#am i reaching with these? yes but do i care? no

[aychama]

Bearer of the Red Crown's Birthday

"These pompous assholes." Narinder opened the door to escape outside and take a breather.

"They were never taught to shut the hell up were they?" He rubbed his temples and wondered why was their birthday gift to him was a headeache.

The calm but obnoxiously loud people inside the greathall had gathered to congradulate the King's birthday. Of course it was a big event and many of the nobles were attending. Some even travveled from the other kingdoms.

But to Narinder it was just a nuisance, just like how it was every year.

They had gathered to make connections, threaten eachother covertly or simply suck up to Narinder. He had to put up with these people and act like they wouldn't turn on him with the twirl of any one of his siblings finger.

He was just looking for a place to hide now but it seemed his hiding place was occupied by a slouched figure.

"Lambert?" Narinder noticed the figure in the corner next to the flower bushes.

"BAH!" They shout out a short bleat and turned towards him. Their funny noise and freaked out face was like a cold fresh water being splashed on Narinder's hot and aching head.

"My King! Please, you need to stop sneaking up on me..." Lambert sighed and got up.

Were they getting away from people too? That wasn't good. He had specifically told them to use this oppurtunity to make connections so they could have people helping them with their new lands troubles.

Just as he was about to start his lecture he noticed the neatly folded fabric in Lambert's hands.

"Is this..." he saw the little bow it was wrapped with.

A gift.

Lambert looked at the item in their hands, hesitated a little and presented it towards him.

"For you, yes."Narinder's fingers brushed Lambert's as he took it and started examining it. It was a red and white scarf.

"Aym and Baal said that you get cold easily so... I was actually going to knit it myself but it was way harder to do than I thought it would be. Haha..." They let out a defeated sigh hidden with a tired smile.

"I-it's not an expensive item I know but I-"

"It's made out of your wool." Narinder cut them off as he took off the bow and ran his fingers through the fabric. It was so, oh so soft. He didn't even have to bring his nose closer to it to know it smell like them.

"You can tell?" Lambert's face looked horrified, their smile dropping down as they looked up at him.

They suddenly reached out towards the scarf and started to pull it out of Narinder's hands.

"That's just weird isn't it? I-I knew it would be weird argh stupid Berith-"

"Wh- No!"Narinder did not let go of the scarf and it stretched between the two."Lambert no it's not weird." He looked at them hoping he sounded genuine.

"It's no secret that I like wool and this is perfect." Lambert stopped pulling and looked at Narinder, unsure.

He had gotten many presents today. So many that he lost count. So many things that he did not care. Jewelry, expensive items, some magical crystals, decorative weapons. Presents that were given to a King so that they wouldn't lose face or even worse, so that the noble families could look at eachother and say 'Look at how rich I am. The King surely likes me more than all of you so I can use him to scare you and get my way'. It was all so obvious and so shallow that he thought the amount of jewelry and necklaces were going to stuf his throat so much that he could drown without water.

But this,

This was from Lambert.

And it didn't have any underlying intentions.

Narinder slowly pulled the scarf from Lambert's hesitant hands.

"I remember reading a book when I was young."

He wrapped the scarf around his neck.

"It was about the culture of our folk."

He adjusted the scarf and both ends hung over his shoulders lovingly.

"And I remember reading that sheep-folk would give eachother gifts made out of their own wool to show their appreciation for eachother." He adjusted the scarf and looked at them to see the curiosity color their pretty face.

"Really?" Lambert asked and he nodded softly.

Narinder knew that Lambert wasn't taught of their own culture. It was...sad... but not unexpected. There wasn't really any sheep-folk in the 5 kingdoms other than them.

To think Shamura's old books he randomly decided to read would have a lot about sheep-folk in them. Too bad that wretched younger brother of his burnt down Shamura's library just because he was jealous Shamura would read books with Narinder... Narinder wishes that Shamura would have killed Leshy right then and there but they didn't. Soft hearted fool who went easy on all of their siblings but not on their enemies. And that included Narinder too.

Narinder shook his head to get rid of the hatred starting to boil up in his gut and focused on the scarf and Lambert. Their smell and their soft wool was all around him, quickly calming him down as he lowered his head to bury the bottom half of his face into the scarf.

He heard the softest giggle.

"You look silly."

Narinder opened his eyes, he didn't even know when he had closed them, and looked at Lambert.

They were smiling so soft and warmly at him. His throat clogged up again but he wasn't feeling bad this time.

"It's clashing with the rest of the jewelry badly."

He couldn't take his eyes off of Lambert's smile as they talked.

He thanked God that he always had his veil because he didn't think he could explain why he was looking at Lambert's smile like it was the only thing in the world.

"And it looks funny with your fancy clothes. Maybe I should have told Berith to make it look more expensive." Lambert laughed. If he could eat their voice he bet it would taste like fluffy candy, he thought.

The two heard some people talking about where the king has gone from inside and Narinder sighed.

Lambert reached towards Narinder's neck and tugged at the scarf.

"You need to go back in right? You can't just look like this in front of everyone. I'll put it next to the pile of gifts-"

He grabbed their arm and stopped them from taking the scarf.

"No." He said firmly.

"But-"

"Who said I would be going in alone? I remember telling a certain someone that they need to make connections because their poor decisions while ruling their own land had left them in a troubling state." He turned the conversation towards Lambert seemlessly to cover up whatever he was feeling right now.

"A-ah that! I have a little bit of a-no actually a big headache from talking with so many- soooo many people yknow?" Lambert stumbled over their words.

Narinder let the silence fall between them to show them he did not believe them.

"Let's go. I suppose I have to be the one to intruduce you to people." Narinder pulled Lambert by the arm that he had grabbed and walked towards the door.

"I'm- My King! You shouldn''t- you don't need to pull me!"

[unhingedangstaddict]

Currently working on my own fix-it fic but man this shit is harder than I thought it'd be- I keep crying and then getting distracted reading other fix-it fics. Thought I'd share this snippet to hopefully motivate myself to keep going???

Hen was starting to wonder if maybe Tommy was out for a run when she heard a faint ‘oh shit’ from inside the house. She banged on the door again. “Come on Kinard! I know you’re in there!” She called out. If Tommy’s neighbors thought she was crazy, oh well, too bad. Hen really didn’t care.

Finally the door was opened by Tommy. His hair was a mess- sticking up as though he’d been running his hands through it far too much-, he had deep dark bags under his eyes from lack of sleep, his eyes were puffy from crying, and frankly, he looked like shit. “What do you want, Hen?” Tommy rasped. Whether his voice was hoarse due to dehydration or yelling and/or crying was unclear.

“To talk about what happened last night.” Hen crossed her arms.

“You mean you’re here to yell at me for what I did?" Tommy guessed. He hadn't forgotten the thinly veiled shovel talk from Hen and Karen months back at the medal ceremony- he wasn't surprised Hen was here now. “Trust me I hate myself for it enough. There’s nothing you can say that I haven’t already thought about myself.”

“No. I’m here to try and understand what even happened. According to Eddie, Buck wasn’t making very much sense last night. Eddie would’ve come himself to check on you but he’s got Buck right now. Eddie’s worried about you and frankly, I am too.”

Tommy sighed deeply and stepped aside to let Hen into the house.

Soon they were sitting at Tommy’s kitchen table with mugs of coffee in hand.

“So are you gonna tell me what happened or are you just gonna keep having that staring contest with your coffee?” Hen questioned.

“He asked me to move in with him.” Tommy admitted quietly.

“Okay,” Hen said slowly, waiting for Tommy to explain further why he was upset by it. Beyond the obvious matter of Buck leasing his loft apartment and Tommy owning his house, Hen wasn’t sure what the issue was.

“For a split second, I thought about saying yes.” Tommy confessed. “Then I returned to reality and realized I had to end it.”

“But why?” Hen questioned.

“Even if it was only for a second, Hen, I was ready to, what? Sell my house and more than half my stuff to move in with him? I’m not even mad about that part- I’m upset with myself for considering it. I’ve been in Evan’s position before, first gay relationship, lovesick, you think it’s gonna last forever. And I’ve been the first for guys before too. Like I told Evan last night, I know how it ends. And I guess I’d rather break my own heart than wait around for Evan to do it.”

“If you’ve been so sure all this time that it could never work, why did it take until now for you to call things off?” Hen questioned.

“I think from the start I knew I was playing with fire. After the last guy I was a first for, I told myself I wasn’t going to do it anymore. Then I met Evan, and he was just so magnetic, I couldn’t stay away even if I wanted to. I couldn't say no to him. I think I always knew my heart would get broken, and I guess I was okay with that all this time, until last night when I realized I love him, and I knew I had to cut myself off before I reached a point of no return.” Tommy explained. “I mean, I’m a fucking a mess right now and I was the one who called it off. I don’t know if I would’ve been able to survive him ending it.”

“Did you really just figure out last night that you love him?” Hen asked.

“I guess I sorta loved him from the start but last night was different, Hen. I’m in love with him, like well and truly love him, in a way I’ve never felt before, about anyone.” Tears filled Tommy’s eyes. “And I’m just his first. And as badly as I want it, I know I don’t get to be his last.”

“What makes you so sure you can’t be his last?” Hen wondered.

“Because I’m not the forever guy." Tommy shrugged slightly as a tear finally escaped and slid down his cheek. "At best I’m the close-to-but-never-quite-enough guy."

[breadvidence]

I've dithered over making this post because I will feel incredibly silly if everyone else got this on the first go-through rather than the—Lord alone knows how many times I've read this particular scene, actually—but there I was, me and "The Seventh Circle and the Eighth Heaven"—as you do, for idle and entertainment, and I reach

If you will allow it, I will come to see her. I assure you that I desire it greatly. If I had not cared to see Cosette, I should not have made to you the confession that I have made, I should have gone away; but, as I desired to remain in the place where Cosette is, and to continue to see her, I had to tell you about it honestly. You follow my reasoning, do you not? it is a matter easily understood.

And realized that despite the character stating his reason right there in the text I have misunderstood badly. I took Valjean's intent with this confession and in his behavior afterwards to be separation from Cosette, that his desired outcome is to die alone, that he struggles against his love of her to reach that solitude, but it's—not. He says earlier that it's not, as well.

Stay, the unfortunate point is that I have a thread in my heart, which keeps me fast. It is when one is old that that sort of thread is particularly solid. All life falls in ruin around one; one resists. Had I been able to tear out that thread, to break it, to undo the knot or to cut it, to go far away, I should have been safe. I had only to go away; there are diligences in the Rue Bouloy; you are happy; I am going. I have tried to break that thread, I have jerked at it, it would not break, I tore my heart with it.

The thread—to Cosette. He can't separate himself. He would not have to make this confession if he could simply leave her. Therefore he has to confess to Marius for two reasons, as I see it: (1) a big dramatic compulsion to honesty about his symbolic status as one who cannot live in the family of men, sure, but (2) like, real literally, he cannot live in the house. Valjean is practical, he makes arrangements, he's smart, his confession draws from the saint but I think it's also the thief, and what does the thief need? A co-conspirator. Both morally and practically he's averse to living at the Rue des Filles-du-Calvaire, and with both Cosette and her "master" Marius pushing him to move in, he'd have to move totally away, as he's certainly not going to give in—but now he's got Marius' backing to allow him to stay at the Rue de l'Homme-Armé, and he can exist in the in-between space he's always occupied, there in the back courtyard of Cosette's life.

I always wondered at Valjean's vacillation—that he says "To-day, Cosette passes out of my life; our two roads part. Henceforth, I can do nothing for her.", then begs Marius for the right to visit her. But he didn't change his intent at all; he was always keen to visit, to live on the crumbs that scatter from the table. He simply can't pull up a chair.

Marius' passive-aggressive attack on that thread, the destruction of Valjean's heart, Valjean is complicit in accepting that, yes. But he did not come into this parlor looking for that outcome.

🤦‍♂️

[reallycoolsoup]

More details: Biden lied saying he gave an ultimatum that if aid wasn't allowed into Gaza and a ceasefire called then we would stop supporting israel with weapons. This was a lie to hopefully boost democrat turnout for the election but since the deadline was after the election it didn't matter if he followed through (he did not nor do any of us think he would have)

If you saw any people saying Kamala and Joe are working tirelessly for a ceasefire it was just straight up a lie, democrats care more about continuing this genocide than they do winning elections, which is why the deadline was set after the election so they could sell a false promise they never were actually going to follow through with

The Zionist don't want a ceasefire or more aid to go to Gaza, they want to expand israel and want every Arab whose land they stole to die. The iof is not fighting a defensive war they are trying to exterminate the Palestinian peoples and Biden has been a die hard Zionist who will do anything he can to keep the genocide going and lies to the America people to try to look less bad while not actually doing anything

He's a vile evil senile man and I hope he rots in hell as soon as possible

However if you have the ability you can help Palestinians by sharing or donating to their GoFundMe campaigns like Hanan's (vetted by @/gazavetters #140)

Things are dire for the people of Gaza so please share donations and give if you can

I feel nauseous even thinking about the depravity required for the Biden admin to leak that fake ultimatum on increasing aid flow into Gaza, to have the deadline be right after the election, what's was the fucking point of that, so needlessly hateful and cynical, all for fucking nothing, I hate the democratic party so much these people are EVIL, it needs to go the way of the whigs or we are all fucked

[transbianmuffin]

The leash and the liquorice pt.1

cw petplay, queer horny stuff

"My beloved tulip?"

"Yes, Mistress?"

"I need to go visit Xarsei, apparently there have been issues on Jupiter that require my attention. Would you like to come with me so you can play a bit with Kyle in the meantime?"

"Oh yes yes yes please~"

"Look at you, I can see the yearning in your eyes. Do you like Kyle don't you?"

"Yes, Kyle is a nice friend. and we have always lots of fun together."

"You two together are adorable. You will probably start making out and humping on each other as soon as we enter Xarsei's hab."

"Well..."

"I have an idea for this playdate of yours."

"Y- yes?"

"Psylocra developed a special treat for florets who are into petplay. You can think of it as a mix of Class A, D, J and H. Xersei already accepted to have Kyle try it. I am asking you if you want to take it as well. Psylocra will be there all the time watching and recording your reactions but you two will be able to play undisturbed."

"Is it safe?"

"My dearest, will I ever expose you to any kind of danger? Besides I know you will love it."

"No miss, that's not- that's not what I meant."

"That's my good girl. You'll have to take it now and then we need to onset it before leaving. Here, eat this."

"Mh, tastes like liquorice."

"Yes, Psylocra was a bit unsure on the flavoring, I told her liquorice is one of your favourites."

"Oh~ this is nice."

"How are you feeling?"

"Dizzy, thoughts are becoming harder and harder to..."

"Having troubles to keep yourself on two feets, my dearest floret?"

"Yes. On fours, better."

"What are you?"

"A- a pet."

"Yes you are, you are the most gorgeous pet. Now surrender your thoughts. Good pets do not need thoughts."

yes mistress

*ARF*

did I just barked? Wait I can't talk? What?

"That's my good girl, who's a good girl?"

I am I am I AM I AM

*ARF ARF*

"Yes you, yes you are! Such a good girl."

yes mistress happy I am happy I am a good girl

"Now: paw."

my han- my paw immediately raises to reach her vine

"Very good. Sit."

I did good I did good yes! ok, sit, simple. Wait what does sit mean? What? Sitsitsit. What was sit?

"Deena, sit."

oh nono mistress angry at Deena mistress angry Deena is good puppy Deena sit but what sit what sit

*whining*

"It's simple little pet, sit. If you sit I'll reward you."

deena wants reward deena loves mistress deena wants reward deena loves mistress deena wants reward deena loves mistress sit sit sit sit is back paws down front paws up sit yes sit

"Like that, yes. Very good girl, my beloved floret."

*RUFF RUFF RUFF*

"Deena, low your voice."

low voice yes low voice deena loves mistress deena lows voice mistress order

"Your reward: scritches behind the ears."

mistress vines yes ohhhhh~

this good this sooooo~ gooood~

"My, my what do we have here? Someone's excited, you're leaking all over and just from some ear scritches."

*aaaaaarf~*

"Maybe you want me to take care of that? Maybe you want my vines around all your little body? Is that what you want?"

yesyesyesyesyes please Deena good girl Deena want mistress

*arf arf! ARF!*

"Like this?"

*a~ arf~ r-ruff*

soo good vines touch pleasure love vines pleasure touch Deena cum now Deena cum now now now

"No. I see where you're going there. No, my beloved. I don't want to spoil your playdate with the other puppy."

but but but but but Deena want cum Deena close cum

*whines*

"I said no, Deena. Now be a good pet and let me leash you. We have to go. I don't want to make Xarsei and Psylocra wait for us. Come on, good girl."

[akirathedramaqueen]

CBT and Exposure Therapy: Blitzø Showcase

An important (really, don't skip) disclaimer

If you are contemplating whether or not you would benefit from any kind of therapy, consider consulting with your medical provider first. While I did my best to validate all the points made using publicly available resources, I am not a medical professional. At the very least, I strongly advise that you do your own research and not take some amateur's opinion about a character from a silly demon show for granted.

"Everyone in this show needs fucking therapy STAT!"

We hear fans screaming into the void every now and then. Me too. I plead guilty and I willingly put myself in custody. But I am not taking these words back.

Especially often it is being said with Blitzø in mind, who, as hinted earlier and clearly shown in the latest episode, Ghostfuckers, is not doing okay. Not in the slightest.

Which is . . . yes. Indeed, trauma-ridden Blitzø is a major problem for both him and those around him. Yes, we see him reaching his lowest point now exactly because he left these gaping wounds untreated for so long.

But the tricky question is—how, though? What to do? Will a good talking to a confidante help? Or, maybe, some kind of shock would snap him out of the spiral?

I've been pondering on this topic for more than 4 months, and, as the Ghostfuckers came out, I finally got all the data I need to prove a point. The show did all the job for me and effectively made Blitzø go through improvised versions of two popular therapy techniques. And, before I even start, I want to say—I am so glad with what we ended up with. What they did, and, more importantly, didn't do, aligns well with how it would likely happen in real life.

So buckle up, and let's see where it gets us!

Therapy # 1. Cognitive-behavioral therapy, or CBT

This is, in essence and with some corrections, your good old talking. Here you can find more information about it, so, if you're not familiar with the topic, I recommend following the link first.

But, very shortly: CBT is an extremely common approach to be tried while you're dealing with anxiety, depression, and a number of other mental disorders. What it aims to do is to help you get past unhelpful thinking (distortions) and learn not to act on it.

Looks like it fits the bill, right? Blitzø has a lot of issues with self-fulfilling prophecies, infuriatingly stupid assumptions, poorly thought-out actions . . .

But he's not like, you know . . . w-we're not, like . . . we're not doing a . . . w-we . . . what's betw— It's a transactional fucking, you see.

If you don't feel like coming, that's OK! I'm sure I can do without it for one month. :)

Stolas only cares about having a rugged peasant raw-dog him into his matress! It's nothing, ya know . . . it's nothing else.

You . . . no longer have any obligation to see me, to touch me, to bed me . . . You are— you are free of me.

He sees things which aren't truly there.

It's not Stolas giving him space after the disaster in the 'Ozzie's.' It must be Stolas not needing him anymore, getting tired of him.

It's not Stolas caring about Blitzø. He is a royal, why would he care how an imp's day he happened to be fucking was?

It's not Stolas setting Blitzø free and putting an end to a problematic transaction they had with the hope for it to grow into something more. It's him getting rid of Blitzø.

As a result, he ends up hurting himself and the relationship he had with that one sad gay bird he happened to fall deeply for but literally trashed in his own house twice, acting on nothing more than frenetic fear of losing Stolas, but in reality, driving him away even more . . . for good.

I mean, you royal fucks think you can do this every time, like you can just play with our feelings because we're smaller and not as important!

Ha! I'm right, aren't I? You get off getting plowed by people you look down on!

And I can sorry more people, everyone but you! 'Cause I don't owe you dick! Everyone, but you . . .

So, the case's closed? Let someone—say, Millie—talk to him and tell him how wrong he was about himself and the others?

Well, here's the thing. Despite him being infinitely wrong about Stolas's intentions, we can't deny the fact that every one of his beliefs was not, in fact, a distortion. It'd led him to wrong conclusions, yes, but it was built on the information he received and legitimate experiences he had in his life. Here are only some of the facts connected to only this situation with Stolas, but there are other problematic behaviors and other reasons for him acting the way he does.

Fact # 1. The circus fire did happen, and Blitzø was the reason for it. Unintentional, and of course it wasn't his fault, but it still ruined the lives of many people—him included. Blitzø cannot act like it never occurred.

Fact # 2. Hell is divided by class and race. Their situationship with the grimoire was an embodiment of that inequality. A lot of Blitzø's outburst during the Full Moon and later in the Apology Tour was connected to it, to his beliefs that Stolas is the same as the rest of the privileged circle. Beliefs, I stress, justified by the real world. Stolas is more of an exception, and even then, his behavior is only different when it comes to Blitzø. He still acts the same toward other imps.

Fact # 3. We knew about Stolas's intentions all along, but before that fateful Full Moon, what Blitzø saw was Stolas avoiding him and not communicating the issue the Ozzie's date had raised. And before Ozzie's? Stolas did act entitled and inappropriate. He was baby-talking to Blitzø and used derogatory terms while addressing him. The dude literally called him an impish plaything in the Truth Seekers.

Fact # 4. Blitzø's heavily implied (though not officially confirmed by the show) existing conditions—ADHD*, BPD**, PTSD, and dyslexia/dyscalculia***—do affect his life, and while Hell seems to be somewhat receptive of neurodivergence, he still has to deal with it every single fucking day. He is going to be avoidant and afraid to be abandoned at the same time. He is going to hate himself. His learning disabilities are going to make his life harder. No way around it.

Note: *, **, and *** contain links to separate meta-analyses from @timkontheunsure and @tealvenetianmask about the respective conditions and how they show themselves in Blitzø's case.

And my beef with CBT here is exactly that. CBT's goal is to gaslight you into believing your distortions hold no water and suggests you just ignore them. And, as I've shown with Blitzø, these reactions and assumptions aren't baseless. They are legitimate, and, in fact, sometimes help to get by. Even though it's a crooked crutch, you can't learn to walk properly by just throwing that crutch away. You're still going to limp, and oh, will it be painful.

This is oversimplistic and dismissive. Anxiety and depression don't come out of the blue, and with mental disabilities, it's even deeper. The class/disability stigma is alive and strong, and just slapping a "you're fine" bandaid on your traumatized self isn't going to help.

Therapy # 2. Exposure therapy.

Exposure therapy is another approach commonly used while dealing with traumatic past and its aftermath—PTSD, anxiety, phobias, and such. Again, if you're not familiar, there's the link for you, but very shortly—the therapist puts the patient in a safe environment and 'exposes' them to the feared object in question for limited periods of time. The goal is to eventually get rid of the targeted fear and decrease avoidance.

And Blitzø has got some phobias for sure.

The fear of letting everyone down. Again.

And the fear of abandonment. Again.

All of it is a result of self-hatred, sitting so deeply it rules his life and his vision of how others perceive him. Said it himself. Almost.

So, where and how does the show expose Blitzø to his traumatic past?

First, the most recent, and the most obvious one—Rolando and his slideshow of all traumatic events Blitzø ever had in his life.

Second—Blitzø's drug trip in the Truth Seekers. While it does not contain the events of the past as they were, it does force him to face his fears.

Are you worried I might have enough of it one day as well? . . . You're going to die alone! . . . You're going to die alone, Blitzo!

With some stretch, the third one is Verosika's 'Blitzo sucks' party. Where Blitzø was forced to see the consequences of his avoidance and rejection.

Note: to be clear, I do think the party does not show the true extent of Blitzø's actions and how much he'd hurt people. It was exaggerated by Verosika, and here I explain why this is the case.

So, what gives? Or, rather, what gives it not?

It might sound funny now, considering I brought it up myself, but I, once again, say this is not therapeutic, just as CBT kind of 'talking.' If anything, all these three events did more harm than good.

The D.H.O.R.K.S.'s goal in the Truth Seekers was to torture the information out of Blitzø. He was not supposed to overcome it. He was supposed to crack.

The Verosika's goal was to ruin Blitzø's reputation. She was working her ass off to prove he's just a heartless freak.

The Rolando's goal was to fucking kill Blitzø.

And okay, their motivations had nothing to do with helping him, but maybe it did, in its own twisted way?

No. The writers added this to push Blitzø past the breaking point, not to heal him, and to show us more of his lore. Each time he was forced to face his past or fears or consequences, he was only spiraling more.

The only thing which did him some good was . . . well, Millie finally seeing his bravado mask falling off. But the cost of it was way too high. Not worth it.

To the therapy's defense, some points why it would never work in the way it was done in the show:

Blitzø had never given his consent and was not ready to face it. I might be very rude right now, but go and try producing some explosion-like sounds in front of war veterans without letting them know first and see what happens.

The amount of fearful experience exposed was way too overboard. He couldn't possibly digest it in a healthy way.

The environment was not safe. It was straight-up retraumatizing, an intentional one.

So there's that.

But what helped then?

We've briefly brushed over the fact Millie did talk to Blitzø. While I did imply this might be an example of CBT, here are some key deviations from the classic therapy which made all the difference.

Millie didn't sugarcoat all the shit Blitzø did. He was hurting their business. He didn't pay her. He was reduced to Bethanie. It showed her opinion can be trusted.

Millie apologized for not being there for him sooner. She admitted she relied too much on Blitzø being bulletproof, unbothered by everything. She admitted she didn't support him in a way he always did.

While proving she could never hate Blitzø, she used their common story, one he knows and can recall. She used evidence to prove him wrong, not a "it's all in your head" bandaid. And more than that, later she proved it with action—not for one second did she believe Rolando and his shittalk about what Blitzø supposedly was thinking about her. Her unwavering faith spoke more than any words ever could.

Getting back to exposure therapy . . . Metaphorically, she reminded Blitzø he can handle a beating or two. And physically beat the infestor demon out of him, which, as we can see later, didn't really affect Blitzø that much. He wasn't even battered. So, apparently, when the said exposure is done by someone who genuinely tries to make you feel better and knows your limits well, it might just work?

And finally, Millie acknowledged Blitzø's pain. She didn't brush it away. She validated him.

What all of this is about?

Like every treatment, too much of a medicine can become poisonous. So are CBT and exposure therapy.

They might help, and lots of research shows they do in certain cases. But there are limitations to what they can and cannot achieve, and they have to be adjusted to each individual story, to each trauma, and they should not be applied as a way to mend the outcome of the trauma without taking into account the story it comes with. Again, legitimate concerns and experiences cannot be brushed away or ignored.

Actualy . . . we've seen where it leads in the show too. In the beginning, Millie was quite dismissive of Blitzø's worries—all of this over a . . . breakup?

And here it comes full circle.

Only when Millie started taking Blitzø seriously, did it help them progress. And look how quickly we've switched from a complete despair to a glimmer of hope! Isn't that a beautiful closing scene?

As a closing note—we do not need to 'fix' Blitzø. After all this shit he went through, there won't be a day where he wakes up and be like, "Hey, I don't hate myself anymore! And look, I'm not afraid to be abandoned or misunderstood!"

I'm sorry to break it to you, but this is a lifelong battle. Being mentally whole, healthy, and constantly happy is no more than a myth, and everyone has their own demons and skeletons to deal with.

What Blitzø needs is some good support system to pull him back when he's down.

And boy, do I hope that one particular owl will fill in that role of unyielding pillar for Blitzø each time our lizard will fall into that pit again. Look, I love Millie, but there's only so much she can do. She can't be always present, she has her own life . . . and her own disaster of a husband to look after (affectionate <3). Here and here @lost-romantique talks about Stolas's capacity of loving, with me occasionally nodding, ha-ha. But to be short—it's fucking immense. And since he loves words, I do believe he has all the energy to tell again and again and again how awesome Blitzø is. Even if Blitzø wouldn't believe it himself.

[alekthefox]

I AM NOT OBSESSED, I DO NOT HAVE A PROBLEM, NUH-UH!

(Multiple sources used for these names, had to aim for aesthetic words y'know.)

Ratio got no answer to that. Instead Aventurine bowed and asked for his hand in perfect form.

"Care for a dance, dear doctor?"

"You're doing it wrong."

...

"After three months, that's the greeting you give me? Hah! Okay, what's the issue?"

"I am taller of us, it would be more practical that I lead. Flip your palm and ask again."

Aventurine looked up at him, still bowing, still reaching out. His eyes narrowed, head tilted, though the smile betrayed that he was amused.

"Will you say yes if I do~?"

"Do it properly and I'll give you my answer. On the other hand you could suffer forever not knowing," Veritas could name each color in those eyes, but never what they're trying to say with full certainty.

Wisteria,

"I can't tell if you're setting me up for humiliation..."

Mauve,

"You do that by yourself well enough."

Forgotten Violet,

"…but you drive a hard bargain."

Diamond.

[verstappentime]

more of daniel taking care of max when he has a migraine that i didn't post ❤️ if you're just joining us, max had a career-ending head injury and left f1. he and daniel are married but currently broken up!

(part 1/part 2)

“Stay,” Max says, rushed, before Charles can get anything else out.

“Okay,” Daniel says. He tries to clear the lump in his throat. He’s been waiting for Max to say that word, but this is as close as he’ll get, probably. “Tilt your head forward for me.” Max does; Daniel gingerly presses the ice where his head meets his neck.

Max hisses, reaching up to grab Daniel’s forearm. It’s been so long since Max initiated touch with him; Daniel forces himself not to jolt.

“I know, baby, I’m sorry.”

Max groans, gradually loosening his grip. “Can we do the bathtub thing?”

“The– Oh, yeah, sure. Charles, do you have a bath?”

“I feel like you are being the doctor and I am the nurse,” Charles says. He’s hovering closer than a second ago. “Yes, I do, is it for something weird?”

“Nurses are very important,” Max says. Daniel wonders if the meds are making him loopy already.

“It’s not for anything weird. Can you fill it up with hot water? As hot as it can get without burning.”

“Fine. But it’s for him.” It’s too dark for Daniel to see the look Charles is giving him. Just as well.

Daniel stays there, crouched beside Max, keeping the ice pressed to his neck. Max’s breaths are shallow, like he’s trying really hard not to wince, but he’s mostly failing. “The medicine is gonna help,” he says, just for something to say. In the dark, eyes closed, Max reaches around for his hand. Daniel links their fingers, squeezing hard. Max’s hand is clammy and he can’t get a good grip on Daniel, all weak and floppy. “Tell me what feels bad?”

Max turns his face into a couch cushion, making a tiny whining sound. “It’s– like, all the bad stuff. I scared Charles with the throwing up.” He’s talking more, which is a good sign.

“It’s fine,” Daniel says. “He called me and I’m here now, so it’s fine.” He presses his thumb against where Max’s jaw meets his cheek. He’s so tense everywhere.

Charles comes back into the room. “The water’s in the bath. I’m saying again to not do anything weird.”

“We are going to do something so weird,” says Max. He groans as he swivels his legs around to stand up, pressing on his forehead. “Ah, fuck. Shit.” He grabs Daniel’s wrist, squeezing hard.

“Take it easy,” Daniel says, clearing his throat where it’s all thick. He hates this, he hates that Max hurts, that he’s still hurting, and he— he loves, sort of, that it’s him Max is reaching out for. It’s fucking twisted.

Max doesn’t ask to be helped, so Daniel doesn’t offer, just hovers as Max slowly pushes himself to stand up. But Max is unwieldy, swaying a little, and— and he grabs for Daniel again. Maybe it’s just because Daniel’s seen it all before, because he’s fed him and bathed him and sat with him in the middle of the night, but. He’s still being chosen. “Sorry,” Max says, like Daniel would ever want him to do anything else. “My eyes are not so good.”

“It’s fine. I have you.” I always will, I always fucking will.

Charles waves them through to his master bathroom. In the light, Daniel can see that Max’s left pupil is blown. He’s sweaty and he looks like shit, hair all messed up, but he’s Max, and he’s gorgeous. Daniel wants to hold him.

“Max, yell for me if he is doing anything weird to you,” Charles says, and ducks out of the room. Conceding.

“You could have told him we’re not getting naked.”

“I mean, I am taking my pants off,” Max says. “Can I hold onto you?”

Daniel nods slowly, feeling oddly like he should look away. He watches the ceiling as Max holds onto him for balance.

If Max notices him acting weird, he doesn’t say so. “You’ll get your pants wet,” he says instead.

Oh. Daniel glances to the door, where Charles is not. This isn’t what he expected when he woke up today, he thinks, as he’s stepping out of his jeans.

They sit on the edge of the tub, Daniel pressing the ice pack to Max’s neck. It’s an easy trick; get the circulation down into his lower body and away from his head.

“Charles could do this,” Daniel says, after a moment.

“I know,” Max says. He leans his head on Daniel’s shoulder, closing his eyes. He doesn’t say it, but Daniel knows it: I wanted you. “Do you have somewhere to be?”

[feroshgirlsims]

Chapter 5.2 - Conspiracies of the Nether Regions

MIKO

“Alright, let’s talk about your stress levels. It’s a huge factor in situations like this,” Dr. Albaz says, “Are you getting enough sleep?”

“Yes,” Miko lies, “And I’m not stressed; I’m just busy, which is why I need more antibiotics.”

Dr. Albaz frowns and sticks a thermometer in Miko’s mouth. “You need to make sure you’re taking care of yourself so your immune system stays strong.”

“I am! I run three days a week.”

"Plus another four until you puke because you think it’s the only way to get rid of me," the voice adds helpfully.

“I do yoga," Miko continues.

"But you can’t get rid of me. And you did yoga once. For the love of magic, quit lying." 

“I also try to have vegetables with dinner.” 

The voice snorts: "Microwaved burritos are not vegetables."

“Shut up!” Miko hisses and then coughs to cover her outburst.

Dr. Albaz looks up from checking her pulse and appears even more concerned. "What did you say?"

For the first time, Miko worries that she might get into real trouble. Smoothing her expression, she keeps the rest of the conversation in her head.

"I need these antibiotics," she says to the voice, "And if you don’t shut up, this bitch isn’t gonna give us shit!"

"At least you’re acknowledging there’s an us," it sneers, "It’s about time."

Panicked, Miko digs her nails into her hand. "There isn’t supposed to be an us. Sims don’t talk to themselves."

"You’re not a sim," the voice laughs.

Miko’s blood runs cold.

“Is everything alright?” Dr. Albaz repeats. “You seem distracted, dear. You can talk to me about what’s going on.”

For a second, Miko wants to because maybe she’s losing her mind, and this woman can help. But the voice cuts her off. "Don’t say anything! I’ll be quiet."

“Actually, I am a little stressed out," Miko hedges, "I…uh…just broke up with my boyfriend.”

Dr. Albaz doesn’t look like she buys the explanation, but she still walks Miko to the prescription area and gives her half a dosage. “I still think it's more than likely you’re experiencing a mild rebound, and it’ll clear itself up if you can get some rest.”

“I am definitely going to slow down."

After several more assurances that she'll take her rest seriously, Miko limps out the door. But once she reaches the sidewalk, the ache in her bladder hits so hard that she drops to her knees. 

She closes her eyes, expecting pain as she hits the pavement, but it never happens.

“Miko?”

Her eyes flash open. Emmett kneels in front of her, his eyebrows drawn in with concern. “Look, I swear I’m not trying to insult you, but you look like you’re five seconds away from passing out.”

“I’m good,” she croaks, “I’m just…I’m…” The word ‘tired’ is on the tip of her tongue, but her pride won’t let her release it. 

Emmett shakes his head. “I know you don’t want help, but you need it. So I'm going to walk you to your dorm and you can add it to the list of things you hate about me when you’re done.”

"You don’t hate him," the voice insists.

Miko lets him help her up because the voice is right. She doesn’t hate him. 

Not even a little bit. 

PREV | NEXT

(Part 2 of 5)

[honorhearted]

"Does it hurt?"

Though an innocent and valid question, Benjamin nearly laughed. "In a way," he allowed, his voice growing husky as she traced the length of him with slow, careful skims of her fingertips. Drawing a sharp breath through his nose, he explained, "It's much more of an ache...a yearning that can never be sated without touch."

Closing his eyes, he groaned and arched when she closed her fist around him, pumping slowly. Sarah's lips parted for his kiss, and with their tongues glossing, Benjamin surged forward with a newfound desperation, his free hand knotting through her hair while the other toyed with her wetness.

His hips jerked on every downstroke, and he swallowed her moans with the increasing pressure of their kiss. She was delightful, maddening, and just as Benjamin moved to breach her with his fingers, Sarah jerked back and peered into his low-lashed eyes, breathing hard and still gripping his swollen cock.

"Can I see more? I want to touch everywhere."

Bemused, Benjamin swallowed. "More?" he asked, confused. In his opinion, what they were doing was nearly the pinnacle of all intimacy, and yet to his lust-addled mind, it soon became clear that she wished for more skin contact.

Claiming her mouth in another heated kiss, he softly assured her, "Yes...yes. Anything for you."

Withdrawing enough to unwind the cravat at his throat, Benjamin hastily started shedding his outer layers. He grew hot with impatience, and after he'd freed himself of his coat, stock tie and weskit, he ripped his shirt over his head in a blur of haste. His breeches remained low on his hips, and he reached for Sarah again, dragging her back into his arms before pinning her underneath his weight. "You may touch wherever you wish," he vowed. "Am I allowed to do the same?"

Dizzy with desire, he rolled his hips between her parted thighs and nudged against her open wetness, grinding down with the hopes of earning relief from the intense, throbbing ache inside his breeches.

She followed his lead, allowing him to guide her as she kept her eyes glued to his features the entire time. She didn't know what she looked like when he had touched her and out of sheer embarrassment she didn't really want to know. She could only assume it was abhorrent and scandalous, but she wanted to know what he looked like when she touched him.

"I do. I want to." She breathed, her heartbeat growing deafening in her own ears. Sarah wouldn't be surprised if he could hear the erratic rhythm raging beneath her bodice. She noticed the blush spread across his skin and the corner of her mouth quirked up in a satisfied smirk. He was devilishly handsome like this and she couldn't help but wonder how she compared to his past lovers.

She knew she probably wasn't the prettiest girl he'd taken to bed. She wasn't the smartest or wealthiest. And she wouldn't be the best, she knew that. Sarah wasn't foolish enough to think she had been born with the grace of Aphrodite, gifted with the ability to please a man without any experience. But she still wanted to be good at it. He was her first, so it would always mean something to her. But for him, this entire experience could become nothing more than another conquest to add to his list. And the thought of becoming nothing more than a chapter in his story hurt more than she cared to admit.

Gently, Sarah reached out and allowed her fingers to trace the length of his cock, surprised by the sheer hardness of it. "Does it hurt?" She asked, pulling back the fabric more to get a better look. She didn't know how to handle the situation properly and the last thing she wanted was to hurt him, but she wanted to touch him, to please him and make him moan like she had. Even if she had no idea where to start.

Taking a deep breath, she met his eyes again, struck speechless by the depth of his gaze. Was it wrong that she wanted him to look at her like this forever? That she wanted no other girl to be on the receiving end of such an intense stare?

It was selfish, but before she could spiral into self-loathing and guilt, he pulled her into a kiss and, reflexively, her fingers curled around his shaft. As he kissed her, she let her hand gently stroke him, allowing her body to take over with instinct, but she nearly froze when she felt his hands return to their spot between her legs. Sarah closed her eyes and let out a whimper, her brows furrowing together as a new wave of need flared through her.

As if breaking from a trance, Sarah looked him in the eye, hand still lightly grasping his cock and asked with utmost sincerity, "Can I see more? I want to touch everywhere."

[lovepollution]

“They’re like two trains running side by side. There’s a love there that’s equal to the love that they have for the work that they are pursuing.” - Luke Kirby

[naamahdarling]

You know what? You know what I think?

I think that if we lived as we were meant to, in larger intimate ("extended family") groups and with more shared labor and time to do it (UBI NOW) people like me would not feel so useless and burdensome because there would be people around to help and to do what neurodivergent people can't while making valuable space for the neurodivergent to do what they ARE good at.

The way we live right now, all right, the way we live right now forces units of two adults to be able to do EVERYTHING or PAY to have someone come do it for them. I have to do the housework. I have to do it! But I am having to do a million different things and most of them I am not good at. I suck at them.

I wouldn't feel like shit, okay, if I had more than one other person around who was not a child and who could do the things I can't, like do the yard and cook and do repairs and basic maintenance; and someone else to split everything else that I like but is too much for me. It would free me to do what I am good at and enjoy. Cleaning, as in the sink and toilet, the windows, the blinds. Taking out trash. Folding, hanging, and sorting laundry.

But because all the shit I can do often relies on other shit being done first, and I can't do or have trouble doing those things, the shit I can do often can't be done. And even the shit I can do, I can't do ALL of it. So I can't keep up, and things get very bad.

We aren't meant to live like this. We are not meant to live like this.

That thought hurts so much because being able to flee the birth family is integral to survival for so many people. I'm so afraid that living in larger family groups would create more opportunities for, say, queer kids to be isolated, rejected, bullied, and abused. But if we gave people enough money to survive, and stopped considering children the property of their parents with no system in place to help them escape bad situations except a system that is often just as bad, just different.

I'm aware that communes and collectives aren't all that successful and are kind of a joke. I don't mean that. I mean a fundamental shift to multigenerational families where taking in "strays" (which my family did) is also normalized so people escaping abuse into existing households was accepted, with these families centered in maybe a couple of different larger residences so not everyone has to buy and maintain their own fucking washing machine and vacuum cleaner, and so people can benefit from large group meals that yield leftovers, and so child and elder care can also be centralized.

Then disabled people and the neurodivergent and sick and injured people, and pregnant people, and grieving people, would not have to either labor through all those stressors or consign themselves to living off an unlivable pittance or being put under legal guardianship.

I'm not saying anything new. People live like this in other parts of the world and maybe it sucks and I am wrong. But I'm just really mad right now because I can either do laundry or clean the sink but not both, and I really think we could improve society somewhat by making it so I did not have to choose one without sacrificing the other.

[unhingedangstaddict]

I'll Hold Onto You While We Run Chap 16 Sneak Peak

Evan wasn’t exactly wrong about Tommy not being totally sure, but it was clear to Tommy that Evan was serious, he wanted to try and Tommy would be happy to give him the chance. “Evan,” Tommy cut him off. “As much as I would love to listen to you ramble all day- can I just just say let’s try it already?” Tommy asked, surprising himself a little with how blunt he was. He couldn’t help it though, he really did want to see where this might go.

“T- try? Like try dating?” Evan seemed to be in shock.

“No try out for the Olympics,” Tommy said sarcastically, trying to ease some of the tension, to make Evan less nervous. “Yes, like try dating. I think you’re adorable, and if you think you’re ready, then I say okay, let’s see what it’s like to be something.” He reached out and set his hand over Evan’s.

Evan smiled widely and put his other hand over Tommy’s.

Tommy smiled back.  “We’ll take things slow. You set the pace, and I’ll go along with it.” Tommy told Evan.

“I’m not usually good at slow.” Evan admitted quietly.

“We’ll figure it out together, okay?” Tommy gave Evan’s hand a gentle squeeze before pulling his hand away so they could continue eating.

Evan nodded in agreement. “Is there anything you need from me going into this?”

“What do you mean?” Tommy asked.

“Like, some people want lots of check-ins or reassurance, some people really like physical affection, some need dedicated time to themselves,” Evan rattled off.

Tommy nodded in understanding. “Nothing really comes to mind, but I can let you know if something pops up or changes.” He promised. “Is there anything you need?”

Evan looked down at his plate as his cheeks tinted pink. “I do really like physical affection.” Evan’s cheeks continued turning darker, getting more red now. “I’ve been told I’m touch starved.” He added nervously. “It doesn’t have to be anything crazy either, some people take that as like, a sexual thing which it’s not- not that I’m not interested in that stuff either, I am- when it’s the right time of course,” Evan rambled nervously. “It can be as simple as holding hands or sitting close enough that legs or shoulders touch, just knowing someone is there, ya know?”

Tommy smiled as he listened to Evan. “I get it, I don’t mind at all.” He chuckled. As adorable as the rambling was, he didn’t want Evan to feel nervous. “I’m happy to do whatever you need to feel comfortable and cared about, okay?”

“Okay.” Evan mumbled quietly, still not looking up at Tommy.

“Hey,” Tommy said softly.

Evan finally looked up at Tommy.

“It’s okay.” Tommy smiled softly at Evan.

Evan blushed as he nodded and smiled back at Tommy.

[caroandcats]

remember how the last time eddie touched a cursed object, the episode ended with him calling his abuela -in Texas- and asking her what the cards had to say about his future, with the focus of the camera turning on christopher ?

[princeof-flowers]

Thinking about Vincent having to hold Sephiroth for the first time, and it's because Sephiroth breaking down. And this is not child Sephiroth.

This is adult Sephiroth. Giant, 205cm/6'8-9 broad shouldered and chested Sephiroth.

It hurts.

[clarasghosts]

Clara Oswald 🤝 Armand deceptive control freaks (+ the old men with person-shaped holes in their memory)