#in response to symptoms that were distressing you too
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is wishing you could be a system a symptom of being one? i was reading your blog yesterday and i got very very sad, and other system content will often make me sad because i relate to feeling like, in system terms, an original personality/memory holder who is too sad and traumatized to function and doesnt want to front, only its like i always have to be me no matter how much i hate me, and hate existing. so as a result i just dont function really. i relate to stuff you said about shutting down when in too much distress, like going emotionally numb, and i also dissociate a lot. but even when my mind is on something else and im acting different, its not really like switching to a different mode of awareness. i think it might be better if it was. i wish i was an alter so i could go dormant forever. im scared that its too late to completely rehaul how i conceptualize... living, thinking, being, etc... im scared i have to be me forever. im not sure this is a normal or appropriate way to feel... and im sorry for asking something so emotionally loaded too. i dont even know what im asking really... i guess just, if you have any advice, and if you ever felt this way before you realized you were a system, and how you realized. thanks if you answer. sorry
Hi, i wanted to try and write a helpful response however it ended up being Way Longer than i expected to say anything substantial so it's under the cut
I can't really give a 100% certain answer to your question—Symptoms like emotional shutdown and dissociation in response to stress/trauma are also possible without necessarily being a system, ultimately I can't say whether or not you are one (it took me a while to even say whether or not I was one haha). I personally didn't have the experience of wishing i could be a system before i figured it out, but I think I've heard from some other systems that they did experience that; I suppose it's different for everyone.
i'd try to give a more helpful response about how i realized i was a system but i actually don't remember very much about it—I guess I was always aware that I had an "other state" of myself with Very distinctly different mannerisms from my own who was pretty consistently "triggered out" by specific situations (the other state was also aware of themself like "oh, i'm in This Mode again"), and then eventually i thought "that might not be normal actually" and started researching about dissociative disorders some more
Regardless of whether or not you have alters/are an alter, I don't think going dormant would solve the problem, even though I absolutely understand the feeling. While we were still discovering our system we were in a pretty bad place, and when we discovered our own emotion-holder she was very angry and sad—which scared me initially, and i Kind of Wished that she would disappear or that I could just be A Normal Regular Singular Person. A while later I calmed down and realized it was not productive to wish things like that, so I tried talking to her and telling her that it was okay to feel angry, but that things can be better now than in the past and we are capable of healing—treating her with compassion
I think having a conversation with A Literal Part of Myself that held our anger and sadness was helpful, but I also think it's possible to do something similar even if you're not a system—to treat yourself with compassion too, I guess is what I'm getting at here.
I didn't think it would get better, but it did. I mean it took a while and there were ups and downs , but as long as you're still here it is never to late to learn to live again and to recover
Ultimately, everyone's circumstances are different and maybe what helped me doesn't apply the same way to you, but please try to remember that things can get better. Healing is possible, i wish you the best
#summarizing the multiparagraph long response the important part is that healing and getting better is possible regardless of whether you're#a system or not and also do not give up hope#ask
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I've seen a lot of posts discussing the "helpless husband" issue where husbands will insist they can't do household tasks or purposely do a bad job to get out of them - and I'm glad it's getting discussed! This is a problem that hasn't gotten much recognition and I'm glad it's rightfully coming to awareness. But I also see a lot of comments about how certain tasks are things that "everyone knows by that point"
I'm 20+ and learning basic food safety. I learned things like "put things in the fridge when they've cooled off" and "check the temperature of your meat is okay," but things like "if the Jello has melted it's no longer good to eat," "that sandwich will still go bad by the next day even in the fridge," "drinks cannot sit out indefinitely and still be good," or "there is a limit to how long that food can sit out before it becomes unsafe" are things I've had to actively learn with the help of my (very concerned) friends. My reality testing center is broken, so my brain tends to wildly over- or underestimate the likelihood of events or can't process the idea of certain outcomes going poorly. My sense of direction, time, and size are extremely bad, to my own constant frustration. I know a lot about a lot of things and am generally pretty successful. But I end up struggling a lot with things that "everyone knows"
The actual rude behavior also tends to get lumped in with genuine mistakes. I now know that my father was likely autistic, and it explained a lot of his behaviors that we'd thought were baseless rudeness - overreacting to "small" things, not noticing certain issues, convenient "selective hearing." But he also willingly did things that were legitimately rude (going out of his way to ignore a problem he caused, lying about us, refusing to do things out of spite). When I personally "ignore" things, most of the time it's because I didn't see them at all and didn't know there was a problem, or I said I'd do it, didn't write it down fast enough, and genuinely forgot about it. This stuff isn't all in the same category. Some is honest difficulty, some is intentional cruelty
Basically, don't excuse men who are intentionally putting the burden of household chores on their partner, because it's a very normalized kind of manipulation and needs to be called out. If someone is not willing to learn ("no you just always do it so much better"), seems to be purposely messing up and is unwilling to actually try to improve (making it easier for you to just do it yourself than to teach them, again), or hides behind "complimentary" stereotypes ("women are just better at that stuff, I wouldn't even know where to start"), that's manipulative and needs to stop. But a person not noticing or forgetting things, needing clear instructions, not knowing something "basic," or being legitimately unable to do something is not the same thing. If they understand and are willing to contribute, open to finding ways they can help ("I can't wash dishes, but I can dry and put away or vacuum") or workarounds for issues ("I can try washing dishes with gloves on," "we can make a list of chores to check every day and keep it somewhere clear and visible," "I can set another reminder about trash day every week"), this is not automatically manipulative behavior. A lot of issues that come with neuro or mental disabilities get read as intentional or malicious, and it's understandable that, from the outside, they can sometimes look the same. This is not excusing men who exploit this issue and make these conversations necessary to begin with. It's just a small request to keep folks with neuro issues in mind when you generalize this type of thing or rush to judge
#m/cc#mine#I think every person with ADHD has experience with being accused of intentional misbehavior or carelessness#in response to symptoms that were distressing you too#'oh you just 'didn't notice' the dishes?' yes#and if you ask me to do them I gladly will#'if you really cared you'd notice/remember' 'if you cared about your work you'd have checked it enough to get rid of mistakes'#'why can't you just get over your symptoms?'#I've had this kind of thing with all of my neuro issues - being constantly accused of doing the wrong thing intentionally#because I didn't care enough or wanted to be lazy and make others pick up the slack#when someone starts viewing you though that lens though everything you do becomes evidence that you're selfish#honest mistakes stop being seen as an explanation. everything is being done out of manipulation and cruelty#explanations are heard as lies#this experience is overwhelmingly common for neurodivergent people in particular#I dunno I've just been having some thoughts on things that 'everyone knows' if they're an adult#('how did he make it this long if he supposedly can't [x]?' I don't know either but I gotta learn sometime so I'm learning now)
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can you PLEASE write some fluff/comfort for your angst Luffy writing? 😫 i wanna give him forehead kisses and cuddles PLEASE
(it was amazing btw!!!)
Anon I know what you asked for but imma make this a series and giving this to yall next time, but life has been interesting (derogatory) since the beginning of February 😋
Pt 1 not your fault
Tags: angst, hurt/comfort, like one mention of blood, no harm tho its used as an expression, please know it's okay to ask for help sometimes, mention of skipping meal.
Wc 1.3k
It's been some time since you found him crying, the only immediately noticeable change is Luffy seems to be more aware of you and touch you than before. Maybe that's why he noticed your disappearance today. The reason why he's noticed every flinch within the last week, the tears that started to well up but didn't fall when you dropped a teacup, trying your best to laugh it off as Sanji and robin assured you it was okay. The moment of deep breaths after any loud sounds, Luffy swears he saw your soul leave your body when Usopp and Franky started to try something new with Sunny's cannon. Zoro was there to notice the last one too joking about you being jumpy, your captain surely noticed you becoming quieter after that moment.
So when he walked into your room without knocking, he didn't mind being hit in the face with the pillow you threw. Not knowing or caring who it might have been, only focused on the darkness of being hidden under the covers. You heard his footsteps come closer as he tried to figure out where your head was. When it was located he sat down and pulled you into his lap. Not bothered to move the plush fortress you are surrounded in. Being so close to him helped, your body relaxed at the contact, not knowing how much you may have needed the connection.
"You missed breakfast, Sanji said you missed dinner as well."
Knowing this isn't exactly about the missed meals, while he is worried about that, it's more so the fact that you haven't left your room. Being one of, if not the most, cuddly members of the crew seeing you spend so much time alone was jarring to him. After all, if Luffy had a problem he came to you. So why couldn't you do the same, was he the problem? Is someone else on the ship? What could be disturbing you so much?
The worst part is if you were honest, you didn't have a clue. You had just been feeling wrong, completely off without reason. Now that your captain has found you alone and distressed, it only makes the tangles and knots in your gut feel worse. Guilt plagued you as you didn't have to see his face to know that his wide eyes had been staring down at you for any movement, for any symptom that you could be getting better or worse. For any kind of response really, he just hopes it's not more remorse. When he does finally feel you move it's a good 30 seconds of trying to get one hand out of the blanket before you're tugging him closer. There's the feeling of his arms wrapping around your body as his heartbeat can now be heard through the thick blanket. You're not sure how much it helped but it definitely helped the tears stuck in your eyes finally fall.
You feel yourself starting to shake as a voice in the back of your head tells you you're being dramatic. You have no clue what started this ache, with him here you can't push it down till it goes away like you were trying to do. It bubbles up and slowly consumed you, not able to pinpoint whatever emotion this is all you can focus on is how overstimulating everything is. You can't concentrate on his heartbeat anymore, you can hardly breathe. Choking on the first sob before you feel it come up. There's nothing to hide, you're mental state is as scattered as paint across a floor. Desperate for something, anything, to ground you. Luckily luffy is still there, peeling the covers off from over your head, you're too trapped in it to notice that most of the movement isn't coming from you.
He's worried about you hyperventilating, the last thing he wants is for you to pass out at a time like this. You haven't even told him what's wrong yet. You helped him with him and he wants to do the same, he wants to solve it if he can. He made sure to take things slowly, not rushing to any conclusions, just being there in the moment. Seeing your face filled with tears made him want to jump into action. There has to be something he can do to get them to stop. All he could think to do was hold you close, going as far as to place the shank's hat on your head to see if that would help. Everything only made you sob harder.
The hand thought placed on his chest now balled into a fist gripping his shirt for dear life, the other wrapped around his shoulders so you buried your face in his neck. It's highly plausible the rest of the crew can hear your despair, as your captain Luffy would make sure you are not teased for this, just as he put Zoro through a mini hell for laughing at you days before. He wants to treasure you, you're the only one who lets him feel human, let him feel and express instead of hiding behind his smile. He's so lost in his thoughts he almost missed you speak.
"Thank you."
It's hushed and horse, no surprise as all you've done today is sleep and cry. But it's the only thing you can think to say. To your surprise, those two little words shocked Luffy. Why are you thanking him? He hasn't done anything yet? Were you just overwhelmed? Now he's just as lost in your emotions as you are. He really doesn't want to rush, nor does he know how to ask. Confusion is written across his face, he does reach one conclusion. Touch helps, he helped him, it was helping you, so what had you done that night that when you comforted him? He's brought back to the kiss you placed on his forehead, full of warmth and comfort, maybe the same would work for you.
Sheer embarrassment, terror, and panic flooded through your system as Luffy tiled your chin up towards his face. Causing more tears to well up and fall but he kisses them all away. Starting from where they would gather and fall off your chin he worked his way up one side of your face, kissing all the tears he could see and then the corner of your eye before moving to the other one. For the first time in days you smile, you smile, it's not faked, forced, or caused by nervousness. None of it, it's a real, genuine smile. It makes Luffy beam from ear to ear as he now sprinkled kisses anywhere he could reach. It makes you laugh, he's never been happier to hear the sound of your laughter. He'd kiss you forever if it meant you'd never be sad again. But he still had that nagging question in his gut.
"What made you cry in the first place?" He almost reconsidered the question when the smile immediately dropped from your face. Maybe he should have asked another day or basked in it a bit longer. "I- I don't know, I just- everything feels so-" Wrong, out of order, discombobulated. Like your heart has been thrown against a wall just to see the blood splattered. There's definitely a strong emotion behind this all but you're struggling to articulate it. Whatever it might be. "It's fine if you don't know, just tell me how to help, okay?" You nodded thinking, trying to get your mind out of the dark place that it currently resides in. The only thing that has helped so hard was him, his voice, his arms, the sound of his heart beating, his smell, his kisses, everything about Luffy rang with comfort there was nothing else you could want or need but him.
"Please just don't let me go."
#luffy angst#luffy x y/n#monkey d. luffy#luffy fluff#mugiwara no luffy#luffy x reader#luffy x you#one piece x reader#one peice angst#one piece fluff
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(In order to not derail op's thread, and jic they've not finished reading the books, hope this is ok) The madness/mental illness discussion between Laura and Jonathan made me think about the in-between of Jonathan leaving the hospital and then being validated!
One thing is, pre-Hawkins death, Mina states to Lucy that Jonathan has been working hard, but that he is weak still and placid, and also that he has nightmares. It tells on them both, because Mina cannot get a full night's sleep due to him waking up screaming and she needs to soothe him. Journal aside, Mina says she is so worried about his nerves that she doesn't communicate with him about how tired she is herself. It reminds me of Walter wanting to protect Laura from distress.
Post-Hawkins death, Jonathan gets worse. "He says the amount of responsibility which it puts upon him makes him nervous. He begins to doubt himself. I try to cheer him up, and my belief in him helps him to have a belief in himself. But it is here that the grave shock that he experienced tells upon him the most. Oh, it is too hard that a sweet, simple, noble, strong nature such as his—a nature which enabled him by our dear, good friend’s aid to rise from clerk to master in a few years—should be so injured that the very essence of its strength is gone."
Not a very traditionally ''manful'' picture, but Mina never goes there. Still, he throws himself into work. Mina says her belief in him helps Jonathan believe in himself. Maybe Laura would have benefited from being believed in.
What prompts Walter to do something drastic is when Laura weeps in her sleep. What prompts Mina to break the seal later is when Jonathan faints in public and loses the memory of it.
The way Mina treats Lucy and Jonathan in illness seems equal. She keeps their secrets upon their request too. Walter and Mina take similar active roles for their spouses, though Mina isn't necessarily masculine for it.
An interesting imho comparison could also be when Mina chooses to consult Van Helsing while Jonathan is away for his first work trip and how they communicate throughout it, and Walter with the sisters.
Aside, when she asks Van Helsing to help Jonathan, he says, "I promise you that I will gladly do all for him that I can—all to make his life strong and manly, and your life a happy one." Van Helsing promises to make his life manly, though Mina had asked to make him "well again". So he kind of made it about gender, though it wasn't for Mina.
(I also wonder if we can call Jonathan ''cured'' really, as he doesn't actually return to his former self, but it'd get too long!)
(Tagging @animate-mush because the WIW substack has ended now, hopefully you're all caught up... but regardless no spoilers past where we were last week.)
Anon, you sum up my thoughts incredibly well: "Maybe Laura would have benefited from being believed in."
I think that is perhaps the most major difference between the recovery period for the two of them. Because while they both have remarkably similar symptoms, and both their spouses hide stuff from them for a while... when things come to a head Mina chooses to believe in Jonathan. Not just in supporting him as he goes back to work (which you're right, he has little choice about doing - an external gendered element there, where societal pressures/norms mean Jonathan kind of has to get to work and Laura is never expected to at all); Mina trusts Jonathan with information, with an important role in what follows.
There's obvious contextual differences. Jonathan knew he could access his lost memories and explicitly didn't want to unless it was necessary. He put the power to decide that in Mina's hands (and it was his request but still her choice to share in his ignorance until she needed more information). When she reads his journal, she's trying to better help him within parameters they have both agreed to. When she eventually tells him everything is true, she's trusting that this will be validating for him and help him heal, help him be more "well again" (though you're right both that he never returns to his former self, and that Van Helsing is the only one who brings gender into it with his assumption that Mina's looking to make Jonathan more manly).
Laura never had an equivalent - both in terms of a discussion with the ones leaving her out for the sake of her mental health, and in the sense of some record she knows she can fall back on. She didn't have a hidden journal when she was being drugged or in the asylum. Most of the information Walter and Marian gather is from other people.
I think there is a period where both Jonathan and Laura have information hidden from them for their own sake. And I don't think that was inherently wrong or anything; in fact I think it was somewhat needed. Jonathan got the chance to explicitly ask for that period of ignorance. We don't quite have any such dialogue from Laura, but the narration still tells us that there were certain topics that were very confusing to her or which she didn't like to linger on (and her experience with Mr. Fairlie even after getting out of the asylum can't have helped), and there's that scene where she says she will "try to get better", showing recognition of how unwell she currently is. I think they both need this time to focus on recovering, and their spouses/loved ones want to support them so they can do so. Again, the societal gender role divides them here: Jonathan has to work and in fact has to take on new/more challenging work, while Laura doesn't and can devote more time to rest and recovery. There's benefits and drawbacks to both of those, in my mind. Jonathan got support from Mina and reassurance that she (and Mr. Hawkins) believed in him, which was helpful. On the other hand, it stressed him out more and he was still suffering from his nightmares, etc. Laura got more time to take it easy without having other stress added on, which was helpful. But on the other hand, she didn't get the same level of trust and belief in her ability to, if not 'return to normal,' at least to be productive and helpful in some way.
Yeah, I'm talking about her drawings. I think that is where the big divide comes. Because when she wants to contribute and help with the household, Walter decides to lie to her and play-act that she is bringing in money. I get that he's trying to avoid letting her stress over money, but it feels so condescending. He's treating her like a child rather than being honest with her - right after she asks him not to treat her like a child. Maybe being honest would just be telling her that she's not well enough to work/that it wouldn't be safe, and that he has the money handled. Maybe they'd come up with some other way she could chip in. At least she'd be involved in the discussion as she clearly wanted to be. And while I don't think she would be involved in the hunting down different accounts or confrontations that follow at the end of the book any more than Marian was, I think they should have told her what was going on. That doesn't necessarily mean giving her all the nitty gritties especially if they're triggering to her; but giving her the chance to speak for herself, to add her thoughts, even to ask to be left out if she thinks she can't handle it. She never gets that. There's no reevaluation later on.
Both Jonathan and Laura were denied validation in a way that made them doubt their sanity. Jonathan's experiences were supernatural and he fears he lost his mind. Laura was lied to and gaslit about her own identity, outright told she was suffering from delusions. Revealing that the supernatural things he remember are real was validating for Jonathan in itself, even as he still had all the accompanying trauma. Laura's (official/public) validation isn't possible until after the villains are defeated and everything is over, which in a sense stretches out that middle period. Similarly, Jonathan getting the information leads right into him getting a change to assuage his feelings of guilt and seek revenge, which could be cathartic for him. Laura probably wouldn't have the same opportunities or even desire to do so, and so maybe looping her in wouldn't have been as helpful. But it feels cruel to me never to give her the option. After a certain point, it's no longer just trying to spare her from distress, but it feels like believing she isn't capable of handling any at all.
I guess that's what feels most gendered to me. Walter, and to an extent Marian too, don't treat Laura like an adult or an equal after her experience. This does happen throughout the book, but it gets so much more egregious after she's rescued from the asylum. Marian talks about women/is kind of treated like an exception to women in general, and Walter is leaving both women out in key moments. So given how women were typically seen as less capable, to me it feels somewhat bound up in that rather than just being about her specifically (I think she handles/is capable of a lot more than she's given credit for). Mina doesn't do really that, she doesn't really bring gender into her treatment of either Jonathan or Lucy in the same way. And while others in Dracula do, it's shown to be more of a mistake.
#dracula daily#dracula daily spoilers#woman in white weekly#anonymous#replies#dracula meta#wiw meta#i'm so mad about the drawings lie okay
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Thanks to the amount of systems cringe stuff spamming this tag I finally gave in and had a look at what they're saying, great decision on my part, happy for myself and so grateful for the inspiration lmao.
Honestly fuck all the fake claiming stuff, that's old hat, I wanna talk about the reverse conspiracy theory stuff they got going on. Namely their new automod response to anyone that mentions RAMCOA. So uhhh trigger warnings for discussion on that.
That link for an "archive database"? It points to the Grey Faction website, the Satanic Temples replacement for the False Memory Foundation. It's kinda sad honestly, sparsely populated with old news about Colin Ross' eye lasers and 80s satanic panic stuff to completely discredit the ISSTD as the organisation stands today. They completely deny the concept of repressed memories and don't believe in DID at all, even if they try to hide it with carefully chosen language
Does this kinda stuff happen? Absolutely. But the issue is, unsurprisingly, nuanced and complicated.
The Body Keeps the Score has a great section on this. In one chapter the author recounts a patients sudden recollection of abuse memories after seeing their abuser having been arrested on television. The patient had spent their entire life having no recollection of these events, only for them suddenly to reappear in crystal clear and full sensory detail. It does sound kinda unbelievable, I mean we know how dubious and unreliable memory can be, how can these memories be preserved so perfectly outside of conscious awareness? Well the chapter goes on to explore accounts of traumatic memory around Shell Shock. As it turns out, veterans that didn't get Shell Shock often had very personalised accounts of the war, they would even romanticise their experiences spun as a narrative of personal valour and heroism. Shell Shock patients on the other hand had much more accurate and factual recollections that all corroborated with each other, it would be as if they were back there experiencing it as it was, as opposed to looking back on it from the present.
This is because of how memory is processed. A healthy processed memory is becomes part of your own personal narrative, how you feel about it, the lessons you learned from it, and how it relates to the rest of your life. A traumatic memory doesn't do this, because it is deemed as incompatible with personal narrative, impossible to feel anything about, and threatens the integrity of the rest of the psyche, it sits outside. Like lost luggage at an airport never opened and never claimed.
This isn't necessarily the case for traumatic memory in DID though, at least in a good number of cases what's preserved is the emotional memory, feelings of helplessness or betrayal, body sensations of things happening, but the details, the auto biographical recollection of events can be lost.
In fact, this is one of the key ways the false memory foundation claims have been debunked. You can install the memory of being lost in the mall to someone, but what you can't do is give someone PTSD symptoms around a false memory, those emotional and physical intrusions can't be implanted.
This is to say that the trauma is always real, it deserves attention and validation and treatment, but we do have to be careful about what we do with the content of traumatic memories. And you know what? This is 100% in line with ISSTD guidance for the therapy of patients with a Dissociative Disorder. Therapists are advised not to take disclosures of recounted traumatic memories too literally, not least of all because different alters might have different accounts of events. It can cause a lot of internal conflict and distress to believe one alter over the other and they can't all be right. So what you do is something called Processing. Here's a great video on that from the CTAD clinic
youtube
This all relates to the derealisation aspect is DID, and in fact, many have called it a disorder of multiple realities rather than multiple personalities. I guess it depends on which way you wanna look at it from the DPDR continuum. Because of the extreme compartmentalisation of action systems, traumatic memory can be chopped up and distributed among different parts. Some get the emotional memory, some get the physical memory, some transform the content of the memory into something that fits the personal narrative of their created identity. For instance am alter that believes they are a victim of witch trials may have memories of a mob with pitchforks and torches, or a wolf alter might have memories of being surrounded and trapped by hunters in someone who has trauma around severe playground bullying. The emotional experience is retained, but the biographical details are changed into something the brain hopes can be processed, even if it fails in doing so.
Where this gets very messy, is that you can take a compartmentalised emotional or physical intrusive memory, devoid of content, and be suggestible to details that might fill the blanks. This is largely what happened during the satanic panic. Imagining a potential form of abuse, while triggered, can attach those imagined details to the emotional memory. Heck, multiple alters can each attach their own individual narrative of details to the same emotional Intrusion.
And this is a very serious problem I've seen in the community. So many times someone will ask questions about a relatively normal DID experience, and someone will chime in with "well in my case it's the result of programming". This is such a fucking irresponsible and dangerous thing to do. We cannot suggest possible forms of abuse to scared and confused systems that are in the wake of being triggered. This can go SO badly. Many of us suffer from psychosis, paranoia can quickly turn into a full blown delusion, especially when we're talking about organisations of child trafficking and mind control.
Cults exist.
Trafficking organisations exist.
Abusive religious organisations exist.
There's no denial that this happens, but we absolutely cannot just go around suggesting that this might have happened to someone who hasn't yet processed their trauma.
This isn't about disbelieving people, or telling people they are wrong about their trauma, but directing towards what matters, stabilisation from destabilising thoughts during a terrifying and confusing time, grounding, and finding a safe space through which to process the painful emotions so that they no longer intrude on daily life.
Back to Systems Cringe and the Grey Faction, there's something to be said about how faith in institutions can completely broken when we forget, and are reminded, that they aren't some flawless entity but are made up of flawed people that make mistakes
But I think this comment sums up everything I would want to say on that
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The worst thing about bpd is you almost never know if you should trust your own emotions. Am I experiencing a Normal amount of sadness in response to this? Am I experiencing an Okay amount of anger in response to this? Is it okay to cry right now? Should I be experiencing This Emotion instead of That Emotion? Is this emotional response appropriate or do I look/sound crazy/manipulative? Would a non-bpd feel this intensely upset in response to this, or is the intensity of this distress a bpd symptom?
When you can't trust your own emotions you can't trust your own judgement. This person hurt me, should I stop talking to them forever or is that Too Much? Does the Punishment suit the Crime? You might ask a non-bpd person what they would do if they were in your shoes, but theres plenty of non-bpd people who honestly aren't good at making these judgements either!! Theres plenty of non-bpd people who are so emotionally unintelligent that they basically are just as incapable as you of understanding What They Feel. It sucks.
A bpd person will be lucky to find someone they can place their faith in to help them observe and decide if their feelings and actions are appropriate. Most of my family have problems like mine so I've realized I can't turn to them for this specific thing. They can and will tell me I should feel evil and guilty if my emotions/actions are Inappropriate which is Unhelpful. I can, however, depend on the most mellow, level-headed person I know; my girlfriend, whom I'm very grateful for. A good therapist is probably another good option for other bpds.
Disclaimer, *I'm* not a therapist and I dont claim to have any real education or knowledge about bpd or emotional unstability or whatever else, I just wanted to talk about maybe the most important realization I've made as someone with borderline and has had to deal with borderline family for my entire life.
#actually borderline#actually bpd#borderline#borderline personality disorder#emotionally unstable#eupd#eid#emotional intensity disorder#autism#actually autistic#neurodivergent#actually neurodivergent#personality disorder#therapy#bpd splitting#readme
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I'd like to clarify, when I say I am anti-endo, that doesn't mean I hate every endo system, etc. My issue lies not necessarily in the existence of non-traumagenic plurality, but the way it is presented.
The OSDDID community has the unique, and often extremely difficult, experience of having the brain forcefully cut itself off from itself (forgive the strange wording, lol) due to severe stress/trauma, and we live with heavy dissociation, amnesia, and many other trauma responses. It is a very difficult disorder to live with. That's not to say that endos never struggle with their plurality, but they do not have the experience of struggling with this disorder. OSDDID spaces and communities were created to support people with the disorder, to give them a place to talk about the rather unique struggles of having it, to share resources to help manage it, to bond and help each other with it.
Endogenic systems have come into our communities claiming to be the same as us, and that they should have a place in these spaces, despite not sharing the fundamental issues that the spaces were created to address/help with. Because of this, it has become increasingly hard--sometimes impossible--to find spaces where we as a traumagenic system can talk about these experiences solely to people who understand and can relate. These days, in most spaces traumagenic systems cannot talk in too much detail about the disorder and its (often scary or upsetting) symptoms, because the science and experiences aren't 'inclusive' of endos.
And yes, these spaces still exist. But they have become much fewer and farther apart, and are more and more likely to be put under fire and called exclusionary for restricting to just OSDDID systems. It has become absurdly difficult to find a space where we can talk about our disorder without censoring ourselves, and when those spaces do exist, there is a constant worry of being harassed for being exclusive just for talking about our struggles.
I would also like to add that I've heard every form of "not me though" when talking about this. If you are endogenic and you do not go into OSDDID spaces, this is not about you. I take issue with the community as a whole, because I feel it has become a general community-wide problem, but as I said in the beginning of this (stupidly long) post, I do not hate, or even really take much issue with, many individual endos.
I will say that the word endogenic has gained a connotation of being one of those who invade/impede on OSDDID spaces. So, I will take slight issue with people who align themselves with that terminology, because it implies that one agrees with, or is at least tolerant of, the actions generally associated with the word/the community it describes. The separation of systems into "traumagenic" and "endogenic" also implies that they are the same fundamental thing, just with slight differences in origin. However, I completely understand that a label does not define anybody's beliefs entirely, so that's not really a main problem in my eyes.
In my ideal version of this, endos would have their own community, defined as separate from the OSDDID spaces. I believe that the terminology should be more distinctly separated from that of OSDDID systems. There needs to be the understanding that endo and traumagenic systems, while sharing some similarities, are on a fundamental level different experiences. OSDDID systems should not have to be associated with the idea that they could/may have been formed without trauma or without the distress that the disorder causes, and likewise endos should not be associated with those aforementioned struggles.
I am not saying I think we need to completely divide ourselves or cut each other out. I see no problem with different types of plurals interacting with shared spaces or relating to/with each other. But the situation as it is right now causes harm to many traumagenic systems as it muddles the definition of who we are and puts less weight on the struggles we face, and takes away spaces that many of us take great comfort in. So, when I say I am anti-endo, I am saying not that I take issue with the concert of the existence of non-traumagenic plurals, but with the current community's idea that they are equatable.
I personally do not see how non-traumagenic plurality could work, because there is no science to it the way that there is for OSDDID. HOWEVER, research on plurality is still in its infancy, so that opinion is subject to change as more research is done. Most importantly, whether scientifically proven or not, I will not tell anybody that they are not experiencing plurality, endo or not, because I don't get to tell people about their own experiences. I will respect endos as long as they respect me, but right now, the situation is such that I feel the endo community as a general group is disrespecting us, so while I can respect individuals, I cannot fully respect the community as a whole.
Sorry for how long this got, lol. Thanks to anyone who actually read it all. Have a lovely day, everyone :)
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Madara Headcanon
18+ MINORS DNI. This post is NSFW. And if the topics of pregnancy/period/anal sex offend you, please skip over this post NOW.
I love Madara headcanons, fanfics, scenarios, smut, meta analyses, fanart, and everything else to do with Madara. Been binging content the past months, but haven’t seen much on certain topics –likely because most people aren’t as degenerate as me? So I decided to write my own headcanons about Madara and an S/O who’s interested in pregnancy sex, period sex, and anal sex! Hope you enjoy.
Pregnancy sex
Madara is a traditional man at heart and can be a bit of a prude. While most sexual interests don’t bother him, the moment there’s potential for truly hurting a loved one, he’ll clam up. Pregnancy sex is where he’d think “Who does that?” in the most judgmental old man way possible. So Daddy Madara would need much convincing to participate.
In my mind, Madara would only father a child with a woman whom he already cares about greatly. He loves his woman and unborn child, is overprotective to hell and it would KILL him if he hurt his love and/or baby in any way. It doesn’t matter how pent up or needy he/she is, he’d push her off and tell her to behave. He’s soft with his pregnant partner (I’d like to think she’d also be his wife), so he wouldn’t tease her as much as he usually does when she gets this way. He’d distract her with (PG) activities she enjoys, take care of her, cooking her favourite meals and catering to her strange food cravings, massage her feet… which are fine wholesome activities, but not what she NEEDS!
Eventually the baby mama snaps at the poor Madara, who’s trying to do his best for his small family. She shows him evidence from literature and has permission from the doctor, informing him that it’s medically SAFE to have sex since theirs is a low-risk pregnancy. STILL, Daddy Maddy refuses her, citing his brute strength and the unacceptable possibility of hurting her or their baby. He’s also angry at this point, so the household would turn tense for a while with these two stubborn mules running it.
Madara may be frustrated (in more ways than one), but he’s unable to stay angry with his S/O forever. Her unhappiness distresses him and he slowly softens up again with her. He’s gone over the medical evidence that it’s okay to do the deed during the period when they were at odds with each other. Logically, he now knows it’s safe to do in their situation, but it still makes him uncomfortable. However, Madara ultimately wants whatever makes the S/O happy, as long as she (and baby) are safe.
The first time they have pregnancy sex is so beautiful. It’s been a long time for both of them. Madara would be so tender, ensuring he doesn’t put his weight on her, keeps his grasp gentle, and is fully in tune with how she is feeling. Though he’s feeling needy too, his queen’s needs are always placed before his own. He makes sure she knows they can stop at any time and that she’ll tell him if anything he’s doing is too much. It’d be like getting to know one another all over again.
When it later becomes clear the baby isn’t going to “fall out” and nothing bad passes, Madara would wonder why they didn’t do this earlier.
(They are responsible parents and stop having sex weeks before the due date)
Period Sex
Doesn’t bother Madara much at all. Blood? What’s the problem? At first he didn’t like the sight of blood leaving his S/O’s body, but he knows it’s a biological function and she’s not in pain nor injured. In fact, the orgasms he pulls from her body relaxes her and eases her symptoms, so he comes to enjoy it too. The blood getting all over the place isn’t cause for too much concern for Madara, who believes they can get most of it off without their house ending up looking like a murder scene. What they can’t adequately clean off, Madara will get replaced, whether it’s linens or even furniture. Madara just isn’t bothered by those sorts of things. The S/O however, is a bit more sensible and prefers the bloody murder sex on her heaviest days in the shower.
I can even see Madara and S/O taking a bath together while she’s on her period, the heat easing her cramps and mood more, bloody bath water be damned.
Anal Sex- also fem S/O here
So I don’t actually think Madara is a total prude. I think Madara would be open to anal sex if the S/O is interested. It wouldn’t be his first choice, but it’d be a nice bit of variety to change things up occasionally. He still prefers the pussy, since he has a breeding kink after all.
Madara would be generous with the prep and lube, the king of patience taking his time to loosen up the rear to accommodate his girth. Agonizingly slowly, he slips it in, inch by inch, until his hips are seated against hers. Her jaws drop. “It’s HUGE!” Madara laughs, telling her she’s had it before. Despite feeling the stretch and the sensation of being stuffed FULL, there was no real pain. He stays in place for as long as needed for her to get accustomed to the foreign sensation.
Madara picks up the pace over time. The view of her back exposed to him, completely vulnerable and trusting, her TIGHT HEAT surrounding his length, the notion that their activity is taboo… the moment has him undone. Madara wants to rut. He pounds the S/O with her ass up into the mattress to the music of her delighted screams.
His baritone gets even lower while he chuckles, “Is this what you wanted? To be on your hands and knees taking it like a dog? Such a naughty girl. Heh. NOW you’re embarrassed?” He taunts her and keeps his thrusts deep, stroking her back until she turns her head to peer up at her man, eyes unfocused yet filled with trust and devotion. Without even knowing it, Madara had his Sharingan activated, immortalizing this moment in his memory forever as he pushes in deep and fills her with his essence, determined to claim ALL of his lover.
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Wow that turned out much longer than I anticipated, but I couldn’t stop. My first real post and still trying to figure out this platform works. Hope you enjoyed my word vomit!
#madara uchiha#uchiha madara#madara#madara headcanons#i am dirty so what#madara smut#madara is so hot
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Who turned the temperature hotter? ('Cause I'm burnin' up)
Read on ao3
Peter being asleep when he’d usually go on patrol was odd enough, but his shivering form was what really made her concerned. He didn’t even stir as she felt for his temperature, and she couldn’t help but wince in sympathy at his warm skin.
Or in which sickness and sensory issues don't mix.
Peter felt like shit. It started with a headache around the second period, so mild he couldn’t pinpoint it at first, but then it progressed throughout the day. Navigating the school hallways got harder and harder as the hours went by, his tired limbs protesting every move. Looking in the bathroom mirror after having splashed some water on his face, Peter noticed he - thankfully - didn’t look that bad, only a bit paler than usual. Still, his friends noticed something was up, if their worried glances were anything to go by.
At lunch, he laid his head on his arms, relieved by the cold surface of the cafeteria table.
“Are you sure you’re not hungry?” asked Ned.
Peter only grunted in response, not even looking up at the boy.
“Seriously, I’m taking you to the nurse” said MJ, “This has been going on for too long now.”
“‘M fine, just a headache” the boy retorted, trying to dodge her hand reaching for his face.
“And a fever” she retorted after feeling his temperature.
And she was right, but that didn’t stop Peter from being stubborn enough to endure the rest of the school day. It was a Monday, for Thor’s sake, he wasn’t about to start his week by missing chemistry class. His fever didn’t quite agree with his decision, though, as it only got worse. By the time he got home, all he could do was curl up on the couch and sleep.
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That’s how May found him hours later, coming back from her shift at the hospital. Peter being asleep when he’d usually go on patrol was odd enough, but his shivering form was what really made her concerned. He didn’t even stir as she felt for his temperature, and she couldn’t help but wince in sympathy at his warm skin.
She gathered everything she needed before gently squeezing the boy’s shoulder.
“Peter, baby,” she said quietly, “can you wake up for me?”
Peter groaned but complied, opening his eyes and looking at his aunt in confusion as he took in her concerned gaze.
“May?”
“Hi, honey. You have a fever. Can you sit up for me?” she asked, motioning for the medication on the coffee table.
The boy complied, but she couldn’t help but notice how he could barely hold himself upright, leaning heavily on the cushions. She handed him the medication created for his metabolism and he took it with no complaints, desperate to get rid of whatever was causing him to feel this bad.
The thing is, for Peter, getting sick was more than feeling icky and under the weather. Each symptom could easily trigger his sensory issues, not to mention how frustrating it was to not fully be able to determine what exactly were those symptoms.
So for the next couple of hours, Peter whined in distress about the feeling of his feverish sweat all over him. And by the pont his stomach could no longer hold onto the crackers he had finally been able to eat at May’s insistence, a meltdown was inevitable. A very slow, agonizingly lethargic and painful meltdown. May tried her best to calm him down, but his high fever wasn’t helping with his ability to process her words, so all she could do was let him ride it out, and feel her heart break in the process.
He curled up on his bed under his weighted blanket, one hand by his mouth as he bit his knuckles - May had tried to get him to use one of his chewables, but Peter only gagged at the texture.
With a sigh, frustrated that the medication clearly wasn’t working, May pulled out her phone.
“Tony, I need your help.”
______________________________________________________________
Peter arrived at the Tower’s medbay with a 103 degree fever, an empty stomach and an aching body. After the doctors got him set up with an IV line and a quiet room, Tony finally got in.
“Hey buddy” he said quietly, closing the door behind him as he entered the room. “Not feeling too hot, huh?”
“I’m getting sick of this,” he deadpanned. “Pun intended.”
Tony snorted, sitting next to the hospital bed.
“The doctors got you some nice medication, it will help soon,” he reassured the boy and himself. “Do you need anything?”
“I need to not feel gross and sticky anymore” was Peter’s response, and Tony could see he was fighting the urge to scratch at his arms, which were already littered with scratch marks from minutes before.
“I’m sorry, underoos. Wish I could help with that.”
He could see the energy draining out of the kid, so he attempted to reassure him and lighten up the mood.
“Well, you heard the doc, though. Soon we’ll have the test results. Once we figure out what’s going on, we can make you feel better in no time” he assured. “In the meantime, we can watch any Star Wars movie you want to. I’ll grab the remote.”
“Great, ‘cause the force is definitely not with me at the moment.”
______________________________________________________________
And it wasn’t, indeed. Halfway through the movie, Peter had his second meltdown of the day, just as sluggish as the last one.
Tony cleaned the boy’s sweat with a smooth and cold cloth, knowing that the sensation of sweat all over his body was one of the aggravators of Peter’s current state. It wasn’t an easy task, though, as Peter’s head kept going back and forth to slam into the thin mattress, pillow already forgotten on the floor where it had fallen minutes before. Tony winced in sympathy.
He didn’t even know how the kid had the energy to do that, as all his movements have been slow, his body having no strength to spare. His eyes were glazed over in a feverish haze and all he could do was whine and grunt to express his frustration.
“You gotta keep that there, buddy,” Tony said patiently, prying the boy’s hand away from the IV still in his arm, providing him with much needed fever reducers. He worried about how sluggish the kid’s movements were, though, as it had taken him about 5 attempts to finally reach the offending object.
Peter cried in frustration, moving his other arm so he could bite down into his fingers, head still banging onto the mattress below him.
“Stop stop stop, make it stop” he sobbed weakly, and Tony’s heart sank.
“I wish I could, kiddo” he lamented, “just a few more minutes and we’ll figure out what’s going on.”
“No more minutes, I can't,” the boy hiccuped.
Despite his pleas, it took 10 more minutes until Peter’s body finally lost all its energy, and he fell asleep with tear tracks still on his face. It only took 5 minutes after that for the doctors to come back with answers.
______________________________________________________________
“Pesticides?” asked May incredulously.
“I’m afraid so,” confirmed the tall brunette doctor. “We found traces of ethyl chloride in Mr. Parker’s system, along with other common components of pesticides. My team did some research and we got the information that his school has used such products over the weekend, and Mr. Parker must have had a reaction to its remnants, as his system is very sensitive to it.”
Tony and May looked at each other, not sure how to react. She was the first to break the silence, turning to the doctor once again.
“So what is our next step?”
“Well, from the latest exam, it seems that Peter’s metabolism and his healing abilities have already taken care of the substance itself, but it took a strain on his body. The fever and vomiting were probably caused by his body trying to expel whatever was affecting him, so what’s left for us to do now is treat those symptoms. We’re keeping him on fluids and fever reducers still, as well as medication for his stomach. The ideal is that he’s able to eat tonight, or we’ll have to take some more drastic measures due to his fast metabolism.”
The lack of food and dehydration were indeed big concerns, Tony knew that. The boy was already so weak he could barely sit up on his own, and he’s seen firsthand what a couple days with not enough food did to his metabolism.
The doctor reassured them that, despite the concerns about his food intake, Peter was on the track to a speedy recovery. Tony and May thanked her, finally exhaling in relief as they at last knew what was wrong.
May returned to Peter’s room where he was still deeply asleep after his meltdown, and Tony decided to make himself useful by cooking him some soup, a recipe his mother used to make when he was ill.
The kid did manage to eat about five spoonfuls of the broth before pushing the bowl in Tony’s hands away from him, turning his head the other way.
“You have to eat, kiddo.”
“No more” he cried weakly in response, hands shaking, “please.”
“Okay, we can try again later” Tony gave in.
‘Later’ turned out to be early afternoon of the next day, as Peter slept all throughout the night. It was a relief, as he didn’t have to go through any more meltdowns during that time. Overnight, his fever finally broke, and May was quick to help clean the sweat it caused, hoping to avoid any more distress for her nephew.
The doctors kept him in observation for the day, only letting him go upstairs to the living room once he had managed to eat half a bowl of soup. Their orders were that he get more rest and drink water to avoid getting dehydrated once again.
Ned and MJ visited him after school, and although Peter was quiet and would doze off from time to time mid-conversation, they stayed with him until he actually fell asleep.
May sipped on her tea in the corner of the room as she watched the two teens whisper their goodbyes to their sleeping friend. Between them, herself, and the man currently asleep on the smaller couch while holding a 3D model of an ethyl chloride molecule he was converting into a stim toy, Peter had a good support system. They would be okay.
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Idk how anti endos want us to consider ourselves traumagenic if we don’t have all symptoms necessary to be diagnosed with DID OSDD, but only a headmate that’s in my headspace without my desire. Like at least we’re not saying that we have a disorder that we don’t have. I don’t have dissociation, I remember my trauma, my system doesn’t split. However my head companion has different tastes and behaviors than me. Lying that I have did is much disrespectful 💚
FOR REAALL, they just wanna fit us into a box tbh. Endogenic, traumagenic, disordered, and nondisorderd are all DIFFERENT THINGS. Tons of endos say over and over they don't have OSDDID and does anybody listen? Of course not. Not all traumagenic systems are disordered either but they don't fuckin care. People clarify that plurality =/= OSDDID all the fucking time to antiendos, so at this point it's just plain ol willful ignorance. If you don't have the symptoms of a fucking disorder you can't get diagnosed for it, it's that simple. Nobody that isn't a dog of the medical industry is gonna slap a disorder label on someone that doesn't experience jack shit of distress or dysfunction. Also on the "secret trauma" or "if you have trauma you're traumagenic" bullshit - it's like, way to fuckin invalidate peoples' experiences and sense of agency about their own mind and trauma, right??? How fucking condescending you must be to claim you know better than the traumatized person that lived their experiences. Digging for trauma isn't healthy and neither is attributing all things outta the "ordinary" to a trauma response. That's a one way ticket to paranoia town!
Let's not forget the disordered systems that're/were endogenic and then became disordered cuz of trauma after the system's creation, too. Everyone deserves help and support. If somebody exhibits all the necessary symptoms to be diagnosed with OSDDID, then they should get the fucking help they need and not be gatekept by wherever that disorder mighta hypothetically came from
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I love your writing and wanted to request a Ryan fic where whenever the reader needs him from something he just pops out of now where to help (since he’s the mysterious and brooding consular) and everyone notices and questions it, but in reality he’s just always near the reader since they’re close best/childhood friends who like each other. The ending can be whatever you want since I just thought the idea was cute
First Ryan fic lets goooooo! I will not accept any slander of my sweet boy.
Genre: fluff
Word count: 855
“Hey has anyone seen my-” you were cut off from finishing your statement by Ryan appearing from behind you arm outstretched to give you your missing hairbrush with a nod. It’s not that you were a necessarily forgetful person you just got distracted sometimes, but ever since you’d met Ryan, he’d been there to rectify that.
The pair of you had actually met at the summer camp as kids, apparently, he’d clocked onto the fact that sometimes you were just a human disaster and had started to slowly help you out. Now you were closer and he seemed to be constantly keeping an eye out for you, at first you were a little upset because you felt like you were taking advantage of his kindness. However, Ryan had quickly reassured you that he enjoyed your company, enjoyed looking out for you but sometimes you still felt a little bad that he had to clean up after you so often. You had even asked if it bothered him that he didn’t really have any other close friends (which you felt responsible for too) but he’d simply bumped against your side, proclaiming you were enough. That he would trade 100 people just to have you, your conversation, laughter, tears and disastrous outbursts. He explained that it might have seemed like he was always chasing after you but truthfully your presence soothed him and he promised you did just enough for him as he did for you. That conversation had ended in tears, yours, but Ryan had just pulled you into his arms to calm you down.
It had been three weeks and unbeknownst to you and Ryan, Dylan was fascinated at your dynamic. He stood watching as you nervously looked around shifting your weight from foot to foot seemingly needing something and waiting for Ryan to inevitably appear to help.
“Dude what are you doing?” Nick said, startling and engrossed Dylan.
“You gotta watch this” he replied, pulling Nick by the arm and pointing to where you were growing increasingly distressed.
“Watch what? A nervous breakdown” Nick scoffed, incredibly confused.
“Wait for it…wait for it” Dylan whispered, absolutely enraptured and sure enough not even 3 minutes after you started to exhibit symptoms of distress Ryan was at your side. Water bottle in hand and a light hand on the head to soothe whatever nerves had overtaken you.
“Huh, ok that’s a little weird I’ll admit. But they are friends so…” Nick shrugged, like it was no big deal.
"A little weird? Where did he even come from? How did he know?" Dylan's questions were yelled at a retreating Nick's back, desperate for answers.
Another week passed and everyone had well and truly clocked onto the fact that where you were, Ryan would inevitably follow like some local cryptid emerging from the woods. There had been much speculation by your fellow counsellors as to your exact relationship and there was a running betting pool as to when one of you would confess.
That rumour had made you laugh when Ryan reported it and it had become a game between the two of you to see how much affection you could express before someone clocked on that you were already dating. Now whenever Ryan appeared to return something or to calm you down, he would leave a kiss or his hands would linger as you leaned on him.
Today was a bad day, you couldn’t find Ryan’s favourite hoodie that you’d borrowed and you’d stubbed your toe really hard trying to look for it. You’d gone to lunch in a particularly sour mood, upset with yourself for overreacting, knowing that Ryan wouldn’t actually care. Everyone had picked up on your irritability and were waiting for when Ryan would inevitably appear, but for the first time they’d witnessed he didn’t.
Walking out of the lodge you were greeted by the sight of Ryan jogging up the stairs, lost hoodie in hand. “Ryan!” you exclaimed “where have you been, lunch is almost over come on” you tugged him back inside to get the leftovers you’d saved for him in the kitchen. You’d just made it through the front door when he pulled you around to face him and held out the hoodie for you to put on.
“Is this where you’ve been? I was looking for it so I could give it back to you silly” you exclaimed.
“I know, but it looks better on you anyway” he smiled adorably as you leaned in to kiss him on the nose, unable to deal with how sweet he was.
“I knew it!” Jacob yelled causing the two of you to swivel and find a bunch of your fellow counsellors and kids watching the two of you.
“Knew what?” you baited cheekily.
“Knew you liked each other” he proclaimed, high fiving Nick who was nodding along.
“Of course I like Ryan, he’s my boyfriend” you beamed out, watching in satisfaction as that information loaded in the minds of your watchers. Laughing you pulled Ryan with you into the kitchen, waving goodbye, keen to spend some alone time with the love of your life.
#ryan erzahler x reader#the quarry ryan#the quarry requests#the quarry oneshots#the quarry#ryan erzahler
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a draculaura kinnie (me) explaining draculaura’s hemophobia (fear of blood/fainting) as somebody who also has the same phobia
So its kind of a joke in monster high that draculaura will faint if she sees blood or even meat due to her being a vegetarian, however there are some other canonical events that i believe play into her reaction to blood and i’ll also give you my two cents on what fainting from being exposed to blood is like for me!!
if you were unaware, draculaura is actually adopted! she was adopted by dracula after her human parents died due to the plague, and she also was born a human as well - dracula turned her into a vampire to save her from dying to the plague as well and adopted her and raised her as his own from then on. its not clear if draculaura had severe hemophobia as a young child or when she became vegetarian, but a popular theory is that due to her not being a natural born vampire, she is more sensitive to blood and the concept of feeding off of it.
now, i am a person with severe sensitivity to all things blood, gore, and medical related and i have a fainting disorder. if im exposed to any of my triggers, high levels of pain, or extreme emotional distress my body will automatically produce a vasovagal response, and i will faint. i can’t remember anything that caused me to form this phobia and most of my fear is related to not wanting to pass out, being unconscious is terrifying! so i don’t believe draculaura would need any sort of traumatic explanation for her hemophobia or fainting, i think it could be something she was born with and/or developed when she was very young like i was.
the way draculaura is shown to faint in the series is obviously very dramatic for the cartoonish effect and also for humor (which part of me hates as i was teased about fainting at the sight of blood all my life), but she seems to recover very quickly. just as quick as she is out, she can be fully awake and talking again as seen in episodes like “Fear Pressure” when she tells frankie to get her out of the situation only a few seconds to a minute after fainting. she even is able to walk out with minimal help from frankie, so she may not even have fully gone unconscious in some of these situations which is also known as “greying out.”
look i know its just a cartoon, but for the sake of spreading awareness about vasovagal syncope and using my comfort media to cope, here’s my take on how draculaura would actually experience a fainting episode in a more realistic setting;
- First, a trigger is presented (blood from an injury, a meal with meat and blood in it, etc) and she is exposed to it
- Internally, her blood pressure would spike due to the extreme fear and rapidly drop causing her circulation to be all out of wack which causes the vasovagal response (fainting).
- This can feel like extreme anxiety, tingling and numbness in her limbs, lightheadedness, weakness in her muscles, and her vision would darken until unconscious.
- Then, in order to help with a swift recovery, she should be laying flat with her legs propped up to allow for proper bloodflow to the brain, this will help her regain consciousness after no more than 2 minutes on average
- She may feel confused, have lingering numbness or tingling throughout her body, lightheadedness and other pre syncope symptoms, these could last until she has fully regulated her system again
- It is unlikely she would be able to stand and walk on her own immediately after waking up, it would most likely take several minutes until she could do so without help, it could cause a SECOND vasovagal response if she attempted to stand up too quickly (iron deficiency gang where you at??)
- Eating or drinking substances with high sugar can help with recovery as the sugar boost to the brain helps to basically kickstart it and get things moving again
- After fully recovering from being unconscious, she may have no further problems throughout the day, or she may feel drained and tired after using so much energy in her body. it truly depends on how bad the episode was, how long the effects lasted after waking up, and the general stress of the situation involving her trigger
This is all explained by how i experience fainting and what i know about how vasovagal syncope effects the body, im by no means a medical professional. this is just for fun y’all. hopefully if you decide to include draculaura’s fainting and hemophobia in a writing, comic, creative project, etc. that this helped you understand a bit more! thanks for reading if you made it this far, it really makes me happy that anyone would be interested in learning about this condition and how difficult it can make life.
#draculaura#monster high#mh#monster high draculaura#draculaura fainting#fainting#vasovagal syncope#monster high headcanons#monster high hcs#monster high drabble#draculaura headcanons#draculaura hcs
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Do you believe that Natsuo talking to Toya instead of brushing him off would have prevented Toya from becoming Dabi? Chapter 388 makes Natsuo believe this but I feel that's not true because even if he were to talk to him it would only treat the symptom of his distress rather than the root cause which was with Enji. Also Natsuo wouldn't know what to say to him either like Rei or Enji and it wasn't his responsibility to begin with.
What do you think?
I think it's pretty obvious that the guilt Natsuo and Fuyumi carry is just a result of the fact that they lost their brother and mother. It reads pretty clearly to me as survivor's guilt.
Even though the older siblings feel responsible, the story does not put that responsibility on them. Not that the story needed to do this because they were kids, but it actually goes out of its way to show exactly how powerless and helpless they were in the situation. Even if it's obvious just by the circumstances, it still shows it to really drive it home that Rei and Enji are carrying the responsibility.
To me, Fuyumi and Natsuo's grief comes across very obviously as survivor's guilt, like "This terrible thing happened and I wonder if I could have done something to make a difference." Which, we know that no, Natsuo staying awake to listen to Touya that night would not have changed anything. Especially because that was only one time we saw, and we're actually given information that Touya went to Natsuo all the time. Not just the one time.
That's why during this current situation it's Rei (mom) who took charge. Natsuo and Fuyumi weren't going to charge in I don't think otherwise, but seeing their mom be brave enough to go into the inferno gave them the courage to do it too. Honestly I don't think the siblings would have gone, I mean, they didn't until Rei did. That's what I mean when I say the story does a good job of showing the difference between their "responsibility" toward Touya. Rei RAN to him for the purpose of taking responsibility, the siblings followed for the purpose of begging not to lose anyone again/anymore. Their responsibility is different, it's merely guilt as a result of grief. Rei's is true responsibility toward her son, hence the story making her make that decision to run into the flames to get to Touya.
And then with how the story treats Shouto--he didn't see a possible way to get to Touya so he turned his focus elsewhere. But because he's the protagonist of his family's arc the story assigned him the heroic responsibility rather than familial one, and he took his heroic responsibility back after an uplifting talk from his hero. Different type of responsibility than his parents and his siblings.
I think Horikoshi does a really good job of making it clear who is responsible to who, and in what way, in the Todoroki plot.
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I turned off anon messages because I've been getting an inordinate amount of anon hate, some extraordinarily nasty, in response to people misinterpreting some commentary I added on a post recently, as being antagonistic or negative when that was not my intent.
Here is the full thread in case anyone is curious.
I get that my added commentary may have come across as unnecessarily antagonistic. I was in some pain and other physical distress from long COVID symptoms last night when I reblogged that post and wrote that commentary, and perhaps this made my tone came across as more snarky than usual, which was not my intention.
Still, the level of negativity and hate I have received is wildly out-of-proportion to any slight negativity in my tone. Like people were writing things calling me a terrible person and worthless, using dehumanizing language, and stopping only very barely short of suicide baiting and/or violent threats. One of the posts was bad enough that I reported it to Tumblr, and I worry that anyone who would harass me in this way would be highly likely to harass a long list of other users as well.
I want people to know that I harbor no negativity or hard feelings towards the author of the original post in question, I really enjoyed the post and its humor and was trying to add some tangential commentary that highlighted one of the many reasons I like Tumblr, how you can have a post that is basically like a shitpost, and people can add totally unreasonable commentary to it but at the same time other people can add very reasonable commentary that adds insight, and this is one of the things I love most about Tumblr.
I wished people could see this instead of just assuming that I am some kind of mega asshole.
I also think that a lot of this negativity, frankly, is an example of the absolute intense bias and bigotry, hate even, that people hold against neurodivergent people.
Yes, I take things literally sometimes. Yes, I choose to take things and engage with them literally even when I know they are not intended to be taken this way. Yes, I like deep commentary. Yes, I like writing long text posts. No, this does not make me a bad person.
And if you think it's okay to threaten or harass someone because of these things, especially when a person expresses themselves without making personal attacks or without voicing overt hostility, if you think it is acceptable to initiate or greatly escalate any type of negativity or hostility just because someone said something that you perceived as mildly antagonistic, then maybe, just maybe, it would be best for you to spend some time away from the internet.
For now though, anons are off. I haven't received any legitimate anons in weeks so it's not like I'm missing much. I have no interest in allowing myself to be verbally abused by people who lack the courage to show their face. Anon messages were for positive, encouraging compliments, or questions that people were too shy to ask, they have never been turned on with the intention of exposing myself to hate messages.
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So it’s gotten to that point. i’ve been receiving IOP from a mental health clinic, and my group trauma therapist is transphobic. Even more so, she’s been taking advantage of that fact that we unpack serious things in group settings, and I have a habit of dissociating to perpetuate her transphobic ideas in which it is my fault if i feel bad when someone misgender means. I have severe trauma from emotional abuse and neglect which only ended 6 months ago, at least in terms of my family having enough power and ignorance to believe that they were justified in the way they treated me, but i am still very much healing. I’m trying so hard to survive and get away from my abusive environment, but i’m realistic. i plan to move next year in jan, and in the midst of trying to pay all my bills and not go insane from the lack of financial freedom i have beyond necessities and bills, i’m trying to save as much as i can while also being nice to myself.
but today someone in my group was expressing distress over using a feminine term to refer to me when i’ve explained that i identify as transmasculine, and i was too busy doing something else, so my therapist took it upon herself to explain that it was my fault for feeling bad when people misgender me and that it is my responsible to correct people. which like, she’s a white cisgender woman who has trauma and is likely autistic so i’ve been giving her the benefit of the doubt, but no, she’s completely wrong. as a mental health professional currently in charge of my safety, she is directly endangering my health. i sent her an email after i processed what the fuck happened, and basically said this is your one warning to stop being transphobic and read up on all the ways your behavior threatens my physical and mental well-being, and if so necessary, i will seek legal action for discrimination. i have been gaslight a fuck ton so i have no confidence in myself, but my gut has been seeing all the news that more and more confirms the worst, and my c-PTSD symptoms are getting worse. history repeats itself, and i feel like i’m the one who recognizes the pattern except, you know, i’m part of the group that people currently want to see dead. and people praise me and treat me nicely bc they see an intelligent woman (which trauma-reinforced but also i fucking had top surgery last year????) but i think they view me as an “acceptable” queer person. which nooo, i did not spend so many years facing abuse literally just because i felt intense fucking pain that no one thought they could understand only for people in power to continue treating me like shit and then getting angry when i don’t roll over and die. i identify as a threat and a thing you do not want to cross. my years of sickness and illness mean that i don’t respect anything unless it has blood, sweat, tears, and defiance written all over it. you HAVE to feel pain to feel human, and all fucking pain is valid. i am so sick of watching a whole community of people being looked over and forgotten about, for even the “acceptable” ones of us having to beg for crumbs of decency. it’s inexcusable, and i legit do not give a shit for why we have to wait around for a bunch of people to decide that others get to live. i’m living NOW. DEAL WITH IT
#wedding speaks#tw vent#tw transphobia#tw medical trauma#IM SO SICK OF NICE PEOPLE ABUSING ME#FUCK OFFFFFF
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With Yotsuyu's reappearance messing with him emotionally, S'ria finally finally realizes that he's not the only one in his head. (Perhaps it's time for a chat?)
Ao3
[typical contextual warnings for: some DID general things (dissociation, memory gaps, denial, panic attack symptoms) + implications of CSA ]
S'ria had been… struggling with “Tsuyu”. Not in the ways some of the others were – she was most assuredly not lying, he just knew. She truly had been granted the luxury of forgetting it all, able to exist in the moment again without being afraid. How odd, but perhaps kind, to her after all of those years of distress.
That seemed to be what was causing S'ria to react, but it was in such a vague and confusing way that he wasn't sure what part of the concept was setting him off or even why.
He just had felt bad ever since becoming aware of this situation, bad in some visceral and uncomfortable way.
Normal circumstances didn't help, the frustration of that “peacemaking” ambassador besides, but that didn't account for much of how he felt. He was constantly exhausted, and everytime he thought about the situation it just made him feel nauseous. Nothing about interacting with Tsuyu was directly unpleasant, but he found himself with a throbbing headache whenever he looked at her – the sense that there was some thought just out of reach that he was unconsciously straining towards.
(Towards and away, both wanting the truth and intentionally closing his eyes to what hunches he already had.)
And with that distress came…something else odd. Often when S'ria was having a rough patch, his thoughts became difficult to deal with, to put it lightly. Simply prone to spirals and paranoia and going to dark places. So why, then, did these truly acute near-breakdowns bring out a far kinder inner voice instead?
It wasn't something that was entirely new to him, there’d been times before that his mind had been so surprisingly gentle with him. He remembered it several times these last few years, as recently as his near-panic with the Buduga. S'ria supposed it was just a way to soothe himself – imagining a woman's calm voice saying supportive things to him, melodic and loving. He wished he could be better at it more often, it made him feel much better, but he didn't seem to be able to control it very well.
S'ria was almost afraid to ask others what their internal voice was like when they talked to themselves, because at times it felt like… like someone entirely separate from him.
Now more than ever, really. He feared slightly that they may be hallucinations, not his own thoughts, for how oddly foreign they felt now. It'd never been so consistent before.
Any time S'ria thought too hard about (Yotsuyu?Tsuyu?)’s life a shaky panic crawled up in him and he knew there was something, something that if he just focused a bit more – and then there she was again, as quick and anxious as a mother catching their child about to touch a hot stove. Shh, it's alright, breathe. You're safe. You don't have to think about that, Ria – focus on something less painful.
There was something wrong with that. That inner voice had only ever validated his feelings before, never discouraged him from pursuing a line of thought so insistently. Any other time he'd used this odd calming technique he'd understood how it was helping, felt like it could have been his doing, but this time he had no idea what the purpose of all this was. It was – it was not his thought, it didn't quite belong.
As much as it made him feel as though he was losing his mind, what he planned to do next only intensified that feeling.
“Who are you?”
He even said it out loud, alone as he was, and that truly felt the most idiotic part of it. The voice suddenly fell… conspicuously quiet.
That was somehow the worst response. If he was just talking to himself as a coping mechanism, surely he could've come up with some gentle answer to give himself? The silence felt intentional and autonomous, and S'ria repeated the question with more trepidation in his voice.
She spoke again then, her voice the least calm he'd ever heard it. “Are you certain that you are ready to think about this?”
S'ria realized that actually – no, he was not. He instead wandered back to where he could find anyone else to speak to that was real.
It was about a week of ignoring it entirely before the fear of not knowing overwhelmed him, surpassing the fear of the possible truth.
S'ria laid curled up in an unfamiliar-feeling bed. Hien had been providing this room for a number of days now, but it still just didn't feel right. Even the mattress was a completely different feeling than what he was used to in Eorzea, the way it shifted under him. He accepted that he wasn't likely to sleep soon, but still remained neatly wrapped into a circle with his eyes closed for a while longer in denial.
The odd thing that'd happened still loomed over him, with him not feeling quite alone in his head at random points over that week. There hadn't been any specific voices intruding in his thoughts or actions, just an uncanny feeling that was…familiar now that he noticed it, but also extremely eerie.
There, in the middle of the night, he faltered on ignoring the situation entirely. The room felt strange and dark and stifling, and this needed to be dealt with somewhere else. The chance of wandering out into the halls and running into someone else would just be more discomfort than it was worth, but luckily – there were other options than the door.
Stepping out from the dark room into gentle moonlight was already a relief, even if not quite enough. Still, despite the relative freedom of this tiny balcony, he could still feel the abyss of the bedroom looming right behind him.
Even a touch clumsy with fatigue, it was a simple matter for S'ria to hop onto the railing and pull himself up onto the overhanging section of roof. It was much easier to climb than anywhere in Limsa Lominsa, that was certain.
It took several minutes to find a perch that seemed a stable place to settle himself – facing the moonlight-speckled sea and taking in the familiar salt-tinged breeze… while staying well away from any other balconies or windows that belonged to occupied rooms.
It was odd. A number of times over that last week, thinking about this situation had led him to shaky breathing and quick heartbeats and pounding headaches – but now, he felt very still. He didn't feel alone during the climb, but it was more like he was sneaking up here with someone instead of being haunted by an unknown presence or the like. It felt like having a co-conspirator, or a friend even, not like an entity latched to his soul.
(At least Lyse had mentioned that the Scions already made sure very early on that he wasn't possessed because of his odd behavior and blackouts – else he would have truly worried about that.)
(But that was about another matter – whoever he was when he lost track of himself in battle. This unknown woman, she was seemingly unrelated to that problem.)
S'ria was fairly certain that he didn't have to speak, but it felt wrong not to. As alarming as it felt to speak into the empty night, the idea of just thinking back and forth with himself felt even worse, like it wouldn't really prove anything.
He still kept to barely above a whisper, though. This wasn't for anyone else to witness.
“Are you there?”
It was a simple question to ask, if he already knew the answer. He could feel that she was.
Yes. Are you…truly prepared this time?
It was an odd feeling. He could hear the cadence of her voice speaking, but he also understood the question immediately at the speed of thought, far faster than words could be sounded out. It was enough to make him hesitate.
“If I am having these thoughts faster than I am hearing you speak – am I…not just thinking of what you might say and then imagining a voice saying these things?”
She paused, and there was a near-tangible sense of concern conveyed from her. S'ria wondered – if she was real, had she planned out how she might expect this conversation to go? Was he immediately going off script?
This is not verbal conversation – I'm afraid doing otherwise is just not possible like this. This is how it has always been – no matter who I'm talking to.
S'ria quietly snorted. “No matter who – what, are you telling me there's more people in my head?”
Silence.
It was too much to process, S'ria's mind still trying to understand the existence of just this one person.
“Oh, no, talking to myself is one thing, but that is damned excessive.” An unpleasant feeling took root in his chest, a strange ache at the thought of how anyone else may perceive something like this. There was rarely kindness afforded to those that were very publicly…unwell. “What in the hells am I doing – I think going back to bed is a better idea than this.”
In his haste to push himself to his feet, S'ria's hand slipped on the rough edge of a tile, shallowly cutting his palm. He drew his hand back with a hiss – it wasn't much compared to his usual combat injuries, but it was an inconvenient place to be injured as a fighter.
Something a bit odd happened then. It was the sense of foreign muscle memory, of expecting to fumble and executing something strangely perfectly. His body felt slightly distant and detached, but his movements were perfectly clear and practiced. He watched the process almost passively, drawing his hand close to look at the injury with a gentle hum of concentration and soothing most of it away in a warm wash of light.
That wasn't…that – S'ria didn't know how to do that. But it felt so natural for his body to perform the action, as if it'd done it hundreds of times before, despite never being successful when he tried to use magic.
He quietly sat back down on the roof.
Might we continue our conversation?
S'ria nodded, still bewildered at the feeling of channeling aether so competently. Eventually, he got his head a bit clearer.
“Who are you, then – to me? If not possession…? Why are you in my head?”
Forgive me for answering your question with another question – and for asking something I already know the answer to. What is the first thing you remember?
S'ria tilted his head, trying to sort out the details. “A few flashes of things and then Jacke helping me get used to the city. Nothing before then.”
Yes. The memories of the time before that do still exist, but kept…safe. How do I put this gently? You were young and needed distance between yourself and your life, until eventually you simply slept while your mind allowed someone else to handle it, creating someone new entirely. And then, next, making someone to help that person with their burden.
There was a sense of a wry smile, suggesting exactly which of those she may be.
And then it kept doing that, whatever made most internal sense at the time. Those parts still remain in your mind, their own people with their own memories and experiences.
S'ria frowned. “Couldn't I just have all of those memories back and have my head be my own?”
She winced, a detail S'ria somehow knew despite the lack of visual.
I do not mean this unkindly – but if you were emotionally prepared for that, it likely would not still be a complete blank. Your mind is only trying to stay safe.
He couldn't decide if that sentiment was sweet or patronizing. He tapped his fingers in a pattern on the roof, the recently healed skin still tingling strangely.
“So…if there's you, how many are there? Why are you the only one who talks to me like this?”
Why indeed. Different levels of disconnect with you, I suppose – I don't believe Fray and you can communicate at all, the way you don't retain any of their new memories... leaving you with missing time.
“Any of their…”. S'ria's eyes narrowed. “Wait, my little ’combat episodes’ that have had everyone so concerned really were just someone else entirely?! Why?”
Her voice remained gentle despite S'ria's outburst, fond even.
In the beginning, you didn't think yourself strong enough to slay Primals, so they took care of it until you gained confidence. Recently? They do have a bit of a hard time staying away when it comes to the Garlean military.
“Zenos. They wanted another try against him.”
There was no question, but she made a confirming noise all the same.
“And I don't even get a say in the matter? They can take over from me, just like that?”
She was quiet for an uncomfortably long time. Eventually she offered, Your writing is good enough now that you could leave a note asking Fray about that, see if they leave a response for you?
S'ria buried his face in his hands in response. “Oh gods, this entire situation beggars belief. Why not indulge it a little further?” He lifted his head and shook it lightly. “You never answered my question about how many.”
Hm… five, not including yourself. Two teenagers, one young child, Fray, and myself. She paused. I do have a name, by the way – Menphina. She sounded amused at worst, but S'ria still cringed at the hypothetical misstep of not having asked.
“Okay. Five.” He sighed shakily and fixed his eyes on the horizon, where the bright path of the moon on the water faded into the sky. “Tell me about the others.”
Menphina felt…pleasantly surprised, perhaps. S'ria wondered if she knew he was getting these flashes of emotion, if that was another form of communication – or if it was an accident. He wondered if it was mutual, if she could feel his emotions. Gods, he was trying so hard to accept this conversation without panicking.
I won't give you too many details when you are already getting overwhelmed, but – yes, of course.
(Ah, so she did know how he felt. Good to know.)
Fray and myself, I believe you have a decent sense of, for the moment. The youngest… he's very much a snapshot of you a bit over two decades ago and shares your name. He is distant for long periods of time, but – there are most definitely things that have brought him forward at times.
S'ria brought his knees up to rest his chin on them. “And I suppose I'd be acting like a young child to any who saw me? That's…disconcerting.”
Perhaps. It can be more subtle than that – maybe a thought that feels like it wasn't yours or a strange panic that you don't understand the cause of.
S'ria did not need to think long to start listing many examples of him emotionally reacting in ways that seemed entirely inexplicable given his own memories.
“What does that one remember of when I was younger?”
Everything. Menphina sounded oddly hoarse for a moment.
S'ria thought it interesting, given the lack of a throat to make that necessary. Dwelling on her answer itself was more uncomfortable – it was hard to separate terror from jealousy and he abandoned any attempt to do so.
“And the teenagers?”
Both very young teens, only a bit over their first decade. S'chaim – he was formed not all that long ago. Your mind still knows how to do that, after all.
S'ria tilted his head a bit at that, but chose not to question it for the moment. It was a bit of an odd and concerning prospect.
He's a bit morose, but normal for his age. He's rarely active and doesn't have control over your actions – I wouldn't worry about him. The other, her name is Rose. She…hm. How to…
Menphina's hand wringing over how to explain it to S'ria was rendered somewhat moot by the flickers of her thoughts that were so loud that S'ria couldn't help but catch bits of them. The anger dug into him immediately, ears flattened and teeth bared in a snarl.
“Tell me that I misunderstood that.” She conspicuously avoided saying anything. “Tell me that the incident I am still embarrassed and confused about to this day wasn't this mystery Rose person pushing me into propositioning Thancred – who was rightfully and thankfully concerned enough to refuse before anything got too out of hand.”
Menphina stammered, completely off balance, for several moments.
I am sorry, you are right to be upset, but she wasn't – she didn't mean any harm, it was the best way she could think of to distract him from his grief. She only wanted to help .
“And what about me? I felt horrible about just kissing him for a few minutes, could you imagine if he'd let things go further?! Why would she…” S'ria froze. “I thought you said she was on the young side of being a teenager.”
I…yes.
“Why would having sex with him be her first idea to help?” S'ria's breath caught in his throat. “W-why… why would she be like that.” He shook his head, feeling his pulse rattle his skull. “Menphina, I – my head hurts.”
She immediately began radiating an anxiety that not even her attempt to sound calm could cover up.
Do not worry about that, just know that Thancred was clear enough with her that she'll never try that again with him.
It was as if she hadn't spoken, for all that S'ria reacted. Instead he wrapped his arms more tightly around his legs, his breathing barely under control. “What happened to her – what happened?”
Menphina sounded well and truly panicked.
Please do not try so hard to remember, it is not safe for you – Ria, let this go –
–
–
–S'ria's first thought was that he felt uncomfortably disoriented.
He was sitting in his bed, still fully dark outside. His hands stung as though he'd made his way back down to his balcony clumsily and nearly slipping with his hand holds, without his practiced ease. That was fair enough – he didn't actually remember getting back down and going inside, so he must've been pretty out of it. The terrible headache lingering in the back of his skull probably had something to do with that dull haziness.
Then enough memory filtered back in to put the pieces back together. The realization that someone – Menphina or another – had all but shoved him out of his own head made him briefly want to put a hole in his wall, apologizing to Hien tomorrow be damned.
(It wasn't Menphina, he could feel that somehow. Actually, he wasn't so sure it'd even been intentional at all so much as instinctive of a thing, to make sure he stopped looking immediately.)
(It felt as though she was giving him space perhaps, but he didn't really have anything helpful to ask her anyway.)
When Menphina had all but begged him to stop digging, S'ria had thought the only barrier to understanding was an easily ignored ‘no trespassing sign’. Perhaps danger lay that way, but it was his own choice to proceed. After that though – it rather felt like an electrified fence, meant to stop him in his tracks the moment he made any real effort to pass it. Immediate penalty, enforced with or without conscious intervention perhaps.
Perhaps his much earlier comparison of her being like an anxious mother with a child intent on getting their hands near a hot stove was more apt than he'd realized. Do Not Touch indeed.
It was easy to hope that morning would reveal this all to be a dream, that this wasn't a new and complicated thing for him to navigate – but a few minor scrapes and a mostly healed-over cut suggested otherwise.
And besides, as he reminded himself – it was not new at all. It was quite an old problem, now that he was acknowledging it, but perhaps with an explanation now. A terrifying explanation, but one all the same.
S'ria was tired. Hopefully sleep would come more readily now.
#snow-system#ffxiv-oc#ffxiv-reactions#s'ria 🌸❄️#writings#oh boy it's time for This#sorry S'ria you're having like 3 different realizations in the same convo
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