#I'm so mad at this disorder I just want to be normal | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ms-demeanor · 2 months

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Going off that post about nutrition and science, I'd love to hear what you think of the 5:2 diet/The Fast 800 and its creator, Dr. Michael Mosley. For context: in order to get an NHS-funded breast reduction (it's a gender thing, but also just a general quality-of-life thing), I need to be a certain BMI, so I've been referred to a weight management clinic. The lady I've been seeing initially just put me on a low-carb diet (130g or less of carbs per day, with an aside from her about how bullshit Keto and BMI limits for treatment are), but now she's said that, if I wanted to speed up the weight loss, I should include the 5:2 diet: 5 days in a week where I eat "normally", and 2 fast days in which I restrict myself to 800kcals. I did a little looking into it myself, and found that 5:2 - which I HAD heard about before - is now being sold as part of "The Fast 800", with Dr. Mosley being the creator of it. I was shocked by that, because I was already a fan of Dr. Mosley's work (he has a podcast called "Just One Thing" that I really liked, and thought contained reasonable-sounding advice), and yet having a diet plan that he's clearly making money off of does immediately make me feel suspicious. I've borrowed his "The Fast 800" book from the library, both to find out more about the diet I've been put on and to see if it's at all backed by evidence, and he does cite a bunch of scientific studies which seem to back up his ideas, but I don't know how valid they are, and I don't just want to accept them at face-value (especially since he's a "we got fat completely wrong in the 80s, therefore we should eat a Mediterranean diet!" types). Obviously I'll go with what my weight management lady suggests, since she's obviously more qualified to talk about it than I am, but I am curious to know what you think, and whether I'm right to be distrustful of all of this.

I am, generally speaking, against any diet for rapid weight loss. They're not sustainable so people gain the weight back (often with more weight getting added on).

There have also recently been findings that suggest that BMI cutoffs for top surgery are detrimental to patients as patients in higher BMI categories are more likely to have minor complications like UTIs or to be readmitted, but are not likely to have major complications or be at risk of significant harm from having top surgery. I don't know if anybody will listen if you bring up that study, and I know that GCS is fraught in many places for many reasons.

I'm also just.

I'm so mad. I'm so fucking mad! I'm so mad about this!

One of my best friends is a guy who was pressured into a pattern of disordered eating and unhealthy exercise in order to qualify for top surgery; since then he has not been able to eat in a healthy way and has struggled with alternating between exercising to the point of harm and other destructive behaviors that make him unhappy and unsafe. And he didn't need that. He didn't need any of that! He needed a very safe surgery that had perhaps a slightly higher risk of minor complications at his size and instead he got top surgery and an eating disorder! I hate it! I'm so fucking mad about it!

Also as near as I can tell Michael Mosley qualified as a psychiatrist in the 90s, spent very little time working as a psychiatrist, and then became a media personality. From what is visible on his website and every biography I've found for him he apparently doesn't have any background in nutrition beyond whatever is standard for someone in medical school (which is NOT MUCH).

Hey I just looked at his website and this is straight-up fucked up.

Anybody recommending an 800 calorie a day diet for 2-12 weeks in a context that is not heavily medically supervised can fucking choke. That is *ridiculously* dangerous and the website says that this can improve insulin resistance but there are a shitload of studies about people on crash diets like this *developing* insulin resistance (oh hey like my friend who became prediabetic after his rapid significant weight loss).

Also in regard to the studies he cites on the website, the "two years later patients are still going strong in their diabetes improvements" it's really important to put shit like that in context

at 5 years 13% of the original intervention group were in remission from their type two diabetes; the average weight loss experienced by the intervention group as a whole was 6.1kg compared to 4.6kg in the control group. That's 1.5kg lower for the people who went through a twelve week medically supervised very low calorie diet compared. That's an average difference of 3.3 pounds between "starvation diet" and "no diet" for the Americans in the audience.

Yours is the second comment I've seen that has been leery of the Mediterranean diet, btw, and the Mediterranean diet is fine. It's very achievable and not super gimmicky and is based on very reasonable reassessments of fat, not the hardcore "you are fine to eat 100g of fat a day" kind of attitude that you get from the keto crew. There isn't really one Mediterranean diet and it certainly isn't low carb (which the bits from Mosely's website seem to indicate it is).

So, no, honestly I don't think much of Mosely and I'm very sorry you're in this situation, that sucks and I hate that they're refusing you treatment until you undergo an exceptionally difficult and potentially harmful weight loss excursion.

I know you're probably stuck with that and it's bullshit and I think it fucking sucks and unfortunately the medical advice you're likely to get is "eat in a significantly disordered manner at least until it is time for surgery" and it blows. That just fucking sucks.

If you're looking for rapid weight loss that you don't plan to sustain (and you shouldn't plan to sustain it, it won't stay off) you may want to look into body building forums for how they discuss cuts. It's still disordered eating and it's still not healthy, but at least they're effective and can tell you what supplements will keep you from becoming malnourished while you prepare for surgery. This is a terrible idea. I don't actually want to give this advice to anyone but bodybuilders are the exact kind of people who know how far and how fast they can push weight loss while having an awareness that it isn't really good for them and it won't stay off.

I cannot overstate enough how much I hate the thought that people are being encouraged to rapidly starve themselves in order to prepare to recover from surgery. I am so sorry and I'm so mad and

#tw weight loss #tw diet talk #tw disordered eating #tw calorie restriction

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blackopals-world · 5 months

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For my Art

Jamil Viper x fem Dancer!Yuu

Venting from a former ballerina

The ballet was everything.

It is is your life.

Your reason to move.

To dance.

It will take your blood, your sweat, and your tears.

This is not a metaphor.

Yuu engraved these words in her heart from the moment her instructor said them to her at the age of 8. She had started later then her peers and had to catch up.

They had already started graduating to pionte shoes.

Those beautiful shoes.

Silk, pastel pink, the one thing that would make their fairytale ballerina dreams come true.

Now they were her's.

Now it was real.

She would be the next Primadonna. The star.

But heavy will be the head to wear that crown. The beautiful feathered headpiece.

She had to train harder.

She had to dance till her arms and legs bruised turning purple and red. That's what makeup is for.

She danced while her feet bled and ached. Her teacher told her it would make her stronger.

She would stand before the other girls and be weighed and measured. Her every imperfection was pointed out.

Because a ballerina was perfect.

Graceful

Delicate

Effortless

Gorgeous

Perfect

And she wanted to be perfect. Needed it.

She would do what it took. To achieve that dream. Break herself if needed. It was all for she sake of dancing on that stage.

Another grueling practice ended as a guest arrived at the studio.

"Hey, Jamil. You're here early." She said wiping the sweat off very brow with a hand towel from her bag.

"I was hoping to see you practice since basketball practice ended early." Jamil said taking a drink from his water bottle.

Yuu smiled as she bent to take off her slippers, wincing due to her sore feet.

Jamil's eyes were drawn to the scene, his eyes widened.

Unmistakable red marks stained the shoes as Yuu sucked in a breath and dig into their bag for her first aid kit.

"You're hurt!" He exclaimed bending down to examine the wound. "What happened?".

"What do you mean?" she said tilting her head to the side. "It's normal."

"Nothing about this is normal. Your bleeding! Especially not from dancing. You need to take a break" Jamil said taking the bandages to wrap the wound.

Just a quickly he was shoved back as Yuu took the bandages back.

"I can do it myself." She said coldly "I've done this for years. Honestly, what do you know?"

"Enough to know that you're hurt and that's all I need to know," Jamil said strained.

"Butt out!"She yelled before stealing herself "Look I'm not mad at you but you don't get to tell me what I should do. You're not my father and you're not my boyfriend."

Jamil tried to respond feeling his cheeks burn but was stopped.

"You don't know what ballet even is. What it takes. Blood, sweat, and tears. I can't afford to waste time. It's a cut-throat world, Jamil. My form must be perfect!" Yuu said adamant.

"Why are you so set on this!" He yelled trying to find sense in this argument.

"BECAUSE I DON'T HAVE MUCH TIME LEFT!" Yuu screamed at the top of her lungs.

And just like that it was said. She fell silent her chest heaving, tears in her eyes, and her lips twisted in a frown.

"I...don't have time." She said again quieter. Sadder.

"Time for what." Jamil lowered his voice too.

"Ballet isn't forever. Girls don't last for long. You're prime is only a few years, and then the roles dry up. You're body changes as you get older. They don't want that. You're body doesn't last either." Yuu said sadly.

Ballet is a bloody industry and you must do what you must to survive.

It starts so innocent and pure. Little pink tutus and leotards to eating disorders and chronic pain.

But little girls still dream of the stage.

"So you'll break yourself to do it? Don't you care about yourself." Jamil asked taking her hand.

Yuu sighed and looked away. She couldn't look him in the eye.

"I don't know..." She said finally.

Yuu had never felt good enough. She never saw herself as worth much.

"It's okay, I'll show you that your more then you think. You matter to me. Even if you don't see your worth, I do." Jamil said hold her hand to his chest.

#dancer!yuu #twst jamil #jamil viper x reader #twisted wonderland jamil #jamil x reader #jamil viper #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland yuu

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silantryoo · 4 months

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BONUS [ LIKEALOOK ] — the last great american dynasty, pt 1.

jang wonyoung, throughout the years.

WARNINGS ; misogyny, toxic household, infidelity, verbal abuse, emotional abuse, absent parents, mentions of affair families, hints of eating disorders, overworking, health issues, fatphobia, implied depression, implied teenage pregnancy (5.5k)

jang wonyoung was born on august 31, 2004.

the newborn was nine pounds and twenty-one inches. with a head of dark, thick hair, the baby's cries rang throughout the hospital room as a tired jang jiyoung could feel the tears welting in her eyes. her baby was alive, and healthy by the sound of it. it was music to her ears.

her baby. her beautiful baby.

she could already imagine it. her beautiful baby boy, inheriting the jang name, passing it on. he'd run for office, just like his father, upholding its integrity, its strength. jiyoung would introduce him to one of her costar's friends, and they'd get married. he'd take care of her, as jiyoung would help his pregnant wife get settled into the family.

she loved her baby boy. her perfect little wonyoung.

"what would you like to name her?"

jiyoung's heart dropped.

her?

"i'm sorry?"

she must've heard wrong. it was just the post-labor haze that had been talking. not only would wonseok reprimand her for not producing an heir to the jang name, but she wouldn't have anyone to take care of her once she grew old.

at least, not someone capable.

the baby's cries continued, almost as if the baby was begging for a glimpse of its mom. with tiny little hands outstretched in the direction of jiyoung, tears poured down its chubby cheeks.

her baby. her baby girl.

"wonyoung." she said half-heartedly. "i'll name her jang wonyoung."

jang wonyoung was imperfect from the start.

her cheeks were too chubby.

any normal four-year-old would have been praised. chubby cheeks were a sign of health, a sign that your baby was eating well.

wonyoung knew it from the way her mom would stare at her, sometimes even pinching her cheeks harshly, almost as if she was trying to pull off the fat on them.

she tried to ignore it, always opting to color peacefully and blink the tears away.

she always drew four people.

her mom, hair flowing to her shoulders, her eyes the same doe-eyed ones as wonyoung. wonyoung always drew her with an angry expression. it was only on tv that wonyoung saw her smile. the youngest jang always stayed up to see her mom smile.

one day, she wanted to see it in person.

her dad was there too, who she rarely saw, but always held a frown whenever he came home. she noticed that he always smelt different, sometimes like the dark, but other times, like flowers. her dad was always serious, even when he was with her mom.

there was also her nanny, a middle-aged woman named hannah, drawn with a smile that made wonyoung feel warm and safe. from what she told wonyoung, she had been working for jiyoung back when she was lee.

wonyoung wondered if her mom smiled back then.

lastly, in the middle, the four-year-old stood. she'd draw herself out in blue crayon, holding her parents' hands with a happy smile. she wished they had a photo like that, instead of the rigid ones that they kept above the fireplace.

hopefully, she'd get a younger sibling soon, so she could love more people.

"enough drawing, wonyoung." her mom snatched her masterpiece away, eyebrows furrowed like the pictures. "your dad is coming home soon."

"he is?" she hoped that he smelt like flowers again.

"he is." jiyoung's face hardened. "you have to go to your room now."

"but i want to see him." she hadn't seen her dad in two months. her mom always said he was at the office, helping the next candidate for the upcoming election (whatever that meant). wonyoung didn't care though. all she wanted was to see her dad again.

jiyoung let out a long sigh, and wonyoung could feel the guilt starting to build up in her chest.

did she make her mom mad again?

"he's in a bad mood, wonyoung." her lips were in a tight line, and wonyoung could see her jaw clenching.

she just wanted her mom to smile at her for once. she wanted to stop making her angry, and her dad happy.

the young girl's eyes brightened, her cheeks turning a light red.

"i can cheer him up!" her dad always laughed at her jokes. if she could get him to smile, wonyoung was sure she could make him feel better. "my friend, sarang, taught me a magic trick. if i can just show dadd-"

"i said," her mom's voice was strict and firm, not the smooth melody she heard on tv. "go to your room, wonyoung."

"but-" wonyoung could cheer him up! she knew she could.

jiyoung sighed. of course, wonyoung would disobey her. she shouldn't have expected anything else from the younger girl.

"do you want him to be mad at you?" the older woman scolded her, jiyoung's finger pointing at the four-year-old in front of her. "do you want him to know that you're a stupid little girl who doesn't listen to her mom?"

stupid.

wonyoung hadn't heard that word before, not until now. her mom had always called her other things; annoying, loud, irritating, but she had never heard stupid before.

she didn't know why it made her feel bad.

"what?" wonyoung could feel herself shrinking into her seat, gripping onto the blue crayon in her hand. "what's stupid?"

"you." jiyoung's eyes were numb, void of all emotions. wonyoung hated it when her mom looked at her like that. "you're being an annoying, stupid little girl right now."

stupid? was she stupid?

wonyoung could feel herself crying.

she didn't want to be stupid. she just wanted to make her dad happy. she just wanted to spend time with him, even when he smelt weird, like the cabinet her mom would open frequently.

"i just wanna see daddy..." wonyoung hiccuped. her lip quivered as her mom glared at her, huffing.

her mom was mad. it was wonyoung's fault, again.

maybe wonyoung was a stupid little girl.

she didn't want to be stupid.

"he doesn't wanna see you." jiyoung whispered, her voice piercing the young jang.

wonyoung hung her head low.

she knew it deep down. she knew that her dad's laughs were to shoo her away. wonyoung could see it by the way he looked at her, and no matter how hard she tried, no matter how funny her jokes were, wonseok wouldn't look her way. even when she showed him her drawings, all he would do was nod.

wonyoung was a stupid girl.

"go to your room, wonyoung."

wonyoung nodded, her bottom lip quivering as she packed up her crayons. she cradled the box against her body, rushing upstairs as jiyoung poured herself a glass of wine.

the four-year-old swung the door open, jumping into her already-made bed. the box of crayons squished against the pale blue covers, various pinks, and reds staining them. it was warm in her room, blindingly bright for a night at 9pm. if wonyoung wasn't crying so much, she'd ask hannah to turn down the lamp and turn on her rabbit night light.

she loved rabbits. they looked like her mom.

"wonyoung." hannah laughed at the little girl, sitting beside her faced-down head. "your crayons."

wonyoung stayed quiet, letting her bed soak up the tears pouring down her face. she tried her best to be quiet, to not disturb anyone, just like her mom taught her.

hannah could still hear her sniffling, though.

the older woman rubbed the back of wonyoung's shirt, feeling the young heiress gasping for air. "what's wrong?"

wonyoung lifted her head up, squinting as she tried to adjust to the room's brightness. she could see the han river from where she was, the water glistening into the jang household.

the four-year-old looked at her caretaker, the kind woman smiling at her.

"mama told me to go up here." her voice was as tiny as she was. "she said daddy was coming, and that he was upset."

wonyoung was upset too, but she was okay with being upset if it meant wonseok would look her way.

"why are you crying then?"

she was crying because she was stupid. she was crying because she never got to spend time with her dad, and her mom only looked her way when wonyoung listened to her.

she was crying because she was jang wonyoung, and her parents didn't want jang wonyoung.

"mama said i can't see him." she hummed as the nanny stroked her hair, comfort washing throughout her body. "he'd get mad at a stupid girl like me."

hannah frowned.

she was worried that jiyoung would turn out like this, bitter and cruel to the younger girl. jiyoung had always resembled her mother, even back when the eldest lee was a baby. hannah had always hoped that she wouldn't hold the same parenting style as her.

"wonyoung." hannah bit back the quiver of her voice. no girl, especially someone as sweet as the young heiress, should ever think of themselves in such a way. "don't call yourself stupid. you're a very smart girl."

wonyoung shook her head. every word her parents had said was a sense of truth to the young child. every glare, every sigh made her feel sad. it made her hurt.

it made her feel worthless.

(but the four year-old didn't know that word yet, and it wouldn't be a couple years until she did. but it didn't matter, because she knew it felt the same when she was four as it did when she was twenty.)

"mama said i was." her voice was as little as she was.

jiyoung was her mother in every sense, just like she always wanted to be. hannah hoped wonyoung wouldn't meet the same fate.

"she's just stressed out right now." she felt guilty lying to the young girl, even though it was partial. "don't listen to her."

wonyoung wanted to believe hannah, so she nodded, sitting up and allowing herself to accept the excuse.

hannah smiled, her grin sending a warmth through wonyoung's body that made her feel loved. she wished that her mom would smile at her that way, but she didn't mind that it was hannah.

the woman looked at wonyoung's bed sheets, stained with the young girl's tears and her crayons.

"do you wanna help me clean this up?" hannah asked, watching as the four year-old's eyes lit up.

wonyoung always wanted to help her.

it made her miss her daughter.

"can i show you a magic trick first?" the young jang smiled, her chubby cheeks protruding from her face.

"a magic trick?" hannah asked gleefully. she pinched wonyoung's cheek lightly, trying her best to control her giddiness. she didn't understand how anyone could hate her this child. "our baby knows a magic trick?"

"can i?" wonyoung grabbed a crayon from the box, waiting for hannah's answer.

"of course, wonyoung."

wonyoung felt perfect.

wonyoung was stupid.

she didn't understand how she could get a 78% in english. perhaps she had been too enamored by their english teacher, the young woman from overseas who had cat-like eyes and a soft, comforting voice that felt like a blanket.

still, she should be doing better. she had gone to an english speaking preschool. most of her friends spoke english as well. she even had cousins across the planet that lived in english speaking countries.

the young heiress felt herself tense as she heard her father sigh beside her. her teacher, pretty and proper, sat in front of them, alongside the principal. only a dark mahogany desk separated the two parties, but wonyoung wished it was more.

"a tutor?" jang wonseok voice was sharp, yet deep and demanding. "why would she need a tutor?"

she needed a tutor because she was stupid. wonyoung was a stupid girl.

she held her tongue back, the knot in her throat increasing as she felt her father radiate anger.

"wonyoung is struggling in english." the eight year-old could hear the worry in her teacher's voice, but she didn't know if it was directed at her or at her father. "it's normal for kids her age too, but she has a hard time with the structure."

the young heiress wanted to go home. she wanted to sit in her dark room, in her closet behind the mahogany doors, the one that had twelve knots, an imperfection that was smooth to the touch.

it was the only imperfection she could bear because jang's can't come with imperfections.

wonyoung wished she wasn't a jang, or at the very least, she wasn't wonyoung.

"if it's normal then why does my daughter need it?" the young jang didn't need to turn to know that her father was scowling at the pretty girl in front of them. she could already hear it in his voice.

"well, since you did sign her up for the advanced placement in our school, it'll be hard for her to keep up with the class." her teacher was calm. wonyoung liked calm. "a tutor would help her and-"

"my daughter doesn't need a tutor."

she did. wonyoung knew she did.

but her father rarely acknowledged her, much less as his daughter. part of her had wondered if he did it purposefully, but it didn't matter. not right now, at least.

"right, wonyoung?"

wonyoung couldn't continue to be a disappointment.

"no."

"get up." her father smirked. he stood up, dusting his tailored dress pants. "we're leaving."

"yes, dad."

obedience was perfection, just like status was worth.

wonyoung just wished that it didn't have to break a part of her every time she did it.

jang wonseok stormed out, and wonyoung could feel the embarrassment fluttering across her chest. her eyes met her principal's, his face scowled in disdain.

jang's had pride, but wonyoung knew better than to leave as such.

the eight-year-old bowed. she bowed as an apology for her and her father and as a sign of respect for the two school staff who took time out of their way out of concern for her.

"jang wonyoung!"

her eyes widened, and wonyoung found herself bolting out of the room, her school bag clutched against her chest.

jang wonseok was scary.

the two made their way into wonseok's mercedes, wonyoung hopping inside, as her father started the car.

the two drove in silence, wonyoung knowing better than to speak once spoken to. she didn't want to anger her father any further, otherwise it would fall onto her mother, which would fall onto her.

she didn't have time for that. she needed to study.

her stomach grumbled lowly, the sudden sound making her head jolt up.

oh, she needed to eat too. she had forgotten about that along the way, too anxious about the parent-teacher meeting that happened to eat lunch earlier that day.

she needed to eat and then study. if she studied as soon as she got home, she would have time to draw or watch cartoons without sacrificing her grades.

was she even allowed to watch cartoons now? her mother had always called them nonsense but wonyoung liked to turn off her brain once in a while. maybe that's why she was stupid. maybe that's why she was like this.

or maybe she was just like this because she was wonyoung.

"your teacher pisses me off." wonseok turned the corner. "is she always like that?"

did she always care about wonyoung? yes, more than her father did.

but she wasn't going to tell him that.

"no."

"hm." wonseok hummed, the car coming to a halt as the traffic light turned red. he glanced at his daughter, gaze cold and stern. "you shouldn't be struggling, wonyoung. that's not how i raised you."

the young heiress wasn't raised by her father or her mother. at eight, she already knew that, and it angered her to think that they kept trying to take credit for her actions, whether it be good or bad.

hannah raised her. not jang wonseok.

but she still held his last name, like how his blood flowed through her veins, and how his title affected her daily life.

"you're a jang." the car started to move again. "jang's don't need help. you think my father helped me? you think he made me how i am?"

part of her wondered if her grandfather had treated her father like this, or if her father was just mean to be mean.

"do you understand what i'm saying?"

wonyoung nodded, obedient as ever. "yes."

"when you get home, i expect you to be studying." wonyoung frowned. her father would most likely be in his study, one that had a clear view of the kitchen. "hannah will keep an eye on you."

"hannah's sick." she was in no shape to take care of the young jang. in fact, wonyoung had been taking care of her. "she should stay in her room. i can just ask my friends-"

"how much do you know, wonyoung?" wonseok asked, practically waving her shortcomings in front of her face. the young girl stayed silent. "exactly. and your friends know as much as you do. hannah will be making sure you stay on track."

wonyoung knew better than to argue, so she listened like she always did.

"yes, dad."

wonyoung wished she could stop listening, just this once.

there were twelve knots on the inside of her mahogany-boarded closet. four were broken in half, caught in between doors while the rest scattered.

there were fifty slits on said doors, one hundred in total. she liked the way the light peaked in, and how warm she felt when it hit her face.

there were three pillows that scattered the ground in said closet. one was bunny-shaped, pastel blue with beady eyes that wonyoung had gotten for her ninth birthday. the other two were throw pillows, white in color, ones that her mother had given her this year, on her tenth.

the hard, cold ground was covered with a blanket, navy blue and fluffy, one that hadn't been washed in over two months. wonyoung's initials were stitched onto the side, but it was only a reminder that she and this closet, her escape, were owned by her father.

it was her father who owned this house, who owned her existence, just like he owned a second child.

her father was a cheater. wonyoung had heard it in between slits of the one hundred panels that made up the majority of her closet's entrance.

"cheater!" she heard.

"liar!" she heard.

crying, she heard.

she wished she could stop hearing it in her head, how her mother's sharp cries echoed in her skull, and how jiyoung blamed everything on the ten-year-old jang wonyoung.

it's my fault.

it always was.

a shadow passed through the holes of her closet, blocking the sunlight as it reached her eyes. wonyoung wondered how long she had been inside, the fighting reaching its climax at around four that morning.

she only wanted to study.

the shadow stayed still as if it was contemplating leaving. the young jang hoped that it was her mother, coming to apologize for the careless words that she had yelled an hour ago.

but jang jiyoung never apologized, just like she never cried.

the shadow spoke.

"wonyoung..."

the young jang stood up, opening the opposite door in a hurry.

the ten-year-old grabbed her arm, bracing it gently as the older woman smiled. she could see hannah holding a cup of water, waves rippling with each shake of her hand.

"you should be resting." she furrowed her eyebrows.

hannah merely stared, not budging as the young heiress felt herself getting more desperate.

wonyoung begged. "hannah, please."

"i'm not leaving until we talk." the older woman shook her head, standing her ground.

hannah was like her, stubborn in every sense. she cared too much to let wonyoung wallow in her sorrows. the young jang knew she would be lost without her guidance.

"can you at least sit?" wonyoung tried to reason, ushering hannah to her bed.

she nodded, allowing wonyoung to lead her. she sat down, handing wonyoung the glass, who took it carefully as if hannah was the one that was fragile.

the two sat in silence, and all hannah could remember was wonyoung at four years old, crying about her mother.

it was no different this time.

"it's not your fault." the older woman started. "your mom is just angry."

jiyoung was an angry person, like wonseok.

but wonseok wanted calm, and jiyoung hadn't been the person to provide that.

"do you think she would be happier if i was never born?" wonyoung asked, her thoughts echoing the shouting of her mother.

hannah couldn't fathom anyone saying such words about their child.

"if i could, i would." the ten-year-old wonyoung meant it truthfully. "i don't like seeing mom upset. i keep trying to fix it but i'm just too..."

wonyoung knew the word. she had felt it at four years old. she had felt it at eight. wonyoung was sure she wasn't going to stop feeling it until she died.

she knew the word because it's what she was.

"worthless."

the word that summed her up in all parts hung in the air as hannah stared at her in shock.

"wonyoung-"

"i am though!" wonyoung never raised her voice, but wonyoung wasn't perfect. she never was and never would be. "if i wasn't like this, mom would love me. dad would pay attention to me. he wouldn't have cheated if i was better."

wonyoung wondered how someone could be so imperfect. she wondered if she was doomed to be alone, to be unwanted, and to ruin every good thing on this planet.

"it's my fault."

"it's not, wonyoung." wonyoung wanted to believe hannah, but she couldn't this time. "your mom and your dad have a very complicated relationship."

wonyoung shook her head. she was the reason it was complicated.

"i wish dad would stop yelling at mom." wonyoung placed the still full glass on her counter. "i wish mom would stop yelling at me."

wonyoung didn't remember a time when her mother didn't yell at her. whether it was a bad grade or to wash the dishes, it was always a yell.

"i'm at the top of my class. i'm friends with all the people dad told me to be friends with. i even skipped a grade. everyone keeps telling them that they want a daughter like me, but mom and dad don't even want me." wonyoung just wanted someone to want her. "i don't know what to do anymore."

if she could, wonyoung would disappear.

"you're ten, wonyoung." this wasn't right, not for anyone and especially not for a ten-year-old. "you don't have to do anything."

wonyoung really wanted to believe her.

"i just want them to love me."

the young heiress had wished the unconditional love that everyone had talked about applied to her when it came to her parents. she had heard that it was supposed to happen as soon as she was born.

perhaps she missed out this time, in this life, because in this life, she was worthless.

but not to hannah. never to hannah.

"i love you."

wonyoung had never felt love from her mother, but she had always felt love from hannah.

"you do?"

"i do." hannah smiled sadly. it hurt to know that wonyoung had felt this way (and how there was a chance that her baby felt the same, wherever she was). "i know how complicated families can be..."

wonyoung had never heard hannah speak about her family, but she knew that the older woman would be a good, if not amazing one.

part of her was jealous that someone out there had a mom like hannah, when she had a mom like jiyoung.

"do you have family, hannah?"

the woman, hands shakey, grasped them together tightly. her lips were pursed, and a mournful expression seemed to overtake the comforting one from before.

"i have a daughter back home." her baby was nine pounds and twenty-one inches with a head full of hair. when hannah closed her eyes, she could hear her baby crying for her mother. "i had her really young."

her baby. her beautiful baby girl.

"do you miss her?" wonyoung asked.

"i miss her a lot." missing her was an understatement. "i haven't heard from her in years."

"why?"

she could think of a million reasons why, all of which she held to herself, in grief and in sorrow.

hannah was a bad mother for abandoning her child, and a bad daughter for being so reckless.

"i grew up really poor." hannah couldn't even begin to compare the jang's house to the one she had back home. "i couldn't find a job, so i moved overseas. i left my baby with my mom."

but her child lived, and her child was loved, even from afar.

"do you love her?"

"i do." hannah couldn't think about not loving her. "i love her so much."

"but you left her."

"i left because i loved her." wonyoung's eyes glistened at the word. she couldn't imagine leaving someone out of love. perhaps disappearing, but leaving was unfathomable. "i'd rather have her grow up hating me than die starving. i just wish i can go back. i just wanna my baby one more time."

this was the unconditional love that everyone had praised. it was the homemade bento boxes, and the tight hugs that wonyoung would see from her friends and their moms. it was the tearful goodbyes from her best friend's grandparents, and the thoughtful notes that her seatmate would find in her bag.

to love someone is to do what's best for them, to do the right thing.

was wonyoung the best for her parents? were her parents the best for wonyoung?

did they even love her?

"you're a good mom, hannah." wonyoung hugged her tightly. "i wish you were my mom."

wonyoung couldn't imagine it, having someone risk everything just for her to be happy. she couldn't imagine loving someone so much, but one day, whether it be a child or someone else, she would love to.

wonyoung wanted to love someone right.

she looked at the tearful hannah, the older woman smiling down at her.

"i promise that when i'm older, i'll make sure you can go back and see your family again."

it was a promise that wonyoung intended to keep.

"thank you, wonyoung."

hannah didn't doubt her. not for one second.

the jang's were never good at keeping promises.

jang wonseok was a politician. keeping promises and breaking them was part of the territory. every campaign he held at least a couple empty pledges, just like he did back home. the twelve-year-old jang wonyoung knew that.

plus, there was no way she'd actually believe what her father said. not after he betrayed her mother.

jang jiyoung was no better. being a news anchor, she had always run a tight schedule. for days, wonyoung wouldn't see her despite each promise that the woman would make, and although she didn't mind, sometimes the young jang did want someone to eat dinner with, even if it was just a cup of instant noodles they could share.

wonyoung thought she was different. that she was hannah's daughter and not a jang.

but it ran in her blood.

"hannah knew me before i knew her."

the microphone echoed, the twelve-year-old's shakey hands grasping tightly onto the paper in front of her, her fingerprints making light marks against the blank white.

"she went with my mom to get an ultrasound when she was pregnant with me." her parents were nowhere to be seen, her father at a meeting and her mother at work. "they said i was a big baby, but hannah said i was a special baby."

to love someone is to do the right thing. letting go was the right thing.

"i don't think i'm special. i think i'm just wonyoung." the crowd laughed. hannah would've laughed too. "hannah was the special one. she knew how to make me feel better. she knew when i was sick before i got sick. she even knew the weather before it happened."

wonyoung didn't want to let go, but she would, for hannah.

"hannah told me that she hadn't seen her baby in a while." she hoped hannah's baby knew how loved she was, and she hoped that her words could reach her, even if it was far away. "i promised her that when i was older, i would make sure she saw them."

the jang's were known to break promises.

"i thought she was gonna live forever. i wanted her to live forever, or just long enough so i can keep my promise. for once, i just wanted to make her feel better. hannah always made me feel better." wonyoung didn't know when the page got so blurry, or why water was pouring out of her eyes. "i thought if i loved her enough, i could fix it. i could do it."

she didn't know how she managed to fail the one person who believed in her.

"i want to apologize to her today. i should've tried harder." she had everything. why couldn't she try harder to give hannah this one? she might've been a twelve-year-old, but still. "i'm sorry, hannah. i'm really really sorry."

to love someone is to do the right thing, but wonyoung realized it was also to mourn, and to be angry at herself for not being better. her failures stared her in the face, the casket mocking her as if she was nothing.

she didn't want to think about it anymore. she had failed, and wonyoung wanted nothing more than for this pain to be gone.

sighing, she stepped down from the lectern.

hannah was her own. her mother.

and like a shadow, she was gone.

death seemed to round the corners of the jang household.

she could see boxes upon boxes piling up in front of their penthouse, her mother glaring into the distance half-heartedly, conflicted with her pain.

jang jiyoung was a lee once. she was the younger sister of lee jihuyn, and the aunt of the ten-year-old lee hyunseo.

lee jihyun always smelt like flowers whenever she was around. it was no wonder why jang wonseok was so fond of her.

"this is hyunseo." her father said, patting the heiress on her shoulder. it pained wonyoung to see him so happy to have his affair child around, especially after- no. wonyoung didn't deserve to think about her again. "she'll be staying with us."

wonyoung nodded bowing as the younger girl stared at her in wonder.

"hello, hyunseo."

wonseok smiled at the young girl in a way wonyoung never got when she was hyunseo's age. "wonyoung will show you your room."

wonyoung's face twitched in disdain before switching into a soft smile.

she led hyunseo up to hann a room, unoccupied yet cleared of any existence that came before it.

hyunseo didn't deserve this room.

wonyoung turned to the younger girl. "this is your ro-"

"can i call you unnie?" the lee couldn't help but gleam at her, her eyes bright as the han river glared back into her new room. "i never had an unnie before. it was just me, mom and dad all the time."

wonyoung bit back a scowl.

her dad. hyunseo was lucky she had a dad.

"i'll ask the butlers to bring your stuff up." wonyoung couldn't help but be cold. "i have a school tour to go to."

"oh..." she watched as the younger girl deflated, and wonyoung couldn't help but feel guilty. hyunseo bounced back, though, her expression brighter than before.

"okay!"

wonyoung didn't understand how she could be so happy.

wonyoung had never been to a public school.

her father and mother had always opted to have her in a private one, yet the presence of a public school with such a reputation around their area had the jang's interested.

wonyoung had to agree that the high school was fairly nice. it had its own swimming pool, and it was clearly popular among international students, wonyoung seeing a few as she passed by.

everything else was pretty much the same as every other school, though. nothing stood out, at least nothing of interest.

the heiress found herself walking back to the entrance, scrolling through her phone to get her butler to pick her up. as she dialed, screams and cheers could be heard from the gym.

she should've known better than to enter, but wonyoung's facade was wearing her down. the newly impulsive jang crept inside, more and more yelling filling her skull. it wasn't angry yelling, but a cheerful one.

she didn't understand what could be so interesting.

the heiress felt herself getting swept away, a sudden crowd forming around one of the players as the final whistle blew.

her eyes trained onto the figure, two adults, seemingly the girl's parents, hugging her tightly as the girl cried.

the girl was perfect in every sense, from her face to the way she smiled. she didn't doubt that the older girl probably had perfect grades, and a perfect family, with a set of perfect friends.

the crowd around her roared, and wonyoung realized that the girl in front of her was so loved, so respected, all because she was perfect.

to love someone is to do the right thing.

one day, she'd be perfect enough to have her parents love her. one day, she'll feel like she wasn't a mistake, that she wasn't worthless.

and one day, someday, wonyoung would be perfect enough to mention her name once more.

she'll do the right thing this time.

wonyoung was going to be perfect.

masterlist | next

taglist (CLOSED)!!

@serenitygrace24 @moontealemonpie @writingficsblog @kittyeij @cutieseo @limbforalimb @ahnneyong @yumtooki @lcv3lies @sserajeans @jiwoneiric @babycubchae @trsrina @xyxlyn @misumiausworld @slowlyturninggay291 @awkwardtoafault @captivq @ddeonutz @noiacha @sserabey @d7dream @slowlyturninggay291 @lvwr @perfectsunlight @juhyunsthirdwife @uzumakioden @txtbrainrot @rosiehrs @yunjinhart @skisk1 @bzeus28 @deeznutzryu @jisooftme @danistolemyheart @li0ilthecxnt @eggomi @ddoxhan @zhivaxo @sweet-dhrafts @livelaughloveyujin @luveuly @marimo-anura @yunnybunnyy @ivy-aurora @wonyoluvr

#jang wonyoung x reader #ive x reader #iz*one x reader #izone x reader #aespa x reader #kpop x reader #idol x reader #silantryo

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thurio-edau · 5 days

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SBG GANG MENTAL ANALYSIS

sorry for the delay!

alright, gotta say... this one's a bit shorter. but the next will come like a train wreck i promise😇

Part 3: Ben Clark

oh the sweet old Ben... a kind and loving soul muted away. I'm thinking of inspecting his trauma and his general actions, and give him a diagnosis which I'm sure is canon even. I'm sure everyone who knows the disorder itself is aware that Ben is, in fact, suffering from PTSD.

let's start. first, what is PTSD?

PTSD, or Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, is a mental condition where someone feels what they have previously went through in a past traumatic experience. PTSD is frequently found with flashbacks to the moment, overwhelming feelings and sudden responses. there are two types of this disorder, PTSD and C-PTSD. but we'll look in the first one for now.

Ben has always been a really kind character. ever since the beginning. more of a 'gentle giant' type of character, though we never see him talk. he's soft, he loves to help his friends and never does anything vulgar around them, including the phantom dimension. he feels nice when he gets praised even if he doesn't show it too.

the first time we see him getting flashbacks and his anger issues being visible is when we first see Barron's behaviour towards Logan. anything that includes actual bullying gives him flashbacks and his response is his anger issues unleashing.

in his backstory, Ben is shown that he's more of a shy type of person, but he loves singing. because his tall and intimidating appereance doesn't match his softness, a group of dumbasses try to 'fix' him which he rejects. back when Shane strangled him, is what he gets flashbacks to. it was something that changed his entire life, he had a passion for singing but he never did with his damaged voice. god knows how many times he was hospitalized when he was going around to fights because of his outburst of rage.

yep, rage. I'd classify his anger issues as the 'rage' type with PTSD. PTSD rage makes more sense to me than just normal anger problems. I've seen and lived with many people with anger issues, but none of them are similar to rage. anger problems in general are usually verbal, if you don't make them mad to a point they're all bark and no bite. but of course after a point the violence behind the generic anger issues can unleash (see Tyler)

okay, back to Ben and rage. rage is an extreme condition of anger, the person gets violent and their thoughts are clouded with the rage which makes them not think before doing anything drastic. but he's not very closed off about it either, actually. the time where he accepted Aiden to do the storytelling was before the first half of season one, the gang wasn't even that close.

this means that he saw them as actual friends so early on. probably before everyone. Ashlyn took her sweet time accepting the friendship, I'm kind of sure that Aiden didn't at first (see Tyler, yet again), Tyler also definitely didn't (as said by Taylor in season two premiere) and I think Logan has attachment/trust issues but that's for later. the only other possible person that might accept the group fastly is Taylor but with Tyler's influence so close to her, there is also a chance she didn't at first.

Ben was fine with his friends knowing his past. he put his earphones on because he didn't want to hear about it, or else he knew he'd get flashbacks yet again. I'm thinking that it could be diagnosed too. Aiden knows that it's not just a memory, it's flashbacks to Ben and he covers for him whenever he sees something that might trigger Ben. after learning the situation, Taylor also does the same. they learn the severity of his problems and are all fine with helping him.

another thing I'm sure of is that he's extremely attached to his friends. we know that everyone is close-knit, but Ben specifically. he might not speak but that doesn't mean that he doesn't enjoy their time. he does, fully. which is I think why he/his room was... like that in the facility, without any spoilers.

to say, the gang is more than just friends to him; they're his found family, where he feels like he belongs. they don't judge him for his silence there. they understand his past. they're not scared of him just because of the way he was built and they're not going to be either.

but what about his family?

families are one of the most important part of a character and their backstory. the family is what decides how they will live, act and even feel sometimes. then what about Ben's? where were they during his backstory?

yeah. Ben's rage causes something terrible to happen.

but it ends better for everyone. Ben gets the therapy he needed, starts to live with Aiden, makes the gang his friends and it actually goes well.

his parents?

we meet Naomi and William during Lily's birthday.

yes, Mike, Lily is goshdarn adorable.

first, I think Naomi and William aren't to blame. I think they did the best they could; they tried to help Ben, tried to help him get therapy, sent him to Aiden's place to help himself. then why didn't Ben's story stop?

Ben couldn't control his rage until their house got destroyed and he realized just how far it got. he sneaked out of the house, a lot of people seem to not see that detail. and they seem to be very caring, too.

they're amazing as a whole family, to be honest. even the little Lily doesn't care about her birthday getting wrecked, because she wants to help Ben and his friends. she indirectly helped Tyler extremely well, since the sedative idea came from her in the first place.

Naomi was the first person who brought up the whole 'we-are-seeing-phantoms' discussion and William didn't hesitate to talk about it. Naomi was also the first person to notice the phantoms when the worlds collided for a mere second.

and Ben himself has shown completely zero negative behaviour towards them. and Lily gets treated like a princess -even if she accidentally neutered Ben-

side note here, that Lily also really loves the family too. the way she cuddled Aiden when he died and came back was so cute to be honest.

so I don't think the family is anywhere to blame either. it was Ben who was strangled, Ben who fought, and Ben who saw therapy. the reason why I'm talking about this is because a lot of people suddenly blame a character's family when there's a problem with them.

guys. people with caring, loving families can be traumatized too. just because someone has a happy family doesn't mean they're suddenly over any trauma they live. doesn't mean everything is suddenly okay. it means that they have an accepting place to go to, a safe space. and Ben's family? I think they're just like that. they desperately try to help. help their son, their nephew and their friends. hell, Lily trying to help also speaks volumes in my opinion. their father -dilf no.2 after Mike right here- William was the one who offered the idea to get the kids saved from the centipede phantom. and to be honest? it was pretty smart.

she also tried to prevent Emma from going mad because come on, Emma would absolutely wreck anyone if they dared blame Ashlyn for this. (still I think Jessica has to apologize for being to insensitive smh)

Naomi really seems like a sweetheart to me, I already said what to be said about William in a single very important side sentence and if there was any kind of in-family neglect Lily would also be affected. but she isn't so I think we're good? I adore the whole Ben family tho.

to wrap it all up.

Ben is suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder which makes him see flashbacks and turn into a rage mode each time he is triggered due to his backstory, being bullied because he's too soft. his rage causes a gang to destroy his home (HELLO?? ARE THERE NO FUNCTIONING COPS IN THIS STOR-- oh wait it's america yea there ain't nvm) and his parents try their best. move, get Ben to therapy and let Daniel's side help him by doing stuff he loves. Ben is still trying to recover, but his flashbacks are strong due to impacting his entire life from his voice and make it difficult.

(vocal chords repair by time actually, but he hasn't been speaking for like 4 years so maybe it'd need some voice exercises until it returns to normal?? if it's just vocal chords he'd be alright. imagine if he could talk and sing normally all this time but he just didn't know. it's something between "aww poor guy :((" and "lmao"

but I don't know about voice box, can someone enlighten me on vocal chord damage vs. voice box damage? thamks)

and Lily. Lily is a cinnamon roll. no other opinions allowed.

-i wanted to make a part for Ben and Taylor but i decided wasn't fit here :P-

#sbgblr #sbg (webtoon)#school bus graveyard #school bus graveyard webtoon #schoolbus graveyard #sbg #sbg ben #ben clark

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craycraybluejay · 8 months

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Literally, people who joke with me about how psychotic and crazy I am are a million times better allies than some asshole who wants to debate the validity of psychotic disorders with me, an individual who has one. And people who are so scared to think about someone they know having a psychotic disorder, not because they're worried for them but because they can't see us as just people. They will dance around the issue with "oh youre just weird thats okay!" "Im sure everyone can see things if theyre really stressed" "maybe youre just depressed?" Underhanded 'compliments' about how normal they're Sure you are and how theres no way youre like "that weird guy i saw rambling to himself a few months ago in the park" or "my friend nancy who thinks she's an alien." Because they can't dare to see you as a person if you're Like Them.

You can say PSYCHOTIC. You can say SCHIZO. They're not dirty words. I love my schizotypy. It's a part of me, and it is dare I say quite a part of the reason I have the talent and drive that I do in certain fields of study and arts. Maybe other people on the schizo spectrum don't like it, and that's their choice and feelings, their experience. But one thing's for sure, accepting and destigmatizing schizo spectrum disorders is important in the madpunk movement. I don't need double-edged "praise" of how I'm "not like them." And what if I am? What if I'm stark-raving mad, speaking in tongues and trying to fight demons and falling in love with things that don't exist to anybody else? What if green-yellow butterflies fly around my field of vision while I look at you, while we talk? What if I hear the voices of people I really don't like while you and I have a pizza at my place? What if the world tilts and shifts, and suddenly I'm not sure where I am and everything feels possible and god is talking to me and the shadow government is watching me? What then? Am I no longer a person? Is my reality less important than yours? Do I deserve to be unpersoned for seeing the world differently, whether that be due to a mental disorder or simply because I don't agree with the status quo?

We all deserve to be treated equally and fairly. Some differences we are born with, others we attain later in life unrelated to genetics or anything like that, some are simply quirks. No one should be forced to identify under labels they don't agree with, and conversely, no one should be denied the validity of their own experience of themselves and their life. And all differences, psychotic ones especially, because that's what this post is about, are beautiful in their own way and worthy of acceptance and respect.

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grapebritain · 7 months

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Shawn acts like his life is a play constantly. Like he's in some sort of theatre performing or in some sort of skit with a laughing track in the background . Even though I'm aware psych is a comedy, shawn does not need to act the way he does to MAKE it a comedy. No other character acts as theatrical, nonsensical, and dramatic as shawn does, which leads me to believe this is a character trait, not just a byproduct of the show genre.

He sees his life as some big game. Like a performance that he participates in to make pop culture references, bizarre jokes, and flirty comments to make things interesting to an auidence that doesn't exist( at least in his reality). It's only when things become REAL that shawn actually shows any of the darker sides to his personality. I deffo do think he has some sort of personality disorder because he acts SO different on the surface from the far more analytical, almost antisocial personality below it all.

When anything breaks the illusion to him that his life ISNT some sort of game or play. When things get emotional , when stakes are high, when his friends are in danger or his family , shawns entire exterior personality crumbles. He becomes the opposite to everything he is normally compleatly shutting down. In the first yang episode for example he gets very mad and very upset. He consistently asks Gus to make things more lighthearted and like normal eventhough it's extreamly inappropriate given the stakes. He needs to stay in that illusion to be able to not only think clearly , but too distract himself from reality and dissociate himself from it entirely to feel a sense of stability which he does on a constant already.

Also with the first yang ep or any time he has to be forced to be serious, he seems to become a lot more closed in, emotional, and insecure which is alarming considering he has a huge ego usually about things and wouldn't just bail. He goes overwhelmingly out of character that it's hard not to notice the stark contrast.

Shawn clearly doesn't want to address the issues he has and the issues of his life. Or his emotional problems. He doesn't like being or feeling vulnerable either, so instead , he just acts as though there isn't anything wrong in the first place. If he doesn't see it, it's not there , right?

(I really love analysing shawn. He's such a deep and interesting character)

#psych #psych the show #shawn spencer #yang episode #psych usa #GrapeBritain

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system-of-a-feather · 22 days

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Man, this will go a bit into syscourse probably, but I was just watching Monkey Man and it really had me thinking (and internally groaning) about how gender "weirdness" is really something that is not weird at all in a lot of non-white non-european cultures. Shiva in Hinduism is a great example.

It's just when you get weird white people who come in and say "well you see, my understanding of gender is actually correct and the right way to think and talk about gender and I am inherently the most correct and right and smartest way of talking about gender and everyone else is just a cultural / spiritual game and should stay within their culture because its wrong but we 'respect' it and let it be wrong"

And it really got me internally ranting about how honestly - and I was trying to be a bit subtle about this cause I know it'd probably get back lash - but as a person of color from a culture and spirituality / philosophy that has plurality and variants of it normalized - the fact that people claim that the only way a person could experience themselves as more than one being due to trauma really really upsets me, because its a very white / western / european way of thinking about the concept of self, identity, personhood, and the soul.

In some cultures, people are understood as inherently many or inherently parts of a whole. It is just something that is just a part of the culture - may that be subtly and in a non-spoken manner, or in a more direct manner in the way that animism and buddhism talks about it. People can and do experience themselves as more than one and have been doing so since long before people were really aware of what psychology even was.

The fact that people talk about how individuals experience themselves inherently in a white, western, euro-centric cultural perspective that writes off "not identifying as one singular person" as something that HAS to come from trauma just really.... kinda pisses me off.

And if the argument is "well they shouldn't be called a system cause its a totally different thing than what people with DID / OSDD have" like... really, why are we getting so hot and bothered over the fucking word "system" and two... I can't delineate where my DID and my cultural plural-adjacent experiences begin and end. And also three, if we are getting so protective over the word "system" then why aren't we getting mad at the guy who developed IFS too??

It's also just so frustrating that people look at people who identify as more than one and inherently go "oh they are only doing this because they looked at my disorder and said they wanted it" when??? no??? Sure there are some I'm sure, but again, this is something people have been experiencing for centuries - hell more than a millenia.

As someone with DID / OSDD, I get the need for protecting the medical label and the diagnosis and all that because yes, while the psych system sucks, the medical labels are medical to get help, aid, and all sorts of stuff - absolutely.

But going around stating that anyone that experiences themselves as more than one is inherently either traumatized or maliciously lying and trying to actively co-opt a disorder is just.... ugh. Not it.

Please consider that there are other cultures and perspectives to identity, self, and spirit that impact how one identifies and engages with their own existence before you start sounding like a colonizer.

-----

Anti-endos are welcome to respectfully discuss and engage.

Arguments and debates are not welcome and will be blocked.

This is partially me venting about white / western people. Do with this as you will.

#alter: fei #alter: riku #syscourse #syscourse tw #vent #vent tw #pro endo #endo friendly #endo safe

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aspd-culture · 2 months

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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:

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

#aspd-culture-is #aspd culture is #aspd culture #actually aspd #aspd #aspd awareness #actually antisocial #antisocial personality disorder #aspd traits #anons welcome #tw sa mention #tw abuse mention

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whumping-valentine · 1 month

Text

🦌 Fawn and Hunter - Part 8 🦌

"Fawn's Punishment"

Content: Restraints, belts, intended non-sexual spanking, defiant whumpee, unearthed childhood trauma, slight nsfw warning (or full nsfw warning idk where y'all would draw that line. Basically whumpee accidentally finds out they have a kink. This is the only time the series will get nsfw.)

1,600 words

Hey, part 8! Who's ready for our little Fawn to finally get put in their place? I know I am! :)

Sorry for my absence recently. A few weeks ago my brother and his friend dragged me out to chaperone a concert 2 hours away when I was starting to feel sick, and I'm disabled and couldn't sit the entire time unless it was on the floor, then I got the full on FLU, then while sick I started my period, and I haven't been able to do anything for over a week. I couldn't focus and was angry and depressed about it and how sick I felt but whatever. In all honesty it was awful. And then my pet turtle died and my brother got into a car accident (he's fine).

It's been stressful, though now I'm finally ready to get back in the swing of things. I'm not too happy with this part but I blame the aforementioned reasons for it. It feels choppy and weird but whatever. I'm just gonna hit post and get it done with.

Anyways, yeah, hope you like it!! 💕

Fawn was once again tied to the bed upstairs. Though rather than being able to lay on it, their hands were bound behind their back, tied to the bedpost as they sat on their knees. They’d spent hours trying to desperately break free, though it was all for naught. All that they were left with were sore, bruised wrists, embedded with rope marks. Not to mention how bad their knees hurt, unable to switch positions.

They were so sick and tired of everything. Of being angry, scared, fatigued, and hurt. Constantly fighting between their beating, anxiety-ridden heart and their uncaring anger. They were more mad at Hunter than anything, but their stupid disorder fought against them. It made them afraid. Afraid when they didn't want to be. If they didn't have anxiety, life would be so much easier.

No being fearful of anything unnecessary. No feeling like you're running a marathon while sitting at home in bed. No nausea or sensation of vomiting. No aches and pains and panic attacks. No fear.

Yet here they were, feeling like they were about to have a heart attack, hands shaking, almost a sensation like they were being set on fire. Like they could feel the blood surging down their arms to their hands. Fear and anger were their least favorite emotions, yet they were the only ones they could feel. They weren't normally so feisty and vulgar. Though despite how much of it they threw at Hunter, they saw right through them.

They saw how soft they really were. How small, fragile, and pathetic. They hated all of it. Being perceived as both mean and feeble. Their fighting was their coping mechanism, the swears, the kicks, the biting back. They hated being perceived as weak.

Soft, yes. But that doesn't mean weak.

Most people don't get that.

Though now, they were tired of being strong. In this moment, they were weak. They loathed it. They wanted to fight back, and cry, but nothing ever changes when they do because to Hunter it means nothing. Now here they were, on their knees in a dark cold room waiting for Hunter to do God knows what to them.

Fawn was a lot like Hunter in the sense that they just wanted to be left alone. Fawn wanted to go back to their new old home, back to the animal shelter, back to working a simple daylight job at the gas station. Keeping to themself, nature, and animals. Not being perceived at all.

Unfortunately, that was merely just a wish. The door to a room creaked open, light entering from the hall as Hunter stood in the doorway. Fawn refused to look at them. A tense moment was held in the air as neither made a sound, Hunter just standing there while Fawn kept their head down. After a while, Hunter stepped into the room.

“So,” they said, “you think you can rummage through my things and destroy them? Tear them to shreds?”

“They weren’t your things. They were missing posters.” Fawn grumbled in discontent, still keeping their head down. Hunter grabbed their hair and forced them to look up, smacking them harshly across the face with their other hand.

“You are in no place to be talking black to me, especially not right now! You wanna destroy my fucking things? Then I’ll destroy you right back.” They said, a growl to their tone. They untied the rope from the bed post and yanked them to their feet, grabbing onto their arms.

"Grrr, let go of me!" Fawn yelled and kicked as Hunter tightened the grip on their fragile arms, pushing them out of the room as they hopelessly fought.

“No, you need to be taught a lesson.”

"No! No I don't! Fuck you!"

“Yeah, yeah. Keep yelling. That’ll help.”

Hunter dragged them to a chair, roughly throwing them down on it, almost knocking it backwards from the force.

"Every other time I've hurt you, it's because I've needed to help you out of something you caused. You stepped into my trap, so I took you into my home and fixed your leg. You break my window, so I pick out the pisces and give you stitches. You get sick because you’re a weak little baby, so I take care of you out of the kindness of my heart.” They said semi-sarcastically, “But now I'm afraid it's time for you to face some true consequences."

“Oh yeah, like fucking what?” Fawn growled, “Do your fucking worst, I don’t care. Fucking shoot me. Kill me like hunters are supposed to do with their prey. Fucking end me, you coward.”

“Oh, darling little fawn, we’re in far too deep for me to do that now. No, I’ve grown to quite like you. It gets lonely all the way out here, and I find you to be entertaining. You aren't going anywhere, I’m afraid. But you are going to listen to me. My cabin, my rules.”

Hunter took off their belt, folding it, the leather wearing and peeling off of it. Fawn glared at them, their eyes slowly widening.

"Hm, what's going through that pretty little head of yours? Relax, if I wanted to do that to you, I would've done it already." Hunter said, approaching them, proceeding to slap them across the face with it. "Besides, I wouldn't want to fuck something that acts like a bratty child."

"If being a bratty child is the only thing keeping your creepy hands off me, I'll gladly keep it up." Fawn said, not even reacting to the slap.

“Keep my hands off you, yes. But not my belt.” They hit them again.

“You know what I meant.” Fawn grumbled, then kicked them in the legs. “Get away from me.”

“You’re in no position to be making demands at me.”

“Or fucking what? You’ll smack me with the belt again? Yeah, yeah. Been there, done that a thousand times. You’re supposed to be some serial killer, aren’t you? You're really fucking shitty at it.”

Hunter pulled their hair, "You wanna act like a brat? Then you can get punished like a brat. Is that the game you want to play? You wanna play that game? Because I can.”

“Oh, yeah, sure, spank me like a child, why don’t you. That’ll teach me a lesson.”

“I don’t appreciate your sarcasm.”

“Yeah well I don’t appreciate being tied up and held hostage by some strange feral person in the middle of the woods, so I guess we’re even.”

Hunter yanked them up on their feet and threw them over the table so fast and unexpectedly that Fawn yelped. Just as quickly as that happened, they felt their pants get yanked down, and a belt roughly lashed against their bare skin.

"Ah! What— what are you doing?"

"What do you think I'm doing? Act like a child and I'll spank you like one." They brought the belt down again.

Fawn's face blushed red in embarrassment. This was humiliating. It wasn't a sexual spanking, rather they were being spanked like they were a misbehaving kid. It felt like their childhood all over again. Being hit and spanked by their parents for the most trivial of things.

They'd just finally gotten away from it.

Now they were right back where they ran away from.

“What’s the matter? I thought you said this would be like nothing, didn’t you?” Hunter taunted.

“Y-you— you can’t just spank another adult and have it not be weird!”

“Hey, you’re the only one making it weird. Why? Do you like being spanked?” Hunter teased, and brought the belt down harder. Fawn jerked and let out a surprised squeal. Hunter chuckled darkly. "I think you do."

"Shut the hell up." Fawn nearly cried. The tone was cracked and scared, not angry. "Stop it. Stop it! I'm not a child, stop it, I'm not— you shouldn't— you can't punish me!"

"Then stop acting like one. That's the point. Because you're a child. It's not my fault you're a freak who likes being hit."

"I do not like it!"

"Yeah, sure. Maybe not by me, but you do. You're clearly humiliated though, which was the goal. So it works."

Fawn shut their mouth and stayed quiet as Hunter talked and hit them. As if they couldn't make their embarrassment any worse, their brain, throat, and tongue plotted against them, as they involuntarily pleaded, "Mom, stop."

"Aww, am I reminding you of mommy? Were you spanked as a kid? How sad." They condescended, hitting them harder. “Childhood traumas that turn into adulthood kinks, how unfortunate for you.”

“No… you... you don’t remind me of my mother.” Fawn said sadly, “You’re far too nice for that.”

Hunter was about to bring the belt down again, but the statement surprised them, causing them to hesitate, bringing it down in a light tap, rather than a spank.

Hunter grumbled to themself under their breath, then said, "Fine. You're done. For now." They untied their hands and threw them onto the floor, "Now pull up your pants and get out of my sight. I think you should spend some time alone, be sure to think of me in the process, though."

"Fuck you. Pervert." Fawn spat, and Hunter left.

They were so mad at themself. How that turned them on. They knew it wasn't their fault, it was just a bodily reaction, but still. They were being spanked by their captor, just like their mother used to do. That shouldn't turn them on!

They were frustrated in more ways than one, and wanted to rip their hair out. It wasn't supposed to be sexual. Yet here they were, feeling assaulted and ashamed.

This was not their fucking fault. This was not the consequences of their actions. They wouldn't let Hunter manipulate them with their bullshit. Won’t let them groom them into thinking they’re some kind of authority figure.

They’d sooner wish for the apocalypse then to be subservient to them.

You're all gonna see a turning point for Hunter the next few chapters, so I hope you're ready for some focus on them. Also this part wasn't originally supposed to get a bit sexual, but that's just where it ended up when I wrote it. Hope it's okay, it's my first time ever putting out anything nsfw so I'm a little bit nervous 😅

Taglist: @parasitebunny @whumpy-wyrms

Lmk in the comments if you want added or removed !

Thank you for reading ! 💕🦌

#fawn and hunter #whump #whump blog #whump community #whumpblr #my writing #whump writing

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