#i rlly hope they understand the situation?? and that i can still have my surgery bc what else am i supposed to do???

[silenthillbunni]

🏫🍃🌥️

[gettin-bi-bi-bi]

hi uhm, im non-binary and my legs shape and boobs make me a little dysphoric (im dysphoric about the "such a nice figure" that mothers usually say, my mum is super disappointed that I don't like my own tiddies :| ), im fine since I can wear rlly big clothes and "hide" my body but I'm worried that someday I will want to have sex and I don't know how, because I don't think I will someday be able to be naked in front of anybody and touch each other, I think I like the idea of sex but I don't like the idea of someone seeing/touching my waist/hips/legs/tiddies etc, i don't know why am I worried about this, I feel dumb lol, is this even something to be worried about ? are there any tips or any magical-fantastic idea of trans people about this ?

I left this in the inbox for a while hoping the other mods would answer because I’m literally the only cis person running this blog lol But they all seem to be busy so you’ll have to make do with me for now. I obviously can’t fully relate to this on a personal level. But I will try to give some advice based on what I’ve seen from other trans and non-binary people. And maybe the other mods want to add something to this afterwards.

Sex is definitely a common trigger of body dysphoria for a lot of trans people afaik - but not for all. But since you already suspect this could happen, I guess it’s likely that you are one of the people who could feel dysphoric during sex. I think that is one of many reasons why a lot of trans people date other trans people - because there’s a mutual understanding that each others bodies won’t necessarily ~look cis~. And I imagine it’s a lot easier to be cool about your body (and also talk about potential dysphoria triggers) with someone who #gets it because they are also not cis.

In general but especially for people in your situation it is a good idea to talk to any potential sexual partners about what makes you uncomfortable during sex. Maybe together you can find a way of having sex that does not trigger your dysphoria and still makes both of you happy. I think that non-binary and trans resources will probably have some more concrete advice on what that could look like... better than what I can offer you as a cis person. But what comes to mind is for example mutual masturbation - so instead of touching each other, you touch yourselves in the presence of one another. Maybe some kind of role playing could work and/or using certain toys. I mean, as for anyone who is discovering sex there is a level of experementation in this and I’d say as long as you have a respectful partner who is willing to accomodate and work on this together then you can end up with a fulfilling sex life - if that’s what you want. If you prefer to not have sex because the risk of it being triggering seems to big for you that’s absolutely valid, too.

I would also think that the risk of sex being a trigger of your dysphoria might get minimised when other sources of dysphoria are dealt with. Like, it absolutely does not help that your mother is making these comments and I hope she will realise that she’s doing much more harm than good with this and will stop! (and btw: saying she’s “disappointed” that you don’t like your breast is super weird even if you were identifying as a cis woman. like... as if afab people owe it to their mothers to be proud of their tiddies?? wtf??). I don’t know if you are considering HRT or top surgery or some kind of physical transition - but if you do then maybe at a certain point in that process your body dysphoria is managable (or completely gone) and sex suddenly doesn’t seem so “risky” anymore.

So long story short: I think it’s a valid thing to be worried about (and not uncommon for trans people) but I also think it’s something that you can work through if you want to.

Maddie

[mental-health-advice]

🏩🏩hello! i rlly just wanted some advice on smth, so basically my dad had to go to the hospital bc something happened w his heart and he ended up having surgery etc. now my parents keep telling me that i shouldnt be making him angry or upset bc he'll die and like, i understand that to an extent but honestly, i feel kind of uncomfortable when they say that because it kind of feels like theyre putting the responsibility on me. my mom told me yesterday that i shouldnt make him upset and that i should change how i am because of that, i really dont know how to feel abt it since i can understand but at the same time i dont. idk to me its like, i dont think it should be on me to regulate another persons emotions though i understand not going out of my way to make him angry, you know? anyways thanks!!!!!

Hey there,

First of all, I am so sorry to hear about your Dad being unwell! This must and must still be a difficult time for you!

Whilst I get where your parents are coming from in trying not to stress out your Dad given his heart problems, I do not think it is fair that your Mum is expecting you to change as a whole in order to make things easier and less stressful for your Dad. I am wondering if there is a way in which you could calmly have a conversation about this to your Mum and let her know that even though you will do what you can to not stress your Dad in the future, that it was unfair of her to expect you to change everything about you and who you are as a person! Maybe you could also ask your Dad for his input and about how he feels about everything that your Mum is putting on you? This would not be too corner your Mum to make her feel bad but to have the conversation between the three of you to make a compromise over what is acceptable for you to do and what isn’t.

I think (and this may not be the case at all) but it sounds like your Mum is just worried and really scared for your Dad and that she will do anything to try to control the situation to help keep him well. Does that make sense? I am sure though that if your Dad was aware of the pressure that your Mum was putting on you that he wouldn’t be OK with that at all. Hence you three sitting down together and talking about all this in a calm manner. Is this something that you think may be helpful?

I really hope that this has helped a bit and please do let us know if we can help to support you in any other way! I also hope that your Dad continues to recover well from surgery and is OK!

I’m thinking of you and hope that you are going well!

Take care,

Lauren

[welovekpopscenarios]

Forever (Jeonghan x Reader)

Admin: Mimi

Prompt/Ask: Could you do a very angsty scenario with Jeonghan (SVT) where the reader gets into an accident? The end is up to you (if there is a death or not) but rlly angsty pls thank uu

Fandom: SEVENTEEN

Genre: Angst

Pairing: Jeonghan x Reader

Warnings: slight language, self-hatred/blame, car crash, hospitals

Word Count: 1976

Authors Notes: Here you go, Jeonghan angst for your sick, twisted pleasure lmao. I joke, but I tried my best with this, I genuinely got frustrated and upset writing this haha. But! I hope you enjoy it and that it was what you asked for. Let me know if there are any errors, and happy reading! (Or not so happy reading, I guess in this case)

 - PART 2 -

Tap. Tap. Tap.

That was the only sound that could be heard in the empty living room of SEVENTEEN’s dorm. The room was dark; the blinds shut closed hastily, the only light to be found in the room coming from the digital clock on the side table, the green glow displaying the numbers 12:47.

The tapping continues, monotonously, breaking the silence in a dorm that has been plunged into quietude and despair in light of recent events. Jeonghan stares blankly ahead of him, feeling tired beyond belief but in no way shape or form in that state, too alert, too anxious. His phone sits on the armrest beside him, his fingers tap, tap, tapping impatiently against the screen, awaiting a call he knows won’t come until morning, and he hates it.

He doesn’t know whether his body is in a state of shock regarding your accident. He just worked on auto-control after one call ended and another came in yesterday, a call from a stranger, remembering vague words such as ‘emergency contact’, ‘car crash’ and ‘gravely injured’. He only slightly recalls rushing out of the company building with Seungcheol and Joshua in tow, getting into the first car he knew belonged to the company and demanded to be rushed to the hospital.

The hospital where you were held in a critical condition.

He still doesn’t believe it’s real. He just can’t understand it. He still expects to receive a good morning text from you, still expects to send one in return and tell you about his schedule, still expects the messages telling him to eat well, get rest, and do his very best today, like he always does. He just can’t fathom why that’s gone now since yesterday. Why this little mundane thing that managed to brighten up his day every single time is now just…gone. And he desperately wants it to come back.

But what he does understand, the one thing his wretched mind can make sense of in his state of gloom, is that you’re in such a dangerous and life-threatening condition after a brutal car collision.

And it was all his fault.

The members tried to dissuade his views, to lessen the burden on his shoulders and the pain in his heart but he won’t listen. Because he knows. He knows it was his fault. He should have never called you to tell you that SEVENTEEN got nominated for Artist of the Year in some awards show he doesn’t even care about anymore. When you didn’t answer, he shouldn’t have continued to call, eager to relay the good news to you. He must have worried you, he knows as well as you do that he never calls excessively, preferring to reach you later when you have time. Because of his rash decision, you answered the call while stopped at a red light in traffic, a dangerous move but he reckons you were fearful something had happened to him. He spoke over you, in a haste to get his excited news out of his system and celebrate. If he had just stopped to listen to you when you tried to explain you were busy driving, then maybe he wouldn’t have distracted you. That way, he wouldn’t have had to hear the loud crash followed by a yelp from you, glass shattering coming from your end before it all went quiet. Too quiet. And Jeonghan was certain the only sound he heard after that dreadful call was the sound of his heart plummeting from his chest and past his feet, down to the depths of darkness below.

The trip to the hospital with Seungcheol and Joshua at his side was a blur of panicked mutterings and hyperventilating, and as soon as the car pulled up outside the hospital he nearly took the door off in his haste to get to the front desk and ask where you were, how you were doing.

The lady at the desk has checked her files, and regretfully informed him that you were in surgery at the moment, that she didn’t know when you were out, that Jeonghan should sit in the waiting room until a doctor is ready to speak with him.

And so, he sat there for what felt like years, tears brimming his eyes that never fell, too proud to let his composure slip for a second. He observes the crisp white walls of the hospital surrounding him, boxing him in. He observes the pathetic attempts of colour in what he can call singlehandedly the ugliest pieces of artwork possible, and questions the need for such paintings in the first place. A hospital is a hospital. People who are sick enter to get treated, people die in them, it serves its function. People don’t have time to stop and look at those horrible paintings.

Some people don’t have that time to begin with when they enter.

He prays you weren’t one of those people.

He turned off his phone after an hour of receiving missed calls and unread messages, leaving it to Seungcheol and Joshua to break the news to the others. He didn’t want to deal with that. He couldn’t. The reality of the situation would sink in and he’d be damned if he breaks down in the middle of a fucking waiting room with strangers around him. What was it that Joshua had whispered to him at some point? Be strong for you? Yeah, that was it. Right. Be strong. He could do that.

Sure.

The doctor eventually called his name, and he almost didn’t hear, too wrapped up in his own self-loathing to be aware of what was going on around him, until someone nudged him and his snapped up, ready (but not ready – it was too soon yet it had been too long) to face whatever the doctor had to tell him.

And he really wasn’t ready to hear about the suffering you experienced because of his stupid, fucking phone call.

The doctor had spared no details, and Jeonghans terrible mind immediately recreated what was said to him – how the car had crashed into the side of yours, how your head most likely flew into the console, cracking open your skull and bruising your brain, how you had broken several bones throughout your body, how you had lost a severe amount of blood in that short amount of time and that was worrying in itself. He listened to the doctor saying how they had done everything they could to heal you, put you back together again like you were humpty dumpty (it’s not enough, do more he wanted to scream, but restrained himself), and that you were resting now after surgery.

The doctor allowed him to see you, but gazed at him with eyes full of warning, warning to prepare himself for what he will find when he enters the room.

Sparing the doctor no more than a thank you, he rushed to the room you were kept in and his knees almost gave out at the sight that greeted him.

There you lay in a room even whiter and more sterile than the waiting room, the addition of machines and monitors instead of those hideous paintings, and a bed too big for your frail form. And frail it was, covered head to toe in bruises and cuts of various colours, dried patches of blood where the doctors didn’t clean yet, and tubes sticking out from where they shouldn’t be.

You didn’t look like yourself. You didn’t. You didn’t belong in this room. You didn’t belong in this hospital. It was all his fault you were here. It should be him on that bed instead of you. He doesn’t care.

He caused immense pain to the one person who didn’t deserve it, the one person he promised he wouldn’t, and there was no other person who he hated more than himself.

It was scary how you seemed to blend in with the dullness of the room around you, your shine and brilliance missing from the world now. He wants to hear your voice once more instead of the beeps of the machines, to feel the small hand he’s grasping squeeze around his once more, to see your smiling face rather than a busted lip.

He wanted to stay there all night, all day, as long as he could, but the company wouldn’t allow it, urged him to get his rest despite his pleas and cries and begs, and so, with great reluctance and a heavy heart, he was brought home to see the faces of ten distressed boys, concerned for your well-being and for his.

And he couldn’t feel worse.

He doesn’t know when exactly he fell asleep, but when he woke up, he found he was covered in a blanket and a pillow was placed under his head. He smells Mingyu’s cooking from the kitchen, can hear the boys shuffle around, and all of this is almost enough to get him to forget what happened, until he sees his phone, free of any good morning messages, and once again he’s plunged into a case of anguish and hatred.

It's close to ten in the morning, and he’s about to get up and make himself somewhat presentable when his phone buzzes and he answers with lightning speed. The hospital wants him to come down to discuss an unfortunate development in your state, him being the only one to contact as your parents are still out of the country, and he agrees with a shaky voice, getting ready as fast as possible to head back to the dreaded building, this time with twelve boys behind him in tow, insistent on supporting the two of you.

And so, the group enters the hospital and alerts a nurse to their presence, making a beeline to your room and awaiting the doctor’s news. The boys gasp and display horrified expressions at the sight of you, murmuring phrases of sympathy to Jeonghan but he pays them no mind, too busy focusing on you. You look the same as yesterday, but something seems off, and it makes his skin crawl.

The doctor form yesterday makes his appearance, and looks reluctant to share the news in front of a crowd, but Jeonghan tells him to continue. Whatever he says to him he can say to them as well. They’re a family.

But Jeonghan wasn’t expecting to be told you were in a coma. And that they have no clue when you will wake up. Could be days, weeks, months, years from this very moment.

More medical phrases are thrown at him, and going completely over his head because his brain has shut down, just blank. Blank except for the image of you on your first date with Jeonghan. A day filled with nerves and shy touches. A day he’ll never be able to go back to, but one he holds dear in his heart, as well as the other ones. Ones, he realises, he won’t get to have again.

And, it’s with this thought in his mind, that once the doctor leaves the room and it’s just him, you, and the other members, he breaks down, the tears that were bubbling under the surface since yesterday spilling over with no signs of stopping, his chest heaving for air that just won’t come.

Some members stand shocked or sorrowful, watching the seen with saddened eyes, others rush to his side to wrap him up in their arms, arms that feel too suffocating for him.

You’ve been taken away from him. He doesn’t know when you’ll speak or walk or even look at him again. And he feels nothing but emptiness take over him despite the other members in the room.

But he’ll wait forever if he must. He will. He loves you.

He just doesn’t know if forever will allow him.