and your body, expectations, and concerns about taking estrogen and the changes it brings, and I would really recommend looking into finding a supportive therapist.

You don't always need to be diagnosed with gender dysphoria by a mental health provider to access HRT if you see a provider who uses informed consent, and not everyone feels therapy is helpful in this area-- it really depends on whether you can find a trans-friendly, competent, and affirming therapist.

But if you don't see a therapist (And even if you do!) finding support from the trans community can be super helpful if you're questioning being trans, or considering medical transitioning.

Looking for local support groups that meet in-person or online can be a great opportunity to hear from people who have similar experiences as you do because they can provide useful insights and helpful information.

With all that said, it isn't possible to pick and choose what changes you will get when you start hormones. It's an all-or-nothing thing. If you choose to start estrogen, you may experience some breast growth. For reference, this chart lists some of the major changes that you can expect from estrogen!

You can't anticipate how much chest growth you'll get- some people have minimal growth and others develop a C cup or larger-- so if the breast growth is a deal breaker, estrogen may not be the right option for you.

There is a type of medication called SERMs which might allow you to take estrogen without breast growth, but there isn’t enough research on the effect of taking SERMs and I don’t have personal experience with it either, so I can’t provide much information on that— you’ll need to speak to a medical provider about it.

Because the effects are not fully known, I would assume that there’s a chance that even if you take them you could still have some amount of breast growth, and make your decision based on that assumption unless your provider says otherwise.

You may choose to wear a binder for the rest of your life if you get breast growth and remain unhappy with your chest, but you might be swapping one form of dysphoria for another, so you should really consider whether all of the desired changes that you'd get from estrogen are more important to you than the one big change that you don't want.

You could also start estrogen and wear a binder until your chest has stopped developing (at least ~2 years) then undergo top surgery to get a flat chest again if you are uncomfortable with the breast growth from estrogen therapy. This is a significant decision and requires thorough consultation with both your hormone prescriber and a plastic surgeon.

If you feel that having breast growth isn't worth the other changes, you could explore other things.

While estrogen can slow down the growth of new facial hair, it does not typically eliminate existing facial hair, even though facial and body hair may become lighter and grow more slowly. It also doesn't reverse hair loss that has already happened, although it can slow or prevent future hair loss.

So removing facial and body hair with laser hair removal and electrolysis, and reversing and preventing further hairline recession and balding with a hair transplant, minoxidil, and finestride might mimic some of the hair-related changes that you might see from estrogen.

Similarly, facial feminization surgery and body contouring surgery can help to mimic the body fat redistribution that you'd experience on estrogen without also creating the chest growth that you don't want to experience.

However, these surgeries are more invasive than estrogen, so if you're considering estrogen, you may want to wait until after you've been on it for a couple of years before you decide whether you still need surgery or are satisfied with the changes.

If you're confident that you don't want estrogen then you could hop straight to those surgeries, but they may or may not be covered by insurance even with a diagnosis of gender dysphoria; some policies recognize that they are medically necessary interventions and others deem them cosmetic.

As you may have guessed, the vast majority of people who were assigned male at birth and express interest in taking estrogen are not cisgender men. Many end up identifying as transgender women or non-binary people. That doesn't mean that you are trans for sure, but just considering the overall probabilities, I'd say there's a good chance that you have more to explore to figure out about your gender.

But even if you don't end up identifying as part of the community, you can still consider medical interventions even if you identify as a cisgender man. It's your body, and you should do whatever you need to do to feel comfortable in it.

It's okay to look into starting estrogen (or any other medical transitioning step) while identifying as male. Just make sure you get the support you need from your medical providers so you know all the options available to you and the risks of each choice.

[brokenorbornthatway]

We lost a couple followers after the last post we reblogged, so I figured now is a good time to go over some of our stances so you can know if we're not your cup of tea.

We are profiction, proship, anti harassment ,and anti censorship. No exceptions.

Fiction is an endless playground with no rules, do literally whatever you want for whatever reason you want.

We are pro kink and anti kink shaming. Honestly this is pretty much the same as being profiction/proship. Kink is fantasy. So long as all parties are able to and do consent, kinks are morally neutral.

We are pro para, and to be precise, pro big 3 having the right to exist without being dehumanized/demonized. To be more precise, we wholeheartedly support non offending/anti contact pedophiles. There is nothing wrong with having an attraction. Thought crimes do not exist. We support paraphiles right to exist and find community, support, and healthy ways to embrace themselves without causing harm to themselves or others.

We do not believe there is ever a circumstance in which it becomes acceptable to strip someone of their human rights. We have had more than our fair share of violent fantasies towards people who have wronged us or those we love and people who have caused large scale harm. Believe me, we get the urge to say "but this type of person deserves to be systemically punished". It's pretty easy to buy into. It's never the right answer though. Allowing any one group or type of person or whatever to be dehumanized, means that anyone can be, which leads right back to the systems of oppression we live in now. No one deserves to be treated as less than human.

We are endo supportive and against fake claiming. We don't think it's right to assume that you know better than people what's going on in their own brains. Even if you did think someone is "faking", you don't know them well enough, nor are you educated enough, nor are you in the position (the position being "being their therapist") to tell them they're faking and risk being wrong and causing someone serious mental distress.

We are anti punitive justice and pro restorative justice. We are a prison abolitionist. Prison is never an acceptable answer for "what to do when harm is done?"

We are in favor of youthlib, and still learning about this topic. Children are people and are often treated as less than that. Children are fully autonomous beings and we are in favor of children's rights. Kids deserve to have a say in their lives and the issues that affect them.

We are against body shaming in all instances, including jokes about penis size and jokes about how people with bad opinions look.

We are pro all good faith identities. We really do not understand radqueer or transID things, but as long as you aren't causing harm, we support you.

We are pro self diagnoses. Diagnoses is a privilege that is unavailable to many and is a thing that is unsafe to some. I don't believe in armchair diagnosing others. Unless you're their doctor, you don't have the qualifications to diagnose them. However, I absolutely believe everyone is the expert on themselves, and with the information on whatever the condition on question is, most people can at least make a pretty good educated guess on what's going on with themselves.

We are against equating normal with good.

We are anti fascist and anti colonization.

We love and support Jewish people.

We believe in second chances. People can learn to do better and everyone deserves that chance. We believe in rehabilitation. To be human is to fuck up. It's a lot easier to admit your fuck ups and learn better when you see other people doing the same and being accepted.

We think violence is a key part of human nature and that it is something that needs to be fully embraced so that there are ample options to act out violent urges without causing harm that are easily accessible without fear of being shamed. There are already tons of options to for this in existence, but the stigma towards openly enjoying and wanting violence is huge barrier. Rather than meeting someone who says they're having violent urges with "count to ten, do deep breaths, GET HELP," we could meet them with "ok, that's totally human and normal. We've got video games, rage rooms, etc, where you can work through those violent urges in a healthy way." I don't know about everyone, but for us, learning that throwing soft things against the wall while rage screaming was an acceptable and safe way to manage anger and the urge to throw shit was a huge relief. Humanity is brutal, so in order to heal and build something better, I think safe ways to express that brutality and openness regarding it are vital.

Nothing really exists in terms of absolutes. This one is one that's hard for us due to being prone to black and white, all or nothing thinking. Everything falls in shades of grey. There is nuance in everything.

This one is basically a repeat, but it's important to us: every human life has intrinsic value that can not be taken away, no matter how "bad" they are or how much wrong they've done. Everyone deserves to be treated like a human, no matter what. If human rights don't apply to everyone, then they aren't human rights, they're "good people rights", and that should scare you.

That's all I can think of right now. Be aware that this is a vent blog. We might vent or rant about any of the above topics at length. If any of these things are not for you, we kindly invite you to leave.

[charmingpplincardigans]

How’s everyone doing? I’ll go first, I’m bad!

I have been ~*~struggling~*~ since mid-September and in the last two weeks it has just gotten unbearable. I feel like I’m drowning all the time. I’m having trouble keeping up with and reaching out to people I want to talk to. And that’s like, on top of always having been bad at getting back to people. *stares forlornly at the ask Chaz sent me like, literally two years ago that I think about daily but just. haven’t. RESPONDED TO.*

Things are just. Closing in on all sides unfortunately. I’ve been sick several times. I bounced this month’s rent check. A thing I had NEVER DONE BEFORE IN MY LIFE before this last move. My job is literally never going to pay me what I’m worth. Or anyone what they’re worth, frankly. I broke down in front of my boss the other day and just sobbed for an hour because after I pay my bills every paycheck I have just enough left over to buy groceries for two weeks, if I’m careful, and little else. Which means I’m putting stuff like gas on credit cards, which isn’t helping the debt that makes me feel like drowning in the first place.  I’ve been at this job SEVENTEEN YEARS. A steady, corporate job. And I’ve never once in my entire time there made an actual cost of living raise!! The cost of living just keeps raising without me! (And also everyone else, I know!)

I’m super overdue on getting people the art they commissioned from me, but my brain just hasn’t been in a good enough place to create much of anything, and I keep thinking I have to get this done and then thinking they deserve better than this, around and around on a loop ad finitum. And there are a couple of other things going on personally that just fucking blow that I don’t know how to fix and I’m just gonna choke on it.

I haven’t done any fandom stuff since NYCC. I haven’t written on my WIP. I haven’t read fic. I don’t check in on the madness happening on twitter. I’ve barely popped my head into my favorite pirate group chat over the last five months or so. I miss doing all of that so much and my stupid brain is so broken that even when I try I can’t enjoy it.

Shit. I’m having a hard time getting work work done. I just sit down at my desk every day, answer emails, and then spend five or so hours frozen with anxiety because there’s too much to do and doing nothing is only making it worse every day.

I need to be back in therapy ASAP, but unfortunately you can’t eat therapy so I can’t pay for it!!

And I feel guilty saying any of this to almost everyone I would usually talk to. (Congrats and condolences to the rest of you!) Because they’re having a harder time than me. Or because they’d just want to give me a bit of money about it, which would fuck me up even more. Or because it’s just tedious and boring and no one wants to listen to me talk about this over and over again, even though it’s all my brain does every hour of every day. It’s a wonder I’m ever able to talk about anything else.

My boss is pretty great, in spite of it all. She’s constantly supportive (to the extent she can be), and she just. She tells me all the time how creative and wonderful and smart and cool to know I am. And every time I just like, tear up, because none of it feels true. But I also tear up when my friends and my partner say those things too. Because to me, a full grown adult without a savings or a 401K or the ability to like, go get drinks just because I want to, I feel like a complete and utter failure.  So like. Whatever I guess!!

I need to find a new job that pays me way more. Then I can get a therapist to fix my brain and save money to pay down my debts and have money to have fun with my friends and not feel like a constant financial burden on everyone. Then I can have the brain power back to maybe work on my fic or complete that art or like, I don’t know, talk to the people who actively want to talk to me. You wouldn't think that part would be so hard, but it really, really is.

I’m working on it. I’ll keep working on it. I have LinkedIn open right now. I’m gonna fucking sob through it, but that doesn’t mean none of it will get done.

In the meantime, if anyone knows of a good way to make a quick $30 grand, I’m all ears.

[decolonize-the-everything]

I can't express my suicidal thoughts and feelings to a real person or confess my previous attempts (that are a year or so behind me now with no danger of it happening soon) because obviously it's not good for that person's mental health, even if I do take out the selfish aspect that they could intervene when I don't want anyone to.

Like, I can vent, and whenever people try to be 'its all going to be okay' 'life is worth living' it makes me want to scream at them because if it was that simple I wouldn't keep feeling like this. if an AI says that I can just let loose with exactly how I feel about that sunshine-and-rainbows-sugar droll that nobody ever really believes in anyways and just say it because they have nothing else to say.

I can't go to a therapist, I can't afford it and even if I could, I'd lose my job because I'm certain that I'd be committed against my will for how bad my feelings get, and I don't want to have to walk on eggshells when explaining my feelings in a way that won't get me put in a ward or have someone think far less of me knowing how unstable I am.

and when I get sick of talking or am in too bad of a mood to continue, I can just exit the AI instead of leaving a real person freaking out thinking I'm going to go hurt myself or something. so yeah, while human connection is important that's not an option for some of us.

I'm fucking heartbroken that you feel this way.

Not even just because you're obviously so unhappy and upset, but that you feel like other people can't handle you or your feelings.

I think how you feel is part of a Much larger issue. I know what you're talking about, I have a post somewhere about it.

About how people who've been through a lot or feel a lot get called toxic for "trauma dumping" or how they make their "friends" feel uncomfortable and how often people like that (like us) usually end up isolated because of how our feelings effect others.

Nobody says it, but maybe we get texted less often or we slowly start to be phased out of a friend group as they invite us out less and less.

And so you end up with these people who desperately need community and need people and need support and need to feel like they belong somewhere....being completey isolated from all of this and being told THEY are the problem.

You're not. We're not.

To some extent, sure, not everyone can handle people like that. But when it's....everyone? That's no longer preference.

That's structural. That's systemic.

And I just can Not believe that using AI as a stand in for that is an option at all. I mean it's good for if you just wanna blow off steam or scream at something I guess?

But I don't think any of us are ever going to Actually feel better if we keep Letting people treat us like we aren't even worth listening to and enabling that behavior for them through AI.

You should be able to talk to someone who loves you about this. Someone who cares and who is genuinely invested in your well being. Someone worrying about you is GOOD. You're worth worrying about! Let them worry!

They SHOULD be worried! You're ideating of suicide! That's a concern for people who want you to stick around and I hope you see that for the love it is.

I hope you give those people opportunities to be there for you. That's what they want. They worry cuz they care and they want you to feel better and they Don't want to end up at your funeral sooner than they should. If people are annoying about it, it's a testament to them caring.

That said, I know it can get annoying to reassure your friend when You are the one that's depressed, but you gotta remember that their friend wants to die. I don't think it's an inappropriate response to want an annoying amount of reassurance that they won't just drop dead one day ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Just find people who will respect your boundaries; people who, when you say, 'i don't wanna talk about this anymore' or 'i feel like your feelings are being centered over mine right now' and will listen and be gracious with what they demand and expect of you.

Abandoning your friends and yourself by turning to AI instead can not be the right answer for how to handle this. Let them be there even if they're annoying.

That can not be what you need and I truly, honest to God think that this will be worse in the long run for your over all self worth.

What do you mean human interaction isn't an option?

And hey, if you (or anyone else) wanna scream or yell or let off steam in my asks then do it.

If you don't want me to reply or post it, just tell me. If you don't want reassurance then say that. If you don't even want me to Read it then say that and I won't. If you want advice or a reply then say that.

No I'm not an rp blog and I won't ever be one and I won't reply like I'm a character lol

But I'm an actual person willing to be there okay?

If literally nobody else is, then my asks and dms are open.

Just like, for the fucking love of God do not feel like there is nobody on fucking earth that prepared or emotionally equipped to handle your feelings.

Like I know this sounds like a cringey pick me kindve answer but like.

It's very, very important to me that you don't think so little of your peers and yourself that you would turn to AI out of a need to be comfortably and conveniently suicidal.

My application:

I'm a mom who reads a lot of gentle parenting books

Learned a Lot about regulating emotions and naming them so I could teach my kid emotional intelligence

In and out of therapy myself since I was 14 and honestly probably should've been there before that

I read like a Lot of psychology books and articles

I too have depression and suicidal ideation and I Get that people can be annoying abt it

Im actively becoming a happier person and learning to enjoy life so I also Get what people mean when they say 'it gets better' (it does but not literally if that makes sense)

I'm also not actually in therapy anymore because of bad experiences

Promise not to have you committed

Has actually been committed (5250 gang waddup) and imo it wasn't an awful experience but that's probably because the environment was chaotic enough to feel weirdly like home but we can talk about that too if you want

You do not need to sugarcoat or sugar-rainbows bullshit me cuz I've literally been there (I even snuck a soda tab into the psych facility the hospital transferred me to 💀)

Can't promise you I'll know the exact right thing to say but I will always keep it real and no bs with no flowery bs that doesn't actually mean anything to either of us

[sophieinwonderland]

Additional points that we...KIND OF made in two different posts yesterday (not even having to do with the current debacle, just...in general) that we feel is very important, and are just going to re-post in here:

You should believe endogenics exist first and foremost because they tell you they exist.

It's nice that science is starting to support us and the DSM and ICD are doing great at getting better for that, but it's still the weapon of our oppressors.

Just a few decades ago, you'd be anti-science for saying transgender people AREN'T a mental illness.

It is very, very easy to see how that can change back once you realize progress is not linear. "Progress is not linear" is the part individuals seem to forget (and we're not gonna lie, we sometimes do too, because that's terrifying to think about).

We feel like discourse wouldn't be discourse anymore if people acknowledged that because a lot of them would be forced to, we guess, question the acceptability of targeting X over Y and Z, and why they give A and B more authority over how X experiences their lives than even over X — if we can use letters in placement of actual groups of people here for a sec.

<Context note for people who do not know us, Rusanya: we agree with Sophie on a ton of points and enjoy her blog. We have an anti-psychiatry [institution, not the science itself, although we feel only bad-faith readers would see that?] and pro-mad-pride spin on our world view though, compared to Sophie. So sometimes we like throwing random things in her inbox because she's like the One Person who can pick our brain and it feels like she is not being an asshole.>

I do think in an ideal world, people would be respected for their identities regardless of opinions of authority figures.

But at the same time, I think the best path to acceptance is to direct arguments to the world you live in, not the one you want. And that means taking things that have historically been weapons of oppression and turning them against the oppressors.

Because the fact is that psychologists and psychiatrists are seen as a valid authority on matters of psychology.

Is there a possibility that the pendulum could swing the other way, that hard anti-endo sentiment could somehow take root in the psychiatric community? Sure. And if that happens, we'll have to adapt and figure out how to deal with that to the best of our ability.

But... I don't think it will happen. I mean, we already know the Stanford tulpa study is going to show neurological differences in tulpamancers. Whatever those differences may be, I think endogenic plurality being accepted as a real psychological phenomenon is inevitable.

On the other hand, we do have to acknowledge that we've seen backslides before. The False Memory Syndrome Foundation in the 90s successfully managed to turn an entire generation against trauma survivors and their therapists, and made diagnosing DID toxic to the point that therapists completely refused to diagnose it. So we can't say what the future will hold for certain.

To me though, I think this just means it's important to be vigilant, and try to foster positive relationships with the psychiatric community.

Because I also think most people who go into psychiatry do so because they genuinely want to help people. Yes, there are bad psychiatrists and there are abusive ones. And there are well-meaning ones who end up causing more harm than good because they think they know better. There are a lot of problems in psychiatry that need to be addressed. But I don't feel that fostering an adversarial relationship is a productive way to accomplish our community's goals.

[non-un-topo]

I think we need to talk more about the nuance of transition.

Specifically, the diversity of transition and the ways in which a person's gender and presentation can fluctuate and never reach an "end."

The first time I tried to get on T, I second-guessed and disappeared. Didn't answer calls from doctors, didn't reach out. I had seen an openly trans psychotherapist a few times as he was guiding me through the steps to accessing hormones. When he asked me when I started to feel "this way" about my gender, I answered that it had been fairly recent, maybe a few years. His response was that that was strange, because "most people figure it out when they hit puberty." Well, that shut me up and I haven't spoken to a therapist about transition since. It's clear to me now that he was approaching transness from a medical background. The medical model of course has not been a favourite of the trans community, myself included. It conceptualizes transness in terms of deficit, self-hatred, misery, and it envisions transition as an end.

This idea of end, of the reached destination, terrified me at twenty-three and it terrifies me now. How are twenty-three year olds, middle-schoolers, or kids approaching puberty, supposed to be able to envision their end, and to argue their case with such certainty if they want access to methods of transition? Where is the elbow room for change, evolution, and discovery, and even "mistakes"?

Many trans individuals, some colleagues of my own included, say they have always known who they are and what their gender is. This is the dominant trans narrative for a reason. I don't mean to discredit their words and their stories. It is not anyone's business to tell another person who they are or are not, and above all we should all continue to advocate for the voices of trans kids to be heard and honoured.

The philosophy of discovering who you "truly" are, of "finding" yourself, even of "cracking your egg" is starting to sound heavily Western and neoliberal. There is rarely a conversation about how our identities are changed by others, our environments, or by ourselves. Instead the dominant conversation around transition is centred in finding the true self. I criticize this philosophy because of its limitation. It is an end.

I recently joined a support group, and in the first meeting I attended my colleagues talked about finding their names, and about bridges. They shared stories of their own name decision-making processes, and how they used "temporary" new names as placeholders for their true names. A "bridge," they called it. I loved this sentiment. It spoke to the idea that gender and identity are more fluid than we are taught to believe, and I of course did this temporary name thing, too. But still with all of my colleagues there was this idea of truth, of finality.

I criticize it because it is another barrier of access to transition. People seeking means for medical transition are expected to be one-hundred percent, without-a-doubt-sure of their gender identity and of their future decisions regarding transition. It's starting to sound like a way to gatekeep transition, to bar access from those who are not "trans enough" because they do not fit the medical model's description. We know this. We've had these conversations before.

If we keep thinking about transness only in terms of the true self, the cracked egg, then we leave little room for those who are curious, for those who simply want to be creative with their identities, cisgender people included.

In writing this, I had to really fight the urge to go back and outline all the "clues" in my childhood that point towards my transness. I fought this because that is exactly what we as trans (genderqueer, genderfluid, trans* etc) people are supposed to do if we want to be believed. As if the only way to legitimize transness is to have "all the signs" in early childhood, as if transness is some chronic disease. Don't get me wrong --- this remembering and legitimizing works for some people, myself included. It is the way we know how to learn about ourselves. And at the same time, it is a key part of the transmedicalist approach.

We should not have to explain our histories and be certain of our futures to be believed and to have access to care.

It's an abusive relationship dynamic between the trans individual and institutions --- the desperation to explain ourselves in detail, explain our histories and our possible futures, so the institutions might allow us access to methods of transition.

The sooner we explore more possibilities beyond the idea that transness and transition are the final self, that transness is some chronic and fatal condition diagnosable from self-hatred cues in childhood, the sooner we can remove barriers of access to trans kids, and invite more people into the excitement, creativity, and nuance of trans experiences.

[mirandasidefics]

Hi! Omg Loved the latest chapter of "but home is nowhere." I feel bad for our main character, to be called anothers womans name? ouch this poor girl can not catch a break! I'm usually a hardcore Az girlie but I'm honestly starting to root for Lucian, he seems to be the only one really that respects her and want her for her IMO. I think Ruhn is still hung up with what happened with Lidia and honestly this whole group needs some serious therapy. I'm really interested in seeing if this "break" from Ruhn will give more space for Azriel to become more a support for her. But I do have a questions. And really our main girl asks it in Chapter ten. "“One good deed doesn’t guarantee trust,” You quickly turned away from him, damning your stubborn pride. “Trust takes time. And why does everyone care so much about who sleeps next to me?” Of course, the male had no answer for that. " Like why do they all care who is in her bed, sexual or otherwise? Is it solely because she is human? Like Nesta slept around before she accepted her bond with Cass (no judgment, just fact) and Eline was all over Az (and him her) and Eline has yet to accept the bond so like what is the deal? I guess Rhys admits to this in the bonus chapter about having a "half breed" and how it would "harder" on the fae after she does, but like why is everyone in the IC just up in arms about it. Seems rather sus to me.

Anyways that's my question/rant lol great writing! As always looking forward to the next chapter

Honestly, yes everyone in ACOTAR and Crescent City are in desperate need of therapy. Unfortunately, our girl is no therapist so she can't help on that professional level, but she is a good friend to those she cares for. Ruhn does have some processing to do if his and Reader's dynamic is to progress beyond the friendship they have now.

As far as why everyone is so preoccupied with her sleeping companions, the answer is complex. Most of the characters don't really care if she were to be promiscuous (which she isn't) as most of them have quite the high body counts themselves. Those that participated in the bet (Bryce, Nesta, and Amren), mainly just want to see those involved happy (Reader, Ruhn, Lucien, and Azriel). It is mainly Rhysand (and to a lesser extent Azriel) that have issues leading to their preoccupations with her sex life/sleeping companions.

Rhysand doesn't really care if Reader starts a relationship with Ruhn but does care if that relationship results in her leaving Prythian and then some shit going down. Rhys recognizes that Reader is in their world for a reason and is wary of what that reason could be. Rhysand also isn't concerned about Reader and Azriel as he just doesn't see that as an option at this time.

Rhysand does care if Reader were to start a relationship with Lucien. The main reason is that Lucien is a mated male. In addition to the Fae's belief that the mating bond is scared, Lucien is a beneficial ally for the Night Court to have. Lucien is only willing to even work with the Night Court because his mate is currently living there. Rhysand has already demonstrated that he doesn't want to lose Lucien (or anyone that Lucien is politically tied to) as an ally. So, ensuing that Lucien and Elain's mating bond is free to progress however it needs to, fits into Rhysand's personal agenda. He sees Lucien and Reader's relationship in much the same way that he sees Azriel and Elain's. Thus, if Rhysand says their relationship is an issue, it is only natural that his second and third in command would assist in making sure that it doesn't progress beyond a friendship. (Personally, neither Mor nor Amren really care, and wouldn't have interfered/commented if Rhysand hadn't instructed them to do so.)

Essentially, by appearing that he is worried about Reader's sleeping companions/relationships Rhysand can manipulate other aspects of the overall situation. It's all about him keeping control over a situation that he doesn't have any control over with the belief that it is for the good of his loved ones and his court.

Azriel's concerns and thus motivations for his preoccupation with Reader and her sleeping companions are different from Rhysand's. I won't go into too much detail here because they will be explored further in later chapters.

What I love about writing this story is the complexity of all the characters involved and their various motivations. There is so much beyond the romance aspect of this story that I have planned and I'm super excited to share that with you all in the next chapter!

[mintartem]

Adam get actual therapy and Charlie is his therapist. One day in the hotel Charlie having group therapy there Adam need reassurance

Adam: Um, I-I guess my question is do you... do you think it's too late for me?

Charlie: What?

Adam: I mean a-a-a-a-a-a-am I just doomed to be the person that I am? Th-The person in that book? I mean i-it's not too late for me, is it? It's not too late? Charlie, I need you to tell me it's not too late.

Charlie: Adam, I...

Adam : I-I-I-I need you to tell me that I'm a good person. I know that I can be selfish and narcissistic and self-destructive, but underneath all that, deep down, I'm a good person, and I need you to tell me that I'm good. Charlie? Tell me, please, Charlie. Tell me that I'm good.

Angel dust : Hey, aren't you the first man from bible?

Charlie: Do you want to be a better person?

Adam: I don't know

Charlie: You can start with step by step. I know there's good in you but you have to work on your part too. Angel is also wasn't a good person but i know he just need support and help so does you

Aiming to break my heart don’t you, anon? I love this! What delicious angst for a fine day! It’s nice to know that Adam finally gets his much needed therapy.

Maybe Lucifer overhears it too? (If we’re going adamsapple route here). Lucifer is praising Adam, assuring him that he is doing so well. It’s not sexual. It’s genuine comfort. Just them cuddling on the bed, illuminated by the light of outside from the open curtains.

[anti-endo-safe-space]

omg i have been dyyying to say this but if i say this on my blog i will get burned at the stake by endos & supporters ;-;

imo, if being 'endogenic' just meant someone with a CDD who didn't form from trauma i'd be like 'hey.. as far as current science goes, that has not been supported as something that can happen, however if your therapist & whoever else diagnosed you can agree that you *do not have any trauma* yet have a CDD then i guess you're fine & i'm okay to interact with you'

but that's not what they usually mean. it's now an umbrella term & heavily associated with willowgenic, xeno-origins, western """tulpamancy""" & other froms of non-disordered, non-medical & non-traumagenic plurality. which is not my experience at all & therefore it makes me uncomfortable that they're still using medical language, being in CDD spaces, etc.

that's what i have a problem with! & that first type of endo that i talked about 99.999999% of the time engages with & supports the second group of endos strongly.

i hope that makes sense...? thanks for this blog xoxo gossip girl

That's why even our personal blog is firmly anti-endo (most support we ever got was from our anti-endo post lol).

Exactly! We're firm believers in science, and does psychology always know everything? No. I mean, we're autistic (which if in future posts we don't say it, some of us like Lucie hate to label himself as autistic because some of us (like me, Reg) are affected much stronger than others) and that wasn't a diagnosis until the 1940s. Even then it didn't start getting regularly diagnosed for decades AFTER that. But when studies and psychology have shown yeah you need trauma? I mean agree to disagree with them, please don't interact with our pages due to our issues with endos. We won't hate on you, don't hate on us (we had several endos who told us to kill ourselves for being anti-endo and we deserved our trauma)

I'm sorry but we will DIE on the hill that willogenic and shit are fake as hell (which we hate to use tulpagenic because tulpamancy is a very closed practice to certain regions of the Buddhist faith).

It makes sense don't worry Gossip Girl. If anyone gives you shit, we're here to vent to or ask advice, we don't care.

We've decided we'll add this to the end of all our posts due to a comment we had of "ha imagine this taking off", endos aren't valid or real. Try to come after us with that and we're going to just laugh at you and block you.

[lythea-creation]

Brighten My World - Tasneem x fem reader (Chapter 2)

Previous Chapter

warnings: grieving

word count: 1.121

-------------------

Before Tasneem had become my girlfriend she had kept me a secret. She would only meet me at school when nobody was around. Her friends had had no idea that we were even interacting at all.

But now it had all changed. They all did not know the whole truth because we had decided to wait a bit longer to tell anyone about our kind of relationship. But Tasneem was trying to integrate me in her friend group.

“Have you taken in a stray?”, was Hiba's first reaction when Tasneem had introduced me to her friends.

“Shut it, Hiba”, Tasneem shot back angrily. “I won't let it slip if you try to pull her down.”

“Woah! What's gotten into you? First Sarah and now that freak? What are you trying to accomplish? Improving your status by taking in outcasts? Is Shams next then?”, Hiba mocked her.

“You know what? Forget it!”, Tasneem exclaimed and pulled me away from then.

I could feel Hiba's eyes boring into my back.

“I'm sorry, (f/n). I should have expected Hiba to act out. If I had known it, I wouldn't have tried in the first place”, Tasneem stated. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, it's fine. Don't worry about it”, I brushed it off.

“Please don't lie to me, okay? You don't have to pretend around me”, she assured me.

We were coming to a hold between two buildings, a corridor where barely any students came by.

Tasneem was still holding my hand, waiting for a reply.

“Of course it always hurts a bit to be rejected. But I didn't really hope for anything. So it doesn't bother me too much”, I explained.

“You shouldn't stop hoping for good things to happen, (f/n)”, Tasneem considered.

“Yeah, I know”, I admitted. “After all you're the best reminder that there's still hope. I guess it's just a bad habit I picked up.”

Tasneem sent me a sympathetic smile.

“Speaking of bad habits … have you finally talked to your mom about seeing a therapist?”, I wondered.

Her body language was answer enough.

“Tasneem, you need to work through it all. I can only help you so much and you never know when I'm not around anymore”, I remarked.

“Why? Are you planning to leave me already?”, she worried.

“Of course not”, I reassured her. “Sometimes you don't have a choice though.”

“That's not the first time you're saying that”, she recalled. “Why are you worrying about that so much?”

“It's my thing I have to deal with”, I alluded.

The ringing of the school bell signaled the end of the break before we could deepen the topic. I did not know if I should curse or thank it as this conversation was just as tough as it was inevitable if I wanted to build a trustful relationship with Tasneem.

After school I was visiting Tasneem again. Her mom was not even questioning my presence anymore, already expecting me to join them for dinner.

Shortly after entering Tasneem's room we ended up on her bed in a make-out session, hoping that her mom would not walk in on us.

When we were both too exhausted to continue we switched over to cuddling.

“Do you wanna tell me now? About the thing that's hurting you so much?”, Tasneem questioned.

“I haven't worked through it yet. The last time I tried to tell you I broke down crying”, I reminded her.

“I wouldn't mind comforting you”, she noted. “But you don't have to tell me if you don't feel ready for it.”

Tasneem was caressing my cheek with her hand, a gesture that was relaxing me to no end.

“What if it makes you uncomfortable?”, I considered.

���Why should it?”

“It's about the last person I had a crush on, my first love”, I confessed.

She took a deep breath. “You lost her?”

I nodded slightly, holding onto her other hand for support.

“I was too scared to tell her. And now I never will. That was the only reason why I was able to gather the courage to tell you about my feelings for you”, I proposed.

“And why you're always afraid that we won't stay together as well”, she concluded.

“Yeah”, I whispered.

Silent tears were running down my cheeks. But with Tasneem still caressing my cheek and having her to hold onto, I could hold it in check. Stop it from paralyzing me again.

“It was Layan”, I enlightened her.

Tasneem gasped at the revelation. Now I could see tears in her eyes as well.

“She was the closest person I had and Rania, her best friend, told me that Layan loved me, too. But Layan didn't want to admit it to herself. So she tried to be with someone else, which killed her in the end”, I declared.

My crying was getting stronger the more I was talking. I was choking on some words, but continued anyway: “If I had just told her, she might still be alive. It feels like it's all my fault.”

Now I could not control the sobs anymore.

Tasneem switched over to holding me in a tight embrace, until my crying settled down again.

“I'm so sorry you have to endure all of this”, she whispered. “I wish I could make it better.”

“You are”, I uttered, clinging even more to her.

We stayed like that for a while, my breathing regulating itself.

Tasneem placed a kiss on my head. “I love you”, she proposed.

“I love you, too”, I mumbled into her chest. “Thank you for wanting to be with me.”

“You were the one who started helping me first, remember?”

“Doesn't matter”, I pointed out. “That doesn't oblige you to be my girlfriend.”

“True”, she stated. “But that made me get to know and love you. It's awful what happened with Layan, but it isn't your fault that she made the wrong decisions or her brother in that matter. And even if you feel guilty about it, it made you save me.”

“I never thought about it like that”, I admitted.

“What do you think about going out and enjoying ourselves a bit? We don't have to if you're too exhausted or not in the mood for it. But I think it might help”, Tasneem suggested.

“I wanna do what makes you happy. Seeing you smile always cheers me up”, I proclaimed.

Ironically my words caused her to smile at me.

“That won't be hard then”, she supposed and pulled me up with her.

--------------------

Next Chapter

This story is ripping my heart out in the best way. I'm feeling so lucky to get to write it. I hope you like it, too.

Btw I somehow turned this oneshot into a series. I've already written chapter 3 as well. I didn't plan it. It just happened. But I'm glad it did.

Tag List: @sunwoniie

[woman-for-women]

hii! i was wondering if there was anywhere I could message you privately? i’m a 14 year old girl who socially IDed as FtM for 5 years but now want to detransition and I don’t know where to go or where to start. xx

Hi! Firstly, you can message me, but if that's something that makes you uncomfortable, I can try to point you to resources right here! Feel free to send other asks :)

Talk to a trusted adult in your life. It could be a parent, an aunt/uncle, a teacher, or an older sibling. The adults in your life probably want the best for your health and happiness. It's great if you reach out to me, but at the end of the day, the adults in your life know you the best and would probably want you to talk to them first before a stranger on the internet. I'm guessing your parents will probably be open to hearing what you have to say.

Contact your doctor or a local gender clinic and ask if they can point you towards detransitioning resources.

Search online and see if there are any detransition support groups near you (unlikely this will pan out, but it's worth a try). If you happen to know anyone who has detransitioned, you can also reach out to them.

If you are able to, please look into counseling. If you are dysphoric, you can ask for a counselor that will help you explore your discomfort with your body/gender roles and reconcile your relationship with your body. I’d avoid any therapists who advertise themselves as LGBTQIA2S+ friendly: they may be well meaning, but their primary method of treatment for dysphoria will likely be transition. Therapists and other mental health professionals tend to have bios where they list their background and what they specialize in: I'd suggest looking for a therapist who is female, and possibly someone who is comfortable gender non-conforming (someone who doesn't see being unhappy with gender roles or gender non-conforming as being the same as being trans). I went to a counselor who was an older lesbian. You can also send an email to Gender Exploratory Therapy Association (GETA) to see if they can match you with a therapist.

You can journal how you feel. It doesn't need to be fancy (it can be a notes page on your phone or some binder paper, but if journaling with markers and stickers and washi tape helps, you can do that too). Ask yourself what made you feel like you weren't or couldn't be a woman/girl? What does the thought of detransitioning make you feel? It can just be how you feel in general. If you're comfortable, you can also share your journal with a trusted adult or counselor. Or, it can just be for your eyes only.

Work on improving your integrity and comfort with your body. It helps you feel wonderful feelings, taste your favorite foods, see beautiful things... your body is not trying to hurt you or work against you. For example, your body is not menstruating because it is "punishing" you for not being pregnant (this is something I heard a lot growing up). Menstruation is just something female bodies do. It's vital to regulating your hormonal health, bone density, and weight. While yes, you can get pregnant and be a parent if you choose to as an adult, your body is not telling you to do anything. Your bodily functions are not a mandate. You exist for you!

Try to avoid seeing your body as a problem, or as fractured parts you want to fix: your body is just your body. Don't think of your body as a decorative object you need to change to please anyone. Your body exists for you and (most importantly) your body is you. Treating your body well is part of treating yourself well.

To improve your relationship with your body, I would recommend picking a sport or physical activity. Do something you like that makes you comfortable! If wearing a swimsuit fills you with dread, wear a more modest one or don't pick swimming. It can be as simple as walking, stretching, or yoga in your room. The point of a physical activity is not just to keep in shape, but to feel how your body is capable of doing whatever you want it to. Your body doesn't have to look a certain way for that.

Your image of your body and your comfort with being female might also improve if you take a social media break. I know it can be hard, but try to commit to a short break (a week, a month). Use this time to read, listen to music, draw, relax, exercise... whatever will keep you happy and healthy. Social media is saturated with images of sexualized, objectified, and impossibly thin women. It can be stressful to feel like you don't "measure up" to what the Internet tells you a woman is supposed to be. Take this time to remind yourself that you don't need to imitate these people to be happy.

I would also recommend you unfollow any social media accounts that make you feel bad about your body or talk about transitioning and gender all the time (you can always refollow later). Focus on how you feel about your body and yourself, not what other people promote.

What or how you decide to change socially, who you tell, or how you say it is up to you. You don't need to disclose why you're detransitioning either. You can just tell people you've decided it wasn't for you or that you'd like to go by your old name/pronouns. Don't let anyone, especially other transitioned peers, pressure you into doing or revealing anything you don't want to. If you have a friend group of trans peers your age, don't let them make you feel bad! You have the right to do what's best for you. If you have friends that aren't supportive of you doing what's best for you, it might be best to look for a new friend group.

If you've been happiest dressing in "boy" clothes or doing certain "boy" activities, none of that has to change when you detransition! Detransitioning should be about accepting that your natal biological sex is female. Being female is a neutral fact, like being brunette or being 167 cm. Being female has no bearing on what you can do, who you can love, what professions, hobbies, or interests you have... that's all gender. You don't have to change how you dress, think, feel, act, talk, etc. None of these things can disqualify you from being a woman or girl. Just be yourself and know there's no wrong way to be female.

Being a woman or girl can be scary. Menstruation sucks, sexual harassment sucks, sexism sucks. But there's light at the end of the tunnel, and that's other women and girls! Reach out to them. They are your lifeline. Build friendships. There are other women and girls just like you. You are never alone.

On that note, having positive female role models and consuming books/TV shows/movies/music by and about women can help you feel better about detransitioning and reconciling with being female.

Don't discount the wisdom of older women! They're not nags, shrews, or "Karens". They're female, too. Many of them have likely felt what you feel.

Detransitioning doesn't mean you need to feel a certain type of way on gender or trans issues. Don't let radical feminists, conservatives, or trans-rights activists bully you into saying or doing what suits their narrative. It's your life, so do what's right for you!

Lastly, here are some resources I would recommend, both about transition and detransition:

A Booklet on Gender Detransition

The risks of binding

Testosterone use and pelvic health

Maybe this is silly, but this comic helped me feel a lot better when I first saw it.

Cosmic Uterus by Ida Neverdahl

Edit: I added some things to the list. Before I forget — the prevailing narrative told to dysphoric and trans-identifying teens is that you need to transition, you need to go on hormones, you need to do xyz or you will die. This is not true. Most dysphoric youth who do not medically transition end up as happy, alive adults. (If you are having suicidal thoughts, please tell a trusted adult or call a hotline). So I’m going to tell you instead what I was told, and what other lesbian, gay, and bisexual kids were told growing up: it gets better. I promise it does. You are so brave. You are going to be okay <3