#i want to hurt someone. possibly myself. but i did this since middle school and look where the fuck it got me.

[curious-sootball]

You know... now I understand why a fucked up mother is such a popular archetype in queer stories.

[drowsynyuu]

CLOSET SHENANIGANS ミ★ s. gojo HALLOWEEN SPECIAL

NSFW BELOW~ jjk masterlist!!

cw: fem reader, alcohol consumption, closet sex, sorta enemies to lovers, teasing, pet names (princess, pretty girl, baby), sorta dubcon turned full on consent

a/n: it’s a little late but here it is— nyu’s halloween special! :3 end is kinda trash but this is like a week late so cut me some slack please 🙏🏼

- - - - -

despite the fact that you and everyone else in the room was in college, you still found yourself joining in on a game of truth or dare as if you were in middle school again. mostly everyone was either drunk or just a little tipsy. you didn’t know why you went to this party.. your friend begged to match costumes with you, and even bribed you with your favorite snack.

one of the partygoers grinned as their turn arrived as they met eyes. “truth or dare?” they asked as they took a sip from the bottle of who-knows-what.

you sat back a little, taking a moment to think. “uhm.. dare i guess?” you said, a bad feeling settling in your stomach the moment you saw their grin widen.

“i dare you to take the person you dislike the most to the closet down the hall, and if you want to pass this up, you also have the option to drink a mixture of my choosing.” the person said with a cheesy smile.

you bit your lip as your eyes immediately went to gojo, someone who’s been bugging you since middle school. you sighed as you thought this over. would you rather go in a small closet with the guy who you’ve always found annoying?.. or drink something potentially toxic. as much as you were tempted to choose the second option, part of you also didn’t want to be even more sick than you were already going to be tomorrow. you got up, fixing the skirt of your dress before approaching gojo, holding out your hand for him to take.

he let out a little chuckle as he took your hand, standing up as you helped him up. everyone watched as you dragged him to the closest, shutting the door behind you. you two could briefly hear hushed giggling before the sound of the lock clicking. your eyes widen in anger before you hit the door. “did you just lock us in here?!”

you could hear the person giggling. “i didn’t say for how long!~” they said in a singsong voice before you could hear them running off.

gojo found the string for the light as you let out a sigh, leaning on the wall.

“you know— for someone dressed as an angel, you’re definitely not acting like one.” he teased as he eyed you. “i thought your little friend was supposed to be the one dressed as a devil?” he said with a grin.

“shut up, gojo.” you muttered as you shot a glare at him. he acted like he was hurt, a little smirk on his face after.

“you’re so mean! i don’t know what i possibly did to you!” he said dramatically, a soft sigh leaving his lips as he leaned on the opposite wall.

“you exist.” you said as you crossed your arms.

gojo fake pouted, approaching you as he leaned close, his arm resting on the wall being the only thing keeping him away from you. “come on, princess.. we both know that you don’t actually hate me.” he teased. part of you wanted to immediately shut him down and say that you did, but you found yourself hesitating. gojo smirked and raised an eyebrow as he saw you hesitate. “wanna know something?” he asked as he moved his free hand to rest on your waist.

“w..what.” you spoke, your voice failing you as you felt heat creep onto your cheeks, looking into his eyes.

“around high school.. i had a little crush on you.” he spoke softly, smiling as he saw the slight surprise in your expression. you quickly brushed off the expression, glaring at him.

“yeah? sure didn’t seem like it. from what i remember, you were always taking random girls home with you.” you crossed your arms.

gojo chuckled, moving closer as he lifted your chin, making you meet eyes with him. “i was trying to convince myself to not like a girl who most definitely didn’t like me..” he said as his hand on your waist pulled your body closer.

“and did it work?” you asked, part of you curious if he still had these feelings for you.

gojo grinned. “most definitely not.. you take up my mind completely..” he said softly.

“yeah right..” you muttered breathlessly, your heart basically pounding in your chest. you watched as his hand moved down to your chest, pressing his palm on it.

“i can feel that, princess.. your heart’s pounding like crazy. why’s that?” he raised an eyebrow as his hand moved to join his other hand on your waist.

your breath hitched slightly as you found your hands resting on his chest, trying to figure out mentally if you wanted to push him away or pull him closer.

“s-shut up.. idiot..” you muttered softly as you noticed him leaning closer. gojo chuckled at your words, noticing the way you unconsciously leaned closer to him.

gojo gently caressed your cheek. “you better stop me now if you don’t want this..” he muttered, looking in your eyes with a serious expression. when he saw the way you only looked at him shyly, he smirked a little before closing the space between you two, his lips meeting yours in a hungry kiss.

his hands pulled your body against his when he felt you kiss him back, and it wasn’t long before he lightly tapped your thigh, a little chuckle leaving his lips as you let him pick you up, pressing you against the wall as your legs wrapped around his waist.

you clung to him as he broke the kiss, pressing soft kisses to your neck. you lifted your head and closed your eyes, soft sighs leaving your lips as he hungrily kissed your neck. you bit your lip as you felt his bulge pressed against you.

you rolled your eyes as your moment was suddenly interrupted. “do you guys wanna come back out now?” you heard someone ask.

before gojo could speak, you cut him off. “no, fuck off!” you yelled out, making gojo wince slightly from how loud you screamed. he was quick to laugh as he continued kissing your neck.

“that’s something i like about you.. how you always manage to make everything know exactly what you want..” he muttered softly as he slowly tugged up your skirt, holding you against the wall as he sneaked his hand down your underwear. “you’re demanding.. in a sexy way.. makes me know that you won’t be afraid to tell me what you think and feel..” he says as his fingers slide between your folds, smirking a little when he felt how wet you were.

“shut up satoru and just fuck me..” you whined a little.

gojo raised an eyebrow as he chuckled, kissing your jawline. he found it insanely cute how you didn’t even realize you called him by his first name. “alright, princess.. i’ll make you feel good.” he teased as he held you up with one arm, his free hand taking off his belt before tugging his pants and underwear down a little.

when he was finally inside you, you let out a slight gasp. you wrapped your legs around his waist, clinging to him as your breath hitched when he was fully inside.

“that’s my pretty girl..” he muttered softly as he kissed you to distract you from the pain. it had been a couple months since you had last been intimate but it didn’t help that there wasn’t much foreplay, but gojo was wanting to give you what you wanted.. and you wanted him to fuck you.

he gave you a moment to adjust, slowly thrusting his hips that way your cunt could get used to his size. it took a bit, but you buried your face in his chest as it started to feel heavenly. “y-you can go faster..” you said breathlessly, your face heating up as you felt him slightly grip your thighs as he picked up the pace a little.

gojo listened to your sweet moans, even letting out a few of his own. he was determined to make you feel so good you’d come back for more. he wanted you more than anything.

“tell me what you like, baby.. wanna make you feel amazing..” he moaned softly in your ear, breathless as he felt your pussy squeezing and fluttering on his cock. as much as he wanted to just test things out to see and feel your reactions and find out what you liked and didn’t like, part of him knew better and decided to just ask.

“y-you’re doing good..” you say softly, almost chuckling when you saw his eyes light up. he pulled you close and kissed you, your lips eagerly meeting his as he reached down to play with your clit. you whined in the kiss from the stimulation before you pulled away. “faster.. please—” you begged.

“anything for you..” he muttered sweetly before kissing your neck as he thrusted faster, listening to all the sweet moans that fell from your lips.

all everyone outside could hear was aggressive banging and moans from the closet after a while, especially since neither of you cared to really hide what you were doing. yes it was payback for being put in the closet, but it was also just that good.

after about twenty minutes, the two of you came out of the closet, panting and clothes disheveled.

“we’re going for the night. see you!” gojo said with a grin as he placed his hand on your hip, and the two of you left the party early.

[aspd-culture]

aspd and adhd(/possible autism) culture is realizing only once you're out of high school "ohhhhhhh wait, so i thought i wasn't abused growing up, but actually i was and it only stopped due to covid, and that resulted in my osdd system and aspd?"

buckle up, this is Long and definitely classifies as a Vent. honestly, you can ignore the middle section and jump to the next blank line of space if you want.

jesus christ. i was punished more harshly than my peers, i struggled to make friends, i was put into a little school program where board games were used to reinforce good behavior in problem kids which i only realized two months ago, my memory issues (which were always there, but only noticed in fifth grade) got me into so much shit with every authority figure ever, i broke a window using one of those mechanical hamster things that were popular at the time by accident but i didn't care at all, that's just scratching the surface

memories of things have been coming back to me lately. according to my mom i was such a nice little kid, always shared and was polite and highly empathetic, all the goods.

school came along, flipped everything on its head. i remember harassing and hurting animals, and people, and sometimes telling those people not to tell—not because i felt bad but because i didn't want to get into trouble again, it was an inconvenience. my home life was pretty good but other kids left me out of things a lot and sometimes called me names, even the neighbors' kids i liked to hang out with would make me the monster of their games and that does something to a kid (one of them is also the reason i'm a victim of cocsa). when i did something wrong or bad there was only punishment because i "should know not to do that" and so i had to teach myself how to be a functioning and good member of society. i got good at lying towards the end of third grade, the skill got better from there with every punishment i faced

when a former friend told me "hey, you have aspd traits/might have aspd" i went and found the checklist, because thorough research is how i work, went through it. at the time i didn't think it fit very well because "yes, i experience that but that's pretty normal for people, i learned how to manage it under several layers of creating a socially acceptable person just like everyone else"

i've gone back to it a couple times since and wow, surprise surprise, everything applies! the "this doesn't apply to me because i have a system to help with this thing" mindset means the thing still applies! there's some stuff, namely the destruction and truancy, that i didn't do but that's solely because i knew i couldn't get away with it and therefore didn't bother trying. so thanks to aaaaaaall that stuff and more, i definitely grew up with both conduct disorder and odd, and now it's aspd

i can't say i'm mad about having aspd? it causes problems in my life, yes, but i've spent so long wrangling myself into a form small enough to fit into society's box that it's not the worst thing anymore. i think i'm more mad at society, my peers, for not helping me with this and being kind where they should've, especially my mom as of recently

that said: it is fucking hard-wired into me that there's only good people and bad people in the world. harmful behavior towards me (or someone else doing something i can't forgive) is automatically met with hammurabi's eye for an eye. the coping mechanisms i use work very well, are generally healthy, and people who don't do anything to calm themselves down and think rationally tend to piss me off. i have been fighting those things for a while but they're the ones that simply won't go away. hamburger help me.

aspd-culture-is

There's a lot of good information in this ask. Too many people see ASPD as a direct result of physical abuse or CSA/SA, when a lot of ASPD symptoms really develop around things that are seen as smaller issues, where a child's problems get diminished by the people who are supposed to help that child to the point where they feel the only person that will help them is themself.

More than anything else, I personally think a very quick and simple way to decrease the number of people who end up with ASPD would be to get parents and other caregiving adults, and honestly society as a whole, to understand that regardless of how simple, silly, or insignificant it may seem to someone older, these "silly" things are often the worst thing the child has experienced up until that point. Someone always having to be the monster sounds like nothing to an adult, leading to no response to help besides maybe "they're just teasing you, ignore them". But "just teasing" is the most social rejection a child has experienced to that point, and so it is extremely distressing and emotionally painful. It feels like the most isolated they could possibly be, because they haven't been around long enough to experience worse. Then, the child is told to ignore it, which not only fails to make them feel better, but often causes it to get even worse as the other kids try and push harder to get the reaction they're looking for. Do they eventually give up? Sometimes. But the lengths and extremes many bullies will go to when "just teasing" doesn't elicit a response is disturbing and that fact is either unknown to or ignored by adults.

Part of why always being made the monster does something to a kid is that it is treated as a non-issue. When that is what a developing brain learns is the reaction to their pain, they will no longer seek outside help when things become extreme.

TW: descriptions of SA/r threats. Skip the following paragraph and move to the next one to avoid. Also a bit of a vent.

When I was in school, I was teased. I was made the dog who was not allowed to talk or a person with their vocal chords removed any time we played pretend. Sometimes they made me a rock or stick on the ground, even. It sounds like nothing, and when I was told it would go away if I ignored them, I listened. It didn't stop them. It led to an entire set of multiple schools that were combined into one building seeing me as a verbal and sometimes physical plaything; a place to take out your angst and distress. I lost my personhood in their eyes, so my understanding of social interactions were tainted and colored by the way my peers treated me. I told anyone who tried to befriend me not to be seen talking to me, to bully me publicly so they wouldn't get the treatment I got, so even the few people who tried to be kind got a skewed, unnatural social interaction with me. Many listened, and I don't hold that against them at all. That's simply what they had to do to make it. It got to the point of receiving verbal and *detailed, written-out, and signed* r word threats, and boys who were 11 years old talking about kidnapping tying me up in their parents attic and using me whenever they wanted (theirs was more detailed). Some even attempted to touch me, and adults nearby ignored it because "X likes to handle it themselves, they don't like when adults get involved", because I learned that they would only vaguely say stop, and it would get worse. That's what happens when you just ignore it.

And what do we call a person who learns that only they can protect themselves, and who doesn't understand any positive interaction with anyone that isn't transactional? Antisocial. I hate the idea what a positive relationship with family is incompatible with ASPD, sorry about the rant. Because of how ASPD develops, I refuse to dislike or resent myself or my symptoms when it comes to ASPD. If people didn't want me like this, they shouldn't have treated me like this.

Plain text below the cut:

There's a lot of good information in this ask. Too many people see ASPD as a direct result of physical abuse or CSA/SA, when a lot of ASPD symptoms really develop around things that are seen as smaller issues, where a child's problems get diminished by the people who are supposed to help that child to the point where they feel the only person that will help them is themself.

More than anything else, I personally think a very quick and simple way to decrease the number of people who end up with ASPD would be to get parents and other caregiving adults, and honestly society as a whole, to understand that regardless of how simple, silly, or insignificant it may seem to someone older, these "silly" things are often the worst thing the child has experienced up until that point. Someone always having to be the monster sounds like nothing to an adult, leading to no response to help besides maybe "they're just teasing you, ignore them". But "just teasing" is the most social rejection a child has experienced to that point, and so it is extremely distressing and emotionally painful. It feels like the most isolated they could possibly be, because they haven't been around long enough to experience worse. Then, the child is told to ignore it, which not only fails to make them feel better, but often causes it to get even worse as the other kids try and push harder to get the reaction they're looking for. Do they eventually give up? Sometimes. But the lengths and extremes many bullies will go to when "just teasing" doesn't elicit a response is disturbing and that fact is either unknown to or ignored by adults.

Part of why always being made the monster does something to a kid is that it is treated as a non-issue. When that is what a developing brain learns is the reaction to their pain, they will no longer seek outside help when things become extreme.

TW: descriptions of SA/r threats. Skip the following paragraph and move to the next one to avoid. Also a bit of a vent.

When I was in school, I was teased. I was made the dog who was not allowed to talk or a person with their vocal chords removed any time we played pretend. Sometimes they made me a rock or stick on the ground, even. It sounds like nothing, and when I was told it would go away if I ignored them, I listened. It didn't stop them. It led to an entire set of multiple schools that were combined into one building seeing me as a verbal and sometimes physical plaything; a place to take out your angst and distress. I lost my personhood in their eyes, so my understanding of social interactions were tainted and colored by the way my peers treated me. I told anyone who tried to befriend me not to be seen talking to me, to bully me publicly so they wouldn't get the treatment I got, so even the few people who tried to be kind got a skewed, unnatural social interaction with me. Many listened, and I don't hold that against them at all. That's simply what they had to do to make it. It got to the point of receiving verbal and *detailed, written-out, and signed* r word threats, and boys who were 11 years old talking about kidnapping tying me up in their parents attic and using me whenever they wanted (theirs was more detailed). Some even attempted to touch me, and adults nearby ignored it because "X likes to handle it themselves, they don't like when adults get involved", because I learned that they would only vaguely say stop, and it would get worse. That's what happens when you just ignore it.

And what do we call a person who learns that only they can protect themselves, and who doesn't understand any positive interaction with anyone that isn't transactional? Antisocial. I hate the idea what a positive relationship with family is incompatible with ASPD, sorry about the rant. Because of how ASPD develops, I refuse to dislike or resent myself or my symptoms when it comes to ASPD. If people didn't want me like this, they shouldn't have treated me like this.

[centralperkchenford]

Not sure if you're still taking chenford prompts but if you are: "when you get hurt, you're supposed to call your boyfriend/fiance/husband!"

Chenford + You are suppose to call me when you get hurt!

(when you get hurt, you're supposed to call your boyfriend/fiancé/husband!")

And you know for me, it’s always you.

The first thing Lucy thinks when she comes to is please don’t call Tim. Why that’s her first thought she can’t really explain at the moment. Aaron who is standing over her looks green in the face and she laughs a little because she knows he thinks Tim is going to kill him, which to be fair is not far from the truth.

Lucy and Aaron had rolled up on a college party, frat boys taking their last day of school a little too far. Lucy and Aaron had both gotten in the middle of a fight and Lucy had been knocked on the ground. She had blacked out only for a few minutes, but her head at the moment was pounding and her wrist hurt. The party had dispersed so that was a win.

“Aaron relax.” She says reaching over to touch his arm but wincing when she moves her wrist the wrong way. She notices the way Aaron clocks her moments and his face if possible turns greener. “Tim is not going to kill you. He knows I can take care of myself.”

Aaron opens his mouth to speak probably to argue with her, that it doesn’t matter that Tim even knowing Lucy absolutely could handle herself he would still go to war for her. Lucy loves this about Tim because she would do the same for him. They have been saving each other since practically day 1 when he got shot.

Lucy just shakes her head at her friend. “Did you call the ambulance?” Aaron looks at her like she’s crazy and mutters of course I did.

“That’s fine but don’t call Tim.” Aaron gives her an incredulous look.

“Lucy there is no way I could keep this away from Tim. He’s going to find out anyway.”

“I know but I’m fine.” And she was fine other than her pounding head and her sore wrist. She probably would go to the hospital get checked out to make sure she didn’t have a concussion and then get sent home. She could deal with Tim later. She didn’t want him going all Tim Bradford on Aaron.

“You should be thanking me.” She tells Aaron. “You know how he will react.” And even though her earlier statement stands true, Tim wouldn’t kill Aaron. It didn’t mean he wouldn’t give him the death glare.

Aaron pinches his nose as if this is the last thing he wants to do. She knows him well enough though that he will respect her wishes and and not call Tim.. yet.

She knows she can’t keep this from Tim forever. But him not knowing for a little bit won’t hurt him. She still feels a little guilty though as they load her up. It’s not that she doesn’t want Tim to be with her. She absolutely does. She always wants him by her side. She just knows how he gets, he gets protective and worried and angry. If she gets hurt, he would want to hurt whoever hurt her. So for right now because she was fine, not telling Tim is probably for the best.

Tim phone rings while he’s in the middle of paperwork. He barely glances as he answers.

“Hello?” He barks and he probably should be careful but he’s busy and he doesn’t like to be interrupted. He only minds being interrupted if it’s about someone important. And that list is very small. Lucy and Genny.

“Sergeant Bradford?” Aaron’s voice sounds over the line and Tim sits up straighter. He knows Lucy is riding with Aaron today and the only reason he would be calling is if something happened to Lucy.

“Thorsen what’s wrong?” He barks again this time it’s more urgent.

“Sir. There was a bit of a fight at a frat house and we got in the middle of it. Lucy blacked out for a minute and hurt her wrist. She didn’t want me to call you—”

“Where are you?” He asks and he’s already standing and grabbing his stuff.

“Shaw Memorial sir but listen she’s going to—”

“I’m on my way.” Tim says shakily and then he hangs up without saying bye.

His only thought is Lucy as he basically runs out to his truck ignoring the looks from the other officers.

He knows he’s protective and he gets a little irrational when it comes to Lucy. But it’s Lucy, his girlfriend, the love of his life,his future. If she gets hurt he’s in an instant panic.

He gets to the hospital in record time, he calms his breathing as he pulls into a parking spot. He rushes into the emergency room where he knows Lucy will be and looks around frantically.

“Sergeant Bradford?” Aaron is standing in front of him looking a little banged up but otherwise fine.

“Where is she?” He practically growls at the younger officer.

Aaron points to a bed and Tim breathes a sigh of relief when he spots Lucy sitting up and looking annoyed.

He hurries towards her and she turns at his footsteps.

“Aaron!” She whispers angrily. He watches as Aaron moves away from their line of sight, he’s not sure who Aaron is more scared of Tim or Lucy.

Tim just shakes his head and sits down next to her. “Why didn’t you call me baby?” He asks softly.

“I didn’t want to worry you. I’m fine. My wrist is sprained and I have a mild concussion. But I’m fine.”

Tim stares at her in disbelief because a mild concussion isn’t his definition of being fine.

“Lucy.” He reaches over to cup her face and he turns so he’s facing her. “Baby. I want to be called even if it’s something minor. I know you can take care of yourself but I love you and I want to be called and I want to be by your side no matter what. Okay?”

Lucy stares at him as if he hung the moon. He knows that look because he always looks at her like she’s hung the moon and the stars.

“Okay.” She whispers. “Okay Tim. I’ll call you next time.”

He moves closer being careful of her hurt wrist and knowing her head is probably pounding.

“Are you really okay?”

She nods slowly. “I’ve had worse Tim. It was just a bunch of drunk frat boys.”

Tim huffs out a laugh and kisses the top of her head. “I bet they took the brunt of it.”

Lucy laughs and curls more into his side and he feels her relax into him.

“Oh they definitely did.”

“See Lucy I did make the right call.” Aaron comes back into view looking a little too smug for Tim’s liking.

“I’ll deal with you later.” They both say to him and he backs away quickly raising his hands in the air.

Tim laughs as he retreats and then turns to Lucy.

“I’m glad you’re okay.”

Lucy just hums in agreement and curls into his side more.

It wasn’t perfect and it was chaotic but Tim would take it over anything else because he has Lucy by his side.

[suffersinfandom]

gifset by seraph-novak

So there’s a critique of this scene (and Ed in season two as a whole) that I haven’t been able to shake. The post went into how the whole mermaid sequence was ruined by the rest of the season -- about how this beautiful scene was, put in the context of Ed’s behavior in the rest of season two, an ominous rebirth of a villain. The writer couldn’t see Ed as a protagonist finding the will to live; they saw a monster getting another chance to terrorize his victims.

I really hate that. I’ve already typed way too much about how I don’t think that Ed is abusive or that the Kraken Era was all that bad, so of course I disagree with any take that characterizes Ed as a monster. But do you know why this post stuck with me?

It made me unreasonably sad.

There’s a danger in over-identifying with characters (and I do think that a lot of the tension in OFMD fandom comes from over-identification), but it’s so easy for me to understand what Ed’s going through in the first three episodes of season two. I’ve been there. Judging by this post, many of us have been where Ed is. 

We’ve struggled to live while we’re drowning. We’ve been trapped and hopeless and desperate for a reason to keep going -- for someone to give us hope that things can be better. 

And we’ve also hurt people in our despair. 

When I was in my Kraken Era, I was a sick college student who’d been fighting depression since middle school. I’d just escaped a “friendship” with someone who (I can admit in retrospect) abused me mentally and emotionally, and I had no other friends because that person had effectively isolated me. I was alone and I was convinced that I was a fundamentally unlovable person who had no right to exist. 

I pushed the few people I had around me away. I isolated myself from my mother as much as I could while living in her house. I cut off communication with my online acquaintances (who would later become good friends) and didn’t speak to anyone at school. For a while, I was so focused on my pain and self hatred that I barely thought about other people. It was an intensely selfish and self-centered existence, and I hurt my mom and everyone who could’ve been a friend. When you're in that desperately hopeless, depressed mindset, you don't care about hurting people because your own pain is so all-consuming. If anything, you want to hurt others so they'll give up on you in the same way you've given up on yourself.

It’s different from what Ed did, of course, because he’s not me and I wasn’t a pirate captain with the lives of a crew in my hands. The harm I could cause was severely limited by my lack of power, but I still caused it. I was still trying to isolate and cut ties and push away anyone who could’ve helped me even when I desperately wanted help. I wasn’t a good person.

Watching Ed go through a self-destructive arc that’s immediately identifiable, deeply personal, and so well done was incredible, and seeing the show support him instead of demonizing his behavior? I have no words for the way I felt during season two’s run. 

OFMD makes Ed a sympathetic character who’s worth loving even when he’s at his lowest. It gives us a lead who fucks up when he’s in the depths of his despair and it doesn’t pity him or wave away his problems or make a monster out of him. It doesn’t even have his romantic interest save him! Instead, it lets Ed save himself when he realizes that there’s still hope and love out there. 

This show reminded me that we’re not monsters even if we’ve hurt people. It told me that recovery is possible, and so is forgiveness. It asked me to keep loving Ed through his entire arc, and in doing that, it forced me to love the parts of me that I’m still working on as well.

So I know that I shouldn’t be bothered by people who see season two Ed as an irredeemable monster who gets an undeserved second shot at life, y’know? But even though I’m a decade and a half out of my own Kraken Era, I’m still in a perpetual state of recovery. There’s always a persistent doubt -- a suspicion that there’s a fundamental flaw in me that no amount of therapy will fix -- and that doubt latched onto some random person’s conviction that Ed is a monster. It says, If Ed will always be a monster, what about you?

And I know that voice is wrong because it’s always been a liar. I know that it doesn’t matter that some portion of the fanbase turned on Ed in season two because that man isn’t real and he’s not me. I know that, for people who haven’t experienced something that was reflected in Ed’s arc, it might be difficult to sympathize with him (and with real life people who blow their lives up in their despair). 

There will always be people who don’t understand or can’t empathize with that kind of desperate hopelessness, but there are also many, many people who get it… and some of those people were clearly in season two's writer’s room. Some of those people are in this fandom.

I guess what I’m getting at is this: I hope that, if you saw yourself in Ed’s early season two story, you know that you’re not a monster and you’re not a villain in someone else’s story, no matter what anyone else says. I hope you know that you’re worthy of love. 

I hope you know you’re not alone.

[its-chili]

Mold

I read a strange book once in elementary school about a girl and her cat. Something about ghosts or shadows and a curse I don't particularly remember the name or nature of. I only got about halfway, as those sorts of things tended to freak me out, and I would have rather read I Spy or Ripley's Believe It or Not. But, for some reason or another, I have never been able to get the setting of that book out of my head. It took place in a house that wasn't hers- or at least a house she hadn't lived in for her conscious years. I remember how it was described as this massive organism whose cells and organelles consisted of hallways and bed bugs. How living in its bricked walls was to invoke the experience of being digested, and with every passing day, parts of you would congeal into the furnish. Your flesh would start to peel, needing another coating, while your bones would creak and cry out for oil. I remember the terror that the book instilled in me. 

I don't know when I left or how I got there, but I wake to find myself in front of a house, simultaneously my own and someone else's. 

There is an infinite expanse of blotchy gray-green in every direction, only varying in size but never shape. A skeleton of a picket fence, overgrown with weeds and vines, the only thing separating me from the great beast of brick and mortar. I turn my head to look behind me, expecting to see a road of some sort, but nothing. Nothing but Daisy, my old truck, and her faded mustard skin and bulging blue headlights. I don't remember driving. Where are my keys? I dig a hand into my pocket, rustling around only to pull out some cotton knots and… I want to leave, but Daisy smiles, encouraging me forward. I don't think she knows where to go, either. Or if she is even capable of leaving. Last time I checked, she was on empty, and her left back tire was about to burst like a rubbery piñata 

I turn again. The house remains. Motionless. The exterior has been painted cream. Or white. Or something of the like that maybe once looked pristine and shiny and new but has long since lost its luster. I try to remember a time when it looked shiny and new. It has always looked this way. It has never looked this way.

Despite myself, my feet begin trudging forward, carrying me like an unwilling passenger forced upon a train headed for what could only be certain doom. I feel the strain of weeds tangles against my boots. It feels like ripping sinews. 

The journey takes hours. I appear at the steps in minutes. Where did the railing go? 

Flashes of my grandmother shoot through me. She smiles as she holds out a tray of apple juice and chocolate chip cookies fresh out of the oven. Then she frowns as the tray hits the ground. She's staring at me. Her ankle doesn't look right. 

There is supposed to be a railing. 

I go to open the door- but there isn't a handle. Where did the knob go? Did someone steal it? Who in their right mind would steal a doorknob? Does it have that much value? Or was it the only shiny thing left, and whoever stole it figured that that was the only thing that could possibly give them anything worth the trouble. The urge to run suddenly spikes through my chest. I turn again. Daisy is gone. Everything is gone. It's just the infinite sea of blotchy gray-green.

I hear a creak behind me. The door is open. 

I can't move. Everything in me screams. I want to laugh. I do laugh. I laugh so hard my sides hurt, and tears start to form in my eyes, and I have to bend over and hold onto the railing that isn't there to steady myself. 

I bring a sleeve to my face to wipe away the tears and the blurred lens of my reality, and I almost relish in the salty sensation of the tiny droplets that manage to sneak their way onto my tongue. I relish the soft fabric of my sweater. I don't remember if I have washed this. Do I need to wash this? I smile as I bring my arm back down, only to find myself standing in the middle of my kitchen.

A table carved with indentions and scuff marks sits illuminated by a single golden orb. I can't see past the head of the table. I can picture my father's beaming smile, slightly shaded by a tangle of salt and pepper strands of scruff. I hear my mother's voice whisper a wordless prayer. It resonates with me. I sit at the end. A plate is in front of me, but I don't know what's on it. Mashed potatoes? Squashed Eggplant? Whatever goes into the cafeteria food I had to consume in college so I wouldn't starve? My fingers grip a knife I didn't realize I was holding. The mass does not make a squelching sound. It does not vibrate slightly like rotting jello. It does not stare up at me with one giant, congested, verdant eye whose veins pulsate to the rhythm of my racing heart… It does not roll back to gaze at the other end of the table. It does not focus on the figure at the other end of the table.

At one point in my life, I think in my junior year, my family and I had to temporarily move out of our house because we had discovered a patch of black mold behind my parents' bed. The cleaners knocked out the wall, prepared to place the plagued patches in the trash, and called it a day. The wall came down. 

The bones and organs of my entire house were black.

During that time, my mom had been designing the interior for my uncle's townhome, and thankfully, he let us crash there until the mold was dealt with. My mom's immune system could be compared to a wet Kleenex, as almost every food category was in the danger zone, and she couldn't get nutrients and immune support from just salads and chicken broth alone. I spent that entire summer in that tiny house–having to drive back and forth 30 minutes from there to my job back home to back again to my friend's houses to my grandparents to back- The gas prices always seemed to rise every time I pressed on the pedal. We were given the all-clear at the beginning of August and promptly huddled back into the hovel we had carved in the shape of ourselves…. 

Two years later, my mom started coughing while we watched Sound of Music in her bed. She got sick…very sick. She was ill to a point where fish lips chewed on her eyes, and blue worms wiggled beneath her taut skin. I remember the crystal snake that curled around her arm and off the bed, feeding back into a plastic bag hanging ever halfway empty beside her. I remember the drip. Drip. Drip of it. I was a floor above them, but I could still hear it underneath my covers. I swear I could see the tube sometimes slithering beneath my bed. 

And then, one spring, the drip just… stopped. 

It was sunny outside. 73 degrees. No chance of rain. 

We tore down my parents' room a few months later…and faced a black hole of spores as the wall came down. 

My eyes focus once more, or at least as focused as they can get with the dim lighting. I stare at the "not mashed potatoes" before me. I want to look at the other end of the table. I need to look at the other end. But my body refuses; there's an anvil pressing in my throat, forcing down every syllable and scream and panicked breath, and my hands are clamming up like they've turned into a kid's bad science project. I feel the neurons firing; I can picture myself craning my neck as if my head didn't feel like a sloppily attached bowling ball. But nothing. I am utterly paralyzed. 

The sound of wood scraping against wood echoes in my ears as the shadows shift just out of sight, dancing at the edges of my vision. The floor creaks. Closer. And Closer. Uncomprehendingly heavy and light all at once. And from the darkness, a fragment of a long, wiry appendage slowly begins to-

[sickacademia]

my experience with learning as an adhd person

it's kinda difficult to point out where things started going wrong. I was always the best student in class since ever. And I grew up and one day I remember going into a neurologist and he would ask me some stuff and I wouldn't know how to process and answer his questions. He would talk about parallel lines and I had no idea what a parallel line was. It didn't bother me after some time because I eventually forgot i, but when I remember this moment i cant help from thinking "well, why did mom made me go there? is there something wrong with me, have they noticed something?", and every single time i try to approach her she says she doesnt remember anything about it - neither results from the exams i had to do nor what was the doctors feedback.

a few years ago i found out that my father has adhd, diagnosed since childhood. those who are familiar with the topic will probably understand that what im saying is that im very likely to have it too.

what happened in my teenage years is that the more things started to demand me more and more academically and socially, the more i would simply not be interested, or just fail because i couldnt pay attention. I'm someone who never had any difficulties at learning anything at all, but if i didnt like the topic, God, i would NOT study it. thats why i started failing classes in middle school.

nowadays it's easier to understand these things, but not really solve them.

what i really want to point out is the fact that i hyperfixate in stuff. and then i get very really passionate about it. i'll study it for a few weeks and decide it's what i want to do with my life. and then the hyperfixation goes away. and i'm left with nothing.

i lack consistency, and i think it has something to do with me being bipolar as well. i am mentally stable at the moment, but i still cant keep studying things i like once im not that interested/they get too hard.

sometimes i wonder what is wrong with me, and how that very little smart kid became a shameful adult with the lowest self esteem possible.

it hurts to see myself downgrading that bad as the years pass, for i was always taught to be the best in every field i want to be in. the problem is they never teach us how to study, they never teach us how to rest. they never teach us how to be ourselves without wanting to fit in academic standards. we don't know how to do stuff because the world is not made for people who are "not productive".

[harvest2036]

Like I pretty much set myself up to get screwed for deliberately choosing the fakest friends. Since I was in literal preschool I adapted to bullying by just trying harder and fawning and being too lenient with people who casually mistreated me... then into middle school I already had lone wolf/codependent on people who never gave a shit about me mentality LIKE. I loved them as hard as I could whenever possible but it was still nothing compared to the amount of love and trust I had way back before I even met them or the fake friends before them and even before them. And before, before... My trust is so shattered and beauty is a monster to me. I give so willingly still in hopes that I find a friendship that communicates openly and honestly. I never looked for anything better than what I had until I was freed and I'm scared to try again because I've been let down so many times. I'm scared to lose who I have left but if they're going to they're probably bored and will leave soon especially because I'm so out of energy and can't spend my money on them. I spend an unreal amount of time feeling the way my childhood self felt when I never made a friend before and I was just in love with life. Yeah I've met strangers and spent years around them, maybe saw them every day but I might as well just glanced at them walking down the street. I'm ready to commit to the people I didn't when all my time and energy was taken up completely wasting it on those who just used me........ some huge liars they were. They promised they were my family and had me thinking I was ride or die. I was hoping I would have someone to return everything I put into the relationship eventually or at least someone to ask if I was ok if I went MIA but they just made up a bunch of stuff and tried to ruin my life. I was caring for my dying grandpa when Lane left my group chat and started speaking negatively about the whole group so like I could have really used a break from the bullshit then but that's basically when my last fallout started. I have no idea why still. Then Annie dropped her autism mask and her real self was actually just based on being a mean girl so I dodged a huge bullet by not having to deal with that ever again. I've never looked at their blogs since but they've harassed me countless times and it speaks volumes about the people I don't want to be associated with whatsoever. If you're still stalking me I hope you see me exist and remind yourself that you hurt someone that did nothing to you and feel bad unless you really are monsters.

[ralucasalmostgone]

I see you guys got obsessed with the word "life"

ugh, you have no clue how ubiquitous it is!

(see 'Life or something like it')

but I mean, I think you want a story with Marky Mark over there, dontcha?

well, I have told you a few stories so I guess this type couldn't hurt:

---

So I was talking to this friend in the labs about various things and then the conversation steered this way, to this marking thing the lecturers have got going on: that it's usually random but what can you expect from such a low tier University, right? It can't be helped that they can't possibly be bothered to get to know their students unless they're pretty - so they can use them on the prospectus.

And really how you need to understand WHY I've been harassed from the beginning by said lecturers in almost every single type of module!

But I don't show up on camera cause I'm like a vampire that way, so that's another secret I had to keep to myself.

And I'm extremely perceptive and honestly, as an extremely perceptive type I really HATE attention seeking people and then I just ignore them cause I hate them and then if they ever learn that they'll try to change their behaviour BUT they'll still be the same attention-seeking people anyway! (so there's no point in announcing it to them!)

So then I just proceed to be all action, no words that way anyway!

(I'm not lying, the behaviour annoys me to the highest degree! - maybe cause it has nothing in common with my own psychology and there's nothing wrong with me as a Lord. Sycophantic behaviour is for people that I 'beat up' as a Lord that kiss my ass better to stop beating them up, from my own POV! That's all I see!

I don't see bravery and I definitely don't find it normal either!)

SO

Continuing from here, I have this friend and he's telling me about how Marky Mark ruined someone's last average thing like so: there's a girl doing a presentation for the final year thingy (maybe) or a Master's presentation - not sure, cause it was a long time ago - and she's presenting and the room is overjoyed by the time it ends! The other lecturer that's marking (an ubiased party for once) wants to give her a high mark no matter what! But Marky Mark has such a different opinion, it lowered the overall mark through the averaging of the two lecturers and their respective marks (like giving the girl a 90 from one of the lecturers and 60 from Marky Mark). So get it?

And my friend was like..."but that was completely unfair! it was the best project I've ever seen! how could he do that?"

What? Like be so vindictive?

And then, I consulted with my feeds about all the strange psychological disordered stuff I witnessed too from said lecturers...

I have to admit, I haven't been used to an OBJECTIVE teacher since middle school (the last ones were there). In high school, the Math teacher was already giving me high grades based on my Latin knowledge instead of Math, so it was clear to me that everyone's turning unusually subjective about the marking thing and if I were to ever rely on teachers I'd be doomed from the start, not being able to assess myself whatsoever!

So I already knew that the lecturers weren't the type of teachers I have anything to discuss with so I didn't!

And they were BIASED from the beginning: they'd give you high marks just cause (even if your project sucked) or give the team leader that kisses asses better all the high marks (80 instead of 60) or they'd give stupid people - in general - whatever they wanted as long as they kissed their asses better (and on social media too) or shouted long and hard enough!

This was no environment for me to be my full self (you know, the one that's prone to doing that reincarnated thing where turns out I'm Omniscient). But luckily or intentionally, I was prepared since high school!

So I gave them no thought! [to the lecturers and their biased marking system!]

I just did whatever I wanted though. As usual.

And they awarded dumb people that ended up working in construction or in the middle of nowhere - unlike me who rules the world!

So I really didn't care even then!

But I gotta say, the less I cared, the more Marky Mark's issues showed up:

He just knew for a fact I knew he existed but honestly...outside of the obvious emotional turmoil he seemed to be going through (that I was perceiving fairly clearly), no, I didn't! Sorry to say that!

And not only that, but my unsuspecting younger self already classified his disorder as Grandiose Narcissism.

What she didn't have access to as a form of knowledge was also the fact that you can give it to someone FROM THE FUTURE! (because of future errors and mistakes of future individuals)

And my feeds agree:

there are two versions of this one too (and they're similar to the female Bipolar version):

[emoverted]

stained motivation

Another day studying Japanese while listening to a senpai's podcast (I genuinely like it, I've been listening since the early days lol) and grew inspired for my writing. I decided to catch up on an older episode and boy was my intuition correct. The topic has also been on top of my mind lately. You can listen to the full episode here:

When you hear that someone is doing their doctoral degree in Oxford, the first few things that come to mind may be "smart," "ambitious," and many of those lovey-dovey adjectives. Though they might not be wrong, we often forget to consider the full picture. Kak Reybi Waren was no high-ranked student throughout high school. In fact, he deliberately failed classes, all because he couldn't accept that his parents couldn't buy him a motorcycle. A few years before, his mom had promised to get him one if he excelled academically. So he did in middle school but had his dreams crushed due to his parents' financial condition. Most inspirational stories would continue with "...and so he worked hard in school, gets a decent job, and finally gets the motorcycle he has always wanted." The difference in kak Waren's story shows what I see as a more humane continuation. He rebelled, intentionally doing bad in school to get back at his parents until he realized that he had hurt their feelings. This is what finally brought him to where he is now, Oxford. He changed his ways to make up for his mistakes toward his parents. But why do I say humane? Because I can relate to his story.

My closest are probably aware of this, but my stepping stone didn't arise from something oh-so gracious. I hurt my parents. Looking back almost 4 years since then, I still can't imagine that I had once put them in such a lowly situation amid their hectic responsibilities. What hurt most was instead of fully acknowledging it as a me-problem, they took in my misbehavior as their fault for raising me poorly. But again, without that experience, I wouldn't be where I am today. Their words pierce me to this day, and I know there's nothing I can do to make up for my wrongdoings back then, yet I still believe I can relieve their wounded months to some extent. Even to navigate it took some time. I initially thought punishing myself in any possible way I could do the job, but what kind of parent wants to see their child hurting, even if it's for their sake? Especially my parents who, Alhamdulillah, have always been so considerate of me. It was not until the pandemic that struck me with a life-changing and lifelong quest. Continuing from my previous writing, I initially shifted my persona with the help of online school. From the once unnoticed student now came an ambitious one. Again, I don't think this solves everything--this is not the end, and there will be no end. I have to swallow the hard pill that I am still in a huge debt to my parents, but I still have to find ways to ease it all, and I won't stop this far.

My motivation is stained and will forever be, but that's what makes it humane.

[xexiar]

Nothing like feeling extremely insecure about body parts and such to where you just want to get rid of everything and build yourself a new body. But not all that is possible.

If it was I would replace my skin for one that isn’t damaged by years of skin picking. Which is impossible. All I can do is take care of what I can’t change.

There’s also the immense insecurities that I have due to the “friends” I had around me. Especially when I felt uncomfortable and questioned if I was their friend or they were only being friendly because they wanted to sleep with me.

I’m not sure how or who I should speak to about these things, currently, because of how complex it is. Let alone the fact I’m not sure how to vocally explain to someone these uncomfortable feelings and thoughts without suddenly feeling so much shame and anger.

Like, as peaceful as I try to be, I’m always so angry. I am easily frustrated within seconds. And again, I try my hardest throughout my whole life to not fall into the same category of my “family”. I don’t want to be violent every time I’m angry. I don’t want to be lose myself to where I become an abuser. I had my aggressive tendencies in high school, typically playful and we were decent friends. But I think that came more from years of being bullied at school my whole life up until high school.

And whenever I tempted the waters of trying to figure myself out everyone around me gave such unclear answers. From family being confused, trying to be “supportive” but in the same breath still only saw me the way they wanted. Ex-friends who tried to convince me that wasn’t how I felt or was. An ex telling me to stop lying to myself. An ex/friend saying he’ll never speak to me if I meant it when I asked how he would react if I transitioned. An ex-friend trying to convince me that I was bi when I came out to him that I was never into guys.

It just all hurts. I’ve tried for so long to be everything everyone wanted and I failed at it. I failed at being a daughter, a girlfriend, just flat at failed at being a girl. And when I try to fight my internal shame and hatred to be true to who I am I lose people I thought who actually cared. Nothing like a sibling making jokes how they thought I said I wasn’t into guys but then saying how a guy was cute. Like did I suddenly lose my right to not comment on how ecstatically pleasing another person was? Then having another sibling tell me how I would always be a girl to them. A sibling commenting how our oldest sister was a tomboy at one point and grew out of it, and that’s probably what I was doing. It hurts to not be believed or seen as anything but what they want.

I don’t want to get rid of my chest and reproduce organs because of the trauma that my upbringing caused. I want to get rid of them to finally feel and see the body that fits me. I want to be me. I already had a strong emotional struggle when it came to changing my name, all because my dead biological mother gave me my name. I already struggled with the idea of doing anything to my body because it’s the body my mother gave me. But then I remembered our last in-person conversation about how she gave me up so I can a happy and healthy life. So me changing my name and changing my body will still have me honoring her wishes. She wanted me to be happy and healthy, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.

It’s why I kept my middle name the same, because that’s something we both shared. So in a way, I, on legal documentation, still have the name she gave me. And I like the fact that we share the exact same birthmarks on our arms. Plus, in my case removing my chest and reproductive organs is also a health preventative, since she died of cancer.

So it really doesn’t make sense to me when people hate those who transition. A lot of times it’s not just gender that is being treated but also, like in my case, it’s for physical health reasons. I may not know exactly what medical conditions mtf trans deal with, but I hope whatever it was I’m glad their transition improved their livelihood. In general, I’m very proud of those who transitioned, starting to transition, thinking about transitioning, and those who aren’t sure if they are or aren’t trans. It takes a lot to figure all this out. So I brings me joy to see those who transition before me share their experiences. It makes me feel less alone when I hear the experience of people currently transitioning. It makes me excited to hearing those who discovering themselves. I’m also speaking about those who aren’t trans in the sense of going from one gender to another, but I’m also speaking about those who identify as any gender identity that goes against their gender assigned at birth.

Cause even though I’m transitioning to male, I present as nonbinary and always will.

[signalwatch]

WB Animation Watch: Scooby-Doo and Krypto, Too! (2023) Watched:  01/02/2024 Format:  Max Viewing:  First Director:  Cecilia Aranovich It's not to say Scooby-Doo and Krypto, Too! (2023) is particularly good - it has issues.  But it was better than I figured, which is possibly damning with faint praise.  Look, I'm just not a huge fan of Scooby-Doo, which is hurtful to Scooby-Doo fans, but here we are.  But I do find myself checking out some Scoob from time-to-time as they do these guest-starring movies, like the recent one with Elvira.   As a DC Comics nut, it has a lot to love.  There's deep cut jokes exploiting a breadth of DC comics and animation history.  You'll maybe recognize bits from cartoons and movies, and you'll see items like Kandor.  Lex Luthor is a really funny supporting character here.  Not notes.  I laughed. Of course I'm a Krypto the Superdog fan, and he's in the movie, but he doesn't talk - which, look, Krypto hasn't had so much as thought-bubble in the comics since the 1970's.  But that's a bit limiting for a show with other talking dogs.  So it kinda sorta works, but.  Maybe a bit confusing?  Still, I'm just happy to see Krypto, so bonus points. As an animation fan, it has some challenges.  My Scooby-Doo was made in the 1960's - 1980's, by the cheapest animation house outside of Filmation, so this looks like Star Wars by comparison.  But my in-house Scooby-Doo expert has assured me that they've done better by Mystery, Inc. in recent years, so I'll just agree with that.  But for someone expecting Scooby-Doo, Where Are You? style art and maybe Challenge of the Superfriends, it's... fine.  Really, it looks like the art in DC's Scooby-Doo and Batman comics that I pick up once in a blue moon if Krypto or someone shows up.    There's some funny bits in the movie - there was a Velma's glasses bit that kills.  And I liked some of the gags about, like, the valet at the Hall of Justice.  But some of the old, worn out gags from Scooby-Doo are no fresher in 2024 than they were in 1984.  And there was no gag they couldn't stretch until you were like "I get it.  Enough." And that included the finale "fight" that went on what seemed as long as any DC superhero movie ending - ie: way past the point where it wore out its welcome.  Which may have been a gag unto itself.  And, of course, any DC fan worth their salt could telegraph the ending twist. I did have a couple of moments watching this cartoon that made me just sort of stare at DC over the past twenty years or so and want to ask "why do you make it so hard when this is so simple?"  Like, DC needs a Superfriends cartoon, or some version of the Justice League on Max or Cartoon Network, aimed at kids.  I know they have some marketing research that tells them "this is for people between 16 and 24", but that is *nonsense*.  They haven't even tried since I was in middle school.  And I'm old now.* And seeing all the villains piled on Metropolis, which is treated as a gag, also made me realize why I don't give a shit about most DC events in the comics.   They aren't just the straight up Legion of Doom vs. Justice League match-up that wouldn't just feel like some wank-fest that will be meaningless to most readers.   If they can make DC Comics work better in a Scooby-Doo cartoon - where the characters don't even really appear - than in most DC media, it may be time for a rethink. *say what you will, but the Justice League cartoon was airing at 7:00 at night.  That was not aimed at kids.  And they buried Justice League Action, which was great, at like 6:00 AM.  It was insane. https://ift.tt/gNLwxCV via The Signal Watch https://ift.tt/Ev8gqRn January 03, 2024 at 06:13PM

[cozbunny]

a piece about my journey with womanhood

I used to identify as trans. I was confused about my gender ever since elementary school, and I used to never feel feminine. I didn’t fit in with other girls in my grade, and I felt I got along more with the boys in class. I would look at the girls sitting together and gossiping about who’s dating who, talking about makeup, hair, and new clothes they’d gotten over the weekend, and I found it boring and dull. Then I’d look at the boys, who were swearing at each other,  roughhousing, and just being “boys”, and I’d get jealous of them. I always wished that I was one of the boys.

In middle school, I started playing with my gender identity and trying new names, pronouns, and labels, to see what would stick. It was an incredibly uncomfortable time. I was surrounded by friends who didn’t take me seriously at the time and thought that me changing my name and pronouns a lot was me faking being trans. It was incredibly hurtful when my friends would ignore me or say I was faking it all, because I knew my feelings were incredibly real. 

At the end of 7th grade, after playing with my identity for what felt like forever, I finally settled on identifying as nonbinary. That label was the only one that made sense to me at the time, and it felt validating to be able to put a name to what I was feeling. I continued to label myself that way all the way until 10th grade. 

During the summer between 10th and 11th grade, something in my identity shifted. I suddenly felt more “binary” than in previous years. I wanted to wear makeup, jewelry, and even dresses. For God’s sake, I wanted to wear dresses for the first time since I was four! I wanted to be just like the girls that bored me in elementary school. I wanted to be a girl for the first time in my entire life.

At first, I was embarrassed. How could I have been so wrong? I felt like an idiot. Then, I felt anxious. All of the friends I had made over the years were all part of the LGBT community, so how on earth was I supposed to tell them I want to de-transition? I felt like they’d make fun of me and stop wanting to be my friend. 

I attempted to suppress my feelings. I tried identifying as nonbinary but presenting as a girl, I tried to say I was nonbinary and a girl at the same time, I even cut my hair and tried to look as masculine as possible. All of it made me feel worse, and I was depressed. I hated myself and just wished I had the courage to actually be myself.

After a while, I admitted to my boyfriend that I wanted to de-transition. I felt ashamed, but he supported me wholeheartedly. I asked him to start calling me she/her pronouns and referring to me as his girlfriend, and when he did, it all made sense. I was a cis girl!

My boyfriend gave me the courage to begin de-transitioning. I was embarrassed at first, but with time I got more comfortable with it. My friends from before did make fun of me, and even came up with crazy theories as to why I changed so much, which I was fine with because I wasn’t friends with them anymore. And for good reason. 

It’s safe to say that I’m much happier fully embracing myself for who I am, instead of trying to appease other people, and being ashamed that I was wrong in the past. It’s okay to change, and those who tried to shame me for that were stuck in the past and weren’t worth my time. I’m glad I’m me now, and not someone people want me to be. 

[godsrejectedmartyr]

(2/2) it hurt to hear then too. in that moment i was sure he lost all feelings for me. at that point him and i didn’t really talk much anymore, but when we did our conversations were always so pleasant. i just remembered thinking to myself, if only he loved me still, then i would give him the world. if he still loved me, he wouldn’t have to worry about all of the hard things that come with life, i’d dedicate everything i had just for him. somehow the conversation went back to the topic of my plans. he was still opposed to it. but i told him that no matter the possible outcome that could come from the way i was tackling my life plans, i was never going to be happy. he told me that i didn’t know that for sure. and i knew maybe he was right, but like i said, when you’re that far out, nothing really matters. at that point, all i was going was drugs and drink alcohol, i would skip school just to get intoxicated. but after he told me that he had a crush on that girl i was so scared to lose him. i wanted him back. and i felt selfish, because i felt like i was just dragging him on when he could be happier with someone else. i made the most moves in that one conversation than i have ever done in my entire life. and i guess by the end of the conversation he kind of got the hint, because he offered the idea of us working through life together. and i guess i didn’t really know what he meant by that, but i liked the way it sounded, whether or not he meant being in a relationship. i didn’t want to lose him. he was shocked to hear that i accepted. of course he had no idea i liked him all that time, but if living meant i got to spend it with someone i’ve had unwavering feelings for in the past two years, the i wouldn’t mind living still i was 30. everything has been really nice since we started dating. even though life still sucks, it’s easier to chug through it because i still want to give him the best life i possibly could. everything i do is for him now, it’s not just for me anymore. and i love him a lot, i have feelings now when i’m with him that i didn’t know i could feel. but ofc it’s not easy to show that. like i said, my whole life i had no real example of what romance is like. i still try to show my love for him as much as i can, but it’s hard because it all sounds so corny, but it’s how i feel. and sometimes it’s still hard to 100% believe he loves me as much as he says he does, sometimes it still feels like the pranks kids used to pull on me in middle school. but i let it all happen. if time passes and it wasn’t meant to be, so be it. but for now he’s the only thing i got, i love him with all my being and i’ll give him everything in the world as long as he loves me.

[this-is-for-no-one]

I broke up with Jake today. I did it at night in our rental home after work over the phone. I had to call him because he is in Arizona, training to be a flight instructor. It took me a while to gather the courage to press his name to call him. I knew that once I did, there was no going back. But I knew I had to, because I was certain of how I felt, and I couldn’t hold it in any longer. He was in the middle of taking food out of the oven with his roommates and I asked if he had time to talk. He stepped into another room and I started by apologizing for not talking to him much this past week, and that I didn’t mean to make him feel unappreciated and sad. He thanked me. I then proceeded to say how I’ve been reflecting on myself and our relationship since he’s been gone and that we need to have a deep conversation about the future of our relationship when he gets back. He took a pause. He asked me if I knew what I was going to say, I said yeah. He asked if I knew how I felt, I said yeah. He said well we might as well talk about it now. I said that I didn’t want to make him more stressed out while he’s there, and he replied with haven’t I basically already said it. I took a breath and started with referencing a time before he left when he had asked me if I had wanted to marry him. At that time, I had told him that I didn’t know. I went on to say that I think he was right in saying that I should’ve known by then if I had wanted to marry him or not. And I don’t, and he deserves someone who does. He deserves someone who can tell him and commit themselves to him where I can’t. That I’m wasting both of our time and just elongating the inevitable and hurting the both of us. He responded with how he thought it was selfish of him to put me in that place and knows that there are some people where it does take longer for them to figure that out. I told him it goes deeper than that, and that we aren’t compatible. How we have very different personalities, feelings, opinions, beliefs, and that they are too different in the long run. How I believe that we each deserve someone who is more like ourselves. He was quiet for a long time. I went on to say that I love him and care for him so much and I want what’s best for him and that it’s not me. I want to see him flourish and now that I’m not holding him back, he can. My thinking is that he can do whatever he wants and can take any opportunity he wishes. He said that he never felt like I held him back. I responded that I was really glad he felt that way. I said that I know this couldn’t have come out of the blue, and that I know he’s thought about it too. I brought up how we had an argument the day before he left and he said that maybe he should go to Alaska and leave my ass here. I reiterated that I knew he was also considering this possibility. He didn’t respond to that, instead he asked me what the plan is with the house. I replied by saying since I know he wants to leave Colorado, that he can and I’ll take care of the house. I’ll have to find a roommate since I can’t afford it alone, but that was the least of my concerns at the moment. I continued by saying I’m more concerned that he’s okay, even though I know this situation sucks and that it’s not okay. That I cared for him. I mentioned how that was a consideration, with talking to him and him being surrounded by people who can support him, rather than getting back here and him being alone in the house. He didn’t respond to that. Rather, I heard a change in his demeanor and he was eager to get off the phone. He said it’d be another 2-3 weeks. He told me he’d message me when it was time for him to come back and we’d figure out packing his stuff and him leaving. I said okay. He tried ending the call two times, and each time I had something to say instead. I told him that I appreciated him talking with me, and the second time I told him that he should focus on school, and I’ll focus on work, and that the next few weeks going forward we should have minimal contact. He agreed, said goodbye, then promptly hung up. I sobbed afterwards.

[boycannibal]

do you ever think about something that happened in middle school and youre like. am i a bad person because of this