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butchhamlet · 3 years

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Can i get your hamlet thoughts? both about the play and its themes in general and the character? Especially on hamlet/horatio and hamlet/ophelia?

hell YES you can. have some assorted hot takes which i did not organize at all. tw for some suicide mentions

[particularly for this bullet point] ...because it’s a suicide play. june sent me a really interesting article once and idk... i think of all the plays i’ve read it deals most directly w suicide and i know hamlet objectively doesn’t kill himself but i think he knew what he was doing

i also think it’s hugely about generational differences! i know there’s a lot of debate about hamlet’s age (and personally i am FIRMLY in the ‘hamlet is sixteen and just fucked up really bad’ category, like, pry that from my cold dead hands <3) but i think no matter how old hamlet is there should be a very clear disconnect between the younger & older generations. this is a play about parents not understanding their children

among other things, i mean, hamlet’s a play about everything -

i think we should talk about hamlet’s relationship to religion more. i do not say this because i have a complex relationship with religion myself or anything. i’m uninvested in this personally

hamlet was mentally ill before his father died, he just hid it really really well up until then + the symptoms manifested differently and not so debilitatingly

specifically hamlet has ocd

that one i can’t even pretend to be uninvested in but it’s also just a fact and i swear to god i will make that post on it someday

like he just. he JUST does i’m sorry. the way he thinks? the way he talks through his own thoughts? the constant doubt and inability to make a decision? he JUST does have ocd i don’t make the rules

i hate polonius i think he’s a fucking bastard and a terrible parent

i really like “king hamlet SUPER sucked” interpretations and i’ll admit i kind of like claudius if only because he is so fucking funny as a character. no morals + horny

gertrude is one of the most fascinating characters in the play and is CRIMINALLY underutilized and underanalyzed especially in her parallels w ophelia. also if you tell me hamlet wanted to fuck her i get to mince you

hamlet x horatio is peak im sorry it just is. it JUST is. it’s about the mutual respect & the seeing each other as people beyond social class and their vastly different circumstances & the way that horatio is the only one who can still joke around with hamlet after his father’s death

that said i very much want to think that before hamlet’s father died, their relationship was more... equal? if that makes sense? bc i think horatio tends to bend to hamlet in the canon of the text, and he tends to put hamlet’s needs before all else, and that’s completely understandable seeing as hamlet’s dad died literally two months ago and now he’s in a mental illness spiral with his horrible horrible family. but under more normal circumstances i want to believe horatio is less... self-carelessly selfless and actually calls hamlet on shit when necessary

thinking about hamlet and horatio pre-canon being roommates at wittenberg and sometimes kissing while they study latin declensions or whatever the fuck... this gives me brain damage. don’t talk to me </3

i think ophelia and hamlet are FAR more interesting when considered as foil characters rather than lovers. like i’m not saying i don’t think they should have a romance (i think it’s interesting to explore) but i just think they are so much more interesting when looked at in terms of the way they mirror each other over and over again

particularly in regard to the fact that they both lose fathers & they both at least consider suicide

and maybe my seeing them as foils is even part of the reason i don’t particularly... ship them? (at least not in canon.) because i HAVE to wonder if ophelia’s madness and suicide are influenced by hamlet’s madness, performance or not. and i have to wonder how things might have gone differently if they hadn’t both spiraled at the same time yknow

that said. outside of canon / in an au where hamlet isn’t so actively destructive to the people around him... horatio/hamlet/ophelia as an ot3? god tier

i know hamlet is four hours long. i know. i still think cutting horatio and/or fortinbras is a mortal sin

i think hamlet hooked up with everyone his age in that play but he had messy breakups with everyone except horatio

yes this includes fortinbras

hamlet’s not real as a character, like, he’s infinitely interpretable on PURPOSE and it’s very hard to pin down more than a few concrete character traits for him (especially because we never see him before his father dies) which is why we all kin him

that SAID. when i made my post about that macy said smthn really insightful in the tags which was that hamlet’s not real on a TEXTUAL level but he should be real in a production, like, there are infinite ways to characterize him but if you’re actually... playing him... you have to pick one... if HAMLET in hamlet is boring you’re doing it fucking wronggggg

hamlet is trans. “what flavor of trans” literally any flavor of trans makes his relationship to his father & his misogyny 10x more interesting. goodbye

points at him. bottom

#max.txt #im so sorry for how disorganized this is..... i just Started #and my hands took me here #i hope this is at least a little in the ballpark of what you hoped for <3 #hamlet #asks #Anonymous

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lost-in-wond3rland · 3 years

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I’m not quite sure what this mood is, but I don’t think I like it much. No surprise I turn to writing while listening to Might*U by Yuki Hayashi at this moment. Suppose I’ve always been a writer by trade, though I have some things to work on. Calling myself a writer has always seemed very...over confident? To me. I do have a BA in creative writing though so, I suppose I earned the title by this point. I went to school and payed for the fancy paper after all.

I ordered some groceries from target to make myself dinner but picked up a coffee on the way home and managed to kill my own appetite. Oops. The coffee is good though. Vanilla Sweet Cream Cold Brew with the sweet cream already mixed in and Sweet Cold Foam on top from Starbucks. It’s my favorite. I paid for the car behind me too. Thought it would make me feel better, so really I was being selfish. I hope they smiled about it though. I’ve always wanted to do that anyway.

If you’re doing something nice to make yourself feel good or better, I wonder, does that not make you selfish too? Because in the end, I guess you’re not doing it for them, but for you. Even if you’re not expecting anything. This thought has been floating around in my head for a day or so now. I have been called selfish before, so. Maybe this adds to it. Who knows.

I should probably just go to therapy versus typing out random nonsense on tumblr. But therapy costs money and involves me leaving my house. Writing on tumblr, now that I can do at any point while at home in my Bakugou sweatpants. #Priorities right?

I wonder if coffer at 730-8pm was actually a bad idea. Probably honestly. But I drank pretty much all of it at this point and at least I got a grande (medium) and not a venti (large). I guess the only bad part is that it makes my brain become terribly awake while in general I just feel kind of numb? Not good, not bad, just. Hollow. Disconnected. Like I don’t exist at all.

I’ve been trying to catch up with the BNHA manga. Im on volume 12. I should finish that volume before I go to sleep tonight. I’ll try to do that. Not a lot of things make me happy or catch my attention lately, but that does. But sometimes I procrastinate doing that too. I was off today, so I had the whole day to read. I couldn’t even tell you what I did today besides take a 2 hour nap at some point. I finally got hangers to clean my room tomorrow though so there’s that. Fuck it, maybe I’ll even do it tonight. Or maybe I’ll just tell myself I’m going to do it and end up not doing it at all. I’ve accumulated one too many empty soju bottles on my desk though, so I really should give it a good clean. I think I need to flip my mattress again too. It keeps moving and my pillows fall through the gaps. It wasn’t doing that before.

Anyway. There is no point to this post outside of the fact that it was something to keep me occupied, if only for a moment. Maybe I’ll go and start working on this new project idea I thought of and outlined today (RIP the other two projects I have, will they ever be resurrected?! The world may never know. I should probably revisit the first though, considering it’s over 100pages but also- who knows).

Perhaps I’ll force myself to eat after my coffee. Or maybe I’ll read BNHA vol 12. Or maybe I’ll just go to sleep (because yes, I can actually go to sleep directly after having coffee. It’s a talent really). The world is my oyster I suppose (I spelled oyster wrong thrice before I realized there was a y in it, oops).

Anyway if you read this for whatever reason, Hello.

If you read this and I know you personally, no you didn’t.

Happy Monday.

#journal

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a-method-in-it · 3 years

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Trans(masculine) former Potterhead here! I still own the books, were a gift, a hardcover set from my mom from years ago. I even made a parody of Im a Lumberjack and I'm OK from Monty Python as I'm a Hufflepuff and I'm OK and helped found a Dumbledore's Army club at my High School I loved HP so much, I was obsessed, but now I have so many mixed emotions about the franchise I don't really know what to do.

I cannot speak for trans women, but as a queer trans person, if I see someone reading the books or watching the movies or wearing merch its like. Ok. I know I might get along with this person, they like the same stuff I (used to) like....BUT do they know how the werewolf thing is about AIDS, implying gay people are out of control monsters, and how the only villain with werewolfism specifically targets minors, implying pedophilia is a trait inherent in gay people? Do they know that when a trans woman reads the books they worry they wont be "woman enough" to keep the stairs in the girls dorm from turning into a slide, because they know that the author specifically thinks they don't deserve to sleep in the girl's dorm because of their gentials? Do they understand that JK Rowling's opinions are there, insidiously rooting into young minds? Are they reading this critically? Or do they support what JK is saying? Do they know all of these things and not care about it, dismiss it out of hand?

Does this person want me dead?

It boils down to a Feeling of Unease. Is this person safe for me to be around? There is a Very Real Danger that the person in the Ravenclaw Shirt and Golden Snitch Earrings is going to call the police on a trans woman going to the bathroom, or beat her, or even kill her, because the author of their favorite series has convinced them trans women are men in dresses and that men in women's bathrooms are dangerous. That person could also be a nice genuine nerd, queer themselves, even potentially a friend, but now I am Suspicious of that person. I am suspicious of anyone who openly enjoys it (unless they are children, kids don't know better, or if they have a tattoo, idk how old that tat is). They want to read it at home and want a discussion on new themes and how to make it better/less gross? Fine by me.

But if someone is publicaly supportting her, staying extremely active in the fandom defending the books or movies or JK herself, having and wearing merch which could direct new people (probably kids! Who will get Obsessed! And don't know better!) into buying things from her and giving her money? After all that she's done? After she literally helped create legislation against being trans?? Not cool.

The series is just simply tainted for a lot of trans folk like me. I still hold it dear foe what it did for me as a child, and I know if I read the series again I would still love it, but I would also HATE myself for enjoying it, knowing that the person who wrote this, the bit of her soul which she has given me, wants me dead. Wants my friends dead.

So I'm not really saying if you support HP publicaly people will see you as a TERF but I am also absolutely saying that people will see you as a TERF if you publicaly support the HP franchise. Death of the author is well and good when the author is dead and/or their estate doesn't get any money for new books or merch purchased, but she is alive and actively trying to kill trans folks, so literally anything that could be seen as support of her, or get others to support her even accidentally, can make trans folk uncomfortable and feel unsafe.

Hope this helped? I know I'm not the original asker, this is just my two cents.

Hi there! Thank you for posting this lengthy and very thoughtful response (and I hope you don’t mind my answering publicly -- if so, let me know and I’ll delete). There is one (admittedly very long) thing I’d like to say in response, but if you’re not looking for that, just know that I really value hearing your perspective and you can feel free to skip all of this and carry on your way.

---

You say that you would probably enjoy the books if you reread them, but would hate yourself for doing so -- and I just want to say that what you like does not make you a bad person or act as any valid basis for deserving hate, from yourself or anyone else.

Like, for instance, I’m a person who cannot stand horror movies and I am genuinely confused that anyone would enjoy watching terrible things happen to people for 90+ minutes. But I would never say that people who like horror movies are bad people just because they do enjoy that. The same goes for violent video games -- I don’t like them, but I don’t think the people who do are bad.

Because what media you personally enjoy has really no bearing on whether you are a good person. Being a good person is about how you treat others, whether you are kind, whether you are patient, whether you are understanding, whether you help people when you can and show up for the people in your life when they need you. It has nothing to do with whether you like a particular book or movie or videogame.

So if you do want to reread those books because you think they would bring you joy, I hope that you do.

Long before she became a TERF -- (and for the record, I don’t think that she was actively and consciously transphobic at the time when she was writing the books, for the simple reason that most of the people who are TERFs today weren’t at that point) -- I had already gotten used to tuning out Rowling and her fondness for Word of God pronouncements.

Like, Dumbledore being gay actually fit into the canon very well, but others? They just felt tired and not thought-out and her whole short history of American magic was incredibly lazy. The werewolfism=AIDS thing was offensive in very real ways--and also it should be noted just does not make sense as a metaphor. Not just because AIDS will kill you and being a werewolf will not and there’s no way to bridge that fundamental disconnect -- but also because the way people talk about being a werewolf in the damn books doesn’t resemble at all the way people talk about AIDS patients in real life. Which makes me think she didn’t actually mean for it to be a metaphor when she wrote it and then years later threw it out there because it sounded good to her in the moment because she hadn’t thought it through.

By the time we got to wizards shitting on the floor because she very clearly forgot that she had already had chamber pots referenced in the text, I was long-since tapped out.

Which is all just to say that it is beyond fair for you to use being a fan of Harry Potter as a data point in gauging your safety as a trans person -- but if we’re talking just about you enjoying the books?

Well, in that case, fuck Rowling and her weird post-canon comments that half the time don’t even make sense. If she wanted trans girls to not be allowed up the stairs to the girls’ dormitory, she should have put it in the damn text. As far as I’m concerned, trans girls and trans boys are allowed up whichever staircase matches their sense of themselves (and, I like to think, nonbinary kids get the run of the whole tower).

In fact, as far as I’m concerned, she lost the right to have me care what she says about the Harry Potter universe when all of her comments started being unbearably lazy, asinine, and/or nonsensical. If she’d been half this uninspired and careless when writing the actual books, I would have stopped reading them.

This has been a very long reply on that single point, but I want to end by saying that the point is, even if I accepted the premise that liking the Harry Potter books is in and of itself wrong -- and I hope I’ve made something of a case that it’s not -- it still shouldn’t be something you hate yourself over. Short of actually murdering people, I’m not sure there’s anything that’s grounds to outright hate yourself, honestly, but liking a book is definitely not on the list.

Either way, you seem like a lovely person, one who is very thoughtful and has been very patient and generous with your time in writing all of that out. I hope that you find ways to also be a little more patient and generous with yourself -- about Harry Potter or any other topic -- because you deserve that and you do not deserve to be hated by anyone, least of all yourself. And I also hope you have a good rest of your night.

#method speaks #jk rowling discourse #but this my friends #i think #is the end of it for me for a while #she sucks #on multiple levels #the transphobia being the worst #and then just going right on down the list #it confuses me #that the woman who wrote Prisoner of Azkaban #became this #but life is strange #and here we are #theflowerpunknerd

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unravelling-the-world · 3 years

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random thoughts related to kagepro (tw for depression?? death?? suicide ?? implied ?? im not sure and idk what else read at ur own risk)

well idk lately ive been thinking a lot and ik ive uh always (? since i can remember?) have been depressed (i mean...it started around age 12...i dont really remember much before that. most of what i remember are bad moments anyways. or very specific scenes. but they dont feel mine. if that makes sense. its like remembering the scene from a movie. back on track i guess idk well lately ive realized i actually kin some characters and lately ive...been relating a lot to shintaro kisaragi fromkagepro. i mean its ok. there´s always been that specific similarity in us (after all, how many characters in anime are as related to coca cola as shintaro //and me,,im literally a coca cola addict lmao// well anyways. after some days, this lead me to thinking...to a hidden memory within my brain, i guess. I remember introducing my then best friends, to kagepro. one told me haha he´s like u bc the coca cola!! and i think i just laughed and smiled? i truly didn´t see it? i was sad sure, but i couldnt really relate to him. after all, i was the leader of my own little group of 12 year old weebs,right? (i was also 12 btw) i didnt personally dislike shintaro but i didnt rly see myself in him yknow? also i have loved ayano from ever since i have memory so idk like she´s one of my biggest comfort characters and its weird bc if she was ´´real´´ idk if i could date her or anything but im just glad she exists bc it somehow comforts me a lot yeah anyways ayano essay for another time lol. anyways at this age my favorite characters in kagepro were ayano and konoha ( i still love them a lot) thing is, at this point in my life i didnt know/wasnt aware i was transgender but i already kinda liked he/him pronouns so i roleplayed a lot. online. i roleplayed as konoha obviously lmao and actually one of my irl friends related to shintaro ?? and i think we may have roleplayed lmao and stuff.... she even had a facebook account named shin hikkikomori or smth like that. anyways fast forward bc after being 12 a lot of stuff happened obviously. and none of that relates to kagepro until quite some time. i will mention some items that dont really relate to kagepro but marked moments in my friend group that may be relevant later on. Around 2016)? Some of my closest friends changed schools (but we kept contact) yet i still had a big group at school. But it got fragmented along the way. 2017 i went to Japan and formed a new, different friend group with people that even today, are dear to me. When i came back, my friend group fragmented more. I kept contact with other members of the old group but one on one, not as a group anymore. 2018 we graduated, and i broke up my realtionship with one of my former best friends (2016-2018) 2019 was a year of change, and even though i was afraid and shit got weird, i was not doing too bad. i will skip that. Well. Im sure we all know 2020 was a trainwreck, shit happened. i had a villain arc. I lost my shit,definetely. Ups, downs, whatever. 2021 has not been too different. However, even through everything, in early 2020, i kept close relationships with my friend group. as the year moved forward and the restrictions started lifting ( thank you government very cool <3 //ironically obviously, this is the reason this shit wont go away//) some of my friends saw each other irl and stuff, or talked about stuff i didn´t understand/didn´t want to hear while on discord. I felt alienated. I felt empty. I got mad at a friend for the first time, for something he said. I ended up isolating myself. A friend celebrated her birthday. She invited me and never excluded me, asked me a lot of things and asked to virtually include me. But that would just make me feel more alienated, wouldn´t it? I told her it was ok, i didn´t go. Honestly, I felt like a bother. I didn´t want to bother. I wasn´t okay, but i didn´t want to bother anyone, so i isolated myself. I had a very bad breakdown. lasted weeks. When I recovered, it wasn´t the same. It felt like everyone else was closer, while i drifted away. I kind of recconected with some of my friends from Japan after this. In the vacations, i felt like i reconnected with some friends just to drift away again later. However, i never could reconnect with one of my best friends. She never really got mad at me or anything ( i think) but we don´t really talk much anymore. We used to talk daily, be it actual talking, memes, anything. I don´t think we´ve actually talked in weeks. There´s nothing I can do. This year, another friend had a birthday, but I was so disconnected from everyone I didn´t even care. I mean. It´s all broken now, isn´t it? The other day I just started wondering. When did I start relating to Shintaro so much? I had always been like this, hadn´t I? Who am I, actually? Why do I relate so much now? It´s not just about the soda. I had lost friends before, but I never really felt like that. Sometimes I feel like I´ve lost everyone. In a one year span I became a hikkikomori. About a month ago, when I entered classes, I was recognized as Shintaro pfp and I admitted to kinning him to people i´d never talked to before (on chat) // I decided to go apeshit idc anymore about what anyone thinks of me// I had fun. I think I must´ve posted on my stories, because two different people told me they were the ene to my shintaro. I appreciated it. i mean it´s kinda true bc now that i´m only on the pc they do bother me online and try to get me to open up or get better but sometimes the just annoy me lmao but also not bc they all have their own particular lives and they all seem to be doing better than me. Still, my classmates are very nice and inclusive. But it´s not like im close to any of them I guess. I´m just alone now. I´m fucked up man....I don´t feel real anymore. I don´t really know who I am. I guess that´s why I find comfort in seeing a part of myself in Shintaro? But when did i turn out like this? Why didn´t I relate when I was younger? Well, I hadn´t really lost any friends back then. I now know how painful that is. How lonely it is to be alone even when there is people around. idk. and i´ve always been quiet. introverted. shy. a loser. yet now whenever i meet anyone i try to idk connect? but i cant. i wish i could be more evil. maybe it´d just be easier if everyone really, truly hated me. maybe i´d get the strength to actually kill myself then. it´s weird. i really see myself in route xx shintaro. I know that´s fucked up because I know how it ends. but truly, i was trying. I was healing, i think i was going somewhere. and i was trying to keep my newly formed renovated friend group together. I really was trying to. I didn´t mind if we had sub groups on the big group, but we were all there for each other. I tried my best. I felt like i belonged. but now im alone again. and this time there´s nothing i can do. if something, i´ve made it worse. and i keep making it worse. it´s weird. when i first got into kagepro, both shintaro and ayano felt like adults. i thought they were really, really big. im older than them now. now i know theyre not really adults. i get it. i still feel 18. after all, these last two years have been taken away from me. i didnt waste them myself this time. i feel like a rotten 18 year old...when i listen to lost time memory, i just...get it. i always liked the song. i thought the story was so cool. when it first came out.. i still remember. iwas there. i waited for it. i loved it. i still do, but back then, i just saw it all as some really great and cool song. now i feel like i really, really get it. i love it even more. im hiding away in all my memories. but what is my true heart? what do i really want? i don´t know, i don´t know... If I'm 'wise' then, I can't face forward; I have no reason to so, I'll rot away instead It would be nice if time could be turned back. Years may pass but I'll never die I repeat hopeful words to myself, even though I know I still won't be able to reach you. "It doesn't matter, just die already!" I said as I clutched my wrist, simply cursing it. Unable to do anything, I merely indulged myself in life. "If summer can show me dreams, then let's go to before you were taken away" The days where I hid my embarrassment are illuminating upon the atmosphere and burning my mind. If I'm wishing for a dream that can't come true, then I'll embrace this blurry past and have a dream which I don't wake up from and naturally seclude myself from the outside world. "But that means you can't even see tomorrow?" I don't really care 'bout that, so it's ok I stained my hands in order to kill these boring days I'm choosing "solitude" after all A rotten boy at 18 today too, prayed again while clinging on to your colored smile Underneath the blazing sun Asking "Somehow, please take me away instead of leaving like this!" and my murmuring breath was quietly stopped

I guess i just wish someone could actually help me. take me out of this hole. Maybe some kind of closure would be nice. It´s not the same, though. I don´t have enough bravery in myself to actually kill myself. Mostly because of guilt. I can´t take the guilt of dissapointing everyone. I don´t want my parents to get hurt. I don´t want my bunny to miss me. Yet i wish everyday for it to be over. Lately, half of my dreams have been in Japan, with many friends, some who i met there, some who have never been there. Yet my brain shows me the dreams before it was all taken away. I think one of my favorite parts of the day is dreaming. I like to sleep simply because I dream. And i sleep very few. mayb bc i hate myself? I still barely indulge in life. I do anything to stay distracted. If i think, it all goes to shit. it all does. like now. Heh. it´s funny. I guess no one is truly my ene, because no one actually knows how mentally fucked up i got these past months. No one knows how badly i´ve been treating myself and how badly i´ve been doing. Still, i can´t tell anyone but scream it into the tumblr void. No one has to keep up with my shit. No one has to take care of me. After all, it was I who chose solitude. It was me who kept them away. But I don´t get a second choice. I don´t get a change of routes if things go sour. And i guess I don´t get to get a mentally fucked up friend group where I belong for a second time. Once was good enough, wasn´t it? I.. Even when I wasnt as deep as i am now (again) into kagepro, ive always wanted to die on August 15. It holds meaning to me now as well. Every year I used to ask people to go out with me that day. I know im not brave enough to kill myself. I always hoped for a lil miracle i guess. Last year was the first year...I didn´t do anything. I just... I just hope this year i can make it. I hope the miracle happens this year....I can only hope......its too late for me to be saved, isn´t it? I never thought it´d be like this. I don´t get closure. I don´t get goodbyes. I am left behind on a world that keeps moving. I am nothing.

#long post #hinatalks #we live in a society #fr fr #when i die....if god is real..i´ll end this once and for all. all of it #i am left with nothing but pain and anger.... i cant even feel anymore. i think i forgot how to

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seatawinan · 4 years

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get to know me more! ✨

tagged by @taejooah

✨ what do you prefer to be called name wise?

Sam

✨ when is your birthday?

Dec 25

✨ where do you live?

Philippines

✨ three things you are doing right now?

looking at my notepad with list of gif ideas and being torn which one to do first petting my needy cat while waiting for photoshop to finish its actions add to cart on various items that i’ll probably never buy lol

✨ four fandoms that have piqued your interest right now?

the shipper - just caught up with it so now i have to wait for the next ep! my engineer - i finished it a while back but i just got a copy of it so i have to rewatch and make gifs for this where your eyes linger - every rewatch is like stabbing myself but it feels so goooooood resident evil 4 - yeah it’s a sharp divergence from the first 3, but watching speedruns of this while making gifs is a calming white noise for me, plus this is the first game ive played ever

✨ how is the pandemic treating you?

torn between wanting to be updated with everything and wanting to just disconnect with everything

✨ song you can’t stop listening right now?

why should i be sad - britney spears. i love all her songs, but her “sad songs” are so few and this is my favorite sad song from her. as a bonus im finding a way to sneak this in one of my playlist gifs soon

✨ recommend a movie.

The Prince of Egypt, i can’t get tired of it.

✨ how old are you?

27 (im old, i’ve been on tumblr since 2009!!)

✨ school, university, occupation, other?

unemployed, got laid off before lockdown which is both good and bad i guess

✨ do you prefer hot or cold?

cold

✨ name one fact others may not know about you.

i don’t like any kind of seafood, it tastes horrible to me and makes me vomit. maybe it was bc i ate a pure chili when i was like 4, so it messed my sense of taste??

✨ are you shy?

yes, which is a complete turnaround from when i was in my teens. my way now is just fake it till you make it

✨ do you have any preferred pronouns?

he/him

✨ any pet peeves?

people who start fights online

✨ what’s your favorite “dere” type?

tsundere, i think, i love it when after they’ve confessed their feelings that they have to find the balance between being aloof and not-aloof

✨ rate your life 1-10. 1 being really crappy and 10 being the best you could ever be.

rain check on this lol

✨ what’s your main blog?

holden-caulfieldlings

✨ list your side blogs and what they are used for.

this sideblog for bl fuckyeah-cougartown - for cougar town (yes the title is still off-putting after all these years, but i love that show to death) member of a blog for The Prince of Egypt and How to Get Away with Murder but this was wayyy back in 2015/16

✨ is there anything you think people need to know about you before becoming friends with you?

I’m more of the listener type but i think i retain all that info my friends tell me

Tagging: @maylorswifts and @to-kill-a-mockinggirl (but no pressure) this is holden but posting from this blog lol. seeing you on my dash brigthens up my day

#taejooah i just learned where you live lol #idk i like to guess peoples timezones based on their posts and yours is hard #get to know me meme

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tommybaholland · 5 years

Text

Far From You | Peter Parker x reader

(:((( gif is not mine)

READ “After Ashes” FIRST

Summary: what happens after defeating Thanos?

Word Count: 4K+

warnings: angst, swearing, post-Endgame, ffh spoilers

a/n: phewww finally got this donE...i’ve been thinking about it ever since i saw ffh so im real excited to finally have written it and am now sharing it w you :’). this is also for @plushparker ‘s 2K writing challenge congrats bby!!

Prompt: “I’d never forgive myself if anything happened to you.”

––––––––––––––––––––

“We wait for Mr. Stark to save us.”

And so you waited, you and Peter.

It was pretty agonizing, to say the least. There was nothing to do but wait. You and Peter were completely alone, surrounded by orange.

“How many people do you think are also trapped here?” You asked as you cradled Peter’s head in your lap.

“Thanos said he’d wipe out half of Earth’s population, so a lot,” Peter responded with his eyes shut, enjoying the sensation of your hand playing with his hair mindlessly.

You looked up, scanning the orange horizon, still seeing nothing.

“Where is everyone? It’s just us here,” You noted.

“I’m not sure. Maybe everyone has their own section of the stone,” Peter proposed, opening his eyes to see your reaction.

You smiled, chuckling. “Then it’s kind of a miracle that we got to have our own little section together.”

Peter smiled back, sitting up and turning to lean towards you.

“Yeah, it kind of is,” he agrees.

He leans in slightly to give you a small kiss, with his suit-covered hand on you shoulder while yours came up to cradle the back of his neck.

It was scary, that unknown feeling. You might be gone forever, and never see Ned or MJ or your parents again. Peter may never see May or Tony again. You may never get to experience life, or living, ever again.

It was a hard pill you might have to swallow.

But being alone Peter was enough to get you through it, for now.

Pulling back slowly, you opened your eyes to admire your whole world, smiling at the tiny details around his eyes as you stayed close to one another.

Suddenly Peter looked behind him, as if he were anticipating something.

“Peter? What is it?”

He looked around the orange space, searching for the threat that triggered his senses, the little pulses vibrating throughout his body.

“Something’s...happening,” he voiced before lowering his eyes back to you, making sure you were okay.

You felt something on your hands, tickling in between your fingers. Looking down, your eyes widened as you saw your hands begin to crumble into dust.

“Peter! Wha—what’s—”

Your breaths became heavy as you tried to reach out to him, frantic that you would lose him again.

“I—I,” Peter didn’t know how to respond to what was happening. He watched as tears fell from your eyes, his heart breaking at the sight.

But he wanted to remain calm for you.

“I’ll find you, babe, okay? It’ll be okay. It’s going to be okay. You’re alright,” he soothed, his arms enclosing around you as you nodded.

“Peter,” you sobbed before the remaining parts of you blew away, reduced to nothing but dust.

Peter’s senses continued to pulsate through him, and he waited for something to strike, to explode, to end.

He assumed his attack position, crouched down with a fist pulled back, ready to strike whatever was coming.

“C’mon, Mr. Stark.”

The orange soon began to fade, and Peter let out several short breaths, hyping himself up for the finishing fight with Thanos.

“This is it.”

—

You woke up in a startled panic. Sitting up moments after you opened your eyes, your saw that you were back in your room, laying on your bed.

You surveyed the space, seeing that not much had changed physically, but the atmosphere was almost haunting. All of your belongings were left untouched, unmoved, unloved. Everything seemed normal, but a dull normal.

Getting up from your spot on the bed, you went over to the window to look out at the city. Lights in apartment buildings were on, cars were moving, and the night was still young. It was almost as if you dreamt the whole thing, and at this point you were considering it.

You felt uneasy.

After everything that happened, everything that Peter told you happened, something had to be different. Walking over to your desk, you looked at your pictures on the wall. Pictures of you and your friends, pretty places, you and Peter.

Was Peter any different? Did they actually do it?

Turning back to your bed, you reached over the mattress with haste to grab your phone, the screen lighting up to show the current date.

April 27, 2023

You eyes widened as you clapped a hand on your forehead.

You were gone for five years??!

It seemed like only hours, a school day at most, in the soul stone.

You unlocked your phone, clicking your way to call the last person you saw.

“Please, please, c’mon..”

“Hey, this is Peter! Leav-“

“Fuck,” you swore as you pulled the phone away from your ear, the call disconnecting, your phone shutting off from low battery.

Talk about major deja vu. Except maybe Peter would come back this time. Or maybe you wouldn’t find him in some unfamiliar place as a prisoner to an alien who wanted half of humanity dead only to come back finding out that you’d been gone five years.

You sat on the edge of the bed, staring back up at the wall of photos. You weren’t even looking at them, just staring. You didn’t know what to do with yourself. The desensitization kicking in, you passed time easily and quietly.

You eventually decided to exit your room to see if your parents were there or not. You didn’t even know if they had been in the stone with you. You had no way of knowing who was there with you. Turns out they had been snapped too, leading to you explaining everything you knew about what happened.

After catching up with your parents, you went back in to your room, you intentions set on sleeping on it. Upon opening your door, you flinched as you discovered Peter, who was sitting on the edge of your bed just as you had done earlier.

“Peter!”

You exclaimed as he stood up quickly and taking a few steps to meet your embrace, tightly hugging you around the waist. Your cheek felt cool against the surface of his iron suit as you leaned your head on his shoulder.

“Oh my god, what happened? Did you win? Is Thanos gone? Is everyone okay?? Did you know that we were gone for five years?” You threw out a bunch of questions as you released him, getting a good look at him for the first time since he showed up in your room.

He looked like he had just stepped off the battlefield. Messy hair, dirt-smudged face, and glossy eyes adorned his features. He didn’t respond for a few moments, just looking as you as if he was trying to conjure the right words.

“Yeah,” he finally replied, stepping back to reclaim his position on your bed.

“We won. He’s gone.”

You followed his lead, sitting next to him, turning towards him with one knee up on the mattress.

“You don’t...seem too happy about it,” you commented on his forlorn tone.

You placed a hand on his shoulder, trying to get his attention.

“How does it feel to win your first fight as an Avenger?”

You tried to perk him up, not understanding what was causing him so much...anguish.

He turned his head towards, reluctant to meet your eyes.

“He’s gone.”

“Yeah, P, Thanos is gone–“

“No,” he cut you off. You noticed tears surfacing in his eyes, darkening the chocolate brown color of the iris. Fear struck your heart trying to guess what he would say next.

“Mr. Stark is gone.”

You shook your head slightly, somewhat in disbelief.

“Wha-“

“He’s gone, y/n! Mr. Stark is gone. He’s dead! And I-I didn’t–I didn’t—“

“Shh, Peter. It’s okay.” You shushed him, pulling his head down for him to cry into your shoulder.

You smoothed down the hair in the back of his head, your other hand rubbing his back comfortingly.

“It shouldn’t have been him. I should’ve saved him, I should’ve–“

“Shh, it’s okay, babe. I’m sure you did everything you could to help,” you comforted.

It was hard to see him like this, especially when you didn’t know exactly what went down during the final battle with Thanos.

“Baby, let’s clean you up, get you out of this suit and lay down,” you offered, starting to move away from him.

“Noooo,” he whimpered, pulling you closer to him, pressing his face deeper into your shoulder.

“I just want you to hold me.”

“Peter, let’s just lay you down so you can rest, okay?”

Peter nodded into your shoulder, leaning his head up to let you move back to the head of your bed. Peter followed suit, crawling up to the other side of the bed beside you, wrapping your arms around him. You guided him to lay his head down on your chest, right over your heart. His arm was thrown over your waist, the cool metal of his fingers brushing over your hip.

He relaxed, closing his eyes as he listened to the loud thump of your heart, feeling you fingers in his hair once again. You laid there, letting everything sink in, again.

“Dr. Strange said there was only one chance for us to win,” Peter spoke up, his voice hoarse from crying.

“Why did that one chance have to be the one that killed him?”

It broke your heart that Peter watched the person he looked up to the most die. It wasn’t meant to be like this, or maybe it was.

You didn’t know what to say or how to help him. You wish you had powers, and could take away his pain. But for now, all you could do was remain calm for him.

“It’s going to be okay, P.”

—

The next eight months would prove to be tough. On everyone. And starting over the school year after the Snap didn’t help.

However, everyone who was gone adapted rather quickly once they came back. It was weird seeing people, friends and teachers, who survived the Snap and are now five years older. But you and everyone else soon returned to your day-to-day routines, acting almost like nothing happened.

Peter had it the worst.

You didn’t want to go with him to the funeral, wanting to spare yourself of the pain, but he wanted you to be there with him. He held onto your hand throughout the entire service, squeezing it every now and then to make sure you were still there.

You didn’t know Tony too well, only having seen him a few times since he gave Peter the suit he made for him after Peter went to Germany. That was even before you knew he was Spider-Man, before you were dating. You though he was just a regular, nerdy cutie who liked to play with Legos and eat smushed sub sandwiches.

And you still loved all that about him.

But he was gone way too often and you were in way too deep to not figure it out, with the help of MJ.

In a way, Tony brought you two together. Peter would always mention the “Stark Internship” and vaguely how he was working right alongside Tony and the Avengers. And even when his cover was blown, and that ended up to be mostly not true, Peter would still take every chance he could to impress Mr. Stark and protect the city.

Peter was Spider-Man all on his own but meeting the high expectations of Tony Stark was what, he thought, made Spider-Man great and amazing.

For the first few months, Peter was mopey and sad. You didn’t see him as much as you used to, even when you wanted to help him. But you had to admit, it took up a lot of your own energy to see him sad and trying to help him through it.

You really didn’t feel like you were helping at all, and felt more like a burden to him, if anything.

But for the last few months, he had gotten better. That spark in his eyes and the pep in his, now deeper, voice was coming back. He went out to patrol the city more and even made appearances at FEAST shelter charity events that Aunt May hosted.

You knew he was still hurting.

You knew he was trying to distract himself from the unfortunate end for Tony, those images of him dying right before Peter’s eyes.

The school year was ending and the school science trip to Europe was coming up, and Peter couldn’t be more relieved.

“We’re going to have so much fun and see all the famous parts of the world!” He beamed laying next to you one night after going out on his nightly patrols.

You hated to mention it but it was itching at your mind.

“What if someone here needs help while we’re gone, or while we’re on the trip?”

Peter picked his head up off your shoulder, leaning on his elbow to look at you.

“Well...I was thinking…” he began, his eyes shifting from yours. “I’m not gonna take the suit.”

You knew he had been through a rough spot, but you thought he was starting to enjoy having these abilities and using them for good again.

“But you love being Spider-Man.”

“Yeah, I do, babe, but I just need a break. I just want to be Peter Parker, going on vacation and enjoying it with my friends and making out with my beautiful girlfriend at the top of the Eiffel Tower.”

You giggled as he got closer to you, hovering over to bring his lips to yours for a few sweet kisses.

“You’ll always be Peter Parker to me,” you replied, pulling back slightly but still close enough to see the small, minute details of his pretty face.

He smiled and continued to kiss you, enjoying hearing your laugh as his lips tickled your cheek and neck. He thought about all the plans he had for you on this trip, some of which you knew nothing about.

He sold all his Star Wars figurines and memorabilia to make money and buy you a glass blown necklace in Venice with an orchid charm, your favorite flower. He wanted to give it to you in Paris, at the top of the Eiffel Tower, the most romantic spot in the world.

He’s told you ‘I love you’ before but he wanted this time to be special.

Truthfully, he felt like he had neglected you. You were there for him through it all and he wanted you to know that he appreciated that. He really loved you, everything about you.

—

The trip was not going well for Peter.

The first day in Venice was alright and he was somehow able to sneak away for a moment to get the necklace for you. It was prettier than he imagined and it would look even better when he’d put it on you.

So it was going well, until that water monster thing showed up. And if it weren’t for Mysterio, he probably wouldn’t have been able to control the situation without his suit, which May packed, much to his dismay.

Mysterio, or Beck, as Peter knew him, was the only good thing about Nick Fury inserting himself into the vacation.

He understood and praised Peter for being a smart kid who was being bogged down a big responsibility. And you were happy listening to Peter talk about him as you walked together through the streets of Prague, making up for lost time.

“So he had me try on the Edith glasses, right? And he was like ‘They look stupid’ so then I passed them over to him and he put them on and oh my god, y/n! He looked just like him,” Peter exclaimed.

You smiled at his beaming tone, enjoying that he was obviously excited to have another ‘super person’ he could be friends with.

“So then I thought, ‘It’s him’ and I gave Edith the confirmation to let Beck have command of the glasses. Isn’t that great, babe?”

You frowned slightly at the last part. “Why did you give Edith to him, again?”

“Because this is what Mr. Stark wanted me to do! He gave me the glasses so I could find the next Tony Stark. Don’t you see?”

“Peter, I think he gave you the glasses because he wanted you to have them,” you responded.

He seemed to be overthinking it. Why wouldn’t he cherish something that was given to him by someone he cared for a lot?

“I’m not the next Iron Man, y/n, Beck is. He’s the only one who knows how to beat the Elementals, Nick Fury trusts him, he fits the Avengers to a T; he’s perfect!”

You shook your head. “I just, I don’t know about this, P. You haven’t known him for very long and since when does Nick Fury trust anyone?”

“Listen, babe,” he answered, putting his hands on your shoulders. “It’s going to be okay, I have a good feeling about this. And if I didn’t, I would feel it.”

You sighed. “I have something to show you.”

Taking off your backpack that you’d brought, you pulled out a small metal device that had some of Peter’s webs hanging off of it.

You handed it to Peter as you began to explain. “I found it after you knocked it off of that fire thing. I don’t know what it is, but it seems...strange.”

Peter looked at it, thinking it looked like a light or something before it sparked, causing him to drop it. Hitting the ground, the device projected a cloudy, ghost looking monster, similar to the other Elementals.

Peter was confused, trying to put it together in his head.

“I-I don’t understand…”

“Peter...I think all those fights, the Elementals….” you started, getting his attention. “They were fake.”

How could that be? Peter fought them himself, they seemed so real.

“No, no. That can’t be true,” he denied, shaking his head.

“It has to be,” you corroborated. “Why are there projectors falling off of the Elementals? Why do they suddenly surrender when Mysterio shows up? It all makes sense, Peter!”

He didn’t want to believe you, but everything you were saying didn’t make Beck look good. And what made it worse was—

“Oh god.”

Peter trusted him.

—

Peter was left alone, again. But this time he was betrayed by someone he thought he could trust to be like Mr. Stark.

“I’ve gotta get to Berlin,” Peter voiced, frantically tearing his clothes off to put on the ‘night monkey’ suit.

You just stood there in your room, not knowing what to say.

“You were right, y/n,” he admitted as he finished putting on the suit, holding the mask in his hand.

“I shouldn’t have given him the glasses. I’m sorry I doubted you.”

He was closer to you now, a hand caressing the side of your head, brushing some of your hair back.

“It’s okay,” you accepted, grabbing his forearm. “What are you gonna do?”

Peter shrugged slightly. “Try to stop him, I guess? I’ll figure it out once I find Mr. Fury.”

You nodded, not wanting to say goodbye.

“Cover for me and warn the others. I’ll try to get in touch with Happy. I’ll see you soon, okay?”

You nodded again, a quiet confirmation just barely passing your lips. You squeezed his forearm as he leaned in to place a small kiss on your forehead.

He put the mask on, turned and went to the window to jump out of the hotel, taking all your hope with him.

Going to London didn’t feel right. You didn’t know what was going to happen or what was currently happening, but you didn’t feel very good about it. No one really noticed that Peter was gone, excluding Ned and MJ, not even Flash, who was too busy vlogging for his Spider-Man fan account.

It was very cloudy and overcast in the city, looking like a storm was coming. It was getting windier by the second and it wasn’t just because you were on top of a double decker bus. Ned and MJ looked out at Tower Bridge with you, seeing a big cloud start to take shape.

“Is this Mysterio?” Ned asked.

“It must be, but it’s not real.”

You had told them about Mysterio and how he was using drone tech to fake the Elemental attacks.

“Where’s Peter?” MJ questioned.

You looked around the sky, hoping that he would swoop in soon to stop this.

“I don’t know.”

The next ten minutes became increasingly intense as the storm escalated, causing the entire class to exit the bus and run in the opposite direction of the chaos. You looked back as you ran, seeing a small figure fly right into the cloud of drones disguised as an Elemental.

Peter glided into the scene, closing his eyes as he entered the cloud, finding hundreds of drones projecting the illusion. He used the taser webs he built into his custom-made suit to short-circuit the group, effectively stopping the projections.

Peter fought for his life once he found Beck on the bridge. Destroying all his drones in a matter of seconds and stopping a gunshot to his head proved to be a moment of clarity for Peter.

He could trust himself when it came to danger.

“You can’t trick me anymore,” he announced before ripping the glasses off of Beck, putting them on to order Edith to turn off the drones.

He watched as the drones retreated, flying back to wherever they came from. He sighed, finally able to take a breath and feeling exhausted after actually fighting something. Looking out at the real damage on the bridge he noticed a person standing in the middle of all the debris. He made the figure out to be you, seemingly looking around for him.

“y/n…”

He was about to make his way down when he noticed two drones flying towards you from both sides. His eyes widened as he saw they were going to meet in the middle right where you were standing.

“Y/N!”

He jumped on top of the handrail in front of a broken window. He didn’t have any web fluid left in his web shooters as he flung himself from the window, trying to glide down to grab you.

He screamed out for you, trying to get your attention to move. He didn’t want to accept that he wasn’t going to make it in time. The drones collided with each other, causing a big explosion that threw him back further down the bridge.

He landed in some debris, coughing to quickly get up and see the aftermath. Once the smoke had cleared, he saw your body on the ground, not moving.

“Oh no, y/n!”

He ran as fast as he could over to you, punching his way through anything that was in his way.

“Oh my god, y/n.”

He reached you, dropping to his knees as you coughed, barely conscious. There was a large gash on the side of your head, blood flowing out. Peter cradled your head as you spoke hoarsely.

“Peter…”

“No, y/n, no, no, no.”

Tears filled up in his eyes, getting more hysterical as your eyes started to droop closed.

“Babe, no. You’re-You’re alright, it’s going to be okay,” he sniffled. “No, y/n, please. You’re okay, just, p-please.”

He was fully crying now, leaning down to cry over your lifeless body.

“Peter?”

His ears perked up as he straightened up, looking back to see you walking towards him.

“y/n?”

“No, no, no. Stop,” Peter held his hand up at you.

“This is another trick. You’re not real, you’re-you’re dead!” Peter acknowledged, gesturing to your body laying on the pavement.

“Peter, this isn’t a trick, it’s really me,” you spoke.

“Prove it. Tell me something only you would know,” he whimpered, distressed.

You held out your hand, opening up your palm to reveal the necklace.

“Happy gave this to me,” you explained. “He said that you were going to give it to me. Is that true?”

Peter was breathing heavily and nodded, too tired to speak.

“It is you…”

He looked back to find the dead you gone, confirming that was the illusion. He looked back to you, who stepped closer to him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

He pulled you into his arms, burying his bloody and tear-stained face into your shoulder.

“I love you, y/n,” he spoke into your shoulder, words coming out muffled.

“I’d never forgive myself if anything happened to you.”

You pulled away from him, about to respond when he kept talking.

“I had this whole plan to give you that at the top of the Eiffel Tower but that didn’t happen because of….everything and I wanted to show how much I love you and appreciate you. I’m sorry it was ruined, guess I can’t just be Peter Parker…” He trailed off, lowering his eyes from your expression.

“No, you can’t,” you replied, meeting his eyes. “I told you, you’re always going to be Peter Parker to me, and that includes Spider-Man. I love you, Peter, all of you.”

He smiled at your response, his eyes still slightly glossy from crying. He leaned in, holding you close to him as you shared a short but passionate kiss with enough love to last a lifetime.

—

And that all happened about a week ago.

Now you stood outside of your apartment, waiting for Peter to come get you so you could have date night. You figured you both deserved it, given what a disaster the trip came to.

You phone suddenly vibrated in your hand, signaling a call from Peter, which was odd considering you had just been texting him.

“Hey, babe. Are you coming?”

“Y/N! Ohmygod…”

“Peter, what’s wrong?” You questioned his frantic tone.

“I was swinging through the neighborhood to come get you when...Beck—”

“Mysterio? I thought he was dead!” You interrupted.

“So did I!” Peter agreed. “But he filmed a video of himself before I got to him on the bridge..or somethings, accusing me of all these bad things…”

“Oh, Peter…”

“And then he-he…” Peter paused, in disbelief that he was going to say it aloud.

“What did he do, P?”

“Revealed my identity.”

“He wHAT?!!?” you exclaimed, clapping a hand to your forehead.

“The whole world knows I’m Spider-Man.”

You and Peter really can’t seem to catch a break.

—

A/N: should i write another part and make some shit up or shall we wait two more years so i can write something based off what they do next with our sticky boi??

<3 tommybaholland

what will happen to peter and y/n?? (feedback much appreciated)

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butch-bakugo · 4 years

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This is a vent post. Dont read it if you are in a bad mental place or value the unwavering stone butch image i want to be. Shits personal and abit graphic.

I know i was abused by my parents growing up. I know my dad abused me in nearly every facet he could. I know my mom verbally and mentally abused me so bad that she never had to physically hurt me to make me hurt myself. I know its a blessing to be out of my dad's house and in my mom's, even of she is torn on defending my fathurs actions with his shitty past and carrying a burden herself for accidentally creating an environment where he could continue to abuse me and i had to learn he was abusive the hard way.

But yesterday, when i went to see a therapist and layed all of it out on the table. Watching his reactions to the little and big things i said, it made me remember just how bad it all was. Just how disconnected i am from what happend to me for so long. How im able to describe and relay my feelings and all these horrifying things i went through without crying or feeling much at all.

I know im not feeling much emotion these days unless its turned up waaayy over the way it should be( if im feeling sad, im so depressed i cant move. If im feeling frustrated, im crying, screaming and throwing things. If im lovey, im so in love and trusting im terrified. If im scared or nervous, im paranoid in my kitchen holding a knife for an hour because i thought i saw a murderer or a demon outside.) Its never in between where It should be and ive scared people. I feel like all of high school i was running from a car, it hit me a few times and broke legs i still had to run on and destroyed me internally. Then once i graduated from high school, i thought the car had left, then it hit me from the front and now my guts are splatter across the road.

Im cut in half and i cant feel anything. But thats the thing, no ambulance came. No one called 911 or reached out to me other than one girl whose so desperately trying to piece me back together but shes no nurse, she can only stall. Like i was a piece of road kill for the next car to crush again, with just a few cars never stopping, just swerving to avoid disrespecting the already dead or getting my blood on their tires.

Im sleeping too much, im tired constantly. My focus is practically non-existant and im late for everything. My energy sky rockets then dies. My back, head and stomache hurt all the time in one way or another, wither its pain shooting up my spine, a migraine, puking or all of it at the same time. Im broken and i feel like i could never be fixed. The pieces of my body scattered into nothing across the pavement, little more than dust now.

I wish it was over. I wish id get some kind of justice. I wish it had never happend in the first place. I wish i had died before i got my reason to live in my life. I wish i could put the bitch who dealt the final blow and my fucking fathur in prison for their crimes. It feels like only a matter of time before something ends me. I play spin the wheel to wonder what'll get me today. Will it be my scorned fathur? How about the crazy abusive ex? Mother who cant stand having me as her child? Will it be me? How about my sister? My own gf? Old friends? Family? Creepy Co-workers? Trust means nothing in the face of paranoia. Everyone is out for blood in my eyes. No where is safe. No food or drink is safe. No one is to be trusted. Nothing is ever secure and im moments from crumbling. The only thing that allows me to function past this crippling paranoia is morbid. A complete lack of self worth. I feeling of deserving such a fate. Like i deserve to die at their hands for being the burden on them.

I must be a monster to have deserved the fate ive recieved. I must of deserved my abuse if im still even barely functioning. I must be faking. Im never worthy of good or rest, always such a liar to myself i must lie to others so they wont like me and get dragged into my pit of dispair and so they do not become attached to someone days from leaving. Thats unfair to them. Then how could i trust that they would even care to begin with? The hopeful mummbling of the doomed i suppose.

Dont like me. Dont follow me. Dont get attached in any way to me. Please. Despise me and leave. Its only best for you and i if you leave me in the dust behind you. Dont get out of your car. I wont blame you if you run over me too and ill appriciate you swerving to lessen my pain. Im moments from death and theres no one who could truely save me. Not even a vet. Its best you dont get attached to me. Dont give me a name and do not look at my face. I dont want to haunt you. I dont want my body splattered to be in your memories. I beg of you... I dont want my existance to be another persons bad memory... Dont look at me

#dont reblog this #dont reblog #comment like or send an ask if your concerned im not asking for attention #i just wanted to let off some steam and be able to say i told someone about it even if i really didnt #im safe too dont worry im not in a serious suicidal place #im not tw any of the post so tumblr can snap it #but i warned in the beginning so id say thats enough

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lostinathoughtonceagain · 4 years

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Im not sure where to start although i feel like i alwyas start with that.My mom says i seem to be doing alot better and inn truth i am. I feel more myself and joyous and mre personality, and than theres still an emptiness that creeps in. The sort of weird shame feeling i used to get in mornings or without a shirt on, i got it today after grabbing clothes from my moms. maybe this is just a personal issue but im trying not to isolate myself in my emotions. TI appreicate and find it hard to understand the idea of common humanity. It is true humans all epereince these emotions and it is only to ones disadvantage when we tell ourselves were the only ones who have ever felt these emotions. In truth we are the only ones who experience things given we all have different perspectives, childhoods, personalities, and biology of our brains.. yet i think that an important to try to find the common humanity. empathy, relating to one another. we are more alike than we are different. YOu know when your on the freeway and you wonder where are all these people going. Myabe some are picking up there kids, going to a booty call, stopping to grab bananas at the store, and we wont ever know, everyone is all doing there own thing, eveyone is jsut driving just going to work doing things and im wo dering if anyone else is freaked out about what is happening. Why the hell are we here?n why iseveryone not freaking out with the little time we have, i want to make the most out of what is happeing i dont want to waste any more time not being where i want to be, i wanted to be skinny so i can go on with my life. But i geuess thats alos the point of life. ive been so worried about living that i havnt actually been living. Im failing at an attempt to handle my shit. I look back on the past and how come i can only think, mostly think of the bad things. The relationships that i shouldve ended sooner cuz i didnt really lvoe them as i thought love would be. THey were all merely a disspointment. That sounds rude but to put it this way i alwyas thought there was something better for me. MY parents used to say at times “its never enough for you katie” maybe that is true. maybe im never satisidef. Maybe it was because they were tired and had tried there best and i failed because my needs wernt meant. not that they were needs. I think back to guys ive hooked up with and wish i had higher standards. why did i find satisfaction in attention from people that didnt even care about me. WHen guys used me and i was glad to let them. Especailly when i had previous ly had crsushes on them. FUCK BOYS WITH J names. i dont know why im writing as if im writing a story. maybe it makes it easier maybeim trying to articulate my thoughts into something there not. I think about things that have happened and hope i can maybe use them as a testimony maybe ill meet the love of my life adn get to share all these stories... but i dont things play out like that and thats a weird perspective to have on things thsat occur. Like as if im a narrator. I would get so ecited to send cute pictures of myself when i was baby and show my boyfriends, or share things with them but then i realized something. they dont care, well definlty not like me. That ecitement about it is not the same as the one im epereiecning and when i was sent baby pictures of them, i didnt feel that warmth in my heart. maybe that makes me a bitch or emotionally disconnected. but how do i know if im feelin. what connections have i made. I used to want to be under the influence and gina my therapist said that people go to substances to feel connection. When i was on coke, life was beautiful i could talk to anyoe and everyone adn words flowed so well. In my head, looking back i probably looked like a crack head and thats the reality of it. I can manipulate my reality but to what is its value if its a lie. if no one else feels or sees what im seeing. ona nother thought i think we can make up these sotries in our heads that arnt even true. like somone tells us something or we feel a certain way about ourself so and it ends upso our whole olives our affected by this painting in our head only to find out no one sees what were seeing. my dad said that we can change the past, welll we can change our past by changing how we look at it. and i think if we could grasp it it would change our lives. I think that i could look back and not feel that shame, or not feel that embarressment. But am i not a sum of all the words thoughts and actions ive done or had uot o this point? thats depressing, but if it were something i was proud of then yes i would like to be. but the truth is all wehave is the now and you can start now being a totally different person, but you cant run away from all the consequences of the past i guess they jsut dont matter if you decide to change. but then what about bridges burned. i guess my plan b ina sense is to run away to another country. but then theres legal issues and this whole system and ates and bad guys and tso m8uch to worry about that i dont feela sense of freedom. my information is online and under a sytem and i undertsadn why i just wish everything could be quiet for sa sec. mayeb i dont want to be aktie stowers anymore. I get jealos of girls born and raised pretyy. all ive done is starved myself in the process of becoming what i want to be but thats not even me. if i have to starve to et there then i feel as though i dont actuallyl deserve to be skinny. and i fee l so vain for obsessing over this fucking thought. iw anted to be skinny this is what ive said from the beginging can someoine please help me do it. the probelm is that im in treatment for anoreica sub purge type and the reality is that i cant lose weight withought going to etreme measures. it became the most important thing in my life and ive been strung up on the same thought since fucking march of 2018. talk about time wasted. although i know thats no way of looking at it. ive learned lessons and have ad so many beautiufl things happpen. I get told very kind things about myself. i wonder if im actually a kind person or i only do things simply to be a kind person. if eel kinda selfish but i guess we all are. i mean think about how amny bad things are happening in this world and children starving and here i am buying things i dont need anf focuing on myself. but im not doing anything about it. i mean i try to tip etra give to homless ifi can i just feel guilt because i could be doing more but ijalso know that im not responsibly to save the world. jsut seems wrong the way things are. thats why i believe everyone goes to heaven. maybe because i cant wrap my head around the possily fact that barrett wouldnt and also becasue the idea of eternal damnation dosnt seem like the character of a god i want to serve. i see so much bullshit in the church and i just dont know . am i jsut angry. I became so jdugemntal of those judging me and thats just as worse but when theres almost a cluba nd you dont fit into there critera it fucking hutts. and that dosnt feel liek jesus i think jesus wouldnt let us be seperated by rleigion or if you drank last weekend. I think we should all unite and love each other and thats what reallly matters. yet here i am obsessed over being skinny. im down to 4 hour as of yesterday and i feel so much better i do. i just wish i could have one long 2 day therapy session whre i fucking figure out all my shit. ive gone to so much therapy and its been etremly helpful i jsut dont wanna waste anymore time with this baggage. I dont wanna go a minute longer when i could giure all this out. i guess what im saying is i want my life tp be an open canvas and not be unravveling and my childhood issues poopping up.. i want to go into the fututre knowing what i know adn epeireicning my life as it plays out. but i am 18 ishouldnt be thinking this much into things huh i should just let it be and lvie my life. i should be doung homework an teting my frienfds or going on a date. but thats not ther eality of things and alos i think ill look abck and things will be different. IOm also int reatment rn so oviously my situation is not exactly normal. i really do love to write i used to always want to be an author. but i dont kno0w anymore. i jsut dont really like how the sytem works i hate how we all have to go to college amd study things i dont give a fuck about and then some struggle at there 9-5 to merely surve eand ig uess i dont like the thoughr of that. and i know were suppsoed to find joys in the little things i think things are jsut freaking me out. iw ant to quit smoking nicatine but everyday i go out and do it. ig uess that meanns i dont really want to stop because if i did i would. i and then i feel slightly guilty and opackiy because his is the only boduy im given. like does that not freak everyone out. this is the only way we are able to eperience life. think about how quickly it can be ended. i think that is too much pwier overmyself. nmot that im suicidal but i do think i hgave the power to find out super son what is after this life. judgment day, pure nothingness, maybe ill become a=one of the many ants i ahev enjoyed killed as a punsihemtn for msyelf. or hoe[fully and maybe ill entire a heaven with a lovuing god. a state of being with loved ones. I think thats why people like the idea of heavn the idea that you will see people later. but that discount the factof pain. when someones child dies they dont feel any less pain because a verse about being reunited with the,. because the truht im scared to tyee is that theres a possibility heaven isnt rela. and the loved one that is lost will never be in your reaach again.i feel sad for how ome peoples lifeves go. i hope they get a chance in the after life to have what they wanted. but then i think abotu abd guys. i wouldnt want them in my heaven. i guess maybe who we all our at our core is who would be in heaven beyond all the nasty. yet i dont believ flesh is nasty and i dont believ trying my whole life to not be something i was made to be. if my flesh is evil adn mankind is doomed what the fuck is that. i dont think god would set us upnto fail and i believ ehe understands we are human. and gpd is god and god knew everything that was going to happen up to npw. u know whats crazy is that on the time line we are on the edge of what is to come. being aluive rn. and its crazy that i wont be here in 100 years. ill be merely history. but rn we are whats happneing 7:12 november 11th. we are up to datebecause we are merely aliver. unless there is different universes and this is m,erely a simulation. but besides the point. barrett was talking about just how many books songs and information there is. that makes me pancik there is so many people so many things i could learn and musici could listen to that no one can listen to it all. maybe theresa song out there that is my favorite son that ill never get to lsiten to but i gues si jsut have to trust that the universe ligns up as it should and my life will happen as it should. and alll these things are happneing and were floating in the middle of space and yet i feel like people arnt freaking out. like what hthe actual fuck is happneing. and why do iu want to soedn my one life doing shit that dosn matter or something i dont even love. but thats how life works because you have to have moneya nd i do love bying things. and i jsut need to relax. because when people look back on there past they think if i could only tell msyelf its going to be okaya nd to have fun. why cant i do taht i mean i can but tehn these thughts come in. iwant to be skinny i also love food. starving was easy and i like d seeing my bones show,. i wanted people to see me and know i was hurting but people dont wanna be sround sa dpeople i guess i just wanted o be rescued. and at the same time it was nice to focus on the thingsd because even if all went ot hell if i restricted enought hat was okay my eating idsorder would tell me that everything was going to be okay because i was taking care of the one thing i actaully wanted. writing this makes me sound crazy to msyelf. i have so many things i want to larn and do and so having an eating disorder makes me feel limated. amd truly it does limit me. it dosnt allow me to worry and think about these tihngs. i just really want to be skinnya dn i dont know where this started or why its so impiortant but i just am not a fann of my boyd. and i know tis terirble because im more than m y body and i know i cant stave mtyself and i know that this makes me self cenetred i know that it didnt pkay out as the damsel in distress that i wanted i know wthat i pushed loved ones away and made desisions taht really arnt alligned with my values because truly i didnt care i just wanted to get skinny i know i didnt look healthy bu in my mind that s the best ive eever looked. i know that the husband i meet is going to lvoe me for whats beond my appreance so it dosnt matter and getting atention from others isnt satisying and only leaves me feeling empty i knwo lifes to short to count your calories, to walk around feeling fraila nd loung every seconds. to reach 109 and not see a body close to what was at 116. to talk about numbers because they w]makr improtant parts of my life adn to allso swear that i dont care that much about the numbers. i care about the look. but if what they say is true and i ahve body dismprhia thats impossible. they say the eating idpsrder says itll never be enough. it will nevr be satisiuded. “ its never enough katie” never enough

and so maybe its me maybe im just this warped person. why do memories come back so weird and hwy did i have su h weird thoughts a s f\child. why do i get filled with so much rage. somtiems i think im the most grogeous girl and others i want to killmsyelf because i fel worthless. imm not suicdial but i can remeberthe first time i thought about killing kmyself i was in the abck seat of the car my brothers wre all teasing me about soething but for whatecer reason i was upset by it. i remebr crying and thinking how bad thye would feel if i killed myself. i carried this idealation iwht me later on. gina says i used this as a coping skill.w whenevr someone was mean, didnt say the right thing, didnt invite me, or a aprent said something hurtful. o thouhgt about it as if i were a ghost. watching how sad they were that they had not done better with me. that they said those angry words last to me instead of teeling me uhow much they lvoed me. that when they gossiped ghey felt so bad after because i was dead. i sometimes wish i could watch this unfold. but thats demented and evil. my ghost smiling with satifdaction as she watches loved one who id love and people who were simply lvingnthere life be affected by this. what good would it do to me or them. it would ruin them, does thaa amke mf evil. and then i realzie thats not how death wokrs. ill go to wahtevr is after this.a dm why would i waste my eistence on a disguestingnromantizsm of revenge. shpuld move on better msyelf and make connections and share with my lovedones hwen theyve hurt me or that i need more love. i love treamnt. i love the lif3 im having. besids hating my body i love doing art and larning life skills and if eel like pooeple love me for me there and i can really be myself and support others. but i cant live my life in treatment. i want to relapse theres a few pros to this. one i get skinny againa dn can take pcitures while im skinnya dn try to do it a healthier way. 2 i can jsut go back to treatment and 3 thats a big fuck you to insuracne and theyll realize i coudlve used more help. my ancupucture lady said i need to let people help me adn its tru. i can read boooks hae copnversations go toa therapist but what goofd does it do if its not evn sticking with me. if i dont allow it to change me. im so stuck in that i want to be skinny. but im also tired of haojng my body, the thought about being okay iwht my body is sad to. ill jsut be ugly and not care? amd i wont be ablr to beas beautiful as i want to be. the law of attraction streases me out to because what if everytihng im writing is manif3sting as we speak. hut io cant just iugnore all thse thoughts. its good to journl ane write. i smoked the other night and told susan and brooke but lied to my treatment team. but honestly i was anxious the whole time and outside of playing with myself and dougna trippy spiritaul mediaiton itwasnt the best time. it ,made me realize i enjoy beig sober bcecause i can do lall the things i want to do and not be stupid and i can be mindful. but then i feel a little desperate at the idea of not having anys ubstances. i sjsut need to create a good ralit y formyself. also i just don tfeel like im the little blon girl in my baby photos like me and her arnt \even the same person but i am i am her in 18 year old form. i jsut dont even know who i am or whats happening. iw ant to chilla dn i need to find balance. maybe this is because my brain has more room oto think about thoings. it kinda hurts me that my mom dsont know that much about eating disorders but yet she says she knows how bad these thionhd can get. likes he can talk so much about me needing help and this and that and yet she hasnt veen taken the tiem to udnerstand what it is im goi g throug. but i shoudlnt epect her to i dont evn knkw what is happneing. cons of relasping is more time wwasting life farther form my hoal. what is my goal all i can think abou t is working on my body bye cercising and eating healthy after treatment. iu dont underdstand why people dopnt think this is a huge thing for me. it makes it so i cant wear what. im so tired of caring. i want to get out of my head. but reality is i am katie and i have to deal wiht whats going on it dosnt do any good whining about it. another con is that my family would be disapinted. im kinda scared i ahev cancer ir im going ot die and jus stop breatinh. its probaly jsut anxiety . nbut i think about the drugs ive done and all that ive smoked and when ive starved and i wonder if im jsut shutting gdown. but i guess were all shutting down. but you cant tell kids these tihngs they dont care and they wouldnt undertsnad. i guess im jsut freaking out at my very eistence. im also very thankful to ebe alive. the fact were all ehsiting rn is crazy i think everything happens for a reason and theres a beautiful lessona nd “work of art called love” desinged by the creator. i ksut dpnt think itds what people think its actaully is. julian is just dsigusing why was i ever ino him. but i cant stop 16 year old me by being into him. but he really wasa dick adn oi dont think hes aw the value in me. my idea of him thinking that was because hesa lot uglier than me or the line in fredys song where he says “ why would a girl like you fall for a guy like me” and he saud thatr eminded him of us i thought that was so sweet. MO that dosnt mean he values me. why was i so okay with accepting bullshit.a nd nathan. i really liked nathan we were bestfriends. but i got really cazy jealous. i was supposed to eat2 and ahalf hours ago and im not rally hungry. hence my hunger ques are off. i lost 4 lbs over the weekedn and im on weight restoration i was given till friday before i have tonadd even more additions because im not supposed to be lsoing weight. but i dint feel sad baout it. i felt eciteed i guess my bodys ina place where it can lsoe weight easily. i feel like i should take advantage of it. is this litterally the eating disorder tuyping as we speak am i poseed. it is katie stowers. i guess thats what an eating idorder does. i think i ought to steer clear of caffense and weed. make things a little less harde.r and truly i shuld try to quit nicatine. ots just so nice to do but i think i ought to just not do it. i think idts a porblem because i can already mpciture me going outside after break and smoking. “evntually ill quit shes aid” when i quoted julien baker in her song ahppy to be hee to esther it says “ i miss you the way that i miss nicatine” she waled away after. felt a little judged honeslt and i dont think it was cuz of me but i am better than to smoke nicatine. i think im gonna not do it tomorow. adn if i succeed well see about friday. but it is a hbit i shoudl break. but anyways theres a lot to worry about and be ecited about to and im having a hard time manging it all. and i opuld go on times ten of whats been happneing in my brain ina therap y session but it dosnt happne.

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neotericbitch · 5 years

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a sequel to DarqAnon

part the first

It’s quite abusive, there I said it, how you’re allowed to force a ritual onto a child, whether it be reciting an anthem or staring at the sun, before their brain has developed enough to comprehend the significance. In fact, doing so makes it more likely that as the child grows up, they will never truly find meaning in the action! How sad is that? I’d never force anything on my son.

Growing up, staring into the sun was something I never understood. For a long time I didn’t, I couldn’t conceive of the satisfaction or happiness my family derived from it. It meant something to them, so they tried to teach it to me, but it never meant anything to me. I understood that the sun was their god, but because I never truly believed, I couldn’t grasp how or why it would be important to them to stare up at it, burning their eyeballs out of their sockets. Their god was sending a clear message, do not look at me. Why would they do it anyway?

Oh, but - do keep in mind that that’s all in the past. I understand now. I understand perfectly.

Valkyrie Cain has the most brilliant black eyes. Truly, her every feature is marvellous, her sharp nose, her expressive mouth - but I always go back to the eyes. For Crandall, it’s her hands. They’ve shared many times over many meetings, to the point where I find it very annoying, that they want nothing more than to feel her hands on the sides of their head before she crushes it. I think it’s a nice little fantasy to have, just stop telling us about it. I have only ever shared what I wanted two, maybe three times. That’s an acceptable amount of times! Any more is overdoing it, Crandall! Crandall, I know you’re listening. I’ve been able to feel it even when a very good Sensitive is in my head, Crandall, and you are not a very good Sensitive.

Beside me they turn their head away. Why would they want to listen to my thoughts, anyway, when Valkyrie is here? I suppose I understand their hesitance. Darquesse, goodness - Darquesse wouldn’t stand for anyone hearing her thoughts, absolutely not! To attempt it on her would be a high offence. But Crandall, if you’re still listening, I’d say go ahead for the time being. Darquesse isn’t here. Not yet.

Looking at her, it all makes sense. I want to call up my mother and tell her I understand, I understand wanting - needing! - to look at something, even if it does not want you to. The sun may try to blind you. Valkyrie may glare and scream and curse. But you simply cannot look away.

I cannot call up my mother, of course. She has been dead for a hundred years, and I’m busy right now - and I don’t think there’s mobile phone reception here anyway.

For this week’s Thursday meeting, 6 to 7:30, we have made a temporary move from the community hall to the vault, generously donated for DA’s use by Nicki, who we had to murder. Dear girl, she didn’t want to let me hold the meeting here this week. I suggested it at the end of last week’s meeting and everyone was very excited. A hundred meters beneath the spot where Darquesse opened her portal to another dimension and disappeared - we’re so lucky to have this place! Of course everyone wants to come here whenever we have the opportunity! But Nicki said no. Nicki said to me, “Isserley, these meetings have been really great, you are a good organiser and I’m very happy to have met everyone, but I think what you’re planning is wrong. Please return the vault key to me.” So we had to kill her.

And here we are tonight, and I almost wish Nicki were here so I could say, to think you didn’t want this! The meeting is going very well, I think it’s our best one yet. 6:40 and we’re just about to finish setting up, we’re a neat little group of people. We won’t go over time at all! I’d like to say that I, being an incredibly organised person, have been a good influence on my fellow DA-goers.

Salma finishes painting the symbol on the ground. Her designs are ugly, but she has a steady hand and knows how best to use the petrol paste, a very special concoction. No one else could have done this job - though I must admit, I am a bit envious. Easy, Isserley! Remember, your job is the most important. Without you, this wouldn’t work. Without you, Valkyrie would not even be here.

Salma reaches for Valkyrie. She thrashes wildly - and I can’t say I blame her! I wouldn’t want Salma to touch me, either! Haha. But it really won’t do for her to behave this way, we really need her complete cooperation, so I motion to Respite at the wall and he turns the crank, tightening the chains attached to the bound cuffs at her every limb. She is pulled tight, and by the sounds of it it’s not a very comfortable experience, but now she is tense and mostly still - perfect for Salma to draw the symbol on her wrists and stomach.

She puts up a hell of a fight when Respite disconnects the chains from the wall and reconnects them to the floor, at each corner of where the symbol has been painted so she is now seated in the centre. I can’t help but smile! She reminds me of one of those beautiful shrine maidens. If only I’d thought of that earlier. I would have put this off one more week and gotten an outfit made. But the clothes she put on herself this morning are more than lovely. Darquesse will like them. Darquesse will like being back.

Valkyrie keeps straining and trying to get up, the poor dear! I wish I could go over there and pat her face, like I used to pat my son’s when he was resisting me - I wish I could tell her everything will be alright. But I know, even chained and without magic, she could certainly find a way to kill me if I were within reach. And I don’t want her to kill me until the ritual is complete, of course! Otherwise what would be the point?

“I don’t even know,” Valkyrie growls - what a good word for it! Indeed, she is doing her very best to sound deep, dark and scary. Soon it will come naturally. “I don’t even know what you think this will do. It’s not a full moon, or a blood moon, or any kind of moon. It’s not a magical day, it’s not a holiday, it’s not even a day that means anything to me.”

It’s my birthday, but don’t tell anyone that. It’s my special little secret, my gift to myself.

“This sigil is totally made-up. It’s not going to do anything.” She tries to raise her hand to her face to wipe off some sweat, but the chain is too short. “Let me go and I’ll make it quick - because when Skulduggery gets here, he certainly fucking won’t.”

I crouch down to be on her level, and I’m filled with such...reverence. I understand. I understand. This is what I was supposed to feel kneeling in the sweltering heat for hours on end. I’m glad I feel it here instead.

“You will kill us,” I say. “But we’re not going to uncuff you, you’ll do that yourself.”

“What are you talking about?” She is so exasperated and so irritated and so wonderful. “These cuffs are bound. It doesn’t matter how great you think I am, I’m not that strong.”

“You will be! You will be.” In the corner of my vision I see Salma fidgeting. Salma!!! You’re ruining this!! To make her stop, I gesture at her so she can speak and stop annoying everyone with her movements.

“The sigil you’re sitting on,” she fires off in her horrible, grating voice, “and the sigils that are on you are my own designs. Just because you haven’t seen them before doesn’t mean they won’t work. They’ll work.” Her lip trembles and she bows her head. “I’m sorry you don’t...believe in me.”

Valkyrie stares for a moment. “You’re completely nuts.” Nuts! Aah! That’s the word I use to describe her! How exciting!

“They’ll work, I swear. I promise. We only need to activate them, and...” Salma looks to me. Unfortunately, I have to stand up now and go back to looking down on Valkyrie. It’s okay, though. It’s okay. Soon she’ll be looking down on me.

For now, she doesn’t look at me at all. She looks down at where she’s put her arms on her knees, wrists facing out. Perhaps Supreme Mage Sorrows once gave her a lesson on what certain strokes can mean, perhaps she’s trying to work out how to counteract our symbol.

She’s fabulous and smart, yes, but she won’t be able to work it out. I am confident. I snap my fingers, summoning a bright, orange flame into my hand. She lifts her head, looks me directly in the eye, and I smile widely. Very widely. Not widely enough. I hope, before Darquesse kills me, she at least takes the time to appreciate what I’m doing for her. I hope she recognises how much I love her. No - I don’t hope. I know. She will. She must.

I take a step forward and crouch again, reaching my hand out to the edge of the symbol on the ground. My flame will catch onto the petrol paste and spread immediately. Valkyrie will be burned, but only a little bit! Just a little bit. Long enough for the fire to catch the symbols on her skin, and she will be protected - and Darquesse will be summoned back into her. She will be complete again.

Before my flame touches the paste, Valkyrie shoots her hand out and smudges the line, which gives me just about the fright of my life! Thank goodness I have such incredible reflexes, otherwise I wouldn’t have jerked my hand away in time. The paste would have caught on fire and surely burned her to death! She rubs her wrists together, wiping away the symbols written there, then kicks her legs out from under her so she’s in a more traditional butt-to-ground position, but that means she’s made the ground symbol worse and displaced dirt into my face.

It’s hard to love her when she has literally blinded me. That whole thing about the sun and everything, it was more of a metaphor. I still love her of course! I’m only taken aback. Anything I may say as I fall backwards isn’t really my fault, since she’s the one who kicked dirt in my eyes. It's more of my reflexes. I never would say anything of the sort to her under normal circumstances. Never.

“You bitch!”

What an inconvenience. I don’t get to see any of what happens next! I only hear the door flying open and gunshots, the sounds of my people yelling and trying to fight. Punches, kicks, bodies falling to the ground. When I hear Salma scream and feel her blood land on my face, I can’t help it! I can’t help it but think, serves you right for putting a cent in the collection tray every week!

“Skulduggery, the-”

“Valkyrie. Are you alright?” Is that him getting on his knees? Maybe he understands after all. “Are you hurt?”

“My skin’s burning, let me loose so I can get this shit off me. The crank on the wall, I think that controls the cuffs.”

I roll onto my side and wipe the dirt from my eyes. I hear Pleasant at the wall, turning the crank back and hitting the release. It’s terribly uncomfortable, but I can open my eyes and see well enough - and what I see is Crandall dead next to me! It’s such a shock, my heart skips at least three beats. That rotten Pleasant. What a barbarian. I lift my head as carefully as I can, so I won’t be noticed. Valkyrie has lifted her shirt to get the symbol off her stomach and cannot see me.

This is so unfair. I put so much work into this plan. It was so hard to trap her! I was going to bring Darquesse back. Me. Not Crandall, not Salma. Not Nicki. Her black eyes would have bored into my skull and killed me and I would have been good and happy. Huh! Maybe I'm not too different to those Faceless worshippers who go blowing themselves up in public places.

“Isserley. I thought that was you.” Pleasant. Pleasant is talking to me. “How have you been?”

Valkyrie snaps her head up at him. “You know her?”

“We’ve seen her in the High Sanctuary.”

“Jesus. Is there anyone you don’t remember.”

“No.” He reaches out and wipes the rest of the symbol off her stomach in one motion. I have dirt in my eyes but I see how her tummy kind of curls in a bit as she drops her shirt down.

That should be me. That should be me. I love her more than anyone. I burst into tears.

“She tried to set me on fire.”

“I think a list of people who haven’t tried to set you on fire would be shorter than a list of those who have.” I hear the clink of handcuffs. “Come on, now, Isserley.”

I let my head drop back onto the ground and stare up at the ceiling. I do not take one more look at Valkyrie. I’m not worthy. I’m not worthy. I failed. “Why don’t you just kill me.” I’m not even aware of myself saying it, to be honest! Just one of those things that...slips out...

“She makes a good point, Skulduggery.”

“Can’t be done. We should leave at least one cultist alive to arrest, so why not take the woman in charge?”

“How do you know she’s the one in charge?”

His terrible skull fills my vision as he looks down at me. You know, hearing him talk this much at one time has jogged my memory. And he does happen to wear very beautiful suits. My mouth falls open. “You’re-”

Valkyrie was startled for a moment by the sudden gunshot. Shoulders tensed, she looked over to Skulduggery standing over the woman, gun still pointed into a face that didn’t really exist anymore.

“What made you change your mind?” she asked as he put the revolver away. Skulduggery came over to her and brushed some hair out of her face, went back to fussing over the injuries she sustained on her way here.

“Too talkative,” he said, and she laughed and teased him about being a hypocrite.

#skulduggery pleasant #thanks for subscribing

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alicezan-ncgred · 5 years

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Bleeding Red

Preface: I’ve been bitching around the bush of this long enough. So, I’ve been really silent on a bunch of stuff that’s been eating me alive which has made me both inactive and unproductive. I’m going to get straight to the point, starting off with the TL:DR from my post on my main blog. Context: An anon asked me if I was alright because I hadn’t updated in a while.

TL:DR You probably didn’t ask this to hear about all the bad shit of my life so here’s the short of it. No, I’m not doing fine. I will try get next weeks post out on time and I’ll work on making up on the lost posts. Updates will return regularly, ‘ite.

Time for the thick and thin of it.

Insecurity and being shafted: I’m stoic, even at my worst I won’t say anything. I’ll push through regardless of my current condition and since I’ve gone years like this, it’s not hard for me to do. In my real life situation, I’m currently in a place of social isolation. This has lead to a somewhat near reliance on Tumblr to be my social outlet. This present many issues.

The main one is that I’m quite the isolationist. This has only been reinforced by many interactions throughout the entirely of my life. Because of this, I can’t say I’ve ever had anything really more than two friends at a time. While in a way this has helped me express myself so well through writing, it’s come at the cost of social skill. I don’t talk to anyone.

With this kind of issue you could easily imagine that the THREE PEOPLE (four now, but very limited) to ever directly talk ended up in a way shafting me. The first blocked and disconnected with me without warning or reason. At this point we’ve been talking to each for about a month and we hit it off very well and then one day, silence. Never heard from them again. That fucked me up hard when I finally realized what happened.

The second person left during the Tumblr P**n Purge. We were talking about how to contact each other on other platforms and then they stopped responding. I had already given contact to other platforms of which they pinged me in any way. Another person that I trusted massively on here just abandoned me and I’m still hurting from that. Wasn’t fair at all.

Then the third person was someone that I been following for a while. This person is actually the reason that I’ve been putting this off for so long. I don’t want them to see this post but they will. I got an ask from them that ultimately turned out to be misinformation. I said I wasn’t mad but I was. I was so fucking angry about it and I’m still kinda mad, but I didn’t want problems. I still don’t. I just didn’t want them to worry about it. This will come back later.

I try my best to be as inoffensive as possible. The problem with that is that much of the things I believe or enjoy are highly divisive. Hell, even my own identity can be seen as offence. I’m bisexual, non-binary (I’m currently still questioning this. I might actually be gender fluid but in the overall scheme, that’s worse than being non-binary), and nonreligious. I’m in a very religious area so you I’m still “in the closet” about much of this IRL. I though it would better online but with how much people are saying bisexuality doesn’t exist, or that non-binary isn’t a valid gender (or that being gender fluid make you insane and you should be locked up) and all the hate people who say they are this are getting, the very community that’s supposed to accept me, HATES me. I had a bi pride flag icon last year during Pride Month. I never doing that ever again. It was terrible.

I’m trying my best to come out of my shell like I said I would when I made this blog but it seems I’m just crawling further into it. People I think I can trust keep setting me up to fall, people I know in real life won’t ever accept my existence if they knew who I really was, and my own mental health problem and self loathing are eating me alive. But that isn’t the total of it.

Crumbling Pillar: I’ve always ended up in the position where things were thrown onto me. In which no one wanted to do, I was stuck with. Because of this not only do I have a severe distaste being around my family (beyond everything mentioned before hand) but I grew to have a negative out look on everything. This effect is still quite obvious in my writings, especially my poems. Out of the 14 poems on my poem blog @washed-soul, only one has a happy meaning.

The one happy poem was called dreams. Under a metaphor it talks about how a demon kept me trapped in a dark space. I start to get better and nearly break free before I have a negative relapse back to my old ways. The poems ends with the demon putting a end to itself leaving the nightmare in which it was keeping me in to slowly fade away, letting one crack of light peeking through to become a window to a door until one day I walk free. When writing this poem, I never thought I would find myself rebuilding the nightmare but that’s where I am.

I’m done with holding things together that other people have placed onto me. Because of this, issues have began showing in my private life. Issues that should’ve been solved decades ago are only now being addressed. This change in the status quo of my life has caused many issues in my productive and mood. Between everything else I’m too tired to do anything.

Is that a reason, is that an excuse. No it isn’t but it’s the best thing I got as a reason. I’m doing my damnedest to do the best I can but of course, when it comes to the thing that matter I just fall short. Big fucking whopha my intelligence and capability does me if I can’t use it for anything that means a damn.

Meaningless Triviality: I’m a very emotional person. I’m very strongly bound to my emotions and if everything above hasn’t given it away, my emotions are very negative prone. But it just doesn’t stop there, it goes back into my memories. I can only honestly place 3 happy memories for certain that aren’t either A) a dream or B) me escaping reality through my mind. Besides that, almost all my memories are negative.

People like to throw around the word Nihilist to describe themselves because today's culture is very, god while I hate to use this word, edgy. For those who don’t know a Nihilist is someone who views the world as being completely meaningless and reject all religious and moral principles. I very truly struggle with this outlook of life. It’s a daily for me to berate myself saying “just kill yourself” or “I want to die” or just shutting down and crumpling up while say “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry” over and over again. Hell, I did that while writing this.

I take things very hard, even the slightest transgression. I’m so used to trying to make things perfect and because people have the image that I’m the smart one, the mature one, the capable one, I’m left with the over hanging expectation of excellence. Almost no room for margin of error or being human. Since I’m the silent type, I put up no challenge and work to meet it. Only time I get any praise for anything too.

I guess as a little self promotion to my main blog, for those that have read the very first few updates of my main blog @the-truth-behind-redacted, or read Defiance’s character sheet, while The Machine and Defiance are separate character, they both share the name Machine. That in part is a reflect of said above expectation. How ravenous and inhuman it can be all under the guise of something human. Those characters are the two sides to the same coin.

Remember how I said I try to be un-problematical and how I try to avoid any potential conflict. In the first segment I told on how I lied about my feelings just so another person didn’t have to worry over something that honestly, in hindsight, wasn’t even really a big deal. But I also said how it consumed me in anger. I just don’t want to bother anyone over anything. It’s part of the reason why I am writing this post, as some way of a self enforced rehab program to get better.

This absolute consumption of negative emotion has pushed me into a non human state before. I hit a point of absolute mental exhaustion and in such a self enforced bubble of actual hatred I became completely apathetic. I felt numb to everything. I watched and heard of terrible things happening to people, and felt nothing. I watched people lives crumble before them leaving them nowhere to go and LAUGHED. “Just another worthless pathetic worm on this rotting carcass of a planet being hit with the hard reality that life doesn’t care for them. What whimsical pathetic bullshit they deluded themselves with to think otherwise.” This isn’t an exaggeration on how I thought, this is what I actually thought. Which brings me too.

The Mandatory Sob Story: Roll your eyes everyone and get the tiny violin. I guess in order for everyone to exactly understand the place I’m coming from when it comes to mental health I’ll have to detail my experiences. I have a long standing history with mental illness. I have professionally diagnosed OCD, Bipolarism, Anxiety, Chronic Depression, and visual and auditory hallucinations. I take 600 mg of Seroquel a day as well as Amitriptyline when needed. I’m also still currently in therapy to deal with said OCD, Bipolarism, Anxiety, Chronic Depression, the visual and auditory hallucinations, as well as Suicidal thoughts, and my Nihilism. There’s a reason to why I’m so god damn familiar with mental illness and treatment plans.

OCD and Bipolarism run in my family on my fathers side. My Father’s Father had them, my Sister has them, my brother most likely has them (however he refuses to see a doctor because he uses said possible mental illnesses as a get out of jail free card. He doesn’t want to be treated and he has FUCKING ADMITTED IT), my father has them, and I have them. I, however, have the misfortune of having it real bad. I said yes to well over half of all the total symptoms when I was being tested (I don’t remember exact numbers but I remember there being three pages worth of common symptoms) which was very worrying to the doctor. I was currently in an inpatient hospitalization program at the time for both suicidal thoughts and actions, and severe depression.

On that, my graze in with suicide. Before I went into my first inpatient program I was contemplating suicide. I was sat in front of a mirror with a bottle of over the counter medication. It was an unopened bottle of ibuprofen, 1000 200mg tables. What I planed to do was down the whole bottle with benadryl and die in my sleep. I had the small box of benadryl got from the Kroger pharmacy and a hand full of ibuprofen poured out looking directly into the mirror. My suicide note was sitting on the desk on my room with an online copy on my laptop open.

I sat there for an hour in the dead of midnight complicating my life. I had lost all hope in the world, filled with hatred, anger, pain, and despair. I had no god or after life to look forward too, part way hoping that a Hell existed for me to burn in. I hated myself that much. I was close to taking the first handful before before I caught a glimpse of my own eyes in the mirror. In what was in a weird sudden epiphany I realized that I truly did become what I hated but not for any reason I told myself. I became the very bastion of negativity I sought to fight and rid of in what little friends I did have. That was what set off my path to recovery in spite of the medical system. I guess if people care I’ll make a separate post on that.

Before I move on, I feel I should explain my history with the visual and auditory hallucinations. It should be no surprise that with everything else above, I also had extreme paranoia that led to me having very bad insomnia. Insomnia is, just like most other medical disorders like Depression, Self-harm, Anxiety, OCD, Bipolarism, is romanticized to hell. Insomnia isn’t having one nights bad sleep where you got 5 hours of sleep instead of 8.

You know what Insomnia is? insomnia is being physical incapable of sleeping despite not sleeping in 2 to 3 day while your body suffers massive agony brought on by this. Muscle spasms and seizing, difficulty breathing, your eyes feeling like fire ants are eating them, and of course visual and auditory hallucinations. Now I already had issues with visual and auditory hallucinations even when I could get sleep regularly but the combined effects of my OCD and Bipolarism made this perfect condition of Insomnia, Anxiety, Paranoia, with the already added in disposition to hallucinations and I felt like I was actually losing my mind.

My hallucinations presented themselves in three forms. Disassociation of reality, night terrors, or alterations of reality. Disassociation of reality often were complete black out moments. I would lose any perceived connect to reality and enter an episode of my mind. I can’t remember what they actually were but I do remember what it felt like. Cold sweats, anxiety to point where if I didn’t lock up I would vomit, actual physical pain, mind numbing fear, and intense fatigue.

The second were night terrors often in the form of horrific “things.” I do remember these and most of them were as best as I could describe, forms of things that were vaguely human and formations of industrial machinery. The most vivid one I remember was of a long lengthy apparition that was for the most part human but many locations of it’s impossible physiology were rebar beams and mechanical sockets. It began when I was about to fall asleep and it was next to my window. The thing was making week groaning and gasping sounds before it violently slammed against my window breaking it then letting out a horrific howl that I can’t describe as it tossed itself out followed shorty after with the sound of bones breaking against the dirt.

Now that might not seem so bad, exspecally with everything that is in horror movies or games now, but keep in mind that was fucking real to me. It was as real as the clicking of the keys of my keyboard as I’m writing this. As real as the chair I’m sitting in and as real as the wall in front of me. As far as my mind was concerned that thing, what ever it was, actually existed. It took me physical touching my window to make sure it wasn’t actually broken and checking outside to see if there wasn’t a body there. This isn’t the type of thing I talk about lightly.

Finally there is the alteration of reality. This is very simply but it’s something that fucked with me hard. For very little meaning or warning, I would have trouble interpreting the world around me. My hearing and sight would be warped and there wasn’t any real way to tell what I was hearing or seeing was real or not until the episode was over. The way I got through these was the ultimate fake it till you make it. Obviously, very often I failed and this created issue in my schooling.

Ending Message: I’ve been in a very bad state for a while now and as it is now, no signs of getting better. I also strongly believe my medications are being to fail me which I’ve been telling my doctor and therapist for over a year now but nothing’s been done. Mainly it’s my Depression but insomnia episodes are beginning and my own paranoia been on the rise. It’s gotten to the point where I can’t even look at a creepy image or thumbnail without having a very bad episode.

I’ve managed to eat something today which was nice but my body is cramping hard. And to possible stave of a possible comment, I’m biologically male. Like I said I’m not in the best head space, or living for that matter. If this gets better, only time will tell.

#Long post #tw: suicide #TW: Depression #Trigger Warning #TW #OCD #Anxiety #Chronic Depression #Bipolar Disorder #Bipolar #Mental Health #My mental health

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carnifcrous · 5 years

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could you give me a rundown on what being gender critical is? i get the basics i think but if you don’t mind explaining your views?

oh boy anon i’ll sure try!! idk if im the best person to talk about it tbh and ive confused a lot of people trying to explain my views before ahfjkfh but ill try REALLY hard to keep my adhd ass in check lmfao. if theres anything i said thats confusing & you need cleared up feel free to @ me againi dont know how long gender critical has existed as a concept, but i wouldnt be surprised if it was developed as a reaction to a certain VERY vocal part of the trans movement/trans rights activists

(so when you talk to people (trans ppl) about gender i think people usually break it down into several a few categories: gender identity, gender roles, and gender expression. i think most trans people are aware of & separate their sex from their gender identity, the identity being something innately part of every person, the roles generally speaking the bullshit that society expects & should be rejected, and gender expression really just being the traditional “feminine” or “masculine” behaviors/dress you use regardless of your innate identity.in trans circles/lgbt (merch, lol) sites i’ve seen the phrase passed around “gender is a social construct.” i think trans people who do/used to say that meant it kind of like that since gender was created by societies so it doesn’t matter how you identify/why not expand the understanding of gender (ergo, non-binary genders getting popularized). i think this fell out of popularity because it was transppls attempt to validate ourselves and conservatives cant wrap their mind around social constructs are/the distinction between sex and gender and so it wasnt really working out lmfaobut now there’s been some scientific studies getting popularized that have Suggested the existences of male & female brains and that trans ppl have the brain of their identified gender, therefore the disconnect between their brain and their body manifests as gender dysphoria. (i think the transmed community has especially taken to this idea esp because of kalvin garrah discovering these studies & now kind of preaching them as facts & science. with this comes him, his friends, and all the transmed ppl who stan him ryan and london saying that Gender Isnt Socially Constructed)then theres the posts circling around here saying Transwomen Are Women/Real Women + when the women’s march happened in america after trump got elected, i saw quite a few things on facebook where ppl were saying that all the talk of vaginas and shit were transphobic and trans-exclusionary and they should keep in mind that not all women have vaginas, etc etcthen u have what i believe (or at least hope) are outliers in the trans community being dug up (usually transwomen) who say........ The Most ridiculous shit imo. like saying theyre more of a woman than ciswomen (i’ll use cis strictly to mean not-trans in the context of this post), transwomen claiming theyre having a period, and just in general perpetuating “cotton ceiling” stuff like lesbians just needing to get over their transphobia to be with a pre-op transwoman. (again i would like to reiterate i DO NOT believe this is what the majority of transpeople believe, its just a vocal minority thats gotten attention from receipt blogs IMO.))**sorry that this post is already becoming an essay and if its derailing from the question, but this is what i think gender critical stuff is meant to react toso kind of in opposition to mainstream ideas of what gender is, i think radfems/gender critical people dont really break down gender into the different things like identity, roles and expression. from my understanding, gender was socially constructed based on sex stereotypes. i think we can all agree that stereotypes are Bad, so why should we identify with some set stereotypes?

the gender critical beliefs is that there’s not right or wrong way to be male or female (male and female in this post meaning to strictly refer to biological sex). gender is holding us back by continuing to subscribe to sex stereotypes and is counterproductive to building a society where people are free to express themselves however they like. (a lot of gender critical ppl equate gender identity with personality, and while i think this can sometimes be the case w nondysphoric people & mogai genders, it isn’t always and usually isnt, because as i mentioned before, a lot of ppl know enough to say that gender expression is something independent of gender identity.)as for my personal take on it & how it plays a part of my life (apologies that this is going to get super anecdotal):this all is related to my own transition. since questioning being trans, i fluctuated between different non-binary identities. i didnt think i was Trans Enough to call myself a transmale because i didnt want to kill myself over not having a penis (or even trans enough to call myself trans at all lol), so i thought i needed to stay as being nb. then i realized they/them pronouns did...... nothing for me. the whole time i had she/they/he or they/he in a profile i was always secretly hoping someone would just call me he lol.

but i felt like i was an insult to REAL transmen. it took me a while to realize that i didnt care too much about the specifics, i just needed to do what made me happy. that happiness was being read as male & using he/him pronouns.

but even then id still struggle. id have moments of thinking that i was just copying my best friend (who had a similar nb -> binary transmale path as me), or that i didnt even feel like a boy, that i was STILL faking being trans, that i should feel more of x y & z, that id made a mistake with starting testosterone, etc. reading radfem/gender critical stuff used to trigger the fuck out of me lmfao.i think what i eventually realized for myself and the sentiment other gender critical transppl share is that i was setting up an expectation/standard for myself that was impossible to attain. with mainstream gender theory, a cisman and i share our gender identity, our gender is the same (”cis” as its used to “identifying with your biological sex”). the thing is though, in terms of sex/gender, theres nothing i find that i have comparable to a male. i dont act like a “man” because im not one, im a TRANSman. ive lived most of my life so far as female and being socialized that way has been significant to me. i relate a lot to women and its always felt wrong to me how suddenly because im transitioning it felt to me like i was expected to revoke my right to speak on feminism/womens experiences. way before i discovered gender critical things i was pissed off at people trying to be “allies” to transpeople saying shit like “all men are trash transmen are real men so theyre trash too uwu!” like. fuck that. and fuck you for insinuating i would EVER treat a woman the way that men do.

like i know there are transmen (and just transppl in general, for that matter), who try to overcompensate with misogyny/misogynistic ideas because they think itll help them pass better but fuck

anyway. im proud of being a natal female and being socialized that way. being trans isnt exactly a party but im glad i could get the insight i have into the treatment of women and so forth. and the thing is, this isnt a contradiction to me being trans at all. once i let go of whether or not i was “male enough” of “valid” as a boy, i could once again just focus on the very concrete evidence in my life: i was EXTREMELY dysphoric about my chest. i’ve been on hrt for almost two years now and ive had top surgery. my dysphoria is almost non-existent since ive had surgery. i dont mind & even get excited about all the changes coming from being on testosterone. (dont like that i cant sing like i used to and that i’ll probably end up balding at least by my 50s if my dads head is any indication, but cismen have this problem too so whatever)

also ive never felt quite right when i was calling myself gay (exclusively attracted to men). i share some issues that gay men might, i Can be affected by homophobia because i Do pass as male, but its still not 100% the same experience and i think that distinction is importantmy concerns & how being gender critical is important to me:

me coming out as trans was a process over time. using the usual trans rhetoric, i was having difficulties explaining myself to people. specifically im thinking about my mom. when i said i was uncomfortable with being seen as a girl, she said she was uncomfortable too. she liked dressing more like a boy. some other shit she said too that i dont remember, but my basic takeaway: cispeople, particularly ciswomen, arent necessarily enthusiastically identifying with their correlated gender to their sex, because..... no reasonable person likes gender roles.

and i get worried about people like my mom who might be encouraged to identify as nonbinary just because theyre gender non-conforming. the identity itself wouldnt be much of a problem except that it seems to me like its being pretty normalized for nonbinary people to just kind of....... experiment with medical transitioning to try to achieve some Ideal androgynous form that would be.... Very difficult to achieve. i worry about people not thinking medical transitioning is a big deal and just kind of.... disregarding all the potential health consequences, how powerful testosterone is as a hormone, and so on. with the permanent changes that come people THEN end up experiencing dysphoria and life is.... really pretty difficult for detransitioned women from what i can tell, and a lot of people talk about how theres been a spike of people detransitioning lately.

i think part of the problem is 1. transmed/truscum people harassing & bullying nondysphoric trans-identified people, so they feel the need to medically transition to Prove Themselves and 2. just in general the aforementioned idea that everyone has a gender identity. i think itd be very uncommon for people to “identify” as cis, and so you get this whole mess of people thinking they need an androgynous body to match their androgynous identity......... etc.

bonus: my mom crying on her birthday because she said she didnt think shed be able to ever see me as a guy. “nonbinary, maybe, but you dont act like a boy.” problem solved, i dont act like a guy, i act like a transguy!!

also again, need to reiterate that i cant relate to men. i can never Become Male, not with our current technology. i was not socialized as male and thats okay!! its okay because im just doing what i need to in order to be comfortable with my body and myself. i dont need to worry about my dating pool seeing me as a Real Man because they can see me fully as the transman i am and my relationship with being a natal woman and just, shit like that. ive gotten a lot more comfortable with even being called she when it does happen (by accident by family members). its not a swear word to me and ive let go of a lot of expectations i thought i had to meet with being uncomfortable talking about my female organs and my past as living as a woman etc etc. im not trying to Be anything anymore. im just trying to live as myself

some of my issues with the gender critical community just as a disclaimer:

i have a lot honestly and im not going to be able to name them all off the top of my head

makes sense that it would be, but i think the community is rampant with transphobia in the sense of flattening transpeople to the “transcult” stereotype where they just..... dont seem to think of us as individuals. they think we’re all genderists getting triggered by misgendering & demanding our pronouns. they think all of us are “delusional” about our natal sex. they think we’re all gender conforming. they dont take dysphoria seriously in general, ESPECIALLY males experiencing dysphoria (i get that your feminism doesnt have to be concerned with “men” but come on). misgendering is just disrespectful to me (idgaf about rapists, whatever use whatever pronouns you feel the need for those people.)

just in general some people dont get that trans people can still exist in a post-gender world? and you can still be critical of gender while respecting people’s pronouns? by their very nature i think the transmed, radfem, and especially gender critical communities are attractive to bullies so you have those flocking to it, and thats an issue but... yeah.

this answer has gone on long enough and im really sorry anon im sure you didnt sign up to read a 13 page essay. i just got lost in my thoughts and felt like i had a lot of explaining to do. i think my feelings are both simple and complicated so idk if i even really answered your questions, i hope i did..., ;;

#sorry in advance guys i literally never proofread #and i had family come over in the middle of me typing this so i lost my train of thought midway #i dont know where to put this but some last thoughts #the transpeople who insist they have nothing to do with their natal sex make us look like a fucking joke #like thats so easily exploitable by transphobic conservatives #and im tired of them having that leverage because theyre fucking idiots and dont deserve any sort of intellectual upperhand #gender theory has a lot of holes in it i think and its way too easy to poke at right now #also i think even more important than transmen its important for transwomen to acknowledge they arent the same as ciswomen #i know dysphorias a bitch i know it sucks i know it hurts #im trying not to let my privilege let me forget because i DO have a lot of privilege #but when we're talking about females as an oppressed social class #you dont neatly fit in & share that same experience #doesnt mean you dont have problems/face oppression! but its most likely because youre trans #not because of your identity #also my take on gender critical theory is that it just..... fits for me #i had that whole section about why its important to me #but i also dont really care that much about ppl still subscribing to gender theory #like you do you boo i just think it can be harmful sometimes #anyway #long post #radfem #gender critical #discourse #pine speaks

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