#and how will therapy help it go away if therapists do not even understand what it is?

[bunnighost]

[darklordofthesimp]

Anything V (König x Reader)

The 5th instalment in the Anything-Verse

Main Masterlist 

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4

Like the characters? 

Sunshine Masterlist  || Saint Masterlist

Series Summary:  A lack of information from the chain of command results in König mistaking you for an enemy sniper.

A/N: Ya’ll are in for a treat with this series. I just figured out the plot like 10 minutes ago hahaha

Category: Angst || Hurt/Comfort || Unrequited Pining || Tension 

Warning: Graphic Language 

You glared at the woman before you, fury simmering beneath your skin. You felt like you were on fire, you felt like you could commit heinous crimes- you knew that you could kill them.

“I understand that you may feel like this isn’t needed,” the stupid fuck soothed. “But therapy is a proven solution. I can help get you back up and running.” 

Therapy. 

Your fingers dug into the armrests.

“They told me this was training.” You were chewing on the words, jaw tight and eyes narrowed. Deep down you’d known that this was coming, you’d declined ‘help’ after the initial incident but now there was no hiding the darkness that plagued your mind. Everyone had seen it. 

Everyone.

“This is training,” the doctor smiled. “Training of the mind.” 

You visibly cringed. They’d made sure to give you the most disarming person they could find. Kind eyes, an easy smile and a relaxed posture. They looked vulnerable. If the doctor was the most fragile in the room, then it would encourage you to step out and spill your trauma with tears and snot bubbles. Not you. 

You sneered, leaning forward to rest your arms on your knees. “Being chosen to be my therapist is a shit go, Doc.” 

“Actually,” the corner of their lips curled upward. “This’ll piss you off more but I’m doing a friend a favour.” 

You blinked, surprise snatching the next crude words from your tongue. The doctor leaned back into their chair, clicking the pen a couple of times as if emphasising a point. As you stared at them, they stared back, and you suddenly realised that maybe they weren’t as vulnerable as they seemed. 

“Laswell?” You queried. 

The therapist snorted softly. “Price.” 

Your spine straightened, a deep sense of anger twisting violently within your chest. 

Price. 

“Ooh,” the doctor tutted softly, leaning forward in their seat. “Didn’t like that one, did you?” 

You sneered at them, your eyes narrowed and your walls higher than ever. What did they know about what you liked and disliked? What did they know of your relationship with Price? 

“I don’t want to talk about him,” you snapped, crossing your arms over your chest.

“If you had it your way, you wouldn’t talk at all,” the doctor frowned. 

“Then take the fucking hint.” 

Their gaze trailed over your body, taking in the way you leaned away from the conversation. You were an open book and no matter how aggressive the mask you wore was- you were readable. With a huff, the therapist tossed their notebook over their shoulder lazily. It clattered onto the bench behind them, scattering the miscellaneous items in its path. 

“Alright, Birdy. Let’s go off the record then,” they gave you a smile that didn’t quite reach their eyes. “You’re shitty with Price.” 

“I said I didn’t want to talk about him-” 

“You feel like he’s betrayed you.” 

You blinked, fingers trembling even though they were curled into fists. The overarching thought that had been plaguing you for weeks was picked apart by some random fucking doctor. The words were out, you weren’t the one that had said them but they were in the air anyway. It felt good to hear them aloud rather than the screaming thought over and over in the recesses of your mind. 

“Yes.” The confirmation was bitter on your tongue. You waited for the doctor to shut you down, you waited for them to monologue about how your feelings were childish and unprofessional. They were providing you this service as a favour to the Captain, you could only assume that they were friends. 

Instead, the therapist simply nodded. “I would too, Birdy.” 

You loosed a breath that you hadn’t realised you were holding. 

“What was your name again, Doc?” You rasped, eyes narrowing. They shifted in their seat, taken off guard by the sudden change in subject but willing to share nonetheless. 

The doctor shot you a smile- genuine this time.  

“They call me Saint.” 

____

While you didn’t appreciate being ambushed with it, therapy hadn’t been as bad as you’d imagined. Your fingers clenched and unclenched in an attempt to release some tension as you walked.

Every day, you were required to present to the doctors office for a psych appointment. 

Every day, Saint had picked your thoughts apart bit by bit. 

Although you hadn’t intended to talk, you realized quickly that Saint didn’t just look disarming- they were disarming. There was no judgement as you spoke, not when you told them about your murderous nightmares and not when you told them that you’d wanted to beat down the new sniper. 

They only nodded, explaining that it- surprisingly- was natural to feel like that after what you’d experienced. 

You felt validated. 

Less like a liability and more like a recovering victim. 

Your thoughts stuttered to a halt as you laid eyes on the kitchen, the light spilling from the open doorway and out into the hall. You raised a brow at the sight, knowing that only one person would really be awake at this time of night. 

Ghost. 

The flutter in your chest caught you off guard, the thought of seeing Simon had you excited. It’d been a while since you’d both last spoken, a hand on the shoulder as he muttered a “see you soon,” and a “be safe.” All that, right before he boarded a plane with Sunshine in tow. 

“Yeah,” the newest sniper had winked at you with a curved smile. “See you real soon, gorgeous.” 

You hated them, you were sure of it. They were nauseatingly glib, each word rolling off their silver tongue with all the ease but no truth. You couldn’t believe anything they said, you’d be stupid if you did. 

As you approached the kitchen slowly, you heard hushed voices. They were arguing- aggressive and quickly spoken. 

“Is this how it’s going to be?” Sunshine snapped, their words breathless. “For the rest of our time here, this is how you want it to be?” 

From what you’d seen, the new sniper had a reputation for being self-posessed and controlled. They wanted to watch you unravel beneath their sentences, but in order for them to do that they’d have to be unphased by whatever’s thrown at them. 

Right now, there was no sign of that person. 

“What “I want it to be” is you doing your fucking job and me doing mine." The hostility in Simon's tone had you taken aback. You’d never heard him so aggressive towards a teammate and for a split moment, you felt bad for Sunshine. 

“It was!” The sniper shouted, their exhaustion and frustration painstakingly clear. 

“You were reckless.” 

“I was saving you!” 

“I don’t need you to save me!” Ghost finally snapped. The sound of something clattering followed by Sunshine’s sharp breath had you tense. “I don’t need anything from you.” 

There was a soft touch against your shoulder and your heart stuttered in your chest. Fear electrified your body as you spun around. A hand pressed down firmly against your lips, suffocating the scream rising from your throat. 

König’s eyes were narrowed, his head ducked so that he could meet your gaze head on. The look he gave you was accusatory and shame quickly flooded your cheeks. Your fingers came to rest shakily against his wrist, pushing weakly against his hold. 

His brows pulled into a frown. 

“Are you asking me to just let you fucking die?” Sunshine rasped, their seething voice reminding you of where you were. König’s eyes drifted from yours to over your shoulder aimlessly as he listened to their conversation. 

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Ghost drawled. You could hear him struggling for control, the way he drew each breath like it was painful. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you people?” The sniper exclaimed. “If it was Birdy instead of me today you wouldn’t have an issue with it-” 

“But you’re not Birdy,” Ghost snapped, “are you?” 

Silence flooded the space between you all. 

You felt ashamed of yourself. You were somewhere you shouldn’t have been, you were listening to a conversation that you were never intended to hear. This was something personal, the hatred and electricity between Sunshine and Ghost forbidden for your understanding. 

König must have come to the same conclusion. The man shot you a hard stare, his hands falling from your lips to grip your shoulders. He guided you backward quietly, trying to provide an escape that wouldn’t alert them to your presence. 

“No, Sir,” Sunshine’s voice was faint now as you pulled away from the two. “I’m not Birdy.” 

You knew then that something had changed. It was in their voice, it was in the air, it was in the venom of their words- it was a suffocating emotion that you knew too well. 

They were hurt. 

But, hurt breeds bitterness and there was nothing but hatred in Sunshine’s final words. 

I’m not Birdy. 

König sucked in a breath and you knew that he’d heard it as well. When he finally managed to pull you both through the doors of your dormitory unscathed, he let you go. There was no gentleness in his expression this time when he appraised you. 

“What were you thinking?” He growled, running rough fingers through his hair. “That was wrong.” 

“I know,” you whispered, shaken. 

“You shouldn’t have been there,” König continued with a large step away from your quivering body. He was riled up and his anger stimulated your own. Who was he to lecture you? 

“You shouldn’t have been there either,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest. 

König shot you a stern look. “I wouldn’t have stayed if I didn’t find you eavesdropping, naseweis.” 

You rolled your eyes, turning on your heel. While you weren’t falling apart at the sight of him anymore, it didn’t mean that you wanted to be around him. You still wanted nothing to do with König, no interaction, no contact- nothing.

“I don’t need you, of all people, lecturing me on being in the wrong place at the wrong time,” you threw over your shoulder as you walked. There was a huff from the man behind you, then the fall of his footsteps following in suit. 

“Doesn’t the incident make me an expert on that?” König questioned from beside you, keeping pace as though it were a leisurely stroll. You glared up at him, forcing the growing rage clawing at your chest to stay caged. 

“You think it’s funny?” You hissed. “Am I a fucking joke to you?” 

“Of course not!” König’s voice hardened. You both rounded the corner towards your room, it felt like the quicker you moved the easier it was for him to keep up. Another infuriating feature that the Austrian possessed, you’d add it to the already mile-long list. 

“Then why can’t you just leave me alone?” You spun on your heel, facing the beast head on. “It’s like you’re everywhere, König. I can’t escape you, I enter a room and you’re there. I turn a corner, you’re there. I go to sleep and there you fucking are.” 

König raised a brow, leaning his shoulder against the frame beside him. “I’m not stalking you, Birdy. If that’s what you’re trying to imply.” 

“Is that why you’re standing in my bedroom doorway?”

The man’s spine straightened as he took up his own weight, emerald gaze pinning you to your place. It was as though he were surprised, as though he was just now realising that he had been following you. Your chest was heaving as you glared up at him. You wanted him to deny it, to tell you that you were imagining it all- you wanted to be angry. 

“You’re a worrying person,” König finally said. The words almost sounded like an admission, although of what you were unsure. You jaw tightened as you retreated another step back into the safety of your room. 

“No,” you corrected, “you’re a worrying person.” 

König sighed, letting the silence fall in between you for a beat. There was conflict across his expression before finally his eyes narrowed. He stepped into the room. 

Your heart leapt into your throat. 

“Do you think I want to hurt you?” 

There it was. 

It was the question that plagued you as you lay in bed every night, staring at your bedroom door. Or lack thereof, you should say. There was nothing on the hinges, not since König had kicked it down. 

He’d thought you were in danger. You lay before him, unconscious and dreaming. He could have done anything, he could have finished the job. 

But he didn’t. 

König’s head tilted as he observed you, watching you struggle for an answer. His fingers lightly brushed against your forearm and you froze, eyes wide as you stared up at him. He was so tall, dominating every space he entered. He was a giant amongst men, a god. 

“Do you think I want to hurt you, Birdy?” König said again. He didn’t lean down, didn’t drop down to your height this time. He wanted your answer, he wanted you to look at him and take him as he was- he wanted the truth. 

“No,” you whispered. 

The truth. 

Your body trembled as though the room had dropped to subzero temperatures but your skin was on fire. Heat bloomed across your chest, racing the length of your spine, neck and cheeks.

König’s eyes softened and he swayed backward lazily, as though he were drunk fighting for his balance. Neither of you said anything for a long moment. He didn’t ask why you were still afraid, he knew that was an unfair question. He never expected you to be comfortable with his presence. 

But the shift between you both was tangible. 

“Am I right?” The words tumbled from your lips before you could stop them, desperate and vulnerable. An offering, an olive branch an extension of trust. 

 Something washed over the man before you, something you’d never seen before. His gaze was ferocious, jade fire burning beneath those lashes as it scorched your skin. Determination tightened his jaw and his thumb brushed across the skin of your arm like a promise. 

An unspoken response. 

Yes. 

Your breath left your chest as you took another step away, suffocating in his presence. König inhaled heavily, his hands falling back to rest at his sides. 

“I still-” You began, twisting your fingers anxiously. 

“I know.” 

You still hadn’t forgiven him. 

There was a long way to go, but now the path had changed. Rather than there being a straight road, shrouded in hatred, there was a fork. A split in the path that required a decision, one that you weren’t quite ready to make yet. 

König cleared his throat, softening his stance with conscious effort. It was as if he remembered that he was meant to be disarming. Watching the huge man try to shrink himself for your comfort was surreal, nothing like what you’d imagined when you’d first laid eyes on him after your recovery. 

Ghost had never made himself smaller for you when you came out of hospital. He was slower, gentler, as though dealing with a frightened animal- but he never pretended to be something that he was not. 

“Do you think they heard us?” You changed the topic as your mind fell back to Ghost and Sunshine. “How would we explain that?” 

König blinked, clearly glad for the break in intensity. He shifted backward, moving to make his escape as your interaction came to a close. For once, he was the one running from you.

“Wrong place, wrong time,” he muttered, an ironic smile playing at his lips. “They won’t have a hard time believing that given our history.” 

 The man offered you a nod, fingers tapping against the door with finality- his own farewell. You were glad that he hadn’t said ‘goodnight’, that he hadn’t bothered with niceties. You were not friends. Not allies. 

You weren’t sure what you were. 

When he disappeared around the door, his footsteps retreating down the hall, you finally let yourself relax. Jitters skittered across your body, the remnants of electricity from your confrontation buzzing beneath your skin. 

Wrong place, wrong time. 

The words struck a chord of discomfort within you. 

They followed you through your night routine, plaguing you in the shower, lingering as you made a cup of tea, whispering sickness as you laid in bed. They made you nauseous, they made you dizzy, they were disconcerting. 

Wrong place, wrong time. 

The whole accident had been such a tragic coincidence, a monumental mistake. Almost impossible in an environment where communication is key, everything working in perfect tandem to ensure your demise. 

Throughout the length of your military career, you’d always been taught to never take anything as chance. If a bush rustled beside you, there was a possibility that it was an animal- but also that it could be an enemy. If there was a light beneath a door, it could have been left on or there was someone waiting for you on the other side. You were taught not to trust coincidence. 

The failure of comms, the false intel of a sniper on a roof, the unexpected of KorTac, the largest soldier of their team being sent to find you- all of it was a perfectly timed but tragic coincidence. 

You tossed in your bed, trying to drown the thoughts from your crumbling mind. It seems you didn’t need a nightmare tonight to bring on terror. Your resolve began to slip, the sudden sense of dread gripping you by the throat. 

Wrong place, wrong time. 

You wanted to rake the thoughts from your brain with your bare fingers. You wanted to rip out the connection you’d made and go to sleep in bliss ignorance.

Wrong place, wrong time. 

The way König had brought it up, the way he’d said it, maybe he was feeling it too. Maybe you weren’t as insane as you felt. Maybe your thoughts weren’t as unreliable as they seemed. You clenched your jaw, nails digging into the skin of your palm hoping that the pain would pull you back from the edge you teetered on. 

Wrong place, wrong time. 

Wrong for both you and König … but, as you lay staring at your missing door, you couldn’t shake the thought that maybe it was all just right for somebody else.

[autball]

Part 5 of a 5 part series about the ways harmful practices are being made to sound more appealing and how to spot the differences between helpful and harmful approaches.

Communication support is a desperately needed thing for so many autistic people and their families. So unlike some of the other things I’ve posted about this week, this is 100% a worthy goal. Unfortunately, many places that claim they can offer it are not delivering. 

In some cases, they simply don’t have the education to properly support communication needs (I’m looking at you, ABA). Other times they do have the proper education (ie Speech Language Pathologists) but they will gatekeep certain methods of communication, either because they believe harmful myths about them or they haven’t been trained in that particular method. Also, not every SLP knows about Gestalt Language Processing, so even an otherwise great therapist could be missing some information.

So here are some questions to ask when trying to figure out if someone is truly capable of offering well-rounded, neuro-affirming communication support:

Are they more concerned with making the client easier to deal with for others, or are they focused on the client’s rights, needs, and wishes? (We’re looking for the second one.)

Do they address the client directly, or do they speak as if the client isn’t even in the room? (We’re looking for the first one.)

Do they see speech and language as a behavioral thing? (Verbal Behavior and PECS are dead giveaways - and we want a NO.) 

Do they understand that an inability to produce speech has no bearing on a person’s ability to think and feel? (YES✅)

Do they only push for speech, see speech as the end goal, or value speech above all other methods of communication? (NO✅)

Do they honor things like echolalia, pointing to objects, and bringing an adult over to something they want as valid communication? (YES✅)

Do they honor things like refusal to participate, crying, and meltdowns as valid communication? (YES✅)

Do they believe that things like pacifiers, AAC, or responding to “non-functional communication” discourages speech/“functional” communication? (NO✅)

Do they know about Gestalt Language Processing and believe it is a thing? (YES✅)

Do they require “pre-requisites” before they will try alternative communication methods? (NO✅)

Do they require the client to earn time on their AAC device or remove the device when they deem it a distraction, essentially taking away their voice? (NO✅)

Do they know who to send you to if they aren’t personally trained in an approach they think would be more helpful? (YES✅)

Obviously, trying to find someone local to you with all the green flags and no red ones is kind of like trying to find a unicorn for most people. But if you have a choice between two or more therapists, you can at least go with the one who has more right answers and be ready to advocate/educate when needed. 

If you literally have only one option available to you and it’s not a good one, you can either be ready to advocate at every turn or just choose not to use their services. Yeah, that’s allowed! Not every autistic person needs speech therapy, and not all communication support has to be directly administered by a professional. You as the parent or caregiver will play a huge role in supporting your person with their communication needs, and luckily there are online resources and virtual trainings that can help you do that.

P.S. What’s the difference between PECS and picture cards, you ask? PECS is a whole ABA-based program that uses a limited set of picture cards and should be avoided for several reasons. Meanwhile, plain old picture cards are something that can be made and used by anyone without any specific program.

P.P.S. Zero debates about the legitimacy of Spelling to Communicate (S2C) or Rapid Prompting Method (RPM) will be entertained (translation - it will be deleted so don’t waste your time).

[bratphilia]

exposure (w. afton x reader)

note: as promised, it's here. also fun fact i have ocd and exposure therapy is one way used in my treatment. so i turned it into porn. enjoy! i will most definitely write a second chapter

pairing: steve raglan / william afton x reader

tags: corrupt therapist!william, innocent virgin!reader, manipulation, oral sex (f receiving)

your thoughts are interrupted as you hear a voice call your name. "hi," your therapist says, smiling kindly at you.

"hi steve." you return the smile and follow him to his office.

he opens the door for you and closes it behind him. you take a seat on the couch while he situates himself in the chair across from you. "so tell me, how are you doing? how are the meds working out?" 

"well, um," you start apprehensively. "that's kinda why i'm here to see you so soon. it's been a month and i don't think they're working."

steve gives you a faux look of concern, as if to say "oh no" and clicks his tongue. of course the meds aren't working. he handed you a low dosage of tylenol, a pain medicine, in an orange bottle without a label. any smart person would've found that suspicious — even more suspicious considering the fact that he's a therapist, not a psychiatrist. 

there's nothing wrong with you, either. you're just an innocent — rather dumb, in his opinion — girl with repressed sexual thoughts. thoughts he's been working his way up to helping you through them. 

"and the ache in your stomach is still there?" steve asks, just to make sure. 

you mumble an "mhm" embarrassed to look at him. he bites back a grin. "well, i have an idea."

you perk up at that. "ever heard of exposure therapy?" you shake your head 'no.' "it's a kind of therapeutic exercise that stresses the importance of facing the things that are giving you anxiety."

you stare at him blankly. of course you don't understand what he's saying. you're his dumb little girl, after all. 

"tell me, what are the symptoms you're having?" he asks. he wants you to say it — say that the root of your problems stem from overwhelming horniness, just as you've danced around saying in every session you've had with him.

you look down at your shoes. "well, uhm, there's this... tingle in my stomach. and the thoughts i'm having are... concerning to me. it's like i'm obsessed with..." 

you trail off and he raises an eyebrow. "...i guess what i'm trying to say is... i'm having really dirty thoughts. sometimes... they're about you.. or some men i see staring at me." 

steve tries his hardest to keep up the facade of a concerned therapist, but he can't deny how your words are going straight to his dick. "i see." 

"can you help me, steve?" you look at him with the most innocent, doe eyes he's ever seen. 

he cocks his head and smiles at you. "of course i can." he refrains from calling you 'sweet girl' — too unprofessional.

steve takes his spot on the couch next to you. he helps you situate your self so that you're leaning back. "can you spread your legs for me? you might want to take off your shoes for the sake of your own comfort."

your brows furrow and you do what he says hesitantly. you're wearing a cute, pastel blue sundress. when you bring your knees to your chest, spread just like he asked, he reaches to fold your dress over and reveals your white cotton panties. he could come in his pants from the sight alone.

you make a resistant noise when he reaches for your panties. "no one's ever touched me there..."

he already knows that. he can tell. but still, something about being the first one to break open that sweet cunt of yours fills him with even more desire. "i'll be gentle, okay?" he promises.

you nod your head and allow him to slide your panties down your legs, leaving them stretched near the bottom of your calves purposefully. it provides as a small restraint to you in case you squirm away from his touch. just as he expected, your pussy is red, swollen, and shiny with your slick. poor thing, he thinks.

steve brings a hand to run up and down your cunt, wanting to collect the slick gathered there. you moan and he feels you shiver. "th-that feels funny..."

"yeah?" he says before thumbing your clit. you let out a high pitched whine. his eyes move towards your face, fascinated with the way your eyes are fluttering.

"does that feel good?" he inquires, earning a "mhm" from you.

he picks up the tempo, rubbing the sensitive nub in circles with the rough pad of his thumb. you try to buck against his hand he brings his free arm to sling over your waist, halting your movements. "this won't work if you're moving like that. just let it happen, okay?"

"okay..." you murmur. it's easier said than done.

he stops rubbing at you. he has an even better idea. he leans down on his knees and kisses the spot his finger was just on. you let out a shocked "ah!" much to his dismay.

"gonna have to keep quiet or i'll stop," he says sternly. you promptly bring a hand to cover your mouth.

steve licks long, slow stripes up your cunt, flattening his tongue to cover as much as he can, gaging your reaction. your legs squirm but you can't move them much from the restraint the placement of your panties provide. he takes your bud into his mouth and suck at your clit, humming a little and shaking his head. you squeal against your palm and he pulls away, slapping your cunt.

"i told you to fucking stay quiet! you'll get us both in trouble," he scolds. it's a side of him you've never seen before. usually he's just so sweet to you. however, despite that, his tone sends a tingle in your tummy. you nod in obedience and allow him to continue.

he sticks his tongue inside you and it takes everything within you not to scream. he knows what he's doing too. the best part for him is watching you struggle. you wriggle around, desperately grasping at the firm fabric of the couch. he pulls his tongue out and kisses your clit once more.

"s-steve, i feel.. weird," you tell him, moving your hand for a moment.

"'s okay, just let it go. you'll feel better," he promises gently. his mouth encloses around your clit again and he slurps, flicking it rapidly with his tongue.

"ah, ah." you throw your head back and do what he says: release.

"mmm," he hums, lapping up what you give him.

"that was nice," you say once you catch your breath. "i really liked that. what kind of therapy is that called again?'

"exposure therapy," he lies. "how are the thoughts? are they still there?'

"no," you say in astonishment as you notice. "it's like my mind is all foggy right now? will it stay like that?"

"temporarily, we'll have to explore this some more at your next appointment. i'll make sure to bring something you can take home with you whenever those thoughts are disturbing you, alright?"

"alright."

next appointment. your heart soars. and the thoughts are back once more.

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

Hi sex witch! This is kinda a scary ask to send but you’ve always seemed kind to other people asking scary questions so I feel brave enough to ask. So I’m a person with what I would say a fairly healthy and positive attitude abt sex- big fan of jacking off when the mood strikes and I’ve had a few partners. However, something that is really upsetting and scary to me are sex dreams because a lot of times I have dreams abt having sex with ppl I shouldn’t be having sex with and DONT WANT to be having sex with- notably, my father and my brother. I have strange dreams normally- anxiety related usually- but I HATE waking up from these dreams, I feel so sick and ashamed. I’m not even generally attracted to men, and these dreams make me feel like I need to second guess my identity. Additionally, my father is dead so I wake up feeling like my brain has disrespected his memory.

I’m trying to get a therapist for other unrelated reasons but a) my insurance is terrible and I’m having trouble finding someone in network and b) I would be so scared to say these things to a therapist - what if I’m secretly much more mentally ill than I knew, what if they hospitalize me, what if they put me on a sex offender registry?

Beyond “go to therapy” is there any advice you can offer me? It’s really very distressing and I’m really sick of it.

hi anon,

let's take a BIG DEEP BREATH before we start, okay?

so, first and foremost let me just say this, because it's important: nobody is going to hospitalize you or put you on a registry for something happening in your dreams. your dreams are not necessarily a reflection of anything you want or would enjoy in real life; your dreams are a pile of goo your brain spits out while its sifting information around trying to make a bunch of pieces fit together. unfortunately, I worry that you amount of stress and anxiety you feel about these dreams may be keeping them so front and center in your mind that makes them keep coming up over and over when you're asleep, creating a vicious cycle.

listen, I can't tell you how to change or feel better about your dreams. but I can tell you that people having sexual dreams that are in no way indicative of their actual desires is INCREDIBLY COMMON. none of those people are a danger to themselves or anyone else because of something their subconscious does that's entirely beyond their control, and that includes you.

having said that, it's totally understandable that you find these dreams disturbing and upsetting. for the time being, while you're managing them on your own, try to get yourself to a calm place while you're getting ready for bed - whatever works for you, whether it's mindfulness, melatonin, exercise, tea, warm bath and candles, taking time away from your phone, etc - and preparing space to be gentle with yourself and get into a good headspace when you wake up by making an extra nice breakfast, taking a long shower, going for a long walk, or anything else that will help you get out of your head and take care of yourself in the aftermath of an upsetting dream.

and if you do manage to find a reliable therapist soon, which I hope you do, I would strongly encourage you to bring this up with them if the problem is still persisting by then. anything causing you anxiety and distress is something that is worth talking over with a therapist, especially since leaving one stress factor unaddressed can also hold you back from resolving others - it's hard to focus on anything when restful sleep is off the table. once you've established a good rapport with a therapist, some conversations around this could be super helpful for you.

wishing you the best with finding some peace of mind xoxo

[cosyvelvetorchid]

buck/tommy: single dad tommy looses his son who wanders off after a fire engine. firefigher buck to the rescue

This was such a freaking adorable prompt! Thank you!

As always you can send me bucktommy, saltommy, or Tommy prompts to my ask. Fluff or smut or both. 🩶

*****

"Lucas can you please put your shoes on?" Tommy called out from the kitchen. He could still hear the cartoon blaring from the living room. More than once he'd imagined what harm he'd like to cause the person who invented Bluey. He finished packing their lunches, shoving them into his bag, and grabbed his phone and car keys before walking into the living room and turning off the TV. Lucas whined.

"You have 5 seconds to put your shoes on or you won't be riding the engine." He told him sternly. "5..4.." The 4 year old knew daddy meant business and quickly ran to the door and put on his shoes. "Good boy." Tommy smiled and lead him out to the car.

He was taking him to the annual community fire safety event they held down town. There were lots of exciting things for kids to do - rides, entertainers, and of course a chance to sit in a real engine! Usually Tommy would be working it but this year he had actually managed to get the day off to take his son.

Lucas had been buzzing with excitement about it since Tommy had first told him about it last week. He was counting down the sleeps like he did at Christmas. It had been the first thing he'd gotten excited about since his mom had died the previous year.

He was only 3 when she died and he didn't really understand what death meant, just that mommy was in heaven with the angels. But he certainly felt the loss of his mother. His personality was diluted. Tommy had taken him to a therapist specialising in grief therapy for children, and slowly but surely he began coming out of his shell more.

Evangelina and Tommy had been best friends since they were teenagers. The type of friendship where even when they lost contact for months or even years because of all the things they each had going on in their lives, when they reconnected it felt like no time had gone by.

5 years ago she had asked Tommy to help her get pregnant. She was desperate to be a mother but she was single and time was running out. They had many, many conversations about how it would work, how they would co-parent.. if Tommy even wanted to. They decided that if she were to get pregnant, when the kid was older they'd tell them about how they came to be, but until that point he would be Uncle Tommy.

As it happened, one trip the the fertility clinic, 1 donation and 1 insemination and Evangelina had a bun in the oven. The first few months of her pregnancy went like clockwork. Until the 2nd trimester when she found a lump in her breast. Cancer. Stage 3. She was given 2 options. Terminate the pregnancy and begin treatment, or delay treatment until the baby was born, which would risk the cancer spreading. She chose the latter. After many arguments with Tommy about it, he finally accepted that this was what she wanted.

Watching his son being born was the most beautiful thing Tommy had ever witnessed. He didn't think a human heart had the capacity for that much love. Sadly, within days of Lucas' birth they received the devastating news that Evangelinas cancer had spread to her lymph nodes and other organs. It was terminal. She fought like hell to live, but a month after Lucas' 3rd birthday she passed away.

"Come on, little man. Let's go see some fire trucks!" Tommy let him out of the car, taking his hand.

"Daddy look!" He pointed to a a giant Bluey mascot dressed in turn out gear. Tommy cursed under his breath. He couldn't get away from that little blue shit. "Can we go see him?" Lucas asked.

"Of course, buddy." He said with a smile leading him over. As much as Tommy couldn't stand that damn dog, the smile on his sons face was worth it. After that they rode the teacups, Lucas met some real life firefighters (that weren't his dad), he got to sit in an ambulance and blare the sirens, and he got given so many free stickers Tommy was already imagining having to remove them from the furniture at home.

There was one more thing to do and that was to sit in an engine. Except, what Lucas didn't know was that Tommy had organised with Capt Nash of the 118 a surprise ride in the truck. But first lunch needed to be eaten. A hangry 4 year old was not what anybody needed to deal with on a Sunday afternoon.

They found a picnic table and Tommy handed Lucas his sandwiches and chips. But in the rush trying to Lucas out of the door he'd forgotten the drinks.

"Shi-shoot!" He corrected himself. Trying to police his swearing wasn't easy now that Lucas was of an age where he repeated everything he heard. Thankfully there was a booth in the picnic area that served drinks.

"Lucas, I'm going to get us something to drink. I need you to stay right here, okay? I'll just be over there-" He pointed to the booth no more than 7 or 8 meters away "-you can see me the whole time."

"Okay." Lucas sang.

"You stay here, okay? You must not get off this bench. Do you understand?"

"Yep." He replied, peanut butter and jam smeared all around his mouth. Tommy walked to the booth, looking back every few seconds to make sure Lucas was where he should be. The lady in front of him in the line dropped her purse, spilling it everywhere. It only took Tommy 10 seconds to help her pick everything up but by the time he stood back up and looked to Lucas he was gone.

His heart immediately thunder against his chest.

"Lucas?!" He called out running over to the table. "Lucas!" He looked around. He was nowhere to be seen. Panic began to set in. He took a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself. This had happened before in a grocery store a few months before and after Tommy spent 15 minutes freaking out, multiple calls over the annoy and a call to the police, Lucas was found at the other end of the store watching Bluey on one of the TVs.

There were tonnes of things at this event that a child would gravitate towards. He probably made a beeline for the Bluey mascot or an engine. No, Tommy wasn't going to freak out yet. He'd look for a few minutes first then get security.

***

"Buck have you given away ALL the candy?" Eddie asked.

"What? They're all just so adorable I couldn't say no!" Buck tried defending himself.

"You're such a push over." Eddie told him. "I'm gonna go get a coffee. I'll be back in 5." Buck waved him away as he bent down to the 4 year old standing in front of him.

"Hi" He said with a big smile. "Whats you're name?"

"Umm.. I'm not s'posed to say. You're a..a stranger."

"Thats good thinking. You're absolutely right." Buck looked around but there were no other adults in the vicinity that looked like they could be this kids parents. "Hey Buddy, are you parents here?"

"My daddy brought me to see the firetrucks." The kid told him.

"Well that's a cool dad you have, huh? Hey do you known where he is? Can you see him?" The boy looked around and lifted his hands up in an exaggerated shrug.

"Okay. Well you see this?" He pointed to the radio on his chest. "This is my very special radio. I can talk to some very cool people and maybe they can find your dad. How does that sound?"

"Okay." The boy said.

"Do you think it would be okay if you told me your name? That way I can tell my friend on the radio and it will help us find your dad." Buck asked. The boy thought about it for a second.

"My name is Lucas."

"It's nice to meet you Lucas. My name is Buck. You wanna sit in the truck while I radio my friend?"

"Yeah!" He said excitedly. Buck opened the door and lifted him up onto the seat, before getting on the radio. "Hey Cap?"

"Captain Nash here. What is is Buck?"

"I gotta kid here that seems to be lost."

"Im with Sergeant Grant now. Can you describe the kid?"

"How old are you buddy?" He asked Lucas.

"Im 4"

"He says he's 4 years old, names Lucas. Dark curly hair, wearing blue jeans and a black tshirt with a helicopter on it." He spoke into the radio.

"This is sergeant Grant. We have the father here. Where is the boy now?"

"I've got him in the engine."

"Keep him there, we're on the way."

"Good news, your dad's on the way." He told Lucas.

"My daddy is a fireman too." He said

"He is?"

"Yeah. He.. he flies helicopters too!" He said pointing to the picture on his shirt.

"Wow that is very cool!" Buck said. "You wanna put the lights and sirens on?"

"Yeah!"

"First things first, before we go to an emergency we have to be safe. So.." he grabbed a helmet from the back and gently placed in on Lucas' head. "There we go, now you're ready. See that button right there? Press it." Lucas leaned forward and pressed it and the sirens rang out.

"Woah!" Lucas cried out with a big smile. Buck smiled back, his heart melting at how adorable this kid was.

"Daddy!" He shouted pointing through the windscreen. Cap and Athena walked towards the engine with an unfamiliar man. Something shifted in Bucks stomach at the sight of him. He was tall, with a large muscular frame. A piece of his dark curly hair had fallen onto his face. Buck suddenly felt nervous. Buck switched off the siren.

"Lucas?" The man called as they reached the engine.

"Daddy! I got to put on the siren!" He said as Buck removed the helmet from him and lifted him down. The man bent down to his eyeline.

"Lucas, how many times have I told you, you cannot wall off like that? It really scares daddy when you do that." His voice was soft but strained. He hugged the boy tightly. Bucks chest tightened at the image in front of him of a scared father.

"Im sorry daddy."

"It's okay buddy." He kissed the top of his head and stood up. His eyes met Bucks and he caught a breath. The man in front of him was gorgeous. As tall as him with a slightly smaller build but long legs. He had an adorable pink birthmark by his left eyebrow underneath a head of gentle dirty blonde curls.

"Were you the one who found my kid?" He asked.

"Uh, yeah. Bu.. Evan. Evan Buckley."

Evan. Tommy couldn't help notice the similarity. Evangelina was all about signs from the universe, which He'd always waved away as hocum. But now..

"Tommy Kinard." He responded, somehow feeling nervous all of a sudden. "Thank you. For finding him." He smiled. Something about those smile lines around his eyes made Bucks heart beat a little faster.

"He actually found me if I'm honest." He laughed. Tommy looked at his son.

"I need to put bells on this kid I swear." He said. Buck smiled and Tommys mouth went dry.

"Hey Tommy, you still want that surpise thing?" Bobby asked walking over.

"So long as my kid stays in the damn truck, sure."

"What surpise?" Buck asked confused.

"Well-" Tommy said lifting Lucas up into his arms "-how would you like to go on a real life ride on an engine?" He asked Lucas.

"Can I daddy?" Lucas asked practically vibrating.

"I don't know. What do you think Captain Nash?" Tommy turned them to face him.

"I think that would be okay." He smiled.

"Well let's go then!" Tommy said to Lucas putting him the back of the engine.

"Buck, Eddie is dealing with a broken ankle by the teacups, so I need you to jump in." Bobby told him.

"Got it Cap." He jumped in the back as cap got in the drivers seat. Tommy buckled Lucas in, they he snd Buck sat either side of him. They caught eachothers gaze and held it for a few moments. Something sparked in both of their chests.

"You ready, kid?" Bobby called from the front.

"Yeah!"

"Here we go!" Bobby put the sirens on and turned on the engine.

[this-is-chaos-magick]

Sorry for rambling but I can't just thinking about this and I need people to listen to me I see Wanda smut fics all the time but I can't find post about analyzing and appreciating her character ( I see other fandoms do it with their fav characters I want one with Wanda too) Everything about Wanda's character is making me so freaking sad like i hate that half of her fans only care about her powers and that she's hot... she's more than that..I know it's fiction and it's not that serious but she makes me insane

She has every reason to be angry and be a Villain. because she didn't ask to suffer she didn't ask to be powerful and when she try to do something good and she did, the government put her in the raft everyone acts like she throws the bomb on the building on purpose when it's the only way to save Captain America and everyone around them. People blamed her for her own suffering and blamed her for a tragedy she didn't even cause, She can never come home because the house where all of her happy memories is made doesn't exist. She tried do everything to prove to everyone that she is good and it's not enough. The girl who only wanted people to accept her, the girl who only wanted to be love, the girl who wanted to be good, wasn't good enough

Her and Pietro is trapped under the rubbles of her own house for 2 days, no cause I can't imagine what that must be like? They know their parents are dead. They don't know if they are going to survive. They don't know if someone is going to come rescue them. And when they got rescued. They probably did not have given the chance to grieve their parents. Her parents body are probably unrecognizable and were buried in a mass grave, They are force to grow up too quickly and they have no choice but to accept it.

The reason she ends up so checked out of reality is probably that horrible things keep happening to her, and she has no choice but to go "ok" and move on from that. The moment she first appeared, the way she behave and act it's obvious she have aggression issues and emotional maturity. She used to go to rallies and protests because the government of her country sucks, (shown in aou) and she grew up with her brother, who probably tried to do everything to stop both of them from starving to death. She joined Hydra because she thought she'd be doing something that would help her and her brother, she didn't join them because she agreed with them. ( It's literally implied that hydra is pretending to be shield and is recruiting volunteers)

She did not throw that bomb on that building on purpose; she's trying to save Steve and the people around her. She literally saved a lot of people's lives there, but people keep focusing on her mistake.

Wanda had done so many good things because she was good despite every reason not to. If she is "evil" from the beginning she would have not side with the avengers and just run away after learning Ultron's real plan

She would have not tried so hard to stop the bombs in Lagos if she did not care about other people's life. she save Natasha's and okoye's life, She did everything she could to stop thanos, she did everything the team ordered her to do.

She doesn't want to kill vision because she's afraid of being alone. Westview happened because she couldn't take it anymore. If She is evil she would have not the of people of that town go

"Why didn't she go to therapy?"

Girl, I don't think therapists in the "M*rvel" can help her. You know how people there react to her. If she goes to a therapist, it will probably make her worse. She wants Vision back because he's the only one who understands and truly loves her, and he treats her better than most people there.

She wants her sons back because they make her feel normal and human.They probably reminds her of her life when she is young before everything went horrible. And I don't want to her that "ThEy ArE nOt rEaL" bullshit, They are real to her, she gave birth them. She feels them kicking in her stomach, she touch them she cooks for them, change their diapers, made memories with them, they are not just objects or toys to her, they are her children, she gave life to them, they have souls, they just don't have a physical body

No cause Wanda is happy in Edinburg with vision, those are probably the times where she feels real happiness and thanos ruined everything.

If thanos didn't come, Wanda and vision will be have a real marriage and probably have adopted real children.

Wanda only want people to accept her, she only wanted to be treated like a human being, she doesn't care about being powerful. All of the crimes she committed happened because ever since she's a little she suffered, and I don't care if there are other people who suffers than her, people process trauma differently.

the way Wanda is influenced with something dark and evil and all of she ever wanted is to hug her sons again, she did not want to rule the entire universe she didn't want anything all she ever wanted is to be with her family

Wanda realize she have the power to do everything she wants (darkhold influ.)

that she has a will and that she can make her self happy and I love her for trying.b and I do think she makes stupid and horrible decisions, but so do I, and that's okay;

She's been a hero, a victim, and a villain. because the writers and the shitty universe she's in, don't know what to make of her they accidentally created a character with so many potential and they don't know what to do next and they just killed her off because they think she's not as important like the rest, and majority of her fans just cares about her powers, they only care that she can "solo" people hated Wanda's character because of that. People won't look deeper into her character because the people that claimed to love her also weaponized her. She is doomed by the narrative, ruined by her some of her "fans" and we might not see her again because the universe she's in sucks.

rahhh I am losing it over a fictional woman who has been dead for (?)2 years :(

sorry again for yapping to much I just love this woman so much, my English is not that great sorry if some words are use incorrectly and I am half asleep while typing this so sorry for typos... goodnight

[mellowsadistic]

Couples Therapy - Part 1

After Angela cheats on her husband, she agrees to go to couples therapy with him, but each session with the therapist leaves her feeling less and less like a grown-up.

***

Angela tapped her foot impatiently while her husband spoke with the therapist privately, probably whining about how angry and betrayed he felt. They were both supposed to go in together in a moment, but for now she was stuck waiting in reception.

Really, she couldn’t understand why Eric was being so dramatic. It was only sex! It wasn’t as though she didn’t love him anymore. She just needed to have a little fun sometimes, that was all. They weren’t even thirty yet! He was twenty-eight and she was twenty-seven. Did he really expect her to settle down and stick to a single sexual partner when she was still so young?

But he’d insisted on seeing a marriage counsellor and she’d eventually agreed, albeit reluctantly. Their therapist was a man. How was he supposed to understand what it was like for a woman in her situation? And her first impressions of the office hadn’t been great either. The receptionist was a total bimbo!

Angela glanced over at her. She was dressed up like some bizarre fetish fantasy. Her long blonde hair was tied up in a pair of high pigtails, and her stripper-sized tits were crammed into a sparkly Disney princess top. Didn’t this place have a uniform? She looked like an overgrown six-year-old for goodness sake! And she’d been acting like one too when she’d tried to match their names to their booking. Her husband had been very patient with her stupid lisping voice and barely passable ability to read, but Angela had wanted to turn around and leave straight away. What kind of serious therapist’s office employed a woman like that?

At last the door opened, and the therapist stood in the doorway. He smiled kindly and gestured her to come inside.

“He’s weady for you now!” the bimbo receptionist chirped happily, looking up from what looked like a fashion magazine for tweens.

Angela rolled her eyes. “Thanks.”

She went into the office and the therapist closed the door behind her. Eric was lounged on a sofa facing a hard-backed wooden chair, looking perfectly relaxed. Angela sat down next to her husband, leaving a few inches of space in between them.

The therapist didn’t take a seat in the wooden chair, however. He took a tablet from his desk in the corner and stood in front of Angela.

“Here,” he said, handing it to her. She looked down at the screen in her lap in confusion. What was this for? Some sort of presentation?

“I find that girls always get a bit nervous in my office,” he said, talking to her in a light, overly friendly tone, as if he was talking to a nursery-schooler. “This will help you relax, okay sweetie?”

Angela scowled. She was about to launch into a furious tirade. She couldn’t stand being talked down to! Who the hell did this man think he was? If he assumed most women were like his ditzy receptionist then he had another thing coming. But before she could say a word, the tablet in her lap came to life. Brilliant pastel colours swirled and spiralled on the screen, sinking into a single spot in the centre, and her complaints died in her throat. She couldn’t take her eyes off it. It was just so pretty…

“There we go,” said the therapist in that same sweet tone. “That always takes care of fussy little girls.”

“Is there anything I have to do?” Eric asked.

Angela felt strange. She was vaguely aware of the men’s words, but it was as though they were coming to her from the end of a very long tunnel. Her attention was focused on the dazzling lights on the screen.

“Not a thing. Let me do all the talking. Did you hear that, Angela? We’re going to have a little talk, okay sweetie? Nothing to be nervous about. I’m a trained professional, after all. We need to have a little talk about how you betrayed your husband. About how he found out you were cheating on him. Because that wasn’t very clever of you, was it Angela? Getting caught.”

Angela shook her head, not taking her eyes off the screen. “Not clever,” she echoed. It was true. She shouldn’t have been caught. She should have been more careful not to let him find out. Because even though there was nothing wrong with what she’d done, even though she was completely in the right, Eric wouldn’t understand.

“That’s right, Angela,” said the therapist. “You’ve been a very dumb bitch, haven’t you?”

Angela frowned. That didn’t sound right. Dumb bitch. Was it okay for the therapist to call her that?

“Look at the pretty sparkles, sweetie,” he encouraged, and Angela sank back into the swirling lights. “That’s right. You’re just a dumb bitch, Angela. All women are, but you especially. That’s okay though. You don’t know any better – you’re just girls.”

Angela knew vaguely that there was something she didn’t like about what the man was saying, but she was too engrossed in the swirling colours to care. His words were like background noise. She could understand them if she concentrated, but it was so hard to focus with the wonderful patterns in front of her.

“Yes, you’re just a girl, Angela. Just a silly little girl. A big child. It doesn’t matter if you do something wrong, because you can’t be held accountable for your actions, can you? You’re sweet and innocent.”

Angela nodded eagerly, a dim smile spreading across her face. She hadn’t done anything wrong. If she wasn’t so distracted by her tablet, she’d have smirked at Eric. His stupid attempt to guilt-trip her with marriage counselling was backfiring on him. The therapist was on her side.

“Besides,” the therapist continued. “You didn’t cheat on your husband anyway, did you Angela?”

Angela was confused. She had cheated on Eric. Was the therapist going to help her cover it up? But Eric already knew, didn’t he? Surely that wouldn’t work! The lights on the screen grew brighter. They were so, so pretty…

“You didn’t,” the therapist said again. “In fact, it’s completely impossible for you to have cheated on your husband. You know why, I’m sure. It’s because of your embarrassing bedwetting habit.”

Angela wrinkled her nose and started trying to shake her head in disgust. She didn’t wet the bed! The therapist must be confused. He must be mixing her up with some little girl. Maybe one of his other clients was some silly little bedwetter who needed to be reassured that everyone had accidents now and again, but that certainly wasn’t her.

“Don’t… I don’t wet the bed…” she mumbled. Her words felt heavy in her mouth. It was hard to think. She just wanted to watch the pretty swirling lights.

“Look at the colours, sweetie,” the therapist told her. “That’s a good girl. You are a bedwetter, Angela. You wet the bed every night. You have done for quite a few weeks now. And what man would want to sleep with a woman who still pisses herself in her sleep like a dumb toddler? You’re very lucky your husband puts up with your babyish behaviour, young lady.”

Angela’s face slackened as the spirals spun faster and faster. Lucky. She was a lucky girl. She was lucky to have a husband who put up with her bedwetting. Another man might leave his wife if she started peeing herself every night. Especially if she’d cheated on him too. But Eric didn’t know about that. Did he? It was strange. For a while Angela had been sure he did. And the therapist didn’t seem to know either. In fact, he thought it was impossible for a bedwetter like her to cheat on her husband! She blushed even more brightly. How had she done it? Angela frowned slightly. She didn’t know. She couldn’t remember clearly. But the therapist was right – who’d want to have sex with some stupid, bedwetting baby-woman? Why would anyone sleep with her when it meant waking up in piss-soaked sheets, or next to someone in a sopping wet diaper. Her special protection. Her baby pants. Was the therapist still talking? She tried to pay attention.

“…because your husband puts up with you in other ways too, doesn’t he?” he was saying. “It’s not just the bedwetting. You actually have quite a few silly, childish behaviours that no adult woman should reasonably be expected to have. You…”

Angela tuned out again. She could feel his words entering her ears, but her attention was focused entirely on the lights in her lap. So pretty. Such pretty lights…

When she came to, the tablet was gone, Eric was standing up and putting his coat on, and the therapist was looking at her with a satisfied expression on his face. Had she fallen asleep?

“Ready to go home?” Eric asked her brightly.

Angela smiled back, a little hesitantly. She’d thought she was in trouble, but maybe she’d just been confused. She was such a silly girl sometimes. Such a dumb bitch.

Eric held out his hand, and she took it. It felt nice to be holding onto him. It felt reassuring. He held her hand all the way back to their house, and while he walked, she couldn’t help herself from skipping along beside him.

[ranger-ribbons]

General Ranger Headcanons

Ranger Teams are protective of their youngest members and their Reds. Sometimes, this does coincide, but for the most part, the youngest and the Red are separate people

Red Rangers generally have zero self-preservation instincts, either because of trauma or daredevil personalities

Blue Rangers can be the 'tech wiz', but generally, they're just extremely intelligent

Rangers all have a pretty solid relationship with gender and pronouns. Mostly because they see and fight aliens literally every day and have decided they have Bigger Things to worry about

Reds, Yellows, and Blues are usually always there on the Ranger teams, so it's common for them to be close

Rangers have a list that they pass down to the younger teams. This list details little things like how to help give each other strength to what pain medications can help the aches and pains go away fastest, because yes the suits take most of the blows, but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt later

Some Rangers have PTSD, some have anxiety, some have depression. There are, in fact, numbers of former-Ranger therapists that the Rangers all know by heart

Teams don't really drift apart, they stick together because who else is gonna understand what it's like to witness the people you hang around daily almost die every other week?

Rangers drift toward other Rangers. It's due to the Morphin' Grid power they've been imbued with and the Morphin' Grid's pull to itself

There's a point in every Ranger's fight that shift-sleeping becomes the norm amongst teams. It's to stop nightmares, but also because of the paranoia that strikes when you're in fight or flight mode too long

Rangers from space or space-adjacent stick together

Rangers in general stick together, always. Where one Ranger is, another is typically not far behind. Some teams go so far as to get houses together, others just in the same neighborhood or town. Never far from each other, and never away for too long

The Power will never, can never abandon its chosen people. Once it makes its choices, it will not deviate. It doesn't stop looking out for its chosen ones either. Once you've bonded to the Morphin' Grid, you're stuck for life, regardless of being active or not

In Universe, people write fanfiction about the Rangers. Yes, they read it, sometimes they even like it. (Megaforce and down in particular find it hilarious)

The scone the Rangers find out about their Super Sentai counterpart shows, it's on. Some find them hilarious, some find them uncomfortable, but it's all in good fun for all of them

A list of common triggers is passed around to the Ranger teams, including but not limited to: loud noises, bugs, fog, robotic voices/static

Some of the Rangers (especially those who've been fighting for years) get therapy animals

Rangers have problems connecting to people who aren't Rangers or don't know about Rangers. Similar to military or police or doctors, Rangers are never truly off unless they're inactive and even then, it's a roll of the dice as to if they'll be pulled back in. Most of them have been doing this since they were teens, so they never truly got a chance. Preston Tien, Ninja Steel Blue, once described the experience as "playing with a half-deck whilst the other decks are rigged against you" and most of the other Rangers agreed

Every Ranger knows the pain of Nightmares, which is a big part of the reason shift-sleeping became so common amongst teams. Sleeping disorders are also common, which is not easy for the Rangers to deal with. When you're trained from a young age to be fighters and saviors of the planet, you don't walk away without trauma

Rangers who've gone Evil (or started Evil) and come back to the side of Good have each other's direct lines, Tommy Oliver, Karone, Trent Fernandez-Mercer, etc, all of them share a similar fear of suddenly turning evil again

Rangers do not like Zordon for his express need to put teenagers into a war that isn't even their's

[marksmelodies]

for better, for worse

idol chenle x fem reader

genre: angst, smut, fluff

warnings: cussing, mentions of sex, unprotected sex,

—————————————————————————

you and chenle have been fighting a lot lately, everything you say to eachother ends up in a argument. it’s a never ending saga of screaming, fighting, threatening to break up, making up, having sex, then fighting again and so on.you currently were staring at the clock on the wall as chenle was thrusting in and out of you, wishing was that it would be over soon.you love chenle and you love your sex life with him but recently it seemed like a sympathy card and nothing more.the two of you used to have so much chemistry, your sex was amazing, you two were so passionately in love, but now you both seemed burnt out.

chenle was chasing his orgasm, thrusts were becoming rushed and messy, headboard smashing against the wall, it seemed as if he was just eager to blow off steam rather than actually wanting to have sex with you.the two of you fought earlier due to chenle blowing you off again for work, you tried your best to be understanding of his job, you knew how much it consumes his life, but when he’s blowing you off every single day it’s really hard to justify it, selfishly you wanted him to focus on you more than work.when you brought it up to him he got defensive and started yelling, which caused you to get angry and the whole situation escalated very quick leading to screaming, cussing and slamming doors.

you looked at him and wondered if you two would ever go back to how you used to.once he finished he laid down back facing you not saying a word, the next thing you know you hear soft snores coming from him.you walked to the bathroom and turned the shower on, feeling a little sore from chenle taking out his anger on you.

as the water hit your back, you begin to sob, knowing the love of your life is slipping away was the worst feeling in the entire world. you wouldn’t blame him though, your relationship had become extremely toxic.a few moments of you crying you hear the bathroom door open.

“ i’m coming in i have to piss” you hear chenle say softly

you quickly get ahold of yourself “ go ahead ” you respond your voice shaking a little.silence fell between you two for a few moments until he speaks up.

“ it’s because of me right”

“ what”

“ your crying that hard over me… over us” you go silent again not knowing what to say, that’s when chenle steps in the shower fully clothed saying nothing, just grabbing you pulling you into a hug.you take a minute to process what’s happening you feel the man in your arms start to shake before hearing him wail, in all of the years you’ve been together you have never once seen him cry so hard.you both stand in the shower with the water running embracing eachother as you two sob.he finally looks up at you with red eyes and quivering lips

“ please don’t leave me” he cried into your shoulder

“ shhh baby everything’s going to be okay”

“ but it’s not, it’s not y/n and i don’t know how to fix it”

you both soak in this very vulnerable moment and decide to sit down and have a conversation when you were done.

“ first of all chenle i’m not leaving you, i don’t know where you got that from but when i promised you forever i meant it”

“ second of all, i think we need to go to couples therapy” you say to him. he just stared at you

“ i think it’ll help, really, a friend of mine recommended me a good therapist. i’m going to fight for us chenle and i’ll do whatever it takes”

“ me too, i’ll go if that’s what you think will help”

“ i really do babe, i think it’ll help a lot” that night you two were making some sort of progress even though it doesn’t mean much because you knew at some point you two would regress and go back to square one but you had a glimpse of hope this time.instead of spending the night at your friends place avoiding chenle which would usually happen around this time of night.you lay cuddled on the couch watching a movie, you can feel chenle shifting as if he was uncomfortable.you got up to get him some water, when you came back chenle was standing up looking a little frantic.you were confused until you saw the tent in his pants.

“ really lele” you roll your eyes

“ you can never keep it in your pants” you laugh to yourself.

“ i’m sorry babe it just happens, i’ll go take care of it in the bathroom i’ll be right back” he says at you frown at him.

“ i mean you could do that or i don’t know you have your turned on girlfriend standing right in front of you” you smirk,he walks over to you picking you up making his way to the bedroom.throwing you down on the bed, immediately smashing his lips onto yours, grinding his clothed dick onto you as you moan into his lips, driving him crazy.

“ fuck i cant take it anymore” he rips your shirt and shorts off, taking your under garments with it too, leaving you completely naked.kissing a trail down your body he lifts your hips up a little to make you comfortable as he licks a stripe down your pussy

“ oh my god chenle” you moan, he smiles at you before diving completely into your heat, sucking at your clit you arch your back, lacing your fingers into his hair he pulls you forward flicking his tongue back and forth.you feel your orgasm building up, “ babe i’m coming” you scream as you release all over his face.you lay there catching your breath, for the first time in a very long time you felt content in the bedroom, for the first time in months he actually made you finish.chenle takes one if your legs lifting it onto his shoulder as he places his other hand on your waist, thrusting into you “ oh my god babe you’re so wet for me” he says as your hands grip the bedsheets, he flips you around arching your back for him he slams into you again with no warning, earning screams from you.continuously hitting your g spot you feel yourself about to cum again

“ chenle im gonna cum” you cry

“ wait for a little longer babe i want to come together”chenle has you a squirming mess under him, he has to keep one hand on your lower back keeping you arched as the other one is on your waist.

“ lele i cant hold it anymore please” is you beg

“ be a good girl y/n, i’m almost there” squeezing your eyes shut he turns you around again

“ look at me baby i wanna see you when we cum” chenle takes both of your legs bending them into your chest as he thrusts as hard as he can,his trusts become sloppy as he lets low groans out of his mouth.

“ fuck baby you ready” he asks

“ yes yes please”

“ cum for me babygirl” he demands as you both finish at the same time.chenle collapses onto you, not taking himself out of you yet.

“ fuck baby that was so good” he whispers kissing your neck

“ that’s the best sex we’ve had in so long” you smile

“ i know love, we definitely needed that”taking himself out of you he cleans you up and joins you back in bed.

“ i love you so much sweet girl, i promise we will make it through this rough patch” he kisses your forehead.

“ i know we will lele, i love you too”

** a year later**

you and chenle did end up going to couples therapy and it has changed your relationship for the better.you two haven’t gotten into fights since, you are in the honeymoon stage all over again, and let’s just say you two can’t stay off of eachother, you feel like teenagers again.the romance has sparked in your relationship again and it has never felt better.

you were currently joining him on his europe leg of his tour. waking up next to your man every morning in a new place had been a dream come true.today you were in paris , chenle had soundcheck and dance practice but other than that you had the night to yourselves since his show wasn’t until tomorrow.you stayed in bed most of the day catching up on rest until you receive a text from your boyfriend telling you he made dinner reservations tonight and to dress fancy.

you quickly got up and started getting ready.a few hours later you were finally ready as chenle made his way to pick you up.he was dressed in a nice white button down shirt and black slack pants, it took everything in you not to jump his bones right then are there.

the night was beautiful, he rented out the rooftop of a very fancy restaurant looking out onto the Eiffel Tower which shimmered every so often and had music playing soft instrumentals.you were left speechless.chenle however seemed a little nervous and quieter than usual.

finishing up your dinner you looked to your boyfriend.

“ chenle this is amazing really, thank you so much”

“ you deserve everything and more my love” he kisses your hand. you smile at him as he falls quiet again.he clears his throat.

“ let’s go look at the view huh” he suggests. he walks with you hand in hand as he leads you over to the edge of the rooftop.standing under a beautiful arch with vines and fairy lights you look at the Eiffel Tower in awe.

“ it’s so beautiful chenle, i’m never going to forget this moment” you turn to him and notice he’s not beside you anymore.confused you turn around to find him kneeling down on one knee holding out a small box with a beautiful diamond ring in it.

you gasp covering your mouth with your hands as tears stream down your cheeks.

“ y/n i have loved you from the moment i met you, never in my lifetime have i experienced a love greater than yours, we’ve been through so much together, i know that we can face whatever the world throws at us as long as we are together, i love you more than words can describe you have my whole heart, you have changed my life and i will forever be so grateful, through good seasons and bad i will always be by your side, i can not wait for our future together. (your full name) will you marry me?”

“ yes a million times yes” you say without hesitation as he slides the ring onto your finger pulling you into a kiss. you wrap your arms around his neck embracing him tightly.

“ i know we already promised forever a long time ago but i thought a big shiny ring would be a nice touch” chenle jokes as he kisses you again.

“ i cant wait to spend the rest of my life with you zhong chenle.”

—————————————————————————thank you for reading, i hope you enjoy!!!

[five-thousand-loaves-of-bread]

asking in good faith, i remembered you once posted about having nuance about ABA and i want to understand what you mean by that because i know you post from a non-western disabled perspective.

is ABA something other than operant conditioning in other places? if not, shouldn't we be listening to the ABA survivors who call ABA abusive and dehumanizing? if something is abusive to some but happened to help others, isn't it irresponsible to say that ABA is good for anyone just because it helps some people and has hurt others, like the psychiatric system?

asking because i want to understand what nuance there is, because the only people i know who have had to endure ABA therapy in their life have survived really horrific, dehumanizing abuse like being treated as a dog by their ABA therapists. is there nuance to this?

hornet nest. don’t really love talk about ABA but will answer this one. so

1) when talk about ABA, from western perspective. ABA here (<certain non-western country) even worse lol (would say newly introduced compare to say US… plus there not much of neurodivergent acceptance movement here & eugenics rampant people on social media proudly say classic eugenics stuff n admit eugenics good. like admit eugenics by exact word.)

2) important correction that never said ABA good for anyone everyone. never said ABA not abusive never abusive. because ABA often is abusive. would say such vast majority abusive. some more subtle and or not all encompassing in practice than others but vast vast majority use harmful ideology or methods in some way (90%? higher?not scientific number by any mean, throwing it out there based on observation, more illustrate point of how high than Actual Accurate Number). if any time you (general you) got from my post about ABA think am arguing ABA never abusive then you definitely understand something wrong, or am didn’t communicate right. despite what may seem like on this blog, anytime hear “ABA” alarm bell go off. anytime see “am ABA therapist” immediate distrust & avoid & rarely earn back.

with that out of way:

fortunately with neurodivergent activists & ABA survivors advocating, n neurodiversity affirming become more of a “good thing to describe self as”, some ABA clinics trying/say they trying change. try more natural learning, try more strength based techniques, less drills, less DTT, less force eye contact, less force mask, less punishment but more reward, less food motivators, less planned withholding… we at very very beginning of this

unfortunately “neurodiversity affirming” becoming buzzword. can slap it on anything. include “at first glance look all good person have fun smiling but if know what look for, harmful practice glaring at you” ABA. people can say they do nonabusive ABA n do harmful practices. n sometimes it people genuinely trying take abusive part out of ABA but not realize some aspects still… harmful. still coercive. still take away autonomy. (ETA n of course there many places where unchanged)

operant conditioning… hard one because. n this maybe out of topic or nit pick. give self shiny gold star sticker for monkey brain (reward) whenever finish task (goal behavior) technically operant conditioning. not abusive. but ABA abusive because… “only look at behavior ignore internal, smile mean happy eye contact mean better milder” operant conditioning. “‘tantrum’ undesirable behavior attention seeking so not reward behavior need extinguish behavior by planned ignore (who care why they meltdown)” operant conditioning. “food rewards you earn eat only when you good, you earn comfort only when you good” operant conditioning. “stop elopement by physically block them from leave n once they learn stop elope they better (actually just replaced physical flight with dissociation freeze)” operant conditioning

& sometimes it not that “ABA not abusive”… but more not believe ABA more abusive than say. police that kill visibly autistic people especially visibly autistic Black people. or more serious than “put your autistic child in therapy or we take them away. n by therapy we mean ABA.” or “am single parent work multiple jobs child keep get sent home mid day bc behaviors which mean interrupt work less pay more likely get fired. struggle pay bills cant afford childcare but insurance cover 40 hour ABA idk what to do.” or “get kicked out of 7th school 937473th SLP OT because behaviors” ETA (forgot to retype when draft got deleted so add back in) this not saying “ABA abuse okay bc other abuse exist.” but more of ABA not exist alone & ABA exist because other things exist & cannot get rid of ABA alone without get rid of system that produce it

know people who went through ABA as child n not feel traumatized n actually found it help (n some of them may be traumatized just not realize it but there people who thought about it a lot & still conclude not traumatized). know people who went thru ABA found it both help n abuse. know ABA survivors who “maybe did help but abused by it don’t want the help if mean abuse.” know ABA survivors who just. abused. of course ABA survivors who abused by it should be prioritized. people who went thru ABA who not traumatized very minority & at least huge bit of luck. n often times also with some mix of privilege (location eg state with better healthcare more up to date healthcare cities at blue states etc, financial, etc.). hence why never say “ABA never abusive.” n why don’t feel comfortable call self ABA “survivor” because. well. not traumatized by it. don’t feel right

all of this (n tbh anything am saying abt ABA) more said towards non ABA survivor audience (specifically those who hear like third hand fourth hand fifteenth hand information n never actually read anything official about ABA & can’t tell you what it does beyond “promote masking” (often true… but how?) & when asked for more, no clue. am firmly believe you need know enemy to criticize & defeat enemy.). it more of way ask them talk about ABA with more nuance n more knowledge. no interest “educating” ABA survivors on what ABA is & how it work. not my place. they not need it.

^ because right now “anti-ABA crowd” turned kind of into joke in some people eyes because some people who say “ABA abusive” keep saying same thing as eachother n can’t tell you what ABA actually is beyond “masking & eye contact.” n also poorly done studies (that ABA PTSD study that anyone can just say they went thru ABA & no verify… there difference between letting survivors exist online without interrogate & demand for proof papers, versus published scientific papers). yes many most ABA abusive harmful yes no doubt ABA survivors gotten PTSD from it etc. but if in role of advocacy, neeeeeed be able talk about it with knowledge & nuance (ETA & good evidence). because most impacted are gonna be ABA survivors & them not be taken seriously (already happening).

would love world where. autistic people with serious behaviors that danger to self or others get help they need. without be kicked out of multiple services. without be abused. be treat as human. be treat compassionately. for help be freely available. n their caregivers have respite. n not need work 9 million jobs just to pay bills n not have time be around child. unfortunately we not there yet. n take long time get there. n people struggling now. so need something for now. need harm reduction. so will try take as much harmful stuff out of ABA as possible while we work on new thing.

very bad TL;DR: are there any nuance? ..yes? but when say that people tend think mean “ABA never abusive.” so also no… not in that way

sorry kind of went off tangent. but no short way talk about ABA nuance

potential context for other people? one two three four

though PLEASE. DON’T reblog these ^ posts. don’t want them get revived n have to Deal With That.

[stanfanfiction]

Taste of You - Ken x fem!reader - PART SEVEN

Ken goes to therapy. He has a lotta feelings okay. Very Ken centric chapter. (Yay?) and (possibly) some of the most intense sex I’ve written sooo…let’s go. Probably the longest chapter I’ve written this far, too.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY / there’s always smut there’s never not smut / lots of angst and angry feelings (Ken is trying to process all those hard human things because they’re getting to be too intense for him) / violent imaginative fears (domestic fighting, one instance of hitting 🛑 tread softly if you might be triggered by this (I don’t want anyone triggered or hurt!!)) / nightmares / rough sex / major overstim / size kink / sex toys / anal fingering / possessiveness / lots of crying tbh (Ken is emotional af) / dom!Ken / possibly bordering on some non-con ? Depending on how you view it / fuzzy sweet aftercare

Ken sat opposite the therapist, twiddling his thumbs, staring down at the floor. Occasionally he glanced up at the doctor sitting across from him, a kindly middle aged man (you had suggested he talk to a male therapist, saying maybe in some weird way it would help him deal with jealousy when having to be emotionally open with another man in the room), and he gave Ken a small smile.

“So when this strong jealous hits, what does it feel like?” The therapist asked. He had sensed Ken’s anxiety the moment he walked in the door and opted out of the sitting-with-the-clipboard-for-notes option, instead sitting comfortably in his chair, hoping a conversation-style approach would set Ken at ease.

“It’s like I’ll cease to exist if she leaves me.”

“And does anything help with that?”

“Sex does, kinda. Sometimes a lot, sometimes only for a minute.”

“Have you talked with your partner about it?”

“Yeah.”

“And how did that go?”

“She reassured me. She does every single time.”

“So this has become a consistent conversation?”

Ken paused, picking at nothing on his jeans. “I guess.”

“When was the last time you felt this way?”

“A couple days ago.”

“Did anything in particular happen to trigger it?”

“She’s having to take a class and her ex is in it.”

“Ahhhh.” The therapist mused, letting the silence sit for just a moment. “And you are worried about that?”

“I’m not worried she would do anything intentionally.”

“You’re afraid her former feelings might return for him, though.”

Ken nodded. “Yeah. I get she wouldn’t be able to help that, though. Feelings happen.”

“This is very true. Are you concerned about what might happen if those feelings return? Do you worry she would actually act on them?”

Ken frowned deeply. “I don’t think she would without talking to me first. But I don’t want them happening at all. The feelings, I mean. Because then there’s nothing I can….do.” The last word fell out as a whisper.

“You feel helpless in the relationship?” The therapist asked gently.

“Not…I.., I don’t know.”

“Have you ever been cheated on?”

“No. This is my first relationship.”

The therapist nodded. “Worries about someone leaving you are actually pretty normal, especially the first time you’re with someone.”

“Y/n told me that.”

“Has she ever shown any indication that she wants to leave you? Or that she ever might cheat on you?”

“No. I understand it’s all in my head. It still scares me, though.”

“Can I ask why you decided to come to me today? I assume this is the first time you’ve been in therapy?”

“Yeah…she’s just taking a lot of classes and she gets really stressed sometimes, especially because finals are like a month away.”

“I can understand that. You feel like your jealousy is interfering with her ability to study?”

“It stresses her out more.” Ken bit his lip. “I don’t want to do that to her.”

“So are you worried less about her randomly cheating on you, and more that you are pushing her away from you? Or, encouraging her potentially into the arms of another because she is getting stressed with how you handle your jealousy?”

Fuck. Ken hadn’t thought of it that way before. Now he was even more frightened.

When Ken didn’t answer, just stared down at the carpet, the therapist tried again. “It’s okay to be struggling with how you’re feeling. The fact that you’re working to understand why is healthy, it’s a great move on your part. It also shows her that you want to be supportive of her, and I’m sure that makes her less stressed.”

“I feel like sometimes I’m a bad person.”

“Why is that?”

“I hurt someone I care about before. She didn’t want me, and I….I tried to hurt her. I wanted to feel like I was in charge for once, but I was cruel.”

“Can I ask what you did?”

“It’s a long story.”

“That’s alright. You can tell me about it when you’re ready to.” The therapist paused, working to see how much he might be able to get Ken to explain without pressuring him and making him shut down. “Can I ask, when did this happen with your former friend?”

“Well, she’s still my friend, I guess. She’s really nice. But we don’t see each other.”

“I see.”

“It happened, I don’t know, maybe a half a year ago.”

“Was it around here?”

Ken shrugged. “Kinda.”

“Have you ever taken y/n to where that happened? Or revisited the area alone, just to see how the memories made you feel?”

Ken’s chest tightened. “No.”

“Do you think that is something you might be able to do? Sometimes being back in a physical place where we wronged someone can help us find closure, especially if the one we hurt has forgiven us, but we have been unable to forgive ourselves.”

“I don’t want to.” Ken quickly wiped away a small tear forming, pretending it was something in his eye.

“Do you think y/n would understand if you told her?”

“I’ve told her a little. She wasn’t upset.”

“Does she know the specifics?”

“Uh…no…she met my friend, though. They liked each other.”

“Well that’s really good. Do you think she might be willing to travel with you, be present with you if you decided to try and gain closure?”

“…..I don’t feel like that’s necessary.”

“Can I ask why?”

Ken was silent for a long time. The therapist respected letting him internally process as long as he needed.

“I just think it’s unnecessary.”

“How do you feel you are working to help the problem right now, other than coming to me? Is there anything you’ve tried?”

“Just sex.”

“And why does sex feel like something that can fix the issue for you?”

“Because I have her then.”

“Have her with you?”

“Have her focused only on me.”

“Does she enjoy those times with you? Do you feel like she gets stressed, maybe feeling like she has to have sex with you so you’ll calm down?”

Well, fuck. Ken hadn’t thought of that. That made him feel even worse, angry, even. Though he couldn’t place where the anger came from….oh, wait.

“No. She likes it. She always likes it.”

The therapist was taken aback slightly by the sudden, minor shift in Ken’s tone, noting the aggression suddenly appearing, but kept his external demeanor. Being surprised was a good thing. It meant his client was starting to break through their emotional barrier.

“And can I ask, why would you talking about her enjoying those sessions be something that makes you feel upset?”

“She has to like them.”

“Why is that?”

“It’s all I have to offer her.” The words tumbled out before Ken’s brain had even fully processed them, and he sat dumbstruck, his own sentence replaying in his head. He felt like someone had stabbed him in the chest.

“Ahhhhh. That sounds like that’s a lot of stress you’re dealing with, too. Feeling like you only have one certain thing of yourself to offer her that she sees as worthy of her time must be exhausting for you.”

Ken worked hard to hold back the new tears that were coming stronger than he knew what to do with.

“Do you feel that she actually only sees you as worth her time because of the sex?”

Ken shook his head genuinely. “No.”

“So that’s another lie you have told yourself.” The therapist kept his tone soft.

“I don’t know.”

“That’s okay. You don’t have to know right now.”

****************************************************

The walk home was torture. He tried so hard to think through everything they’d talked about as “healthily” as he could - the therapist’s words. But all he could think about was silencing everything for just a little while. He thought of getting home to tie you to the bed again and just fuck you for hours. Every time you were lying trapped underneath him was the only time he ever felt like he truly had any control over anything. But maybe today he needed to to be free to move however you pleased, to experience however you would wrap yourself around him or grasp onto his muscles or grab his hair. He could easily still keep you underneath him as long as he wanted with just his body weight.

The closer he got to the front door, however, the more overwhelmed he became, the voices in his head growing louder and louder, and suddenly he felt like he couldn’t even fuck you if he wanted to right now. He felt like he might collapse.

Ken opened the door as quietly as he could, not wanting to alert you he was home. Unfortunately, since the kitchen was very close to the entryway, you heard the moment he stepped inside.

“Hi, baby,” you said, turning while holding your coffee cup.

Ken froze, feeling embarrassed. He still didn’t know why he did, but he had worked to stop crying the entire walk home, without success. His eyes were bloodshot and his cheeks wet.

“Oh, Ken,” you said, setting down your cup and coming up to him, your hands on his face, your thumbs rubbing across his cheekbones. “It was a hard talk today?”

Ken nodded, hanging his head, his hands wrapping around your wrists. “I feel like I’m nothing to you, but I know better.”

“That’s okay.” Your voice was like a warm tea coating his aching chest. “I know you struggle with that. I can keep reminding you that you mean so much to me.”

“What if…like, I couldn’t offer you sex?”

You cocked your head, confused, but went with it. “I would still love you the same.”

He forced his eyes up to meet yours. “You mean it?”

“MMhmm. I do.”

He sniffed.

“Do you feel like I wouldn’t love you?” You asked.

“I don’t know,” he said, looking down again.

“Do you need some rest? Anytime I get really upset and have cried really hard some time in bed always helps me.”

He nodded, and you took his hand in yours, leading him to the bedroom. You helped him out of his clothes leaving him only in his boxers and went to the closet, pulling something out.

“Here,” you said, walking over to the bed and tossing a huge comforter on top of it. “This is my extra soft, cozy one. I used to use it all the time on really hard days awhile ago. I had forgotten I had it until now.”

He smiled a little then, reaching his hand out to you. You went to sit on the bed next to him, keeping your feet on the floor. You kissed his palm as his hand went to rest of your face.

“I love you so very, very much, my love,” you cooed. “But I need to get back to studying. I have awhile yet to go. I had just taken a short break to make some caffeine when you came home.”

Came home. Okay. Focus on the good things, his therapist had suggested. “Listen to anything that makes you feel safe or calm, try to enjoy the moment while it’s happening. This might help when you get stressed out to remember those times and know you are safe.”

“I’m home with you,” he mumbled.

You didn’t understand but nodded. “Yes. You’re home with me.”

He hummed, snuggling underneath the covers. “Okay.”

You smiled at him and kissed his cheek before picking up your laptop from your desk and picking up a textbook, heading out of the bedroom, closing the door behind you. You’d study at the kitchen table while he rested.

The home was on fire. Ken rushed through the flames, yelling your name, panic rising every second he couldn’t find you as smoke filled his lungs. Finally he heard you as you screamed, and his heart jumped in his chest as he rounded the corner to find your hands restrained to the wall over your head, blindfolded. You weren’t screaming in terror, you were screaming with pleasure. A faceless man was holding your legs around his waist, fucking up into you violently. It seemed you had no idea about the flames about to consume you, or maybe even who the man was. Ken tried to make his legs moved, begged them to, but he was stuck on the spot. He cried out your name but it seemed you didn’t hear him, your head through back in ecstasy as you moaned in time with the man’s thrust. Ken found a rock next to him and threw it at the man. It bounced off of him as if he didn’t even know it had been thrown, but then the blank face slowly turned to stare at Ken, a wicked smile suddenly spreading across his face where a mouth hadn’t been a moment before.

Ken sat upright in bed, gasping, panicking as he grabbed at anything he could touch, stopping only when he realized he had only fisted his hands up in the comforter. He buried his face hands, shaking, trying to stop the sobs that threatened to take him over again. He couldn’t remember ever having a nightmare before. He’d heard of them, but couldn’t even remember having a dream, only knowing they were something that apparently were a normal thing for most people, yourself included.

He tried to pinpoint the emotions he was feeling - something else the therapist had suggested when he got overwhelmed. Okay. Angry. Scared. Angry. Heartbroken? Fuck. Really, really fucking angry. He fell back into the pillows only to realize the sheets were covered in sweat underneath him.

You would help him feel better. He could go to you and you would pause your homework to soothe him and pet him and sit on his lap while he held you and hid his face in your neck. You wouldn’t be mad at him, you’d be so kind and patient like you always were.

He didn’t deserve you.

He didn’t deserve anything good.

The idea of going to you quietly to ask for comfort left his mind as quickly as it floated in, being forced out by a memory he created himself that honestly would probably never happen: you ignoring him, you telling him to get over himself while he finally was trying to understand why he kept feeling so angry like you had asked him to, you yelling at him, throwing something at his face. Telling him to….

“I can’t leave,” he cried into the pillow. “You said this was our home.”

You laughed. “Our nothing. Get the fuck out.”

You slapped him. He felt like his entire being shattered.

Ken was gripping the pillow so tight that his wrist began to cramp. Why. WHY couldn’t he stop these horrific scenes that played through his head.

The therapist had told him to breathe, even showed him how to inhale for four seconds and exhale the same amount of time. The mental scenarios weren’t real. They just might feel real.

Maybe he did need to return to Barbieland for a day…? Maybe he was dealing with fear that throwing Barbie out of her home could rebound back onto him…

UGH. Fuck fuck. This was hard. This was way too fucking hard. How was this supposed to help him get better, especially when your soft, perfect body was right behind that door, just down the hallway. When your voice could be filling his ears and drowning out at least most of these horrible things he heard in his head. Your taste filling his mouth, the scent of you, every inch of you, making him feel drunk.

You looked up from your book, Ken standing in the doorway. Sweat covered his body, his hair erratic, his face still as wet as earlier.

The concerned look on your face soothed him…but just a little.

“What happened?” You asked gently.

“I had a nightmare.”

Oh shit. “I’m so sorry. Do you need to talk about it?”

He shook his head. “Wanna forget it.”

“I understand that. Do you want to come sit with me?”

“Want you with me.”

“Yes, Ken, that’s what I said-“

“Want you with me.”

Before you knew what was happening Ken had picked you up and set you on the kitchen counter where you became trapped between the cabinets and him. “Need you.”

“What did the therapist tell you to do when you feel like this?” You tried softly, reaching for the hand towel next to you and gently wiped at his chest to remove the cold sweat.

“It’s not working.”

“It doesn’t always work right away.”

He wanted to slam you into the cabinets, forcing his lips onto yours, making you stop talking about all the bullshit he had been fighting inside himself ever since that stupid appointment today. He knew that was the wrong thing to do.

“Can I ask what happens to you when you choose sex to deal with these emotions you’re struggling with?” The therapist had asked. “Anything in particular that seems to help at all?”

Ken didn’t want to answer. Would you call the sex violent is he asked? Or would it just be ‘rough’? He didn’t like the word violent…you had never told him that word, so it mustn’t be so. You would have told him. You would tell him if he ever hurt you.

“Ken?” The therapist had said, breaking through the long silence that had followed his question.

“I….I tend to be rough.”

“How does that help you?”

“I don’t have to think as much as usual. It helps block it all out.”

“It blocks all of it out?”

“Well…not everything, not always. But sometimes. Sometimes I get to have moments where everything becomes quiet except for her. I get to just hear her.”

And he desperately needed to hear you now. His strong hand ripped your crop top off, tearing the material from how hard he had pulled. You sighed as you watched it thrown to the floor.

“I liked that top,” you said.

“I’ll get you ten more,” Ken promised, biting down onto your nipple.

You cried out, your fingers digging into his shoulders.

Oh, thank god. The exquisite pain of the way your nails dug into his skin, the taste of your flesh, the sound of your voice. His mind quieted for a second, and he heaved a sigh of relief as his tongue circled your nipple, his hands on your back, holding you into him.

“Do you feel like you take your anger out on her during sex?” The therapist’s words echoed in his head. God fucking dammit, not now. He had you in his arms. He would have you underneath him any second now. He didn’t need these fucking questions interrupting any of his time with you, especially these times.

“I don’t know.”

“Have you asked her if she feels that way?”

“She wouldn’t feel that way,” Ken forced himself not to sneer.

“Why wouldn’t she?”

“Because she likes it.”

“You’re sure about that?”

“She would tell me if she didn’t!”

He slammed you into the wall now, your legs wrapped around him, needing to fuck that horrible image from his nightmare out of his mind. You had pleaded with him not to tear the pajamas pants you had been wearing and he had pulled them off swiftly, laying them in a single piece on the table before picking you up again.

“You like this?” He asked, voice breathless but harsh. He was terrified of your answer, but now that the question was on his mind, he couldn’t make it go away. God, the last thing he wanted to do was actually hurt you.

“Yes, Ken,” your head fell back against the wall when he bucked his hips up unto yours, the thin fabric of his boxers not doing anything at all to hide how hard he was.

“You’d tell me if I was hurting you?”

“Yes, Ken,” you repeated.

“Aren’t you going to tell me you should be studying?”

“Need a break anyway.” You sighed, angling your hips a little to try to get better leverage of him rubbing against your folds. “You feel good.”

Against his usual judgment, Ken pulled his cock out of his boxers and tested his tip against your opening before he tried fingering you to see how wet you were for him. Your hands clamped his shoulders tighter.

“Do you think you can take me right now?” He breathed into your ear and you giggled because it tickled a little.

“I can try,” you said, one hand traveling to grip the back of his neck as he started to slide into you.

Your cry was loud, and Ken’s mind once again quieted for a single moment, and he bottomed out in you as he experienced one more second of relief.

“I need her loud,” he had confessed as the session was ending earlier that day. “It’s the only thing that ever fully drowns any of the bullshit out.”

He thrust up hard again and your forehead fell into his, your eyes closed, focusing on your breathing as he stretched you out a little sooner than you probably should have been. His hips started snapping into you in a quicker pace.

“Can I lay down,” you shuddered as the pain became more pleasurable. “Wanna be comfy with you.”

“Need you. Need you right here for just another minute.” Ken tried to slow his thrusts but struggled for control as he tried fucking that image from his nightmares out of his mind.

His head hurt from all of the stress he’d been trying to process from the day. His head fell into your shoulder, closing his eyes, your moans becoming louder as he tried angling himself to hit your special spot. He left wet kissing along your neck, hoping it would help dull any pain you might still be dealing with, and when his name fell from your lips in a blissed out sigh he sucked gently on your pulse point.

The nightmare slowly melted from his mind’s eye and he slowed his thrusts until he had stopped completely, staring into your eyes.

“You’d tell me if I ever hurt you, right?”

You nodded. “You’ve never hurt me, Ken.”

He carried you to the bed, laying you down gently.

He had been saving a special something for you, something he had wanted to use on a special night, maybe after he finally took you out on a proper date. But he needed to hear you, see you react to it now. Maybe that was selfish of him. For the moment, he had lost the motivation to care.

“Close your eyes,” he asked, kissing your temple, and you smiled, doing as he asked.

You heard a buzzing sound and felt yourself becoming wetter. You hadn’t told him but you’d used the vibrator on yourself in the shower while he had been in therapy, loving a moment of personal release where you didn’t have to think about anything for a moment.

Your eyes shot open when you felt the strong vibrations covering your clit… all the way down your vulva, sliding into your opening. Your body jerked and you grabbed one of Ken’s forearms as he leaned himself onto the bed with his hand but remained upright enough to watch the way your opening clenched around the toy.

“Holy…ahhh.what…”

It was one of those vibrators were it had a clit stimulator but curved downward so it had a dildo attached to it that could slide inside you and stay without having to be held. The stimulation against your g-spot was delicious but automatically a little overwhelming, your vision going dizzy for a second while you worked to adjust.

Ken leaned over you fully, pressing your hands into the bed beside your head, wrapping his fingers in your own.

“Do you like it?” He asked.

It filled you up enough to compare to two of his fingers while having almost more of an intensity than it was when Ken nipped at your clit.

You nodded, gasping, and he smiled down at you, kissing your lips.

“Gonna make you feel so good,” he promised, slowly starting to kiss down your sternum.

“Alright, I’m going to ask you a hard question, Ken.” The therapist laced his fingers together. “What if she does end up leaving?”

“You don’t have the right to say that out loud.”

“It’s probably a good idea for us to address this idea head-on. Ignoring it, stuffing it inside makes it worse.”

“How does it help if I think about it?”

“Intentionally bringing up fears and talking through him often makes them less scary. You’re able to conquer the biggest aspects of those fears, learn exactly what fuels the, so they become easier to deal with when they come up.”

“I don’t want her to leave.”

“I know, I-“

“I don’t want to think about it.”

“Our bed,” he mumbled, his lips attaching to your hip bone. “My y/n.”

You didn’t hear him, your ears filled with the buzzing from the toy.

God, you were perfect, writhing underneath him, even giggling a little as his wet kisses as they got to your stomach then going back to bunching the comforter up in your hands when the vibrator caused another spark of pleasure. Ken had made sure to lay out the comforter over the entire bed so you’d be extra comfy, like you had said you wanted.

“Well now I’m worried she’ll throw me out if I can’t stop acting like this.” Ken leaned his elbows onto his knees, his face in his hands. “Why would you put that idea in my head-“

“You already had it there, you told me so yourself.” Ken saw the therapist cross his legs through his fingers. He hated him. Not that he had done anything wrong…he just…he hated all of this.

“I couldn’t handle it. I don’t know how on earth I’d handle it.” Ken loathed how his voice choked a bit.

“Our goal is to make sure, to the best of our ability, that that will never happen.”

“I can make her stay.”

“Mine.” Ken flipped you over onto your stomach, the pressure of the toy being pushed onto your clit more intense from laying on it making you cry into the comforter. “All mine.”

He dipped a finger into you from behind, turning it upward to caress your muscle opposite the toy. You let out a strangled, throaty groan.

“What if she grows to hate me.” Ken’s words weren’t a question, they were as if stating a fact that was already coming into existence. He glanced at the clock. Why was time ticking by so slowly in this god awful therapy room.

“I do think this one is all in your head. Based on what you’ve told me, it sounds like you’d have to really go too far for her to ever hate you.”

“I’ll figure out how to make that not happen.”

“Unfortunately, we only have so much control over -“

“I will make sure that doesn’t happen.”

Ken slipped his belt from underneath the comforter, his hand almost shaking. Somehow marking you with his mouth was never enough for him now. He needed more. He needed you to react more, and lately his lips claiming your skin had made you relax more than anything. He wanted to be a comfort to you the same way you were to him. Somehow his brain wouldn’t let him see things that way, though. He didn’t know if he was ever truly a comfort to you.

You’d promised him he’d never hurt you. Thank god, because he was desperate for this release.

Your mangled scream filled the room as he bought the belt down, alternating cheeks, harsh and without pause. Usually he would wait a few seconds in between each for you to catch you breath, especially the first couple times. Today he saw red as the conversation with the therapist wouldn’t stop echoing in his mind, your legs shaking almost violently, your ass cheeks clenching as he kept finger fucking you alongside the vibrator.

Your body shuddered hard and you bit into the comforter, your throat raw from your screams as your orgasm hit out of nowhere. Ken didn’t even realize you hit your climax until he felt the way your muscle spasmed, knowing exactly the way you felt every single time you peaked with him inside you. Oh fuck, how on earth had he not seen that coming, heard the way your voice always hit a higher pitch right before it happened? He dropped the belt, focusing solely on the way his fingers touched you, his free hand pushing into your lower back as your hips bucked up into him.

“That’s my good girl,” he praised, loving how long this orgasm was lasting. “Come on my fingers as long as you need.”

Your entire body was shaking as you came down from your waves, Ken pulling his fingers out slowly, wrapping his lips around them.

“Ken,” you shivered. “The vibrator.”

“Mmhmmm?” He knew what you meant, but loved the way you were remaining in a zone of overstimulation. He leaned over onto you, pressing his hips into yours, his cock rubbing into your folds.

“Ahhhhh….no, please….”

“No, please, what?”

“Ken!”

“No, baby girl. I need you to tell me. Need to hear you say it.”

“Need a breather, please, please.”

Ken bit into your shoulder. “What if I don’t want to?”

Tears stung your eyes. “I’ll do whatever you want, for fuck’s sake. Just turn it off for a minute.”

That got his attention. He stood up and reached down to press the button and your tense body finally got to collapse fully into the mattress. Your ass was bright red, your fluids coating the toy and dripping down your pussy a little bit. Ken licked up the toy from the middle to your opening, pressing it a little harder into you, sucking on your opening. Your back arched and you made one of those kitten noises that always made him become impossibly harder.

God, he needed to fuck you. He had so many ideas now, his mind thankfully able to focus solely on you and what all he would do to you before letting you rest.

“Oh, god, please be gentle,” you whimpered as you felt your leg grabbed, knowing he was about to tie you up again.

“Just gonna make you feel good,” he promised.

You turned your head to see his eyes, a layered mix of anger and fear and….he was trying not to cry.

“Baby,” you said softly, your voice floating into his ears, and he looked at you. “What is it? What are you feeling right now?”

“Nothing.”

“It’s okay -“

“I don’t need to feel anything.”

“But you’re feeling a lot right now.”

He changed his mind. He’d tie you up later. He moved you onto your back and you kept your legs closed.

“Talk to me, Ken. Let’s work through this together.”

“Don’t want to talk about it. Want to fuck you.”

“You’ll get to -“

“We’ll talk later.”

“Promise?”

“Open your legs for me.”

“Ken -“

“Open. Them.”

You kept your legs closed, attempting to sit up but Ken leaned over you.

“I need your legs open, y/n.”

“You want them open.”

“No, I need it.”

You shook your head. “Not until you talk to me.”

Ken sighed. He dropped the belt you hadn’t notice he had been holding in his hand on the bed beside you and leaned on his forearms to kiss you.

“What are you feeling right now?” You asked against his lips.

That you’ll be gone when I come tomorrow from work. That this will be the last time I ever hold you, feel you, hear the noises you make because of me. “Nothing.”

“Baby, please.”

“Let me back inside you.” His eyes stared into yours. “I swear I’ll tell you everything later.”

“How much later?”

He kissed you deeply again, hand reaching to push itself between your folds. “Soon.”

You relented and relaxed your legs so Ken could pull them apart. The moment your wet, pink folds were visible to him, he brought the belt down in a single, stinging blow.

You weren’t sure how your body reacted other than you struggling for breath, your vision dark behind your tightly shut eyelids, an almost static-like audio blocking your ears from hearing anything else more a moment. You heard Ken’s voice bringing you back, feeling his weight on top of you.

“Such a good girl. You’re going to be fine. Ride it out for me. I’m here.”

Your eyes opened and a loud whimper escaped from deep in your throat.

“You’re going to feel so incredible in just a moment.” Ken’s voice was soft, trying to soothe you. He gently brushed a finger against your clit and you scratched at his back in response, trying to find any way to ground yourself, but then he moved down your body and licked his tongue up you.

“Touch me, please,” Ken asked, and without thinking your hands gratefully pulled on his hair, thankful for something to grip and jerk on. Ken hummed happily, going back to consume your core, and you wondered where he’d learned all of this, if he’d thought it up or if he had maybe read it somewhere.

Like the last time he spanked you before eating you out, everything was incredibly pleasurable, but today times ten, your body experiencing the intense pain somehow making the pleasure even greater, every nerve and fiber stimulated.

Your lower stomach muscles were clenching as he worked his magic, the build-up of your next orgasm almost painful, but still in the best way.

“Need you to come for me again. Need you nice and wet and relaxed.”

“Why?” You almost didn’t want to know, your body still working to process all of this.

“You’ll see.”

Your orgasm hit fast and hard again, barely able to come back down from your high when Ken inserted the vibrator again and turned it on. You felt like you were having to force your brain to focus to move your limbs as you tried reaching down to turn it off but Ken intercepted, grappling with your thrashing arms until he had them pressed into the mattress beside your head, climbing on top of you and holding one of your legs open and down with his knee gently so as not to hurt you.

“Baby, baby, I’ve got you.”

You screamed in frustration, trying to raise your arms to no avail. “What if I wasn’t letting you recover when you needed to?” You wailed.

Ken arched an eyebrow and smiled down at you. “You have.”

“Not THIS much.”

“True. You’ll have to surprise me with it sometime.” Ken carefully turned you over onto your stomach again, holding your arms behind you. “Just ride it out, baby girl. You’ve got this.”

“Pleeaasee Ken. Please, please, please.” You almost sobbed with relief when the vibrator was turned off although it remained firmly within you, deep inside your walls while still covering your clit.

“Okay, baby. It’s okay. Take your time.” Ken lay beside you, propped up on his arm, his fingers gliding up and down your back to soothe you.

He enjoyed the moment as long as his head let him. The quiet broken only by your jagged breaths and little noises as you worked to calm your body’s quivering, the softness and warmth of your skin underneath his fingers.

The voices began again, a sickening layered mix of everything he’d heard the therapist ask today. The one question threatening to overtake him completely, repeating itself, becoming more cruel each time he heard it.

“What if she does leave? What if she does leave? What if she leaves? What if she’s already left? She’s made the plans. She’s gone.”

Ken laid his head next to yours, brushing your hair out of your face.

“Tell me you love me.”

You mumbled something through your panting, your nails still gripping the comforter, trying to ground yourself.

“Please. I need it.”

“Love you.” The words were almost incoherent.

“Again.” Silence. “Please.”

“Love you.”

“I love you, y/n.”

Your eyes remained closed, feeling so incredibly tired that you were sure if Ken left you alone that you’d probably fall asleep within moments.

You felt your left leg being pulled toward the bed post again as the silky tie wrapped around it tightly then being attached to the post.

You can’t not be thinking about him when he’s not around, when you’re in class, when he’s at work…he wrapped the second tie around your right ankle, jerking a little harder than he meant to when he pulled the knot tight. He thought about you all the time, nonstop…he needed to make sure you always had a constant reminder of him.

He needed to make sure he made you sore.

The vibrator turned on again and your upper back grew tight as you felt like you might tear through the comforter while trying to hold onto something. You felt not one, but two of Ken’s fingers push inside you, your tight muscle stretching around them.

“How does this feel?” He asked.

“Ss..so..much…” You felt a third finger join his first two and your back arched. “I…so…full…”

“Mmmmmmm.” Ken watched at the way your muscle worked to relax around his fingers and the vibrator, being stretched out slowly. “I need to make sure you’re ready for me, remember?”

Oh. Dear. God. He wasn’t going to actually try and fuck you!!??!

“Ken, please think about this. You’re not going to fit.”

“That’s why I’m stretching you out with my fingers.” His free hand roamed over your lower back and ass. “I’m gonna fit inside you just fine.”

“But you won’t, though.”

“Just trust me.” He removed his fingers from you to spread your wetness around your ass hole, easily visible due to how wide your legs were being held open. He wouldn’t do anything without making sure you were okay with it, and he probably needed to wait for another day because he didn’t want to push you too much over your edge, but his focus kept snapping back to how this was the only area of you no one else had ever claimed before. No one else had touched you here, fucked you here. Maybe, if one day you relented, he could make you his in a way no one else had.

He tested just the tip of his thumb into that muscle and your legs went rigid.

“Is this okay?” He asked, genuinely wanting to make sure you were okay.

You were shocked how much it felt so good, a new pleasure you hadn’t exactly experienced before filling your entire lower region.

“Yes,” You breathed.

He rubbed his thumb just inside, moving it in small circles, and your vaginal opening clamped down onto the vibratory harder.

Fuucckk. Fuck fuck. Ken saw and heard how beautiful you’d be, experiencing anal sex for the first time with him, breaking you in by fucking you while fingering your virgin hole so you could orgasm around him before he’d sink his cock into-

No, focus here, now. He knew when you were nearing exhaustion and despite imagining how hot it would be to actually push you past what was comfortable for you because god, what if you loved it, what if he could pleasure you longer than usual after that, and he’d jerk himself off roughly in the shower while creating those scenarios in his head…he needed to make sure he kept himself in control, make sure you didn’t get hurt in any way.

He pulled his thumb out and pushed his throbbing cock against your opening partially taken up by the vibrator.

“Are you ready for me, y/n?”

“I don’t know,” you confessed, jerking against the leg restraints, wanting to plead for another break from the vibrator before going forward but also needing to feel exactly what this was about to be like.

“I’ll go slow.” He pushed his tip in then and you keened, Ken gasping loudly between how insanely tight you were, pressing into his member almost painfully, and the vibrator on the underside of his cock sending chills through his entire body. He gripped onto your hips, forcing himself still so he wouldn’t bottom out in you and hurt you. Your gasp sounded almost strangled, like you’d had the wind knocked out of you.

“Breathe, baby.”

“It hurts, ahhh, ugh, Ken, Ken…”

Please, please don’t make me stop, he thought. “Do I need to stop?”

Your voice was like velvet. “No. It hurts but it’s so fucking amazing.”

Ken pushed further inside, stopping again when your scream filled his ears - god, yes, please, so perfect, your voice only rising so loudly only for him - waiting for you to calm down a little again before going deeper.

He shut his eyes tightly trying not to cum right then. He’d never felt anything so tight, the vibrations exquisite, your voice finally fully drowning out all the awful fucking conversations and anxieties of the day. Finally, everything was quiet.

Finally, everything was just you.

He bottom out after the fourth time he thrust forward, needed to feel every inch of you as he leaned over you, holding himself up on his forearms. You lay groaning under him and he used his thumb to encourage the slightest turn of your head without straining your neck, kissing you so sweetly it felt contradictory to the amount of intense stimulation you were experiencing otherwise.

His thrusts were tender, almost intoxicated in nature, pulling almost all the way out before bottoming out inside you again, but everything somehow felt different this time.

You’d made love to him in the past, but he hadn’t been able to feel that “perfect” connection he kept hearing about in stupid romance movies, like it was some sort of magic that only existed in fiction. He didn’t know why today, but he finally felt connected to you. Like his lips were created specifically for yours and vice versa, your body only existed in this state of pleasure because of him, and obviously he had only ever felt anything like this with you.

You had tried to prepare yourself for Ken’s jealousy-fueled anxiety to consume him as soon as he cock was in you, his thrusts rough and his eyes blazing as you’d have to get used to the pain - albeit really, really good pain - until it subsided and everything only existed in a state of pleasure, but you hadn’t expected this: languid and sweet and god, you were thankful for it. You’d never been stretched this much, never had someone somehow this deep inside you, even if it only felt like it was the deepest you’d ever felt.

His hips picked up their pace but only a little, your bodies somehow seeming to move as one. Ken’s head fell into the pillow right next to where you were facing him, wanting to watch you but his eyes closing, feeling a little overstimulated himself.

“You’re being such a good girl for me,” he panted into the pillow. “You’re always so fucking good to me.”

“I need to come, Ken.” Your voice was weak.

He opened his eyes then. “Tell me what you need.”

He fucked your through your orgasm, sucking on your neck hard to mark you on this special occasion as your muscles clenched and spasmed in such a way that if you weren’t tied up and held down under Ken’d bodyweight that you would have ended up in the fetal position from your body automatically trying to curl up and away from how intense everything was.

Your whimpers mixed with a couple tears that rolled down your cheeks sent Ken over the edge, him finally losing what little control he’d held onto as he bottomed out into you over and over again until the waves calmed, and his body shook on top of your trembling frame.

He wanted to stay there and just kiss your neck and back, losing himself in you while his head swam with the aftermath of his pleasure, but he forced himself to stand up and pull himself out, removing the vibratory from you.

“Are you okay?” He asked, your body still shaking, because usually you’d have been able to calm down more by now.

“Y,y yes,” you stuttered. “Need…I don’t…kno-“

Ken ripped your ties off and turned you onto your back, your limbs limply falling onto the bed.

“I’ve got you,” Ken promised. He turned on the shower and coaxed you to sit up, your full bodyweight leaning against his chest while he held you after he’d brought you a glass of water.

He carried you into the shower and had tossed in one of those fruity scented shower bombs that you always loved after a long day at school. He crossed his legs in a way to where he could cuddle you while you rested on his lap without having to sit on the cold tile floor, and held your head tenderly while you leaned against him, bordering back and forth between being awake and drifting off to sleep.

Had he intentionally exhausted you to this extreme of a point to make sure he wouldn’t have to talk about all these stupidly hard emotions like he’d promised he would? He would keep his promise, he couldn’t ever imagine lying to you, but he didn’t want to do it today. He couldn’t.

But he would, no matter how much he didn’t want to, as soon as you asked him.

“What do you want for dinner?” He asked, lips against your forehead.

“Mmmm…chocolate.”

He smiled. “Chocolate what? Cake? Ice cream? Just a bar of it?”

“Everything.” Your giggle was sleepy and weak, but it was perfect to him.

“Then I’ll get you everything,” he promised. “Also, whenever you’re ready to talk about it, I’d like to ask if maybe you’d like to go on a trip with me.”

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[prettynalilmagic]

ℙ𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝔸 ℂ𝕒𝕣𝕕: 𝕊𝕙𝕒𝕕𝕠𝕨 𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕜- ℝ𝕖𝕡𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕤𝕚𝕠𝕟

Decks: Considerate Cat Tarot Vol 2, The Dark Mirror, Tarot of Pagan Cats, The Wild Unknown Archetypes

This reading will be shadow work based on what exactly are we repressing and not aware of. And how to work through it with advice from me and tarot. Take everything as a small guide, tarot is a tool for guidance and not to see or predict the future.

Pile one

First things first, Go get therapy.

"Its not about choosing the chains.

Its about choosing them again and again."

Pile one welcome to your little section. So, I had a theme card for your overall shadow, which was Addicted. At first, I was troubled with finding out exactly what type of addiction was causing you to repress your shadow, and I kept pulling cards and I realized that your shadow is built on way too many situations that come back to your dissatisfaction from your life. Pile One your addicted to hating yourself. You have heavy cards that show me that there’s this feeling of self-inflicted despair. Your shadow emits contempt for life, you hate yourself and honestly hate life overall. The hanged Man in reverse shows me that you grew up very much internally, most of your experiences are based inwardly as you felt left behind on life. Everyone seemed to reject you. Your loved ones, and people who are supposed to be close, turned their backs on you at some point so in turn you did the same. The world rejected you growing up. Life showed you, that you aren’t deserving of love, so you internalized that and have subconsciously clung onto that delusion.

Pile one do you feel like nothing can change you? Nothing can fix you? That things will stay the same or get worse over time? Have you even thought about how you feel about yourself truly? When was the last time you willingly reflected on your own self-image? Do you think there's any motivation for you to live your life beyond what traps you? Going back to your theme card, your repression is very much self-imprisoned. You don’t see you can work through any internal conflict and you in turn have been chaining your own self to depression. Nobody is perfect, that's true, but self-discovery is beautiful however it's also difficult. This won't be an easy task.

Mentally, you’re at rock bottom almost every day. Do you dissociate a lot? Do you even know if you do? Because I recently discovered that I dissociate a whole lot throughout my life and have never known I was doing it. Human brains are truly mind blowing, it can take and hold so much stress and pain, then hide it away from us so when we don’t keep reliving and feeling all that hurt.

Nobody wants to struggle and be depressed, and our brain very much plays a part in helping us hide it away. Chances are you downplay or don’t care to think or consider your own shadow self.

I'm not fit to diagnose, but pile one look into Complex Trauma, C-PTSD, and being Shame Bound. Learn about various types of traumas, habits, and attachment styles on YouTube it will help you get a rough idea on understanding what you need to improve on without using therapy. However, please if you can, look into seeing a psychologist and a therapist.

I know life is super tough as it is for you and you might not be able to afford it but research if there's anything you can afford and if you truly have searched, look into self-help groups online and self-help programs as well. There are free eBooks you can illegally get, pirate that shit. Get a tarot deck for yourself and do shadow work readings. Also please stop reading all the dumbass future partner and next lover readings, invest love into your own damn self before investing it onto some person you most likely haven’t even met or aren’t going to meet. Sorry it's a pet peeve of mine. Chances are you’re reading this on your phone or computer, get on the notes app and write out that little ass of yours. Please there’s still so many ways to make your own mental stability easier on yourself. There's so much stuff you can do if you truly look into it, I recommend watching Patrick Teahan, Heidi Priebe, Psych2Go, and Kati Morton, they're my personal favorite therapy youtubers, and they can help you.

Okay going back to the cards, and not my own personal input, the hanged man in reversed also shows me that it was your environment growing up that has formed you into who you are. Life for you looked like everything was so big and almost outta reach for you to grasp, but you’re still here, you have developed habits that has made growing up easier, you learn to get by.

Which leads me to the present, you got the 9 of cups, meaning that your experiences have made you who you are. It ties back to all those built of moments of isolation and lack of love for yourself that you grew up with. Obviously when we grow up knowing others are treating or making you feel some type of way, you take from that and build your mindset on all those experiences.

This hatred is what we use to get by and we build ourselves up to work with our hatred. You know you felt like you are replaceable or have a deep fear of being left behind, we go outta our way to justify being the ones to leave others and replace other people with anything else to get that same feeling, until the same trigger happens. It's a never-ending cycle and growing up it can actually be helpful. As a child we only experienced all the heavy emotions and were not shown consistent or significant amount of effort for our needs, so we learn to not expect that and run away from anything that triggers that little child in you. No one was there to show love so obviously unhealthy habits and mindsets get developed and grow up with us and only gets worse and worse as time flies by. Pile one, you are depressed and hopeless but cheer up, just because your life hasn’t been the best does not equate to that being a set-in stone reality for the rest of your life.

You can make your own life better; the daughter of cups reverse shows me that there's this desire to play around with stuff, just do it. Stop thinking about it, do it. Fuck shit up, stop being afraid of messing stuff up, you think the ones who have hurt you stopped when they were making you feel not cared for or loved? Nope, so just have fun.

Do that fun hobby idea you been thinking about. Get messy with life, even if it is creating something very sloppy. You want to express yourself some type of way but feel like you shouldn’t? Well just do it, even if you feel like a joke or an idiot just try it and see how it feels. Even if you don’t necessarily want to do something or show off a different look or skill, and your more so afraid of making mistakes and not being perfect, just push that thought to the back of your head.

If you spill your drink and make a mess, guess what you can clean it up, you don't have to get mad at yourself or at the drink. Shit happens, and why should you submerge yourself into all the small things with these big emotions like anger and sadness. Relax and rest those pretty eyes. Which goes into your last main card, Four of Swords. Again, relax for once, don’t guilt yourself. Everyone who has it easy, allows themself to relax from time. Even if they don’t doesn't mean that you should do the same thing. Have fun, learn more about who you are and why you are here. There’s so much self-sabotage that goes unnoticed by everyone.

Learn from yourself, thank who you had to become to get to here, and learn how to work past that when that shadow side doesn't help you anymore. You don’t have to 100% love yourself to overcome your shadow. Because here’s the thing, you’re not overcoming it, you’re learning to accept it and work with it to do better. Your shadow is who you are and use it to your ability to grow. Pile one get outta here and watch some therapy videos pls, you will be happier even for just a second.

Pile Two

"What I can't have forever, I will have for a minute. What I can't have for a minute, I will hold to me for one second."

Hello pile two, welcome to your pile. I assume for the most part your shadow is not something you shy away from because quite frankly there's not a significant amount of repression that is being displayed; I feel like this kind of shifted into a little bit of a motivational reading from your guides to tell you about one specific flaw in you rather to tackle down one serious hindering issue.

You guys got two theme cards for your theme of the overall shadow side that you're repressing. I pulled Masquerade and Queen of my world, for you pile two. Both cards have one thing in common. Both are attached to the word Bargain. Which tells me that you tend to do the most to procrastinate the process of bad emotions or habits. Masquerade is all about living in the moment and doing everything in your power to savor and dwell into the fleeting moments you so desperately want to hold onto and stick to. Queen of my world is all about holding onto a facade that hinders the possibility of being seen as anything other than graceful and powerful. You also pulled the daughter of wands in reversed. Which tells me that you procrastinate as well, and you can honestly be very disorderly as well.

You repress your shadow self because of how uncomfortable you are for being seen as who you wish you could be.

You know when we live our whole lives trying to maintain a certain image, it can be so hard and honestly draining. It makes sense why you want to slack off and just live in the moment because maintaining the way you think you have to come off to other people is very draining and if you think about it, your facade is stressful weather you are or aren't aware of it. Having live off of short moments and a false persona is only going to fulfill you for so long, do you think pretending to be stronger, smarter, or fiercer than you really going to stop you from embracing your true inner strength? Because aren't you tired of always having to consistently perform? I don't know if you are even doing it for yourself because doing that for so long will tire you out and make you unsure of who you are deep down.

Pile two, I did pull the son of cups. Which is a very charming and very appealing person to be around, this just reinforces that you will be this at all times for everyone and everything. Given that this is the card that's supposed to represent your present reality, I believe that you are a very much cookie cutter desired person. Someone who is always on top of how you appear as. All I see is that there's this big grand facade of being this person that is so desirable and welcoming. Everyone wants to present themselves in a good light to an extent but for you pile two it's very apparent that this isn't a want for you, it is a need and you do whatever needs to be done to be this beautiful picture-perfect version of yourself, but your human, so guess what? You are at a point where you have to chill out and learn to be yourself, not the ideal version at all times. It's okay to not be what everyone else wants you to be, or what your parents want you to be or whoever else you want to idealize you. You're a human, you're only capable of so much, you're flawed, and you can want to do or partake in things that are different from what should be expected from you. 

I pulled The High Priestess in reversed for you as clarification for Son of Cups.  Which tells me that you are a very spiritual person, which would make sense, you are reading a tarot reading. Besides that, it brings up to light that your inner self is not being done justice.

Do you even understand who you truly are? Not what you think you have to be to maintain approval.

This facade habit is not aligned with your highest potential. Because face it, do you think you will be happy for the rest of your life pretending to be something that isn't the real you? Just because others think you will be does not make that idea a reality, stop deceiving your true potential.

I don't want to assume but my guess is you may or may not have immigrant parents that have kind of forced this urgency to be a certain way to please them. At the end of the day, you know how you want to be or wish to be. If you don't relate to that portion obviously disregard it, it could be anything from grades, skills, and appearance. Maybe it's a controlling figure, which could be a lover or a person in power over you causing you to feel like you cannot be authentically yourself. 

The next card for you is Chariot, which is all about heading straight to where you want to be. Who you want to be. Nobody is going to be able to do it for you. You have built a wonderful mask for yourself for so long that it'll be hard to take it off and learn what you look like when you aren't wearing one. It will be unnatural to you at first, but you will get used to it. You got this pile two. I hope the best for you beautiful. 

Pile Three

"I cannot recognize myself. But I'm still me."

Welcome to your reading Pile three. I pulled two oracle cards; Downcast Pride and Is this Me, which the purpose is to reflect on the main themes of your reading. Is this Me is associated with the last stage the Dark Mirrors Oracle grief cycle, which the stage of acceptance, whereas Downcast Pride is associated with the depression stage.

Which brings up the primary point- your shadow self that is being repressed, is your own lack of attachment to joy or fulfillment for your life. This pile does remind me a lot about pile one, as both were attached to the stage of depression. There's been this emptiness in our lives for so long, that we become very dull in life and don't bother to work or see things in a way outside of that empty feeling. Yet, on contrast to pile one, pile three is more so at the phrase of depression morphing into the stage of acceptance. Pile three has wisdom and more insight compared to both previous piles. Pile three you have this inward recognition that everyone is within means of having the capacity to alter your method of thinking and act based on that. You're the more self-aware pile so congratulations on that. I got the High Priestess reversed, Nine of Cups reversed, and Two of Swords as the cards to represent what is being repressed from your past. Nine of Cups was the overall main card for the first question and when it's in reversed I read it as dissatisfaction despite all the opportunities that have been given to us. Perhaps, we overestimated what should be given or granted to us and are disappointed that we don't feel satisfied even if our needs have generally been met. In other words, even though you didn't have the worst hand in life, you're not content. It's possible, you have taken your status, or a piece of your own identity for granted. Given the length of time we have used certain facets of our identity for so long, or maybe even briefly; our perspective of our identity can very much be impacted with that facet we once were attached to and what we used to represent. And it also plays a significant role in preserving our happiness and contentment. Now, this "opportunity" or fragment of identify has gotten away as time gives space for it to vanish off. Life is all about change, it's difficult to accept yet we can't and shouldn't allow it to dictate our personal fulfillment. Change is devasting but so is self-pity, a little self-pity is healthy for you, too much is detrimental for us to expand ourselves onto newer and better things. This could mean anything, such as growing up thin and gorgeous. Years go by and now you've gained more weight than you like, eyes have become dull and wrinkly skin has formed in the corners of your eyes, forehead, arms and almost your entire body. Maybe you're blaming yourself for not earning as much money or for not being able to get the same level of love, appreciation or attention from other people. It could be anything—even a passion that ignited a fire in your life that has gradually faded over time. (Mind you, I am not saying that if you picked pile three you have to be old enough to be worrying about wrinkles or having to make more money from the previous year, any age group could pick this. School, family and mental/physical illnesses can be factors as well not just time itself.) Two of Swords also brings up a different point, that highlights being at a standoff with decision-making. Pile three, did you make a lot of decisions based off of what someone else told you was better or what would best suit someone else? Two of swords displays a lot of lack of self-assurance and I think that part of your fulfillment that's displayed from Downcast Pride roots from not being more assertive in your own personal decisions. The High Priestess is a very spiritual card, and as it is included in the spread's earlier sections, I interpret this to mean that either an inner wisdom has been present but has been clouded by the lack of purpose and achievement. You have potential, but with all this chaotic energy, you have suppressed a lot of this fulfillment. Even after all this time has passed and you still feel as though you are in the same place in life. How come you never knew or tried to figure out what you wanted to do? You're not content and have felt like happiness and fulfillment hasn't been present in life. Pile three, it has to feel devastating for you.

Another way that I’m reading the high priestess is that the high priestess is all about our inner calling and inner wisdom. Based on the other two cards, I would say that this is what is blocking off all this magical, inner wisdom being brought up. Meaning, we must solve our own issues to let our inner voice be shined. Seek assistance from anyone or any place that might help you becoming more aware of your inner reality.

You also got the Son of Cups and Judgement reversed. Which just reinforces what I said the previous paragraph. Son of Cups represents a charming and idealistic person that everyone loves and desires. Whilst Judgement reversed is highlighting missed opportunities and failure. Failure to be the Sun of Cups. Failure to grow past who you used to be.

Mourn your past. Accept it’s not with you anymore. Move on so you can grow. I am aware it’s easier said than done, but it still needs to be addressed.

Lamenting over who you wish you still were, or where you want to be is rather pointless. Stop wishing for something thats now unattainable for you. Look for the new you, answers and solutions for yourself. Morph into something better so that the old you would’ve been jealous of new present you. When you think about it, it’s actually good that some things cannot be changed because then there’s a plethora of options for growth and numerous outcomes for who we can be.

Now, I pulled Father of Swords, for advice for you to help you work through accepting your shadow self. This card is pretty straightforward, Father of Swords is a very authoritative and is someone who strives onward. He’s also someone who’s very logical and knows that in order for blessings we have to work and set ourselves up for blessings. He does what he has to do to get to where he wants to be. He dosn’t live in the past, he lives in the present while working for the future. Spirt wants me to tell you to do the same so you can work through your repression of your shadow.

[bomber-grl]

Nico Di Angelo x Son of Nemesis 🥀

Pairing(s): Nico Di Angelo x male!reader

Ps used some of the fanon powers since they’re cool

You’re a child of nemesis and it’s to be expected that you’re probably on your own and don’t have much siblings

Surprise

Well ofc Nico never took note of you

He was going through his own thing but it was only when he began reflecting that he turned to you

It wasn’t easy to turn to a complete stranger but since your godly parent is nemesis- well he just assumed you could sense his want for revenge or sum idk he didn’t really think it through, ok??

And you? You laughed at him

He knew it was too silly and stupid and was about to grumble away before you held him back and offered him your help

Which he accepted with some reluctance

I mean you didn’t really know how to go about basically giving him some therapy but in the end it never really was about his issues

You two just became used to being around each other naturally and he was able to improve on his own.

It was a surprise that the two of you even interacted, you’re known to have an intimidating aura- not to mention your rare ability of controlling someone’s luck so 🤷‍♀️

Of course your godly parent gives you a bad rep but you never really cared for it

And neither did Nico, he knows how it feels

That’s particularly what gets you closer

You both were sorta disliked all the time, Nico because he’s a child of hades and you?

Mostly because the majority of your siblings left to be on Kronos side of the war….🧍‍♀️

It was sorta a sore topic and was particularly why it was awkward for others to be around you

But Nico being Nico, well he never payed much attention to it

Looking back it was ridiculous to think that you could ever be a therapist for him and you still tease him about it till this day

But you have a lot of things in common

A particular one being grudges

Nico holds them and despises whoever crosses him

But you? You take it up a notch and make plans to enact revenge

Maybe it’s a bit over the top

But who cares?

It’s not your fault you always remember insults or wrongs against you

Honestly I feel like in this world you really get to know someone once you fight alongside them

And boy does Nico fear and have a new found respect for you now

Your powers consist of using vengeful emotions and manipulating them to the greatest extent

And even when someone has great hate for someone, well you can twist it and make them use it to take revenge

It’s a pretty useful power to get your comrades to fight with all they’ve got

And you use it on yourself too, but had you known Nico would be affected the way he was, well you wouldn’t have done it

You had been fighting some monsters while you were traveling back to Camp half-blood

You both decided to head on back from your little vacation at your house but on the way back herds of monsters just began going at you

Your guess? They hadn’t seen a couple of demigods in a hot minute

Well regardless you fought as one does except for the fact that Nicos summoning of the dead was a bit more uncontrolled than usual

Yup, he actually lost full control

Hurray

I mean he almost took you down with him

If you didn’t immediately take away your influence who knows what else he would’ve done

Just goes to show how much emotions he’s got bottled up I guess

It’s sort of awkward from here on out

Well, maybe only on Nicos part

He was afraid you’d run away and never look back if he were to show you the more scarier aspects of his powers

Which like, Nico honey

There was plenty of time to do so before

Of course you give actual reassurances to him but yknow alls well that ends well

I think a son of Nemesis x Son of Hades is a pretty interesting dynamic considering the similarities

Honestly you’d never be too hard core for the other

You feel deeply, Nico feels deeply

(Yknow feelings of hatred but still)

Maybe that means you understand it on a deeper level, maybe it’s the exact opposite

So much potential

[dewdropdinosaur]

Bound to Break Boundaries

HUSK X READER Summary: Y/N is the Hotel's desk clerk but in reality the unofficaly therapy friend. But even therapy friends need therapy so what happens when Y/N gets fed up? Warnings: Mentions of therapy and alcohol. Rating-PG For the amazing @gxstiess Also part inspired by @irkimatsu blurbs which I adore 😅 Requests Open - See Masterlist for Details

In the heart of Hell, the Hazbin Hotel stood as a beacon of hope for the damned. Within its eccentric and chaotic walls, there was one individual everyone turned to when their sins and sorrows weighed too heavily: Y/N, the hotel's front desk clerk but in reality the unofficial therapist. Her room, cluttered with mismatched furniture and flickering candles, was a sanctuary where demons came to unload their burdens.

Every day, Y/N listened to the rants of the hotel's inhabitants. The hotel's ragtag group of residents had come to see her as a beacon of calm and understanding amidst their endless turmoil. Every day, demons and lost souls would seek her out, eager to unload their problems and frustrations. Whether it was Angel Dust's relentless complaints about his latest escapades or Alastor's cryptic musings, Y/N listened with unwavering patience, offering advice and a compassionate ear.

Yet, as the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, the weight of everyone else's problems began to take its toll on Y/N. She was always there for them, always ready to help, but no one ever seemed to notice when she was struggling. The endless cycle of listening and advising started to wear her down, chipping away at her own sense of well-being. A day will typically contain the following: 

Angel Dust comes bursting into the room, dramatically throwing himself onto a couch. "Y/N! You would not believe the day I've had! That slimeball Valentino tried to mess with one of my gigs again. Ugh, he just can't leave me alone!"

"I'm sorry to hear that, Angel. What happened this time?"

"He sent one of his goons to 'remind' me who I belong to. Can you believe that? I told him where he could stick his reminders, but it's getting exhausting."

"I know it's tough dealing with him. Have you thought about what boundaries you can set or how you can stay out of his way more?"

"Boundaries? In Hell? Ha! You're a real optimist, Y/N."

Or something like this: 

"Y/N, I'm really struggling to keep everyone's spirits up. I just want to help everyone find a better path, but sometimes it feels like no matter what I do, it's not enough. Do you think I'm doing the right thing?" Charlie cries into one of the soft pillows Y/N keeps on the “therpay” couch. 

"Charlie, you have such a big heart and you're doing your best. It's natural to feel overwhelmed sometimes, especially with a task as monumental as this."

"Thanks, Y/N. It's just hard to keep going when it feels like we're making so little progress."

"Small steps can lead to big changes. Don't lose hope."

Or like this: 

“Y/N, I can't stand it anymore! Alastor is driving me up the wall with his constant meddling. How am I supposed to keep things under control with him always undermining me?"

"That sounds really difficult, Vaggie. Have you tried talking to him directly about how you feel?"

"I have, but he just laughs it off or turns it into some twisted joke. It's infuriating!” 

"Mybe we can come up with a different strategy together. You shouldn’t have to handle it alone."

One evening, as the sky burned a deeper crimson and the hotel hummed with restless energy, Y/N found herself overwhelmed. Vaggie had stormed into her room, venting about Charlie's latest overly optimistic scheme. Before she could even catch her breath, Niffty appeared, anxiously rambling about a mess she couldn’t clean up. When Angel Dust burst in, dramatically recounting another altercation, Y/N felt her patience snap.

“I can’t take this anymore!” she finally exclaimed, her voice shaking. “I’m not a bottomless pit for everyone’s problems. I need a break!”

There had always been one person in the hotel who never seemed to darken Y/N’s doorstep or in this case, therapy couch. Husk tended to keep to himself, serving also as a pseudo therapist for the more alcholically inclined patrons of the Hotel. Maybe he could offer some advice, because he never seemed to tire of other’s issues at least that s how it seemed to Y/N. 

"I told you, kid, I ain't interested in your therapy sessions. But if you must know, the bar's been low on stock, and running this joint is a pain in the tail. Happy?"

"I understand, Husk. Running the bar is a lot of responsibility, and it sounds like you're dealing with a lot of stress."

"Shut up with the therapy crap. Just gotta keep pouring the drinks and hope for the best."

With a sigh and a deep sip of a glass of some strange amber liquid she didn’t bother asking the name of, Y/N softly spoke up. 

"Husk, I don't know how much more of this I can take. Everyone just keeps unloading on me, and it feels like no one even notices that I might need a break too."

"You've been everyone's rock for so long, kid. It's okay to need a break yourself."

"But who am I supposed to talk to when I’m the one feeling down?"

He poured himself a drink and took a sip, his gaze thoughtful. “You’re a good kid, Y/N. Too good for this place sometimes. But even good people need to look after themselves. Otherwise, you’ll just end up as broken as the rest of us. I ain’t too good at the advice part but I am here to listen if you need it kid.”

The unexpected comfort in Husk’s words brought a lump to Y/N’s throat. She hadn’t realized how much she needed someone to tell her it was okay to take care of herself. “Thanks, Husk. I really needed to hear that.”

He gave a gruff nod. “Anytime, kid. Now, drink up and take a damn break. Let someone else handle the chaos for a while.”

Y/N smiled, a genuine, relieved smile, and raised her glass. “To boundaries and breaks.”

Husk clinked his glass against hers. “To keeping our sanity, one drink at a time.”

As she took a sip, she felt the weight on her shoulders lighten, just a little. For tonight, at least, she could breathe easier, knowing she wasn’t alone in this hellish hotel. And maybe, just maybe, she could find the strength to set her own limits and reclaim a bit of peace amid the chaos.

[thatbitchery]

Jordan Peterson says there's a pandemic of 'careless therapy' in the west and I fully agree. The idea is most psychology and psychiatry practices especially in the west are married by the early 70s *You Are Okay Just The Way You Are* flimsy surface level self esteem boost bullshit that isn't helping anyone. Why is this even important - it is absolute bs. The amount of people that I have known to be in therapy for YEARS and the only thing that changes is their self concept is actually scary, because western therapists are taught in the Wokeism bs of self affirming pumped up dumb ideologies that do not help.

You pay for problem solving.

The reason you pay someone is to solve a problem you have, not just diagnose it. Yes your therapist telling you you have PTSD is good for you yay now you have a name for it BUT if they don't tell you how to deal with it what was the point of the diagnosis?? Nothing has changed you still suffer you just have a name for it. Most of you will talk to me about *I started going to therapy* and the only thing you do in that little room is talking about your past- what's the point??? You already know your past, if they are not giving you solutions wrap it up and find a therapist that actually knows what they are doing and isnt marred by the egoistical western approach to life of me myself and. Even back in uni my Psychology professors were the most careless of the bunch, trying so hard to not get canceled soieting around things that actually affect life trying to reinforce the idea that all you need is to believe in yourself. Everyone that doesn't agree with you is toxic and you should be able to scream at your parents and bosses and get away with it because you have a right to opinion- I even skipped those classes. Took me changing my therapist 4 times to land to my now realistic stoic therapist that actually tells you the truth (she's in her late 50s, so maybe there's that).

If the people you are paying to solve your problems are not telling you how to solve those problems- you fire them. If your therapist is sounding like something a 15 year old tiktoker would say you fire them and find your money's worth. If your money is on the table you get solutions. Knowing you have daddy issues is great- now how do you deal with that? Will they give you practical solutions to do on your days to day basis?? Do these solutions make sense in a realistic POV?? Does your therapist telling you you should be able to express yourself so shouting at your mom when you live in her house is okay make sense to you??? Is it even realistic?? She is trying to not lose her license so she'll tell you what she needs to say to keep it, but if it's not helping you what's the point?? It's not like it's 10£ that you can just burn is it??

If you do not see actual tangible results that are not only in your head in two months you fire them and move on. It's crazy how everyone in my dms has a therapist but doesn't know how to deal with things so simple because all you do is sit in a cozy little room for an hour and talk about your past. Its YOUR past you already know it what's the point of paying all that to trauma dump when you can do it online for free??

Mentorship is the ONLY space you can go home without seeing results because it's free. You do not pay your mentor and you should be grateful for their time. When it comes to everyone else, your money on the table means results. If you've had a life coach for more than two months and you can not see real time tangible results you fire them and find another, that's wasting your money and time. Felling good will not make you a millionaire will it? If your dietician doesn't hand you a meal plan within your budget that gives you results in two months you fire them.

Results. And feelings are not results. *I feel better about myself now and understand where my pain is coming from* good for you, now what. What's next. Now what??? How is that helpful. *I'm okay I'm just autistic* good for you I know the relief of finding out you are not the problem, your brain is . Now what. What next. How will you live with that and still achieve your goals?? Whats next?

This is why in my books,Behavioral Therapy (CBT / DBT) are the most practical forms of therapy. Actual solutions. Actual tools for your day to day living. Not just talking and diagnosing (these are helpful yes) but actual solutions that work. How will knowing you have CPTSD help if you do not have the tools to deal with it? What's the point??) it's just a name.

Careless psychology is a pandemic, and a waste of time, money and energy. If you do not have actual tangible real time solutions in a month fire them and hire a stoic life coach. It's better.

Solutions. That's what money is for- buying solutions.

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