#My therapist actually taught me that one. Very good! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jiminjamms · 8 months

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sex therapy :: 21. daddy toji

chapter tags/warnings: **can be read as a stand-alone!** daddy toji, in every sense of the word. toji also calls himself daddy. unprotected sex. creampies. megumi is down the hall! masturbation. exhibitionism. toji likes that it’s his cousin’s wife that he’s fucking. infidelity/adultery. possessiveness. sexual frustration. degradation. praising. pet names (‘princess’ and ‘sweetheart’). manipulative undertones. family drama. strong language.

word count: 3.6k

notes: tattooed dr. fushiguro can only be a gentleman for so long when it's his little cousin's wifey around. likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated. xoxo

fic masterlist | 01. 02. 03. 04. 05. 06. 07. 08. 09. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33.

“Why don’t you give daddy a show?”

Nothing could make you feel more exposed than this very moment on Toji Fushiguro’s bathroom counter—your bosom heaving from irregular breaths, your arms holding up your body, and your legs spreading across the granite surface so that you could offer up a good view. So that you could put your naked self on display.

Just for him. Just for your sex therapist.

Just for Dr. Fushiguro.

You gulped while pressing your back against the cold ceramic walls, hoping for some relief from your impending humiliation. “E-Excuse me?”

“C’mon, sweetheart,” Toji crooned, and the pet name had your heart skipping a beat. Lazily, he dragged a lone finger from your stomach to your center, prodding right at your soaking entrance despite your efforts to shrink away. “Don’t be shy. I’m just your therapist. Let me see what you’ve learned.”

With much endearment, he watched you writhe. Being in the spotlight scared you, but he knew you would hate to disappoint.

At the very least, you should demonstrate some appreciation.

“Like what?” you asked, voice barely above a squeak.

“Well,” and amusement riddled his grin, “show daddy what he had taught you, baby.”

And goodness did all this daddy talk really turn you on. Toji could see how your figure tensed at the words, how you clenched around nothing from sheer need. (Did you think he would not notice?)

“Please,” you sighed, poorly hiding how your breath hitched. “Please don’t call yourself that.”

“Call myself what?”

Obviously a rhetorical question, yet Toji loved the bafflement on your ditzy face nevertheless.

“You know…‘daddy,’” you murmured, uncomfortable to the point you were staring at the floor as you spoke. “Because as someone who loves my dad, and hearing this from someone who actually is a dad, I find the name…disturbing.”

Disturbing but also hot, and Toji could tell.

“Don’t lie, princess. You like when I call myself that,” he chuckled. Pinching at your waist, he chortled in that same giddy manner whenever he felt particularly amused. “So, who’s going to be daddy’s obedient little girl?”

He noticed that you were doing that thing again whenever you were a little nervous: pursing your lips into a quivering pout and twisting at the meaningless rings on your fourth digit. Too loyal for your own good. Maybe that was what Naoya really loved about you, enough to keep you as his cute little trophy wife.

Swallowing loudly, in the end, you responded, “Me.”

Using one uneven breath to center yourself, your hands steadily grazed over your hips and your thighs before your dear fingers rested above your clit. Nothing could beat the embarrassment from how you flinched at your own contact.

Here went nothing.

Timidly, you drew your middlemost fingers through your folds and circled the digits around your entrance. The opening was warm, sensitive, and utterly soaked. The slick that had slipped past those puffy lips allowed you to push one, and then two fingers inside as your back arched gently at the stimulation.

A dull pleasure started to thrum in your body especially as you brought your ample juices back in using slow, deliberate motions.

To much frustration, your dainty digits couldn’t quite stroke that special spot within you with much expertise. Why wasn’t Toji helping? You wanted him to help. But, if you didn’t think too hard, you could lose yourself in the sensuality of your ministrations and imagine Toji’s fingers curling inside you instead. His fingers were larger and thicker and longer, after all.

While Toji’s true emotions had always been as mystifying as the man himself, never had that troubled you more than now. Those steely green eyes had been staring at you for what felt like hours now.

Did he like what he saw? Did he want more?

The people pleaser within you was just looking for a reaction—any reaction—to validate the hard and honest work you were putting in.

“Good kitty,” he complimented suddenly, as though he had been reading you like an open book all along. He did not realize since when, but he had begun stroking his cock through his pants.

How could he not? You had been listening so well, and his free hand reached down to rub tight circles at your puffy clit.

“Toji!” you shrieked immediately, body caving in.

“Keep going, sweetheart,” he commanded, dipping his index and middle fingers in as well, his thumb still drawing tight movements at your precious button.

His fingers slid against yours, aided by the thick coat of arousal that lubricated the movements, and his dick twitched from excitement, a situation exacerbated when he relished in the way you angled your hips to accommodate all four fingers plunging into your sopping cunt.

“Don’t stop working on yourself.”

“I won’t,” you struggled to whimper.

“This is nice, isn’t it? When someone else is touching you, too.” His statement was softened by the same tone he liked to use when playing that ‘friendly neighborhood sex therapist’ role. “Your fingers are delicate, but they can’t reach all the places mine can, can they?”

“No, they can’t,” you breathed out in helpless agreement, shaking pathetically at the combined ministrations. “Everything feels better when you are the one finger fucking me.”

Toji hummed deeply in satisfaction. “I know, princess.”

He lowered his head to press his lips into your jaw, but the subtle softness in his searing kisses convinced you to tilt your head gently and bring your unoccupied hand up to run up his hard triceps and dig into the jet-black ink peeking from his sleeves.

In response, Toji sank his teeth into your skin every so often, eliciting your squeals.

Painful. Yes, this was painful.

But more than painful, the gush that flooded your veins was fucking phenomenal.

“What’s wrong?” Toji asked innocently, biting harder as your nails pressed visible crescent marks into his tattoos. “I only want to taste you,” and he soothed the sore spots by licking the assaulted areas, just to repeat the process on another target.

Pussy feeling empty but needy, you shifted on the countertop in order to grind desperately against your therapist’s clothed crotch.

“Please,” you mewled, now begging for Toji’s attention rather than cowering away. “Please fuck me.”

Funny.

Just an hour ago, you were bawling about your loser husband. Naoya Zenin this. Naoya Zenin that. Well, duh. Of course, his baby cousin was an asshole partner.

Now, here you were, pleading for Toji Fushiguro’s cock?

Toji rewarded your change of heart with a deep kiss pressed on your lips, a gesture that you passionately reciprocated. Even as he devoured your mouth like a starved man, your tongue fought like a maniac into his mouth, satisfied sighs slipping from your lips to his.

Only when there was an unexpected slam coming from Megumi’s door did you two pull away, faces only centimeters apart and connected by an almost translucent string of saliva.

Toji panted, watching your chest rise and fall from similarly irregular breathing.

If nothing else stopped him, he would be falling onto his knees right now from how dazed you appeared: face flushed, lips parted, and lids heavy.

But both he and you had one concern in mind right now.

Megumi.

Given the sound earlier, Toji awaited footsteps from the younger Fushiguro.

Was he grabbing a midnight snack from the kitchen downstairs? Was he planning to pace the halls to alleviate stress?

Or worse yet, was he heading to the bathroom?

If his son really did walk into this scene, discovering what his father was doing to his sweet and pretty guest several doors away, Toji would be speechless because the idea was purely mortifying.

Also a little sexy.

But anyway.

“I’m sure he just closed and locked his door for the evening,” Toji deduced when the boy’s footsteps never came.

Immediately, your shoulders slumped with ensuing relief.

“Thank goodness,” you sighed, still tense and high-strung. “We don’t want Megumi to hear us,” you pointed out, completely oblivious to how loud you had been when merely kissing. “Let’s wait for him to sleep first. I don’t want us to get caught.”

The way you cared this much was adorable.

“Why would we have to wait, though?” Toji pointed out, and his tongue swiped over his scar. “I can be quiet. But the real question is: can you be quiet?”

At first, you were stunned and silent.

But after a long while, you gulped and your neck bobbed noticeably. "Yeah. I…can be quiet, too.”

“Good girl," and at that, Toji flashed a quick and lascivious grin. “Then, why don’t we test that out?”

Not waiting for your reply, he grabbed the collar of his white shirt and dragged the top off his shoulders.

His movements were slow, just so he could catch your marveling reaction as he revealed his bare torso, but the fabric had been too fitting and tight for his body anyway.

As soon as he pulled his shirt over his head and off his body, your eyes locked on his body to admire his brawny and toned physique. But more stunningly was how Toji Fushiguro was a mural of tattoos, intricate artworks that had been carefully selected and embedded into his torso—stylized letters, entwined violets, and hyper-realistic scenery. What demanded the most attention, though, was a prominent phoenix that covered his right chest, emerging victorious from a plume of smoke and ashes, its feathers spanning into his shoulder and back.

Easily, you were enchanted. You didn't have a chance to view his tattoos before. But Toji himself had always been enchanting.

“Come closer,” the man commanded, tone low and gravelly. He dragged his waistband down until his hardened dick sprang free with great force. His cock was swollen and red and violently angry, precum beading at the tip after he had long neglected himself from his release. "I’ve missed you."

You shifted forward on the countertop.

“Then do anything to me.”

Just to test you, he experimented a little, pinching your nipples with the knuckles of his fingers and smiling like a mad dog when you squeaked. "Anything?"

"Yes," you breathed out, nodding and back arching into his touch.

Obviously, you were too lost in arousal to comprehend the power placed into your tattooed therapist's hands, and Toji silently wished that Naoya Zenin could hear his wife begging for someone else like this.

He patted your cheek and cooed.

So silly, so cock drunk, so desperate.

That was what you were, and he wasn’t even inside you yet.

You reached between your legs to grab at his dick, lining the tip up to your entrance as Toji groaned from the contact.

"How are you so wet for me?” he hissed, gritting his teeth hard.

“Please, please, come on—” After a long bout of negligence, you had become incredibly whiny and desperate, seeking attention and affection like never before. “I’m too turned on. Just…please ruin me.”

Toji had been close to bursting already, but an intense flash stifled him when your words registered as music to his ears, his large hands helping you swipe his dick between your folds slowly. Teasing them both.

He had been well lubricated from the precum that slipped from the head, his massive cock so hard from the anticipation that awaited such that he could feel electricity buzzing at his fingertips. All because he couldn't handle himself when you begged for him like this. Yet, Toji resolved to fuck you with everything he had—for as long as he could, anyway—and slipped himself gradually into your warm and moist heat.

Shudders.

All that filled the room were shudders.

Toji’s eyes darkened as he pressed through the tight resistance, your muscles squeezing around his length. He had to will every fiber within him to not lose himself. He was this close to falling apart, unraveling. Because holy shit, were you fucking tight.

Beneath him, you suppressed a whimper.

“Damn,” you sputtered, abandoning any remaining hesitation and clenching around him. Compared to his pathetic cousin, your therapist was not small by any means. "You feel so good inside of me, Toji."

Ah, hell.

He needed to get you to relax. He could barely move and, if your walls squeezed him any harder, he might just be hurled over the edge and cum all over your thighs, staining your freshly showered body.

“Oh,” he managed to hum in contentment, closing his eyes momentarily so that he could shut down all other senses except for one. His arms wobbled a little, his hands digging hard into your sides as his hips moved slowly—very, very slowly—out before going back in again.

At the languid thrusts, your head fell back and your hips lifted upon instinct, one hand pressed against the counter for stability as the other skimmed over his tattoos. He's so hot. You're so hot. He makes you feel so hot.

Toji growled again when your fingers brushed against the inked phoenix's wings, gliding over his pectoral muscle. He loved being touched like this and only wanted you to examine him more, rewarding you with movements wholly deep and stimulating.

As moans flowed freely from your mouth, Toji would tell you to shut up. After all, Megumi dwelled only a few doors away and must not be forgotten. But how could Toji bring himself to hush the sweet sounds that you sang?

“Yes, just like that,” you whined at some point, fingers clawing into his chest. “Fuck. Fuck, Toji.”

He raised a disapproving brow. “Just Toji?”

“Fuck, daddy.”

And Toji lost his fucking mind.

Since when did you talk like this? Pretty princess with a potty mouth. Who would’ve thought? It was sexy. So goddamn sexy.

"You’re incredible,” he found himself saying.

Toji had never been harder than he was at this moment, his cock like a fucking titanium rod as his listless movements degraded into an onslaught, throbbing and twitching as he replayed your dirty words in his head.

He felt extraordinarily horny, aroused, and invigorated.

Meanwhile, you looked like a fucking fairy—his fucking fairy, to be clear: features glowing golden under the ambient lights, pupils dilated and blown out wide, skin glistening from both water and sweat.

Long ago, Toji figured that you had given up in your attempts to get away from him, the sole struggle from your body being how your walls involuntarily twitched and tensed amidst the storm of pleasure and pain he had brewing within your core.

If only Toji had more hands. That way, he could simultaneously pull at your hair, wrap his fingers around your neck, and swat at your bouncing tits.

In a moment like this, he hated having to choose and grabbed your legs in the end, moving them from the counter to his shoulders. Toji could now go even deeper, and boy, did this new angle  have you seeing stars.

“Oh, goodness,” you blubbered, coughing and drooling and panting. “Oh, that feels so good.”

“I know,” Toji said arrogantly.

Lucky for you, he was a mature man who could hold his load. Other boys didn’t know shit. If they were in his current position, they would have busted their nuts long ago, too impulsive and easily excited to exert much self-control.

Toji, on the other hand, knew how to dig his fat cock into your cervix over and over, brushing that one special spot within you along the way. To make you scream. To keep you addicted. To take his cousin’s wife at his mercy.

The room filled with sounds that resulted from skin contacting skin—squelches and wet smacks—and you were left loud and messy, feeling so good that you could not think straight. 

“Shit, you’re so good to me. Can’t get enough of this pussy,” he grunted, hand pulling back before connecting with the meat of your ass with one loud  slap.

You cried out, fighting back tears that welled from the pain. “That… hurts!”

“But my kitten loves being roughened up, no?” he taunted, licking at his scar again as he observed you: love bites littered over your neck, nipples perked into pebbles, skin marked and slightly bruised.

“I,” several huffs in between, “I can’t take this for much longer. I’m so close. I think I’m going to—”

“Only if you tell me who owns you.”

His words made you whine, and the therapist took great pleasure in the way you contorted. The demand had taken you by surprise because Toji had never denied you the right to your pleasure before. In fact, he had always been the type to coax you to cum, telling you to cream all over him instead.

Tonight, however, he wanted to set things straight. For a while, he had been thinking that he ought to buy you a collar just so you would remember who you actually belonged to—who really taught you what sex feels like—and heat tore through his skin again from the fantasy.

Admittedly, Toji was a tad bit possessive.

But he needed to drill into your head that you were not Sukuna’s or Choso’s or Geto’s.

And most certainly, not Naoya Zenin’s.

“Well?” He was fully aware of what was happening and taking true delight in your futile struggle, knowing exactly what you needed but wanting you to obey him first. Snaking an arm around your body, he pressed his lips to the shell of your ear and purred, “Who knows how to fuck you right?”

“Toji Fushiguro does,” you chanted, lacing your fingers with his, your body in sheer pain from need. “Guys my age could never.”

Which was exactly what he wanted to hear.

“Then cum for me, baby.”

So, you did.

His permission sent you vaulting over the edge, your whole body spasming as your orgasm ripped through.

Your lips parted. Your cheeks hollowed. Your arms wavered.

Despite everything, you continued begging for his cock harder, faster, just like that. At some point, the hand once tangled with your therapist’s now slotted into your mouth to muffle any exclamations of pleasure as the waves continued to ripple fiercely through your body. Throwing your head back against the wall, you could dully feel your teeth puncture the skin between your thumb and pointer finger. Yet, that didn’t bother you, didn’t even hurt, and only served to add to your masochistic satisfaction as your cunt fluttered and clenched around him.

“What a good girl.”

Toji was remorseless as he continued his abuse, the tendons of his hands and arms flexing from the effort needed to keep your lower body still, the tattoos on his wrists appearing pitch black under the glimmer of your juices. The wetness that spilled from you was so abundant, dripping down onto the floor. With any luck, once this was all over, you would have left a mess such that Toji would be forced to assign Megumi to bathroom cleaning duty in the morning.

"I'm gonna cum inside you, baby," was what he managed to say just as his gut suddenly tensed. He couldn't even control it. Without further warning, thick ropes of semen shot from him and into your womb. He grunted loudly, lurid fantasies dissipating as his mind went blank from his climax, his own groan hardly recognizable from how guttural his voice had become.

“Give me all your cum, daddy,” you wailed as you came again, pussy tightening impossibly on his cock and practically massaging every single drop out of him.

Toji was not done, he didn’t want to be done.

Despite his blurred vision and terse jaw, Toji wanted to give you every ounce that he was worth. He gritted his teeth as he fucked up into you, pace irregular and sloppy. He made sure to push every possible milliliter of his seed deep into your stomach, the rest of his load spilling against his balls.

His cock was far too sensitive and overstimulated, but he felt  so goddamn good that he wanted to keep going and going until he was completely spent with nothing more to give.

“Fuck,” he choked, on the brink of tears.

Toji had to take a moment to recover fully, keeping his eyes closed while his chest heaved from the sheer exertion of his orgasm. His breathing was deep, wet, and haggard, and he was blistering hot even without clothes on. His slicked-back hair was soaked with sweat and hung limply in front of his flushed face. As he slumped over, he sensed a new pain in his shoulder, and he guessed that he must have strained something without noticing. Cum inevitably dribbled from your hole as he pulled out, splattering on the floor and mixing with your juices earlier.

He strode toward the bathroom closet, grabbing additional towels.

After wrapping them around you and himself, Toji brought you close to his frame and directed you into his bedroom diagonally across the hall. The rest of the night was quiet, especially since you both were consumed by exhaustion and post-coital haze. You rolled onto his canopied bed without sound, Toji lying next to you and pulling you snugly against his chest. After ensuring that you were okay, he kissed the sweet temple by your forehead and the bruises on your collar, smiling softly when you hummed in response.

He could hardly recall the last time he had felt so warm and so content, wanting nothing more than to cling onto this moment for as long as he could. In the back of his head, his conscience scolded him harshly. He still owed you plenty of explanations. For how he had been hiding his family, his relationships, and his original motive in using you to help him get back at his enemies.

Yet, as he pushed aside these intrusive thoughts and murmured to you ‘Goodnight,’ one thing became clear:

Toji Fushiguro was far too selfish to let you go.

last chapter || next chapter

end notes: This is my first time writing smut that comprehensively includes Toji’s POV. While we have always gotten Y/N's POV in sex, I wanted to include Toji's perspective so that we could get into his psyche a little since he's battling his own demons as well.

taglist: @dissociatingdiva @httpsplanetmarsdotcom @nemoyr @huangfairy @shadowarchon @203steph @agentdedf1sh @cloudybabes @hinativity @lynn-writes-things @illicitwriter @7oji @kikuchimi @piqer @nobody289x @chaoticjojofan @musicisme333 @vvestwoodrose @kumocchin @s-guru @mwahilovemylife @hey-gurls69 @cloudsinthecosmos @moon-mumu-moon @kazscara @obitohno @skilerfrostfairy @funicidals @nico707 @proteovaldez @tsukiyohanayome @marimoares @qirbys @blackdragoncigarette @puffaloxx @shoisae @sakanoshitaa @arizzu @kissditrio @tokyometronetwork @downtown-roponggi @the-cosmos-network

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storiesforallfandoms · 9 months

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sob story ~ hannibal lecter;hannibal

word count: 2292

request?: no

description: in which he takes a liking to one of the new agents, and gets to learn her sad story

pairing: hannibal lecter x female!reader

warnings: swearing, the reader eats food made by hannibal...we all know what that means, mentions of cheating

masterlist (one, two, three)

(Y/N) looked up from her paperwork as a plastic Tupperware container was placed in front of her. Hannibal stood over her, smiling down at her.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“Leftovers from the meal I prepared last night,” he said. “Agent Crawford asked to see me today, so I thought I would drop by your desk to bring you something to eat.”

(Y/N) smiled at him. “You brought this just for me? I must be pretty special.”

But she already knew the answer to that. Hannibal had taken quite the liking to (Y/N) since he first met her only a few weeks ago. She had no idea what it was that drew him to her, and truthfully, neither did Hannibal. She was just a desk agent, not a field agent. She didn’t get to do any of the exciting or impressive stuff. She sat in the FBI offices and waited for paperwork to come in, or brought files to the higher ups, or went to boring meetings that felt like they went on for hours.

That’s how the two of them met, actually. Jack Crawford had asked for a file on a suspect they were looking into for a case. When (Y/N) brought it in to them, Hannibal found himself captivated by her. He introduced himself, taking note of the sweet scent of the perfume she was wearing. When they shook hands, he was almost reluctant to let her go, but he knew he had to let her get back to her job. But ever since that day, whenever Hannibal was at the FBI offices, he made sure he went to speak with (Y/N) even for just a few moments.

Hannibal pulled up a chair next to her desk as (Y/N) opened the plastic container.

“God, it smells so good,” she said. “You have to teach me how to cook sometime. I’m always hearing about your popular dinner parties.”

“I’ve never taught anyone my recipes before. I’m usually a solo cooker.”

“Fine then. Keep your secrets.”

Hannibal chuckled. (Y/N) took a forkful of the food. The minute it touched her tastebuds she couldn’t help the sound that came from her throat. Nearby agents at their own desks looked over at the two of them. (Y/N) covered her face in embarrassment. “I should’ve waited till my break.”

They fell into silence as (Y/N) continued to eat. Hannibal watched her as she would take a bite and continue to work on her paperwork as she chewed. She was wearing a new perfume. It had a more prominent vanilla scent instead of a fruity scent like her last one. She always looked beautiful, but Hannibal found she looked especially so when she was focused on her work. It was when she seemed to be at her most vulnerable, when she wasn’t putting on an act for those around her, that he found she was the most beautiful.

Her phone was placed face up on the desk next to her. It lit up as a message came in. (Y/N) looked over at her phone for a moment before making a face and flipping the phone so the screen was face down on her desk. She turned back to the paperwork in front of her, but Hannibal could tell she wasn’t actually focusing on it.

“Everything alright?” he asked.

It took (Y/N) a moment to realize Hannibal had spoken. She looked up at him and halfheartedly smiled. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You sure? It seems like whatever message you just received wasn’t a good one.”

“Don’t therapist me, Lecter,” (Y/N) said, playfully, as she pointed her fork at him. “It was jut an old friend that I asked not to message me anymore, but they seem very persistent on going against what I want.”

“The friendship didn’t end well, I’d assume.”

(Y/N) shook her head but didn’t elaborate further. She stabbed at the food and pushed it around the container. Hannibal didn’t want to pry. It was his job to get people to tell him their problems, so he could’ve easily gotten (Y/N) to talk if he wanted to. But he decided not to, and that (Y/N) would tell him what was going on if she wanted to.

His ears perked up when she sighed and put the fork down again. “It’s a long story, and I don’t want to bother you with my sob story.”

Hannibal raised an eyebrow at her. “My job is listening to other people’s sob stories.”

She chuckled. “Fair point, but I’m not one of your clients.”

“You’re my friend, and it is to my understanding that friends talk to friends about things that are bothering them.”

(Y/N) nodded and sighed again. “Okay, well...the person who is messaging me stopped being my friend because my ex-boyfriend told her and all our other friends that I was crazy and a shitty girlfriend, so they all stopped being friends with me.”

Hannibal didn’t say anything. He gestured for her to continue, so she did.

“I was in a relationship for a long time,” she explained. “Like four or five years I think? It was a while ago so I don’t completely remember. Anyways, we were living together, we were so in love, we were talking about getting engaged and everything. And then, one night, he had left his phone open and I glanced down to see a text from another woman saying she was excited to see him, followed by a picture of her in lingerie.” She took a deep breath to try and stop the tears that were forming in her eyes from falling. “Turns out he had been cheating on me for months. Almost a year, actually.”

Hannibal’s hands clenched in his lap. Anger rose from deep inside of him. He was tempted to ask for her ex’s name so he could track the bastard down. How could someone have such a beautiful woman’s heart in his hand and completely crush it like that? He could’ve put a ring on her finger and gotten to call her his for the rest of their lives.

Maybe I shall invite her over for dinner soon, Hannibal thought to himself.

“How did that result in your friends no longer speaking to you?” he asked instead. “I’m not sure I see how he flipped this to be in his favor.”

(Y/N) laughed, humorlessly. “Never underestimate the power a man has over a woman he’s already hurt. Obviously, I was upset, so I acted kind of irrationally. I yelled, I cried, I screamed at him to leave the house, and when he refused, I started throwing his stuff out onto the front step. He told our friends I went through his phone and misinterpreted a message between him and ‘a coworker’. He told them I was crazy and went extra hysterical over nothing. I didn’t know until after, but he took a video of me throwing his stuff out, so he showed them that as proof. So, they all turned their backs on me.”

(Y/N) wiped her eyes quickly when she felt a tear run down her cheek. She let out a pitiful laugh and added, “And the icing on top is then he kicked me out. He put his name only on the lease, so there was no chance of fighting for the place. So, I was single, alone, and homeless in one fell swoop. He quite literally took everything from me.”

She looked down at her lap to try and hide her tears from anyone around them. There was no use pretending in front of Hannibal now. He had seen her break, but she didn’t want her coworkers to see it as well.

It had been many years since what happened with her ex. (Y/N) had gone through years of therapy to try and move on, and was still actively going when she had the time. There were days when she felt like she had moved on, and there were other days where all she could think about was the absolute heartbreak she felt when she saw those messages on her ex’s phone. She would sometimes see something that would remind her of their old friend group, and she’d remember how none of them spoke to her anymore. At first, she was sad about that, but after a while she got angry. She had tried to tell one of them, the one who was messaging her again now actually, that her ex cheated, but none of them would hear it. They just thought it proved even more that she was “the crazy ex-girlfriend”. She was angry that none of them would even listen to her, so it made it easier to get over them cutting her out.

Until a few days ago when that same ex-friend messaged (Y/N) asking if they could talk. When (Y/N) left the message on read, the friend tried again, explaining that her ex had finally come clean that he had cheated on (Y/N) after getting a little too drunk and someone asking him how he and his fiancée - the woman he cheated on (Y/N) with (that was a stab in the heart to read) - met. The friend begged for forgiveness and asked if they could talk, but (Y/N) told her that she didn’t want to be friends with any of them and not to contact her ever again.

It brought up so many old wounds - ones that were both partially and entirely healed. (Y/N) felt like she was back to those days of being a sad, young adult who was kicked out of her home, her relationship, and her friendships, all because of the actions of a dickhead like her ex. She had been trying to mask her upset while at work, but some days it was tougher than others.

But seeing Hannibal made it easier to forget.

She had really hoped that his surprise visit would bring her out of her mood. It almost had, if it wasn’t for that ex-friend messaging her yet again to try and beg for forgiveness.

(Y/N) jumped when Hannibal reached out for her hand. He took it in his and held it tightly. When she looked up, she realized how close he was leaning towards her.

“You should not let a man like that ruin you,” he told her. “You are a bright, beautiful woman, with a great job and I am assuming a fantastic family and new friends. He lost something great when he chose that other woman over you, and one of these days he will pay for making that decision.”

(Y/N) tried to smile. “I didn’t think someone like you would believe in karma.”

Not unless I’m the one inflicting it. “I can on occasions.”

She looked down at their connected hands. His was so much bigger than hers, so much cooler against her clammy skin. She suddenly felt self-conscious about the fact that her palm was so sweaty. She hoped he couldn’t feel it against his own palm.

“It’s not easy to just let go of a five year relationship that ends so suddenly like that,” she said, her voice small. “I haven’t dated anyone since because it’s just too hard to trust.”

“You must take things at your own pace,” Hannibal told her. “You can’t rush yourself into a new relationship if you’re not ready. There is nothing wrong with taking care of yourself first.”

When she looked up at him again, (Y/N) felt compelled to close the distance between herself and Hannibal. She wanted to kiss him more than anything. She wanted to feel more of him against her - his lips against hers, his hands on her body, his body against hers. She wanted to feel it all. But obviously, that would be a very inappropriate thing to happen in the workplace. Not to mention she wasn’t sure if Hannibal would really reciprocate to any of the things she wanted.

“Thank you,” she said, finally.

“It’s just the therapist in me.”

When she laughed this time, it was real. His heart fluttered at the sound. “I know, but it still means a lot. The fact that you come see me so often, that you brought me food today. It all means a lot to me. More than I think you could ever know.”

She didn’t want to let go of his hand, but she knew she couldn’t sit there like that all day. She was already well aware of how everyone was looking at them. She was sure she’d be mentioned at the coffee machine gossip session the next morning. So, (Y/N) reluctantly took her hand from Hannibal’s and reached for her pen instead.

“I really should try to finish this before Jack comes looking for it,” she said.

“Do you mind if I stay?” Hannibal asked.

“You don’t have anything else going on today?”

“Not until you’re finished.”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “What are we doing when I finish my work?”

“I’m going to teach you how to cook.”

Her face lit up like a Christmas tree. Hannibal couldn’t help but smile back at her.

And so they did sit like that for the rest of the day; (Y/N) working and eating while Hannibal just kept her company. The conversation had died down a bit so she could actually work, but that only aided her in finishing her paperwork early and being allowed to clock out an hour earlier, too. She happily pulled on her coat and followed Hannibal to the elevator, where he reached out and took her hand again as the doors closed.

#hannibal lecter #hannibal lecter imagine #hannibal lecter x reader #mads mikkelsen #mads mikkelsen x reader #mads mikkelsen imagine #hannibal nbc #hannibal netflix #imagine #one shot #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

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actual-changeling · 6 months

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It was actually rather hard to decide how to begin this meta post because there are essentially going to be two main parts: why Crowley does not actually avoid/run from his problems and why "going off" is not a bad thing regardless.

Then I wrote the first part and realised this is now 2.5k words long, so uhhhh I will grant part 2 its own post.

With that, welcome back to Alex's today-not-unhinged meta corner!

I am going to approach this topic from a psychological angle, which a lot of people have already done, but without explicitly mentioning it or going into depth. All my information comes from personal experience, research, my therapist, and my psychiatrist, just so you know I am not making shit up. I actually dug up some resources my therapist gave me a while ago.

Generally, there are four different fear/survival responses: fight, flight, freeze, and fawn. Most people have probably heard about fight and flight, since those two are usually the only ones that are mentioned/taught, so I will stick to explaining the other two.

"Fawning" refers to actively being submissive and subdued, both physically and emotionally. The goal is to appear non-threatening and to calm whoever is causing the fear response in the first place. It shows up as being overly agreeable, not having thoughts/opinions of your own and ignoring them if you do, your body language changing (e.g., making yourself smaller, taking up less space), and generally attempting to 'keep the peace' or reinstate it.

"Freezing" is pretty much exactly what it says on the tin—you freeze. It means slipping into a dissociative state, which disconnects you from your body, your emotions/mind, and/or the outside world. Usually, people stop being able to talk well or at all, they do not move, and if they do, it is on autopilot; you do not fight or flee, you simply exist until what is causing the fear response is over.

While dissociating, your brain is unable to form full memories—and depending on how heavily you are dissociating, it does not form any memories at all.

Freezing as a response happens when fight, flight, and fawn aren't possible anymore, e.g., a child who has no internal mechanisms to deal with large amounts of fear because it's a child, so the only way to escape the pain and aggressor is by fleeing into your mind and shutting down.

Why am I telling you all this? Because most people tend to have one or two survival responses that dominate/they usually fall back on, and the same goes for Aziraphale and Crowley.

When faced with an outside problem and a lot of stress, Aziraphale's first instinct is to fawn, to placate the person, to diffuse the situation, to make sure everyone is agreeing, or, at the very least, submitting to authority figures or aggressors. It is what heaven teaches them—stick to the rules, don't ask questions, do what you are told. If fawning involves lying, he will do so, here the need for safety is stronger than his desire to be truthful and stick to his morals.

Unfortunately, the fact that this is his primary fear response is also the reason behind his extreme cognitive dissonance. How can you stick to the rules when you do not know what the rules ARE? So he is stuck trying to figure out what is "good" and what is "bad" so he can be a good angel and avoid doing anything that might be seen as bad or disobedient.

His secondary response to stress or fear is to fight—once it's clear that fawning won't work, he can and will switch over to being more direct and aggressive/less submissive. We see that happening when he gets discorporated in season 1 and needs to get back to earth, at the airbase, or when the bookshop gets attacked.

If I were to ask you what you think Crowley's primary fear response is, how would you respond?

Well, if you said "flight"—you're wrong, and I will explain why.

Flight is his secondary fear response, it is what he falls back on in absolute emergencies when everything is doomed and there's nothing he can do anymore.

Before that, though, he fights.

Even as an angel, he was already questioning the system, he was ready to go and tell God she was doing a terrible job, that her ideas were bad, that he wants to keep his stars and the universe— six thousand years are nothing! If you actively oppose existing rules and defy people's authority over you, fighting is the only option you have unless you plan on giving up or the response becomes too much to deal with.

Fear itself happens when you or someone/something you love is being threatened (whether that threat is real or simply perceived as such doesn't matter), plus there are a large number of more irrational fears.

Crowley's creations were threatened -> He goes against the rules, he wants to fight for them.

On the walls of Eden, he questions God and talks to an angel, his hereditary enemy, once again defying the rules, questioning them.

Job and his children were threatened -> He goes against orders to try and save them.

There is good reason to believe he went against God by saving some of the children from the flood.

He showed Jesus the kingdoms of the world—do we really think that was based on orders? No, it was once again Crowley not playing by the rules.

Wessex? He proposes the Arrangement, which is one gigantic "fuck you" in his fight against celestial rules. Everything after that goes back to Crowley knowing that their jobs suck and that they can cheat, fight the system by working together. In 1827, it gets him pulled to hell and punished, and yet he does not stop; he keeps fighting.

Crowley is the one who immediately tries to stop the apocalypse. Aziraphale needs to be talked into it, needs to be convinced with selfish reasons and personal pleasure.

The reason why both heaven and hell absolutely loathe him is not because he is a runner; it's because he constantly and consistently defies them. He fights.

In season two, he immediately tries to deal with the Gabriel problem while Aziraphale is standing behind him and saying "I don't know" to all of his questions. Taking him somewhere so they can figure shit out in peace is not 'running'—it's smart. Sure, it's far from ideal, but we see what keeping him in the bookshop brought them, don't we? The hiding miracle is what tipped heaven and hell off in the first place.

Aziraphale goes to Edinburgh based on a hunch, but once again—did that help? Did his journalist roleplay trip actually provide vital information that solved a single puzzle piece of that mess? No. Finding out that Gabriel was at that pub with some mystery person was a nice fact to know, but that's it.

During the ball, Crowley is scared, vigilant, prowling around the shop, checking windows, telling Aziraphale to "stop this charade" so they can figure out what to do. Aziraphale, in that moment, was already convinced that sticking to the rules would save them—a heavenly embassy on a technicality, surely the group of fallen angels who got booted due to not following heaven's rules will respect that.

Crowley goes to heaven, which is once again him actively looking for a solution, while Aziraphale also falls back on fighting because fawning is not going to do shit.

There are three times during which Crowley suggests fleeing—which is his secondary fear response—but those are exceptions. Let's have a look at them.

The first one is at the bandstand, the evening before the Apocalypse, and since Aziraphale is lying to him, the situation seems hopeless to him. Yet he is still having his 'agents' look for him, is still fighting.

Do you know why he even suggests running? He is about to leave when Aziraphale calls him back with "there isn't anywhere to go," and now allow me to insert the following passage from the scriptbook.

Crowley looks back. He looks at Aziraphale. Above them, a beautiful starry sky. And Crowley softens.

"Big universe. Even if this all ends up in a puddle of burning goo, we could go off together."

The sentence in the show is slightly different, but they have one thing in common: If.

IF the world ends, we can still leave and be together. IF.

Crowley is NOT saying "let's leave", he is presenting Aziraphale with a contingency plan in case stopping the Apocalypse does not work. He is NOT running, he isn't even SUGGESTING to run.

It's a "if the world ends, we can be together. We don't need to be with hell or heaven; we can be in the stars," because remember what the end of the world would mean? Eternal torture for Crowley while Aziraphale bores himself to death in heaven.

The next time he suggests it again—when he stops Aziraphale on the street—several things have happened.

First, he did not leave. If he truly wanted to flee, he would have by now, but he didn't. He sits in a cinema waiting for the end: "Out of time. Out of hope," as Neil puts it. Then Hastur and Ligur show up on screen and tell him, 'You're dead meat, Crowley. You're bloody history. […] We're coming to collect you'.

We all know that means "eternal torture in hell," but if you're not convinced for some reason, have another snippet from the script book that did not make it into the show.

Dagon is speaking from the Bentley's radio while he drives towards the bookshop, saying that something has gone wrong and they're sure he has a 'perfectly reasonable explanation' for it. Once he gets out of the car, however, Dagon still keeps going and says the following:.

"Your explanation, and the circumstances that will accompany it, will provide a source of entertainment for all the damned of hell, Crowley. Because no matter what agonies the damned are suffering, Crowley, you will have it worse."

Crowley already knows that. He has been punished by them before, heard, seen, lived torture, there is no doubt as to what will happen should they catch him. So he does what any person with a single fucking brain cell would do—he tries to get his loved one and FLEE.

Flight is the best response in this situation, and if you need me to explain why, then honestly, I cannot help you anymore. I won't go into detail about Aziraphale's response, but, tl;dr, it was shitty and incredibly hurtful, go figure.

Now, let's get to situation number 3, which is his speech during the final fifteen. We do not have an official script for that, but someone did make transcriptions for all episodes; you can find them here. Additionally, I will copy some of what I already said in a different meta post.

Crowley, stuck in his trauma-induced hypervigilance and paranoia, suggests putting as much distance between them and the problem as possible. I think it is interesting that in ep1 he wants to get Gabriel away from them, while at the end of the season, he is ready to get them away from the problem.

So far, I have never seen anyone mention that change! And it’s important! The entire season, it is hammered into our heads how much they love being on earth. It is THEIR bookshop and THEIR car and THEIR life.

Crowley wants to protect that home, and Gabriel is a threat to it, a threat to both of them, their life, the bookshop—everything. He does not want to leave, he wants his peace and angel in one place.

Yet by allowing Gabriel to stay, Aziraphale destroyed the sense of comfort and safety Crowley had slowly developed over the last few decades. Heaven nipping down every now and then to check in with Aziraphale is very different from him sheltering the Supreme Archangel who is running from ‘something terrible’ without even asking if he’s alright with that.

Aziraphale calls it their bookshop, but he fundamentally still sees it as his space to govern and Crowley as a guest; he even calls it a 'heavenly embassy'.

After another horrible week and having his previously safe space violated by several different times and beings, Crowley is back to where he was before—without a home. That fragile existence broke apart, so he is standing in the heap of shards and telling Aziraphale 'I don’t feel safe here anymore, let’s leave’.

He lost his safe space, but he still has his safe person, his best and only friend, the person he loves. I doubt he cares where exactly they go as long as they’re together and it’s safe.

Returning to heaven—it is the one place Crowley cannot follow him to. It’s literally the worst option, he can’t go back, he won’t go back. So he invokes the bookshop again, if you don’t want to stay for me, stay for the bookshop, your books, your corner of existence that I thought we had carved out for ourselves.

There is a common error that people make regarding the timeline, which is assuming that during this conversation they are already aware of the impending apocalypse—but they aren't. Aziraphale himself has no clue, and while Crowley saw the conversation and trial, he does NOT know when it will happen. For all he knows, it could be tomorrow, could be in a thousand years, and, even if he had been given a date, I doubt they laid out all the details and how to stop it.

Considering that his original plan was "get drunk at the Ritz and then have us time," I don't think he knew literally anything about how or when to stop it. So no, Crowley does NOT suggest running away from earth and leaving it to die.

All he wants is some bloody peace and quiet where no demons, angels, or power-hungry floating heads can interrupt them. A space that is safe and theirs. There are also zero mentions of where he wants them to go; he is not talking about the stars or the universe. He wants to get away from where they currently are because heaven and hell show up uninvited whenever they please.

If your boss and ex-boss constantly kicked down your front door and stated their wish to torture you, would you stay there or would you move? Yeah.

This post got very long, but it was long overdue.

I am tired of seeing people call Crowley a callous coward who always runs away from his problems when he is the literal opposite. You take three sentences said under exceptional circumstances and apply them to Crowley as a whole, when it is nothing but his last ditch effort to keep himself and Aziraphale safe.

One last thing: If you come onto my post and start aggressively arguing about this, I will block you. Genuine discussions and questions are always welcome, being a dick is not, and I also simply cannot handle some of the rhetoric people in this fandom perpetuate because it's very triggering.

Make your own post, don't do it on mine.

#alex talks good omens #good omens #ineffable husbands #good omens meta #crowley #aziraphale #good omens season 2 #go2 #aziracrow #crowley x aziraphale #ineffable divorce #the final fifteen #crowley meta #aziraphale meta #crowley deserves better treatment from this fandom #and people that actually remember canon and don't take some fanfic version of him they have created during the hiatus #so many straight up factually incorrect takes #i dont know if i will make it until season 3 guys

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lieutenant-teach · 3 months

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Being a pro-Jedi fan is super hard.

Stumbled upon a scientific paper ‘The Psychgeist of Pop Culture’ (2024) about ‘The Mandalorian’ and ‘The Book of Boba Fett’ series. It’s divided into many smaller research by various PhDs. The Boba chapters are actually very good.

And then there’s ‘Fatherhood and male emotions’ chapter. About Jedi. About attachment. The authors Keely Diebold and Meghan Sander, PhDs, are claimed as Jedi fans.

Good start. / s Bad enough Din Djarin is called ‘Djarin’ as a name throughout the whole paper (my own pet peeve about the dick move of Favreau and Filoni in the end of Season 3 which is a decision to criticize in itself). Of course, Obi-Wan wasn’t a ‘good father figure’ as claimed by Lucas himself. Neither was Bail Organa. /s

Yeah. Hypocrisy. Hey, ‘Jedi fans authors’, have you actually watched the movies? Sigh. Seriously, ‘the intergalactic therapists’ who were trying to help Anakin to cope with his emotions so much, working with ‘cognitive therapy’ – they suppressed emotions. I just… don’t have any coherent thoughts about that bullshit on the screencap. And – now we defend Palpatine. Just great.

By the way, rewatching Indiana Jones movies, I paid special attention to the moments when someone of the team is left behind and the main characters continue chasing the enemies (just like in the mentioned scene in AOTC). And it’s never presented as ‘left behind and forgotten, heroes don’t care about them’.

What is evident to me is that this all is a piece of banthashit. Mandos with the suppression of emotions – I agree. Jedi? When one of their main proverbs ‘feel, don’t think’?

‘His own interpretation’? It’s not! Why did the authors decide that’s what happened? The point is that Anakin is taught ‘compassion, which … [is] unconditional love, is central to a Jedi’s life. … we are encouraged to love’ by the Jedi, but acts in the way he wants regardless. Screams in the plush Grogu How do people manage to watch obvious in messaging children films with their ass holes?

Frankly, I suspect that these ‘Jedi-fans’ authors just don’t understand and didn’t even try to explore the meaning of ‘attachment’ in Star Wars – it’s not ‘a deep and enduring emotional bond that connects one person to another’, it’s ‘selfishness’. They never tried to google Lucas’s interviews, but only used books about child rearing. This is why we have all this crap in a ‘scientific paper’. I firmly believe that @david-talks-sw, @writerbuddha, @kanansdume, @antianakin, @smhalltheurlsaretaken and other fans could write a whole paper about Jedi and attachments – and this would be real in-depth analysis of the Jedi and Star Wars.

And a rotten cherry on the top of this shitcake I noticed just before publishing – using ScreenRant as a reference not the smartest move, really.

Now how can a reader trust your judgment if you use fucking ScreenRant as a proof? Ah, no, they cannot (see this whole post).

#star wars #jedi #pro jedi #attachment issues #the mandalorian #star wars prequels

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kimmiessimmies · 10 days

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Personal post

This will probably be the most non-Sims related post I've put on this blog ever. I'll put most of it under a cut, so you can choose whether or not to read it. The thing is, I could use some advice. And asking strangers from all over the world advice on something important might be weird, but you are also my community, so I value your opinions. Don't worry, this isn't a "Kim being depressed" kinda post. 😉 It's a work thing.

Upfront: This post is about me being unhappy in my current well-paid job and my search for something that makes me happy. It might come across sounding a bit entitled, since I know there are many people who would be happy to have any job, just so they can pay their bills. I'm sorry if this post triggers that, and I know I'm privileged to even be in this situation. ❤️

TL/DR: Do I stay in a well-paid, secure job that doesn't bring happiness and actually negatively affects my mental health because of it? Or: Do I take the plunge into the unknown and give up the securities I have now for something that could potentially (but not guaranteed) not only make me happy but bring me opportunities as well?

Okay, here's the deal. Currently, I work in education. I've been teaching for 19 years, and for the last 3 years, I've held the position that best translates to special needs coordinator at the school where I've been all of my working life. In short, my job entails making sure the teachers have the tools they need to help all kids in their classes with special educational needs, to make sure each child ends up in the right form of education fitting their needs and dealing a lot with difficult or even alarming home situations. My job can be rewarding at times, and challenging at others. Aside from this, I've been part of the management team at my school for almost 8 years. I work at a big school. It wasn't big when I started there, but it's big now. I have a degree in Early Childhood Education, and that's also the age group I've always dealt with. It's the age group I've always taught, and it's the age group currently under my supervision in the position I'm now.

This past year, I've struggled with my mental health, as I've mentioned before, and have not been at work fully for a while. My therapist and I established that while work is "okay", it's also not bringing me joy anymore while my job was once the happiest and most passionate thing I did. Right now, it's blah. This position is not one that really suits me, yet I don't want to go back to teaching either. I've been there, done that. Add to that the fact that, come September, my boss requires me to change my position slightly. I'd be doing the same thing I do now, but for an older age group. This has given me a lot of stomach aches, because the thing that still drives me to do my job now is the fact that I'm doing it geared towards the youngest kids in school.

All in all, the job is not bringing me happiness in the slightest anymore. Having said that, I know a lot of people do jobs that don't make them happy, but it pays the bills, so let's suck it up and just do it. Which is fine, I can do that too, except my mental health suffers...

However, there are a few good things about this job too:

The pay is really good

I have lovely colleagues

I have a lot of credits here because I've been here for so long. They know my worth

I have a very understanding boss who's been nothing short of wonderful during my depression

(If you're still with me, thank you for reading this essay all the way, it's appreciated 💗)

My therapist asked me, "If money weren't a factor, what would you be doing?" My answer was "write." More specifically, I just want to stay home all day and work on ATOH, but no one is going to pay me for that. 😄 So, write, or do a job in which writing plays a role. So, she advised me to start looking for jobs that fit that description. It was a rather depressing search. Most jobs that came close to what I'd like to do require degrees or diplomas I don't have.

And then I suddenly stumbled upon something: Assistent Project Manager at a small, but well established company that creates educational projects (usually based on children's books), books and materials geared towards early childhood education in particular, and currently expanding to do the same for education to older kids as well.

I felt like I had found the holy grail. This is writing, this is editing, this is being creative, this is working with authors, but it's also closely related to early childhood education, the thing I know so well. Despite still being semi depressed, I felt like I needed to at least give this a shot. So, I wrote a letter, enclosed my resume, and waited. I didn't have to wait long, because a few days later I got an invite for an interview.

I went for the interview and was welcomed at a small and very homely office space (with an office cat!). We had a good talk and I left happy. They invited me to do a "trial day" with them, which is what I'll be doing today. They've had a lot of applicants for this position, but from the contact we've had since, it seems like I stand a good chance.

Sounds like a no-brainer? Perhaps, unless you have my brain... Because there are doubts:

Pay. This job pays quite a bit less than my current one. I'm a single parent and therefore sole breadwinner in my household. Currently, I make quite good money because I've been in this job for a long time and hold a relatively high position in the organisation. We can pay the bills, go on holidays, and even splurge occasionally (for example, the very pricey laptop I bought a few months ago). With this job, I would still make enough to pay the bills and go on holidays, but I will need to keep an eye on the money, and there won't be splurging for a while. I do know this sounds like a luxury problem to some.

Job security. In my current job, I'm under a fixed contract. Basically, unless I royally fuck up, I can't be fired. With this job I'd start on a year contract. After that year, they can either decide to give me another year or let me go. This won't just be if I mess up, but also if they decide I'm not the best person for the job after all, or if I don't fit in with their small, close-knit team. Worst case scenario; they let me go, and I'll have to go back to education and probably teach again.

These doubts are few, but strong. So, basically, like I already said above: do I stay in a well-paid, secure job that doesn't bring happiness and actually negatively affects my mental health because of it? Or: do I take the plunge into the unknown and give up the securities I have now for something that could potentially (but not guaranteed) not only make me happy but bring me opportunities as well (since it's publishing)?

I don't need anyone to actually answer those questions, but those are the wonderings on my mind I wanted to write down. Thanks for reading. ❤️

#personal #non sims

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cemeterything · 1 year

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last serious post for tonight i promise but i think part of the reason i value critical thinking so much (even though i realize that might come as a surprise if your only knowledge of me as a person comes from here, because tumblr is more of an escape slash stream of consciousness collaborative scrapbook for me than a platform for spreading awareness or teaching and learning tool - no offence to anyone who does use it for that, i just prefer to treat it as a hobby myself) is because i grew up both extremely isolated and controlled and prevented from expressing myself while also watching my parents fall hard down the conspiracy theory pipeline and experiencing the creeping horror of growing old enough to understand that and learning more about the world and being exposed to more people and ideas in it and realizing that my fear and frustration around them wasn't just typical teen angst but an entirely reasonable reaction to their increasing capacity to be very dangerous and untrustworthy people.

and like. i did actually try to pull them back. i wasn't very good at it (partly because i was a kid, and partly because i have my own biases and misconceptions and just plain bad ideas that i'll spend my entire life working on unlearning and trying to be aware and receptive to criticism of) but goddamn it did i fucking try. i tried discussing, i tried debating, i tried arguing back and standing up for myself and others, i tried researching and learning and presenting my counterarguments backed up with actual evidence, i tried to get other people to support me despite lacking much in terms of social skills or confidence or people around me who didn't buy into all the same bullshit, or something equally stupid and harmful. i even read the things they sent me and showed me so i could say "look, i approached this with an open mind and genuine good faith, i reflected on it and i used my critical thinking skills and tried to understand, but this is wrong and it's going to get people hurt. it's going to get you to hurt people."

i grew up knowing that as the closest person to them who hadn't fallen into the same trap of facebook radicalization groups and increasingly deranged and cult-like (and i don't use that word lightly) organizations and communities online i had a responsibility to try to protect people by warning them that my parents have the potential to cause a lot of harm and suffering if nothing else. and i failed. i'm not a trained deprogramming therapist and they probably crossed whatever event horizon ordinary people who aren't professionally taught how to combat that shit could have any chance of pulling them back from long ago. but the one thing i still have the ability to do is not let the same thing happen to me. i refuse to just passively let everything i see and hear fester in my brain until it starts poisoning all my thoughts and interactions with the world and people around me, and i'm still willing to try to encourage others to be aware and critical of everything around them so they don't end up following the same path and ending up unrecognizable to their former selves. i'm not perfect, i've definitely made some very bad mistakes and hurt people in ways i can't and don't want to be forgiven for and have many regrets, but i will never let myself end up like that as long as i have the ability to fight back.

#🐉#lmk if theres any warnings i should tag this with #it doesnt get into specifics but you can probably fill in the subtext

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cosmicdream222 · 3 months

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hypnotherapy - I know what it is but at the same time I don't. Would a hypnotherapist be able to loke guide us to the void?

It’s a good question but might take a little explaining. So hypnotherapy is kind of an unregulated field. When someone wants to become a doctor, massage therapist, teacher or similar profession, they have to take a set curriculum of classes and become licensed by a federally accredited board, and remain up to date with their licensing and certifications.

When someone wants to become a life coach or hypnotherapist, there is no real standard, no board, no licensing requirements. You don’t even need any kind of professional training or licensing to be a life coach or hypnotherapist (which is kinda scary tbh)

I took a one-year coaching certification course in 2019 so I am “certified” in life & success coaching, EFT, hypnotherapy, NLP, and TIME Techniques - meaning I now have the knowledge to practice these techniques on myself and my friends/family/clients/whatever. But I only learned some basic hypnosis techniques and have a couple of scripts so I could record my own or guide others through it.

I did enjoy my class and I did learn a lot. But it’s kind of a meaningless piece of paper because the entire industry is unregulated, anyone can make their own coaching course and their own methods/techniques and tell people they’re certified in whatever they want. It’s pretty much just a free-for-all.

So all that to say, just because someone is a hypnotherapist doesn’t actually mean they know what they’re doing. They would have to continue their education beyond the basics to learn more advanced techniques and have much more experience.

I was not taught any techniques that would be helpful for entering the void or guiding someone else to it. Since most people in general don’t know about the void state, finding a hypnotherapist who knows about it would most likely be hard to find.

I do really like hypnosis tho and it works well for me, so a couple weeks ago I was looking on YT for a guided hypnosis for the void and I did find one, like only one. “Extra deep hypnosis - into the void”. Although I’m not sure if she knows exactly the power of the void, it’s meant to get you into a deep thoughtless state of relaxation.

youtube

I tried it once and she is a very good & skilled hypnotherapist. It is a safe & effective video and I plan on trying it again to enter. But as a warning, her channel has a lot of bizarre NSFW hypnosis videos too, so don’t go looking around her other videos unless you are 18+ and want to be shocked 😂😂

#hypnotherapy #void state

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loverofpiggies · 2 years

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Hey guys, I got something I’m ready to talk about under the cut. It’s super long! And it’s pretty serious, so feel free to scroll past. It’s also about some serious subject matter regarding transphobia, so if you’re not in a good place and ready to read about something like that, take care of yourself first and foremost. Okay?

Okay.

Hey guys, I’ve been doing a lot of self discovery these last few…. I guess technically my whole life, but I only got serious about focusing and working on it these last few years, and it has to do with my history of transphobia. I want to talk about my journey of growth, and what I’ve done to grow, and maybe it could help anyone else dealing with similar issues.

I was a pretty…. Hateful kid, to put it lightly. I was very angry, VERY angry, and obsessed over all this anger and hatred I had at everyone, but especially at myself. I’ve been in therapy as far back as I can remember, and more meds than I’d like to admit, trying to figure out what was ‘wrong’ with me. Which was a lot, by the way.

Anyway, around 2016, I got really serious about therapy. As a kid I didn’t take it seriously, but by 2016 I knew I needed help. I realized how my anger was ripping me apart, and how deeply it was rooted in hating myself. So, without therapy, and without the tools of therapy, I’d try to alter thoughts as they’d happen. I’d see someone dressed in a way I didn’t like? My thoughts immediately turned to hatred and judgementality. I taught myself to step back, and go, ‘hold on. You don’t know them. That’s a lot to assume about someone you’ve never talked to.’ and it helped curb a lot of my most angry and judgemental thoughts, at least, I thought so. In truth, all it did, was bury the issue, instead of addressing it.

Going into therapy seriously this time as an adult, I started unburying my own trauma, small bit by small bit. I started journaling a lot of it out, and my therapist put it best. Going to therapy is like trying to untangle a ball of paperclips. You might be like ‘ah, I just want to take this one paperclip out’ but it’s attached to so many other things you wouldn’t have guessed, and eventually you just. End up with the whole ball. You go to therapy for one ‘small’ thing, oops, you’re talking about this huge other thing that you never knew was related.

Also at this point, I was pretty serious about my spirituality. I was sick of being so angry and judgemental, I got deep into meditation and learning about compassion, because… well I lacked so much of it for so long. My favorite quote, that helped me grow the most, is “If your compassion does not include yourself, it is incomplete” by Jack Kornfield. Another one I adore, is, “Holding onto anger is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die.” attributed to lots of people so I’m not actually sure who the original quoter is. If you watched a lot of my early streams, I was pretty obsessed with kindness and spirituality at that point! Half the time the streams turned into talks about that, lol. Sorry if that was a bit much, I was in a ‘place’ at that time.

After realizing how angry I was, and being so exhausted from it, I swung the opposite way pretty hard. I knew what it felt like to be angry and judgemental, and hurt people because of it. I’ve seen people I was very close to in my life, destroy relationships because of anger. And I was trying so hard to make up for it, to stop being so angry. I didn’t want to hurt people anymore, I didn’t want to hurt myself, and I wanted to be kind and understanding about perspectives I spent so long cutting off. And the therapy helped, a lot! I worked on a lot of deep issues, and my mind, more and more, started being less angry. I also got on meds, because we *finally* figured out what my issue was, and got me on the right medication. At least, once I got over my ‘I don’t need medication’ phase. Which was an absolute blessing.

I thought to myself, ah ha! Look at me, look at all this progress! I’m not angry or judgemental anymore. I’ve opened up so many doors, learned so many new things, I’m okay now, I don’t need any further help.’ With all the progress I had made, I really believed I didn’t need anymore work. The growth I made in just a couple years was astounding, and I wasn’t where I needed to be, but by this point I had the tools I needed to work on things myself. This was what I told myself anyway.

Also around this time, I was making my first close trans friends. And there was this weird, nasty feeling in my head, that I thought I had gotten past. These angry, judgemental thoughts cropped back up again, and they shocked me. I thought I was past this sort of anger, this judgementality. I didn’t want to look at it. I didn’t want to acknowledge it, or look deeper. I didn’t want to think that I could be so mean again, especially after all the work and growth I put in. So, I shoved it away, as hard as I could. I didn’t want to see it, and I didn’t want to think about it.

The problem with trying to shove angry, and judgemental, hateful thoughts away, is they don’t actually go away. They stay, and force themselves out in other ways. They come back as ‘jokes’ or ignorant angry comments. They come out subconsciously, as a defensive reaction. But… I didn’t want to acknowledge that I might be transphobic, or have transphobic thoughts. I didn’t want to be angry. So when I’d ‘joke’, or make a comment, I’d feel ashamed, and try to bury it deeper. And deeper. And it just made it worse. I also used my therapy as a defense mechanism too, without realizing it. “I’m fine now, I’ve gone to therapy, I don’t need any more work, I’m fine!” So. I buried it. I think there’s a pattern here.

After years of therapy, you’d think I’d realize what was going on. I was trying to bury this, the way I tried to bury all my anger for so many years. I knew from experience, that burying the issue does not work, and just makes it so much worse in the long run. But, I didn’t actually realize I was burying it. I was so deep in my own denial, that I couldn’t see it. Because there was a lot of deep shame there, too. I had so many amazing trans friends, and the experiences they had dealt with by this time, JUST for being trans, horrified me. I never, *ever* wanted to be a source of pain for them. But I’d still make comments, or ‘jokes’. Then, I’d feel horrible, crushing guilt, and try to force that bad side of me down even further.

By this point, a good majority of my friend group was either trans, or non binary. I loved them so much, and didn’t want to acknowledge my issues, or the fact that I had thoughts that could hurt them. Eventually, one of my trans friends approached me, and my god, I’m so lucky to have them in my life. But they approached me, telling me “I know you don’t mean to hurt anyone. I think… maybe it’s time to talk to your therapist about this.”

And… they were right. I spent so much time in denial, once they said this to me, it clicked. Yes, I do need to talk to someone. I can’t live like this anymore. If compassion is as important to me as I’ve always said, I need to work on any parts of me that still hold anger. But I was also so terrified, after spending so long trying to avoid it, now I was going to open up to someone? And say whatever my thoughts were out loud? What if I couldn’t be fixed? What if I was destined to be hateful and angry forever, no matter how hard I worked? I didn’t want to hear my own thoughts. I didn’t want to see this awful side of me, after spending so long trying to ‘defeat it’. I didn’t even know how dark it got, and my mind conjured all sorts of nasty ideas of how ‘bad’ of a person I was.

So. I walked into my therapist’s office, and said… out loud. “I think I’m transphobic. And I hate it.” I’ll leave a lot of details out, because it’s pretty personal, but I’ll go over the important things I discovered. After she let me speak for a bit, we turned to my gender identity. She asked me things in detail. I’m a cis woman, so I didn’t think I had any issues with my gender identity, so her questions confused me, but deeper than that, they scared me. There was still something inside of me that wanted to fight back, to protect me from whatever was coming. But I pushed forward.

As we pulled apart the paperclips, and started getting to the root of my true, deeper issue, I started to realize something. See, I’m pretty confident and comfortable in my skin. At least, I believed I was. I told myself, anyway. In a similar vein as I used ‘compassion’ to shove away parts of myself I hated, I used ‘confidence’ to shove away the insecure parts of myself as well. Which, I mean, couldn’t be a more false version of confidence OR compassion if you ask me.

I started to realize that I had a deep insecurity about my own femininity. A deep, crippling insecurity. See, my face and body are pretty androgynous. With long hair, I can look like a girl, but with short hair I can look pretty boyish. I don’t have much of a figure, or a chest, so I can be mistaken for a boy under lots of circumstances. That, combined with the fact that tight clothes are uncomfortable for me, meant overall I looked very unfeminine. And I was bullied a lot for it, growing up. Kids would call me a boy. In highschool, I was made fun of a lot, too. I’d be made fun of for not looking like a ‘girl’. This was only one factor of my bullying at the time, like I mentioned before. I had a lot of pretty severe behavior issues, so it sorta made me a prime target for bullying. I wanted to be viewed as a girl, as a woman. But because my looks didn’t fit enough into their ‘boxes’, I was made fun of. I was laughed at, and I can’t tell you how often people would say things like ‘are you SURE you’re a girl down there?’.

And this was the smoking gun. I finally had the realization I needed. This is hard to write, but. Because I didn’t fit in the mold of what my peers thought a woman was, I felt guilt, and I felt shame. And I shoved it away. And realized… subconsciously, I was doing what was done to me, to my trans friends. To the trans community. And it hurt. It hurt so much, to realize what I was doing. But now it also made so much sense. The guilt, the trying to ‘play it off’, the avoidance, the burying. It was so painful to grow up with those comments, that my mind was trying to shove away and hide me from realizing I was continuing the cycle of pain.

Not only that, but in therapy I learned something else. I’m still working through this, but. I realized as well I have dysphoria, and some mild dysmorphia. The fact that I was perceived so differently then I felt about myself in my adolescence, followed me deeply into adulthood.

I realized that when I would have friends talk about dysmorphia, my defense mechanism would kick in, to avoid me thinking that I might have the same issue. In fact, all my defense mechanisms would kick in, to avoid me from reliving the bullying and the trauma.

And anyone who knows anything about therapy, knows how much this shit hurts. It hurts SO much to open up wounds you’ve tried to hide, to look in and see where the real issue lies. To realize that maybe you haven’t been as kind as you wanted, even if it wasn’t intentional.

But… after the tears, and the pain of reliving this, and ripping open all the doors I was trying to close, to shove away… there was relief. I finally knew what was wrong. And that I knew where to start working. How to start helping myself grow, and be better.

So many things clicked, and my issues with transphobia evaporated. Finally facing it, finally confronting it, and realizing the deeper sides of myself, took away all that power my anger was holding onto. I had to reteach myself that, ‘hey, thanks for trying to protect me, but I’m okay now. You don’t have to protect me anymore.’

I’m still working on my issues with my femininity. After realizing this, I went through my closet and got rid of everything that made me feel ‘unpretty’. I went thrift shopping, and found looser clothes that still made me feel like a girl. I’m slowly growing my hair out, to see if I’m happier with long hair, or happier with short. In truth, I’m rediscovering myself again. It’s easier to look in the mirror.

The defensive reactions went away. The ‘jokes’ disappeared, and I didn’t have to fight to bury anything anymore. And I could be the supportive friend I always deeply wanted to be. To push back at a society that doesn’t like people ever sitting outside specific ‘molds’. To help make a world be safer for anyone who doesn’t align with the mainstream idea of what being a person is. To what being a man, or a woman is. To being whatever a human is.

This has been very long. But. I wanted to go through the entire experience, every step, to show how I worked on myself. And how I grew, from this darker, angrier, unhappy version of myself. And that maybe it could help anyone else who’s had the same experience. I also wanted to go through all of this, to show the steps I’ve made. And to my trans and nonbinary friends? To all the people in the trans community that I may have hurt in the past? I’m sorry. Genuinely, and truly. I never wanted to be another source of pain, especially to trans people, who already experience so much discrimination.

This was a painful experience to go through, but one I definitely needed. I’m still journaling, working on my issues and working on becoming a happier me. I had to take my time to discover myself, and wanted to open up about my journey to yall. I was finally ready to talk about this.

Anyway. I hope you have a beautiful day, and I hope every day is happier than the last. Cheers yall.

#tw: transphobia #transphobia #cqchat #important #therapy #self discovery #keep it real you guys

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spnjediavenger · 3 months

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It Won't Last Forever (Chapter 3)

Title: It Won’t Last Forever (Chapter 3)

Type: multi-chapter; father!Hotch x teen!daughter!reader, some bau x teen!reader (platonic!)

Warnings: canon-typical Criminal Minds sadness

POSSIBLE TRIGGER WARNINGS: mentions PTSD

Spoilers: S5 SPOILERS

Notes: The PTSD description is a mix of my own experience and some I read online - this is not how ALL PTSD is experienced.

The Container Exercise is a real thing, one of my past therapists actually walked me through it and i love it

EMDR is an actual method of therapy and it works for some and not for others, it's also very dependent on person and situation; this is taken from my own experience and doesn’t reflect everyone’s

As always, love and/or constructive/friendly criticism is welcome and encouraged!

Word count: 814 (shorter, transition chapter)

“It is worth remembering that the time of greatest gain in terms of wisdom and inner strength is often that of greatest difficulty.” Dalai Lama

When Hotch informed Rossi that Y/n had finally agreed to therapy, the older man told him that he had an old friend who was a licensed therapist and specialized in PTSD. Hotch was grateful for the suggestion. He decided to bring Y/n to work with him so he and Rossi could talk to her about it together.

When they got to the BAU, everyone greeted her, glad she wasn’t as emotionless as the last visit. Hotch then brought her up to his office, keeping the door open.

Y/n pulled some homework out of her bag as her dad began to work at his desk. A light knock came to the door about 30 minutes later, making both Hotchners turn their heads up.

“Hey, Dave,” the older Hotchner greeted and waved him in.

Rossi walked in and patted Y/n’s head, making the girl smile a bit. He sat in the chair next to her.

“What’s going on?” Y/n asked, looking from Rossi to her dad.

“Y/n, I know you’re hesitant about starting therapy. But when I mentioned to Dave that you agreed to it, he mentioned he knows someone that might be a good choice.”

“Dr. Warner is a friend of mine, very good in her field. She specializes in kids dealing with PTSD. We figured you might feel a little better if you’re talking with someone one of us knows.”

Y/n thought it over for a second, gave a half smile, and nodded a bit. “That sounds good. Could you…could you be there too, Dave? For the first time at least?” she asked.

The older man smiled warmly and put an affectionate hand on her cheek. “Of course, bambina.”

Y/n giggled a bit and smiled at the italian nickname only Rossi used for her. “We’ll get you better, kiddo.”

Y/n put her hand on his and smiled. “Thank you.”

Y/n sat in a small waiting area with her dad and Rossi. Her leg bounced up and down wildly as her eyes darted around the room, trying to find something to focus on. She only stilled her leg when her dad put his hand on her knee, catching her attention. Her movement had stopped and she turned to look at him.

“Y/n, it’ll be alright. Dave said Dr. Warner is a nice woman. And therapy goes at your own pace and comfort level. You’ll be just fine. Ok?” Hotch held his palm up and Y/n accepted his hand.

“Ok,” she sighed.

“Y/n Hotchner?” a voice called from the other side of the room.

Hotch ran a comforting hand over her back as she took a shuddery breath and they walked over with Rossi in tow.

The woman led them into a room and shut the door behind everyone. She held her hand out to Y/n first and introduced herself, “I’m Dr. Warner, but you can call me Peggy.” She shook each person’s hand and gave Rossi a small hug as well.

“Thanks for doing this, Peg,” he said warmly.

“Any friend of yours is a friend of mine, Dave. Please, everyone, take a seat anywhere.”

Y/n sat on the couch across from Dr. Warner’s chair and had her dad and Rossi sit on either side of her.

The session started simply with Dr. Warner explaining to them how things would go and taught Y/n a tool for when she was between sessions.

“This is called the Container Exercise,” she explained. “I want you to close your eyes and picture a container. It can be any kind you want. A box, a jar, anything. Think of the shape of it, the color, if there are any designs on it. Do you see it? Now, any time bad memories or feelings come up between our sessions, or you aren’t in a place where you can properly handle them, I want you to imagine putting those memories and feelings inside your container and sealing it until we can talk about them. You can open your eyes now.”

The rest of the session went by rather smoothly as well. They didn’t get too far into specifics about Y/n’s trauma since it was the first session, but Dr. Warner got the basics of what they would be working on. Upon understanding these things, the doctor recommended a technique called “EMDR” which both Hotchners agreed to start for Y/n at the next session.

When the group left, Hotch kissed Y/n’s head before she got into the car. “I’m proud of you, sweety.”

The girl smiled and hugged him. “Thanks, daddy.”

She was on the road to recovery.

“You survived the trauma. Now, you’ll survive the recovery.” Unknown.

#fanfiction #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x teen reader #criminal minds x hotchner reader #criminal minds x teen reader #bau x teen reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #fanfic #hotch x daughter reader

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absolutebl · 1 year

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This Week in BL - All the endings

March 2023 Wk 1

Being a highly subjective assessment of one tiny corner of the interwebs. Organized by which ones (in each category) I’m enjoying most.

Ongoing Series - Thai

Bed Friend (Sat YT, GaGa & iQIYI uncut) ep 3 of 8 - Only one of them is in a fuck buddy relationship, and it’s not King Moon-eyes Husband-material. This show is so damn good. I love it when high heat is used to serve the characters and the narrative, as well as us fans. (In other words, take away the sexualized part of this relationship and the whole story would fall apart.) I suppose we should pay attention to Uea’s rules since they will all be broken. Uea has a bit of a demanding spoiled prince thing going and I’m not mad about it. This may be the most neck-kissy couple ever, I’m so happy for them! Yet another installment in “Thailand, please get that boy to a therapist.” This ep likely has lots of extras so I might watch IQ as well. Child abuse trigger btw.

Moonlight Chicken (Weds YT) eps 7-8fin - It was a good last 2 eps, and I ended up actually liking the complexity of the messiness more than I thought I would - disaster queer authenticity isn’t usually my thing. (Japan taught me that lesson the hard way). All in all, a stellar a little offering from GMMTV, in the Not Me or ITSAY vein of “I question whether it’s actually BL but like it anyway.” Full review and rating below.

Never Let Me Go (Tues YT) ep 12fin - The climax was rather predictably climatic (as it were). I love that Chopper shot his dad. Better aim next time, sweetheart? The cousins making up was sappy. Chopper & Ben were fine. Frankly, I’m not sure about PerthChimon’s chemistry, a bit nervous for their series now. And then Kdrama separation nation strikes again. Yawn. Question: Did the cute girl at Palm’s bar ever get her coconut juice? Full review and rating below.

A Boss and a Babe (Fri YouTube) ep 1 of 10 - ForceBook in an office set boss/employee highly camp rom-com. Babe is a bit too slapstick for me, boss is a bit too creepy, and Book is def over egging the pudding. Well meaning chatterbox idiot is not my fav archetype. Bathroom meet cute? Huh. I don’t know. I don’t hate it, I guess?

The Promise (Thai WeTV & YT) ep 1 of 10 - Popped into my YT feed so I gave it a try. Unexpectedly good! Phu & Nan are childhood bffs from middle school through college (almost lovers). Phu disappears just after graduation. After looking/waiting for him for ages, Nan gives up and self isolates, and the actual story takes place 10 years later. The arbitrary slapstick elements are unnecessary, disjoined, and rough. The show should have had the strength of its convictions just to be a serious drama. But it’s way better than expected (it’s about coffee, I love coffee) and no need to have watched the prequel miniseries Phupha | Nanfah. Phu’s granny and cohorts are THE BEST. Also elder queer rep. There better be a GREAT reason why Phu didn’t reach out to Nan or I will be seriously displeased.

Chains of Heart (Sat iQIYI) 3 of 10 - I kind of love Ken’s slightly idiot gay couple friends. (I do love all of the queer family we are getting these days.) They better not betray him! Still, this is one of those shows where, despite his competency, we haven’t really been given a reason to like Ken all that much. I’m not super invested in his grief or his new romance. The captions are BONKERS but the sex scenes are good. I hope LueKen deliver as well as DinKen. Gotta say, despite my grumbling, I did enjoy it more this week.

Tin Tam Jai (Tues Gaga & iQIYI) ep 1 of 10 - I am not a huge fan of the tsundere seme, especially if they are the older character. But this is a really good cast and for a pulp it’s actually okay acted and captioned. It’s cute. Campy. Old school Thai. I do like a flirty uke who knows what he wants. Lots of very prototypical tropes. Is it good? Well, no, but I’m still gonna watch it.

Love Syndrome (Thai Sat WeTV) ep 1 of 10 - Terrible subs again. They a hot couple but Itt is a revolting character, asshole rather than brat. Day is VERY sexy tho. This one is messy and rough and will likely involve cheating AND the amnesia trope. I might put it onto the binge pile.

Our Winter (Thai & Korea YT & TikTok under ThaiMiniSeries) eps 8-9 of 14 - TutorYim are cute. And nice to have decent music with Thai actors for a change.

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

All the Liquors (Korea Thurs Gaga & Viki) ep 1-2 of 8 - Oh my God, breaking up with a man because he picked the wrong restaurant for a holiday meal is v relatable, but the reaction ”how can you break up with me before we’ve eaten?” is the best thing ever. I may identify with our baby party boy hedonist more than any other BL lead ever presented. I adore how Korea is leaning into “out gay boys” these days. Love love love the gay bestie. This is on the New Employee end of the KBL spectrum, no bad thing. Not sure about the alcoholism angle tho. Still, this is a fun show! I don’t even mind the crash into me trope when combined with baby is a floppy drunk trope.

HIStory 5: Love in the Future (Taiwan Weds Viki) ep 10fin (or 19&20) - Not at all surprised that Vincent (Sam? How many names does this man need?) was pulling a double cross, because from the credits we knew the pairs get along. Couple’s necklaces and a sweet make up sequence for the sides. Nice sex scene and manufactured drama for the mains. Ultra cheese fest ending for all including random H4 couple. Full review and rating below.

Jack o’Frost (Japan GaGa) ep 3 of 6 - The first time sex scene from the past was sweet and well done. That said, a traditional BL romance is not what this story is doing. It’s about 2 people at different points in a romantic journey, one of whom has memories of a failed relationship (and associated baggage) and the other who does not (so is starting at fresh). It’s using high concept to explore this, but that means (this beaning Japan) HEA is on shakey ground. Also, still running a bit low energy for me.

It’s Airing But ...

Blue Sky Complex (Japan ???) 5 eps for VR - Kei Ichikawa's manga is getting a JBL adaptation. Weird distribution though, it started Feb 27 sequentially on 360 Channel (SHOCHIKUch) a VR video distribution service. Will inter-fans ever get to see this, and if it’s filmed for VR will it adapt without being overly dark and fuzzy? I have questions. But as usual, you do you Japan and we will wait (im)patiently to see if you remember the rest of the world exists. This is my preferred kind of live action yaoi, so fingers crossed:

Boyband (Thai) ep 2 of 10 - Stopped airing on YouTube, and only available in Thailand & Japan. Not sure if they’re working a distribution deal or just fucking with us.

Cafe In Love (Thai ???) 10 eps on Ch3+ - Thai pulp, about trying to save a coffee shop. FairyGodBLer came through for me, but I’m collecting to binge just in case. It’s my new policy with the grey stuff.

Destiny Seeker (Tues WeTV Thailand) 10 eps - it’s not on any WeTV I can get ahold of. Bad Buddy the pulp rebirth meets Japanese handsome host club action. Same as above.

Heesu In Class 2 (Korea Thurs unknown, I check Viki Gaga iQIYI) - A gay(er) version of Sex Education. I’m still not sure this one is actually happening.

Finished This Week

My Beautiful Man 2 AKA Utsukushii Kare Season 2

These two have such a great DS dynamic. Only Hira would apologize for fucking and wanting to fuck his own boyfriend, but doing it anyway. Talk about a service top with a humiliation fetish. Sheesh. The masochism is strong with this one. (Since I do not deal with humiliation fetishists well, the cringe factor got to me a little.) Still, pouty jealous Kiyoi is the cutest. [One flaw: The photographer dude should have been played by Kenta. Just a little joke.]

SUMMATION

All in all, this 2nd season didn’t blow me away the way the 1st did. It was quieter and more uniform in its narrative and messaging - thus more predictable. The basic relationship misunderstanding remained the same - all about value and self worth and how that’s assessed. The result is a dialogue between imposter syndrome and a parasocial relationship. If these 2 only had the language and framework of BDSM to understand each other, than they would, but they don’t so the story is us watching them suffer for it. But that’s part of the fun. Part of their fun too, I think, as if the fighting and misunderstanding is just another one of their many kinks. An engaging and solid second installment that was so consistent, I’m going to keep the rating consistent too. 9/10

HIStory 5: Love in the Future

High concept of a man from the past traveling to Covid times and getting involved with a spoiled rich kid soon to be CEO that ultimately made for a dull story. Sides were stellar but intentional miscommunication as a narrative driver never works for me. Good chemistry, nice sex scenes, and a cheesy ending (90% of the time) is Taiwan’s BL brand. I expected nothing less. But there is a little part of me that hoped for something more. 7/10

Never Let Me Go

Bodyguard romance where poor boy must watch over rich boy for family obligation reasons. Simple premise well executed with a few bumps that made it feel like it was trying to tackle too much (when it wasn’t). Still, an enjoyable show that benefited from being handed to PondPhuwin who did a stellar job with their roles and chemistry. Is it going into permanent rewatch rotation? No, but a solid GMMTV offering. 8/10

Moonlight Chicken

I enjoyed this complicated little show, even though it’s spectacularly messy gay with lots of shrapnel and authentic pain. I thought EarthMix turned in their most compelling performance to date. But it was GeminiFourth who stole my heart. That said, the most interesting central relationship was that of Jim & Li Ming, their father-son angst mixed with evident affection made me tear up. This was more slice of life than it was BL, but it ended happily so I’m not mad at it. 8/10

Gossip

Apparently Pavel (my love) has been added to the cast of Pit Babe, a Thai BL series I thought was defunked (it was supposed to be out in Jan). So I’m happy. I also put it back on the 2023 tracking sheet.

Tia51 announced upcoming sampler pack Thai BL My Universe. Normally I don’t report on Thai announcements, as they are pure speculation, but this one is reported to feature 22 actors, 11 couples, 12 stories, and 24 episodes in August 2023. STOP OR YOU’LL GO BLIND. (FB page BLUpdate2020 has a full rundown of the 12 stories.) No MDL listing that I can find. Giving the War or Y peeps a run for their money? Or just epic Thai BL lever pulp-tastic insanity?

New Pinoy BL Stay announced, 6 eps featuring boys who unexpectedly meet in Los Angeles. More here.

In case you missed it

Jeff Satur is leaving BeOnCloud. Honestly, who tf didn’t see this coming? He just dropped a MV with SHAUN (Steal The Show). Jeff is one of the biggest Thai indies and Shaun is legacy Kpop indie. Jeff was and is always more focused on singing and that’s busted a pair before. Frankly speaking, he's ambitious and doesn’t need BeOnCloud. I’m a big believer in breaking from an agency if you have the platform to go it alone. And just because he’d not repped by them doesn’t me he can’t still work with them, sheesh calm down KP fandom. (Honestly this seems to be my mantra since that damn show aired.)

Next Week Looks Like This:

03/08 - Pastsenger (Thai Gaga) 12 eps- Stars Marc (My Gear & Your Gown) and Cooper (My Engineer) both formerly paired with others, in a time travel paranormal that smacks of HIStory 5. Sunshine 90s kid travels to 2022, goes to university, encounters grumpy nerd.

03/09 - Our Dating Sim (Korea unknown) - What happens when two men, friends since schoo, meet again at work to create a dating simulation game together.

03/12 Future (Thai YouTube & Gaga?) 5 eps - Based on a y-novel by Faddest (En of Love - yeah I didn’t know that was based on a novel, either). About, you guessed it, an engineering student and a dentist. Maybe this will be the FOTS we were all hoping for? Fuse (the engineering student) is played by Boom from the En of Love and is kinda the same character (Field). I think we can expect this one to be soft, it’s from the 21 Day Theory people. (maybe March 19 international)

Full list of upcoming in March 2023 is here.

2023 forthcoming BL master post. (see comments, some are inaccurate, NOT KEPT UPDATED)

This Week in Subs of Qua?

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

I liked this scene in Moonlight Chicken so much I did a whole post about it.

Chains of Heart the past relationship. can’t wait to see if they do as well with the present one.

(last week)

Current Kpop earworm? Peacemaker by P1Harmony (I’m considering stanning this group because their rap line is insane, everyone can dance, Theo is beautiful, and Keeho is an adorable nut job with a great voice. Talk about a boy who should do BL, and probably would without a care in the world. Stop him though, these boys are gonna be the next Monsta X.)

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girlcalledwhatsername · 1 year

Text

One of those "is it worth it" debates i find myself having with myself is about mental health related posts that may make good points otherwise but subscribe heavily to and reference and frame mental illness through the biomedical model and the widespread (but false) idea that a chemical imbalance causes these issues. Comprehensive explanation for this + resources here. (Also worth looking into this activist's work where she describes what paychiatric gaslighting looks like)

The thing is I do not want to spread that misinformation anymore. It was presented to me as fact despite there being little proof of it, for a long time in my life from psychology teachers to therapists to psychiatrists of course. Just treated as a natural fact when it was literally pseudoscience on the same level as most rudimentary psychoanalysis.

So I have to make the decision to either simply not reblog it and therefore not engage with the wider mental health discourse and let people be mistaken from what is possibly just an honest mistake as something that has been taught to us all so so largely, they very well might just honestly not know it not be true, and then by leaving it alone I am letting that myth perpetuate from well-meaning people...

Or...

I actually correct the person, get a bunch of people who find their worldview so suddenly challenged being angry about it and calling me anti science as often happens and get retraumatised over my experiences with Psychiatric abuse at large.

And although I mostly choose the former and simply don't engage it leaves me feeling uneasy because I know I was that person once who didn't think to question the validity of chemical imbalance theories and if someone had told me about it honestly it would have saved me a world of pain. But too many people are progressive only on the surface and hate to have to consider abolitionist approaches to oppressive systems, too many people genuinely believe a host of more stigmatised symptoms and disorders to be deserving of incarceration or erasure, and i have no way of knowing who these people would be. And this is why pop psychology and liberal mental health advocates have run the anti-psych movement into the shadows - a movement to which we owe every step of our liberation as mentally ill people.

So how do you make this a bigger conversation again?

Like. Tell me this isn't blatantly a mass misinformation campaign at this point

[linked here]

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milkawashere-andunused · 1 year

Text

Just an Idea-

Rise Leo gets thrown into the 2012 tmnt universe with a twist!

Part 2!

Here’s the last part:

I’ve changed the ending a bit, so check that out if you haven’t already….

My therapist was sick today, so I’m writing this to stay sane or something…

Also because you guys seem to like the idea so much…

So here it is, I guess…

Again: This is only an Idea!

There will be mistakes and I have no Idea how much motivation I have for this, so don’t expect me to continue this story…

And there may be some spoilers to the 2012 TMNT series…

Anywhizzle~

Here it is:

____________

His misses his family.

Kaito opened his eyes, just in time to land on the next rooftop without stumbling.

He couldn’t afford rolling when he landed since his backpack was filled with breakable things.

Kaito has now been stuck in this universe for solid 13 years.

He had long given up on actively finding a way home, since he doesn’t have much knowledge in the technical field - so he could build himself a machine or something - nor was his ninpo ninpo strong enough to get him through universes - unless he wanted to turn himself into a pile of dust only to open one portal home, which wouldn’t help anyone.

So he gave up. Somewhat. It hurt accepting that he could probably never get home. It still does and he wanted to see his family so desperately but no matter what he did he would never return.

But now he has a new family. An alternative Version of his brothers, him and their father.

They would never be able to replace his real family and he would never want that, but it often made his heart ache, seeing so many similarities between them and his brothers.

Often it was too much, sending him into a short episode of depression, where he can’t seem to get out of bed no matter how much he tries and it often took this Splinter to come and wrap him into a strong and firm hug, murmuring reassurances until he felt better or good enough to actually at least eat something.

They never asked what the cause for these episodes is and even if they would ask he could never tell them the truth.

The episodes became less and less over the years, but if the similarities were to strong, when these turtles were to much alike to his brothers, it would sent him into another spiral.

Kaito slipped down the fire escape and landed in an narrow alleyway.

The slider pushed the manhole cover aside and climbed down, slipping the cover back into place.

Kaito often snuck out when Splinter wasn’t looking, mostly when the younger turtles were asleep or when the elder rat was too occupied with them to notice.

The rat-man was very overprotective and often told them how awful humans were and what they would do if one of them got seen or even captured.

Kaito often found these stories silly.

Humans were stupid, often too occupied with their own problems to even notice a teenager that was overdressed in the hottest days of the year and had a way to bulky back to be even considered normal.

But he would never speak up and voice his thoughts, since that would reveal his secret sneak-outs and would make the other turtles jealous, since they never been to the topside before.

Well, until now.

It was their birthday or - what Splinter would call it - mutationday and they would finally turn 15.

Meaning they could finally go to the surface and that had to be celebrated.

Hence the backpack. It was filled with ingredients to bake the perfect cake.

Kaito gotten better in cooking over the years, leaning from Splinter, who patiently taught him how to make good dishes. It often ended up with Kaito ruining the simplest dishes there are, but perfecting the most complicated ones.

No, Kaito has no idea how that works and to this day Splinter and Donatello are still questioning how Kaito managed to burn water - Kaito could never give them an answer.

Even in his original universe he’d never been able to cook simple dishes and Mikey would often have a breakdown, because not even the worlds best chef (Mikey) could figure out how that can be.

Kaito slipped through the Lair and into the kitchen, setting down his backpack before pulling down his hood, that was attached to the white grey-ish scarf around his neck. Then he moved to pluck the tools out of the cupboards and set them down on the counter.

His new life has been full of chaos and Kaito would question why he ever thought it would be otherwise.

The turtles were a handful and Kaito had to take care of them often when Splinter went to the surface for food.

Leonardo was quiet and often sat in some corner of the room or next to Kaito and would only ever watch the others play. But sometimes, when he felt energetic enough he would roughhouse with Raphael, which often ended with the two having bite marks, bruises and scratches all over their bodies.

Raphael was quite aggressive and Kaito often had a hard time getting him to calm down. The third oldest would often rile the others up and pick a fight with Leonardo, which made it almost impossible to calm them down again. The turtle often remind him of his Raph when the snapper was younger.

Donatello would often tinker with the toaster or the TV and Kaito often had to keep him from electrocuting himself. Once Kaito even took his tool box from him, which resulted in not only a huge temper tantrum but also Donnie making it his mission to make Kaito‘s life a living hell as revenge. He was so much like a certain spiny softshell turtle.

Michelangelo loved to shove almost everything into his mouth and not often Kaito had to save Michelangelo from swallowing inedible things and choking on them in the process. He was just as energetic as his Mikey, but unlike the boxshell, this Mikey wasn’t as good at cooking and art, but he had great skills in other areas.

All these problems got better over the years, but even now Raphael and Leonardo would get into fights, Donatello would tinker with something that would blow up into his face while he would never wear any safety gear and Michelangelo would try the most disgusting combos of food imaginable while they’re already rotten.

Kaito carefully applied the lairs of the cake, before putting it into the oven with a proud smile.

Now he had to wait.

Splinter was different that his own.

He was stricter and often acted like a teacher, especially in the dojo, but would always be father when needed and is always there for the turtles.

He was, well, a better father, better that his Splinter.

Kaito felt saver and more accepted with this Splinter. He may be intimidating, but the man had always advise to any problem and would always encourage him to be himself.

Kaito moved to another cupboard, taking out a mug and setting it down near the stove where the teakettle stood. He filled the kettle with water and turned on the stove after putting the kettle back onto its spot. He fished out a teabag out of nearest cupboard and placed it into the mug, before dropping into a seat with a heavy sigh.

Everything was a bit too much lately. Too much noise, too much touch, too much smell, too many emotions.

No matter how long it’s been since he left his and dropped into this dimension, the pain of loosing his family and then being replaced by another version of them never really went away.

Of course he had no intention of replacing them, but they were still too much alike at times. It was painful to witness.

Kaito stood up again, turning the stove off, before the Kettle had a chance to whistle and took it from its place to fill his mug with hot water.

“Is there enough for one more?”, a deep and smooth voice suddenly asked.

Kaito jumped slightly, turning to look at the elder rat with wide eyes, swallowing thickly.

“I- I think so”, Kaito finally replied peering into the kettle.

Yes. That surely be enough.

“Which one do you want, Father?”

Splinter walked past him and took a mug and teabag for himself.

Kaito pressed his lips together into a fine line.

He was in trouble.

Splinter gently took the kettle out of the sliders hands, filling his own mug, before setting onto his usual seat at the head of the kitchen table.

Kaito joined him on his left with a bit of hesitation.

The silence that followed was unbearable.

Splinter didn’t say anything, didn’t look at him in any way that would suggest that he was suspicious of him.

But Kaito knew.

He knew, Splinter knew.

Damnit.

The guilt was eating away at him and Splinter was just waiting for him to burst.

Shit.

Why did this guy know him better that his ‘original’ father?!

Kaito shrinks in his seat.

Fuck.

“Why are you still awake, Kaito?”, Splinter asked calmly, radiating his fatherly aura that would make anyone crumble - or, well, him and his new-old brothers.

“Insomnia”, he tried.

Splinter gave him a look.

The guy already knew. What’s the point in trying to hide it?

Kaito let his head shrink into his shell a little.

“‘’m sorry”, he mumbled.

The ninja master sighed, putting his mug on the table.

“Kaito—“

“I’m sorry! I just wanted to make them happy! I thought—“

Splinter held up his hand and Kaito immediately shut his mouth.

“You had pure intentions, I don’t doubt that”, he explained carefully. “But you cannot keep going up to the surface with no backup! You could’ve been hurt and no one would be there to help you!”

Kaito swallowed. He knew that and Kaito wonders distantly how much the old man knew about his little trips.

The old ninja master sighs. “Your brothers will accompany you from now on, Kaito. I want you to be careful and lead them to victory. They never been up there before. You have to be patient with them, okay?”

Kaito blinked, surprised, then nodded. “Of course, father! I will take care of them!” Splinter smiled softly, rubbing Kaito’s head. “I don’t doubt that, my son”, the old rat murmured.

Kaito smiled. “Would you like to help me finish the cake for the four?”

Splinter chuckled, lifting a brow.

***

Leo readied his sword, clutching the long, beautiful hilt with both hands as his ocean blue eyes pierced into Mikey’s baby blue ones.

Mikey rolled his shoulders, nunchucks ready as he narrowed his eyes at his older brother, determination shining within them.

Leo tensed his muscles, charging forward with a yell, sword raised in attack and Mikey chuckled with glee.

“Oh yeah!”, he exclaimed as he, too, bolted forward, swinging his nunchucks.

“Michelangelo is on the move!”, he chirped teasingly, jumping over Leo as he swiped his sword down to strike.

Mikey landed gracefully behind him in a crouch, giggling happily as Leo turned and scowled at his younger brother with the orange mask.

Leo bolted forward again, moving quickly, but Mikey was quicker, jumping and twisting around Leo’s sword, teasing Leo for his misses.

Mikey continued to tease Leo, letting his guard down and Leo took his chance and swiped down with his sword.

Mikey yelped, dodging.

Leo turned, smirking at the other.

Mikey grinned. “How can you stop something, you can’t even see?!”, he asked, wiggling his arms around before getting back into fighting stance.

Leo didn’t answer, simply going back into stance as well. This time he waited for Mikey to attack first, narrowing his eyes.

Leo thrusted the hilt of his sword into Mikey’s stomach, latter dropping his weapons, rolling past Leo and clutching his stomach with a grunt.

“Like That?”, Leo asked smugly.

“Good one, Leo”, Mikey wheezed out.

The youngest made a dramatic hurling sound, landing on his side with a whine, before he stood up and went to the sidelines, watching Raph and Donnie fight, while Leo waited for them to finish.

Raph won, twisting Donnie’s stolen bō-staff before breaking it over his knee and using the two sticks to wrack them over Donnie’s shell.

The tall, lanky turtle, yelled in protest, throwing his arms over his head to protect it.

“Okay! Okay! I’m down! I’m down!”, Donnie yelped, surrendering and Raph stepped away from his younger brother, throwing the broken staff to the side, to face his older brother.

Donnie walked over to Mikey with slumped shoulders, sitting down next to him with a disappointed groan.

Raph and Leo readied themselves.

Raph’s sais and Leo’s sword locked with a loud cling, the two turtles pressing forward with all their strength to get the other to back down.

Toxic green eyes lock wit ocean blue ones and they both grunt, before Leo twist them around, Raph stumbling a little and dodging the blade that almost beheaded him, but he wasn’t even fazed by it.

Raph charged forward again with a yell and their weapons cling together ruthlessly until Leo managed to twist his sword in the right way that Raph’s sai flys out of his hand and dunking onto the wall between Donnie’s and Mikey’s head, who don’t even flinch.

Raph and Leo charged again with a yell.

And suddenly Leo’s sword was out of his hand, cluttering against the mats of the dojo and the Moto of Raph��s sai twisted around Leo’s wrist.

Leo yelped as he flew over Raph’s shoulder, his shell making contact with the mats with a loud thud.

Leo groaned, clutching his wrist.

He looked up, Raph standing over him with his hands on his hips and the smuggest look anyone could muster.

“Nice try”, Raph said mockingly, but then his gaze softened and he helped Leo up with a chuckle of victory.

“Yame!”, Splinter called, stepping into the dojo, emerald staff, clicking against the ground softly.

The four turtles gather in the middle of the dojo, hands on their knees.

Kaito stood by the tree that has miraculously grown here, despite there being no sun whatsoever.

Leo gave his father and teacher a quick bow as he passes by, while the others don’t and his eyes fall onto the oldest of the five. He wonders why Kaito hasn’t shown up for their morning training today…

“You did very well”, Splinter praised, walking around and behind them.

“But I did better”, Raph said smugly and Leo shot him an disbelieving and flabbergasted look.

Splinter halted behind his third oldest, holding up his hand. “This is about self improvement, Raphael. It’s not about winning and loosing”

Raph huffed and Kaito crossed his arms, lifting an unimpressed, nonexistent brow at the red-masked turtle.

Raph’s smug expression faltered a little.

“I know, sensei”, Raph said and held back his “But I won and they lost” unhappily.

Kaito’s send him a soft smile and a thumbs up, telling him that he was proud of Raph without saying anything.

Raph felt a little lighter and he straightened his back again.

***

Kaito placed the breakfast onto the table with a grin and received loud “Thank you”s for his efforts.

The family of six ate together, chatting happily and soon finishing their plates.

Kaito slipped out of his chair. “I hope you got room for more!”, he chirped and took the cake out of its hiding spot and placing it onto the table.

“Happy mutation day, guys!”, he exclaimed happily and lit the four candles on top of the cake.

The four cheered loudly, throwing their arms into the air.

“Happy mutation day”, they cheered back, thanking Kaito for the cake and tackling him into a big hug, while Splinter chuckled before sighing wistfully.

“Ah yes. Fifteen years ago today, our lives changed forever and we became the unlikeliest of families”, he said with a soft smile, body relaxing into his chair.

Mikey leaned onto the table, looking up at Splinter expectingly. “Tell us the story master Splinter!”

Splinter lifted a brow and all of the others settled back into their chairs, them too, wanting to hear the story.

“Michelangelo, I have already told it many times!”, Splinter sighed, but he still smiled.

There was some more begging, before Splinter reluctantly retold the story.

Kaito leaned back. He had heard the story a million times before.

At first, hearing this story was interesting, exciting. He wanted to know if there was some similarities between his brothers and them and how they were mutated, but no.

They were mutated accidentally by this worlds Kraang and that’s about it. No super soldiers, no mystic powers, not even Splinter once being a film star. Nothing.

It was boring now. He understood things that Splinter didn’t even mention in his stories. Like him not being a former film star, him just having moved to New York before he was mutated…

That stuff. He knew. But not the reasons or other things that the ninja master didn’t want to talk about.

That was okay. Everyone has their secrets, just like him…

—————————

I Hope this was okay! Again, there could be spelling mistakes and all that jazz

But I hope I’ve written the fighting scene well!

#rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the tmnt #rottmnt leo #tmnt #rise leo #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt 2012 #save rottmnt #tmnt crossover #rottmnt crossover #2012 tmnt x rottmnt crossover

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wordsinhaled · 2 years

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Also. I gotta say. In my opinion, if you are born (even in the most eldritch sense of the word) and love and desire and cause problems because you had an emotion too hard, you count as a person. And I have Feelings, as someone in a "helping profession," about how utterly subsumed the Endless are in their duties. Like, sheesh, maybe it's what they were born to do, but what about hobbies? Work-life balance? Maybe they DO need a good lawyer.

yessss, hello fellow helping professional! high five! o/ we need a “helping professionals in sandman fandom” network, clearly! paging @dancinbutterfly for the vibes :D

i mean, if any of the endless have got it figured out it’s death. she knows how to be in the moment, live in the world, and experience things beyond her duty - even if it is tied to coping with the reality of doing her duty. she has the most Been to Therapy unconditional positive regard energy about her and it’s lovely.

and, like, how much of that comes from the overwhelm of perpetually holding space for the super existential experience of mortality? from the crushing realization of the transience of all beings? from being parentified because of how time and night totally fumbled their parenting? it would be an absolute mindfuck if she didn’t take her shoes off once in a while and touch grass, meet some people, understand what it’s all for.

death finds space for her emotionality and makes meaning of it within her purpose, which is ultimately to bear witness to the emotionality of others while allowing it to be in harmony with her own empathy.

*cough* death’s basically already a therapist in spirit, i’m just saying.

and yeah, dream is the opposite example—so consumed by his work and using his perception of his “purpose” and the laws of the universe as shields. because to allow himself to exist outside of that purpose means to admit vulnerability to extremes of emotion which are scary and uncomfortable. but dream’s purpose by definition, as it were, to steward the dreaming and guide all dreamers, isn’t necessarily a directive for him to be unemotional—this is something he imposes on himself to avoid big hurty feelings like rejection, heartbreak, loss.

he must understand emotions to fulfill his purpose, he feels them and knows them in the dreams of mortals, but keeps himself one step removed because Big Emotions are scary!!! and so he approaches them with this massive amount of squeamishness because how can he Be In The World and not become overwhelmed?

but the good emotions are so tempting! experiencing passion, love, being wanted; and then on a basic level, feeling acceptance, finding belongingness. things he has not had consistently in his hierarchy of needs. they feel good! there’s this part of him that surely thinks, could this not be for me, too? and stifles it with, no, my self-denial is a fitting punishment for the selfish nature i’ve been taught i possess. and he is so starved of these positive emotional experiences that when he allows himself to feel them he feels them with world-breaking intensity.

but is it selfish to want to feel? is it really? who taught you that? why do you not deserve the same care you show the dreaming? what does it mean about your entire self-concept if people actually care about you? if it isn’t true you’re alone in the world? how do you grapple with that? with the total upending of the entire worldview that keeps you safe from pain?

a mindfuck.

he needs a lawyer. he needs a therapy session (or a thousand of them). he needs to hang out with his sister more. he needs lots of hugs from hob. and he needs to feed the pigeons in the park, and watch shakespeare performances, and go down the pub with his very mortal immortal friend, and go to open mics, and look at street art, and live in the world, and be happy, and do more things “it g[ives] him pleasure so to do”

(also yes, this journey is What It Looks Like and i’ll just say i’d seriously consider crisis planning if he were a client)

#the sandman #dream of the endless

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actual-changeling · 5 months

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Do you think Aziraphale has been verbally, emotionally and psychologically abused by Heaven as well?

I will answer this question like one asked in good faith even though my gut is telling me there's a 50/50 chance it is very much not one.

So!

There are two parts to his answer, or rather one question is actually two.

Firstly, we have to talk about whether heaven is abusive, what that abuse looks like, and how it differs from hell.

Secondly, how did the results of question one affect Aziraphale, if it is different from what the other angels in heaven face, and what additional trauma might he have experienced due to being on earth.

I could write a 10k meta post about this and go into the finest detail, but I will just try and stick to the main points for now. It's still going to be way too long because I am so fucking tired of people accusing me of 'hating' Aziraphale or harassing me on my posts or in my inbox.

Is heaven abusive? Yes, and it applies to both heaven as an institution and the Archangels running it.

Getting to know Muriel and what their life looks like was extremely helpful in properly defining this, because they showed us that although the Archangels tend to travel and work as a group, most of the angels are incredibly isolated.

The result is complete emotional neglect, which not only impairs your ability to form and maintain healthy relationships with other people, it also stops your from learning emotional regulation and how to behave and feel as a part of (angelic) society. We see the consequences of that in Muriel, who comes across as overly naive, socially awkward, and out of touch with not just people but themselves.

When your entire life has been shrunk down to what happens inside your own head, suddenly being confronted with having to live outside of your mind is jarring, overwhelming, and foreign.

How do you talk to people when no one ever taught you how to do that? How do you behave around someone after a lifetime of being alone? How do your regulate your responses to their behaviour?

Who are you when there is someone else to perceive you?

Figuring that out is complicated and it takes time, and while most of the angels are only distantly aware of how humans live and what kind of interactions some of the other angels might have, the effects of that neglect stay the same whether they are aware of it or not.

Muriel shows us that angels are not born/made as a blank slate, and neither are humans for that matter. Tabula rasa as a philosophical belief is one thing, but reality is very, very different.

Angels also appear to have the same inherent need for connection, for a caretaker that loves them unconditionally, for someone to help them figure out how to be, and that provides a safe space to make mistakes. Without some or all of that, you grow up into a disregulated, socially awkward if not inept person who does not know how to have relationships or how to properly exist.

It is one of the reasons why autistic people are a) almost always traumatized to some degree and b) do not know how to socialize. No one ever works with our brains, and the resulting neglect is very similar to not receiving any help at all.

If you are now curious what happens if you're both autistic and were completely socially neglected, the result is uh. me. Hi! Not nice, but at least I am very sure I win the award for being my therapist's most fucked up client, so that's something.

Yet the angels are not solely emotionally neglected, the system/household they live in demands a low self-esteem, a lack of individual identity, and complete adherence to a defined ideology and behavioural pattern. In short, you are told how to be a useless, tiny part in a bigger machine, that your only purpose is to succeed at your tasks, and any opportunity for individual development is removed or destroyed.

If you are now once again curious what that might be like, uh, yeah, hi once more. Obviously my childhood was not exactly like an angels life, but the core characteristics were the same, just realized differently. Again, not pretty, really, really fucks you over.

Take that and the neglect, combine it into one person, and then drop them in the Garden of Eden—hello Aziraphale! Crowley got dropped into hell first, experienced more abuse, and then dug his way up into Eden before joining him.

Aziraphale experienced everything Muriel (and Crowley, and every other celestial being) also experienced, with one main difference: He is the one who got away.

We have to remember that out of every single celestial being, Aziraphale got the best deal. He did not fall, he got out of heaven (more or less) permanently, and was then largely left alone.

Does that erase anything I laid out above? No, of course not!

It simply provided him with the opportunity to heal, to take his cPTSD and who knows what other disorders he developed as a result, and start recovering.

Canonically, heaven did not bother him, like, ever, except for the odd note about 'frivolous miracles' or ten minutes of catching up every millennia. They only started monitoring him once they started to suspect he was involved with Crowley and trying to stop the apocalypse from happening.

Aziraphale worked on some things, he got better in many regards, especially with Crowley there to support him, but after six thousand years, many aspects have stayed the same or regressed back to the start over and over.

I will tell you a hard pill to swallow now: If you refuse to acknowledge your issues to instead live in a world of nicer denial and compartmentalization even when you have been offered the chance to change it, that is partly on YOU.

Is it fair? Fuck no! It's not fair at all, and I have had so many breakdowns over that fact. I did not break it, this is not my FAULT so why should I have to fix it all on my own? Why do I have to do the work, not them? How come they get away with it while I am going to have to carry this for the rest of my life?

I still have to do it though. I have to do the work, no matter how uncomfortable and exhausting, because I want to get better.

This conversation has so many facets and is a lot more complex, but this is already long enough, so if you have any questions or want to know something specific (while asking politely and in good faith) just send me an ask; I will do my best to answer it.

We are now only missing the last part of question 2, and that one is also so fucking complicated reducing it to the main points almost feels wrong, but I will do it anyway. Again, just ask if you have questions.

Abusive households are horrible, and you want to get out and away, but they are also the only thing you know. The world is scary, too big, too open, where did all the rules go that were previously defining your life?

Surviving in an abusive environment means you establish routine after routine after routine for every possible horrible scenario, you write a mental rule book to try and reduce the abuse (don't make them angry, don't cry when they're already shouting, don't do this, don't do that, do x but not y), and THAT is your socialization. THAT is everything you know, everything you are, everything you know relationships to be like.

Once you are away from that, you are completely and utterly lost. Even breathing feels like making a mistake, you feel watched, judged, rated, berated, you have them stuck in your fucking head. So you keep sticking to what you know, your behavioural patterns that have kept you safe your entire life.

The problem is that they kept you safe, past tense. In a healthy environment, all of those coping mechanisms are now maladaptive and harm you instead of keeping you safe.

However, breaking out of them and starting from scratch is terrifying. So, so, so terrifying. I live in constant fear, I feel judged and unsafe in my own flat with the curtains shut and the lights on. I feel like I am about to get subjected to another one of his fits for daring to use the stove.

No matter what you do, your body and brain are SCREAMING at you that diverging from what you know will kill you—and then you have to do it anyway.

Do it alone and afraid and awkwardly but DO IT. Otherwise you will always find a way to recreate the environment you grew up in, whether that is people getting into unhealthy relationships and replicating the patterns they know (which Aziraphale does with Crowley, e.g. the push-pull of his affection) or eventually even returning to it because they ruined you, but a part of you is so, so attached to them you just have to try and change them.

Some people can move on from it without going back, but sometimes you need to try and experience that failure for yourself before being able to move on, and that's where Aziraphale is at.

He needs to try and fail to be capable of finally committing to recovering.

So, to summarize this entire shitshow: Yes, Aziraphale experienced emotional neglect and abuse, and while it is different to what Crowley went through and objectively less intense and physical, it is still just as valid and horrid.

Just because a car accident is objectively worse than falling off a bike doesn't mean the biker's pain is unimportant. Both can kill you, both can hurt you, and both deserve to get their injuries treated.

Questions?

#alex answers asks #alex talks good omens #good omens #good omens meta #aziraphale #crowley #aziraphale meta #good omens season 2 #go2 #aziracrow #crowley x aziraphale #ineffable husbands #ineffable wives #ineffable spouses #ineffable divorce #the final fifteen #heaven is terrible #trauma discussion #long post

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