what a day (what a lovely day)

Title:  Detachment Author: Bonehandledknife Artists: Sdiosb | SDeeyS (NSFW profile) Word Count: 29k Rating: Explicit Pairing: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne Continuity: DCU  Summary: “Master Bruce, of all the things I’d ever expected to walk in on—” Alfred began, with great prejudice. “I do hope there’s a good explanation for this.” Bruce, clad in a black bathrobe, looked up from his microscope. A disembodied penis, from its place on the table, raised its head too. They appeared to regard one another then Bruce turned to shake his head at Alfred. “No.” “‘No’?” “No, I don’t have a good explanation.” Alfred paused in thought. “Well.”

A story of growth and healing over a scarred and painful past. reblogging and liking is appropriate if you choose to. A mix of healthy and less. Content Warning for childhood sexual abuse and gas-lighting, among other things. Content exclaimer for love of self, positive growth, apologies, love, and sweet nature drawings.

HI IM //////// BUT YOU MIGHT KNOW ME AS /////. THIS IS WHAT MY MIND LOOKS LIKE MOST OF THE TIME.

I have APHANTASIA: The inability to form mental images of objects that are not present. James: I’m unable to count sheep, pull up a mental castle, or visualize success. I just can’t access my visual imagination* while awake. *Except during lucid dreams, PTSD flashes, and with great focus.

I also have PROSOPAGNOSIA: A neurological condition characterized by the inability to recognize the faces of familiar– James: People make things really complicated, you know? I don’t feel human. I’m a dragon. An anything but a person. Just ask society. Just as Everyone.

This is me. [A purple splotch about the size of a thumb. I am purple. I am not: 

 -A face. -A face. -A face. How could I be when I can’t recognize old photos? I write stories. I am dyslexic. I tell stories. I am often tongue-tied, colloquially, not medically, my tongue connects just fine, it’s my neurons and their paths and the fires they set in the forest of my brain that lead to tangents even I’m lost on. [crossed out “I’m sorry, again”.]

[Image of a small child holding a teddy bear and a flashlight, very tiny against the writing.]

I will try to be brave and show you the past. Let you see what my mind’s eye won’t let me. Because [writing begins to become erratic] EVEN THOUGHT MY BRAIN FEELS BROKEN it isn’t. It just needs a gentle reminder that I’m safe. It’s ok. I’m ok.

When I was young enough I still breastfed, I had to go to my Granny’s house–my Dad’s Mom– and to make up for the change, she gave me a bear. [In cursive brown letters that connect to a bear] Teddy and a bottle. [Next to the bear] Love at 1st sight! [To the left] As I write this, Teddy is on my dresser watching.

He gives the best hugs. When I got him, he was Bigger than me! I loved to hug him tight and tell him what I wanted to hear. Teddy: “I love you so much. You give the best hugs. I love when you play with me, and I really like your stories.” Granted, I was like, 2, so I probably actually said “I love you. You are good.”

DYSLEXIA: A general term for disorders that involve difficulty in learning to read or interpret words, letters, and other symbols, but that do not affect general intelligence. [Image of a sleeping woman drawn in blue on a couch next to a little child and a teddy bear on the floor, looking at an open book in confusion.] When I was little my brain was bad but I was a Good Girl so my mom homeschooled me so I wouldn’t be called FREAK, STUPID, LOSER!

Despite my [erratic emphasis] BAD BRAIN, I learned how to read, write, and talk “correctly”. All I had to do was [in grey ink “HURT SO BADLY” is crossed out in normal purple ink with “Hurt a bit”] when I read. Mom told me reading made me smart like her. It let me talk to people. It let me have people. Sometimes, I pretended I was one. [Image of a small faceless child holding an open book in one hand and a teddy bear in the other.]

[Kroger image from the grocery chain, where the capital ‘K’ loops over the 'o’ to meet the lowercase 'g’ and its tail.] Once at 4am on a grocery run I said “The letters 'K’ and 'G’ look like they’re hugging, mom!” Mom: “You think everything looks like it’s hugging.”

Once at 4am when I was in bed reading, I heard my door knob rattle. I turned off the lamp and held my friend tight. I was reading a scary story. A monster clearly wanted to eat me but I’ve locked my doors, I was Safe. [Loosely drawn map in mostly grey that shows three doors to the bedroom, a bed along the north wall, and a door labeled MONSTER in black ink along the tip right.]

Me: Alright, I guess we could do that for a bit. What do you wanna read? 

Brain: Don’t know. Wanna read. 

Me: There’s a lot to choose from. How about this? 

Brain: No. Not that. I wanna read a thing that fits these exact specifications. 

Me: Uh, alright, wow. Those are really exact specificatio-

Me: …

Me: Are you telling me you want to read the exact thing we were writing? 

Brain: YES! I wanna read that. Let’s read that. 

Me: …

humans irl: *pack bond with strangers*

*pack bond with large carnivores*

*pack bond with robots in space thousands of miles away*

My family likes to vacation in Topsail, North Carolina, which is a little barrier island mostly covered in vacation homes. We rent a huge house in their off season, when most people consider it too cold to be at the beach, and we, with our icewater blood, consider it quite pleasantly deserted.

I love going for walks at night, especially when there’s a clear sky, so I, age sixteen, would go a few miles up the beach around midnight most nights. One night, while still about a mile from our house, I saw something rolling in the surf. 

“That’s either a plastic bag caught on a log,” I thought, “Or a four foot shark.”

I jogged over. It was not a plastic bag caught on a log. 

The shark was moving and didn’t appear to be hurt, but was caught in water only an inch or so deep, being pushed higher with every wave. I was by myself, and didn’t own a cell phone, and couldn’t see a house with lights on in either direction. There was nobody around. Leaving to go get help would probably take long enough for him to suffocate. The best thing I could do for this shark, I figured, would be to get him back in the ocean. 

I have no idea how he wound up so high on the beach, because it was a very shallow slope. I’d have to carry him a good fifteen or so feet to get him into water deep enough to swim. It was nearly a full moon, so I could sort of see what I was doing. I got a grip on the shark, careful not to squeeze too hard, in case he was hurt, and picked him up. He didn’t like that at all. 

I started walking into the water. Here’s a thing I didn’t know about sharks: They’re pretty damn flexible. I got a couple steps with this shark, looked down, and realized there were a hell of a lot of teeth coming directly at my forearm. 

It occurred to me that I had not thought this through very well.

I’m not proud of what I did. It seemed like the best way to get this shark back in deep enough water and avoid dropping thirty pounds of very bitey animal directly on my own toes. So.

I yote the shark with as much force as I could muster. 

He curved through the air like a thing of beauty, all angry and toothsome in the moonlight, and splashed wonderfully into the deeper waters. I caught a glimpse of fin diving away shortly after. 

Anyways: 

Dr. James Barry had a close relationship with Lord Charles Somerset and was subsequently accused of buggery, which led to a court trial and investigation as homosexuality was illegal. He could have revealed that he was female at any time during the trial to escape condemnation, but he did not. Upon his death, Barry left strict instructions that his body was not to be undressed and he was to be buried in his bedsheets. 

Albert Cashier could not read or write, but lived as a man for 53 years, even after fighting in the uniform of a Union soldier, he maintained his male dress and presentation until he slipped and fell, breaking his hip. 

The indomitable stagecoach driver Charlie Parkhurst lived as a man from the time he was 12, and after retiring, maintained his identity as a man until his death.

i’d also like to add

- The word “friend” already exists and is gender neutral you don’t need another word for friends of the same gender

- I’m gay and confused

Y’all: