#demands trigger out fight/flight/freeze response

[imjust-toosoft-forall-ofit]

PDA is hilarious cause I’ll get up and start a pot of coffee, even refill the coffee jar rather than scoop right from the tub. And then I lay back down for “just 10 minutes” and end up locked in bed because the smell makes me actually Want it and now I’m having a minor panic spell and am desperately trying to tell my nervous system that making a cup of coffee won’t kill me.

[my-autism-adhd-blog]

Hi ! I am diagnosed as an autistic person and today, well yesterday I had an emotional crisis (I have trouble differentiating meltdowns, shutdowns and burnouts so that’s how I call it).

I am currently missing a day of high school (my class is horribly noisy) and I am trying to recover and I was wondering if foods and drinks were a good idea, like hot chocolate for example.

My mother is also going to buy headphones at least today or, if not possible, tomorrow plus adding a permission to my PAI (idk how to translate this but it’s an adaptation any student can have in France if they have a major issue or problem with something) so I can wear them in class or just leave the classroom if needed. Thank you in advance for answering, and have a good day or night !

Hi there,

I found an article talking about shutdowns and meltdowns and even how to avoid them. According to the article:

Meltdowns 

Meltdowns are often the result of situations which are highly stimulating or create high levels of anxiety which feel like they can't be escaped. When someone is in this situation their reaction is either flight, fight or freeze. If the person cannot escape that leaves two options: either fight or freeze. 

Meltdowns are similar to the fight response. 

When an autistic person is having a meltdown they often have increased levels of anxiety and distress which are often interpreted as frustration, a 'tantrum' or an aggressive panic attack. 

It's important to understand that meltdowns are not 'temper tantrums'. They are a reaction to a highly distressing situation or environment. 

While in a meltdown a person can be injurious to others or themselves because of the extreme state of anxiety their body is in. That's why it's really important to minimise the risk of this happening - both for the person and those around them. 

Meltdowns are very physically tiring and emotionally draining for the individual. This is because the person has been in a distressing situation and has had a highly adrenalised and emotionalised response. 

Shutdowns

If meltdowns are equivalent to the fight response, then shutdowns are similar to the freeze response.

They are often the result of situations with high demand in one or a few of the following areas:

social situations

situations that require a lot of thinking

lack of sleep

very emotional situations

situations that are very active or physical.

An analogy for a shutdown is like a computer trying to turn on but it can't because there isn't enough power to do so. In a shutdown an autistic person might not seem themselves because they're so overwhelmed that their focus has shifted to the basic functions. As they are at a reduced ability to process what is going on they may struggle to communicate as they normally do, which can mean they are mute or have a lot of difficult forming coherent sentences.

How to help prevent meltdowns and shutdowns

Preemptive planning can really help to mitigate against triggers that might lead to a meltdown. 

For example, you can reduce anxiety related to uncertainty about certain situations by providing information about what to expect in advance - such as a visual timetable or agenda.  

Another way to reduce the likelihood of a meltdown is to create environments that don't overwhelm the senses. For example, allowing children and young people to wear ear defenders in noisy rooms or dimming the lights to create a less harsh ambience. 

It can be very difficult and distressing to support someone during a meltdown, so knowing what to do in advance is key.

The best way to find out what causes someone to have a meltdown is to ask them or someone who knows them well.

The best remedy for a shutdown is giving the person the space to rest, recuperate and recover without placing additional demands on them. A shutdown can be like a reset for an autistic person.

The article will be below:

[hauntedselves]

The 4F’s: Fight, Flight, Freeze & Fawn

By Pete Walker

[Note: this post is very long!]

“This model elaborates four basic defensive structures that develop out of our instinctive Fight, Flight, Freeze and Fawn responses to severe abandonment and trauma (heretofore referred to as the 4Fs). Variances in the childhood abuse/neglect pattern, birth order, and genetic predispositions result in individuals "choosing" and specializing in narcissistic (fight), obsessive/compulsive (flight), dissociative (freeze) or codependent (fawn) defenses.”

“Individuals who experience "good enough parenting" in childhood arrive in adulthood with a healthy and flexible response repertoire to danger. In the face of real danger, they have appropriate access to all of their 4F choices. Easy access to the fight response insures good boundaries, healthy assertiveness and aggressive self-protectiveness if necessary. Untraumatized individuals also easily and appropriately access their flight instinct and disengage and retreat when confrontation would exacerbate their danger. They also freeze appropriately and give up and quit struggling when further activity or resistance is futile or counterproductive.  And finally they also fawn in a liquid, "play-space" manner and are able to listen, help, and compromise as readily as they assert and express themselves and their needs, rights and points of view.

Those who are repetitively traumatized in childhood however, often learn to survive by over-relying on the use of one or two of the 4F Reponses. Fixation in any one 4F response not only delimits the ability to access all the others, but also severely impairs the individual's ability to relax into an undefended state, circumscribing him in a very narrow, impoverished experience of life. Over time a habitual 4F defense also "serves" to distract the individual from the accumulating unbearable feelings of her current alienation and unresolved past trauma. 

Complex PTSD as an Attachment Disorder

Polarization to a fight, flight, freeze or fawn response is not only the developing child's unconscious attempt to obviate danger, but also a strategy to purchase some illusion or modicum of attachment.  All 4F types are commonly ambivalent about real intimacy because deep relating so easily triggers them into painful emotional flashbacks”.

“Emotional Flashbacks are instant and sometimes prolonged regressions into the intense, overwhelming feeling states of childhood abuse and neglect: fear, shame, alienation, rage, grief and/or depression. Habituated 4F defenses offer protection against further re-abandonment hurts by precluding the type of vulnerable relating that is prone to re-invoke childhood feelings of being attacked, unseen, and unappreciated.  Fight types avoid real intimacy by unconsciously alienating others with their angry and controlling demands for the unmet childhood need of unconditional love; flight types stay perpetually busy and industrious to avoid potentially triggering interactions; freeze types hide away in their rooms and reveries; and fawn types avoid emotional investment and potential disappointment by barely showing themselves - by hiding behind their helpful personas, over-listening, over-eliciting or overdoing for the other - by giving service but never risking real self-exposure and the possibility of deeper level rejection. Here then, are further descriptions of the 4F defenses with specific recommendations for treatment.”

The Fight Type and the Narcissistic Defense

“Fight types are unconsciously driven by the belief that power and control can create safety, assuage abandonment and secure love. Children who are spoiled and given insufficient limits (a uniquely painful type of abandonment) and children who are allowed to imitate the bullying of a narcissistic parent may develop a fixated fight response to being triggered. These types learn to respond to their feelings of abandonment with anger and subsequently use contempt, a toxic amalgam of narcissistic rage and disgust, to intimidate and shame others into mirroring them and into acting as extensions of themselves. The entitled fight type commonly uses others as an audience for his incessant monologizing, and may treat a "captured" freeze or fawn type as a slave or prisoner in a dominance-submission relationship. Especially devolved fight types may become sociopathic, ranging along a continuum that stretches between corrupt politician and vicious criminal.

Treatment: Treatable fight types benefit from being psychoeducated about the prodigious price they pay for controlling others with intimidation. Less injured types are able to see how potential intimates become so afraid and/or resentful of them that they cannot manifest the warmth or real liking the fight type so desperately desires. I have helped a number of fight types understand the following downward spiral of power and alienation: excessive use of power triggers a fearful emotional withdrawal in the other, which makes the fight type feel even more abandoned and, in turn, more outraged and contemptuous, which then further distances the "intimate", which in turn increases their rage and disgust, which creates increasing distance and withholding of warmth, ad infinitem. Fight types need to learn to notice and renounce their habit of instantly morphing abandonment feelings into rage and disgust. As they become more conscious of their abandonment feelings, they can focus on and feel their abandonment fear and shame without transmuting it into rage or disgust - and without letting grandiose overcompensations turn it into demandingness.

Unlike the other 4Fs, fight types assess themselves as perfect and project the inner critic's perfectionistic processes onto others, guaranteeing themselves an endless supply of justifications to rage. Fight types need to see how their condescending, moral-high-ground position alienates others and perpetuates their present time abandonment. Learning to take self-initiated timeouts at the first sign of triggering is an invaluable tool for them to acquire. Timeouts can be used to accurately redirect the lion's share of their hurt feelings into grieving and working through their original abandonment, rather than displacing it destructively onto current intimates. Furthermore, like all 4F fixations, fight types need to become more flexible and adaptable in using the other 4F responses to perceived danger, especially the polar opposite and complementary fawn response described below. They can learn the empathy response of the fawn position - imagining how it feels to be the other, and in the beginning "fake it until they make it." Without real consideration for the other, without reciprocity and dialogicality, the real intimacy they crave will remain unavailable to them. 

The Flight Type and the Obsessive-Compulsive Defense

Flight types appear as if their starter button is stuck in the "on" position. They are obsessively and compulsively driven by the unconscious belief that perfection will make them safe and loveable. As children, flight types respond to their family trauma somewhere along a hyperactive continuum that stretches between the extremes of the driven "A" student and the ADHD dropout running amok. They relentlessly flee the inner pain of their abandonment and lack of attachment with the symbolic flight of constant busyness.

When the obsessive/compulsive flight type is not doing, she is worrying and planning about doing. Flight types are prone to becoming addicted to their own adrenalization, and many recklessly and regularly pursue risky and dangerous activities to keep their adrenalin-high going. These types are also as susceptible to stimulating substance addictions, as they are to their favorite process addictions: workaholism and busyholism. Severely traumatized flight types may devolve into severe anxiety and panic disorders.

Treatment: Many flight types are so busy trying to stay one step ahead of their pain that introspecting out loud in the therapy hour is the only time they find to take themselves seriously. While psychoeducation is important and essential to all the types, flight types particularly benefit from it. Nowhere is this truer than in the work of learning to deconstruct their overidentification with the perfectionistic demands of their inner critic. Gently and repetitively confronting denial and minimization about the costs of perfectionism is essential, especially with workaholics who often admit their addiction to work but secretly hold onto it as a badge of pride and superiority.  Deeper work with flight types - as with all types -gradually opens them to grieving their original abandonment and all its concomitant losses. Egosyntonic crying is an unparalleled tool for shrinking the obsessive perseverations of the critic and for ameliorating the habit of compulsive rushing. As recovery progresses, flight types can acquire a "gearbox" that allows them to engage life at a variety of speeds, including neutral. Flight types also benefit from using mini-minute meditations to help them identify and deconstruct their habitual "running". I teach such clients to sit comfortably, systemically relax, breathe deeply and diaphragmatically, and ask themselves questions such as: "What is my most important priority right now?", or when more time is available: "What hurt am I running from right now? Can I open my heart to the idea and image of soothing myself in my pain?" Finally, there are numerous flight types who exhibit symptoms that may be misperceived as cyclothymic bipolar disorder”.

“The Freeze Type and the Dissociative Defense

Many freeze types unconsciously believe that people and danger are synonymous, and that safety lies in solitude. Outside of fantasy, many give up entirely on the possibility of love. The freeze response, also known as the camouflage response, often triggers the individual into hiding, isolating and eschewing human contact as much as possible. This type can be so frozen in retreat mode that it seems as if their starter button is stuck in the "off" position. It is usually the most profoundly abandoned child - "the lost child" - who is forced to "choose" and habituate to the freeze response (the most primitive of the 4Fs). Unable to successfully employ fight, flight or fawn responses, the freeze type's defenses develop around classical dissociation, which allows him to disconnect from experiencing his abandonment pain, and protects him from risky social interactions - any of which might trigger feelings of being reabandoned. Freeze types often present as ADD; they seek refuge and comfort in prolonged bouts of sleep, daydreaming, wishing and right brain-dominant activities like TV, computer and video games. They master the art of changing the internal channel whenever inner experience becomes uncomfortable. When they are especially traumatized or triggered, they may exhibit a schizoid-like detachment from ordinary reality.

Treatment: There are at least three reasons why freeze types are the most difficult 4F defense to treat. First, their positive relational experiences are few if any, and they are therefore extremely reluctant to enter the relationship of therapy; moreover, those who manage to overcome this reluctance often spook easily and quickly terminate. Second, they are harder to psychoeducate about the trauma basis of their complaints because, like many fight types, they are unconscious of their fear and their torturous inner critic. Also, like the fight type, the freeze type tends to project the perfectionistic demands of the critic onto others rather than the self, and uses the imperfections of others as justification for isolation. The critic's processes of perfectionism and endangerment, extremely unconscious in freeze types, must be made conscious and deconstructed as described in detail in my aforementioned article on shrinking the inner critic. Third, even more than workaholic flight types, freeze types are in denial about the life narrowing consequences of their singular adaptation. Because the freeze response is on a continuum that ends with the collapse response (the extreme abandonment of consciousness seen in prey animals about to be killed), many appear to be able to self-medicate by releasing the internal opioids that the animal brain is programmed to release when danger is so great that death seems immanent. The opioid production of the collapse or extreme freeze response can only take the individual so far however, and these types are therefore prone to sedating substance addictions. Many self-medicating types are often drawn to marijuana and narcotics, while others may gravitate toward ever escalating regimes of anti-depressants and anxiolytics. Moreover, when they are especially unremediated and unattached, they can devolve into increasing depression”.

“The Fawn Type and the Codependent Defense

Fawn types seek safety by merging with the wishes, needs and demands of others. They act as if they unconsciously believe that the price of admission to any relationship is the forfeiture of all their needs, rights, preferences and boundaries. They often begin life like the precocious children described in Alice Miler's The Drama Of The Gifted Child, who learn that a modicum of safety and attachment can be gained by becoming the helpful and compliant servants of their parents. They are usually the children of at least one narcissistic parent who uses contempt to press them into service, scaring and shaming them out of developing a healthy sense of self: an egoic locus of self-protection, self-care and self-compassion.”

Treatment: “Fawn types typically respond well to being psychoeducated in this model. This is especially true when the therapist persists in helping them recognize and renounce the repetition compulsion that draws them to narcissistic types who exploit them. Therapy also naturally helps them to shrink their characteristic listening defense as they are guided to widen and deepen their self-expression. I have seen numerous inveterate codependents finally progress in their assertiveness and boundary-making work, when they finally got that even the thought of expressing a preference or need triggers an emotional flashback of such intensity that they completely dissociate from their knowledge of and ability to express what they want.  Role-playing assertiveness in session and attending to the stultifying inner critic processes it triggers helps the codependent build a healthy ego. This is especially true when the therapist interprets, witnesses and validates how the individual as a child was forced to put to death so much of her individual self. Grieving these losses further potentiates the developing ego.”

“Trauma Hybrids

There are, of course, few pure types. Most trauma survivors are hybrids of the 4F's. There are for instance, three subsets of the fawn type: the fawn-fight (the smothering-mother type) who coercively or manipulatively takes care of others, who smother loves  them into conforming with her view of who they should be; the fawn-flight type who workaholically makes herself useful to others (the "model" secretary) in the vein of her favorite role model Mother Theresa; and the fawn-freeze type who numbingly surrenders herself  to scapegoating or to a narcissist's need to have a target for his rageaholic releases (the "classic" domestic violence victim). Space in this article only allows for the description of two other common hybrids: the Fight/Fawn and the Flight/Freeze.

The Fight/Fawn, perhaps the most relational hybrid and most susceptible to love addiction, combines two opposite but magnetically attracting polarities of relational style - narcissism and codependence. This defense is sometimes misdiagnosed as borderline because the individual's flashbacks trigger a panicky sense of abandonment and a desperation for love that causes her to dramatically split back and forth between fighting and clawing for love and cunningly or flatteringly groveling for it. This type is different than the fawn/fight in that the narcissistic defense is typically more in ascendancy. The fight/fawn hybrid is also distinct from a more common condition where an individual acts like a fight type in one relationship while fawning in another (the archetypal henpecked husband who is a tyrant at work), and from the many "nice" mildly codependent people who have critical masses where they will eventually get fed up and blow up about injustice and exploitation. The borderline-like fight/fawn type however may dramatically vacillate back and forth between these two styles many times in a single interaction.

The Flight/Freeze type is the least relational and most schizoid hybrid. This type avoids his feelings and potential relationship retraumatization with an obsessive-compulsive/ dissociative "two-step" that severely narrows his existence. The flight/freeze cul-de-sac is more common among men, especially those traumatized for being vulnerable in childhood, and those who subsequently learned to seek safety in isolation or "intimacy-lite" relationships. Many non-alpha type males gravitate to the combination of flight and freeze defensiveness stereotypical of the information technology nerd - the computer addict who workaholically focuses for long periods of time and then drifts off dissociatively into computer games. Many sex addicts also combine flight and freeze in a compulsive pursuit of a sexual pseudo-intimacy. When in flight mode, they obsessively scheme to "get" sex and/or compulsively pursue and/or engage in it; when in freeze mode, they drift off into a right brain sexual fantasy world that is often fueled by an addictive use of pornography; and even during real time sexual interaction, they often engage more with their idealized fantasy partners than with their actual partner.

Self-Assessment

Readers may find it informative to self-assess their own hierarchical use of the 4F responses. They can try to determine their dominant type and hybrid, and think about what percentage of their time is spent in each type of 4F activity. Finally, all 4Fs progressively recover from the multidimensional wounding of complex ptsd as mindfulness of learned trauma dynamics increases, as the critic shrinks, as dissociation decreases, as childhood losses are effectively grieved, as the healthy ego matures into a user-friendly manager of the psyche, as the life narrative becomes more egosyntonic, as emotional vulnerability creates authentic experiences of intimacy, and as "good enough" safe attachments are attained. Furthermore, it is also important to emphasize that recovery is not an all-or-none phenomenon, but rather a gradual one marked by decreasing frequency, intensity and duration of flashbacks.”

[icallhimjoey]

SPOILER ALERT!

First we gotta talk about how relatable that interaction with the self-checkout bitch is. Literally this happens to me every single time, ughh. Also, I was out of town when this part dropped and I had to wait until today to read/respond (so sorry!)

ANYWAY, let’s get right into it:

Joe being all cute with his fresh produce and shit, us linking arms with him (even if only briefly), the way he tried to sneak in a little romantic dinner at home situation, the way he so easily gave in when we were HUNGRY, how we immediately assumed the go-to position of every avoidant girlie, the way his hands roamed and stroked and caressed over our back and shoulder blades, then squeezed and massaged at our neck and scalp (!!!), when he intertwined our fingers over our hips and wouldn’t let go…

You got pushed forward slightly as Joe sat up. Got his arms around your waist, pulled you close against his chest and started mouthing at your back which turned into kisses when you slowed down into a grind.

“Hey,” Joe whispered, chin hooking over the outer edge of your shoulder.

This motherfucker was trying for eye-contact.

So Joe’s grip on your waist suddenly became a trap as he pulled you down and stilled you in his lap where he held you in place. He had his hand on your chin still, and tugged at it again. Joe said, “Hey,” once more, but this time in his speaking voice, all assertive and demanding.

THEN the push and pull between us and how he kept pulling back making us feel all vulnerable (how dare he), but then he gave us what we wanted, just really gave it to us GOOD.

Joe made you come on his lap, his hand working on pressure from the outside as the underside of his tip hit you just right on the inside.

You barely got a second to yourself, because as soon as Joe felt your twitching and squeezing slow down, his hands guided you off of him and turned you around to face him. Taking one look at you, the glassy eyes, the shiny skin, the kiss bitten lips– yea, he needed to be on top of you right that fucking second.

Joe expertly flipped you onto your back, rolled on top of you immediately and did what he loved doing most.

Forehead fucking.

Joe’s need for connection through eye-contact and forehead fucking and cuddling definitely triggering our fight, flight, or freeze stress response, and then Joe finally fighting back!

“I’ve got actual feelings. I’m a person.”

In the broad sense. Joe meant feelings in the broad sense. Not feelings for you. Obviously not.

Sure, Jan.

MY GOD, how he spooned us for HOURS that night we passed out in his bed (screaming), and then Joe trying to smooth things over by caaaaaasuually inviting us to an art exhibition, wearing his heart on his sleeve (and face) when we rejected his offer 🥺 AND THEN WHEN HE ADMITTED HE LIKES US, and his objection to our challenge to him, then the whole t-shirt thing (the insistence that we wear it… I just. I can’t).

If Joe wanted more, he kind of deserved more. You just weren’t the person made for more. Didn’t know how to do more. Weren’t good at feelings, so you made sure there never really were any.

Not me over here getting misty eyed, wanting to scream at us to just let go and let him love us because we deserve love too goddammit! Gaaaaahhhh this version of us is so relatable (apparently only to a few of us but I really appreciate it) and I just want all the avoidant girlies to know that we are worthy of love and care and respect and I hope that Joe is able to break down the walls this version of us keeps building up to keep him out 😭

WELL he's gonna try... dont know if he'll succeed or not! WE'LL HAVE TO SEE!

[hanna-symphony]

Today I want to talk with you all about a part of my identity that affects every aspect of my life and work and relationships.

I am a PDA-er.

“Pathological Demand Avoidance” is a medical descriptor for a specific type of autistic profile. (It may also be an ADHD and C-PTSD profile, as this neurotype is under-researched.)

In the neurodiversity paradigm, we prefer these words for the acronym -

Pervasive Drive for Autonomy

Prime Directive: Autonomy

This identity term describes a phenomena where any stimulus perceived as a demand signals danger to the unconscious mind, triggering a stress response.

Commands and imperatives are the most obvious sorts of demands. No one likes being told what to do, but this goes far beyond that.

🧡 For a PDA-er the statement “no one likes being told what to do” can feel dismissive of our disabling struggles. This is not about “not liking” something.

The demands I struggle with the most are things which my conscious mind actually wants and desires but some part of my brain still perceives as demands.

🧐 All of the following can be perceived by the unconscious as demands: direct instructions, schedules, school assignments, to do lists, constructive criticism, personal goals, aspirations, mantras, ambitions, deep desires, the “proper” way to do things, social hangouts, dates, getting to work on time, making and eating food, needing to go to the toilet, needing to go to sleep for the night, and the list could go on and on.

For PDAers, the moment that our unconscious perceives our conscious will as an imperative or a “should,” the fight/flight/freeze response activates.

Almost anything can be perceived by the unconscious as a demand. Whatever we PDA-ers perceive as a demand will unavoidably trigger our fight/flight/freeze stress response. This can manifest as aggression, mania, literally running away, depression, brain fog, nausea, pain, or executive dysfunction.

If you don’t struggle with this or other disabilities, you may find it hard to imagine living with a body that seems to rebel against your conscious will at every turn.

If I say “I need to eat now,” my body says No.

If I say “It’s time to take my medicine,” my body says No.

If I say “I really want to meet my friend for coffee,” my body says No.

If I say, “Yes I will do as you have asked,” my body says No.

If I say, “I should really drink more water,” my body says No.

This operating system requires me to approach the world in a different way to most people. My work and self-care and relationships have greatly suffered from lack of understanding of how my body system operates.

Learning about PDA helped me stop judging and shaming myself.

(Here are my top two favorite articles about PDA if you want to learn more!

Highly Sensitive Neuroception May Be At The Heart of PDA *The original link for this website no longer exists* A documented copy of the article is here - http://www.buildsomethingpositive.com/wenn/PDA%20Neuroception.docx [❌ original link - https://pathologicaldemandavoidanceaprofileofautism.com/2019/06/25/pda-neuroception-the-five-fs/]

Pathological Demand Avoidance or Needing to Be Free http://www.sallycatpda.co.uk/2019/12/pathological-demand-avoidance-or.html)

Now that I understand why I am so frequently triggered by even my own mind,

I am working on shifting my internal dialogue to respect the unconscious process of my bodymind. The more I shift my language, the more I feel able to navigate the world without being triggered by the demands of my own making.

This shift requires a creative use of language to avoid making demands on myself. This is extra difficult as autistic person who relies on learned scripts for many processes. The scripts my parents and teachers and culture taught me are full of demands. The idea is to reframe everything as an option instead of an imperative so that my body doesn’t freak out and say No.

🎈Here’s what is working for me currently...

Menus instead of to-do lists

- I write down all the things I might want to or need to do. They are optional. I do not shame myself for not doing things that are written. I celebrate the things I do accomplish. If I finish a task that wasn’t on the menu, I often add it to the menu with a big check mark ✅ so I can see what I’ve accomplished.

Encouraging open ended self-talk instead of positive commands

- “I have to” or “I need to” is immediately a demand. I’ve been having success with phrasing things as “I will ____” or “How can I ____?”

Self-EMDR to shift how I perceive alarms and scheduled meetings

- Things that were once demands may not always be perceived as demands. There was a time I could not use any alarm. I can now use musical alarms because I did a self-EMDR process around my fear response to auditory alarms. Meetings are still hit or miss for me. Some days my body says No to my schedule, other days my schedule feels comforting, and I’m still working on figuring out the difference.

Heaps of understanding and kindness and gentleness for myself.

- It can be so easy to fall into shame spirals because of PDA. The self-talk of “why can’t I just do the thing, I’m such a failure” is a very old record that my mind likes to play over and over again for old times sake. Learning how to escape those spirals and be gentler with myself is an evolving process.

🤷🏻‍♀️ Somehow I’ve managed to create these infographics for you all: linktr.ee/TraumaGeek

🙈 Talking with people about trauma, polyvagal theory, and/or neurodiversity gives me a “special interest overrride” where my excitement about the topic somehow prevents a stress response for a thing that would usually be perceived as a demand, so if you want to schedule with me, you can click here: www.calendly.com/TraumaGeek

🙏🏻🥰❤️ I am eternally grateful to the patron supporters who helped me believe I could build my own vocation and avoid the disabling demands of traditional employment. www.patreon.com/TraumaGeek

#actuallyautistic #neurodivergent #PDA

[free--therapy]

The 4 Main Trauma Responses & How to Recognize Your Dominant One + How to Use Self-Regulation & A Neurocycle to Heal Trauma

By Dr. Caroline Leaf on July 25, 2021

When we experience any kind of trauma, we can respond to the threat in various ways to cope. We are all familiar with the fight or flight response, but there are actually four main trauma responses, which are categorized as “the four F’s of trauma”: fight, flight, freeze and fawn. In this podcast (episode #302) and blog, I will talk about these different trauma responses, and how to manage them in the moment using self-regulation and mind-management techniques. Although recent research indicates there may be two more trauma responses common to human beings, I am just going to concentrate on the main four for this podcast.

These main trauma responses are actual neural structures that get built into our brain as “thought trees.” The experience triggers the response with all its memories, including the knowledge, data and emotions that are attached to the memories like branches and leaves on a tree. The more intense the experience, the more energy and strength the thought tree has.

When this happens, the brain sends a message to all the cells of the body about this thought tree, so the memory is stored in the body as well. The more this trauma pattern is activated/triggered, the stronger it gets. This means that when anything similar happens to us, the predictive pattern will “switch on” in our mind, brain and body, and we can automatically revert to it, which strengthens it further.

Knowing about these trauma responses can help you see how you are responding to trauma triggers, which will, in turn, help you recognize the warning signals of how they are showing up in your life and what they mean for you. This will enable you to reconceptualize (reimagine/rewire) them into a pattern that works for you and not against you. Over time, you can work on healing your trauma; you do not have to let it take up any more room in your life. You do not have to default to unhealthy trauma responses that keep you stuck.

As mentioned above, the four types of trauma responses are: fight, flight, freeze or fawn. You may have one or more of them at different times and under different circumstances:

The flight response can be defined as getting away from the situation as quickly as possible.

The fight response can be defined as pure self-preservation.

The freeze response can be defined as pausing instead of running.

The fawn response can be defined as keeping someone happy to neutralize the threat.

These trauma responses can show up in either a healthy or unhealthy way. For instance, an unhealthy fight response may result in increased aggressive behavior, while a healthy fight response may be the desire to set and maintain healthy relationship boundaries. An unhealthy flight response, on the other hand, may be to become a workaholic to avoid confrontation, while a healthy flight response may be to exit an unhealthy relationship.

Unhealthy flight responses can include obsessive or compulsive tendencies, needing to stay busy all the time, panic, constant feelings of fear, perfectionism, workaholic tendencies, and the inability to sit still. Healthy flight responses can include being able to disengage from harmful conversations, leave unhealthy relationships, remove yourself from physical danger, and properly assess danger.

Unhealthy fight responses can include controlling behaviors, narcissistic tendencies, bullying, conduct disorder, demanding perfection from others, and feelings of entitlement. Healthy fight responses can include establishing firm boundaries, being assertive, finding courage, becoming a strong leader, and protecting yourself and loved ones.

Unhealthy freeze responses can include dissociation, isolation, frequent zoning out, brain fog, difficulty making decisions, difficulty taking actions or getting things done, fear of achieving, or fear of trying new things. Healthy freeze responses can include mindfulness, awareness, and full presence in the moment.

Unhealthy fawn responses can include codependent relationships, staying in violent relationships, loss of self, destructive people-pleasing, or few or no boundaries. Healthy fawn responses can include compassion for others, compromise, active listening, and a sense of fairness.

The first step in managing any response awareness—we must feel to heal. Often, these four types of trauma responses, if they manifest as unhealthy responses, can keep us stuck. But, by becoming aware of them, we can understand them and learn how to make them work for us and not against us. We can start doing this by switching them from unhealthy to healthy trauma responses through the process called reconceptualization, which I describe in detail below.

When you learn how to mind-manage a trauma response when triggered, you can choose what will work best for you to help you get through the situation. This will give you a sense of agency and control, which will further empower you to take control of your life. To this end, I recommend doing a Neurocycle, which is the 5-step mind-management system I have developed over the past 38 years, and is based on my research and practice. The 5 steps are:

1. Gather awareness of your trauma response.

What are your emotional warning signals?

What are your physical warning signals?

What are your behavioral warning signals?

Which of the four f’s of trauma, or what combination, are you in?

2. Reflect

What is the pattern you have developed to cope with your trauma? What are you doing and how are you responding specifically?

Does your response serve you well in your relationships?

Do you need to change it?

Where is the trauma that this response is coming from? (It’s ok if you can’t answer that now, it’s good enough to know it’s a response to an underlying cause. You can work on this separately over 63 day cycles to find the roots of the trauma and embrace, process and reconceptualize them).

3. Write

Write what you have gathered and reflected on to help organize your thinking.

4. Recheck

Look at what you have written, and see if you can reconceptualize the trauma response, - that is, shift it to a healthy response - by finding what I call the “antidote”. For example, you can say something like “This place still makes me sad, but it doesn’t hurt anymore; I don’t see myself as the one who is always being left; rather, I am the one who was willing to stay.”

5. Active reach

What is an anchoring action or statement you can quickly do and say to yourself when a trauma response is triggered? For example, you can say something like “I am going to put on my imaginary suit of armor, practice deep breathing to control my panic, and then I am going to stop pacing, sit down and assess the situation to see what has made me panic. I will ask someone I trust to help me, like a therapist or counselor.”

[chaoticpoetic]

Have just crashed, emotionally.  Went from feeling relieved that I’d found out about pathological demand avoidance, and feeling hopeful that I can find new parenting methods to help my son, to the realisation that instructions can - and do - literally trigger an anxiety based response, and now working out how many instructions I give in a day and feeling horrendous.  SEN departments need to do better. Child psychiatrists need to do better. We need more knowledge of PDA out there, so parents aren’t literally putting their children in an anxious state, because they don’t know how else to manage what looks like disobedience to them, but is actually their child entering fight, flight or freeze mode because they’ve been given instructions or expectations.   How the hell do I work on undoing that? 

[one-abuse-survivor]

my dad ruined christmas. He started off with constantly antagonising my sister, arguing with my mum and shouting at her, and then, later when i was attempting to get a screwdriver to release my new toy car from its case (it was a mini delorean from back to the future haha so awesome!) he corners me and starts going back on a rant of how dumb i am and how im such a bad child for him. I understand i was in the wrong for repeating ‘excuse me please, excuse me’ the entire time, but i was trying to drown out his voice but also try hoping politeness will help move it along and i can be free quicker. I tried shouting to my mum saying, ‘mum, help me please come on, hes trapped me again, hellooo mum help me’ but she literally couldnt care less, even waving a hand in dismissal towards me, then he told me he was gonna hit me if i didnt start behaving, and he wuestioned what he’d done that was so horrible, that made me not speak to him anymore and act like he wasnt even living here, but i ignored him. I just had to get to my room, and i did. He did back me up further, to which i told him to f off (ik bad on my part, i wish i hadnt said it) but it ahocked him so horribly that he went to go tell my mum, and i made my immaculate escape lol. But as this hasnt happened to me since before quarentine in 2020 (when he would do this for hours at a time, for almost 2 years at that point) ive just been in a huge mental fog and obsessing over the new year and what new challenges i ‘have to overcome’ and stuff and im so scared, honestly. All this year was me pulling myself up from depression and wanting to be unalive and now im acc wanting to live and be happy, i dont know how lol. I mean, what if i screw it up and suddenly it all comes back and i give in this time? What if i dont be my best self next year and finally, finally get away from my parents? My birthdah is next week and im almost sure hes gonna ruin it, like he has the past 3. I have hope he wont, and that this years gonna be great, but i have so much dread and fear, and idk how to make those go away fully tbh

Nonnie, I'm so sorry he did this. I hope you know what your dad did to you on Christmas day and all those times before quarantine is really abusive, and your mum not caring is also abusive and neglectful. You did not deserve his insults or his threats. I don't think you were in the wrong for doing or saying any of the things you did and said in that situation—I think you did your best to de-escalate it and get yourself to safety.

When it comes to abuse, in my personal opinion, there's no wrong way to react—nothing you can do or say that means you actually caused or deserved the abuse. More often than not, we act on instinct in these situations—and not rationally—because our fight/flight/freeze/fawn response has been triggered. So please, don't be hard on yourself for the way you handled the situation. You should never have been put in that position in the first place, and it's him you should be mad at for cornering and abusing you, and not yourself for the way you reacted. All you wanted was to keep yourself safe.

I also want you to know that demanding to know what he did to make you not speak to him was really abusive of him. My mother did this too, and I just want you to know you're not alone .

I'm sorry 2021 was such a bad year, and I really hope you're proud of yourself for everything you accomplished regarding your depression, because that's huge! I also hope your birthday went well after all ❤️

Regarding dread about 2022 not being good/not being the year you finally leave, try to focus on the things you can control, nonnie. Some days, "what you can control" can look like gathering all your important documents and giving your friends your belongings (like books, toys...) little by little so you don't have to take everything with you in one go later on. Other days, it can look like getting through the day or even through the next few minutes. That's okay. It's okay if "doing your best" some days looks like surviving the day. You're still working towards getting out of there by surviving, I really hope you know that.

Sending all my support your way. You know I'm here if you need to reach out again ❤️

[fuckyeahasexual]

What counts as a trigger? I was in a toxic friendship with a narcissist for a year, and now whenever anyone comes up behind me and taps me on the shoulder it completely stuns me, like for a second I can't breathe or think or move. Whenever I see someone with a certain haircut and hair colour I irrationally hate them and get sporadic jolts of panic if I have to look at them for too long. I'll see a familiar bike, or get a call from an unknown number and I'll freeze. 1/2

Are these triggers? They really stress me out and I have to go to school tomorrow, and that person will be there. I don't want to label them as triggers if they aren't, I just want to know what the hell is wrong with me and why the mere sight of a similar hairstyle of all things sets me off. Any advice would be much appreciated, I don't know who to talk to and I'm really, really scared. 2/2

I personally count these are triggers. I don’t think policing of what counts as a trigger is helpful to anyone’s healing. I also think it’s really helpful to think of your brain as a pattern detector. So if you were in a situation that caused harm, emotional or physical, your brain in a way saves a copy of all the details it can. Even the objectively unimportant ones, but because your brain is a pattern detector it doesn’t know which are objectively useful. There’s no way for you to review details and say “This is danger” and “This isn’t danger.” So when someone does the same behaviors even common behaviors like tapping you on the shoulder or having the same haircut or color your brain can easily go “Red means danger. New person has red so new person is danger too.” But because you are more than just your brains pattern detector it’s important for you to know these triggers for a number of reasons (and loops back into why I don’t think triggers should be policed.) Because once you know the triggers, you can over time reteach your brain that haircuts are not dangerous, and better spot the patterns that actually are dangerous to you. Even if they make nervous you can remind yourself that x detail was not a factor and push past it if your boss/teacher ends up getting the same hair cut. It’s also important to know what they are when it comes to people physically interacting with you. Sometimes you can share a trigger with a friend, and say ‘hey, you are a big shoulder tapper. Could you not with me?” The purpose of a trigger is to keep you safe. Now because we can only control our own behavior knowing them big or small can help us safely move in society even if it means triggers get tripped. An example I was taught when doing suicide hotline training was there one person would always call when it got windy. Not even because she was actively suicidal but because the wind made a sound that was triggering and she knew the wind wasn’t literally a danger to her so if she reached out for help she knew could manage being triggered without it becoming bigger risk to her mental health. I think the triggers gets mocked because people take it personally. They shouldn’t. The wind for example is great, because no one assumes she thinks demands the wind stop. But for most things people do take it personally. Another common trigger I’ve seen is the smell of coffee. Now there’s whole social club’s and industries built around coffee. A trigger is not a judgment. A trigger isn’t inherently a request either. It means [X] is linked to my brain as [Y]. Now I do want to take a second to mention triggers I think do hold some judgement and the best way to do this, if you can personally handle this is the 2014 Brave New Voices (Finals) entry of "Rape Joke" by Los Angeles Team Get Lit slam poem. I think everyone can agree a rape joke is collectively more triggering than a hair cut and should interpersonally be treated differently. For example: ‘No rape jokes in class’ is a boundary that can be safely set for a group. But ‘no dyed hair’ is a different burden to apply to a group. That doesn’t make it less valid. It just implies there’s no cultural oppression linked to dyed hair. But personally, and biologically, including those who has faced sexual abuse may have triggers that aren’t culturally understood or as respected, that can seem like “little unimportant things” but they may still cause fight/flight responses or panic attacks. And personally belittling what is a “valid” trigger does not help you heal from whatever put the trigger there in the first place. That fact also does not take away from the fact that some triggers won’t keep you safe either. Both of those facts needs to be accepted within yourself. If I’m not wrong about the timing of this post, your scary event was today. And whatever happened, it’s understandable to be nervous having having a bad experience I wish you all the healing in it world, by acknowledging pain it is easier to start healing. 

[miss-tc-nova]

No Right - Xehanort x Eraqus

I’m still kind of testing out this writing style if you haven’t noticed. I think I’m gonna stick to 1st POV for self-inserts and do this 3rd POV for canon characters. It’s been testing my skills so far but I kinda like it. 

TRIGGER WARNING: for suicide attempt

~~~~~

                “See you soon buddy. We’ll all be waiting for you.”

                The curious words replay in Xehanort’s head as he takes the first steps of his new journey. Surely Eraqus doesn’t know what awaits the seeker in the future—he can’t know the path that’s been laid before his friend. Yet his final goodbye holds an ominous knowing that Xehanort can’t seem to shake.

                It’s been a while since their friends met such terrible fates and were taken away. Despite Eraqus’s insistence, Xehanort harbors feelings of responsibility for what happened. They’ve hardly spent a moment apart after that as a result, having only each other to rely on. There’s no doubt that the two are close—sometimes, it’s unclear how close. There’s no denying the airy feeling Xehanort feels seeing Fleetfoot smile, even while napping. Just being in close proximity gives the silver-haired boy a sense of peace he can’t recreate alone. Simply put, everything is better with Eraqus around. That makes reminding himself that their paths will soon lead in very different directions a bitter notion.

                Ever since Xehanort announced his journey before the Mark of Mastery, Eraqus hasn’t quite been his sunshine self. He’s still trying be who he was, but the gloom can be felt seeping off him when he thinks his classmate isn’t looking. He’s probably just worried about his friend, but there’s so much he doesn’t know—this is something Xehanort has to do.

                Nevertheless, attempts were made to poke holes in Xehanort’s plans.

                “You don’t have to leave.”

                “You’ve already seen what’s out there.”

                “What are you looking for?”

                False answers were given to Eraqus while the boy kept the real answers for himself. Still, the way his classmate spoke and his final warning continue nagging at the back of his mind.  

                You’ll be waiting for me? With who? Master Odin? No…

                The scene plays again. They stand before the graves of their friends. Eraqus shows no sign of his bright self, no light in his eyes, and the smile on his lips is dead. It’s a dreary thing—parting with friends.

                “See you soon buddy. We’ll all be waiting for you.” There it is: at that moment, Eraqus had turned his gaze on the tombstones.

                Understanding shakes his core. Not another thought is wasted before Xehanort’s feet rush him back towards the cemetery. Droplets impede his vision but do nothing to persuade him to slow down; there can be no hesitation—not for a single second.

                No no no! Don’t be that kind of fool!

                The freezing air fueling his flight stings at his lungs. Panic tightens its grip in his throat, threatening to close off his airways. If Eraqus is gone, well, Xehanort doesn’t want to think what kind of person he’ll turn into.

                In a blinding flash, lightning strikes a lamppost barely meters ahead, halting the mad dash. Not wanting to waste time, Xehanort ignores the freak incident and prepares to bolt again. Then something catches his eye. There’s no saying for sure, but the rain falls so perfectly it looks like a group of people standing before him—some very familiar people.

                Why are you in the way?!

                Movement off to the side earns a quick glance and then a double-take. Ambling along the road to the docks is Eraqus, and the large stone in his arms does not bode well. A concoction of hope and terror spur Xehanort off his original path.

                The gap between them is closing but the boy with black hair gets ever close to the edge. Xehanort’s lungs are screaming to stop but Eraqus is just one step away from the water—there’s still too much space between them.

                “ERAQUS!” The anchor hits the water at the same time the name rings out. Granite eyes flash to Xehanort filled with horror. Fingers snag the hem of Eraqus’s sleeve but the boy in black isn’t prepared for the weight of the rock at all. A face full of icy water takes him by surprise, nearly causing his grip to falter; only sheer refusal lets him hang on.

                The pair falls through the sea like the sky—the waters of Scala are deeper than anyone imagined. It’s a fathomless depth; they could be sinking for eternity. An entire world’s weight presses on Xehanort’s chest, coaxing his lungs to spasm. Common sense fights the urge while the boy in white watches with pleading terror.

                Natural instincts gets the better of Xehanort and the ocean invades his body—ending the struggle to save the person most important to him. White fabric slips from his hand and he can only watch Eraqus slip farther away while his body writhes for air. Dark water grows darker, thrashing becomes too much effort, and Xehanort slips away in regret.

~~~~~

                It’s bad enough that Eraqus had been found out, but when he ends up dragging Xehanort into the water with him, he’s mortified. With all his heart, he prays for his friend to let go but, with a look of absolute determination, Xehanort holds on.

                There is no relief when Xehanort finally does lose his grip: he’s clearly drowning. Getting to the surface on his own will be impossible—he’s going to die and it’s Eraqus’s fault. Those are unbearable final thoughts.

                One swipe of the keyblade severs the rope pulling Eraqus down and an aero spell propels him higher towards the motionless body. His own lungs are crying out for air but he’ll be useless if he blacks out now. Clinging tightly to the boy, Eraqus uses every ounce of energy he has to fight for the surface.

                Air fills his lungs, signaling the half-won battle. He struggles not to panic while dragging both himself and the unresponsive Xehanort from the water.

                “Xehanort! Hey, say something!” he demands, shaking the victim. “Wake up! WAKE UP!”

                Nothing. Ignoring the fear that will only get in the way, Eraqus presses down on his chest. His own breath comes in drags, but for Xehanort, he ensures his chest rises.

                No! Not you too! We lost everyone else! Please not you too!

                Pretty soon, Eraqus has to rely on touch alone to continue, blinded by his tears.

~~~~~

                Against his will, his body convulses. Water forces its way up, spilling across the ground and leaving Xehanort hacking through the pain.

                “Oh my gods! You’re okay!” The gray sky above greets him just beyond Eraqus’s shoulder—they’re still here. There’s really no chance to process the fact though before the rescuer pulls away, glaring. “What the hell were you thinking?! You could’ve died!” The anger doesn’t faze Xehanort, only reaffirms the things he’d been trying to put aside for so-called destiny. “You were this close to-”

                “I love you.”

                Those three words wipe the frustration clean. “What?”

                Pushing off the ground, Xehanort sits up, his tears warmer than the rain. “I love you, you clown.” A fist wipes at his tears in an attempt keep together. “And you were just gonna disappear while I was gone? I was supposed to come back and find out you drowned yourself right after I left?” Behind his drenched hair, the guilty hides. “So instead of asking what the hell I was thinking, how about you ask yourself that?”

                The response is pitiful stuttering. “I-I-”

                “You what?” Xehanort knows what. “Think you’re not worth it? Think that nobody will miss you? What gives you the right to decide that for someone else?” The seeker reaches out, using a firm grip to force Eraqus to meet his gaze. There’s hardly a thing he wouldn’t give to wipe the grief and regret from those gray eyes, but for now, Xehanort means to get his point across. “You don’t get to decide what you mean to me.”

                The cold, the rain, the uncomfortable feeling of being soaked, none of it matters the moment Xehanort drops his mouth onto Eraqus’s. Sure, he’s always been eloquent in his words, but in this moment, nothing he could say could better express the things he wanted Eraqus to know. Everything is poured into this connection, from his love to the fear he’d just experienced—all of it needs to show.

                While drowning in affection is certainly better than drowning in water, Xehanort breaks the kiss. Puffs of hot air float away while they attempt to recover. The boy in black is first, leaning back and shoving the hair from the face of his beloved. His adrenaline is gone, now replaced with the relief of various things. Wearily, he smiles at the somber boy. “How dare you try to take that away from me.”

                Eraqus’s lips twist and tears well in his eyes—that’s all the apology Xehanort needs. Prepared to wait out the sobbing, he pulls his mess of a loved one in and holds him tightly.

                In the white noise of the rain, with intermittent sniffles from the boy in his arms, Xehanort re-evaluates all his choices. Maybe the worlds need him to leave—to summon Kingdom Hearts and break everything down to nothing—but Eraqus needs him here. He could logic with himself all day that destiny and the fate of all the worlds meant more than the relationship of two teenage boys, but it’ll be a long time before Xehanort forgets the sight of Eraqus sinking into the watery darkness. Just thinking about it makes it all so very clear: Xehanort would forsake everything if it meant he got to keep Eraqus in his life.

                The man in the black coat can find another scapegoat. 

[animeman08]

Iron Man

Iron Man is a fictional superhero appearing in American comic books published by Marvel Comics. The character was co-created by writer and editor Stan Lee, developed by scripter Larry Lieber, and designed by artists Don Heck and Jack Kirby. The character made his first appearance in Tales of Suspense #39 (cover dated March 1963), and received his own title in Iron Man #1 (May 1968). Also in 1963, the character founded the Avengers alongside Thor, Ant-Man, Wasp and the Hulk.

A wealthy American business magnate, playboy, philanthropist, inventor and ingenious scientist, Anthony Edward "Tony" Stark suffers a severe chest injury during a kidnapping. When his captors attempt to force him to build a weapon of mass destruction, he instead creates a mechanized suit of armor to save his life and escape captivity. Later, Stark develops his suit, adding weapons and other technological devices he designed through his company, Stark Industries. He uses the suit and successive versions to protect the world as Iron Man. Although at first concealing his true identity, Stark eventually publicly reveals himself to be Iron Man.

Initially, Iron Man was a vehicle for Stan Lee to explore Cold War themes, particularly the role of American technology and industry in the fight against communism. Subsequent re-imaginings of Iron Man have transitioned from Cold War motifs to contemporary matters of the time.

Throughout most of the character's publication history, Iron Man has been a founding member of the superhero team the Avengers and has been featured in several incarnations of his own various comic book series. Iron Man has been adapted for several animated TV shows and films. In the Marvel Cinematic Universe, the character was portrayed by Robert Downey Jr., appearing in the films Iron Man (2008), The Incredible Hulk (2008) in a cameo, Iron Man 2 (2010), The Avengers (2012), Iron Man 3 (2013), Avengers: Age of Ultron (2015), Captain America: Civil War (2016), Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), Avengers: Infinity War (2018) and Avengers: Endgame (2019). The character also appeared in Spider-Man: Far From Home (2019) and in the upcoming Black Widow (2021) through archive footage.

Iron Man was ranked 12th on IGN's "Top 100 Comic Book Heroes" in 2011 and third in their list of "The Top 50 Avengers" in 2012.

> Powers, abilities, and equipment

Armor

Iron Man possesses powered armor that gives him superhuman strength and durability, flight, and an array of weapons. The armor is invented and worn by Stark (with occasional short-term exceptions). Other people who have assumed the Iron Man identity include Stark's long-time partner and best friend James Rhodes; close associates Harold "Happy" Hogan; Eddie March; (briefly) Michael O'Brien and Riri Williams.

The weapons systems of the suit have changed over the years, but Iron Man's standard offensive weapons have always been the repulsor rays that are fired from the palms of his gauntlets. Other weapons built into various incarnations of the armor include: the uni-beam projector in its chest; pulse bolts (that pick up kinetic energy along the way; so the farther they travel, the harder they hit); an electromagnetic pulse generator; and a defensive energy shield that can be extended up to 360 degrees. Other capabilities include: generating ultra-freon (i.e., a freeze-beam); creating and manipulating magnetic fields; emitting sonic blasts; and projecting 3-dimensional holograms (to create decoys).

In addition to the general-purpose model he wears, Stark has developed several specialized suits for space travel, deep-sea diving, stealth, and other special purposes. Stark has modified suits, like the Hulkbuster heavy armor. The Hulkbuster armor is composed of add-ons to his so-called modular armor, designed to enhance its strength and durability enough to engage the Hulk in a fight. A later model, created with the help of Odin and the Asgardian metal Uru, is similar to the Destroyer. Stark develops an electronics pack during the Armor Wars that, when attached to armors that use Stark technologies, will burn out those components, rendering the suit useless. This pack is ineffective on later models. While it is typically associated with James Rhodes, the War Machine armor began as one of Stark's specialty armors.

The most recent models of Stark's armor, beginning with the Extremis armor, are now stored in the hollow portions of Stark's bones, and the personal area networking implement used to control it is implanted into his forearm, and connected directly to his central nervous system.

The Extremis has since been removed, and he now uses more conventional armors. Some armors still take a liquid form, but are not stored within his body. His Endo-Sym Armor incorporates a combination of the liquid smart-metal with the alien Venom symbiote, psionically controlled by Stark.

Post-Secret Wars, Stark uses a more streamlined suit of armor that uses nanotechnology to shape shift into other armors or weapons.

Powers

After being critically injured during a battle with the Extremis-enhanced Mallen, Stark injects his nervous system with modified techno-organic virus-like body restructuring machines (the Extremis process). By rewriting his own biology, Stark is able to save his life, gain an enhanced healing factor, and partially merge with the Iron Man armor, superseding the need for bulky, AI-controlled armors in favor of lighter designs, technopathically controlled by his own brain. His enhanced technopathy extends to every piece of technology, limitless and effortlessly due to his ability to interface with communication satellites and wireless connections to increase his "range". Some components of the armor-sheath are now stored in Tony's body, able to be recalled, and extruded from his own skin, at will.

During the "Secret Invasion" storyline the Extremis package is catastrophically shut down by a virus, forcing him again to rely on the previous iteration of his armor, and restoring his previous limitations. Furthermore, Osborn's takeover of most of the few remaining Starktech factories, with Ezekiel Stane systematically crippling the others, limits Tony to the use of lesser, older and weaker armors.

After being forced to "wipe out" his brain to prevent Norman Osborn from gaining his information, Tony Stark is forced to have a new arc reactor, of Rand design installed in his chest. The process greatly improves his strength, stamina and intellect. The procedure left him with virtually no autonomic functions: as his brain was stripped of every biological function, Tony is forced to rely on a digital backup of his memories (leaving him with severe gaps and lapses in his long-term memory) and on software routine in the arc reactor for basic stimuli reaction, such as blinking and breathing. The Bleeding Edge package of armor and physical enhancement is now equal in power, if not a more advanced, version of the old Extremis tech.

Skills

Tony Stark is an inventive genius whose expertise in the fields of mathematics, physics, chemistry, and computer science rivals that of Reed Richards, Hank Pym, and Bruce Banner, and his expertise in electrical engineering and mechanical engineering surpasses even theirs. He is regarded as one of the most intelligent characters in the Marvel Universe. He graduated with advanced degrees in physics and engineering at the age of 17 from Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT) and further developed his knowledge ranging from artificial intelligence to quantum mechanics as time progressed. His expertise extends to his ingenuity in dealing with difficult situations, such as difficult foes and deathtraps, in which he is capable of using available tools, including his suit, in unorthodox but effective ways. For instance, in Stark's final confrontation with Obadiah Stane, the villain managed to have Stark's companions in an unconscious state in a room with motion sensors; when Stark entered the room, Stane warned him that the slightest move would trigger a fatal electrical current to his hostages, thus forcing Stark to stay still and slowly die of dehydration lest he wants his friends to die. However, while Stane was confident that such a trap was inescapable, Stark is able to outwit and defeat its mechanism in seconds, thus freeing the hostages and allowing him to continue the battle against Stane.

He is well respected in the business world, able to command people's attention when he speaks on economic matters, having over the years built up several multimillion-dollar companies from virtually nothing. He is noted for the loyalty he commands from and returns to those who work for him, as well as for his business ethics. Thus he immediately fired an employee who made profitable, but illegal, sales to Doctor Doom. He strives to be environmentally responsible in his businesses.

At a time when Stark was unable to use his armor for a period, he received some combat training from Captain America and has become physically formidable on his own when the situation demands it. In addition, Stark possesses great business and political acumen. On multiple occasions he reacquired control of his companies after losing them amid corporate takeovers.

Due to his membership in the Illuminati, Iron Man was given the Space Infinity Gem to safeguard. It allows the user to exist in any location (or all locations), move any object anywhere throughout the universe and warp or rearrange space.

[alternatebrainiverse]

Just like a track would form if you walked the same way through a forest each day, your brain and nervous system take the neural pathways that are most familiar when stressed.

Resilience and self regulation can be increased or reduced at any time depending on what pathways are most frequently taken.

Racing thoughts, high reactivity or strong anxiety whenever you try to move outside your comfort zone, or falling into dispare or helplessness can be familiar pathways from your past. They may have formed from a time when you needed to be on guard, when things fell apart, or from a situation where you felt helpless.

It's not your fault if they still play out today. Past experiences leave behind a residue that shape your brain and nervous system and can make them sensitive to danger. Experience is the catalyst for the way your brain grows, learns and rewires. A history of adversity can lead to survival responses activating whenever you face demands.

The human brain and nervous system developed with a negative bias: they store and recall information that's stressful to keep you safe. You may leave the present and go into the defensiveness or anxiety of sympathetic mobilisation or disappear into the disconnection of dorsal vagal shut-down. This causes a kind of inner homelessness.

Your capacity for resilience and self regulation is learnable and recoverable. They're innate to your brain and nervous system. Staying present under pressure, calming strong fear, responding flexibly when you feel stuck, pausing when you feel reactive, seeing other options when it feels hopeless, persevering when you feel overwhelming doubt: they're all something you can learn.

Imagine the work that's required at first to create a new clearing in a forrest. It can be the same when you shift from responding to old ways to stress arousal.

There may be some discomfort and you need to invest time and effort. It takes consistent and intentional practise, but you can develop the neural circuitry that helps you stay more balanced under pressure.

These changes require more than insight and understanding. You need to develop an awareness of your nervous system when you're under stress, and then create a new experience physiologically rather than being consumed by it, lost in fight flight or freeze.

The neural networks underlying your coping strategies and reactions to stress can be shaped and modified by self directed neuroplasticity.

In time, the new pathways of responding in calmer and less reactive ways to triggers becomes the track you walk down, as with practise it becomes the familiar one.

@repairing_the_nervouse_system

#dailypractise

[mystic-voyager]

Serpent’s Spell

Part I - Tribune Of Gold

Part II - Call To My Past

Date: 23/01/20

Ship: (Platonic) Anxceit

Mentions: LAMP

Word Count: 1200

Trigger Warning: Kidnapping.

Song Inspiration: 

Come Along

Sorcerers Apprentice Soundtrack

Sorcerers Apprentice

Tessellate

Freeze Me

Pluto

Cerberus

Summary: A war wages on between the Light and Dark sides. Sacrificing himself, Virgil makes a deal with the devil to save his family, but at what cost? 

It was only a matter of time.

Lying in wait.

It was torturous, although expected. One after another. Attack after attack.

They were all exhausted. Virgil, Patton, Roman and Logan. However, just then at that moment, a pool had guilt have surfaced within the anxious male's stomach.

Virgil new them. They were unforgiving and determined. Especially when they wanted something ... or someone. Whether or not it was theirs in the first place. To them, it didn't matter. They would destroy whatever stood in their way.

No guilt. No shame. No mercy.  

What did he expect would happen when he left? Well, Virgil expected a lot of things, but not this. He never wanted to have caused a war to wage because of his choice.

They didn't know...the light sides. They never knew the reason behind the attacks, and Virgil hadn't told them. How could he? He is what they wanted, and after many failed attempts, they still hadn't succeeded.

They waited and waited. Side by side, ready for whatever was thrown their way. Nothing. The attack never came. Something wasn't right. It was unlike the other side to just ... change plans.

This was it. Now or never. Virgil took the chance to slip away. No-one would have to know. Taking the opportunity, Virgil parted from the group in silence and returned to his domain.

"Deceit! Deceit!" The male shouted into the dark, open, soundproofed room. "I know you can hear me!" He called out to a seemingly empty room. The male looked around as silence settled, before a figure step out from the shadows.

"You called" A cold placated voice drifted around the room effortlessly, circling Virgil. "End this now! You won't win"  Virgil demanded, not playing games. His voice assertive and stern as he squared his shoulders and straightened his back. The demand did not sit well with the intruder. As the 2 faced male swept forwards instantaneously, Only to appear inches away from the other. The sudden movement caused the other to visibly flinch, only for Virgil to remain and stand his ground.

Deceits eyes narrowed as a cold chill entered the room. "Excuse me" The snake faced male inquired, as he looked down upon the anxious boy that stood before him, who’s heart was repeatedly hammering into his chest. Only for Virgil to reiterate once more, as a wave of newly found confidence had presented.

"Do I have to repeat myself? I said ..." Virgil Paused, only taking a step closer each time he spoke. "End" Step "This" Step "Now" Step. Both had locked eyes with one another in challenge. Virgil knew Deceit better than anyone. Deceit didn't take orders. He gave them.

"And just who do you think you are talking to?" The 2 faced male questioned in a cold steel tone, whilst his eyes narrowed like a predator would on its prey.

"I mean it Deceit. This has gone on for long enough. No one else needs to get hurt" The boy's tone full of confidence as he maintained eye contact with the other. His fight or flight instincts kicked in, screaming, demanding, that he leave, to save himself from the danger that had presented.

Deceits cool, calm and collected demeanour remained, to which Virgil noticed. "How about me make a deal?" The deceitful side spoke as he rose his head in curiosity, only for the anxious male to see the sly smile that played on his lips.  

"I have had it with you!" Virgil roared back in response before he could register his actions. He found himself swinging for the intruder, out of rage and anger.

But the pain and contact never came.

Heavy breathing resonated from the boy as he realised what he had done. Looking up through fearful eyes, he witnessed the scene that played out in front of him. Deceit had a tight, firm lock on Virgil's wrist. Seeing the others brow raised in question, knowing deep down there was a white-hot fury, that was so well hidden beneath his eloquent facade. He made an effort to release himself from the other painful hold to no avail.

"Now ... That wasn't very smart now was it?" The snake's tone level and serene, which sent shivers down the other's spine. Virgil tried to relieve the pain of deceit death-like grip on his wrist, which only grew tighter the more he struggled. Painful enough to which he could no longer hold back his inaudible whimper of pain which escaped his lips.

The 2 faced male leant in closer, where Virgil could feel his breath dance along the hairs on his neck. "You started this Virgil. You know how to put an end to it." Deceit pulled away only just, to maintain eye contact once more.

"I gave you time ..."

He rose his hand, as an empty hourglass appeared.

" ... But now your times up"

Deep-seated fear lurked within the boy as he watched the hourglass disappear, his attention brought back to the soft light glow that had slowly appeared.

These 2 were no strangers, although Virgil would rather they were. He knew Deceit and the power he possessed. Virgil resumed a futile struggle. His eyes never leaving the soft, golden glow which emanated from the others form, unable to stop his quivering of pleases that escaped him.

"Wait - Wait ... De-Deceit! Please ... Don ...D-Don't" Virgil pulled against the other as the shimmer of gold brightened hue. Moments later, the light drifted down Deceits arm, towards Virgil, where the two were physically connected.

All the while, in which Virgil watched against his will, Deceit never took his eyes off his prize. Soon enough the gold aura had engulfed the boy. "De...Deceit!" Virgil squirmed as the light began to pulsate around him and his form.

As if Deceit had read his mind, Virgil made a sudden attempt to call out for help. "He-" To then get abruptly cut off and silenced with a twist of the others free hand. "Ah, Ah, Ah. Not so fast" The boy's captor mocked in reprimand, now having silenced the boy.

Not long after, had Deceit's effects began to take over. He watched as Virgil's usual midnight purple aura began to fade before a golden glow took its place. Through hooded eyes, the snake watched as Virgil’s eyes began to flutter shut, only for there to be resistance while the boy continued to struggle against the warming effects.

As Deceit observed, he settled a gentle palm upon the others head before carding a gloved hand through the boy's hair, in a soothing motion, to which had the desired effect.

The golden aura grew brighter, meanwhile all movement ceased and the boy stilled. Simultaneously, Virgil's eyes shut and his legs gave out. Expecting to feel the impact of hitting a hard floor, only not to. Deceit caught the male before picking up his limp unconscious form.

Deceit admired the features on the others face, as he gently swept a lock of hair back into its respectful place. Unable to shake how peaceful and relaxed the other now was after having spared his life. The tenebrous room fell motionless and quiet.

"It’s time you came home"

[ghost-chance]

PTSD confessions - Panic is contagious...and it’s not your fault.

When I was first diagnosed with PTSD, I never imagined all the unanswerable questions it would give me, or all the dilemmas it would bring. Today brought a reminder of one such dilemma. Since my ‘anniversary’ is coming up soon (in May) I’ve been posting and talking more about PTSD than usual. It’s not always easy, but I remember what it was like when I first started fighting it. I remember having all these questions and being afraid to ask them...and if opening up about my experiences helps even one person feel less like they’re alone, then it’s worth the struggle of recounting it.

Panic attacks aren’t exclusive to PTSD - they can occur with other problems like phobias, anxiety disorders, and more - and though this post literally has PTSD written all over it, it applies to other causes of panic attacks, too.

I’m not the best at wording things at times - an indirect result of PTSD, unfortunately, is attention, focus, and concentration difficulties - so please understand if this comes across as rambling or a little off. If you read this and want to talk, I’m up for it - just PM me or Ask with your name attached. (No anonymous Asks, please.)

Panic attacks are overwhelming.

When you’re having a panic attack, you can lose sight of what’s going on around you. It’s not because you become blind to it, but because you become too attuned to it. Every little detail, from the vital to the most trivial, grabs your attention at the same time and shakes it like a dog playing tug-of-war. Everything swarms you at once - the trigger for your panic attack, the smell of the burger joint nearby, the song playing on someone’s radio, the color of the sky, the pounding of your heart and the crawling of your skin - it’s sensory overload.

Your panic attacks don’t just affect you.

With all that tactile information registering at once and all the chemicals and nerves firing off in your brain, it’s easy to lose sight of the people around you and their reactions. You don’t necessarily see if people are concerned about you or if they’re frightened by your behavior. You don’t consider how other people might be affected by your panic, or how they might respond, or what problems they may be fighting themselves. You’re trapped in a state of fight, freeze, or flight, frantically wavering between the three and constantly second-guessing and berating yourself; other people are the last thing on your mind.

Your panic response can trigger others’ panic response.

It’s Spring in Missouri, and Spring means storms. Earlier today, I got a frantic call from a relative out of the blue. There’s a tornado warning out - you’ve got to get home, you’ve got to get to safety. There was much more to it and I could hear this person trying to hide the physical symptoms of the panic attack they were tipping into. A racing heart-rate makes your voice shaky, an adrenaline boost raises the pitch and volume, hyperventilation leads to talking faster to get words out in your limited amount of air - the signs are all there if you know what to look for. There was no tornado warning for our city or county - it was off to the southeast of us - but there’s still the possibility for tornadic storms to hit our area. It is, after all, Spring in Missouri, and we both have varying degrees of PTSD due to the same monster storm. A large portion of my hometown developed PTSD after that storm, and even years later, people are still affected by the trauma they endured.

Contagious fear can cause relapses in your recovery.

Before that call, I was already aware of the weather and possible threat - I was out in the rain and had just checked my phone for any new warnings. I had my discomfort under control even after finding the “tornado warning for X county” message and catching a glimpse of cloud-to-ground lightning in the distance. After that call, I started getting shaky and losing grip on my own calm; my heart-rate, adrenaline, and pulse spiked, and I found my eyes darting from cloud to cloud in search of a threat that was several counties away. Fortunately, this ain’t my first rodeo - I know how to handle it. I sat my ass down, dropped my head to my knees, dug my nails into my wrist to block out the fear with physical discomfort, and took several deep measured breaths. A few minutes later, I was level again - irritated at myself for being swept away, sure, that’s pretty normal for me - but I managed to avoid spiraling into an actual panic attack. I managed to cut it off before it got beyond a low-four on the 1-10 high-low anxiety scale.

People don’t heal at the same pace.

If this relative in question is willing to do the necessary work, they can learn to cut off their panic attacks as well. For now, they’re stuck in the denial stage; they may never conquer their trauma because they may never be ready to admit they need help. It breaks my heart...but it’s not my right to demand they take care of themselves, and it’s not my place to try and ‘fix them.’ When they ask for help, I do, but I’m not going to butt in unless they begin literally endangering themselves and others.

Panic attacks don’t happen in a vacuum.

When you have a panic attack, it doesn’t just affect you - you’re not a fish in a bowl in a room full of other, separate fishbowls. The symptoms of your panic can and usually do affect others no matter how hard you try to prevent it. People will be uncomfortable, they’ll worry; some will be irritated or frightened, mistaking your behavior as stupid, irrational, crazy, or even threatening. They may assume you’re a danger to yourself or to others, or even become confrontational. Aside from these reactions, there’s another messy fact: fear is contagious. When your fears take over and your panic symptoms become visible, others in the area with anxiety of their own can be triggered by your panic...and you may never realize it until long after it’s over...when you do realize it, you’ll want to kick yourself for not noticing. DON’T. Just don’t even go there, it will only hurt you in the long run.

You are responsible for you - no one else, just you.

Although your symptoms can affect those around you, that is not your fault. You can’t control the reactions of others, especially not when you’re struggling to control your own reactions. You aren’t responsible for the way others respond, only for what you do. Eventually, when you begin to get your panic attacks under control and become able to calm or stop them before they get out of hand, you’ll be able to be proactive about how you may be affecting others. You can teach yourself methods and habits to protect yourself and others, and keep your fears from spreading. In fact, I highly encourage that...but if you can’t manage it, or you aren’t ready, pushing yourself to do so will only set you back. It’s like trying to put out a skillet fire by smashing a lid on it - you’re trapping the fire (your panic) inside with the fuel and air (the triggered responses and your body’s physical and chemical responses.) You have to cut off what feeds the fire before you can put it out.

You can’t stop panic by adding to it.

Your fears, however irrational or illogical they may be, are still valid fears - there’s a reason you’re afraid and chances are it’s not your fault. You owe it to yourself to focus on you when your world feels like it’s falling down. If you react to a building panic attack by worrying about how you’re affecting others or focusing on what they’re thinking, that’s focus you’re not putting toward using your coping skills and stopping that panic in its tracks. If your house is on fire, you don’t have time to worry about your neighbors being bothered by your smoke detectors going off - you do what you need to and leave it at that. The rest will fall into place once your life isn’t in danger.

Forget the neighbors for now - your priority is putting out the blaze. Need a hand? I have a fire extinguisher to spare.

[antagonistchanremade]

(disclaimer: this post is all over the place because there’s something i need to get off my chest but i can’t really figure out how to word it concisely (or even necessarily at all), and i didn’t write this post entirely in order, and just. hopefully you’ll understand what i’m getting at if you read the whole thing? and i don’t really think this counts as discourse, because i don’t think i want anyone to actually change their behavior, i’m trying more to just, like... figure out some of my own mental problems)

it is very frustrating when there’s a post about racial issues that reads very similarly to ways that i’ve been abused. because like. it hurts a lot but i can’t really say anything about it because it’s something that does need to be said.

i’m not sure how to word this properly, just. like.

there are a lot of posts about, like, white people performatively trying to get woke points to appear racially progressive without actually being super progressive about race. and, like, i don’t doubt that that’s a problem. i’ve been on the other side of that sort of thing when it comes to lgbt+ issues (especially trans issues) and mental health issues. i understand that it’s a thing that needs to be fixed, and i also understand how incredibly satisfying and calming it is to get that sort of anger off your chest.

but at the same time, i’ve got my own mental baggage with being told that i’m not trying hard enough at stuff? it is a very common problem that people with adhd have to deal with, being constantly yelled at and belittled for supposedly not trying hard enough at anything. and this has seriously left its mark on me. even the slightest accusation of not putting in enough effort absolutely activates my fight-or-flight reflex (or rather, my fight-flight-freeze-or-fawn reflex, seriously this thread on twitter has been amazing for helping me understand myself). and it’s coupled with an accusation that i’m just trying to look good so i can be worshipped. and on some level, i kind of am just trying to look good, but it’s not because i’m seeking worship, it’s because i’m seeking approval (see again, that twitter thread). and these posts are often very demanding, saying that i need to read this fully and internalize it. and most white people, regardless of how “woke” they are, absolutely do. but, like, this sort of language is kinda triggering for me. especially because of my rsd- i think i’m actually pretty good about the things these posts are about, like constantly thinking about how my white privilege affects me and actually being conscious instead of just parroting progressive catchphrases, because this sort of stuff is always on my mind (and, to make it obvious that i’m not trying to make myself seem noble, it’s not always on my mind because i’m just That Good Of An Ally, it’s always on my mind because i’m self-conscious as all hell). but my rsd goes “look!!! they’re complaining about white people!!! They Hate You, Specifically, So Much”. and like, they’re often about people who only do the performative things and don’t actually think about their privilege, but they’re often worded as if they’re complaining about everyone who does the performative things period, and that’s what makes my rsd go crazy. like they’re somehow implying that trying to show my support is inherently evil, but not actually saying what i should be doing instead, and just. god, the problem isn’t them. what they’re saying is absolutely right, and absolutely needs to be said, the problem is my own mental health. like, i shouldn’t think of it as “doing This Thing is racially progressive, and doing This Thing is racist”, because it’s really about being conscious about this stuff, but people have emotionally manipulated me to think about things the former way, so when people tell me not to think like that, i panic and go “BUT WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO DO??????????????????????????? JUST TELL ME WHAT YOU WANT AND I’LL DO IT” because that’s the fucked up way my emotional response works.

just. so much discourse is aimed specifically at people who don’t think like me, who don’t have the same fucked up trauma that i have, and because it’d be ridiculous to ask that people always keep that in mind, they, of course, don’t, and i end up feeling attacked on all sides by people just trying to defend themselves and speak their minds.

and i can’t even complain at them, because they probably already have a ton of angry white people whining about how ThEy’Re NoT lIkE tHaT!!!#NotAllWhitePeople, and i don’t wanna add to that pile.

[kiruuuuu]

Tachanka/Vigil oneshot in which horrible, horrible things happen. (Rating M/E, angst and some gore, ~2.5k words) - written for @zer0kaji because it’s your birthday, my dear 💞💞 I didn’t ask you for a prompt so I hope this is alright! Happy birthday 💗

.

His heartbeat is deafening, the blood roaring in his ears muffling all sounds around him: the wet squelches of his soles hitting the mud, his laboured breaths, the rustling of the undergrowth through which he’s bursting; the footsteps following him, entirely too fast for how degraded the muscles must be.

Every single step is agony, his injured leg pulsing and throbbing, sending a sharp twang of pain through his body whenever he sets his foot down yet ignoring the ache is remarkably easy considering his life is on the line and dependent on him reaching the wooden hut he saw in the distance, a weak promise of temporary shelter and refuge. He doesn’t dare hope but maybe there’s weapons inside, a first aid kit, anything to ensure his survival.

Because if not, he’ll be stuck. And they’ll catch up to him.

Never before has any noise been as sweet as the slam of the door behind him, as the reassuring click of the deadbolt. It might’ve been a hunter’s hut, but whatever it was it’s been vacated, empty shelves greeting him, barren drawers gaping with their doors open, mocking his plight and refusing to offer any assistance. Even so, he’s grateful for the brief reprieve and considers collapsing right then and there, his brain struggling to process any of what happened – nightmarish images begin flooding his mind before he can stop himself and he’s threatening to spiral, allow a crash from which he won’t be able to recover.

When a body collides with the door loudly, he jumps. For now, it holds, but the noise is followed by a something not quite a knock, a meaty thumping against the solid wood, too arrhythmic to be human and the volume speaking of a complete lack of care for the creature’s own well-being. Its eerie quality freezes his heart and makes his fingertips twitch, triggering his fight response seeing as he attempted flight previously – and unsuccessfully. After more than a minute, it finally stops. Maybe the monstrosity got bored. Maybe it’ll wander off.

He allows himself a silent, deep breath. Then he notices one of the windows not being hammered shut.

.

Vigil has always been self-reliant. Not the kind who strive to be aggressively independent, reject authority or set out to follow their dreams, but the kind who are satisfied with themselves as company. Who prefer not asking for help and instead master obstacles through their own resourcefulness. Who don’t demand or expect much, the ones who seek perfection yet settle when they realise it’s unattainable. Accepting Blackbeard’s advice, confiding in him, even trusting him to a certain degree was painfully difficult, required compromises and understanding on both sides, took an embarrassing amount of time. But at least it paved the way for the second friendship he developed in Rainbow.

Oddly enough, Tachanka is quiet in his presence. Among his countrymen, he boasts and admonishes, teases and lets out hearty laughs which shake the walls, even with some of the other operators, the old Russian is jovial and easygoing. His booming voice often dominates the cacophony of a crowded room and wherever he walks, his colleagues step aside. When he was younger, Vigil read an ancient Western comic featuring a knight respected and revered, battle-weary yet full of hope regardless, having earned awe as well as camaraderie. He sees the same spirit in pale blue eyes.

And yet he’s muted around Vigil, dulled, almost as if he was walking on eggshells and it irritates him. He’s used to similar treatment, used to being ignored, mocked or dragged into conversations against his will, he’s experienced it all and come up with proper responses, but somehow Tachanka’s silence bothers him to a worrying extent. So he talks to him. Pokes and prods out of spite, prickly comments followed by inflammatory questions, his temper seeping through the seams carefully holding him together. He never accuses him of anything outright but tests him nonetheless, scouring his replies for racism, pity, dismay, anything to explain the Russian’s change of demeanour around him. He comes up empty.

Not quite empty, though. There is something. Between his suspicious inquiries and Tachanka’s vaguely bemused responses, they become accustomed to each other. After a long period of being watched warily by their colleagues, they finally figure out how to angle themselves so they snap together, like puzzle pieces who don’t quite fit but are good enough and then Tachanka is asking him for help in navigating an unfamiliar website and Vigil is describing Korean cuisine to him. The incessant river of Vigil’s undivided attention and determined prodding eventually eroded a canyon comprised of forgetting the time during a long conversation, bringing up uncomfortably private topics, friendly silences and encouraging smiles exchanged across the room; a canyon not permitting him any other alternative but to keep floating towards Tachanka, hovering in his orbit and breathing more easily in his presence.

He’s surprisingly gentle.

When Vigil eventually asks about his early quietness, the Russian tells him that he was under the impression Vigil preferred silence over forced conversation – which isn’t wrong. In retrospect, he seems amused to learn how much his considerate behaviour got under Vigil’s skin, and a while later, in a whisper, he admits that Vigil was the only one with whom he didn’t feel the need to prove himself.

He’s gentle. And Vigil stretches towards his affection like a needy kitten.

.

The pane explodes inwards. Instinctively turning away from the shards raining on him, he catches sight of a sturdy-looking wardrobe possibly robust enough to block the new entrance into his hideout. Shaking crystalline glass out of his hair, he realises there’s something else to be taken care of first, something too grotesque and bone-chilling to describe further, something on which his eyes refuse to focus, instead gracing him only with a blurred mass of decaying flesh, pus, blood and other bodily fluids, stiff limbs. Not human. He has to repeat it to himself, over and over, chastising himself for the paradoxical notion that the creatures having lost all of their humanity somehow makes it harder to dispose of them.

He’s… gotten rid of quite a few before, so it’s done with the mechanical efficiency of someone who’s become numb to the horrors of reality – a numbness accompanied by an alarming lack of emotions. They’re a luxury he can ill afford right now. A table leg buries itself into a nauseatingly soft torso, the body giving in willingly yet retaliating with a truly sickening stench emanating from pierced internal organs. Momentarily incapacitated, hand-like claws curiously ghost over the foreign object impaled in rotten skin and allow him enough time to break off another makeshift club with which he dispatches of the abomination.

Pride flares up at him when he manages to push the closet in front of the crimson-spattered windowsill before violently vomiting into a corner. He’s seen worse, he tries to convince himself, has lost people closer to him, has experienced similar tragedies. He’s seen worse, he keeps repeating, yet another one of his mantras aimed at retaining his sanity, but then he remembers and retches again, the harsh bite of his own stomach acid burning all the way.

Shrill shrieks of terror ring in his ears and once more, he’s cursed to helplessly watch as Dokkaebi is torn apart alive, fallen to the wolves and struggling with all her might, eyes wide and futilely jerking away when teeth pierce the skin of her throat. A hand wrapped around his wrist and pulled him away from the mesmerising view, simultaneously real and impossible, the contradiction paralysing him whole. She used to yell at him when he folded the clothes she left lying around. She used to nudge him with an elbow during their conversations now and then, the physical contact bemoaned yet secretly welcomed as a sign of friendliness. She was a person with a past and a future, now reduced to – to nothing, the sum of her parts infinitely more meaningful than this, than bloody pieces scattered -

His cheeks are wet. Whether it’s the overwhelming grief, the sheer exertion or his pulsing leg, he doesn’t know. He notices red on his fingers, belatedly pulls out a transparent shard without even grimacing and can’t find the capacity to fall into a panic about mixing his blood with that of the lifeless monster outside.

When he settles by the wardrobe, wipes away moisture with a sleeve, he hears them coming. A straggler caught sight of him during his escape, now nothing more than insect fodder outside, but the small group chasing him seems to have tracked his scent to his current location. They, too, smash against the door, dumbly yet without holding back.

Vigil begins considering the possibility that he might not leave the small house alive. This time, he doesn’t bother drying his tears.

.

Tachanka is invincible.

With some of the other operators, Vigil feels his protective instincts kick in, the wish awaken to help and support and grant much-needed salvation or rest, but the Russian is immune, impervious, invulnerable. Whatever happens in his life, he picks himself up and carries on either stoically or with a humorous remark on his lips. He remains unfazed in the face of abject horror and keeps his cool, always stays, always answers. His reliability tricks Vigil into relinquishing some of his own, persuades him to lean against this bear of a man, allow himself to relax. To trust.

It’s new, the entire experience is breathtaking and strangely exciting as if he was doing an extreme sport instead of accepting someone into his personal space and he begins carrying a sun in his heart, glows from the inside and radiates warmth. He never thought an accent-laden voice, heavy with memories, could bring him such peace, never considered a gruff yet kind man could calm the stormy seas inside him.

So when he hears Tachanka’s words waver, watches his face pale, feels his hands shake, an unparalleled terror takes up residence in his chest – because if the boulder is in fear, the pebble is doomed.

The list of things which went wrong is troubling, the events leading to their team being stranded and confronted with the unthinkable a blur in Vigil’s memory. His mind refuses to remember which part was his fault, which part anyone else’s, whether fate itself decided their path.

Mute was the first to go, hammering home the reality of it all, the omnipresent danger, and leaving them all shaken, lost, mourning. Even Tachanka.

A day after Dokkaebi – a day after, Vigil sees it. Knows Buck isn’t aware because as distressed as the Canadian is, he hasn’t lost his sense of practicality and would indubitably have brought it up, possibly to a vote, pleading and reasoning with the last two of his companions. Calling for a decision Vigil is unable to make, unable to fathom in the first place, the idea so vague and yet so atrocious in his head he casts it out immediately. He keeps quiet about the teeth marks, doesn’t speak up when Tachanka wraps himself in bandages claiming a harmless injury, mentions nothing when they seek solace in each other.

He can’t. Because allowing for it to leave his tongue would call for consequences too cutting to be worth it. So he stays mute, clings and suppresses his thoughts.

This is on him. He knows it with unshakeable clarity the moment he returns to their makeshift camp, hears the vile, wet noises, the cracking of bones and muffled snarling, the moment he catches sight of Buck’s torn uniform, of all the bright, viscous red. Of pale blue eyes sliding over to him, sated for the moment, chewing with his mouth open, yet the hunger behind the irises is unmistakeable.

It’s on him. Vigil knows it. Refuses to shift any of the blame, despite the fact neither of them spoke up – but he wasn’t the one affected, not the one in mortal danger, terrified and without a way out. He should’ve made a decision but as always, he remained quiet.

.

Now Vigil is sitting here, waiting for inspiration to strike. Communications are dead, have been for a worrying amount of time. For days, he’s been doing nothing but running, always running, memories of his childhood plaguing him, unbidden as they are relevant. They fuse together with reality, at times his mother whispers into his ear, his father holds his hand and drags him forwards, like Tachanka, both of them urging him to move on, grieve later, concentrate on surviving. He was tired then and is utterly exhausted now.

Outside, they’re testing the walls for weakspots, skulls smashing against the boards covering the windows, fingers scratching themselves bloody on the façade. It’s a matter of time, probably, but for the moment he should rest, gather energy, then come up with a plan to escape – the furniture must have nails, maybe he can…

A loud crack makes his eyes flit over to the window next to him, bright sunshine blinding him momentarily and his brain struggles to process that one of the monsters outside must’ve ripped off one of the planks. They might be fast yet usually they lack intelligence, choosing instead to brute force their way to their next meal. This one must be -

Slowly, a shadow pushes itself in front of the newly-made hole, blotting out the sun. It’s a face, putrid and decayed, the flesh sagging and exposing bone in some places, the one eye looking around with disturbing alertness bloodshot. And pale blue.

Vigil’s breathing calms. As always, peace spreads inside him, though this time it’s borne of another source, arises with a different quality. Now he knows he won’t make it out because he – it – he is invincible, impervious, invulnerable. He’ll track him down. So there’s only one alternative left.

He still has his belt. It was practical in that he lost weight quickly and needed it; now it’s invaluable. They used up all their ammunition and he left his knife behind in a slain body. There’s a wooden beam spanning across the room and the previous occupant helpfully left behind a chair for him to use, so if he’s quick enough, he won’t even feel the first nibble. He’s overcome with the sudden and entirely inappropriate urge to laugh while pulling the leather out of his belt loops, but the notion disappears quickly when hands reach inside and start pulling on the next board.

“I’m sorry”, he hears himself say as he gets up, voice unsteady. “I’m so sorry.”

Vigil hopes fiercely there’s no more after he’s done, that he’ll be embraced by eternal darkness instead of being sent somewhere else and potentially reuniting with the ones he loved. He hopes desperately, desperately that there’s nothing afterwards. Because he doesn’t think he’d be forgiven, least of all by himself.