#normal in quotation marks

[cloudbrooksblog]

TRIGGER WARNINGS/content warnings: mentions of various commonly triggering things, descriptions of car-related triggers, many stupid "get over it" phrases that might be triggering if you're a victim of something, and also mentions of suicide, just read with caution ok?

yknow, I've been thinking about PTSD lately. Specifically people's reactions to me involuntarily displaying symptoms of it (dissociating, having flashbacks that make me cry, avoiding triggers, etc).

Most of this is from people who are related to my main abusers (my parents) but they don't react this way for no reason. They were raised in a culture that thinks this way.

The reactions are all similar: when I have an involuntary or instinctual response to triggers (like the ones I mentioned above), they say that I shouldn't let these things hurt me. Want a couple more specific examples, actually?

I avoid movies with car crashes and dissociate+sometimes have flashbacks when I hear tires or brakes screeching on the street. I start to shake if someone honks their horn near me, even in a parking lot. When I do this, INVOLUNTARILY (i cannot stress it enough), my brother will say that I let it bother me too much. Other assorted reactions I've gotten to this specific circumstance have been "you need to get over this one day", "you can't just avoid cars your whole life", and paraphrased, "you need to move on", "if this bothers you you'll never survive in real life", and "you're so dramatic".

That's just with car-related triggers for my PTSD. Don't get me started with sex jokes, cigarettes, talking about wanting to hurt children, etc. And DONT get me started about people's reactions to me wanting to cut off my family.

If I talk about any of that (when it naturally comes up, usually after questions about why I don't talk to certain people from members I'm about to cut off as soon as I don't have to depend on them,) the general reactions are that I'm like a ghost. Holding onto grudges that are just hurting me, that by holding onto them I'm hurting myself pointlessly, and that if i just *tried a little harder* I could live a much more peaceful and happy life. This is in reaction, let me remind you, to things like... me being uncomfortable around cigarettes. Me flinching when I hear sex jokes. Me leaving the room when people start talking about wanting to beat up kids and strangle them. I'm holding a grudge! I'll be encountering these things for the rest of my life!

That last one I get a lot, too. I'll be encountering these things for the rest of my life.

Let me tell you a secret. That's why I tried killing myself. That's why I've been to crisis facilities 6 different times. That's why I've made plans to move off-grid, to move to somewhere isolated, etc. But since I'm still right fucking here, obviously I'm not going to do any of that. So why point it out? Why point that out, as though it's not something you just WITNESSED my way of coping with?

Yes, I'll be encountering PTSD triggers the rest of my life. And every time I do, I will avoid them. That's why I don't buy into the whole "just try a little harder" angle. I'm not going to waste my time and my life trying to do that. This isn't a fear. This isn't a phobia. I don't sprint the opposite direction whenever a car honks and I'm walking on the sidewalk. I still have friends who smoke various things my abusers did. My PTSD still gets triggered by it, and I still get uncomfortable when they smoke. But you know what? They're my friends. They understand that and don't get annoyed at me for being uncomfortable. My friends who make sex jokes do it even though it makes me flinch because I've made it very clear: I'm going to react to them. It's not an insult. There's no need to feel bad. It's just nature.

When you tell me to get over it, it's NOT because you care. Convince yourself that it is, but listen closely: You're making it WORSE. And people with PTSD tell you that. And you ignore them, because you don't really care. Our PTSD just makes you uncomfortable and annoyed. It's inconvenient to think about and be around.

I'm not going to brute-force my way out of having triggers. It's just not happening. I'm going to have these involuntary responses. If you're my friend, you'll deal with it and understand the truth:

It's just nature :) deal with it. It's worse for me than it is for you, you selfish person.

[necessary-quotation-marks]

Connell wished he knew how other people conducted their private live, so that he could copy from example.

Sally Rooney (Normal People)

[strayloveletter]

i just finished normal people and while i am deeply attached to some of the characters… the book wasn’t as profound as i was hoping for it to be.

[author-chan06]

Trick or treat for remrom

Heya, jewels! So nice to have another trick or treater! I spun the wheel and… Another treat it is! And for you I have a fic about reincarnation, with an established relationship, codependency, spells, mind melding, and a happy ending! Pairing: Remrom/ Roman Sanders/Remus Sanders Wordcount: 1,580 A/N: I swear I am spinning a wheel and just got treat again ahah, I’m not sure what I would do for trick but I’m sure it’d be fun, either way, this one is kinda different from what I normally do, because at first Remus and Roman aren’t as connected as they usually are. Which was just as strange to write for me, as it was for them to experience. Luckily I fixed that for them (and for myself ahah) Tws: Codependency, Isolation, Reincarnation and Loss, Mind Melding and Mind Reading, No Privacy

Mending Our Broken Mind Into One

Summary: Roman and Remus got a spell from a witch that will allow them meld their minds into one like they used to be.

“No, c’mon, Ro— the witches pretty website says you gotta put the candles like—” Remus shoves the candle about two inches to the side and grins when Roman merely sighs and agrees, fixing the others, and leaning back over the laptop’s glowing screen with Remus, trying to read the words as they swim across the page.

But Roman looks up at the time and almost jumps, only stopping himself because he knows it would hit his brother, and instead turning around. Which Remus easily allows, arms encircling his waist and chest pulling away from his to look down at him with a curious expression. “We need this done in about two minutes or we’ll have to try for another night. It says three thirty on the dot, and it is already three twenty eight, so—”

Remus grins and pulls away fully, and Roman tries to ignore the shiver that runs over his skin at the separation. “No problemo, bro! All we need now is the incantation and we’re all good! Lets just settle down— you can sit on my lap if you wanna,” He wiggles his brows and Roman flushes, but they both know that the spell says they have to specifically sit opposite each other. Even if they don’t like it. “Read the incantation. Make our dreams come true, then boom! Have Halloween sex and go to dreamland!”

“How is Halloween sex any different than normal?” Roman asks in amusement.

“Ro,” He hums. “It’s getting closer to thirty.”

Roman jolts, letting out a quick, “Yes right,” and quickly scrambling to close down the laptop, open up to the correct incantation in the witches book, and sit down at the right spot on the circle, as Remus follows behind with a grin and a laugh in his throat.

Roman tries to ignore the burn of his cheeks, and clears his throat, as he starts to read. The words seem to leap off the page, echoing across the space, something heavy growing in the middle of the circle the farther down he reads until the book almost slips out his hands, grip turning sweaty and shaking, mind trying to spin away with him. He braces it with his other hand, and his knees as well as he can without moving out of the position it gives them, and blinks rapidly, painfully, through the way the pages start to light up, as if a miniature sun is erupting from it and trying to dig into his eyes. 

It grows brighter and brighter, so hard to look at his eyes water, brighter and brighter and brighter and—

The lights shut off and Roman has to swallow around a lump in his throat to continue the chant, his voice shaking but still going, still the words tumble off his tongue. He can still feel Remus in the room, right in front of him, eyes sharp as they watch him, green flashing in the dark, hopeful and strong and his, and it calms him just enough to finish.

Roman pauses his movements, hands holding the books finally lowering, stomach twisting, and looks around. Nothing has changed so far, but… something has shifted in the atmosphere,

The silence is unsettling, as it always is this early in the morning, but neither of them move or speak to break it. They both wait with baited breath, eyes darting around the room and trying to see if anything has changed, if anything will pop up, if it worked.

Nothing immediately jumps out at them, but after a few minutes the lights flicker back on and the weight in Roman’s chest lifts, as if it inherently knows that they no longer have a reason to worry, and when he looks over at Remus he feels the echoing of his emotions— disbelief, excitement, something so all encompassing and too familiar to describe— and he can tell that Remus wants to finally break the circle and rush over to him and curl around him forever, and it’s well, Roman has always just wanted, so— 

Roman nods his head, letting the book thunk to the ground as Remus does just that, scrambling over and pressing them together, and Roman digs himself into his brother, mind jumbled and yet clearer than ever, the press of Remus against his feels different, more natural and yet more alien, but he loves it so much that he slides his hand across Remus’ neck and cups his face, a giddiness that he’s never experienced before bubbling under his skin as he looks at Remus and can practically hear his thoughts in his own mind, as welcome and as natural as breathing; and it’s the thing they’ve been missing for their twenty years on this planet.

“Oh Aphrodite,” Roman whispers, something like tears burning behind his eyes when a flicker of amusement and awe slides through his mind in response, not his own but still his because that’s— “This feels exactly like— Re, you can feel it too—”

“Yeah,” Remus agrees, leaning into his hand, his own coming to sit on top, another grabbing at the back of his shirt before sliding underneath, “Yeah, it feels exactly like back then. Like we’re—”

“In each other's minds. Two halves of one hole.” Roman finishes easy, almost absentmindedly, and yet it has his entire focus, just like the hand on his and on his back has his full attention. Scars and calluses and something else sliding across; he shivers; he wonders what kissing would feel like like this. “It’s exactly what we were hoping for.” 

Because he knows that for sure now, no more doubt can exist. Roman knows exactly what his brother’s feelings are— awe, excitement, a bit of shock at it working, a little bit of horniness at the way their skin is pressed together, warmth warmth warmth happy happy happy— what he’s thinking— he’s happy and wanting, just like Roman, and he wants to touch everywhere, and to stare at him, to create with him forever, to talk and laugh and have— and he knows that Remus can feel him too. They know each other inside and out now— just like they used to, just like they always should have been able to.

Roman never thought they’d get this again— when they’d woken up in another world, in seperate bodies and separate minds, no Thomas anywhere, no other Sides there to greet them, forced to live new lives in a way that felt so very foreign— and it has always ached, like the Split but even deeper, like a cleaver had been taken to his very essence. But this— this is a sewing together, a melding, to fix them, to get them back to being… one.

His hands curl around his brother and he laughs; it’s watery and amused but something almost angry rises under it, and Remus notices, pressing a kiss to his cheek before sliding a hand higher underneath his shirt, and whispering into the night, “It’s alright, Ro, we’re back now. The witch said this is permanent, remember? As long as we stay up through Halloween, then…” Remus prompts him, and Roman huffs a laugh, and lets himself press his nose against his collarbone, eyes fluttering shut.

“Then we’ll be able to be really connected. Yes, yes. I know.” A poke to the head and he peeks out of his half shut eyelids, a small smile twitching his lips. “I’m not falling asleep,” He yanks at his brother's shirt until Remus leans closer, and smiles, the warmth of his chest spreading to his fingertips as he says wryly, “I am merely resting because of how long you kept me awake last night. Despite how much I reminded you that we would need the energy today.”

“I did say that Halloween sex is different.”

Roman laughs, “That wasn’t Halloween. It is Halloween now.” But he cannot deny he doesn’t really mind. Remus knows this, of course, but he doesn’t bring it up, only shrugging and scooting closer, legs tangling with Roman, hands clasping.

Remus grins and Roman has to squeeze his hand and feel the flair of warm happy amused just because he has to. “No, it was all Hallows Eve.”

“That’s,” Roman snorts and giggles, leaning his forehead against his brother’s, and he’s sure he’s projecting the same feelings right back, tangling in both of their chests just like their limbs are, heating the air around them despite the chill outside, “That is not what that phrase means and you know it.”

“Yeah,” Remus agrees easily, “I do.”

They both giggle this time and pull closer, closing their eyes, not sleeping, but their chests going warm enough that they cannot help it. That it feels natural, obvious. Roman thinks that if he tries enough he might even be able to look through his brother’s eyes, that he could shut his own and open up to see his own face staring at him in naked adoration.

He doesn’t try it yet, but he does press a kiss to his brother's lips and sigh with a small smile.

Yes, despite Roman’s doubt of this, he is glad that he allowed Remus full reign this week, because when he reaches out and feels him— content, shimmying in place, wondering what he might let him do now, in love love love in need need need— Roman feels something old, ancient, something primal, that used to ache fiercely dull to warmth.

Remus echoes it back, and Roman finally relaxes.

@remrom-trickrtreat

[apolloskazoo]

me after taking 25 whole minutes to write out a two-sentence comment under a fic: I dunno maybe it sounds weird and I shouldn’t comment after all….

[bassguitarinablackt-shirt]

trying so hard to post the "normal" thoughts about luke castellan and not the gay ones

[st4rstudent]

I'm not mad, just disappointed

[starpros-sunshine]

You can use a lot of words you know? You don't have to talk yourself around stuff like "It's famous Nazi code for an abbreviation for their popular motto which I won't be repeating here" when you really can just explain that 88 is supposed to represent the Hitler salute because H is the 8th letter in the alphabet? You don't even have to say the words but I mean wouldn't it make more sense to actually explain something instead of vaguely talking around it for some sense of...of what? What's the use in nor calling the thing by it's name? Won't that do more harm than good? I mean if people know they shouldnt do something but don't really know why then they won't take it that serious no?

[frozenartscapes]

I don't know why I was thinking about this but I got wondering about those silly little fandom things like what kind of dog would represent certain characters for Spy x Family, and like...

Loid and Anya are kind of obvious. Anya's something small and cute with stubby legs, like a chihuahua or a dachshund. Maybe a pomeranian. And Loid is one of those working dogs who can be highly trained but are also incredibly protective, like a German shepherd or a malinois.

But Yor...

If Yor and, by extension, Yuri are anything other than "husky/shepherd mixes" that were found abandoned on the side of the road by a well-meaning yet clueless individual who didn't know enough about dogs to realize they accidentally domesticated two wolf pups... Then I don't know what we're doing here

[dualitieds]

WIP but just know I ain’t cooking at all

[mx-autumn]

There are no answers

But what would i do

If you had not been my friend?

[johndonneswife]

i have a serious problem called ‘being normal’ and it manifests in such an undeniable way when i’m around random friends who know nothing about 1d / my ~internet history~ because sometimes a random h*rry song will start playing wherever we are and i’ll just go: ‘oh. did you hear he died?’

and the worst part is that im so earnest about it people BELIEVE me and then eventually it’s just like ‘oh kari why’d you lie about that ugly man being dead? why would you do that? what’s his deal?’ and then i have to pretend to be normal agaaaain and again and again and not say shit like ‘and many false prophets will arise and lead many astray’ because if i start quoting matthew they’re going to think i’m religious and i can’t have people thinking that, so then i’ll have to correct myself by saying ‘no i was just deeply obsessed with the biblical elements on the cw’s supernatural in 2014 and need a lobotomy’

and then i’m digging my own grave all over again. i fear

[necessary-quotation-marks]

Life is the thing you bring with you inside your head.

Sally Rooney (Normal People)

[toxi-works-at-culvers]

I cannot think of any questions ummm. What is your William's options on Showbiz and Chuck e Cheese

How did the first springlock failure affect him (mentally and/or physically)

Any fun facts about your au?

Halloween store butterfly skeleton

i think william would have mixed feelings. like oh yay more appreciation for animatronics. but like i bet he'd think they suck because they cant free roam and he'd think his animatronics are WAY better than theirs. while also being jealous about their success at the same time because he's an envious little freak (affectionate)

and oh i love thinking about how the springlock incident affected him! i'd say its the #1 reason for his fear of death, because he came so close to it and. that was obviously quite frightening to see how easily his life could slip away. definitely fucked him up quite a bit both physically and mentally. as for physically i like the idea he has some kind of chronic pain from it because theres no way he came outta that with no lasting damage. he also probably makes an effort to always keep his scars hidden. for fun facts i dont really have anything specific but maybe birthdays count as a fun fact!

William’s Birthday: September 19th, 1947 (36 in 1983)

Michael’s Birthday: June 22nd, 1969 (14 in 1983)

Elizabeth’s Birthday: September 1974 (9 in 1983)

(CC) Evan’s Birthday: August 1977 (6 in 1983)

The Skeleton

[constellarcreator]

Alright fuck it *headcanons Raz as a system*

[apopcornkernel]

thank you @passionfruitbowls for the tag!! <3

rules: post the last seven lines of your wip, and then tag no more than seven people to continue

i am also really lazy and havent been active on tumblr much so if you see this post, then YOU 🫵 have been tagged!! no matter if we're mutuals or not!!

now onto the WIP part... if I'm being completely honest last night i started a self-insert fanfic because of mu weishuang, a character from 花亦山心之月, a chinese otome game without translation. and um i wrote in english first but i kept hearing her voice in chinese and um well i tried rewriting the fic in my really mediocre chinese as well 😭 so my last 7 sentences are actually last 2 sentences of the wip and first 5 sentences of my attempt at chinese fic......

There is no third encounter. Mu Weishuang is in front of you, blocking the blow with her own sword, barely panting although she’d sprinted across the clearing to reach you.

「郡主小心！」

只為木微霜的警示語讓你能逃避刺客的劍。你狂亂地找你在身子的匕首，可找不及了——刺客的劍再下來，你也再將將閃。有事在風飄飄——是你披風斯了的綢，為刺客砍來的刃斯。

劍從不再次劃下來。木微霜到。