#truly the Wild West of therapy

[queercatcave]

Most therapists: I had my client identify their emotions and decide on a coping skill to practice this week.

Exposure therapists: I had my client cover themself in dirt and threaten to hurt me.

[heartshapedbubble]

YOU GUYS WOULDN'T BELIEVE WHAT I JUST FINISHED⁉️⁉️

(jokes aside this chapter is heavy and when i say heavy i mean HEAVY it's the heaviest chapter ive wrote for now please read the tws and take care mwah)

childhood friends, a d.m. fanfic🐍// chapter 3

TW // descriptions and mentions of abuse, death, blood n gore (can get graphic so be careful), gender of reader not specified, sulphur hater community gonna go wild after this one, im inconsistent as fuck with the writing and the lore god save us, no proofreading we die like men, literally angst/trauma then fluff then i proceed to wreck incredible trauma upon desire, put your seatbelts on for the last part because oooh boy, teen desire angst mhm, desire needs therapy, me when i ignore the canon (sigma)

-------------------------------------------------------

A crumpled diary entry, the sides messily torn off and a lot of words aggressively scribbled over. The handwriting starts off neat and in a posh cursive, yet as the writing progresses, it turns to a manic, almost deranged shaky hand, a mix of unfinished sentences and unknown keywords, the paper wobbly and the ink blotchy due to the fact that it was sodden with the author's tears. The date is unreadable.

~

Today, it's my 17th birthday.

Today, it's also 6-years-and-something of my confinement inside the house. I stopped keeping serious track of time a while ago - I realized that thinking of it made me feel even worse than usual.

I still clearly remember the day when it all started. When i started descending into madness as all of my thoughts began to be blocked off one by one by hardcover books and the well-maintained white walls - I still harboured the fading pink scar on my palm. Yet, the worst scars were the ones on my psyche. They were like scabs - instead of forgetting what happened and letting myself heal, I did the exact opposite. I kept tearing apart the healed wound, reliving what I knew I should forget and what I can't fix. It fueled me, such bland and dull anger. I would scream, shout, dig my nails an inch deep into my skin upon the resurfacing memory, shunning my younger and my current self, while being fully aware I could never escape the situation nor now nor then. It's the worst kind of anger, the one that both riles you up and leaves your chest aching at the same time. It's not even the anger - it's the feeling of inevitable helplessness that you try so hard to hide. Beneath my thin veil of teenage angst and aggressive outbursts, I knew what i truly was. I saw the real me every night, hearing myself break down the second I locked myself in my room.

Even if he took my freedom, even if we had dinner together, even if I spent 10 hours a day studying thick textbooks that he spent thousands on, I could never see him as "dad". He never was one to begin with, so his countless attempts to make me consider him one were fruitless. I quickly forgot the burning feeling on my hand when he first hit me since he quickly resorted to physical violence as time went by. Cursed him under my breath as he passed by? You could bet his hand was tangled in my hair and my head was about to become one with the cupboard. Yelled back at him as we went for a walk together? His hand clenched my wrist with all its might and I felt like my bones could burst through my fingertips with each second he held it.

I looked out the window as I recalled. It was a sunny day, the beautiful flowers reaching over the fence from the neighbor's - their - garden. I opened the windows to soak up the sweet scent of lavender and lilac that the wind rolled over and waved around from side to side, north to south, east to west. As I savored the fresh fragrance, I caught a glimpse of my face in the surface of the glass. Two bright blue beads staring back at me and my uncombed hair framing my face. Nothing much has changed in my appearance, except my once chubby face thinning and sharpening with time and my shoulders growing wider. I was never lucky with my teeth, though - one of my canines grew over the incisors and made it look like a clumpy fang of sorts, as if I took a sucker punch to the jaw. It was a big insecurity of mine present even when I was a child and would spend hours in front of the mirror sometimes, making grimaces and running my tongue again and again over the bulging mass of teeth. I've kind of started ignoring it while growing up, but I can't say it's something I like about myself either.

After getting dressed, I headed towards my father's office. The hallway of our villa was long and quite plain for such a big, fancy house. Most gilded decorative motifs on the cupboards faded and a lot of paintings were removed, leaving behind rectangular grayish stains and nail holes. My footsteps were now muffled by the thick dark blue carpet spreading itself from the entrance to the small altar at the end of the hallway. "Altar" is how my father calls it, yet to me it was just a worn-out vanity with empty photo frames scattered on the desk, its drawers locked and the mirror dirty. I swore I saw him inspecting something in front of it, but maybe I was just imagining things.

At 11 a.m. I was already knocking at his door and inhaling the smell of printer paper, disgustingly expensive coffee and polished wood. Although the sun was shining and the window was open, he remained sat at the edge of his table, the shadows looming not over him, but with him. Knowing what follows next, I went and sat myself across the table. As I pulled my chair closer to the edge, I heard him whisper:

"No no no, come sit over here. We're going to do it a bit...differently today."

Not moving a bit, he just nodded towards a leather chair to his right. Taking my time, I scooted over to him and forced myself to look into his eyes.

"Did you eat today?"

"Not yet. I kind of slept over."

"That's no good." He stared into the textured glass of the cabinet door. As I grew up he started to get worse at talking to me. Eventually, my daily visits to his office became unavoidable small talks.

"Your exams?"

"What's with them?"

"You passed all of them?"

"Yeah."

"Wonderful to hear. Great." It was, as always, insincere. Whenever he complimented me there wasn't a change of tone or mood, he said it just as flatly as he said everything else. In fact, he kind of treated it like a chore.

"What's next?"

"Hm?"

"I mean, what's next after high school? I already passed everything in advance. Am I going to receive college education at home?"

It seems like that triggered a spark in him - he leaned forward, our faces now at equal height.

"I actually wanted to talk to you about that today. I already thought about that and, well, the answer is quite clear. You'll be inheriting my business."

And that's when it hit me - at that moment, I realized that in my 17 years of age I never thought about what my father does for a living. He had a lot of fancily-dressed people over often and he was rich, so it was clear to me that his job paid well. What he worked on, I never researched. When I was younger, I used to lay down on the staircase and watch over him from behind the balusters. I saw his men bring in various oil paintings, collections of coins and stamps, marble busts of emperors and philosophpers, ceramic medallions and other artistic pieces that I thought of as simply luxurious and over-the-top decoration. What I do remember clearly, though, is that whenever the two of us would go outside together he had to run some errands in the museums or galleries. From my cut-up memory I deduced that my father was some sort of curator.

"What business? You never really... talked about your job. Besides, you're not that old! I don't understand why you would retire at fifty-something. And even with my advanced education, I don't think I have the qualifications."

"Showing you the ropes is the easiest part."

"I barely just finished high school. You really do have high expectations for me, huh?"

"Why wouldn't I? You're my son, after all. Everything is already planned out."

"But your career is already quite great. Why drop it now during the golden years?" I realized mid sentence that I was treading on scarily thin ice. One badly formed statement and my shirt collar is going to be in his hands. Sulphur had his tolerance and his boundaries, and once they were stepped over a few too many times, things could get ugly. Very, very ugly. I was no exception to this.

He clicked his tongue. "Everything has its own reason. It's not important for you to know why, and all you need to do is sit up straight and get your hands on this opportunity. You know well how many grubby little hands would fight tooth and nail just for a shabby position in my field. You should be more grateful and tone down your curiosity a bit."

"If it's not important, then I assume it's not harmful either. Is there any problem with me knowing why?"

"Stop being so nosy." He murmured.

He suddenly got up and shut the half-open window.

"Do not question my actions. I am your elder, and elders ought to be respected. Soon, you'll be sitting in my office chair, signing papers and sorting them instead of me. Phone calls and documents. It's everything you can get hang of in a minute. Now, shut your mouth and go to your room. You're free until tommorrow. 11 a.m. as usual."

I didn't go to my room. I didn't even flinch when he spit his venomous insults at me. Instead, I sat perfectly still, my eyes still locked with his.

"You sound very disturbed. What is it that is so unimportant that you don't want to tell me?"

This was the sentence that made Sulphur Mélodis snap.

~

"Listen to me Desire, listen to me!" He growled as his enormous hands reached for my neck. I writhed and fought back and even bit, but as long as his hands were choking me, he had absolute control.

"Let me go, you fucking jackass!" I spat into his face, fueling his anger even more. It worked counterproductively - he pulled me closer and closer.

"Listen. I don't have much time left. It's not important. You just have to-"

"JUST TELL ME WHAT HAPPENED, FOR FUCK'S SAKE!"

His voice became quieter. I could hear him breathe heavily between each word.

"It's them. They're onto me. Turned their backs on me. Backstabbed me. Once they find me, I'm dead meat."

"Who?"

"Them. The superiors. They decided I'm not good enough for them anymore. They can't benefit from me anymore. They think I'm a traitor. I fucked up. I fucked up so bad, Desire. They know where I live. Who I am. What I do. They know about you. They won't spare you if you get in their way."

"Wha... what will they do?"

"The worst thing you can imagine. Listen. I'm their primary target. As long as they get me down, they're going to be satisfied. If they break into the villa, hide somewhere. Stay quiet and once they leave, get out and lock yourself into the house. Take over my business with a nickname or something. A codename. Whatever. You have the butlers to assist you. They're already informed."

My stomach knotted. I felt sick.

"When? What? Why? I- how?"

"It could happen in a week. In a month. Eliminate me outside the house. Poison me. Stab me. Electrocute me."

He gulped, and for the first time in my life I saw something in his eyes. It wasn't guilt or sadness, it was fear. Pure, unfiltered fear seeping out of this giant of a man. If he wasn't who he was, I'd pity him.

"Listen. There is a boy. Out there. Waiting for you. He might arrive in a week or so. Take care of him. Take care of yourself. Teach him well. I trained you your entire life for this moment. You are the perfect heir. My perfect ... mirror image."

"What boy? Please! Tell me more! I need to know!" I couldn't let all the things I needed to know die with this man, the man who made my house a birdcage.

"PLEASE! Tell me about him! Tell me about my mother! Who are they?"

There were so many questions and too little time for answers. Looking at him in that pathetic, vulnerable state, I could feel sorry for that man. I really could. But such strong emotions were torn away from me with his own hands, being in the way of his idea of the "perfect heir". It was a fleeting rush of love before I looked at him again and remembered who he really was.

"Your b-"

That were his last words whispered to me, before his brains splattered across my shirt, his blood flowed down my legs, his entire weight rested upon me. His lifeless corpse, a bullet carefully aimed and shot through the window, a fatal hit to the head. I never returned back to his cabinet after that day. Locked and in eternal darkness, the body of Sulphur Mélodis rot and bled for years, the blood melting into the wooden planks and the bullet resting in his skull forever - like a pearl inside an oyster.

~

The boy was staring at an invisible dot on the wall. He was thinking. He slowly bit his thumb, and then, hesitatingly, looked up at me.

"Is dad here?"

It was hard to look at him. The same silvery lock of hair, the same greyish-black eyes. He reminded me so much of him, but he was softer, still somehow radiating childhood innocence out of the features I grew to hate.

"No. Dad is gone."

He bit his thumb again. A habit since infancy, I supposed.

"And mom?"

"I... there isn't a mom. I never met my mom. She left when I was young."

"I hope she was a good mom. I had a good mom when I was at the orphanage. She used to scold me for reading books at night under faint light, though. She said it's because I was hurting my eyes and that I would go blind."

"Oh. That sounds... nice."

"Was dad good? I don't remember much about him."

I didn't want to trouble him with my own burden at such a young age, so I just waved my hand. "It's not important. He's not here with us anymore, anyway."

"What's your name? I forgot to ask you. Sorry."

"Desire. Yours?"

"Saphir. Apparently my dad gave me my name. I guess he likes giving odd names."

"...I guess."

I didn't know how to talk to him. He was well spoken, for sure, but prone to zoning out and thinking all by himself. He reminded me of myself when I was his age - it made everything hurt even more.

"What are we going to do now?"

"Well, I don't know. I can make you a room up there. I'm not that good at cooking either, but I have recipe books up there. And a butler."

"It's okay. You'll do a great job." His hand reached out for mine. I couldn't help it but feel incredible love for the little guy at that moment. Such a small gesture, but it placed him close to my heart. I've never met my half-brother before, but even with such polarizing emotions at first it felt like I knew him for a long time.

The butlers and maids greeted the two of us as we sat by the dining table. Instead of sitting on opposing sides like I did with my father, we sat right by each other.

I got reminded of them. My friend. At least used to be, for a month or so. It has been years since we met. I tried to push them out of my mind to make place for everything else that my father considered more important, but they never really left. It was an unstable relationship - to appeal to my father I villainized them, yet when it was too much to take I idealized their childish, innocent kind of love they selflessly embraced me with. And even considering the fact that they were living in the house right next to mine, I never built up the courage to knock on their door again.

"So at that orphanage... what did you exactly do?"

"Ooh. Lots of stuff. Played around, did some basic schooling. I also practiced some martial arts. A lot of it, actually."

"Ah. Interesting. I did lots of studying here when I was your age. I even did fencing."

"That's so cool! This villa house thing is huge, it looks quite pleasant."

"Cool". They flashed in front of my eyes immediately. I looked at my little brother, lost in thought and silently staring at the cook dicing the vegetables. A melty embodiment of all the good and bad people I knew, I grew to love him unconditionally and try my best to give him the childhood I lost.

~

The following paper is messier and wobblier than the other two. After inspecting it better, it becomes obvious that this one was torn away and was part of the first paper. Yet, it was crumpled in a ball and thrown in the corner of the room - just behind the writing desk. Did the author simply not like the way they wrote it, or was it too much for them to process?

~

He laid motionless in front of me. His bloodshot eyes were unfocused and his jaw was relaxed. He was all mine, and I could do whatever I wanted with him. Step on his skull again and again. Bash his head with his own cane and ruin his face with its silver tip. Slice his chest open. His organs were still in tact - I could donate them. Do a good deed.

As I headed for the cane, everything flashed right in front of me. Everything I forgot, was forgetting and will forget. What I should have and shouldn't have forgotten.

The bruised palm. The bruised knee. The bruised arm - the bruised everything.

I remembered how he found out my ankles were weak and wobbly. Whenever I did poorly during our study session he'd quickly sweep my feet with the cane and watch me helplessly fall down the flight of stairs. It brought him so much laughter that he started to do it even when I did well. When I cried and held onto his coat to get up again, he'd push me again until I got up on my own.

I remembered him holding the blade by my leg as I practiced my handwriting. The second my lettering got wobbly he'd push it into my skin, and if I cried he'd push it even deeper.

I remembered that the second my hair grew long enough, he used it to yank me towards him when I tried to run away from him. He pulled me so hard that I felt like my scalp was bleeding.

I remembered when he sliced my cheek with a razor in rage, all because I wanted to ask him a simple question. It took months for the scar to fully fade.

I remembered him grabbing a pair of scissors during one of our worst arguments, trying to snip at my skin.

I remembered him violently banging on my door for hours when I ran away from him and locked myself inside my room.

I remembered reading medicine books self initiatively because plasters weren't effective anymore.

I remembered wrapping the cuts with paper tissues and tape when I ran out of gauze.

I remembered too much.

I threw my abuser's cane at the wall, ran to my room and cried, cried like never before. Even when I made sure he wasn't breathing anymore, I couldn't muster up the courage to get into a one-sided fight against his cold, dead body. Freed from my shackles, I remained a coward.

~

[trainwreckarollin]

Nerdfighters!!

So once upon a time in a year that was 2007, Hank and John Green (yeah, those internet-famous dudes) started a vlogging channel called vlogbrothers. In 2007, I discovered the community and truly found a place that felt like I belonged in it.

That era of the internet was a wild, amazing time, and I miss it.

Now, in 2023, Hank Green has cancer. And for the sake of nostalgia (and not because I think Hank is gonna die, because I don’t, because he has great doctors and a really good prognosis), I’ve started to rewatch those videos from the beginning.

And MAN does it feel like coming home.

So I didn’t have a super-great childhood. I was what we used to call a “latchkey kid” and what we now call “a child of emotionally neglectful parents”. It was a little worse than that in some ways, and in some ways, a little better. But at the time, I was a kid who spent most of their free time alone.

But I had the internet! And in 2007, the internet was a wild west of a place. I’m talking geocities and websites that literally anyone could make, but a with bunch of search engine sites that were fresh babies, you could get your silly fake website to the stop of a results page and lead an unsuspecting child to some wild misinformation.

Or, in my case, youtube videos about nerds. Fighting nerds.

As I go through these videos, I remember some of the in-jokes that still exist in the lexicon of John-and-Hank videos, and get to relive the birth of those moments, like the tiny chicken, or fishing boat proceeds, and of course, the most iconic, birth of the name and hand-symbol of Nerdfighters.

(This is where I would put a gif of the nerdfighter symbol IF I HAD ONE)

(Can I imbed a gif that tumblr doesn’t have? Can I--?)

...Link in the doobleydoo, if you’re a fellow Nerdfighter who gets it, but click and you get the Nerdfighter motion, it’s fine. It’s fine. 

ANYWAY 

Part of therapy is finding who you used to be, without getting too stuck on who you used to be. The part of you that dies when trauma happens doesn’t come back, but it doesn’t mean they are completely gone. It just means you will never be whole in the same way that you were before. But you can become whole again, just differently. 

Watching these two dudes in their late 20′s (I am OLDER than they were when they started WHAT) do silly things to create joy and decrease worldsuck, is incredible. And it’s also what I wanted to do with my life in the Great Before. I can get some of that back, if I remember what I loved about it in the first place. 

I hope so, anyway. Wish me luck, Void. 

And Don’t Forget To Be Awesome. 

-Red

[travelwithdeidre]

All Our Dreams Can Come True

"... if we have the courage to pursue them -- Walt Disney".

Hello, and thanks for finding me. I'm new to this platform and wanted to take a minute to introduce myself and share what you could expect to find here.

I'm Deidre. I'm the wife of a super amazing guy who supports my dreams and enables my crazy. We have four of the best kids in the world and are at the stage in life where their hobbies are our hobbies, we don't have any free time, meals are all too often fast food between sporting events or practices, if you'd show up to our house unannounced you'd likely find laundry undone, dishes in the sink and floors that are a day past needing swept... and I wouldn't change it! Kids truly grow too fast, one day I won't be driving them to hockey and horseback riding, they'll be mating their own socks, and I'll be missing this wild adventure.

I have been in the healthcare world for the last 12 years, and currently provide pediatric occupational therapy services through the state of West Virginia. My husband works in the business world, and is a hobbyist woodworker, that has grown into a side-gig we can both work at together. Through struggles with the local school system, we reluctantly became homeschool parents and it's ended up being the best decision for our family -- the kids are thriving and I get more time with them too!

Amidst the already busy, I wanted to put my wanderlust and desire for adventure (and ultimately, Disney addiction) along with my Type-A planning and organizing personality to use. In very early 2020, just a mere three weeks prior to worldwide travel shut down, I started as an independent contractor with a fantastic travel agency. Despite the terrible timing at the beginning, I've had so much fun planning vacations for others and taking the stress out of organizing their magical memories. I've already been privileged to meet so many great people and experience unique opportunities through this adventure and I'm just getting started, really!

I'd love a follow, and to answer your questions on my "Ask Me Anything"!! I plan to post the benefits of using a travel agent in the current "Do-It-Yourself Online-World", and how my services are really, truly free to you, next -- stay tuned!

[gogandmagog]

Nooo, because I’ve wondered about this before too! There’s so much to speculate on.

Did John work? It’s possible. The Victorian “Change of Airs” was usually prescribed by doctors for one of two reasons... the first being the ‘white death’ or consumption, and the second was ‘melancholy’ or serious mental health concerns. (A ‘secret third thing’ was basically just an extension of the latter, except that it was prescribed for funsies to higher classes, as it had become fashionable to be a tourist for climate therapy.) If we consider consumption, which has all the symptoms of an Extremely Bad cold (painful cough, fevers, night chills, fatigue, no appetite), it seems unlikely that John would be fit or able to work. In this instance, popping off to Alberta is also a very strange choice of location, given its undeveloped state, and extreme seasonal weather. A person with a ‘wet disease’ (Victorian term and logic) like consumption would want to find a drier climate (though perhaps this is one of the better Canadian options, given the winters that result in powdery snow instead of damp snow). And yet, on the other hand, knowing that it was three years exactly that Gilbert and John were gone, it all lines up rather perfectly with the consumption recovery timeline, outlined HERE: “The duration of active tuberculosis [consumption] from onset to cure or death is approximately three years.”

If John had ‘melancholy’... it’s far easier to imagine he would be able to work! A clinically depressed Blythe (“Blythe by name, Blythe by nature”) is almost an oxymoron, but I admit that at least for me, it’s very interesting to consider this as a possibility, given Maud’s own intimate familiarity with the subject. We really know very little about John (failed romance with Marilla, married to a cat lady, father to a single son), but when we consider that Gilbert thinks of Shirley – quiet and sedate and full of quiet humour – as being like John, we can grab some hints. But if it was melancholy, perhaps it was brought on by a loss? Maybe John’s parents? A close sibling? These things can affect people deeply, though it’s still hard to imagine that John would leave his wife and farm for three whole years, unless it was an absolute necessity.

On the subject of work itself, John would’ve had few options in Alberta. Alberta in the 1870’s was sooo sparsely populated. Alberta is the 4th largest providence in Canada. It stretches 255K miles. And there were, by Canada’s own estimation, less than one thousand non-native people living there in 1881 (this is even ten years later than Gilbert and John would have been there, so a conservative guess might suggest only 775 non-natives in the early 1870’s). There were hardly any forts, and the railroad hadn’t even crossed through yet... wouldn’t until 1883. 1870’s Albert was truly the Wild West. If you were there, you were either indigenous (Cree, Blackfoot, etc.), a trapper (until 1870 the future providence of Alberta was owned by the Hudson Bay Company), a missionary, or liquor tradesman. Nowhere for Gilbert to catch any schooling, certainly. For work, John basically would’ve had to have fit into one of these categories, long term. Or else, as you say, known someone that did, anyway! And given the nature of Alberta and all that we can say against it here (and say against taking your young son into, too), I personally quite like to think he must’ve known someone out there... someone close. Maaaybe a brother? The Blythe’s are notoriously clannish, after all. On top of which, the Blythe's are all quite sturdy and adventurous stock. For this, I could see John feeling comfortable with a trappers humble accommodations. (It was quite a lucrative business sometimes.)

Really quickly, Maud mentions Alberta in her short story Tannis of the Flats too. Tannis is rare in that it brings up native populations and touches on the remote deficiency/boredom of Forts in that time. It really demonstrates that Maud was familiar with what it was like in Alberta, back then. I would guess Tannis takes place in a similar time frame to Gilbert and John’s relocation to Alberta. Tannis exists in the same universe too, as it pointedly mentions a love interest from Avonlea village. Of Alberta, we hear:

“He had serious intentions of throwing up the business altogether, and betaking himself to an Alberta ranch, where at least one would have the excitement of roping horses.”

Tannis of the Flats by Lucy Maud Montgomery

Now this is the kind of thing I could imagine Gilbert getting up to, to amuse himself, during that three-year stretch... roping horses like a little cowboy, playing with livestock, poking around aspen-covered bluffs, experimenting with sticks in bogs, catching pike or chief fish with woven traps and weirs, and being of use by chopping wood... all when he wasn’t otherwise occupied with helping his dad and whomever they might’ve been staying with, of course. Gilbert presents himself as very handy, self-sufficient, capable, and determined to help in the book series (from start to finish), and a lot of that could have rounded itself out in Alberta. Given how often I liken Jem to him, I forever think of this passage from Rainbow Valley and tie it into Gilbert’s Alberta lapse, too:

“Jem always knew where the first and ripest berries grew, where the first pale violets shyly wakened from their winter’s sleep, and how many blue eggs were in a given robin’s nest in the maple grove. He could tell fortunes from daisy petals and suck honey from red clovers, and grub up all sorts of edible roots on the banks of the pond, while Susan went in daily fear that they would all be poisoned. He knew where the finest spruce-gum was to be found, in pale amber knots on the lichened bark, he knew where the nuts grew thickest in the beechwoods around the Harbour Head, and where the best trouting places up the brooks were. He could mimic the call of any wild bird or beast in Four Winds and he knew the haunt of every wild flower from spring to autumn.”

Rainbow Valley by Lucy Maud Montgomery

What do you think Gilbert did while in Alberta? Work? Did they know people prior? Did his father work?

[theoldhempfarmer]

Waiting for the other shoe to drop…

Dateline 3-1-23

The weather is Sunny and continues to be unseasonably warm in Middle Tennessee. These unusual conditions have enticed almost any plant that can to bloom and as a result, there is a plethora of pollen that has zeroed in on The Old Hemp Farmer and as a result, yours truly, is suffering a King Hell episode of Hay Fever. So as therapy, The Old Hemp Farmer is enjoying a cup of organic Indonesian, nibbling on some Cacao fortified with Tennessee homegrown Cannabis extract, while listening to U2 (don’t ask I don’t understand it myself) while contemplating the events of the last 24 hours. You see, yesterday, here in the vain glorious state of Tennessee, the bill that would have decriminalized possession of Marijuana down to a $25.00 fine, got treated like a Russian tank in the Ukraine. For those folks that held out the possibility of Recreational or Medical Cannabis, this was a cold shot of reality. So now, the Cannabis professionals in this neck of the woods are waiting with anticipation for the other shoe to drop. That other “shoe” is the bill HB0403/SBO378 which regulates the production and sale of hemp-derived cannabinoids, including products known as delta-8 and delta-10 and Amends TCA Title (not sure of what that is but it sounds very serious) which while trying not sound too melodramatic is a little bill that could radically change the way that people that produce and sell Cannabis derived D8 THC and D9 THC products in the state of Tennessee. Last year, a very similar bill was up for consideration and after dithering on both sides of this Cannabis legislation, they simply “Ran out the Clock” and settled for a tie. Neither side had really thought out the ramifications for the nascent Tennessee "Hemp" Industry. The banning of THCa, THC Delta 8 and THC Delta 9 would take away the most profitable part of the “Hemp” industry and quite simply a lot of companies would fold. Last year, it was pointed out to the legislators that millions upon millions were raked in by the state of Tennessee on the sales of Cannabis products even without an Excise Tax, that stopped everyone in their tracks, so they declared victory and went home.

Well, this very same bill has returned to the limelight and so far it seems that no one in the State House has any gusto to the tackle the subject again this year. In the House, this bill was assigned to a Criminal Justice sub committee, where it has languished for a month, meanwhile in the Senate they have deferred any real action for six weeks. The end of the current legislative session is the second week of May, will they try to run out the clock again, stranger things than that have happened in Cannabis? The Old Hemp Farmer’s Wife pointed out that our life, which started in “Rec” is more bizarre in “Hemp”. Yup, Marijuana might be the Wild West but Hemp is "Mad Max". 10 years after the implementation of legal Cannabis, who would thought Recreational Cannabis would be more mature and orderly than “Hemp”? One way or the other the next couple of weeks will be interesting. After 7 years, Tennessee homegrown has had to change its profit model a few times, so what’s one more time? In the world of Cannabis derived Cannabinoids, Lee Crabtree and I have learned to roll with it. Anyway as always, Hemp Dawgs and Hemp Puppies keep one eye on the weather and the other eye on the market.

Visit our Tennessee Homegrown web site to try our great products: https://www.tnhomegrown.com

Our Podcast - Full Contact Cannabis: https://fullcontactcannabis.podbean.com

The Wife's web site: https://www.theoldhempfarmerswife.com

#theoldhempfarmer #tennesseehomegrown #fullcontactcannabis #cannabinoids #cannabisindustry #cannabisbusiness #theoldhempfarmerswife

[kidflashimpulse]

Since we're talking about West-Allen-Garrick Family Headcanons, I think right after Wally's death there was so much tension within the whole family. Bart said in season three (I think it was episode sixteen) that the public never realized it was a different guy in the suit. I feel like when Bart first became KF, the public never noticed and the League never said the original Kid Flash died, so he just kept being Wally if you get what I mean. Like another anon said, the Wests definitely felt uncomfortable around Bart and just avoided him in their grief. Barry and I can even see Jay accidentally calling Bart "Wally" and then regretting it immediately. I just think the few months from Wally's death created such an uncomfortable atmosphere in all three households, so instead Bart just threw himself into hero work and just avoided everyone most of the time. Adding onto the fact, that the Reach is gone, Bart's mission is fully complete, now he has to face all his trauma and start truly living without surviving. He probably doesn't know what he wants to do when he's older or even thought about his dating life. So with all of the trauma and the fact that the flashfam is a mess, I feel like slowly Jay, Joan, Barry, and Iris started finding out about his life before coming back to the past. Then they kinda just realize they have a really traumatized fourteen-year-old. I like to think that after everything comes to light, the whole family including Rudy and Mary starts to heal together. Anyway sorry for rambling lmao, I really like your fics, especially AAIT :)

Also, love the idea of the League, especially Bruce (he's a good dad in YJA and knows exactly how Barry is feeling cause of Jason) helps Barry through his grief cause I'm a sucker for the League becoming found family.

no worries I LOVE reading other ppls thoughts, thank u sm for sharing it with us <33

100% agree on the tension and how Bart pretty much throws himself into hero work, tbh I HC that even till this point in Phantoms he throws himself into it, because if anyone can its him, his speed definitely helps with him juggling everything. Though of course as he starts to have a more normal life, dating Ed and being comfortable with his family he has reasons to take it easier, though I do think he's used to just always taking things on without second guessing whether he has the time. 

Also agree on the League not publicising Wallys death because as Jaime mentioned when they were in the grotto, the League doesn't want to publicise that they're not immortal, and that ppl thought he was just the same BB as Ted Kord in another costume. Its pretty much suggested that the same happened to Bart as KF, especially since he started out wearing Wallys exact same costume. Most probably over the years with more coverage and musings ppl realise he's a different guy, especially with his new suit, but like he mentioned its doesn't really click for everyone that he's not Wally. 

About what u said on the League, particularly Bruce and Barry, it kinda reminds me of how dead-set I am on how incredibly weighted/awkward (thats not the right word but its not coming to me rn lol) Clarks role as a Leaguer (and long time friend of Barrys) is and at the same time knowing that something is going on with Barts disappearance. All this time Barry, someone with a very much known history (among the League, like Bruce) of having lost a family member and legacy act, going through two weeks of having zero idea where Bart is, someone, who has filled in the very role of the person who was famously lost. Like just the weight of this situation itself is actually wild? And the nobility in Clarks actions of keeping his word when it matters aside, its actually lowkey such a dick move LMAO Barry was out there probably not having a great time (understatement of the century); Jay ended up needing therapy and Clark is just there like 

If I had the money I would PAY to see all these type of scenes lol 

[found--family]

Dean/Cas WIPs to get you through the week (Sept '22)

Finding these fic updates in my inbox always brightens my day so i'm sharing the love: 

Raise the Black - emmbrancsxx0 (E) 

The Pirate AU you've been waiting for! 1700s born-and-raised pirate Dean meets young Cas on a raided merchant ship. Fifteen years later opportunity knocks and Castiel joins Dean's crew. This fic is brimming with familar faces, period and atmospheric details, and a cinematic worthy plot. Alternating POV.

The Man Called Lazarus - birdyedwards (E) 

Western AU with marshall Dean and outlaw Cas, timeline switching between present and past. Just enough details to please those with a cowboy kink but not enough to scare off those unfamiliar with the genre. When the search for vengeance leads to so much more, the good and the bad. 

Scramble On - featheredinlead (E)

Gilmore Girls inspired AU with longtime besties pining after each other in a picturesque small town with diner-owner Dean, single dad Cas, wildflowers, Jack, and flashbacks of their friendship. 

So Stay By My Side - gingerswag (M)

BDSM biological AU with therapist dom!Cas trying to nurse mistreated sub!Dean back to health. Angsty, so heed the tags, but the comfort to the hurt is central with a focus on mindful therapy. POV switches between Dean and Cas. A truly wild ride so strap in for some feels. 

spirit of the west - teen_dean (M)

1990s AU with 18yo dropout and horse-lover Dean struggling with J*hn and loneliness on the family horse farm. Summer takes a better turn when vet Cas returns after years away and Dean realises some things about himself. Lots of familiar faces including Jo and Cesar with well-crafted atmospheric details. The 90s horse girl Dean fic you didn't know you needed. 

Angel Dust - Duckyboos (E)

Love, lust and addiction between the scenes of seasons 4 and 5 but with an added grace kink. Slow build with plenty of morsel chapters and case stuff as well as Dean introspection. The kick-off to an epic love story that plays into the grit and occasional gruesome side of canon and reads like Dean himself penned the narrative. 

The Benjamin Franklin Key-and-Kite Experiment - beerenee (E)

1x12: Faith alternate canon where Dean is healed by Emmanuel!Cas and that's just the beginning. So many nods to canon and a mystery at the centre of it all. Comes with cool art embedded throughout as drawn by artist!Dean. Mind the adultery tag. 

Whiskey & November - dothraki_shieldmaiden & FriendofCarlotta (E)

Dollhouse AU with Angels (re:dolls) Dean and Cas who form a profound bond despite not knowing who or what they really are. The different 'assignments' Angels are sent on makes this feel like a dozen AUs in one. Charlie and Sam are just two of the familiar faces expanding this fic into multiple POV.

[wingletblackbird]

Hi. I've been a long time fan of your meta posts. I've been wondering from a purely legally perspective if, as a senator, Padme had the authority to pardon Anakin following his confession in AotC?

Thanks for the compliment!

I'm pretty sure Padme does not have the authority to forgive Anakin's actions on Tatooine from a legal perspective. This isn't just because she is a senator though, and I don't think senators unilaterally have that authority. Even if she did have that kind of authority, and had it on a planet not in the Chommell Sector, she would lack jurisdiction on two counts.

The first is that Tatooine is really only nominally a part of the Republic. It is ruled by the Hutts. Padme has no authority here whatsoever. On top of that, there is no local law enforcement on Tatooine. There are Jabba's enforcers, and your blaster. There is no real law at all. This is the Wild West at it's worst. That is why when Shmi is kidnapped, Cliegg gathers up his farming buddies, and they go after the Tuskens. They can't call in the police, or the military, or any one else to do it. It's a harsh world, and it is just them to do what is necessary. That is why, from a Tatooinian legal perspective, Anakin has not violated the law. On Tatooine justice=vengeance. It is hard to break the law when there isn't one. Sure people will think what he did was excessive, but everyone hates the Tuskens, (you could even call it speciesism), so no one will do anything about it.

The second reason Padme has no say is because Anakin is a Jedi. The Jedi, as seen in Ahsoka's trial, handle all legal matters concerning violations by the Jedi, if not all Force-Sensitives. Now, this system does have room for abuse. However, there is good reason for this system to exist. Force-sensitive beings can choke you from afar, mind trick you etc. The Jedi are the only ones who can ensure a sound judgement, and/or minimal chance of an escaped convict.

Not only do the Jedi need to be in charge in this case for security, they are also the only one's who can truly appreciate how difficult the Force is to handle. What I mean by this is that there is a difference between falling to the Dark Side, and brushing against the Dark. The former is a choice you can be condemned for, the latter is more like manslaughter. Think in ANH when Obi-Wan tells Luke, essentially, that the Force can also control you. You need to be careful how you draw upon the Force. What might be murder for a non-Forceful, could be manslaughter for Forceful if they are overwhelmed by a Force they cannot control, but controls them.

Taking all of this into context then. When Anakin finds his mother, he is grief-stricken, guilt-stricken, furious, horrified, terrified etc. He decides someone needs to die for this, and fair enough. His mother has been tortured to death over several weeks. He gets out his lightsaber and kills the guards. After that, Tuskens come running up to him, he swings his lightsaber. Fade to black. The fade to black symbolizes his brush with the Dark Side. Anakin intended to kill the guards. This is not against the law. This is justice on Tatooine. However, Anakin is also Force-sensitive, and extremely off-balance. He draws on the Force wrong, gets overwhelmed by the Force, and more and more Tuskens, and next thing you know, he's gone and killed the whole village. This was not intentional at all. (As an aside, I think drawing on the Light Side the wrong way can be just as bad, even if not as obviously destructive, but that is a meta for another day.)

Anakin is shocked, horrified, sickened. We can see him struggle to come to terms with it when Padme comes to find him. When he was using the Dark Side he was on a high of power, all the justifications whispered in his head he remembers, now he's awake and trying to cope with what he has done, and why, and how it felt. He has no clue how to handle this. He is a trainwreck. Now, if he'd been bragging about it, I think Padme would have noped out and reported him. He wasn't though. He felt bad. He should be better than this. She forgives him. This is not on a legal level, just a personal one. Padme's gift and flaw is that she always looks for the best in people. Anakin has committed no wrong on Tatooine, and the other wrongs are a Jedi matter she has nothing to do with. In the same way she likely assumed the Jedi would handle Shmi, she thought Anakin would go to the Jedi. Then the war broke out, and there were other things to worry about.

As for Anakin, he was horrified about what he did, and knew he would have to tell someone. He was scared to tell Obi-Wan/the Jedi though. He had never quite fit in. He didn't want to let them down. He didn't expect them to understand how losing his mother affected them. How could they? What should he do? So, he goes to Palpatine first for advice. Palpatine will tell him what he should do. Had Palpatine been a decent man, he would have been sympathetic, but still would have told Anakin that this was beyond his area, and Anakin clearly needs the Jedi's help. Anakin would have gone to the Jedi. Palpatine is not a good man though, and wants Anakin to feel miserable and dark and dependent only on him, so he isolates Anakin further. Of course, the Jedi would never understand, my dear boy. And, besides, it's not like what you did was really all that bad, right? After all, they killed your mother. All water under the bridge! Anakin may not believe this, but it is permission for him to not face his fears, so he doesn't. He vows to do better, and leaves it at that. If Padme brings it up, he tells her he got help. He legitimately thinks he did. Even if he mentioned it was Palpatine he went to, at this point in time, Palpatine is an old friend/mentor of Padme's. She trusts him too. Problem solved.

Now, had Anakin (or Padme) actually told the Jedi what happened. I do not think they would have risked expelling Anakin outright. First of all, they could not have condemned the murder of the Tusken guards, as that could be considered justice under Tatoonian law. However, the rest is manslaughter, arguably even involuntary manslaughter. (Anakin definitely would not have killed kids at this point in time intentionally. He could barely do it even when he chose to fall.) Given Anakin's remorse, he is not beyond hope, and they do not want to expel a man who still could be a danger to himself and others, (and they want to keep track of “The Chosen One”), so he is punished and offered extra meditative training.

I think generally 1-5 years is the typical penalty for involuntary manslaughter? Up to a maximum of 8-10? I don't know. I'm no expert, but I reckon it is pretty similar for Jedi. I imagine the council would suspend him from all further duties, place him in confinement for a year for meditation, counselling, therapy is that too much to ask for?, after that, they would let him out for remedial training under a watchful eye. If improvement was seen, he would eventually be allowed to return to active duty. His knighthood would be put off for quite some time. Alas, this does not happen.

Even if it had though, I don't picture Anakin ever being knighted. Honestly, the increased supervision would have also meant he couldn't see Palpatine or Padme. I think the latter would be the breaking point. Anakin would insist on seeing her and he would get expelled. He would still be expected to do his time, of course, but after that he would leave and never look back.

[baepop]

Muse

You meet a quiet painter that helps you manage your anger.

Word Count: 4.7k

Pairing: You x Taehyung

Genre: Slight fluff, slight angst, Smut

A/N: I couldn’t get this idea out of my head, so I had to sit down and write it out this afternoon. I hope you guys like it 🥺

What are you thinking?

The pinkish hue of your cheeks had long subsided now, though the heaving in your chest still remained albeit at a minimal level. The part in your lips prevailed as well, if only to huff the stray hairs falling over your face occasionally.

The rest of your hair was sprawled across the back of his couch like wild seaweed. Your favorite necklace rested in the crook of your collarbone as the dainty chain tickled your sensitive neck. Goosebumps broke out across your arms as they, too, were strewn across the couch. Your pose wasn’t ideal, but you knew it was exactly how he wanted you, so you wouldn’t get up to close the window letting in a cold draft.

His apartment was quaint, a studio on the upper west side that resided above a bodega and a taqueria. You’ve had many opportunities to take it all in, yet somehow there was always something new to discover whenever your eyes wandered.

You pondered if this was all a big metaphor with some grand artistic meaning about how it somehow represented his mental state. How he, such a quiet and minimal person could be happy in such a cluttered apartment on one of the busiest streets in the city was beyond you. You peered at the ostentatious wallpaper juxtaposed with the exposed brick behind him. Paintings lent up against the walls on the ground, stacked against each other, even in the kitchen. Only one word came to mind: loud.

Your eyes eventually came back to him, and when they did, the pink hue returned except this time it was in the form of a blush. He had been eyeing you carefully, waiting to make eye contact with you. When you did, he shot you that lopsided smirk you knew so well before he returned to his canvas. It was his way of telling you to stop moving your head so much.

You leaned your head against the back of the couch again and didn’t move until he finally put his brush down. He stood and backed away from his painting to gain some perspective, deciding if he was truly finished or not.

You’d once heard that paintings are truly never finished, it was just a matter of when the artist was willing to stop. Since then, you’d always wondered when Taehyung would deem it acceptable to put the brush down, when he’d feel that he had done everything he could to capture your essence. You knew there had to be something to it, since every time you’d gaze at the finished product it’d take your breath away.

He was always able to capture your inner feelings with eerie accuracy, which was something that endlessly amazed you.

So many afternoons spent in his apartment, you venting about the latest thing that got your blood to boil while he focused on his artwork. And each time, as you’d emptied your brain of all its toxic contents, he’d make magic happen on the paper.

You watched Taehyung shake his head then return to his seat and pick up the brush again. Some days it was harder for him to decide when to stop.

As you laid naked on the upholstery basking in the afternoon sun that was now filtering in through the window, you began to reminisce about the first time you had posed for him. Your face had been the color of a tomato from complaining about a rude bus driver and your hair was a matted mess after waking up late for work that morning. You didn’t understand how you could possibly be anyone’s muse, especially that day.

You had been in no mood to sit around for hours in a strange apartment, but you had given Taehyung your word after he kindly texted you asking for you to be his model earlier that week. You both happened to take a recreational art class downtown together a year ago when he had tapped you on the shoulder two hours into the lesson and extended his phone to you for your number. You had tagged along with a friend that day to see what their art class was like, and you were glad you did when you saw how cute the shy guy across the room was up close. You were flattered, to say the least, especially when he had later texted asking you to be his personal model. After all, the class had been about learning to paint the human anatomy, so the proposition hadn’t come from left field.

But when the day finally came, you just weren’t in the mood. You showed up and took your clothes off in a huff, taking a seat in front of him and attempting the breathing exercises your anger management counselor had taught you.

As the hours went by, you realized you probably weren’t making such a good model, and your annoyance turned into shame as he moved away from his painting. When you were just about done getting redressed, he turned the easel towards you and took your breath away just like that.

He was an amazing artist, but more than that he was exceptionally observant. What you expected to be a painting of you being petulant and looking anywhere but at him, was instead of a girl that looked very unsure of herself. He’d even used a cool toned palette exclusively to convey those feelings perfectly. You could only look at him in awe, feeling more vulnerable than you had been with your clothes off a minute ago.

After that, he texted you to come over on a weekly basis, and each time you came and did much of the same. You’d take your clothes off and pose anywhere in front of where his easel stood ready and waiting. And each time, he’d reveal a part of you on the paper that you never cared to show anyone.

You were ashamed to admit that you were always angry stepping into his apartment, but each time he turned the easel towards you, a different girl stared back at you. Sometimes she was scared, sometimes she was hopeful.

A few sessions later, you felt as though you could trust Taehyung, partly because he seemed to be in tune with parts of you that you hadn’t even known existed deep under the many levels of anger and hatred that bubbled noisily at your surface. He made you want to express yourself, which was something that was tough for you to do, even with your therapist. But it wasn’t like there was anything else to fill the silence with during those quiet hours anyway. So every week you’d come over expose yourself to him in more ways than one.

You couldn’t exactly call it talking, though.

You’d tell him about what happened that day to make you mad, and sometimes what made you feel particularly murderous. Few times, you’d express something that made you happy, because those really came few and far between. And whenever you did, you felt oddly childlike, as if expressing happiness was somehow attributed to being young while expressing grievances was adult-like. Or maybe it was the way Taehyung’s eyes brightened whenever you talked about something positive. It made you want to look for more things to be happy about, and that in itself, was childlike, you supposed.

But it was all one sided. After a long time of posing for him, you began to wonder if that was the deal: you’d express yourself for him while he’d express himself on paper. You figured it wasn’t a terrible trade, but as time went by you found it increasingly frustrating not to have any reciprocation on the same level. His artwork was always a reflection of you, and it left a huge mystery about who Taehyung really was inside.

Of course, you were never one to accept things as they were if you weren’t content with them, so you slowly learned how to better communicate with someone who was mute.

At first it annoyed you that he’d never answer your questions, no matter how simple or complex they were. Occasionally, if you asked him something that warranted an obvious “yes”, he’d look up from the canvas and smile with his eyes before returning to the task at hand. Those small notions were enough to hold you over until the next question arose. And it wasn’t as if you weren’t being heard, or seen, for that matter. His paintings of you proved quite the opposite.

Your painting sessions became like therapy, in a way. You always felt alleviated after posing for him, and over time, you came to depend on them. What started off as you warily stepping into his place with your bag clutched around your shoulder checking for hidden cameras and other red flags turned into you bursting in with two coffees in your hand already starting a story about your bitch of a boss. Taehyung found your workplace gossip hilarious, though you’d never know why. And overtime, his chuckle was also something you felt was like a small yet precious gift to you, another facet of the elusive painter who was still inspired by your body countless artworks later.

Taehyung and his cluttered studio.

They started off as something you didn’t want but definitely needed. You found it quite a drag to commute to his side of town regularly especially when you were in a foul mood most days. You often kicked yourself for agreeing to go.

Yet these days, it was quite the opposite. You had managed to make some serious headway with your anger management over the past few months, partly thanks to Taehyung for giving you a space to safely and comfortably talk through your turbulent thoughts and emotions. But now, you looked forward to paying him visits, not because you needed to vent, but because you wanted to see him. You wanted to find more peculiar things in his apartment, to notice something else about his personality that you hadn’t before, to be in his calming presence. Because just as he had plenty of time to stare at every inch of your body’s anatomy, you did so too. And boy, did you take advantage.

You had already been compiling a mental list of things about Taehyung you had noticed over time, intimate details that somehow set the cosmic scoreboard even for how intimately he was getting to know your naked body.

For example, he had a crinkle between his eyebrows when he focused on painting a particular part of you that was giving him trouble to grasp. When he was really focused, he’d jut his tongue out a bit and swipe his bottom lip. He often liked to run his fingers through his hair when leaning away from his portrait to gain some perspective. He always pursed his lips before smiling, as if showing amusement was somehow forbidden. And when he gave way to a smirk, it almost always bloomed into the widest boxiest smile you’d ever seen. His hair had more highlights in it than you cared to count, and he had a weird aversion to coasters. Dried rings on countertops all over his apartment served as unquestionable proof of.

You felt like you were finally starting to grasp what kind of person he was, though it still felt as if you were outside looking in. You wanted to know him like he knew you, but you weren’t sure it was possible to be let into someone’s heart that you’d never had a proper conversation with. It proved to be a very difficult thing. But when your efforts came to fruition, the recompence you felt was beyond words.

It was during a particularly shitty day, not because anything made you mad, but because the weather was god awful. Nonstop rain mixed in with cold weather and persistent winds made for a troublesome commute. And because of it, it took way longer to get to Taehyung’s place than normal. When he opened the door for you an hour after your agreed meetup time, his eyebrows shot up in surprise but nonetheless let you in. His hair was damp and his TV was on, two things you’d never seen before.

You had dropped your bag, coat and wet shoes at the door, hugging yourself and rubbing your arms as you walked further in. His heater was on, so you immediately went to go sit by it. You hadn’t realized your teeth were chattering until he brought you a steaming cup of coffee with a sympathetic look to boot. You took it from his hands gratefully and fixed your trembling fingers over the smooth ceramic, blowing the steam away before taking a tentative sip. Mmm, dark roast.

Taehyung looked over at his art supplies, his fingers twitching when his eyes landed on his recently cleaned brush, poised and ready on the lip of the easel. But when he looked back at you, he decided it was probably best not to have you take your clothes off right away. So he brought a blanket over to you and draped it over your shoulders before returning to his seat on the couch. He was watching a horror movie, which made you all the more curious about this strange boy that never talks. What kind of person watches horror movies alone?

The coffee, blanket and heater warmed you up rather quickly, and soon you had removed your socks and your sweater before settling in to watch the climax of the spooky film. You wanted to wait for him to suggest he still wanted to paint you, feeling perfectly content to just hang out like this. For the next half hour, you both took turns glancing at each other but missing eye contact as if this was a game of tag. You started smiling to yourself, wondering why today felt so different when you had already been meeting for months now.

You bit the inside of your cheek in contemplation before decidedly moving to sit next to him on the couch. He moved over to give you plenty of room before returning your smile politely, though there was an amused glint in his eyes that you hadn’t missed before he turned to give the television his undivided attention. You wondered if this sudden electricity between you both was all in your head. It’s not like you could ask him directly, or if you wanted to for that matter. It’d be embarrassing if he hadn’t developed a crush on you over these past few months as you had with him.

Yet as you sat on the same couch you had lounged in for months, you couldn’t help but wonder what if?

You swallowed thickly and your pulse quickened as you realized how close his hand was to you. It laid in between you both, flat against the cushion. You never noticed how pretty his hands were before now, taking in the light vans that ran up his arms stemming from his slender fingers, Your own fingers twitched before you slowly inched your hand forward nand placed it over his. Your eyes flitted towards him, regarding him warily. He had been watching the movie with his head leaning on his palm, and when your skin made contact, his eyes moved sideways, first taking in the intimate gesture then looking at you briefly before turning back to the television in what looked to be a bored expression.

Your bravery crumbled and you began moving your hand away, but he caught it in his before you could get away and then laced your fingers together. Your eyebrows shot up and you tried to hold back the huge smile on your face as you finished watching the movie with your hands joined in between you both. Taehyung couldn’t help but look over at you a few more times and grinning at the blush on your face, finding it cute how shy you were when it came to making a move.

When the movie had ended, you both sat quietly, playing with each other’s fingers, you giggling girlishly and him enjoying the sight of you being so flustered. Eventually the flashing of his phone screen from across the room caught his attention and he dropped your hand, much to your disappointment. You figured that was as much as you were going to get out of him today, so you began stripping as he busied himself typing away. When he returned to you, he was surprised to see you naked and posed, ready to be his muse again. You furrowed your brow and gestured toward the easel to which he shook his head slowly. Ah, I guess he doesn’t want to paint any more today.

“Sorry, I figured we were still doing that. Should I just go and come back next week?” Taehyung thought for a moment then shook his head again, coming to sit by you once more. “Then… what? You want to sit here and hold hands all day?” Taehyung quirked his brow at you, his lips pursing as he held back a smile. “You’re so frustrating sometimes you know.” This time he smiled and scratched the top of his head while looking at the floor, not offering any semblance of what his plans were.

It’d been a while before something miniscule got you worked up and angry like it used to, so you were surprised when the way his eyes seemed to roll away from you caused a switch inside of you to click. You were growing angrier by the second and you couldn’t seem to stop it.

You huffed as you yanked your top from the floor and pulled it on over your head. You reached for your underwear and kicked your legs through the holes as Taehyung sat and watched you with patient eyes.

“I mean, you could text me or something and let me know not to come over next time. I don’t live close by you know.” You huffed as you stood up to get your sweater that still laid serenely by the radiator. You weren’t looking forward to braving the wet and cold just after you had dried and warmed up.

But before you could march over to it, Taehyung firmly took hold of your wrist, causing you to spin on your heel.

“I’m sorry, don’t go.”

You ogled at him, looking at his lips for a while to see if they’d move again. You couldn’t believe he just talked aloud. When they didn’t, you looked up at his eyes in confusion. His expression was urgent, his pupils deep pools of sincerity that you could swim in forever. He was genuinely apologizing, though you felt there was no need. You already knew you were throwing a fit needlessly.

“…I…”

Taehyung slowly smiled, realizing it was your turn to be speechless. He tugged at your wrist, guiding you to sit on his lap. Your heart raced at the newfound proximity. You were now close enough to smell his bodywash which was enough to make your head swim if it wasn’t for the fact that Taehyung just spoke in the most rich and velvety voice you’d ever heard.

“I thought…you were mute.”

“Selective.” Taehyung held your gaze for a minute as his fingers brushed against the soft skin under your wrist, feeling your pulse thump furiously. You looked into his eyes with uneven breath as the realization hit. He was finally letting you in.

Suddenly you were leaning in, craving to experience the full extent of his emotions. And so he met you halfway, molding his soft lips around yours in a deep kiss that made your heart stop altogether.

His large hands took hold of your sides and held you tightly against him as he leaned in to savor your taste. His tongue swiped curiously against your lip so you parted your mouth, allowing him full access to it. You leaned back the more he leaned in, and eventually you were both laying down on the couch with him positioned on top of you, making out intensely. When he broke away panting, his lips were swollen and his eyes full of lusty haze. You didn’t get a chance to take his demeanor in fully, because his lips were back on you again except kissing at the skin of your neck instead, leaving marks along their journey to your collar bone. Each bruise was a paragraph of text written on your paper skin, each lick a compliment he longed to give you since the first time you took your clothes off for him.

It seemed as though for all that he lacked verbally, he more than compensated with touch and emotion.

His hands sneaked underneath your shirt and pulled it off of you before he gazed at your chest. You blushed, because although he’d seen your breasts countless times before, he’d never looked at them the way he was now. You felt like a clay statue he was breathing life into as his lips latched onto your buds, causing your back to lift off of the cushions. He was as good with his mouth as he was with his brush strokes.

You made quick work of his shirt, feeling all too eager to feel his burning skin on yours. His touch was setting you ablaze, and you found the dull ache in between your legs increasingly harder to ignore. You carded your fingers through his hair as he took his pants off impatiently. You’d have taken the opportunity to take your own underwear off, but something told you you’d enjoy it a lot more if he did it for you.

Taehyung leaned back on his heels, his eyes shooting downwards as you opened your legs tentatively. He furrowed his brow in concentration as he hooked his fingers around the waistband of your panties and slowly peeled them off of you as if he was opening a present. He licked his lips as he spread your legs wide before him, taking in your glistening sex from his vantage point. Suddenly he bit his lip and stood up, disappearing behind the couch momentarily. He returned with a condom and tore into the packet as you both looked at each other eagerly.

Finally, he sat in between your legs again, brushing his thumb against your reddened clit as he licked his lips. You didn’t want to wait for him anymore, so you sat up and took hold of his lips with yours again, guiding him down onto you and wrapping your legs around his waist. When he plunged inside of you, your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

He rocked his hips slowly at first and continued peppering your body with kisses and bites. Your nails dug into his back while he balanced himself on his elbows, his hands pushing away the hair from your face. When he kissed your lips again, your tongues swirled wildly, causing him to lose control and pick up the pace. You hissed and moaned, your hips coming up to meet him stroke for stroke.

And as his movements got increasingly rougher and more urgent, you lost yourself in them over and over again because now it was his turn to express himself.

Your sweaty bodies writhed against each other all afternoon, each moan of yours an appreciation of his affection towards you and each grown of his conveying a wordless confession.

Making love to Taehyung was like him having a conversation with your body. He knew all the right places to touch and when. He’d get so wrapped up and passionate during your afternoons spent together that he’d hardly seem like the same quiet man sitting across from you staring at a canvas for hours. He was rough yet gentle, persistent yet patient, truly in keeping with the enigma that he had always been to you.

And now, as you sat on the very same couch you both had made love on the first time and many times afterward, you found yourself eyeing him mischievously. It had been 20 minutes after he decided his painting wasn’t quite finished yet, and you were getting antsy.

He’d caught your look, and though a reaction didn’t register on his face, the growing bulge sitting pretty in between his legs was enough for you.

Your nipples were quickly hardening in the frigid air entering through the open window, though the reason for that wasn’t entirely attributed to the col temperature. Normally you were patient enough to wait until he was done, but today was stressful and you wanted so badly for him to help you relieve some of that stress.

So you didn’t bother holding back your joy when he finally stood up from his spot in the corner and sauntered over to you, giving you a disapproving look. You looked back at him apologetically, though you weren’t sure it translated well as you bit your lip lustfully at his approaching figure. He sighed, flicking one of your hardened nipples roughly. You let out a shaky breath to which he snickered as he pulled his shirt off over his head. This time it was his turn to bite his lips as you purposely spread your legs, giving him a full view of what he was capable of doing to you without so much as touching you.

He growled as he crawled onto the couch, groping your curves and dips as he contemplated how to punish you for being a fidgety model. You awaited eagerly with a shallow breath then squealed as he abruptly scooped you into his arms and off the couch. He brought you over to the windowsill and sat you down before kneeling in front of you and spreading your legs again. Your breath hitched in your throat at the first stroke of his tongue on your clit. Your hands gripped the edge of the windowsill as you scooted closer to the edge to give him better access to you. You made a mental note to interrupt his painting sessions more often.

“A-ah….Taehyung…” You moaned softly as he sucked lightly on your clit. His eyes watched you carefully as his tongue navigated your slick folds expertly. When you threw your head back as his tongue got closer to your entrance, he pushed the wet muscle inside and fucked you with his face, causing you to buck your hips onto him. Your head snapped back down, and your fingers latched onto his hair, guiding him in and out of you as you fucked his face. You were so close to cumming, but you needed a bit more. That’s when Taehyung replaced his tongue with two fingers, plunging them inside you and curling them upwards as he milked the orgasm from you. You hunched over, holding onto his head tightly as you came all over his mouth and fingers.

“Fuck…that was…” You panted and let go of him, allowing him to stand back up as he wiped the side of his mouth with his thumb. He smiled at you brightly, all semblance of disapproval gone from his angelic features. You brough him towards you and kissed him passionately, only then feeling the cold wind licking at your backside. You shivered, so he took your hand and led you off the windowsill.

He embraced you as you wrapped your arms around his midsection, holding you in silence for a few moments. Eventually, he tipped your chin up to stare into your eyes and gauge the rest of your sentence from what your eyes could give away. You looked back at him and smiled, feeling brave enough to ask him something that didn’t have a simple yes or no answer for once.

“What are you thinking?”

Taehyung looked down for a moment then took your hand in his. He brought you over to his easel and placed you in front of today’s painting, looking at your reaction carefully. You had expected to see yourself staring at the center of the page looking horny as ever.

But as you gazed at the painting, you saw a girl who was very much in love.

Your chest tightened and your eyes glistened. Turning towards Taehyung, you looked up at his wary eyes. He held his breath as his thumb stroked your knuckles, conveying more than you had ever expected him to be able to. And for once, you were glad there were no words.

[lamortexiii]

Cryptic Mystic: We Are the Mask

The things you like, how you socialize, your reactions - all make up parts of your personality. Deciphering the truth from the lies; we possess the ability to morph who we are. How much/what do we mask, and what purpose does “masking” serve? This month’s blog dives deep into a few topics that all tie together to create one collective theme. As most things in life, these topics are intertwined. You’ll likely take something different from this blog than the next person, but that’s how my blogs are, as you probably well know… Now, without further adieu, let’s jump into this one.

To start, I’d like to take a moment to ask that you visit the website 16personalities.com and take their personality test. I guarantee you’ll gain valuable insight into your personality, and how you compare with others. It may even help you to better understand yourself or others. I always get the result of “Protagonist: ENFJ-A”. This result hasn’t changed in the last 5 years, however, psychologists and layperson test-takers alike will let you know that throughout life the results can change. So, on a scale of 1-100, here are my detailed results: 

MIND (Introversion VS extroversion): 89% extroverted

ENERGY (intuitive VS observant): 79% intuitive

NATURE (thinking VS feeling): 53% feeling

TACTICS (judging VS prospecting): 94% judging

IDENTITY (assertive VS turbulent): 56% assertive

Personality is a somewhat stable thing but has the potential to change over time in certain ways. There are some parts of us that I fully believe will never change. I term those the “concrete personality factors.” However, there are plenty of things about our personality that we can change if we try. Strong willpower and mind can aid in changing one's personality traits that are malleable. The not-so-malleable personality traits are much harder to change (if changing them is even possible) and would take a great amount of self-discipline and maybe even some serious professional therapy. My perspective: embrace who you are! If there is something about yourself that you would like to change because it is harmful to yourself or others, then work towards that change. At the end of the day, you are the only person who holds the key to changing who YOU are. The choice is ultimately yours. I tell people, no amount of therapy can change a person unless they truly want to change in the first place. Just like no one else can force you to change. Changing requires work and effort on YOUR part. 

So how do masks tie into all of this? People hide who they are behind metaphorical masks all of the time. We see this in several realms, however not all always apply in this context to everyone. We see examples of people “masking” who they really are through makeup, clothing, behaviors, and actions on a daily basis. Some are better at hiding who they are than others, and some of these folks you likely believe that you know who they are, but in reality, you have no idea. That’s one of the interesting things about the internet - you can be whoever you want to be. Whether that is your true self or a figment of who you are, the internet is a place where we see the most “masking.” Deciphering the truth from the lies in this digital world can be challenging.

I’ll tell you a story about an encounter I had early on in the age of technology and computers. Back in the olden days of dial-up internet, we had these things called chat rooms. Haha. Okay, I’ll stop acting like most of you don’t know what the hell dial-up and that whole era of technology looked like because I’m sure that a majority of you experienced it firsthand like me. Anyway, so I was in a chat room talking with random strangers. I really hit it off with this one guy. We liked a lot of the same music and had a similar style. He sent me some pictures and I thought he was attractive. We had good conversations. It was a good friendship so far, so after talking with him for a few months I decided to set up a meeting. I decided to be on the safe side just in case and take a friend with me to meet him for the first time. A friend of mine needed to go visit her boyfriend so she agreed to give me a ride to the location and agreed to leave me there while she ran to her boyfriend’s house only if I was comfortable. If I wanted her to stay she agreed that she would stay with me. We drove the 30 minutes into town and approached the location in her pickup truck. As we came closer to the building I could see a guy standing outside of the building (it was a bar) and he was smoking a cigarette. He was wearing all black, chains hanging off of his pants, and a front-facing black baseball-style cap. I knew that had to be him. We stopped in front of the building and he walked towards the truck on the driver's side where my friend was sitting. Upon reaching the window, he looked absolutely nothing like the picture he had sent me. In fact, he was much older than the picture he had sent me. Yes, you can laugh, your friendly neighborhood witch Kavita was officially catfished before catfishing was a thing. *cue laughter* He had an extremely creepy energy coming off of him (and not the good kind). He asked what we were up to, and I told him we had some errands to run, but that I just wanted to stop by and say hi. He was eyeballing me like a piece of meat. I grew intensely uncomfortable. The tension in the air was so thick you could cut it with a knife. My friend sensed that this was not the meeting I had intended and explained to him that we had to go, but that it was good meeting him and quickly drove away. She began laughing, looked over at me with a sheepish smile, and said, “what in the fuck was that?!” 

Oh, the early days of the internet. It was the wild west. It still is to a certain extent, but back then it was a much different time. My story paints an important picture about how people can easily put on a mask to impress others or to lure in their prey. I’ll never be certain of that man’s intention, but he lied about many things for one reason or another and that’s not cool. 

Looking at masks from a literal perspective and their origin, the first masks are from at least 9000 years ago. They were thought to have been used for occult rituals in countries like China and Africa. Some masks were to ward off evil spirits, while others were used for disguise, entertainment, or even for religious worship. The earliest masks were made from tree bark and leather. Some of these masks were in the shape of a human face, however, some were shaped like animal faces. Animal face masks often symbolized the connection between native people and nature. Many tribes and ancient cultures (some of which still exist today) gave utmost importance to nature, animals, and the world around them. As time went on, sometimes animal masks were used in sync with someone’s zodiac as a form of personal representation.

Masks have come a long way since their invention. Today masks can be used for protection (as we know all too well in this day and age), as well as to supply oxygen and other drugs during procedures or in life-threatening situations. We see people wear masks on Halloween (counting the days over here!) as well as for social gatherings, such as a masquerade-themed party or on New Year’s Eve. 

So, we’ve talked about metaphorical masks as well as masks in the literal sense. I hope that you were able to take something from this blog. Whether you learned something new that you found interesting or maybe you even learned something about yourself through that personality quiz. Until next month, be easy and stay safe out there my fellow earth wanderers. 

<3 - K

Cryptic Mystic Blog by PsychVVitch @psychvvitch

www.LaMorteXiii.com

[starlit-pathways]

rules: tag people you would like to know/catch up with❤️

thank you so much @faeinthefog for tagging me, you have such incredible taste???? (as always) also, brb adding piranesi to my already-too-long tbr list

...speaking of lists that are far too long!! *cracks knuckles* let's get down to business!!!!

last song: excluding my many varied writing playlists, then probably eclipse by moonbyul or love poem by iu, including my writing playlists then this was my last listen

last movie: the prom. didn't personally vibe with it but i know it meant a lot to some (personally, i feel like a lot of what it was trying to do has already been done better by other films—like ek ladki ko dekha toh aisa laga). it had very pretty colours in it?? and i definitely wouldn't pass up the chance to play emma in an actual musical, but i feel like the story itself is too much of "aaaaand THIS is how the Gay Struggle™‬ applies to the average straight person!!!" which I don't even mind in a story that's done WELL (again, see ek ladki ko dekha toh aisa laga, or even one of my favourite books; the seven husbands of evelyn hugo) but i don't personally feel like it was done well enough here to pass it off

currently watching: oh no. a LOT. uhhhh okay let's try counting

1) godless—a miniseries on netflix which is v. good and very beautiful; essentially a story about fatherhood, masculinity and the loss/lack of it in a historical "wild west" type setting (it's a lot more diverse than it sounds. i promise.)

2) the fresh prince of bel-air—i shouldn't have to describe this one to many people lol, but it's basically a comedy about a quick-witted, very street-smart boy who goes to live with his very wealthy and privileged family in bel-air. it's very funny, and very heartwarming but i'm only a couple episodes in so far.

3) my mister—i'm only a few episodes into this drama myself but. damn. it's a show about two very broken, wearied people whose lives are falling apart in different ways (a very principled slightly older man, and a very... alternatively principled younger woman), who find each other and help each other heal. i've seen their relationship described as "everything but romantic", though the subject of romance and the nature of their relationship is questioned in the show and sometimes by the two characters

4) taskmaster—this one's just FUN, and also quite honestly pure chaos. i'm trading favourite shows with a friend, and damn if i'm not having a blast with this one. it's basically about a group of comedians who get given a set of tasks/challenges to do, to see who does them best—it has the exact same vibe of the joke "how many comedians does it take to change a lightbulb?". if nobody watches anything else of the show, i implore them to at LEAST watch this tree wizard clip. it's a masterpiece.

5) rick and morty—probably not my favourite type of show (monster of the week's not my usual style), but still good if you're it's intended audience. trading this with another friend, and i'm very much enjoying the experience of trash-talking all of the adult characters every episode with them.

6) mr. iglesias—this one's a very new addition. am also watching it with a friend. comedy about found family in a classroom full of underprivileged kids and the one teacher who really cares about them. i like it! i love marisol a lot as a character and mr. iglesias is very wholesome

re-watching:

7) the untamed—i'm going to be watching this show in some capacity for the rest of my life. i'm on my seventh watch by now and it never diminishes in quality. it's a truly epic introspective character exploration, about a quick-minded, entirely chaotic and very free-spirited man who dies and comes back in quite literally the opening moments of the show. you get to see his descent from being the world's envy to being the world's villain. it's a wonderful fantasy series about perception, the nature of morality, of family (born, raised and chosen) and about building a better world. did i mention that the main character is—as far as chinese censorship laws would allow—very bisexual and the story very heavily features a love story between him and another man? this was the edit that got me into it (it has spoilers but without context it won't make any sense anyway)

8) healer—what a drama. this is all about the power of information—how being informed and making information available can heal a nation that was built to be corrupt. starring a character who is basically a man who is a much poorer batman (kind of like a batman for hire?) with superman's love life (the show's got one of the best and most valid love triangles i've ever seen—and that's coming from somebody who typically HATES love triangles with a burning passion) and a woman who is feisty and strong-willed but not in an overbearing way? as well as amazing action, from somebody who normally can't stand action. i love the chemistry between the two romantic leads and just. i love the three leading characters, and a great deal of the periphery ones a lot. this show is absolutely incredible, would highly recommend

9) it's okay to not be okay/psycho but it's okay—a show that says neurodivergency and found family rights!!!! it's a very healing and introspective drama, but equally very intense/gripping/interesting? the chemistry between the two leads is astounding, and i just really love the amount of empathy this show has? it's truly stunning to watch and experience. starring an absolute badass of a woman, who acts almost entirely on impulse and communicates with the world through storytelling and fairytales, alongside a very kind and nurturing man who doesn't know how to communicate when he's miserable and an autistic man, who struggles deeply with his own fight for independence (i wasn't too sure on him at first, but he grows into just as much of an equally important character as the other two and i loved his arc).

currently reading: the earthsea quartet, by ursula le guin—i'm really loving it! it's probably not one of my favourites (yet), but she has such an interesting way of building up her world, and there's such a strong sense of compassion in every word she writes.

also i've recently found and fallen in love with this fic series. it's very nsfw and modern au's aren't usually my thing for historical (or even semi-historical) fiction/fantasy, but there's just something about sex worker!wei wuxian and translator!(and also secret fashion nerd!)lan wangji both being absolute disasters and also really cute and really repressed but also being neurodivergent and disabled characters (i'm SO here for autistic!lan wangji, traumatised!wei wuxian and chronically ill!yanli all being happy) and getting therapy that really appeals to me.

currently craving: crisps. always. of the salt and vinegar variety (this specific variety especially), of course, but there's never a day that passes when i'm not craving crisps

this was really fun!!! now for the worst part of this............ tagging. OKAY. so... please know that nobody is under any obligation to do, or even acknowledge, this—and also, if i missed you, you see this and you WANT to, then consider the act of seeing/hearing this a formal invitation

@ethereal-sserendipity @lillb5678 @genericfandomusername456 @mars-aria @ikatella @juliedohbigny @multiplequestionmarks @itiredwriter @myrim-anna-rose @gaysofmyheart

[books-and-milkshakes]

So I left my little safe corner here on tumblr and journeyed into the wild west that is social media. It was a mistake, let me tell you. I have seen some truly appaling things said, but the one that irritated me the most was that certain people claim that Betty has had an easy life and she is making stupid mistakes for no reason.

Now everyone has their bias when it comes to this show and that is fine. But I have my own bias as well and I’m gonna defend her.

I hate the way Betty has been treated by this show (a thing I could argue for every character to be fair). She never gets a win. Sure, she is in a loving relationship, but when you take her relationship with Jughead away, she doesn’t have anything happy in her life. She doesn’t even have a pet project that makes her feel accomplished at times. Here me out.

Jughead has the serpents where he can spend his time and energy on and make him feel accomplished. He is a freaking gang leader of the most wholesome gang ever (he is still the leader right?). He also has a family that, while dysfunctional in their own right, loves him and want the best for him. I would argue that he has the best family right now. He even has his writing that people are taking notice off (I’m not arguing that Jughead isn’t traumatized or hasn’t had a difficult life. I’m just saying that he has good things going for him too). Veronica has her several businesses and Archie has his 20000 hobby’s.

What I’m trying to say is, they all have plotlines where they are doing something productive, something they love. Whereas Betty’s plotlines are all about her hurt and trauma. Even the whole FBI thing this season was all about her supposed serial killer genes (shudders). And whenever it does seem like she is about to get a win and be actually happy, it gets ripped away from her.

Now speaking of those trauma’s.

Betty has been emotionally and mentally abused by her mother for years. We found out that she has also been manipulated by her father since childhood. She was stalked and manipulated by a serial killer who turned out to be her father. She did a striptease in a club full of older men and was immediately broken up with afterwards (still one of the worst things to have happened on this show). She has been held at gunpoint several times. She was locked up in  the sister’s of quiet mercy and force fed drugs. She had to save her mother from an almost drowning. Said mother then left her to join a cult. She was almost lobotomized. She was almost killed by her own father several times. She watched her own father get shot.

And through almost all those things she was alone and isolated from all the other characters. It’s amazing that the girl is still able to somewhat function normally. This show truly feels like the Betty torture show sometimes. I would love to get a cathartic episode where Betty deals with her trauma’s. Hell, they even could have made this whole Archie thing somewhat more believable if they addressed it in such a way. Instead her trauma’s are often forgotten. Even the therapy episode this season was more about Alice’s (shitty) redemption arc than about Betty.

Huge sigh.

This whole storyline was a big yikes and I’m not even gonna touch that. Of course you are allowed to be frustrated at characters, but some people are a little too eager to burn this teenage girl at the stake. They want her to get punished, which is weird because I think she has been getting punished for about 2 years now.

[stonerbughead]

Maria watches friday night lights (#26)

5x03 here we are, Julie’s bad decisions are piling up! (I watched 5x04+5x05 too, just gotta edit all my ramblings into coherency.)

under the cut:

Wow the level of Lions pride there now is is truly amazing. It’s wild that Buddy now owns this East Dillon watering hole! Weirdly like...growth? Given how many different types of people are gathered to celebrate this team that was revitalized only a year ago? Wild.

Uh oh, why does Vince’s father getting out of prison seem like a bad thing. God things were finally going well for him!

Also love how I was equally as disturbed as Vince was by his mom cleaning, knew something was up!

Omg the video with Maura went viral! 2,000 hits. That’s like everyone their age right? 😬

“We didn’t do any of this crap when we were kids.” Tami’s look of “yeah right” made me lol

“You think maybe people change? You changed.” I was about to say it but then Vince did: “I don’t know. I ain’t gone to jail.” Bc the problem is — the prison system ensures that people remain in a permanent underclass once paroled, making it nearly impossible to escape the cycle. so unfortunately it seems very unlikely Vince’s dad changed for the better while in a prison, which is an inherently violent and traumatizing place to be, let alone for five years when he already had a track record for treating your mom like trash...oh babe.

Oh nooo Buddy Jr. is smoking weed. West coast, brother! Lol

Yikes this is really sad, Tami is like trying to subtly be like to Maura, ‘sooo did seeing a bunch of guys passing you around while drunk on video like...maybe traumatize you a bit?’ And Maura’s like ‘WE WERE HAVING FUN HAVE YOU EVER PARTIED.’ Hello, internalized misogyny and a need for therapy, plz honey. Seems like her parents are a lot angrier than she is!

“daddy issues.com, I feel you” is literally what I nervously sang out loud at Vince and his father reuniting.

Omg they’re forcing the girls alone to listen to a really boring lecture on alcohol? This just doesn’t seem effective.

Holy shit two of the football players were making fun of the video.....? Disgusting. Rape culture is the fact that people are making fun of a girl being passed around like a rag doll!

The TA giving Julie a C- bc he’s “spent time with her” and “knows she can do better” is super manipulative and creepy and oh boy I hate this harmful dynamic. He’s literally GRADING HER PAPERS. Nope nope nope.

oh god not the ol “weekly salon for promising students the professor just so happens to host” trope! OH GOD

Ooooh making Jess equipment manager??? Tami is the best. Aw Jess is so excited! I’m so glad that within five seasons they included a character like her who is a girl who also grew up with football and loves it more than some of the guys on this show do!

Ooooh they’re doing shirts and ties instead of jerseys on game days and community outreach. Mmhmm ok revive your image

Vince is losing his confidence and motivation as a captain now his dad’s home noooooo

Lol I knew Buddy was gonna blame the weed on “that hippie Kevin.” So predictable.

“You know maybe it’s not about you and it’s not about Pam, it’s about your son, who happens to need you.” YES ERIC TELL HIM

“Nobody said being a dad’s gonna be easy.” OOH OOH Eric give my dad one of these talks next

“Girls in locker rooms are bad ideas.” I can’t. Lol Tami got lil toddler Grace to say “think about it, daddy!!” She doesn’t play nice.

LMAO I have never related to Vince more than in this moment: “did you talk to your dad?” “Yep.” “how did it go?” *sprints away without answering*

Okay here we are, douchey assholes at the ~salon~ and Julie with a glass of champagne and a devious smile looks like she’s on a mission.

“You must be so proud to have such a distinguished wife.” Oh Jesus TA’s wife’s away on a “sabbatical in Boston.” I see where this illicit romance is going and THANKS I HATE IT

Oh geez Vince doesn’t like Jess being equipment manager? She looks so cute and excited!

Oh boy, Maura is clearly going through some shit, she is relishing in being caught. I know that Tami is judging making out in a supply closet as a concept, but it can be hot—however, in this particular case, i have to agree on not romantic.

“Everyone thinks that I’m married but I don’t feel like I am.” Lines men say before they cheat on their wife with an underage student under their tutelage they shouldn’t be pursuing even if they’re single.

“You’re an awesome girl, Julie Taylor.” Key word ‘GIRL.’ Now he’s saying he feels “comfortable with her” and “if it were a different time and a different place.” This is what grooming sounds like.

Ewwwwwww

Oh noooo Julie you’ve been in college for like five minutes and you’ve already fucked a married TA. Oh honey NO.

Poor Vince. So much trauma between his mom and his dad.

Wowwww the transition from Vince fighting with his parents to walking in suit and tie past all the fans with signs 😭

Yes Eric reiterating he’s proud of Vince and so are his teammates after he goes off — I love how he can like tell something is off with him. He shuts the door and gets Vince to explain the home situation in like five mins.

“He never taught me how to better! How am I supposed to be better?” Omg yessss I feel you babe 😭

Oh god is Vince’s dad showing up gonna cost them this game

NOPE he just did an INSANE touchdown instead!!! Go Vince! “They call that the Tinker shuffle. They get a flag for excessive celebrating and who can blame them?”

“That was a hell of an effort. That’s character, Vince.” Awwww Eric’s so proud of him. His dad is sad. Welp, no thanks to you.

Omg their 3 and 0 East Side cheer at the bar sounds so much like the cheers our predominantly Black football team would do at our pep rallies I love it. This team has so much more heart and soul than the Panthers.

Omg Buddy Jr. is coming back to town???? Intrigue.

TA apologized and and acknowledged he knew it was wrong for teacher-student reasons! Yikes! Bc you know it’s gonna happen again!

“Only 17 years old and you’re already better than I ever was.” Damn Vince’s dad apologizing for not asking to move in after seeing him shine at the game, #growth

“Tonight for the first time in my life I knew what pride felt like. I mean, boy, that was crazy out there. You the man for real.” OMGGGG VINCE IS CRYING wow 🥺

[cannabistherapy]

Somerset West Cannabis And Chilli Warming Therapy

Cannabis Therapy clarifies how cannabis oil treats malignancy:

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The initial step is to acquire a firm understanding about how malignancy develops and flourishes inside the body. On the off chance that we comprehend what keeps malignancy cells alive. We will actually want to clarify precisely how cannabidoil (CBD) and THC (tetrahydrocannabinol) deliberately assault malignancy causing cells. CBD and THC are substance compounds or cannabinoids got from the cannabis plant.

How Cannabis Oil treats Cancer

How Do Cannabinoids Treat Cancer?

THC and CBD assault the malignancy causing cells. These cannabinoids abbreviate the life expectancy of the harmful cells and power the malignancy into a type of retreat. The malignant growth cells think that its difficult to replicate with continuous CBD and THC dosing. At last, Somerset West Cannabis And Chilli Warming Therapy the fact of the matter is arrived at where there is negative development. At this stage, reduction is entirely conceivable.

What we know up until now:

Malignancy cells are not normal for sound cells as they don't kick the bucket however proceed to spread and increase. At the point when malignant growth patients take cannabis oils continually for a period, they maintain the metabolic tension on disease cells to bite the dust and to quit multiplying. It is in this manner protected to say that cannabis oil can execute your malignancy.

Studies have uncovered that THC and CBD communicate with CB1 and CB2 cannabinoid receptors on malignant growth cells which supports expanded ceramide. This powers the malignant growth cells to end it all, or experience modified cell demise, which is fundamental for the upkeep of ordinary cell homeostasis and is a significant physiological reaction to numerous types of cell stress.

Why more logical assets should be spent on examining the force of Cannabis oil:

How Cannabis Oil treats Cancer

Malignancy is one infection everybody fears. Disease slaughters. A few group do endure malignancy and have lived to recount their accounts. This is on the grounds that malignancy can be dealt with. Malignancy has numerous side effects, contingent upon where it begins. These all add to making the illness truly awkward. In any case, there is trust. Cannabis oil can treat disease indications. Examination did in research centers likewise uncovers that cannabis oil can invert the spread of malignancy.

Why its so successful:

How Cannabis Oil treats Cancer

CBD and THC Water the Cancer Wild Fire

How Cannabis Oil treats Cancer

Looking at the situation objectively in basic terms, disease resembles a rapidly spreading fire. The THC and CBD are the water. Assuming you have a furious fire, at first water doesn't actually help. The water will in general vanish on contact with the fire and its environmental factors. Yet, you continue to put on the pressing factor and gradually you thump the fire back. In the end the water will overwhelm the fire and its proceeded with development. In a comparable light, cannabis oil does this to disease causing cells. It is a cycle. It relies upon which stage the malignancy is. Cannabis Therapy oils start the way toward pushing the disease back.

We accept that cannabis oil is an amazing counteractant to malignant growth. Our cannabis oil is just created from the best clinical evaluation cannabis accessible. You can be guaranteed that the item you get is produced by the best guidelines conceivable.

Contact Us Cannabis Therapy 1 Morkel Street, Somerset West Cape Town 7130 South Africa Phone: +27 21 813 6422 Email: info@cannabistherapy.co.za Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/Canntherapy/ Twitter: https://twitter.com/CannabisTherap1 Official Site: https://cannabistherapy.co.za/

[staranon95]

A Little Phenylethylamine

sat down and wrote a little piece for the Expedition Wild West series for two specific people in fandom.

happy belated birthday to @shadeofazmeinya​! i hope you enjoy this one because it’s 100% fluff

and to @sorcererinslytherin​ <3 <3 <3

Word Count: 1500+

...

“Good morning, Ryan.”

“Good morning, Meg.”

Ryan eases himself into Meg’s welcoming and brightly lit office. The lights don’t bother him as much as they used to. It’s not like they’re putting him on the spot like he felt they used to when he first started these sessions.

“So how are you doing today?” she asks.

The sessions usually start off candidly. Talking as if they were friends. Talking about common interests, things they’ve done this week. It eases Ryan into the atmosphere that is known as ‘therapy.’ To be honest, it’s been a long time coming. He hasn’t been in therapy since the incident of The King’s Vengeance. The time when his crew went insane and killed each other and he was the sole survivor in the bloody aftermath. He’d been twenty-three at the time and didn’t think he’d come out of it. But he was a referred to a therapist and went through six months of therapy before he felt good enough to head out on his own again.

But it’s only now that he’s realizing the incident has stuck with him for longer than he would like. It screwed him up royally, and he’s trying to unlearn a lot of bad social habits he’s picked up because of his trauma and also because he just wants to be a better partner for his boys—Jeremy, Michael, and Gavin deserve that at the very least. They’ve been so patient with him, weathered the ups and downs he’s had, and shown him he’s worthy of love and companionship.

After this time of speaking candidly, Meg likes to take it to the deeper subjects. The ones Ryan purposefully ignores otherwise he feels like he’s taking ten steps back in his own life trajectory.

“It sounds like you’ve had a nice break returning to academics. How’s the sabbatical been?”

It’s not a true sabbatical, but taking leave time from the Hunter’s Achievement in order to publish some of his research has been a good time to reset himself. It did, however, mean that he’s been apart from his boys for a few months now. The Hunter’s Achievement is scheduled to dock within the next few days and then he’ll be back on board.

“I think it’s been good,” he says and he earnestly means it. “I’ve been able to do a lot of things I’ve been meaning to for a while now. Finished a lot of passion projects, and I’m honestly ready to get back out there again.”

“That’s great. I’ve read a lot of your papers. And even if the terminology is a bit lost on me, you do have a great way with words. Especially when you describe the worlds you’ve visited.”

“I’ll admit, I have missed fieldwork. I guess it’s always been my passion.” He knows now he was never truly meant to stuff himself away in an office grading papers. Despite his experience, he loved going to new worlds. It’s been his passion since he was a child on an agriculture planet, looking up at the stars and being told it was never his destiny to go to them.

“I bet it’s going to be nice to see your partners as well.” Meg has the smile, the smile that says she’s immensely proud of him.

Ryan, who’s still getting used to talk anything about his private life, blushes. “It will be. And I know it will be. It’s been nice to know that I can be apart from them. Not in any bad way, but I still like having a sense of who I am. But I do miss them terribly and I am literally counting down the hours until they arrive.”

“That’s so good to hear. Ryan, I’ve really enjoyed our time together. You honestly have a very good understanding of yourself, your dreams, and your boundaries. It’s been a pleasure getting to know you and I can’t wait to see what you accomplish next.”

They share a hug just before he leaves. It wasn’t as heavy as a session as he thought it was going to be. She’s helped him untangle a lot about himself. His trepidation of intimacy, his social anxiety. Everything makes a lot more sense now, and while he understands therapy isn’t the be all end all of his recovery, he doesn’t feel as uncomfortable in his body as he used to.

The hours remaining until he can be reunited with his boys can’t go by any faster. He’s at the dock waiting for them with his feet planted firmly on the ground. The space elevator is a terrifying and magnificent structure and each time he sees it ascend and descend, he gets a little bit more excited.

He spots his boys before they see him, and to be a shit about it, he holds himself back. Waits until they’re heading to the gates to be processed and walking on through before he approaches them silently.

“Can I help you carry your bags?” he says when he’s standing right next to Jeremy.

Jeremy startles, face surprised before it morphs into an expression of unbridled glee. “Ryan! It’s so good to see you, man!” He wraps his arms around him tightly and rocks them back and forth.

“You couldn’t have been more of a prick, could you?” Michael says. “Now are you going to carry our bags or not? Don’t think I’m not taking you up on that offer.”

“It’s the Rye-bread here to take us ho-ome.” Gavin’s sing-song voice is something Ryan has honestly missed. He’s missed all of them equally and terribly.

“All right,” Ryan says, detaching himself from Jeremy so he can help them with their bags. “Let’s get you guys somewhere comfortable. What’s everyone thinking for dinner?”

He sees them back to his pad. It’s got enough space for the four of them without feeling too crowded. Just cozy enough. Ryan breaks out the food from his fridge and sets out to make a home cooked meal for his boys. They deserve it. Transitioning back to real gravity can be rough, and the transition back to planet can sometimes be rough and unsettling. He wants them all relaxed, chatting idly in their excited (and sometimes loud) voices as Ryan cooks.

“Ryan’s pulling out all the stops today,” Michael says. “This is some really good beer. Where’d you get this shit?”

“Went to the market and asked what was popular.” Ryan shrugs. He doesn’t drink, so he took the first recommendation he got. At least it’s a winner.

He serves up four plates of the same food—a form of local cuisine he picked up and found to be delicious. Lots of fresh foods, noodles, and spices. The boys tuck in immediately and praise Ryan for his cooking ability. The compliments sit warmly in Ryan and carry him through the rest of the night.

“I’d say the most fun we had was when we got stuck in that asteroid field for like two weeks was it?” Gavin says. They’re all reclining in Ryan’s living space now, entertaining him with some of their best stories. “Yeah. Stuck in there because we drifted too far. Got sent out a few times though. Did some testing.”

“Find anything cool?”

“Oh, dude. Did we ever,” Michael says. “There was like this old battle station. Draconian in origin, was it?”

Gavin nods.

“Yeah. We got to go out and explore it for a bit. See if there were any artifacts we could take.”

“Super creepy though, just finding that huge thing sitting out there,” Jeremy says. “Gives me the creeps just thinking about it.”

“Oh, oh, oh!” Gavin says. “Remember the time we got to go that wedding? It was a week long celebration! I thought we’d be done in by the fairies from how many times people asked me to keep dancing.”

“It was a good time though,” Jeremy says. “Ryan, I think you would’ve hated it though.”

“Are you kidding?” Michael says. “He’d fit right in with the old crowd just sitting around the tables trading battles stories. He would’ve thrived there.”

It’s easy to sit back and just listen to them speak. He’s missed their voices, despite getting video messages from them every week. It’s just not the same when they aren’t here in person.

They talk themselves out by the end of the night, full of warm food, good beer, and finally resting with each other.

His bed is circle shaped, a unique quirk that came with the place. But it comfortably holds all four of them, which is another conversation entirely. All of them want to sleep next to him, and Ryan lets them bicker over him. He’s preening and he knows it, but he deserves this.

When they finally get settled, Ryan finds himself caged in on all sides, Gavin using his slimmer build to worm his way under Ryan’s arm in between him and Michael with Jeremy on Ryan’s other side. It’s comfortable and neat and Ryan wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Mm, love you, missed you,” Gavin says, breathing warmly against Ryan’s chest.

He can’t fight the smile as it creeps over his face in the dark. “Love you guys too.”