#second of all. that kind of language is so fucking harmful for people with ocd or just obsessions with morality

[phoebespenglers]

can we please stop telling people to kill themselves and to rot in hell and that they deserve to be bullied and that they are inherently horrible people who deserve to die and get doxxed. please. can we please stop doing that.

#like #okay first of all. do you understand the gravity of what youre saying or are you just throwing words into sentences #second of all. that kind of language is so fucking harmful for people with ocd or just obsessions with morality #because i mean not to make this abt Me (though this is kind of a vent ) but when i see people saying that it just. Sends me into spirals #because if people can say that to other people then what if they say it to me because i secretly believe the same things (even if i don't #-most of the time!) #what if im an inherently horrible person deep down? am i going to rot in hell for feeling slightly bad for this person? #i cant imagine that others dont feel like this or something along those lines. #im so fucking sick of death threats they do nothing. they do fucking jackshit except make more people feel terrible. #if you send death threats to people or say shit like this im blocking you. i dont want you in my space #bee.txt #moral ocd #scrupulosity

[kai-writes-fan-fiction]

In Hiding Part 6

Author’s Announcement: Hey guys! I really appreciate all of the recent feedback and the patience. My life has been pretty hectic these last few weeks, so as a reward for your patience, this is the longest part yet, and I’m really proud of it! I hope you all enjoy it!

P.S. Doctors scare me so sorry if the “medical” part of the story is shitty.

Word count: 2567

Warnings: mentions of blood, bodily harm, non-consensual medical treatment, reader is StRaNgLeD, tiny OCD routine, slight language, non-descriptive violence, and grammatical/spelling errors.

The Avengers were everything you hated. They were destructive, they took whatever they wanted without a thought about anyone else, and they loved behind a façade. You’d seen who The Avengers truly were; they were menacing, inhumane, and lacked empathy. They could’ve just left you alone; you weren’t hurting anyone. You may have been doing some illegal things, but they were minor offenses! You’d never killed, and you were against terrorism of any kind. You just wanted to go home, wanted to be left alone. Your freedom had been stripped away after you’d made your final decision. You wouldn’t fight with The Avengers; you’d do everything in your power to get away from them.

You looked up from the floor of your cell, into the eyes of Steve and Bucky, and you could tell they knew what was coming next. You were stronger than them; you could easily overpower them. They’d seen it earlier when you grabbed their wrists, and every second you sat in that godforsaken cell, you became more immune to the effect of the material blocking your powers around you.

You intimidated them, and you knew it. You knew that your time in this compound was running out, and soon you’d be free. Free. Free. Free. Free. You repeated the phrase in your head five times to lock it in.

You felt that you were ready to share your decision. “I’d never fight for you people, never. Never. Never! NEVER! NEVER!! You people are killers; you take everything for yourselves! You’ve destroyed cities, taken the lives of so many innocents. How can you live with yourselves?” You yelled. Your eyes had begun glowing, and your hair was lifted off of your head as your volume increased. “How?!” You questioned, your eyes shining brighter.

Steve and Bucky were backing into corners of your room, staring down at you. A blue aura began to form around you, illuminating the room in a vibrate blue. Your crossed legs began to levitate off of the ground, and a strong wind began to sweep through the room in a circular motion.

You didn’t want to fight, this trick took all of your energy, and the two super soldiers were helpless, so you decided this would be the perfect time to escape.

As soon as you turned to the wall farthest from the room, which you hoped would lead outside, a particularly strong wave of fatigue hit you. The wind and your aura began to dim, but Steve and Bucky knew not to lunge at you yet.

A string of mumbled curses fell from your mouth, and you let your feet descend onto the ground. This might conserve your energy so you could put more into escaping this wretched complex.

Being back on the ground and looking less powerful, Steve decided to go for it. He jumped forwards and wrapped his arms around you, pressing you into him; you could only wiggle your hands.

Lifting you off the ground, he tried to make it so you couldn’t use your feet as any leverage.

“Fucking dick!” You yelled, thrashing in his arms.

“Language!” He yelled.

You’d had enough of his bullshit and began thrashing more. His grip only tightened, but you were still stronger. There was a vent located right above you, so you flew out of his arms.

You tucked your legs into your chest after he tried to reach out for them and stretched your arms, reaching for the vent. You swiftly pulled it off its hinges and forced yourself into the circulation system.

The tunnels weren’t dissimilar to a maze, you tried to go in one direction, but after 20 or so corners, you have turned around. The alarms blaring throughout the compound, warning everyone of your escape, were bringing about an awful migraine, and you were becoming more and more fatigued by the minute. You wouldn’t stop, though.

You had heard a few voices in the tunnels with you, as well as footsteps. You made sure to avoid them, and after 10 minutes of wandering through the ventilation, you found an air vent to the outside. You pushed hard, and with the last bit of strength you had left, the vent became dislodged. You tumbled out and plummeted about two stories before hiding the ground with a painful ‘thud.’

You crumpled into a ball on the grass, and you felt blood trickle down your forehead. You could also no longer feel your right foot, meaning it was broken. Everything hurt, but your ribs were also a very obviously damaged part of your body. Every time you moved, you felt a shooting pain.

You slowly sat up and wiped the blood from your face, and the amount of blood on your hand was startling. You looked around other parts of your body to assess the damage and found that your knees and elbows were also bloodied, as well as a few scrapes here and there. You lifter up your blue scrubs to get a better look at your side, where a wide purple and blue patch was starting to form. Hesitantly, you placed two fingers on your side, looking for anything broken. The shooting pain was the response, and you pulled your hand away. It was most likely broken, as was your right ankle. It was also a swelling purple and blue mess, and the pain was begging to hit.

You let your eyes fall away from your body to look at your surroundings. You were greeted by vast green forest on all sides, and behind you stood The Avengers compound. It loomed over you, and you could still hear the alarms blaring from the inside. You struggled to get up, and, to no avail, did you.

So, you lay on the ground, your tribulation had failed, and you were doomed once more. You tucked yourself into a ball and cried.

‘How could you be so weak?’ You thought to yourself. ‘How could you let people like the Avengers-like HYDRA-control you like this?’

It would be best if you found somewhere to hide, and quickly. You wouldn’t let The Avengers control you anymore. You couldn't.

You pushed yourself up, so you were on your hands and knees, but you were weak, and I’m so much agony. You kept pressing on, though. You crawled your way to the forest and let yourself fall behind a tree. You must’ve hit a tripwire or a perimeter alert, as a new set of sirens went off and an automated voice yelled your location. You cursed, but you couldn’t go on much longer. With your injuries and your temporary inability to shift, you had to surrender.

—————Avenger POV—————

“We’ve got a location!” Tony yelled through the team's comms. “Kid’s headed East, and it looks like she’s stopped behind a set of trees. I can see her on cams.”

“Who should we send out there? You saw what she did to Steve and Bucky.” Implored Natasha.

“She looks pretty tired. We could probably take her if we needed to, but I don’t think a fight is in store.” Bucky advised.

“How about we all just go out there?” Steve added sarcastically.

“Oh yeah. Good idea, capsicle.” Tony agreed. “Everyone grab your things and meet me in the common room; we’ll all go out and surround her. Bucky, Steve, you go from the East. Natasha and Clint, you guys, take the North. Strange got here a few hours ago, so he and I will take the West. Loki, you’re just going to ignore me, so Thor, go with him and make sure he doesn’t do anything rash. And Bruce? You stay inside; we don’t want a code green, big guy.”

‘Okay’s and ‘mhm’s sounded through the Comms, and three minutes later, everyone was gathered in the common room, looking at one another surreptitiously, not knowing what would greet them on the other side of the doors. They didn’t know whether or not you’d be putting up a fight, but they were about to find out.

“We’re all here? Let’s go then.” Tony commanded. His suit's helmet fell over his face, and he strode forward, everyone else in close pursuit.

—————Your POV—————

You were weaving in and out of consciousness, and you still lay crumpled on the ground in your ball. You felt weak, and you couldn’t think straight. The world was a spinning vortex, and you almost thought you heard voices and feet. You opened your eyes and were met with the face of Tony once more.

SNAP! SNAP! In your face again, but with metal fingers instead of flesh. Tony likes snapping, it seems. You, however, did not. You attempted to growl to ward him off, but you couldn’t produce any kind of sound.

You turned your head slightly to face the rest of the team. They towered over you, weapons drawn and aimed at your face. Typically, you wouldn’t fear them, but in your fragile state, they were pretty threatening.

This wasn't very pleasant. You, one of the most powerful enhanced humans ever, were lying on the ground, bloodied and broken, at the will of The Avengers. They stared down at you, pity written all over their faces. Pity, not a feeling you wanted to be affiliated with.

Two metal arms reached out and wrapped around you, hoisting you up. A sudden rush of adrenaline caused your limbs to begin thrashing about, and the pain from your ankle and ribs subsided. Your sudden movement caused the metal arms encasing your body to pull you closer to the body they attached to. You felt the metal chest and put two and two together. You were in the mostly impenetrable arms of the Iron Man.

Tony picked you up carefully and began walking back into the compound, and the team followed suit. You tried to summon the adrenaline once more, but it didn’t want to come.

Feeling completely vulnerable, you decided to surrender. Yes, it was the cowards’ way out, but did you have another option? Your body was giving up on you, you couldn’t use your powers, and your opponents happened to be the killers of Thanos, another very powerful being.

There was no hope, so you just closed your eyes and allowed the sleep that had been creeping up on you to take over. Your vision faded into black, and the last thing you remembered was the mechanical hum of the Iron Man's suit.

——————————

You awoke to quiet chatter, and a beeping machine you could only assume was a pulse monitor.

As soon as your eyes fluttered open, your senses were flooded with a bright white and the smell of rubbing alcohol.

You looked up from your supine position to find yourself strapped to a table once more, but stronger and additional restraints were added this time. You still felt weak, and your side and ankle were aching, as well as your head.

An IV was embedded in your forearm, and as your eyes traveled the length of the tube up to the bag supplying it, you found it contained a thick blue substance. It must’ve been combating your powers because you couldn’t shift.

You took in your surroundings and found various members of The Avengers watching you. Creepy.

“Welcome back to the land of the living (Y/N).” Chuckled Tony, “You gave us quite a scare.”

The rest of the team went silent, and Bruce, dressed in a white lab coat, whipped around to face you and ran to your bedside. He whipped out a flashlight and shoved it in your face, his fingers following to hold your eye open while the flashlight shined in.

“Pupils are dilating, so no concussion.” He hummed, moving to your other eye.

He moved to pull a stethoscope from his neck and pressed the bell to your chest. You bit your tongue to stop from yelling out when the cold metal touched your bare skin. You must’ve bitten it when you fell because you sensed a metallic taste in your mouth. Bruce was in spitting distance, so you let the blood and saliva pool in your mouth, and you prepared to launch it towards him.

As soon as he lifted his head, you released your spit bomb. Bruce recoiled and began incessantly wiping his face with gloved hands. A hand flew around your neck, preventing you from spitting again.

Blood dribbled down your chin, and you looked up to the face the hand belonged to. It happened to be the winter soldier, and you grinned up at him, blood coating your teeth. He stared you down, and you did the same. The rest of the team just stood by, wearing “What The Fuck Just Happened” expressions.

Bucky finally released your neck, and Banner walked back over, blood-free and with duct tape.

“Shouldn’t have done that.” Tony mocked from behind Bruce as he and Bucky taped your mouth shut.

You tried to shake him off, but your movements were no use. Barnes had a firm grip on your head that prevented you from thrashing about, and Bruce was wrapping your face.

‘Duct tape is the best they can do?’ You thought to yourself. ‘Do they know that duct tape loses its stick when wet?’

You laughed to yourself, and Bruce and Bucky ceased their actions and looked up at you, as did the rest of the team.

“What’re you laughing about?” Bucky snarled.

You only shook your head and rolled your eyes. If they didn’t know, why tell them?

Banner ripped the tape and stepped back. Bucky released your head, and you stared up at the ceiling, hoping they’d all leave.

“The rest of you can go. Bucky, you stay here. I need help controlling her.”

“You got it, Banner.”

The rest of the team reluctantly left, leaving you, Bucky, and Bruce. You looked over to them and stared them down with undeniable murderous intent.

“So, uh, what’re we doing next?” Bucky turned to Bruce, who was still staring you down.

Bruce snapped out of his trance and looked over to Bucky. “She’s still got some injuries from her fall; I need to check those out. Do you have any medical training?”

Bucky nodded. “A little bit, from when I served. Just basic stuff.”

“We can work with that.” Bruce crossed his arms and walked in the direction of your injured ankle.

You tried to get away, but the power suppressors and restraints prevented you from doing anything, so you just wriggled around uselessly.

Banner pressed two fingers to your swollen and bruised ankle, and you bit your tongue to stifle a muffled scream. He moved his fingers to another part of your ankle, and you hit your head against the table to suppress another outcry.

“Bucky, can you grab some Ace bandage? I think the Talus is fractured. We’ll need an X-Ray to make sure, but I doubt she’ll cooperate.”

“I can make her, or we could try sedation.” Bucky offered.

Bruce seemed to rather like that idea, as his brows raised, and he procured a metal syringe.

Forcing it into your arm, you let out a muffled, yet surprised yelp. Immediately after the syringe was removed from your arm, your world began to darken, and you became dizzy.

You tried and failed to resist, but your body gave in, and the last thing you saw was Bucky and Bruce watching you.

To be continued…

Taglist: @oldtrashbin @fleurlovesbucky @hopefuloperaangelnerd @sevenmorningstars @dev-loves-siri @cinematicfanatic123 @sweetpeaflower01 @kinny-away @mangobangi @cumulonimbus34 @oakiedokie @coollemonsaresour @screechingshepherddeputygoth @trinity-1002107 @padmoonyfeorge @laurenced1l @vaaalexandra @big-galaxy-chaos @thoughtsdrought-blog @the-nonsenseblog @inlovewithjohnmulaney

@play-morezeppelin @hi-i-1 @ohashley101 @kaelyn-lobrutto24 @marvelfansworld

#avengers au #avengers x child!reader #avengers fic #avengers x fem!reader #avengers x platonic reader #avengers x plus size reader #avengers x teen!reader #avengers x you #the avengers #tony stark x teen!reader #tony stark x you #tony stark #bucky x enhanced!reader #bucky x y/n #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #tony stark smut #steve rogers x teen!reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x reader #stucky #mcu x reader #mcu memes #mcu imagine #loki smut #loki x y/n #loki #natasha x you

[carpathxanridge]

i just remembered something that i want 2 share because it relates to how a gender-based understanding of sexuality is not only illogical but leads to feelings of shame and confusion for ssa people.

in all of my experience of hearing online that lesbians can be attracted to dick, that genital preferences are transphobic, etc. it never personally got to me. that’s not to say that it didn’t make me walk on eggshells with my language, or fear rejection and ostracism from my community... it did. but i guess because the argument that lesbians can/should like dick is so transparently homophobic and comically identical to entitled male lesbophobia and conservative conversion therapy rhetoric, it never really impacted my own understanding of/security in my sexuality. i never for a second bought that not being attracted to dick was a genital fetish.

however, what did impact me was the flip side of this logic: that since trans men aren’t women, including trans men in lesbian sexuality is transphobic. my first relationship was with a trans man, but we started dating when he identified as nonbinary. and there’s a lot of reasons why that relationship fucked me up and was unhealthy, but when he came out as trans i didn’t believe that i’d been in a relationship with a man the whole time, or that either the relationship or my sexual orientation was null. i wouldn’t say it out loud, but i knew that this was true because he was female regardless of his gender identity.

but then over the years, my friends would tease me or side-eye me over that past relationship. at the time, my friend told me that i’d never kissed a girl before, and kind of mocked me for my lack of lesbian experience. and although i kind of agreed that those first kisses didn’t “count” for other personal reasons, i didn’t appreciate the comparison of my traumatizing first relationship with someone who i had a lot of genuine love for, to her differently traumatizing first relationship with a man. because i knew i never would’ve been able to feel that way (as complicated as it was) about a man! and she was projecting her own embarrassment about having been with a man before onto my first literally homosexual relationship in a way that made me very uncomfortable.

and yet even knowing that she was in the wrong and my relationship was not the literal same as dating a man, it still made me feel like crap. like i was somehow even more wrong for how i felt about an experience that already held a lot of baggage. like because my first relationship was deemed nullified, i myself was somehow an embarrassment. and this wasn’t the only time i was made to feel this way. once, i told my friend about how a girl i’d had a huge crush on came out as trans. and he insinuated that i had a fetish for trans guys, saying that it was a “weird pattern.” that made me feel so suddenly ashamed and wrong, in a way that genital fetish accusations never did when they came from the other side. and i also internalized similar sentiments just from being on tumblr. nothing was more transphobic and invalidating than a lesbian saying “i date cis women and trans guys,” and that absolutely couldn’t be me.

so when i developed a crush on a post-t trans guy last year, by then i was like “maybe this is a weird trend.” i knew i couldn’t pursue a relationship with him, because that would be pretty sus, and it was a minor and innocent enough crush that i probably wouldn’t have pursued it either way. but it caused me a lot of confusion and shame, because i just couldn’t make my feelings go away. it was a constant back and forth between berating myself for not perceiving him as male, and convincing myself that maybe i’m actually bisexual. i agonized over whether it counts as misgendering if i just allowed myself to have a crush on him while identifying as a lesbian. any moment as small as him smiling at me and me thinking “cute,” i would later obsess over. i have ocd, so it was very easy for my brain to latch onto this as a point of obsession. (especially because much of my ocd is moral scrupulosity-based, and we all know that the trans community uses a lot of guilt and moral accusation to coerce acceptance of their belief system.)

i think i only just processed exactly how hurtful those experiences were for me, and how much shame it created. it’s one thing to be called an evil pussy-loving dyke for your absence of attraction to men. but to be called a chaser or fetishist for active, present attraction is hard to ignore. just like being attracted to straight girls, when you already know your feelings are likely unwanted it’s even more hurtful to be compared to men’s sexual predation and fetishism. but being attracted to trans men is a perfectly natural expression of lesbian sexuality, and isn’t inherently predatory or wrong. and there are some trans men who feel connected to lesbian sexuality or identify as lesbians. gender identity-based understanding of sexuality invalidates lesbian experience. it is harmful and homophobic! and i won’t be made to feel guilty for my sexuality :)

#might delete later #but ugh this really fucked me up #radykal rambles

[ardellian]

I. Am very ANGRY.

For all the trans people who read this - you are amazing, you are brave, and fuck everyone who dares to tell you how you are allowed to express who you are.

Anyway I went through JKRs essay on trans issues and tried to deconstruct it because a prominent Swedish political figure just supported it and these are EXACTLY the kind of arguments I have had to counter and it SUCKS. I will have to sit through this shit being thrown at me again not far from now. So this is... venting, I guess. 

This is going to be long and if you want to understand it I guess you should read what she’s written; it’s on her homepage. But also don’t read it because it will probably make you sad and angry. It’s transphobic and ignorant, and just, please, stay away from it if you know that will make you feel like shit. I’m also going to be quoting her in the text below, so I’m putting it under a cut. 

M’kay. 

First, what even is she trying to say with this essay? She says she’s worried about the “new trans activism.” What exactly is worrying with this new activism? Well, she doesn’t say it outright, but it seems to be that she believes it’s getting too easy to transition. That the “rigorous process of evaluation, psychotherapy and staged transformation” is being eroded, and this is bad.

Through the essay I can find two main arguments she has to support this claim.

1. Cis youth (in particular cis girls) will be fooled into to thinking they’re trans. 

The UK has experienced a 4400% increase in girls being referred for transitioning treatment. Autistic girls are hugely overrepresented in their numbers. 

Littman mentioned Tumblr, Reddit, Instagram and YouTube as contributing factors to Rapid Onset Gender Dysphoria, where she believes that in the realm of transgender identification ‘youth have created particularly insular echo chambers.’

She also supports this idea by sharing a personal history of being uncomfortable with gender roles, and confusing that with gender dysphoria: 

“The allure of escaping womanhood would have been huge. I struggled with severe OCD as a teenager. If I’d found community and sympathy online that I couldn’t find in my immediate environment, I believe I could have been persuaded to turn myself into the son my father had openly said he’d have preferred.” 

“Fortunately for me, I found my own sense of otherness, and my ambivalence about being a woman, reflected in the work of female writers and musicians who reassured me that, in spite of everything a sexist world tries to throw at the female-bodied, it’s fine not to feel pink, frilly and compliant inside your own head; it’s OK to feel confused, dark, both sexual and non-sexual, unsure of what or who you are.” 

3. A concern that fake trans women invading women’s spaces would make “natal women” less safe:

“A man who intends to have no surgery and take no hormones may now secure himself a Gender Recognition Certificate and be a woman in the sight of the law. Many people aren’t aware of this.”

“When you throw open the doors of bathrooms and changing rooms to any man who believes or feels he’s a woman – and, as I’ve said, gender confirmation certificates may now be granted without any need for surgery or hormones – then you open the door to any and all men who wish to come inside. That is the simple truth.”

Okay. 

Let me make an observation here before I try to counter these points. She’s having very different problems with the ease of transitioning for trans women and trans men. If it’s too easy for trans women to transition, men will use this as an opportunity to prey on women. If it’s too easy for trans men to transition, young girls will be in danger of forsaking their womanhood. She clearly identifies with the young afab people who question their gender, but not with trans women who want to be recognized as such. Let that sit with you for a bit and I’ll see if I come back to it. 

Let’s see if I can argue against these two points first. 

1.  Cis youth (in particular cis girls) will be fooled into to thinking they’re trans.

Her statistics aren’t wrong. There has been a huge increase in trans youth. This increase is especially prevalent in neurodivergent afab people. Trans health care, at least where I live, is struggling with how to deal with this. Those diagnosed with autism spectrum disorders often have difficulties with feeling comfortable in their bodies and the language used around that can be similar to the language used around gender dysphoria. Many people are concerned, as JKR obviously is, that these people might think that transitioning would get rid of these symptoms, when in fact they stem from something completely different. These people may transition and still have these symptoms. They may be disappointed. 

The conclusion you’re implicitly supposed to draw from these statements, and those like what I quoted above, that these young trans people aren’t really trans. That they’re somehow being tricked by trans activists. You have to believe two other things for that: that young neurodivirgent people can’t interpret their own lived experience in a correct way, and that transitioning is harmful. 

Because why would it be a problem if a young person questions their gender, identifies as trans, transitions, and then changes their mind? Who cares if they have an autism diagnosis? It is only a problem if transitioning is bad for you. And the part that people like JKR seems to think is harmful is that they might have “altered their bodies irrevocably, and taken away their fertility”. But the unaltered body holds no moral superiority over the altered one. While fertility is something many people desire and something many who lack it grieve, it is not something that inherently gives your life more value. To JKR, the inherent harm of transitioning can only be justified if the person is really trans.

The tendency of a specific group to display a higher prevalence of identifying as trans is then used to cast doubt on their experiences. It’s a “social contagion” - they’re not really trans. But why does any of that matter? So what if a person identifies as trans because they see themselves in another��s story and go - that’s true for me too? Why can’t you believe them? 

Well. Because you don’t really believe trans people are real. You believe that when young people speak of dysphoria, they are referring to the experience you had when you were young. And you’re happy with being a woman now. So surely they just need to accept themselves for what they are and they won’t be trans anymore. 

I get it. I recognize myself in what JKR writes here. I felt “mentally sexless.”  I also “found my own sense of otherness, and my ambivalence about being a woman, reflected in the work of female writers and musicians” and this reassured me. Find a woman who has not during a period of their life hated their body, I dare you. The world we live in does cause women to have strange relationships with their bodies. And it’s very easy from there to make the logical leap to the idea that young trans men are just girls who never found that reassurance! I might have also thought so, if I hadn’t connected with trans men in my teens, and actually tried to understand their experience, and realized that my negative feelings about my body not living up to some standard of beauty, about not being woman enough in some way, and not wanting to be “pink and frilly”, was not the same as their experience. I mean - I didn’t like my body because I thought it should look like a beautiful woman’s body, but they felt bad about their bodies because they thought they shouldn’t look like women at all!  Young boys don’t find reassurance in texts about womanhood. Because they’re not women.

So I feel a bit sorry for her. Because I think that she sees herself in these young people, and it terrifies her - what if I could have turned out to be trans? But that would only be a problem if you think being trans is a problem. So maybe you could have been trans, JKR. Why does that bother you?

And god, if you want to talk about things that pressure young people into irrevocably altering their bodies, how about the  “rigorous process of evaluation, psychotherapy and staged transformation“ that tries over and over again to make sure, double sure, triple sure, that you really are what you say you are. Trans people who want access to gender-affirming care have to show no weakness - if you slip up and say that you might not want surgeries, that can be used against you and you get nothing. Trans people repeatedly say they have to perform their gender to the extreme in order for health care providers to believe them. They’re being questioned and doubted and pushed and to get through that, you have to dig in and fight. This is not a process that encourages careful consideration and doubts - it’s a system that says: all or nothing, hesitate and you’re out. 

So we get to her second argument:

3. A concern that fake trans women invading women’s spaces would make “natal women” less safe:

Here she draws a line between real trans women, who have passed through some rigorous testing process, and men who fake it. She uses her history of abuse as a cause to be worried about the safety of women if the gender binary were relaxed. The only argument she makes here is the one I already copied up there: 

When you throw open the doors of bathrooms and changing rooms to any man who believes or feels he’s a woman – and, as I’ve said, gender confirmation certificates may now be granted without any need for surgery or hormones – then you open the door to any and all men who wish to come inside. That is the simple truth. 

Let’s be charitable and say that she means men who would fake being women when she writes “any man who believes or feels he’s a woman“, and not trans women who just don’t perform womanhood according to her standards. But still the question remains - why oh why are you so scared of seeing a body that doesn’t agree with your ideas of a woman in a changing room? If that “fake trans woman” is there, and doing nothing wrong, then why are you so bothered about it? Why? Is the sight of male secondary sex characteristics inherently harmful to women? No! Are you afraid that someone might experience sexual attraction when looking at your body? Then do you think lesbians should also have separate changing rooms? No, you obviously don’t! Sexual harassment is never acceptable, and just because you have a same-sex space doesn’t make that space immune to it. Opening it up to non-conforming bodies does not make sexual harassment somehow acceptable. Those who enter spaces with sexual harassment in mind should be dealt with - but the presence of non-normative bodies is not sexual harassment. 

Trans women are women, JKR says, and I sympathize with them - but only if they display their womanhood in a way that agrees with my idea of it. And they’re not like me. Only if they have the right kind of bodies, have gone through medical procedures, want to do these surgeries, will I extend my pity.

And fuck that.  

Look, the kind of logic she presents here paints trans people into a corner where the only acceptable way of being is to subscribe to a certain kind of body. Which harms the very people she claims she wants to protect - young people questioning their gender. Especially non-binary people, whom she doesn’t even acknowledge. 

And now let’s stop being charitable - JKR doesn’t believe trans people exist. She believes that those who say they are trans are tragically confused and we should only accept their words because we are nice. We should accept their delusions because we pity them. She doesn’t understand her own opinions this way, I’m sure. But fuck her understanding. 

She’s upset because the idea of “womanhood” is moving away from her. She feels - I’ve felt this too! - that this push for increased inclusiveness is taking the focus from the real issues. Things that affect all women. But claiming that women have “unifying realities that make them a cohesive political class” is something that white women say. When anyone talks about “the real issues”, they usually mean “issues that affect me.”

I mean that’s privilege 101, people. 

Ugh.

In conclusion, I’m still angry. 

#jk rowling #jkr #transphobia #i'm sorry for venting on you #please don't interact with this if you know it will hurt you #look to be prefectly clear i am a cis woman so if i'm out of line let me know #i would be happy to stand corrected #but i #i'm just fucking tired

[bruthbanner]

tattered and torn pt. 1

a bruce banner x oc fic i’ve been working on for the past three hours. found it fit to post online for no other reason but self indulgence. 

WARNING! this fic can and WILL contain the following triggering topics. if they are unsuitable for your consumption, DO NOT READ IT. it’s bruce banner. he’s fucked up. you try writing a kid friendly fic about a guy who tried to shoot himself dead. 

topics include: 

-self harm

-depression

-suicide

-descriptions and discussions of abuse

-brief mentions and discussions about DID 

-discussion of anger issues 

-discussion of body modification

-swearing/strong language

-in depth descriptions of violence/gore 

i’m writing this in the hopes that some people will feel less alone in their battles against the same demons bruce may have. this is mainly a therapeutic fic, for myself and others.

uwu thats all. stay safe. if you relate to anything characterized in this fic, seek help. if you cannot, don’t hesitate to speak to me. i’m always here for you. 

Inpatient Name: Banner, Robert Bruce          -          Date: August 24th, 2005

Acute Inpatient Psychiatry Unit (AIPU), S.H.I.E.L.D Headquarters, [redacted location]

First clinical session with patient. 13:05. 

Patient Information: 

Male, age 34. 138 lbs, 5’9”. 

Vital Statistics:

BP 128/62. HR in normal range. Temp 36.4. 

Preexisting Physical Conditions: 

Myopia. None other reported.

Preexisting Psychological Conditions:

Suspected IED. Some signs of OCD. TBD.

Notes:

Patient dislikes referral to “alter-ego”. Becomes visibly stressed when prompted about Culver University incident (April 16, 2005). 

Initial Response 

Patient is visibly stressed. Patient began to pace before psych’s arrival. Patient is in “safe room” due to suspected harm to others, possibly himself. Patient does not require restraining. 

Question period began. Patient sat on the edge of the bed. Looked into his hands, then onto the floor. Patient glanced up at camera, then back to face the psych. 

Transcription: 

Psych (P): Hello Bruce. My name is Dr. Melendes. I hear that’s how you prefer to be referred as, is that correct? [she folds her hands over her laptop’s keys.]

Patient (B): Yes. 

P: Do you know why you’re here? 

B: Yes. [patient appears anxious, fidgety]

P: Would you care to tell me, Bruce?

B: Not really, no. 

P: I suppose we’ll move on then. [she types something on her laptop. Inscription reads: Patient avoids answering question. Signs of stress evident.]

P: How are you feeling, right now?

B: A little uneasy. It’s too bright in here. Too cold. Just uncomfortable. 

P: I understand. Give me a moment. [she turns to the technicians and motions for them to turn down the lights.] 

P: I’m afraid that’s all I have liberty to do at the moment. Is that a tad better? 

B: Yeah. Thanks. 

P: Do you know where you are? 

B: No. They took me here when I was unconscious.

P: You’re at one of S.H.I.E.L.D’s headquarters. You’ve been admitted to the AIPU. You’re aware of what that is?

B: Yeah. Been in one of these before.

P: Your stay here isn’t going to differ much from any other AIPU’s you might’ve been to. Our focus is to keep you relaxed, safe, and eventually get you back into the world without harming yourself and others. Sound like a plan? 

B: Okay. 

P: So, Bruce, do you have any family or close relatives that we may need to contact? 

B: No. Parents passed away, wife left a few months back. 

P: That must be a difficult situation. 

B: I guess. Hasn’t really hit me yet. 

P: [types something into her notes. Inscription reads: Compartmentalization? Possible emotional trauma.] Do you have any friends, Bruce?

B: If I did, that’d be news to me. 

P: Somewhat of a loner, I’m guessing? 

B: More or less. 

P: I know you’re uncomfortable with the topic, but can we discuss the elephant in the room? 

B: You’re talking about him, aren’t you? [patient emphasizes the word “him”, wringing his hands.]

P: So you see him as a separate entity, correct? 

B: I don’t know. I know I’m in there somewhere when he comes out. It’s just cluttered in my head right now. 

P: Can you tell me what it’s like when he- [she gestures to patient] 

B:-Hulk. That’s his name. I think.

P: Alright. Can you describe the experience when Hulk takes the reins? How, and if, you see, hear, feel, etcetera?

B: It’s kind of fuzzy. Everything hurts for a second when I’m- [patient inhales deeply. he runs a hand through his hair.] 

B: When I’m transforming. But then it stops, and I’m just so mad. Just angry. Scared, too. Terrified, even. But it’s not me. It can’t be. I hardly see what’s going on outside. It’s like looking through a fogged up window. Sometimes I can’t see at all. But I can always hear, though. Have you ever done that thing where you stand in a doorway and press against the walls, and then your arms raise up without you moving them? 

P: I have.

B: It feels like that. I can feel it happening. I know it’s happening. But it’s not me in control. 

P: What about when you are in control? Do you think this entity- Hulk- thinks the same? 

B: I don’t know much about what he thinks. Only what he feels. So far, he’s kinda non-verbal. Only makes sounds in my head. Nothing more than that. 

P: Alright. [she writes this down, along with the words: IED? some signs of DID. Separate entity/alter. Classification unknown, due to entity/alter having technical physical presence outside host body.]

P: What can we do to help you?

B: I just want to go home. 

P: I know. And if I had my way, you would, granted you receive some sort of outpatient therapy. Unfortunately, I don’t make the big decisions around here. I’ll put in a word with the director, though. You seem quite stable, from what I see. So far, I’ll be prescribing you with a mild anti-anxiety medications to lower your unease and discomfort here. 

B: Alright. 

P: Is there anything you’d like to speak with me about, while I’m here? Concerns, stuff of that sort?

B: I don’t think so. Sorry to be taking your time, doctor. 

P: It’s alright, it’s what I do. [she gives him a small smile, and motions for the technicians to cut the recording.]

The tape goes dark.

#bruce banner #bruce banner x oc #bruce banner fic #avengers #bruce banner headcanon #depression tw #suicide tw #self harm tw #did tw #ied tw #abuse tw #hulk #hulk x oc #uwu #therapeutic fic #self indulgent fic

[master-sass-blast]

Strong as Stone --Part Fifty-One.

So, apparently, Tumblr removed the “dash” function that I used to separate my scenes from each other. Which means I had to develop a completely new system while editing this update. Yay.

*insert OCD rage here*

Anyway.

Last time, we got to see Okoye meet the rest of her biological family! Actual yay!

This time, we get to see the aftermath of the South Korea mission --and get a much needed girls’ night.

Rating: T for language and mild angst.

Pairings: Okoye x M’Baku and T’Challa x Nakia.

Author’s note: We’ve got a maximum of eleven chapters before this story’s done! I can’t believe we’re in the final stretch. After over a year of sticking with this story, it’s hard to wrap my head around.

Taglist: @the-last-hair-bender, @skysynclair19

As a nation, we are blessed with advanced technology, weaponry, and information gathering ability. As such, there will be times that you or the King you will serve will know about disasters and wars before they come to fruition.

Our vibranium is a gift from Bast, and it is our duty to use it wisely, for the betterment of others.

It is not, however, our duty to save the world from itself. Know when to step into fights and when to stay clear of them, my dears.

***

Okoye pursed her lips. “Shit.”

Ayo grimaced in response. “I know.”

When Ayo had called her earlier that week to warn her that the “haul” from the HYDRA base in South Korea was going to be large, Okoye had expected a decently lengthy list or two, maybe a moderate amount of paperwork to go with.

She hadn’t expected the codes to every nuclear cache held by every country, along with confidential government emails, security measures used to protect heads of state, and placements of classified, active military teams, to name a few.

Every conceivable detail, every dossier and file, every single dirty, war starting secret there was, they’d found.

“This is bad,” Okoye murmured, feeling the blood drain out of her face. “This is really bad. If we get caught with this kind of information—”

“HYDRA will paint us as the villains,” Ayo finished. “Easily. The release of the SHIELD files barely did anything to slow them down. This—”

“This definitely won’t.” Okoye pressed her fist against her mouth as she sat back in her seat. “We can’t even run the end of alerting everyone that their information’s been taken. There’s no way to paint the picture without making a mess of ourselves.”

“This also raises the question of how widespread they really are,” Ayo pointed out, expression equally as grave. “Do they have operatives in every nation, or did they manage to collect all of this remotely?”

“That wasn’t the question I had.” Okoye clicked back to the top of Ayo’s mission report. “You said that the base was barely guarded.”

“Right. It was… odd.”

“It was. And now we’re in possession of the world’s secrets.”

“What are you thinking?”

Okoye drummed her fingers against the top of her desk as she tried to find the right words. “Having a… collection point for electronic files makes sense. It could act as a backup if an email system or server got hacked or went down. But if you were going to make a physical site with everything you collected, wouldn’t you make it harder to break into?” When Ayo nodded, she went on. “Having a backup site for electronic files makes sense. But pooling all your physical weapons into one remote location? Instead of distributing them to all active cells?”

“You think we’re being set up?”

“Either that, or led on a goose chase.” Okoye sighed and rubbed her temples. “We’ve been handed a bomb. We need to figure out how to disarm it before it goes off.”

“It would be easy to delete everything from our systems,” Ayo suggested. “If we don’t have it, there can’t be any chances of someone discovering we have it and accusing us of ill intent.”

“Which raises the question: do we have the moral obligation to comb through everything in search of threats? You’ve seen what’s in this list. Do we need to go through everything and handle things before they spiral out of control?”

Ayo pursed her lips. “I don’t know. I don’t even know if that’s our job.”

“It’s not America’s job to have military cells illegally active in the Middle East, either,” Okoye muttered. She glanced over the list once more, then shut it off with a huff. “I’ll speak with the King about this; he’s the only one who can decide if we act or not. In the meantime, have Jhanvi figure out how HYDRA got their hands on all of this information. We need to know how many people we’re dealing with.” She nodded to Ayo as she left, then contacted T’Challa through her kimoyo beads to set up an emergency appointment. Bast, please let there be a safe answer to all of this.

***

T’Challa’s face went ashen when she told him about everything they’d unearthed in the South Korea base. “This is not good.”

“That does seem to just about sum up the situation,” Okoye agreed.

T’Challa sighed and sat back against his throne.

They’d elected to meet in the throne room, given that it was the midpoint between where they’d both been when Okoye had sent the meeting request. The room was empty, save for them and the secrets Okoye had just shared. In the waning light of the ending day, it felt less like a command center where countless meetings on the nation’s future had been held and more like a tomb.

And all these secrets might just send us to ours.

“Do you think we’re being set up?” T’Challa asked as he looked up at Okoye.

“It makes sense,” Okoye said. “I’m having Miss Singh look through everything for any indications of a set up, but until we find proof there’s no way of knowing. And, in the meantime, we have a more pressing question: do we have a moral obligation to use the information we have to head off as many possible wars and disasters as we can, or is it better to delete it all and possibly save incriminating ourselves with good intentions?”

T’Challa rubbed his temples, expression weary. “As much as I loathe to say it… it’s not our job to save the world. We can’t try to stop every other nation from committing atrocities. Besides, preventing them from happening won’t change the attitudes and policies that created them; there’s no sense in cutting off leaves if we have no way of reaching the roots.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then exhaled and nodded to himself. “Delete this list. It will only bring us grief.”

Okoye bowed her head. “Yes, my King.”

T’Challa sighed, then smiled tiredly. “How’s your baby doing?”

One of her hands automatically went to the swell of her abdomen. “Good, as far as the doctors say. I miss drinking coffee. How is the Queen?”

“Good,” T’Challa said with a smile. “She misses drinking coffee, too.”

“Did she threaten you with bodily harm while going through the caffeine withdrawals?”

“Only once or twice.”

“She had more restraint than I did,” Okoye muttered, smirking when T’Challa chuckled.

***

“Do we have enough boxes?” Ayo asked as she surveyed Okoye’s apartment.

“There’s never enough boxes,” Djabi replied. “You’ll think you’re done, and then ten thousand other things that need boxing will appear out of nowhere.”

They’d called a “Girl’s Night” to help Okoye pack up her apartment; she and M’Baku had found a new, more spacious place in Birnin Zana –closer to the palace to boot—which meant that she had to pack up her belongings.

And then M’Baku had been called up to the Jabari lands to handle some official tribal business –some sort of agriculture related dispute from the sounds of things—and Aneka had taken the opportunity to make the event an official “Girl’s Night,” given that it’d been a while since the four of them had been able to spend time with each other.

“We should have enough,” Okoye said. “I’m not packing clothing and bedding until we’re completely ready to move, so we should be fine.”

There was a quick rap at the door, and then Aneka popped in, followed by Natasha Romanoff.

Okoye had hesitated to invite the Russian agent until Aneka had assured her the Natasha was genuinely unobtrusive –and Ayo had supported her girlfriend’s claims when Okoye had asked her second-in-command for a second opinion.

Besides, extra hands were extra hands.

“Welcome to the packing party,” Djabi said, nodding her head in greeting at Natasha. “There’s beer and wine in the kitchen.”

“And herbal tea for those of us who can’t have alcohol,” Okoye grumbled as she sipped from her glass.

“It’s good for the baby!” Aneka said cheerily as she hugged Ayo in greeting.

Natasha merely smiled and nodded. “Well, thank you for inviting me along –and I’m happy to help, of course. How’s the baby doing?”

“Growing,” Okoye said tiredly. “I thought I wasn’t supposed to get back pain until later.”

“My sister said that she only had back pain with her boy babies,” Djabi commented. “You might be having a boy.”

“That’s just a superstition,” Aneka interjected. “Aside from genitalia, the only discernable differences between fetuses are heartbeat rates.”

“No, it makes sense,” Ayo argued. “Male babies tend to carry more weight, which puts more strain on the mother’s body.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Natasha said mildly as she began to help Djabi box up some books. “I can’t have children.”

Aneka frowned. “Do the Avengers have a policy against kids? I thought they were more open-minded about that.”

“No, nothing like that,” Natasha replied after a moment. “Tony made sure the policy was inclusive and supportive. It’s just me that can’t have kids. All Black Widow agents are sterilized before they enter the field.”

The room went deathly silent as Okoye, Ayo, Aneka, and Djabi all stared at each other, then at Natasha, eyes wide with horror.

“Why did they need to do that?” Aneka asked, finding her voice first. “Were you sick?”

Natasha shook her head. “It’s to prevent us from becoming mothers; they said it was ‘the one thing that might distract us away from being agents.’”

“Categorically false,” Djabi muttered. “I’ve had plenty of sex that would persuade me to stop being a Dora. Fuck, I’ve eaten food that would persuade me to stop being a Dora.”

They all laughed, and the tension in the air abated.

“I hope this isn’t your way of saying you’re dissatisfied with your job,” Okoye teased.

“No, it’s my way of saying that if I could spend the rest of my life eating good food and having even better sex, I would.”

“Doesn’t sound like a bad way to live life,” Natasha agreed with a smirk. “I take it the Dora are much more open to motherhood?”

“Comparatively, it’s not much of a bar to step over,” Ayo pointed out.

“Fair enough.”

“I get to keep my job, if that’s what you’re asking,” Okoye said. “I just have to stop field missions for a while for my own safety.”

“So you get maternity leave? Healthcare benefits?” Natasha asked.

“Obviously,” Okoye said. “And Wakanda has national healthcare.”

“Most nations don’t have a form of national healthcare,” Natasha pointed out.

“Most nations are run by idiots,” Ayo grumbled as she wrapped a vase in bubble wrap.

Natasha chuckled. “Fair enough.”

“Would you ever want to have kids, Agent Romanoff?” Aneka asked. “There’s a lot of options available with surrogacy, adoption, and fostering.”

“I’ve never really thought about it,” Natasha admitted as she taped a box shut. “Admittedly, my line of work wouldn’t make raising a kid easy, and I do like my job. I’ve made a lot of enemies over the years, too; I don’t think I’d want to bring a kid into all of that. Besides, I get to be an aunt to Agent Barton’s kids, which basically alleviates most of the kid related desires I could have.”

“That’s good,” Aneka said with a smile.

“Oh, that reminds me,” Okoye said. “The Princess and her team recently made a breakthrough. They managed to construct a function uterus and ovaries out of synth-organic material. It has potential for both transgender women and women who struggle with infertility or have sustained injuries to their reproductive organs.”

Aneka clapped her hands. “That’s incredible!”

“Alternative: I just donate my uterus and ovaries,” Djabi said. “I’d be so happy to get rid of them and my menstrual cycle.”

“And here I thought we wouldn’t find a way to make organ trading legal,” Ayo quipped.

Natasha snorted, but her smile was a little melancholy. “I think I’ll have to stick with the Barton kids until the rest of the world catches up.”

Okoye regarded the Avenger for a moment before speaking. “If that was something you wanted, we’d make sure you got it.”

Natasha blinked at her, stunned, then smiled softly. “Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind.”

They worked in silence for a few minutes, focusing on boxing up various keepsakes and books.

“So, what’s it like, working with the King?” Natasha asked.

Okoye, Ayo, Djabi, and Aneka all looked at each other.

“I mean—” Aneka started.

“He’s alright,” Djabi said.

“He’s a good ruler and boss,” Okoye added.

“He once walked into a door because he got distracted looking at his wife,” Ayo said.

Natasha choked on a laugh. “No way. Really? He seems so… dignified.”

Okoye rolled her eyes. “The Queen –before she was his wife—was on a mission when the King was scheduled to go through the coronation rites. He and I went in to extract her; he got so distracted when he saw her that he literally froze. I had to step into to make sure he didn’t get his ass handed to him.”

“Wow. Honestly, that sounds like half the men I work with. More than half.”

“Even Captain America?” Aneka asked. “He seems like he has it together. Mostly.”

“He’s one of the worst,” Natasha asserted. “He’s a massive dork.”

“Okay, you can’t say shit like that and not back it up!” Djabi insisted.

Natasha smirked. “Well, then, I guess it’s a good thing I have plenty of stories to tell.”

***

Okoye nearly dropped the picture frame she was holding. “No! He did not!”

“He did!” Natasha insisted, sounding nearly as irate as Okoye did. “He took off his helmet because the fucker asked him to! And fought him!”

“I mean, at least he won,” Aneka offered, trying to find some sort of bright side.

“That doesn’t matter!” Ayo nearly shouted, aghast. “You do not take off your armor in a fight! Especially when an enemy asks you to!”

“Trust me, it gets worse,” Natasha said. “He jumped out of an elevator.”

Djabi shrugged. “Okay, well—”

“Eleven stories up.”

“What!” the four of them exclaimed in unison.

“He fell through a glass roof and had only his shield between him and ground when he hit it.”

Okoye stared at Natasha, then shook her head. “No. That’s impossible.”

“I agree.” Djabi pointed a finger at Natasha. “You’re fucking with us.”

“I swear I’m not!” Natasha said between bursts of laughter. “And it still gets worse. He stole his old uniform from the forties out of the Smithsonian and wore it to go fight a super assassin on a Hellicarrier. You know, lighter armor, doesn’t hold together as well—”

“Men,” Ayo spat out as she rubbed her temples. “Are so fucking stupid.”

“I’m not disagreeing with you,” Natasha said as she wiped at her eyes. “Not in the slightest.”

Okoye opened her mouth to make some sort of similar comment, but was cut off by the emergency call chirp coming from her kimoyo beads.

T’Challa looked up at her when she answered, expression grave. “Turn on the news. The international station.”

Aneka grabbed the remote off the coffee table. She turned the TV on and flipped to the appropriate channel. “What—”

An image of Brazil flashed on the screen, accompanied by a reporter’s voice.

“Several warheads containing a more aggressive version of the Zika virus were released from an unknown location inside Brazil today. Most of the targeted nations were able to safely disarm the warheads before they made contact, but both Mexico City and the Honduras were hit before the disarming process was completed. The United Nations has already sent medical aid to both of the affected regions. Authorities are unsure if this was a terror attack or not—”

“We’ve also tracked several shipments heading out of Brazil,” T’Challa added as the reporter continued reading through their script. “HYDRA is mobilizing.”

“I’ll contact Steve,” Natasha said, phone already in hand. “I can have my team ready in two hours.”

Okoye nodded at Ayo. “Get your people ready, too.”

“This only reinforces the ‘goose chase theory,” Ayo pointed out.

“I know. But right now, we can’t afford to not give chase.” She turned to look at the TV screen once more, brow furrowing with worry as she took everything in. Bast, please let us get on top of this quickly.

#sass writes #black panther fanfiction #okoye x m'baku #t'challa x nakia #getting towards the end of this story #i'm legit emotional #wakanda forever

[kylpyvene-blog]

Mental health

Many people are saying that you can't diagnosise (I dunno how to spell that, my apologies) yourself a mental illnes. This is true, it has to be made by a doctor. BUT, keep your eyes open for what is normal and what's not. Panic attacks are normal, everyone has them sometimes (I think?) but having them many times per month is not. It's not normal to not be able tp do anything in months. Barely getting out of bed, coming from work/school and going back to bed, if you even can leave. It is NOT normal to have weeks/months of not feeling anything, not emjoying anything you like. Self harm is not normal. Also many people say, that mental illnesses are not real illnesses, that they are not hard to deal with, that we should just stop whining. Fever only lasts couple days, maybe a week. It is still taken more seriously than mental illnesses, which can last decades. It's kinda like cancer, if you don't get help, you might die to it. Cancer is also taken more seriously. Of course it is also very serious, but we should start taking mental ilnesses mire seriously. Then there are people who romanticaises (English is not my first language) mental illnesses. That they are cool and nice. Tgat you don't need to do anything with it. People like "I took one internet test that said I have depression so now I have it ::DDDD"- they make me mad. It is not fun. Also depression isn't the only one. OCD, social anxiety and PTSD are all very extremely awful illnesses. My friend has trichotillamania (You pull your bodyhair off, like your eyelashes and eyebrows, but you really can't stop yourself). They have said that these people who want mental illnesses, should get that, but nobody wants it bc "Its not cute. It affects how I look ::((((" Then there's 13rw.. Its an awful show. I don't care if you like it. The hole idea of it is, that suicide is beautiful. Its not. It really isn't. It's the most selfish thing you can do. Suicide is a desision made by person and they only are resposible for it. Hannah was bullied, but she could have tried to tell someone, try more (like her parents, ya know). Some people have actually copied it. Doctors and experts were against showing suicide on screen. They did. They are making second season. It really is fucked up. The tapes, how Hannah blames everyone for her problems, yes they were awful, but all of it was really unrealistic. Show doesn't talk about mental illnesses, which it should. You can't love someone healthy. They need to recover little by little, eat some medicines, talk about their feelings. Yes, mental ill people need love and understandment too, but those aren't only thing you need. Show doesn't show what kind of mental illnesses Clay, Hannah's parents and rest have. Suicide affects everyone near you and can/will make them too have some mental illnesses caused by your death.

#mental health #mental illness #important