Latest Posts by drmeowingfangirl - Page 3

May I present to you, Steven “Fix my outfit mid-fight” Grant.

JAKE LOCKLEY WITHIN 2 MINUTES OF BEING INTRODUCED

― Claude Monet

[text ID: I must have flowers, always, and always.]

I'd like to apologise in advance for the person I will become when I see the moon knight finale

“I felt my lungs inflate with the onrush of scenery—air, mountains, trees, people. I thought, "This is what it is to be happy.”

— Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar.

i’m an introvert until someone starts talking about the moon or my favorite books.

looking at my screen and waiting everything happening in my head will be typed itself somehow

Dissociation + Moonknight

disclaimer: this is a long post, I triggered myself slightly when talking about this and ended up going off on a tangent. There is discussions of ab*se, not in detail apart from one brief mention of a we*pon at the end, and also a brief mention of s*lf h*rm but other than that it is a discussion about people wanting to be just like Moonknight.

———————————————————————————

So, I’ve noticed some people on here and some others in marvel groups I’m in on Facebook recently commenting about wishing they had DID or another person in their mind to help them cope with the terrible things currently happening in their life.

I am not here to scold you, or aggressively condescend and talk down to you as someone who has trauma related disorders. I’m not here to make you feel ashamed for what can be seen as ‘normal’ thoughts when you see a show like this. However, please do be careful of what you say online in regards to mental illness, specifically trauma and dissociation. Those of us with these issues and disorders will see your posts, it is a very painful and invalidating for us to see what we perceive as people trying to romanticise and glorify our disorders. These disorders were born out of terrible, awful, scary things that have traumatised people for life, and should not be seen as anything but an unfortunate result of lifelong childhood trauma and not as a fun, “quirky” thing. It seems fun and stress free because you don’t actually have the said disorders and trauma so it is easy to play pretend when you can’t attach emotions and personal experience to it; when you actually do have these conditions it is not at all fun. It’s tiring both mentally and physically.

I do however understand the need and want to think this way at times because life is ultimately stressful for every single person on this planet; just existing is hard, but it is even harder for others who were forced to go through things as a kid that no child should ever have to go through. Life is even hard when you are a product of the brain dissociating from reality in order to protect itself.

Everyone at some point in their life has unknowingly activated their “auto-pilot” or “zoned out” brain function. For example; if you’ve ever been having a conversation with someone and completely spaced out part of what they’ve said to you, that is you subconsciously detaching from the current moment.

It’s a perfectly normal regular coping mechanism of the brain to be able to detach oneself from reality of the current situation in order to cling to something reassuring and avoid anxieties. Dissociation in general is normal, but when it starts to take over your entire life then it needs to be looked into by a professional.

In the case of DID, the traumatic event or events cause the self to fragment into a number of different selves, or alters. Some alters may be holding on to traumatic memories, while others are blocked from accessing these memories.

Dissociating often becomes the centre coping mechanism for traumatic experiences, anxiety, PTSD, or even depression. It can present unconsciously and will make you feel out of control of your own mind and body.

Dissociative Identity Disorder is not the only dissociative disorder, you can have DPDR - depersonalisation/derealisation disorder, and DDNOS (dissociative disorder not otherwise specified), amongst many others. The act of dissociation is also a symptom of many other mental illnesses, and sometimes in certain cases may not even be it’s own unique condition but rather a side effect of something else, for example BPD (borderline personality disorder).

It may seem really nice to be able to just “zone out” of stressful situations, but it really isn’t. You lose memories, you can’t trust your own mind, everything you remember is cloudy and foggy. I have very little recollection of my childhood, and what I do remember is mostly all negative. Mine started when I was roughly 11/12 years old. I came home one day crying from school when I experienced my first episode out of the blue with no warning ( I can not remember what triggered it, I can’t even remember how I got home, all I remember is the terrifying memory of laying on the floor at home) screaming that nothing was real and neither was I, I could see outside of my own body, I also couldn’t physically feel anything no matter how much I hurt myself, so in my mind this confirmed to me that my reality was not real and neither was I.

I spent the majority of my teen years fixating on this. Nobody ever explained to me what dissociation was or why it occurs. So, as an autistic person who struggled to identify what they were feeling and why to others, I couldn’t even explain it to myself, so I become obsessed with it. Because I was left untreated for so long, I kept telling myself none of this was real and neither was I, and because the dissociative episodes kept happening, in my mind it was solidifying it even further.

I genuinely believe, if someone had took the time to recognise what this was and talked to me, I wouldn’t have been as terrified, I would have learned to cope with it a lot younger and not fixated on something I couldn’t define so much, because a lot of the other trauma I have is from the episodes themselves, because they were utterly terrifying especially for an autistic child that doesn’t know how to say what’s going on.

I was told by my mother that it was normal to feel this way, that she use to be like that as a kid. Now as an adult I realise my mother was wrong, because my mother as I later learned during my own adulthood also had very severe childhood trauma, and what she was experiencing at my age, was not normal either and she should have gotten help at the time too.

For some reason, I would often have the worst catatonic episodes during school break. I would be unable to function for 2 and a half months and then entirety of summer. I wouldn’t eat, wouldn’t sleep, wouldn’t get up, I’d lay on the floor in the living room with a blanket and pillow and try to distract myself. It got to a point where I was so physically weak that I was underweight and I could not leave the home without weeks of planning and reassurance and an escort who had to let me hold on to them because I was so physically weak.

I am still not sure why at the time my worst dissociative moments occurred at summer time/break, I’m yet to discuss this weird set of foggy memories with my trauma therapist in a few weeks. Idk if something happened to me during summer one time that I don’t remember, or maybe it was just because the first episode roughly occurred around that time and was very traumatic so maybe that’s why that seasonal time was always a trigger for me thereafter. But it still doesn’t explain what triggered me the first time, because I still don’t remember.

I never got treatment for it, never got an explanation as to what it was and why, never had someone investigate and say “hold on, why is this 11 year old cutting themselves and dissociating surely somethings going on at home”, I got sent to neurology because I had a history of epilepsy as a child (also traumatic to go to sleep in your bed and then wake up connected to a monitor in hospital because you nearly died, which gave me enough trauma to give me a fear of sleeping to this day) so they believed it was a type of seizure or migraine, but they most certainly were not.

I started to understand at 18 by doing my own research as to what it was. But by this time, I dropped out of college twice because I couldn’t cope with dissociative episodes happening during class and feeling myself beginning to lose control of my body when I was trying to take notes. It’s only now at 25, after years of constantly being referred to CBT by lazy GP’s that I decided to speak to one of the CBT assessors on the phone. I mentioned to her that CBT doesn’t work for me, I’ve been doing it and counselling on and off since I was 13 years old and it would have worked by now. I plucked up the courage to say that it doesn’t get to the route of my problems, I admitted to her over the phone that I think I have unresolved childhood trauma from physical and mental abuse I suffered daily up until the age of 19 and that I need to speak to someone about that because that’s where all of my other problems are coming from.

And now, because I said that, I finally, after 2 years of waiting, have a trauma therapist who is doing EMDR with me.

I’ve only had 2 sessions with her and they’ve been introductions, dissociative tests, trauma tests, and some background into the neuroscience of it all, and even that has helped so much because I’m able to talk more about things even if we haven’t got to the actual trauma part in detail yet.

Having to cope with how terrifying it is to dissociate for some people, living with traumatic memories, avoiding triggers, still living with said abusers etc is not fucking worth being able to “zone out” when shits difficult. It’s not fun. At all. TV makes it seem fun and quirky because it’s TV land and you don’t have anything from your own life to identify with to understand, but my god I can not stress enough how “not fun” it is.

It is absolutely terrifying not recognising family members, “waking up” in a place you don’t even recall getting to, “waking up” mid sentence and not understand why words you’re not even saying are flowing out of your mouth, seeing yourself out of your body, not being able to feel anything physically, intense paranoia, night terrors, everything looking and feeling small and faraway, feeling like your floating and not actually tethered down, being beaten everyday, having someone run at you with a knife and press you against a wall. This is all shit I experience or have experienced - it’s different for everyone - but it is universally agreed that it is not fun.

Even when I think nothing has triggered me, my brain fucking dissociates anyway. I hate it. I hate it so goddamn fucking much. I’m always tired mentally and physically. I can’t do anything. I’m afraid and paranoid all the time, I avoid going outside in fear of it happening in public. I don’t want to let go or lose control around other people. I don’t like not having control.

Just please please be careful how you choose to cope with your current situation, maladaptive daydreaming can also be quite dangerous. Please try to think of others with these dissociative disorders before you say shit like this.

Do not even get me started on people on this site who literally pretend to have dissociative disorders.

It’s so goddamn hard and I’m so fucking tired.

thinking about how Marc constantly heard “it’s all your fault” from his mother to the point that that phrase is probably a constant refrain in his head, that he thinks that everything that does go wrong is inevitably his fault, that every move he makes will be wrong, that it’s always eventually going to come back to hurt him, but he still tries anyway.

thinking about how he must feel about Layla’s dad, about being unable to save him, and that it’s his fault, and that Layla will see it that way too and hate him for it just like his mother hated him for his brother’s death. That he thinks knows she’ll transform into a violent, vengeful person who will, metaphorically or literally, stalk him to the ends of the earth and hurt him for the rest of his life. And he’ll deserve it. Because it was his fault.

thinking about how hard he tried to protect Steven, only for Steven to blame him for everything that has gone wrong in his life once Marc makes himself known to Steven. How in the Duat, Steven says that if the world above ends because Marc won’t show him the truth, it’ll be all his fault.

Everything, all his fault, all the time, forever.

And then Steven, the one and probably only person to finally know everything, the full depth and breadth of Marc’s story, the avalanche of mistakes he’s made and the mountain of fault he carries, says what he’s always needed to hear:

You were just a child. It wasn’t your fault.

thinking about how, in two small sentences, a huge weight that’s been crushing him for a lifetime lightened. Because this other person saw him, all of him, all of the things he’s most ashamed of or hurt by, and didn’t see a monster, but a child. Didn’t see fault, but a mistake, one that would have always weighed on him but should have been forgiven a long time ago. That after knowing everything he’s done wrong, someone could love him and forgive him just like that: instantly, easily, and compassionately.

that’s fucking beautiful, man.

and then he had to watch that person DIE, helpless to save them. The moment Steven, who Marc always tried to protect, finally started to follow his lead by fighting instead of running, was in the next moment swept away from him. in a total accident, the person Marc was closest to died. AGAIN. this time to protect him. when he feels like Steven was the one he should have been protecting.

fuck you Marvel, fuck you Disney. y’all better fucking fix this.

Tulle Capes

Alice Corsets on Etsy

Elfin Tiaras and Crowns

Lola White on Etsy

the little things - romantic gestures i love

massaging their shoulders when they clearly had a long day

cupping their cheeks

random "i love you"'s just in case they forgot

kisses on the cheeks

kisses on the tip of their nose

or on their upper lip/cupids bow

playing with their fingers

reading with them

taking pictures of them when they don't realize it because they just look too good to not do so.

fixing their hair for them

pulling them closer when a cool breeze hits you both outside

linking arms

tying their shoe when you notice the laces flying around

knowing their morning routine so perfectly that you already have some of their breakfast/drinks laid out before they get to the kitchen

recording their favorite show on the dvr because you know they'll be in a little late tonight and miss it

gently wiping something off of their face and noticing them smiling because you're just so cute and close

pulling each other into the warmest hugs

dancing together for the first time

letting them take a sip of your drink, then another, then another, then- you might as well let them keep it

giving them a bite of your food

brushing your teeth together and looking at yourselves in the mirror

resting your head on their shoulder

once again, our lives are in the hands of our beloved lord and savior Taiki Waititi

All the Phase 4 MCU shows have been a duo/two-person story. We have:

1) Elizabeth Olsen and Paul Bettany playing a married couple with kids.

2) Anthony Mackie and Sebastian Stan playing frenemies-turned-brothers in arms.

3) Tom Hiddleston and Sophia Di Martino playing enemies-turned-friends-turned-lovers.

4) Jeremy Renner and Hailee Steinfeld playing a mentor and mentee with father-daughter vibes.

And now we have…

5) Oscar Isaac and Oscar Isaac playing an introverted British man being forced on a trip around the world by his American mercenary alter.

steven’s excitement when exploring the tomb is how my exact excitement when i talk about marvel

Dating Steven Grant Would Include...

Request: could you please do what would dating my sweet baby steven grant would include please if not it’s okay! i love you hope you’re doing good! 🤍

Of my goodness my lovely of course!!

If you enjoy, please do let me know!! I’ve been really anxious about posting my work recently, so every kind comment really does help <3

Warning, slight NSFW content!

(I do not own Moon Knight or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @marveledits.)

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°

Steven Grant, first and foremost, is a worry wart. I mean, a MASSIVE worry wart. Poor man was lying cradling his knees on the museum’s bathroom floor before he even had a chance to build up the nerve to ask you, his colleague, out for some bread or pizza or something.

The poor man, he nearly passed out when he came scrambling out from the bathroom after lunch and back to the gift shop desk. The sweat was pretty much dripping off his skin, and his mouth kept floundering as he ran and skidded to a stop in front of where you were scanning the new box of scorpion jellies.

‘Hiy/n-I think you’re really beautiful-and I’ve liked you for  aslongasIcanremember- do you wanna maybe get some bread?’

You weren’t sure whether to start blushing as you placed the scanner down, or jump over the desk and hold your hands out for him with how much he was wobbling back and forth on his feet. As you step round towards him, the poor boi is wringing his hands so tightly they fear they might snap off. So you do the only thing you can think of and grab them, lips twitching at the way his eyes widen and you can hear the breath hitch in his throat.

He’s watching the way your lips move, eyes brimming with tears and close to crying as you tell him ‘you’d love to go to dinner with him, are you free tonight?’. He finds he can only nod fervently, the grin that brightens his face so colossal and overwhelming he starts hyperventilating. You have to sit with him, tucked knee to tuck knee under the desk for a while, hiding from your boss and cradling his shaking hands on your knees. Every so often while you’re talking his forehead accidently bumps against yours, and he breaks out into a fit of nervous giggles.

I feel like your first kiss would be on the museum steps a few weeks after dating. It had been a lovely evening of eating chimichangas and sharing an ice cream on the stone fountain by his living statue friend. He had extended his arm to you, and you gripped the soft rumples of his jacket happily as the two of you wandered back to the bus stop by the museum square. The two of you had a few minutes to spare before your buses arrived at the terminal, so he gladly agreed when you asked if he’d like to just sit for a while and watch the sunset. 

You can find him inching closer and closer every so often on the cold marble step next to you, stopping so often as if terrified that you’ll finally come to your senses and reject his presence. Eventually, he’s sort of half sitting with his fists resting uncomfortably on his knees, and half scrunched over you. But his presence is always so soft, so calm, so comforting, as he peers up at you with those wonderous eyes. His attention is always on you. Always. Just looking at you with this almost timeless intensity. As if it’s the most natural thing in the world, to want to spend his whole life ensnared by the most superlunary being he’s ever met. It feels like burning, the fire flickering in his eyes as he gazes at you betraying how much love cripples him on the inside, and yet he’s still smiling that gentle smile. As if he’s just always been waiting for you, and suddenly everything makes sense.

Keep reading

meet cute (?)

steven grant x reader | fluff, no pronouns, no spoilers!

a small oneshot in celebration of moon knight premiere. you can expect more fics for steven after more episodes are released <3

"Is this— is this seat taken?" an exhausted voice asked.

"No, I don't think so," you said with a smile. The man sat down, immediately sighing in relief. Your first thought was about how he looked kind of cute, but you internally scolded yourself.

You haven't even met him for five seconds, get a grip.

"Are you okay?" you asked moments later. "I have a flask of tea in my bag; you look like you've been through hell."

He looked startled, as if he wasn't used to strangers willingly talk to him. He immediately started to stammer.

"I just didn't— sleep well. Woke up and realized I'm late so I had to run. I swear I don't usually look like a zombie," he rambled on, and you watched him with a smile. That didn't help him either. If anything, it only made him more confused.

"So you didn't have breakfast?" you prodded.

He shook his head, not wanting to speak more and embarrass himself.

"Then it's settled." You unzipped your bag and brought out the flask, careful not to drop the other items on the floor. The bus was still speeding through the streets, so you handed the flask over to him while you zipped your bag properly.

Which was the worst thing you could have done because he was nothing if not clumsy.

He wanted to help, wanted to express his gratitude in some way, so he had tried opening the lid by himself. That part went ever so smoothly, but as he poured the content into the mug-shaped lid, the bus turned right, and all the tea went straight to the person on his left — you.

"Oh my gosh," he exclaimed while you yelped in surprise. The tea was still warm, but your jacket had taken most of the heat. Some still leaked through and stained your t-shirt, but at least you weren't burnt.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"It's fine, it's fine, I just need a towel." You rummaged through your bag again, but there didn't seem to be anything useful.

"I can get you new clothes," he said quickly.

"You don't have to, it was an accident—"

"No I mean, I work at a gift shop," he explained. "It's the next stop and I'll quickly get you a new t-shirt, if you'd like. You'll be a walking advertisement for the museum but atleast you won't be wearing the stained one — which I'm so sorry about by the way."

"You work at the museum?"

He frowned. Why did you look so impressed? "Yes. Uhm yes, at the gift shop. I said that part already, didn't I?"

"You did," you laughed. "I go to the museum every month — I love history. Why haven't I seen you before?"

"I'm not exactly a tour guide."

"That's a shame," you commented, shrugging. "Well, I don't have to be at my workplace for another hour so I'll take you up on the gift shop offer. Only if you allow me to buy you tea. And tacos."

"Oh?" he blinked in surprise.

"You haven't had breakfast yet, right? You must be hungry."

"That's right, yeah," he tried a smile, one that didn't quite look nervous anymore. Just genuinely happy. He decided he liked your company. "Okay, it's a dat- deal. It's a deal."

"You're cute," you said, laughing again.

He wondered if he looked as flustered as he felt. He wondered why he felt so warm and fuzzy inside.

Throughout the entire day, two words echoed through his mind, almost making him wanna twirl and giggle like a teenage boy again.

I'm cute.

someone take me out. either in the date way or the assassination way

#MCU Phase 4: 

Hey alexa, play ‘hippopotamus’ by Oscar Isaac

Steven Grant and Marc Spector in MOON KNIGHT (2022-) S01E04 | “The Tomb”

i want to read i crave to read i yearn to take a whole month off any responsibility i have ever and to throw my phone into the ocean and just surround myself with books and entrench myself in them and forget that anything outside of their worn but comforting pages exists

Person A: Here are our vampire costumes and ten bags of blood you asked for.

Person B: Thank you, darling! But how did you manage to come across so much of fake blood at the last minute?

Person A: F-Fake blood?!

attractive men in complete despair has gotta be one of my favorite genres of man.

fuck me up mr. doctor wizard sir

Steven grant, my poor little meow meow

Watching Sherlock makes me want to put on a long coat and stride around in breezy weather

Marc could hit me with a car and I’d apologise to him

Steven could be driving a car, and I’d throw myself in front of it to make him apologise to me

KHONSHU: Parasite! Idiot! Useless!

STEVEN: Okay… Ouch…

MARC: Ignore him, he’s just mad cause he has no neck

KHONSHU: Wow, what the fuck Marc?

Hello! Just a Steven for youu 😄

Just look at him.

Imagine him coming home from work, having spent the day being berated and bullied by his boss, (he always bites his tongue because he's just too much of a nice guy to retaliate.) He feels tired and worn down, like his sanity is only being held together by a thread.

But then he opens the door to his apartment and sees you and it's as if he's just witnessed the sunrise after an endless winter. The tension melts from his shoulders and he doesn't even bother kicking off his shoes or removing his jacket as he makes a beeline for the couch and joins you there.

You've grown accustomed to him being the small spoon and his body moulds perfectly against yours as if whoever was responsible for your existence had prior knowledge of your union and created you both accordingly.

He'd tell you about his day, speaking his words into your neck and adding that his work shift was only made survivable by the knowledge that afterwards he'd get to return to you. He'd probably apologize for being tired and not making much conversation because he's just that sweet.

Such pretty, strained whimpers would fall past his parted lips when your fingers work their way into his curls and he'd just fall apart beneath your hand, secure in the knowledge that you'll put him back together again when the time comes.