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mrs-weasley-reid · 1 year

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Therapy Sessions

bau!team x psychiatrist!reader

Summary: fem!psychiatrist!reader has been a longtime psychiatrist of the BAU team. Always there to listen to their troubles. But what if she mysteriously disappears?

Warning: use of y/n and l/n, curse word(s?), mentions of trauma? (kind of)

part 2 (Doctor is In)

Monday, 11:04 AM

"Have you heard from Dr. L/N? I wanted to schedule my next appointment but can't reach her cell." Spencer, being your frequent visitor, asked his teammates as he stared at his flip phone in deep thought. Maybe the problem was his phone?

Emily turned her seat, legs crossed and arms flat on the armrests of her chair. "I actually wanted to schedule one yesterday. I couldn't reach her cell either." She shrugged, leaning backwards.

Derek rolled his eyes, "Maybe she's on a date? Let the woman have a life." He was your newest patient, though you have been listening to his troubles for 2 years.

You have been the BAU team's psychiatrist for the past six years, or more, you couldn't remember. All you could remember was how they slowly piled, one by one, in your office and shared their deepest sorrows to the safety of your listening ear.

It started when Spencer needed someone to rant to. He arrived at your clinic, soaking wet from the rain, and clutching your business card in his hand. You were about to leave for the day, but you didn't mind the extra hours you had to spend.

Then came JJ, who brought her concerns for Spencer but was completely anxious over different things. She was the sweetest woman alive that you have ever met. And it sometimes pained you to know that she had to endure adversities.

The others crammed right in like children asking for a little bit of company in the dark, and you were more than happy to provide them with a cozy sofa and a listening ear.

Spencer and Emily let go of the topic. Derek was right. They had to let you have a life outside of work, outside of listening from their cries. They bothered you with the shallowest inconvenience 24/7, and it didn't sit right to deprive you of having time off.

With that said, nonetheless, you have been part of their family. Even if you weren't a profiler, they welcomed you to one of Rossi's dinner parties just the same.

Emily loved to joke that you were their sweet, softhearted mommy, while Aaron Hotchner was their strict dad. You always laughed at that.

Tuesday, 4:32 PM

Penelope was maniacally tapping on her keys as she searched for information that the group asked her to look for. They flew out this morning, almost teleporting to Los Angeles for a fast escalating serial killer.

A ringing echoed in her background, waiting for the recipient to pick up the call. The number was yours.

"You've reached Dr. L/N's line. Please don't leave a message at all. Text me directly instead at 571..."

She sat up, rolling her chair across her room to reach her telephone and dropped the call. "No! Y/N! I need you to answer me so you can listen my dilemma!" Penelope whined, and speed dialed your number once again.

You may be the BAU's psychiatrist for six years, but you have been Penelope's psychiatrist for eight years. You were there when she broke down about the horrors of their recent cases, when she got shot, and many more events in her life that she couldn't help but rant about to you. You were her friend, and you felt honored to become one.

Wednesday, 10:57 PM

"Something's wrong." Spencer announced, sitting on the swivel chair with his legs crisscrossed.

Hotch immediately lifted his gaze from the file he had in his hands, glancing at Spencer. "What did you find?"

What the Unit Chief didn't know was that his youngest profiler has been staring into space for a good 30 minutes. Spencer fidgeted on the hem of his slacks. "Dr. L/N has never been MIA for more than a day." He replied, unaware of his conversation with his leader.

"Reid. I need your focus in this mission and not Dr. L/N's?" Hotch diverted, bringing his attention back to the file in his hands.

Thursday, 7:00 AM

Spencer's statement didn't leave the back of Hotch's mind, sending you a text as soon as his alarm went off. He couldn't get a blink of sleep.

As much as he tried to think about the case, worry for a compassionate friend began to creep in his veins.

Hey, if you don't mind. Would you happen to have time for me to visit on Saturday afternoon?

He tapped the sides of his phone, staring at the screen. With a small sigh, Hotch exited the bed and got ready for work.

Within the ten minutes he showered, a towel around his waist, Hotch glanced on the screen and furrowed his brows at the absence of your reply.

It wasn't like you were obligated to respond to him at that time of the day, but he had known you enough years to know that you were wide awake at the strike of 7 AM.

Hotch remembered clearly how the two of you coincidentally met at the park where he usually goes for a run. He learned then that you never fail to wake up on 5 AM in the morning, emptying your mind to make space for people's troubles that you gladly eased.

He dialed a phone number, "Hello, Garcia?"

Friday, 1:29 PM

The team arrived back to Quantico, wiped out and drained from the case, unenthusiastic of the fact that they had to stay for a few hours and complete some paperwork before they could finally go home.

"Did L/N change her number?" JJ walked in the bullpen, waving her phone to the others. She placed a hand on her hip as she navigated through her phone, preparing to edit your contact information.

Not to create competition, but JJ had it worst in their past case. The anxiety that coursed through her bloodstream needed the comfort of your soft voice. She would discuss it with her husband, Will, but you always understood better. She loved the way you explained her emotions to her, giving her a clearer vision of what she was feeling. It made it easier to express her feelings when she comes home to Will.

Spencer perked up, "I don't think so. She's very consistent with everything. She would've told us if she changed her number." He sat on his seat with his legs crisscrossed.

Derek didn't waste a minute and dialed your clinic's main landline. They should've been calling there to set an appointment anyways, but they were too attached to you to even bother. In their eyes, you were the whole clinic, no other psychiatrist available.

"Hi, you are calling from..." Multiple sighs of relief escaped out of the four of them when they finally got someone to pick up. "This is Alexa, what can I help you with today?"

"I wanted to set an appointment with Dr. L/N, does she have any open spots for this weekend?" Derek asked, making eye contact with the three agents with him, assuring them that everything was alright.

Until it wasn't.

"I'm sorry, Sir. Dr. L/N is not available right now but—"

"Is she on vacation?" Emily interjected, moving at the edge of her seat.

"Uh, who am I speaking to?"

They all exchanged looks. JJ leaned against Derek's desk, clearing her throat. "This is Jennifer Jareau from the FBI. I'm a friend of Dr. Y/N L/N and haven't been able to contact her in a while. I just wanted to ask if, by chance you have other means of contacting her?"

A long pause. Worry began to creep over their minds. They could hear murmurs and movements, and after three minutes of waiting, someone picked the phone back up.

"Good afternoon. My name is Dr. Basset, and I'm the head psychiatrist in the clinic. Unfortunately, we haven't heard of Dr. L/N since last Saturday. She hasn't been showing for her shift either. We were getting worried because she wasn't answering her personal cell and home landline. One of our staff knew where she lived, but her apartment was quiet. They said no one answered the door."

Well shit.

That wasn't normal for you to just disappear. You always notified the whole team three months before you would go on a vacation or a requested leave. So, you being unavailable with your means of communication spiked up their worry through the roof.

They nodded to each other, making a wordless agreement that whatever was happening, it was clear that it was not something they should take lightly.

"Okay, Dr. Basset. Is there a chance you can tell us any other information about Y/N? Her emergency contact, parents names, anything would help us." JJ swallowed the lump in her throat. Where could you be?

"Of course! Let me just go get it." Dr. Basset said, shuffling on his end.

Rossi walked out of his room with the intention of filling up his cup with another dose of coffee, but the expressions that the four agents had on their faces didn't pass his peripheral. "What happened? Did you all lose a bet with Garcia?"

Spencer turned his seat, "Dr. L/N is missing." He announced.

"Missing? Did someone report her missing?" Rossi knitted his brows. He wasn't frequent in your office, but he did have a monthly visit.

"She hasn't been to work for a week or answering any of our calls." Emily stated, biting the nail on her thumb.

"Call Hotch." Rossi told Emily, who didn't waste time nodding and went straight to Hotch's office. He looked at the others. "I know we everyone is tired from the case, but this one is very important."

Derek stood up, leather jacket wrapping his lean build. "You don't have to tell us twice." He glanced at Spencer, who was already standing, clutching his messenger bag. Then, to JJ, who nodded her chin of approval.

Emily was about to knock on Hotch's door when it swung open, a file in his hand. "We have a case." He announced.

"But-" Emily attempted to intervene, but he continued speaking.

"We need to find our psychiatrist, Dr. Y/N L/N. Penelope's on her way to debrief us. Gather in the conference room in five minutes."

#criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminalminds #cm #spencer reid #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #jenifer jareau #derek morgan #penelope garcia #david rossi #ssa jennifer #ssa spencer reid #ssa emily prentiss #ssa aaron hotchner #dr spencer reid #bau team #bau x reader #x reader

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maximumkillshot · 5 months

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I Can't Lose You- Part 7

Warnings: Descriptions of Grief, PTSD Flashback, Intense Grief, Mentions of Miscarriage, Pissed off Lee Know, Anxiety, Panic, Everyone is hurting but you knew this... right?

Pairing: Bang Chan x Reader

Characters: Stray Kids, Reader, Nurse, Soo?

A/N: Okay her we are with part 7 the song that I linked is what I had on repeat for part 6 &7 for the most part... I am so sorry and as always I'll be around for therapy after. If you really wanna cry, listen to what I listened to while writing this about 98% of the time, Can You Hold Me by NF and Britt Nicole.

I Can't Lose you Masterlist-CLICK HERE

Stray Kids Masterlist-CLICK HERE

ALL WORK IS UNDER ME AND MY BLOG. DO NOT TRY TO REPUBLISH OR STEAL MY WORK, AS THAT IS COPYRIGHTED UNDER ME AND IS CONSIDERED COPYRIGHT INFRINGEMENT WHICH IS A PUNISHABLE OFFENSE.

ANY WORK THAT YOU SEE ON OTHER SITES THAT ARE MY WORKS PLEASE NOTIFY ME IMMEDIATELY.

BEFORE: His body went into overdrive, the shock melting into panic. He wasn’t going to let Death take you, “Han hurry up, she's slipping!” He screamed at the door. His scream didn’t sound like him. The sound akin to a bystander watching a loved one jump from a bridge. Watching the body disappear all because of one step. He couldn’t wouldn’t let you fall. He screamed as if he dove for your hand, the same hand that fits so perfectly in his, as you threatened to disappear over the ledge of that bridge. Bin got closer to your ear, so you could hear him better, “Please don’t say that. I know it hurts, just stay with me, hold on. I’m here. Stay with me. You can’t leave me here, please.” Changbin tilted your head, so you could hear his heartbeat. Subconsciously thinking, If you go I go. He gently wrapped his arm across your breastbone, trying to provide some soothing pressure to your chest. His hand resting on your opposite arm, rubbing the meat of it in a soothing pattern. His other hand was petting your hair. The hold he had you in gave you someone to hold on to. As soon as his forearm rested you wrapped your hands around it, grabbing his hand as you dangled on the ledge. “Binnie it hurts, pleaseee. Help me, it hurtss.” You sobbed, your voice cracking and breaking, a mirror of your soul. Bin continued to slowly rock you, “I know Angel, I know I want to take it away. Just hold on for me. Hold on to me.” He had no idea how he was able to be calm for you. A part of him knew that he needed to. He was not going to collapse so you could face all of this on your own. He refused. He needed to fight for you, and he would, for eternity if he had to.

NOW:

The boys were trying their hardest to be calm, but some just couldn’t handle it. I.N. and Felix being the two that were physically holding their heads, crouched in the fetal position, trying to cover their ears as they heard your screams in the hallway.

Hyunjin went over to them and picked them up, their forms curling into him as they cried. Hyunjin couldn’t pinpoint why your screams sounded so unhuman, subconsciously trying to find a way to help. Once reality set in he realized, none of them had ever heard the scream of a mother who lost their child… not until today. That made chills go up his spine as goosebumps riddled his skin. That was why it sounded so unhuman. His mother once told him, “Children are supposed to bury their parents, not the other way around.” He found himself repeating those words out loud as tears fell down his face. He never thought he’d understand those words, but now that he does, he was numb, numb with pain.

I.N.’s heart was breaking for you as he heard you calling out to no one, asking for the impossible. He was trying to be strong but hearing you in so much pain was too much. “I want to help her Hyung but I don’t know how.” That broke Hyunjin even more because he couldn’t do anything. No one could.

Hyunjin rubbed his back saying,“We can only be here for her, Innah. We need to be here, make sure she knows we aren’t going anywhere. That’s all we can do. I wish we could do more, but we can’t.”

Felix was crying because the only thing that could happen was him hearing the screams of a person that he loves, a best friend he considers as his sister, while he can’t do anything at all. The frustration combined with the sadness sliced through him.

Seungmin was the one member whom no one expected to cry yet there he was, crying. No one in the entire group knew he was one of the most hurt. His reactions to everything were visceral. If he wasn’t using the railing lining the hall, he was certain his legs would give out. He faced the wall sobbing, feeling the cold wall on his forehead. He didn’t care that he was in a hallway in a hospital full of nursing staff and strangers. He had been holding all of it in for weeks now…

It all started about two months ago. When Seungmin had come over to the 3Racha house, he noticed some things. He was making some lunch while he waited for the others to come back from the gym. The minute he opened the kimchi, you ran to vomit. That coupled with the fact that you looked like you were glowing raised his suspicion. When you came back to the kitchen he said, “When was the last time you took a pregnancy test?”

You cocked your head to the side quizzicaly as he giggled, “I’m 99.9% sure that you’re pregnant. Pee on a stick just to be sure but… Yeah, congrats. I’m going to throw away everything that smells like kimchi while you check.”

He was there for all of it. Everything from staring at the test with you waiting for the verdict. He spun you around congratulating you. He helped hide the evidence. Helped plan, he was even there when you got the ultrasound, filming it for Chan so he didn’t feel like he was left out. In many ways Seungmin had a better tie to that child than anyone else aside from you. He imagined everything with you.

Ever since he saw I.N. storm out to kill Chan… he checked out emotionally. He couldn’t handle the pain. He couldn’t ignore it anymore when he heard your screams. He thought of all the names you’d send him to see if they’d sound good. If it was a boy, you were incessant on Seungmin. You wanted to name the baby after him because he had “noticed first.” But he got you to change it to Chanseung, meaning “lingering victory”. This whole time...Every scream you let loose he heard the baby’s heartbeat as the memories flashed in and out of his mind.

He remembered the times when he would come over just to clear the kitchen of anything that’d trigger your gag reflex. His Hyungs would get pissed at him because they even labeled the items with "do not touch”, but somehow, mysteriously, Seungmin didn’t see it and ate it all… whoops. He even got up at whatever time you called to pick up whatever you were craving. Another was when you went out for a walk with him and you were telling him about all of the new things you were noticing about your body.

But his favorites were whenever you and himself would be alone in the kitchen or on the couch while everyone was distracted he’d look down at your belly, he would glance around and go to your ear just to say “They have no clue… That there’s 10 people in this house.” He’d do that just to see you try to suppress the smile on your face.

He even had dreams of going to the hospital to meet the baby. The dream always started with the phone call. Changbin would be on the other line as he picked up, “the baby’s coming, they’re already at the hospital, see you there.” Then the dream would jump to Chris walking out, “Congratulations everyone, you have a beautiful and healthy nephew. Once Y/N is cleaned up, you guys can come back to meet Chanseung.” In every single one of those dreams Seungmin would cry happy tears. When he’d be taken back, he was met with the cutest bundle, eyes like yours, a head full of curly hair like Chan’s. Chan would hand the baby to Seungmin and Changbin would say “what about me?” And you’d say, “godparents always hold the baby first.” Seungmin would look around shocked as more tears fell from his eyes, he would look at you and say “really? Me?” You’d look at him nodding with tears of your own, “How could it be anyone else, you took such good care of us, Minnie. You’d do anything for him. Your the one I trust the most with him.” He looked down to the baby and whispered “Hello Chanseung, I’ve been waiting for so long to meet you. My name's Seungmin, I’m your godfather.” He cuddled with the baby as he cried tears of joy, nothing but love and gratitude in his heart. Now that’s all they’ll ever be… Just dreams.

While everyone else was mourning as a friend, a brother, an Uncle, he mourned like a father. He felt like he lost a child. It destroyed him, ripping him apart inside, making him reflexively grab his chest, the air abundant but still suffocating, leaving him no other choice but for his chest to collapse inward as the sobs escaped.

Minho noticed that your screams didn’t sound human, closer to a wounded animal. Minho looked at Chan’s face as you screamed for your baby. He could see that Chan was sad, but it didn’t seem like he was truly grasping it. It was only when Chan’s phone lit up, that Minho’s patience snapped. He saw the name “Soo BFF Y/N” light up the screen, and before Chan could do anything about it, he snatched the phone. Minho grabbed Chris by the back of his neck, his nails digging into the meat of it. Minho spoke with a lethal air as he spat, “Waiting room… NOW.”

They ducked into the waiting room down the hall. The rest of the boys followed suit, locking the door to the room as Minho answered the call and said nothing.

“Hey Baby, you haven’t been picking up, is everything okay? What happened after I left?” Her voice rang through the waiting room.

Minho looked to Chris, and nodded to the phone, Chris responded, “No. Everything isn’t okay. Y/N was pregnant.”

There was a beat or two and she said, “Was?” Then she said, “As in not currently? I guess that is a good thing right? Considering you were going to divorce her for me anyway. A baby would’ve made it messy, no?”

Everyone’s jaws dropped. Some looking for confirmation, that they indeed heard what they did.

Chris looked at the phone like it had offended him his jaw slack, “what the fuck did you say to me?!” His face showed more emotion than hearing his wife’s soul being torn to shreds about losing the baby, “My child is dead and your response is ‘at least it’s less messy now?!’ How fucking heartless are you?” he asked.

Minho couldn’t believe what he was hearing and seeing out of Chris. He just heard his wife scream that she wants to die, that she wants to no longer exist because his child is dead. Yet the thing that gets him offended, have any reaction at all was his sidepiece saying something. Taking the first opportunity to skirt over how this all even happened. Minho wasn’t going to let him get away that easily, he spoke up, “You really are a fucking coward, huh, Chris? You won’t even tell her how all of this happened?”

Chris just bowed his head as Minho continued, “She miscarried from the shock and trauma of seeing you and her husband fucking right in front of her on their 3rd anniversary. YOU and Chris killed that child,” Minho seethed into the phone. “You want to hear what is happening to your so-called best friend? What you call, less messy?”

Minho took the phone off of the speaker and stormed down the hall. His heart was hammering in his chest, hearing of what she said playing in his head on repeat. His pain clouded his generous nature. For once, Minho doesn’t want to protect someone. He wanted Soo to feel the pain that you feel. He wants her to hear your screams. To hear your soul fracturing, hear the blood as it falls from the stab wound in your heart. That knife that no one can take out. That permanent piercing is now festering. The piercing that she and Chan personally put into one of the nicest people he’s ever met. He wants her to hurt. Just the thought of hearing Soo cry, made him smile. He wants her to suffer, truly suffer, just like he wants Chan to suffer. A part of him hates that this is what he wants but the rest of him knows, this is justified. A righteous anger. A human reaction. Which Soo cannot be.

Minho stopped outside of the room and held the phone out for Soo to hear your screams. He could somewhat hear Soo gasping at what was happening. Minho turned on the video to show her what little he could see from the door, which was your form rocking with Bin gently holding you, trying to calm you. “Hold on to me and breathe for me,” He heard Bin talking to you, trying to get you to fight.

“Binnie, please, my baby.” Minho heard your voice trembling, seeing you clutch on to Bin’s forearm. Your voice was worse than haunting, Minho could hear you trying to will your baby back.

“All you need to do is breathe and hold on to me. I’ve got you, I’m here.”

“I can’t Binnie I can’t I need my baby! Pleassee help me!” Your voice nearly gone from all of the screaming taking place.

It filled Minho with rage. The person on the phone caused this, along with your husband. Here Bin was, trying to will you to stay, to hold on to him, not anyone else. That made Minho feel better, if anyone could put you back together, make you want to stay, it’s Bin.

After being there for a minute or two Han barreled by him, all Minho did was flash the phone at him and point to the waiting room and Han nodded. He was telling him that when he was done making sure you were okay, for him to come to the room they were currently occupying with no words.

The minute Minho went back to the waiting room, he turned the speaker on to hear Soo. There was no response, only fast breathing and sniffling.

Minho tried to be quiet as he said, “Did that sound clean to you, Soo? Did that look less messy? She almost died last night, almost bled out from a hemorrhage that you both caused. She just screamed that she just wanted to die already. So tell me, what part about any of this screams a clean break?!”

Soo was silent for a moment and she said, “I never meant to hurt her, Minho.”

Minho’s blood boiled as he said, “People don’t get into cars with the goal of causing an accident and killing someone, but it happens all the same. I am so happy that you called, actually. I wanted to say this to your face but this’ll have to do. I couldn’t do this last night because I’m a decent person who was worried about one of my best friends... But now that she is being helped I can tell you. You are a sad excuse of a human being, I truly mean that. It takes a certain level of desperation to take your best friend’s sloppy seconds. Even more desperate to actually believe that he’d leave Y/N for your sorry waste of an existence. ”

Chan prickled at that, cocking his head, “As a matter of fact, the sloppy seconds is glaring at me while I say this and I don’t fucking care, as soon as I am done with you on the phone I’ll deal with him. You both destroyed someone very close to my heart. A person who has done nothing to either of you and yet you do this.”

Han walks in as Minho is grilling Soo, he whispers something to Felix and Felix goes out of the room. Minho continued, “As if what you did wasn’t enough you have the audacity to say that it was a good thing that Y/N miscarried because it would make the divorce less messy.”

Han’s eyes bulged out of his head at hearing that. No wonder why Minho wanted him here. Han felt rage at those words. Calling the death of a child that was wanted, a good thing? Minho’s lip was tight as he calmly finished his say, “I hope you know what you’re wishing for when you say you want him to yourself. If he did this to his own wife, imagine what he’d do to you… A nothing, a speck compared to Y/N. I hope you can live with yourself, but at least you’re breathing, something Y/N’s child never even got to experience because of you and Chris. I hope you rot and I hope it’s painful. Above all else, I hope that you pay in full for what you’ve done.”

Minho looked around, “Anyone want to talk to IT?” he punctuated “it” as he stared at Chris, daring him to say something. Everyone was silent and he said, “I would say it’s been a pleasure speaking to you, but that would be a lie; the only pleasure I’ll ever have is seeing you suffer.” With that, he hung up and walked to Chan, shoving the phone into his chest.

Minho stared at Chan, “Now it’s your turn… What are you doing here? Were we not clear enough for you?! What part of ‘stay away’ did you not get? Or are you that fucking stupid. She was making progress, she was sleeping and you had to come in, didn’t you.” His eyes burned into Chris.

“I just wanted to see her.” Chris said.

Minho got tunnel vision as he bore into Chan,“I… I … I.. That is all that exists for you, huh? It’s all about you. What you want, when you want, who you want, where you want. YOU wanted to see her, you didn’t even think about her wellbeing did you?! Of course you didn’t! That’s why you came in here and played the husband card over and over again. You are nothing to her. NOTHING! It baffles me how Changbin isn’t even married to her yet he’s a better husband than you will ever be!” Minho’s body betrayed him as he started to shake, “YOU DIDN’T JUST KILL YOUR CHILD… YOU KILLED WHO WE THOUGHT YOU WERE. YOU KILLED EACH ONE OF US! MOST OF ALL YOU KILLED Y/N. THE FUN LOVING, HOPEFUL Y/N IS DEAD BECAUSE OF YOU! That alone is something I will never forgive you for.”

“I’m going to give you one chance to walk out of here willingly. If you don’t, I will tell the boys to go back to the room. Then I am going to lock you in here with me, and believe me when I say you won’t like what happens next. When I’m done with you, I’ll go right back to Y/N and act like nothing happened.”

His tone was too calm, too monotone, the sound sending chills down Han’s spine.

The pain that Minho is in is something that he never shows anyone. He doesn’t like to be vulnerable. He couldn’t help but look at Chris’ wedding ring and think that he should’ve done something, anything to stop him from marrying you. He told himself that it wasn’t his relationship. He even asked Changbin if he was actually going to let this happen. Changbin just looked at him and said, “Does it kill me? Yes. Do I want to be the groom instead of the groomsman? Absolutely. But she’s happy. What I want is nothing compared to seeing her happy.” Just that singular memory gave him enough fuel to do what he had to do. He made a promise to himself in that moment, he will never let Chris close enough to be able to hurt you again.

Chris didn’t make a move, Minho could see that he was shocked. Which only fueled his rage.

Han had to cut in, “Minho… she’s asking for you.” Minho's heart twisted again as he loomed over Chris.

Minho sucked his teeth, “Even after nearly killing her, killing her child, ruining her life… Even now she’s still saving you without even knowing it. You have your chance, if I were you, I’d take it.” Minho stormed out of the room.

With that, Han looked at the rest of the boys, “Make sure he leaves, he’s already banned from the room. You are all welcome to come back up since it was clear who caused her to spiral. She wants you all as well. She’s scared we’re worried or that we’ll leave her.”

Hyunjin looked at Han and said, “We’ll be there. Go to her.”

As soon as Han left the room he saw Minho duck into your room.

When Minho came in he heard you saying, “Where’s MinMin? I don’t know what happened, m’scared Binnie, where's MinMin and Hannie? Lixie did they leave me?” Minho knew that whenever you were scared, you started using pet names. They felt safe to you. With your MinMin, Binnie, Lixie, and Hannie around, you'd be safe. Your voice is low and quivering, fear and panic clear. It's ripping him apart, reminding him almost of a child. A child trying to not let on how scared they are. You were a lot like a child in that way, you were so hurt you didn’t know who to trust, but the minute you see people you are sure won’t hurt you, you start asking for the others, knowing you can trust them to say the truth. You also reminded Minho of someone trying to cry silently, the quake in your voice giving you away.

From Minho’s view, all that could be seen is Changbin, grabbing his sweatshirt and putting it on, hood up. It was your favorite hoodie that Binnie wears, full of different stitches and felt like a cloud. He made fleeting eye contact with Minho. Just in those few seconds he could see Bin’s eyes trying to focus on not collapsing, yet trying to get Minho to understand. Minho could only imagine that what happened minutes ago was something that he had seen last night. Since Bin knew to call out to Han to get the nurses. It made his heart twist yet again, he knows that Bin isn’t used to caring for people. But you aren’t just people. You are more than that, you always have been more than that. That’s why it’s second nature to him.

“Binnie I’m scared what happened, where are my boys? Did I do something wrong, did I scare them? Will you leave too?” You asked through sniffles. Minho could see the effect those words had on Bin as he pulled the hoodie back, he spared one last gaze and flitted it towards the bed as if to say, watch me. If you can’t do what I’m about to do, don’t come in. Then he changed his face completely before turning to you and walking out of Minho’s field of vision. That killed Minho too. How Bin knew instinctually to change his face, his gaze softening.

“What happened isn’t something you need to worry about. You didn’t do anything wrong and the boys aren’t scared. I’m not going anywhere, see I was just putting my hoodie on, its your favorite. You don’t need to be afraid. I’m here. So is Lixie.” Bin’s voice was soothing, calm, steady, eventhough Minho identified the cracks in his foundation with only two seconds looking into his eyes.

Felix added as he tried to calm you saying, “We aren’t going anywhere okay? We are just making sure you’re going to be comfortable. MinMin’s coming and so is Hannie, Okay?”

Minho put on a smile, “I’m here”, hiding his pain for now. Your eyes were darting as you looked at him. Tearstains still painting your cheeks, fresh ones about to fall. You looked so dazed and confused as you looked around the room like you haven't been in it before.

You smiled at Minho, “MinMin…” more tears fell as you gaze fell on Minho’s eyes, “You didn’t leave? Binnie, Lixie, and Hannie said so but… m’scared… I don’t remember what happened,”

Minho wanted to curl you into a ball and shelter you, make sure no one could sneak up on you, that Chris couldn’t get his hands on you again, spew more poison all over this healing space, your personal space. He wanted to tuck you in and stand watch, everything in him drove him to shield and protect you. He couldn’t show that though. He couldn’t call attention to what just happened. It could upset the balance that you are in. Instead he decided on another approach.

“Binnie was right, Beautiful. What happened isn’t important right now. What matters is that we are here with you, we’re going to keep you safe, okay?” Minho reached out and dried your tears with the sleeve of his shirt.

The nurse was just finishing giving you medicine, “What’d they give you? Something good?” Minho smiled warmly. He looked to the nurse who said, “Yes, she’ll be able to sleep no doubt. We’re also giving her medicine every six hours for the anxiety,” she smiled. That made Minho smile wide. He couldn’t help but be relieved for you. You are finally getting the medicine you need.

Minho looked at her and said, “Thank you so much, for taking care of her and coming so quickly.”

She just nodded and turned the lights off.

You yawned and started tearing up a little as you reached for Bin, “Don’t leave, Binnie…Lixie.” Felix was right at your hand as he said, “M’right here, it’s going to be okay. MinMin, Bin, all of us are here to make sure you’ll be okay.” Felix could see your shoulders slowly drooping as the medicine hit you. It was clear that the medicine was making you sleepy. That made everyone smile. You have had nothing but panic, havoc, and destruction. You deserved rest.

You looked at Minho and said, “I’m tired but I want my boys. You’ll wake me when they come back MinMin?”

Minho nodded and said, “Of course, Beautiful.”

You nodded then looked to Bin, “Binnie, I’m tired, if I sleep you’ll stay with me? I don’t want to ask too much, but can I have cuddles while I sleep?” Everyone in the room could tell that you were looking for constant reassurance. You just got out of a bad PTSD flashback, triggered by the man that caused the trauma, all on top of getting no sleep. Han walked in after making sure that Chris couldn’t make it back into the room, only walking in after he was sure Chris was in the elevator and clear of the area.

When Changbin heard you calling out to him, saying you’re scared he just wanted to hold and protect you. He successfully coaxed you out of the flashback. His whole being broke when you came out of it so disoriented. The first things you asked Bin was, “Why did he do that? Why did they do that I don’t know why? What happened?” Then immediately after, “I’m scared.” He didn’t know what to say to that first half. It’s inconceivable how anyone could cheat on anyone, especially someone like you. Trying to answer that question would only prove to be more frustrating for you than anything. Apparently the shock was written on Bin’s face as the nurse explained.

The nurses gently talked to Bin about what he was seeing, he’s never seen you like this and they explained that when someone comes out of a flashback episode, they are very confused. Sometimes they don’t know where they are or what happened. He learned that it was necessary to be very calm in repeating yourself, and ensuring the person coming out of it that everything is going to be okay and that they are safe. The nurse that was in the room with you was the one who coached Bin through the worse of it. He just had to keep pushing, to make you feel safe. He himself was also on the brink of collapse. The wall he made in his mind, to hold all the emotions inside around you, started failing long ago. More rubble falling by the minute.

Bin was trying to be as strong as he could be as he got into the bed with you, pulling you to him, and petting your hair back, “Of course we can cuddle. I am not going anywhere okay? I wouldn’t dream of it. Just take deep breaths. Let the medicine work, Angel.” He looked at you, so small, sweaty, tired, fragile. Felix immediately started tucking you in. Taking time to ensure sealing all of the edges of your body to stay nice and warm. Then he moved your hand to cuddle Bin, knowing that you’d want it there. He resumed his place at your back, he re-tied your gown that was coming loose, then slowly rubbing circles on your back, trying to soothe you. Bin tried to figure out how Chris could hurt someone so precious to him, to all of them. He couldn’t wrap his brain around it. Like that, more bricks fell from the wall.

“M’safe?” You asked Bin, eyes still brimming with unshed tears as you looked up at him. As soon as they were knocked free he used his thumb to wipe them away.

With me…“Always. No one is going to hurt you.” Not while I’m here. He brushed your cheekbone, you head leaning into his touch reflexively. More of the wall crashed to the ground. He gently guided your head down to his chest.

Even though you were being forcibly calmed by the medicine, he could see it. Your eyebrows were tense, still a quiver in your lip. The worst was the shaking. As he held you he could feel the tremble in your entire body. Your hands shook as you held on to his hoodie, rubbing the pattern to calm yourself.

After a few minutes passed, the boys went to come back in, but Han stopped them, just to explain to them what happened. He also gave them the rundown of how to talk to you and redirect and reassure you, that way you can rest.

“She doesn’t look like herself right now, that’s because she is still in a very fragile mental state, she’s going to repeat herself, she’s going to say she’s scared, a lot of things that will make you want to break. You cannot break in front of her. That can make her worse. If you need I can guide you through it. Just stay close to me, okay?”All of the boys nodded and went in. Minho let you know.

“Minnie, you here?” You asked.

“Yes I am, Birdie.” Seungmin said as he walked into your field of vision getting down to your level, “Getting sleepy, Birdie?” You nodded as tears started to spring to your eyes.

Seungmin’s nickname for you is Birdie. When you started hanging out with him more, he noticed something. Whenever you had a song stuck in your head, you would sing it on repeat. Your voice was always very soft, shy, melodic. It reminded him of the morning birds, so one day he called you Birdie and you smiled ear to ear. No one heard him call you that until now, since Seungmin is more an observer than a talker.

“If I sleep, you won’t go anywhere? I’m scared you’ll leave and I won’t see you again.” your tears fell as you looked directly into Seungmin’s eyes.

Seungmin whispered, “Oh my sweet Birdie,” as he kissed your forehead trying not to cry, drying your tears immediately, “You don’t need to be scared, I’m not going anywhere without you. You will always have me, okay? Right now all you need to do is rest, okay Birdie?”

You nodded then said, “Jinnie and Innie too? They’re here too?”

“Mhm, everyone’s here, Birdie.” Seungmin is doing his best to see you relax, lightly petting your hair, “So just close your eyes for me, let yourself rest, we’re here.” As if on command you slowly closed your eyes. What he doesn’t know is Innah is trying not to cry. Seeing the interaction cracking him open again.

Your breathing started calming and as Bin felt your body relax into him, your grip completely loosening. Seungmin didn’t stop petting your hair until he was sure you were out. Only then, did he go to IN’s side, where IN’s tears soaked into his shirt.

Bin played with your hand for a few seconds, seeing how delicate they are as well as gauging how asleep you are. Seeing no reaction from you he draped his hand over yours as he heard a ghost of mere minutes ago, ‘Please just let me die. Let me go.’ The wall collapsed and he started crying. Trying not to shake you at all as he kissed the crown of your head.

“No one’s going to hurt you, I promise. I got you. You’re going to be okay. You have to be.” Bin didn’t care who saw him. He felt so helpless, his soul is breaking for you as he cradled you. He can’t help but think that it’s all his fault. How could it not be? He didn’t follow his gut, he didn’t make the move, and now you’re suffering because of it. He kissed your hairline as he did his best to stop the pain in his chest, worried that you’d hear his heart breaking.

Minho watched as tears fell down his face. Seeing you like this and Bin, the one who gave up his own happiness… Handed his heart over to another man, only to see his heart used and abused. He could feel the pain radiating off of Bin. Minho heard a sniffle and looked to Seungmin. Seungmin always had a placid smile to his face, all Minho found was a quivering lip, tears falling, as he watched Bin.

Seungmin was seeing how perfect you are together, like he always saw, and seeing how broken you both are, yet you are both so strong together. That made Seungmin cry. Even though both of you are in agony right now, torn to shreds, you still clung to eachother, making a silent pact to make it together.

“You can’t leave me here…” He leaned back to see you. Another specter paid a visit, ‘Binnie it hurts. Help me pleaseee’. He felt his chest caving in at the memory. He willed himself to breathe normally, each pull of air burning his lungs, the muscles wanting to constrict. He cradled your head, trying to keep you as close to his heart as possible, “I need you, My Angel.” Bin felt Felix’s hand wrap around his shoulders, much like Bin would do for Lix when he cried.

Bin couldn’t imagine a world without you in it. A life without you. He knows the pain alone would kill him, kill all the boys. Your love, friendship, and loyalty is second to none. You are just that way. That beautiful, that kind, that irreplaceable. That is what makes Bin distraught, the thought of no you in the world… even finishing that sentence is unimaginable.

Han looked up at Bin, trying to will himself not to cry. The both of you are so sweet, so kind. He could see the weight on Bin’s shoulders, crushing him. He could see it in his head, Bin keeping everything bad from crashing on top of you, his arms outstretched, using his whole body as a shield. Han knew that if it meant keeping you safe, Bin would carry the world. That’s what separated Bin from Chris.

Both may be fond of you. Only one has ever put your safety over everything. Only one ever made you feel heard and seen. Only one ever made you laugh until you cried. Only one would take off work to take care of you when you’re sick. Only one made you understand that there is no priority above you. Only one would calm you with just a touch. Only one truly loves you with their heart and soul. That “only one” was in the bed with you right now.

Han watched, eventually just letting the tears fall as Bin held you saying, “I’m sorry I didn’t protect you, I’m sorry. I love you… I’m so sorry. Don’t leave me.”

That was the first time Changbin had ever let himself say it out loud, “I love you so much it hurts…I Can’t Lose You.”

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somecunttookmyurl · 7 days

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Hey, you recently mentioned somewhere about how growing pains aren't really a thing the way we think of them in the tags about a post about taking kids' pain seriously. And i've been sitting on that ever since, as someone who had severe 'growing pains' growing up that'd take me out for days but was told to stick it out. Thing is, they never went away and despite hitting 30 soon I regularly google something like 'growing pain in 20s' with some regularity.

I've finally bit the bullet, done the doctor marathon, ended up at a rheumathologist and was like 'idk i've had pain my entire life i was told it was normal'. (Didn't go over well, but how could it have.) Despite him then noting hypermobility he's adamant hsd or heds aren't worth looking into. And now i'm sat here like. Well, was it ever growing pains?

Could you talk more about what you meant with the growing pains? My mind is not letting it go

'growing pains' is something doctors say to dismiss pain in teens and children a lot.

the fact is, yes, some children get pains that are temporary and ultimately harmless and not at all related to growing in fact we don't know why it happens

the other fact is it tends to be limited to the ages of approximately 3 to 11, yet doctors use it to dismiss pain in teenagers - who still do a lot of growing often very quickly (especially boys).

it affects mostly if not exclusively the legs (notably calves and shins) and worsens following physical activity. yet doctors will often use it to handwave away any and all musculoskeletal pain

so yes there is a type of pain children (but not really teens) can experience in their lower legs. but not a) the rest of the body b) long-lasting c) bad all the time and d) it has nothing to do with actually growing

and frankly given we "don't know" why it happens at all i'd bet decent money there actually is a cause for whatever pain happened even if it was temporary. like doing the three-legged race wrong.

edit: sorry skipped over the hypermobile part. for some people (i hate them personally) hypermobility is not painful. for most people it IS. this is for the simple fact that your ligaments and tendons (connective tissue) are too stretchy so they aren't holding your joints in place as well as they should. so you know what has to pick up your slack? your larger muscles. you know what is built for movement and not 24-7 activation to keep you assembled? your muscles. they're doing something they're not supposed to have to do, and they're doing it all the time and they are fucking tired. unfortunately (i have hypermobile EDS and didnt get diagnosed until i was 28) there is no "cure" for this. the only treatments are stabilisation - physical therapy to try and build up the smaller stabilising muscles and support garments or things like k-tape to take the load off the bigger muscles by providing external support. also massage and heat to relieve the tension and tiredness.

#that's what i mean by 'growing' 'pains' aren't really a thing #they certainly weren't why i could barely walk at the age of 16 having not grown a single fucking milimetre since the age of 13 #and they aren't why your back hurts. and they aren't why your shoulders hurt

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huramuna · 5 months

Text

wine red, tears gold - chapter 1.

king aegon II x baratheon ofc

a 'what if aegon didn't get poisoned and the greens technically won the dance but at what cost' au. basically aegon, alicent, otto and jaehaera are the only greens alive. and larys i guess. someone get rid of this guy.

word count: 4.6k

aegon wasn't as badly injured from Rook's Rest like in canon in this AU, he has a few burn scars near his torso but wasn't crippled / bedridden.

this is for my 100 followers poll. it was supposed to be a oneshot but will be a mini series in 3 or 4 parts. this is my first time writing aegon and it will also be somewhat of a character study.

thank you for 100 followers and everyone who participated in the poll. love <3 thank you @randomdragonfires for beta reading, mwah mwah.

content: smut (specifics below cut), canon typical misogyny, canon typical violence, angst, fluff, arranged marriage, touch-staved aegon, aegon isn't a r*pist in this au but he is still a bad person and has his vices, ofc and aegon need to go to therapy together, justice for jaehaera, awkward sex, kind of a slow burn

its been so long - the living tombstone • nobody - mitski

chapter specific warnings: awkward sex, p in v, virginity loss

Every day felt like a new restraint, a new button added to the collar choking around Aegon’s neck. He had done it– he had freed the realm of the false queen, his half-sister– and lost almost everything to do so. When did it end? When did he get to relax and run the realm as he saw fit, since they so intended to have them at the helm. He wore the conqueror’s crown, wielded his sword and bore his name and yet he couldn’t do as the conqueror actually did. Rule. He felt more like a dog than a dragon these days; but that was just a pattern in his life. They wanted him when they needed him and he was to shoulder their burdens as eldest son.

His grandsire kept breathing down his neck to secure another wife, another heir, another alliance brokered with another pompous house.

“Listen to me, Aegon,” Otto began, his fingers laced together as he sat at his desk. He had summoned Aegon to the Tower of the Hand– he was summoning the King, rather than the King summoning him. Somehow, his council had let Otto weasel his way back into the position of Hand, Aegon’s mother in tears, pleading for it. There wasn’t anyone else fit for the job since Criston had died– and he was never really fit for it anyhow. “We must move quickly to provide you with a new wife. The realm won’t remain stable if we tarry in producing an heir for the throne.”

Aegon sat in the seat across from him, feeling more like a child than a King. He twisted the signet ring on his pinky finger. “It’s too soon. It would be an insult to Helaena.” he replied, not looking up at Otto. Helaena had only passed a few moons earlier and the wound was still fresh for all of them. Aegon never loved her like a wife– how could he, they were too different, too young– but he cared deeply for her as his sister and the mother of his children. Even thinking about taking another wife this soon felt like a betrayal. He would be like his father then.

A small huff and a rustling of papers was heard– Aegon was still too distracted by his signet ring, the thin light filtering through the half drawn blinds, causing a small glint off of the bronzed metal. He didn’t want to look up to see the expression on his grandsire’s face, he knew it was one of disappointment. Aegon couldn’t remember the last time that someone hadn’t looked at him with contempt, disappointment, melancholy.

“You must understand. You have a duty to the realm–”

“Fucking duty– don’t speak to me of it. I’ve done my duty for enough lifetimes. I let you put me on the throne and usurp my sister and look where that’s gotten us? Everyone is fucking dead, Otto. Jaehaerys, Maelor, Helaena, Aemond,” he paused for a moment, lifting his head up to meet the Hand’s gaze head on, “Rhaenyra, Rhaenys, Jacaerys, Lucerys, Joffrey– do I need to proceed? The majority of our bloodline is wiped out because of you and your ambition.”

Otto snorted, standing up from his desk slowly. He grabbed a decanter of wine, pouring them both a goblet. “You misunderstand. Everything I’ve done has been… for our family’s legacy– for the realm,” he placed the glass stopped back into the carafe, “Don’t you dare act as if I am not hurting for the loss of family– but war is war, boy. People die. It is unfortunate that… the ones close to us did. But we can’t live with our head in the clouds any longer, there is a realm to run and the crown comes with responsibilities. A wife and heir are one of those paramount responsibilities.”

“I have an heir. I still have one remaining child– Jaehaera is my heir. I deem it.” he spoke quickly, staring at the goblet of wine. He had reduced his intake of alcohol since the war ended– but the need for it was always there, always aching. He suddenly felt parched. Giving Otto a haughty stare, he took a sip from the glass, feeling his muscles instantly relax.

“Don’t be daft– have you so quickly forgotten what happened when the King last named a female heir?”

“It wasn’t that Rhaenyra was a woman, Otto. People would’ve learned to adjust if…” Aegon took another sip, clearing his throat, “If she hadn’t been infatuated with her freak of an uncle, you would’ve been able to control her easier, hm? It's always been you and mother behind the crown these past two decades– not me, nor my father.”

“It’s more complicated than that,” Otto griped back, gripping his glass, “Don’t speak of things you know nothing about. Rhaenyra–” he stopped, taking a breath, “Rhaenyra is dead. They’re all dead, you’re right. But there is still the whole of the Seven Kingdoms requiring a leader, especially now. A leader with a united front with a queen and babe. I won’t argue further on this matter.”

Aegon acquiesced. He would rather deal with Otto’s venomous viper tongue talking him into things he didn’t want to do now instead of his mother visiting him hours later in hysterics– he couldn’t bear it. Alicent was more of a mess now than ever. “Fine. I leave this in your very capable hands,” he stood up, swiping the whole jug of wine, “At least find me a pretty one.”

–

She was plain, unbelievably plain. Long, curled brown hair desperately in need of a trim, a poorly tailored dress that needed to be more fitted at the waist, stature too small and unremarkable to stand up to anyone of importance. Oh, and picked cuticles, the spots of red eking out from her nail beds. Mayhaps she and his mother would get along just jolly, then. She was to be his prospective wife and bear him more heirs. He wanted to shove it back in the council’s face and say he has an heir, his only living child, Jaehaera. Melancholy and withdrawn as she was, she was his heir.

The council disagreed, allowing Borros Baratheon to shove his last unwed daughter at him like a piece of meat that no one wanted.

Her eyes wafted up to glance at him, every move of hers uncertain, cautious. She was so deathly aware of each minute gesture, her posture having to be adjusted to straighten every few minutes.

Lyanna Baratheon wasn’t of prominent knowledge and reputation like her sisters, aptly named ‘the Four Storms’ – she didn’t remind Aegon at all of a stag or a doe, but rather something more diminutive and easily killed, like a prey animal. Mayhaps a rabbit– it would be an apt description, as she had giant eyes, brown –almost black– in their hue, a shiny glaze over them as she stared at the ground. Every so often, their eyes would meet, brown to violet, and she would look apt as Aegon thought she was.

A rabbit begging for its life.

Borros Baratheon stood beside her, murmuring something into her ear. He was a boorish oaf of a man who couldn’t even read– Aegon wasn’t the brightest star in the sky when it came to matters of literature, that’d always been his brother’s realm, but atleast he could fucking read. He thought it quite hysterical that his house sigil was that of a Stag when Lord Borros reminded him more of a boar. Mayhaps he should change it.

As he continued to whisper to his daughter, her expression went from sordid to panicked, then back to sordid. She wasn’t very good at masking her emotions– she would need to learn if she were to survive at the Keep. The tips of her fingers twitched slightly and she was obviously holding herself back from tearing into her nail beds.

“Lord Borros,” Aegon broke the tension, “Perhaps I should show your daughter around the gardens while you speak with my grandsire. We have the most beautiful gardens here and I’d imagine that Storm’s End wouldn’t have something quite as grand,” he glazed over Borros’ blank stare, “due to the storms, of course.”

Lord Baratheon adjusted his doublet, which was far too small for him— did the Stormlands not have a proper fucking tailor? — and nodded, “Yes, that would be amicable. It would do some good to familiarize yourself with one another before the wedding in a week’s time.”

Aegon’s throat felt parched. He knew that they were speeding things along but he didn’t anticipate it to be this fast. Grabbing a bottle of wine from a nearby servant, he descended back to Lyanna, intent on whisking her away as quickly as possible. Not because he found her particularly interesting, rather the opposite, but he needed an excuse to get out of the room. The insistent thrum of his pulse in his neck was all too loud. His arm looped under Lyanna’s, “Come, my lady,” he hummed, trying to seem like he was somewhat collected and kingly and not on the edge of chugging the entire carafe of wine and smashing it over the next poor fucker’s head. “To the gardens.”

He practically strung along the poor girl, who hurriedly agreed and tried her best to keep up. “Y-yes, your grace,” she mewled, her feet tapping on the ground at irregular rhythms as she hung onto Aegon’s arm, bouncing against the stone walkway toward the gardens, “King’s Landing is… very beautiful, my king– your subject must be very pleased.”

As they descended the cobbled steps down to the garden, Aegon eyed her warily, “Did your father tell you to say that?”

“N-no, not exactly–”

“He did. Anyone with half of a brain and a working nose knows that this accursed city smells of shit. You shouldn’t lie, my lady. You’re quite bad at it,” he took a small breath as he looked at her expression– the poor thing was on the verge of tears. “You will get better in time,” he continued with a slightly softer tone, “This Keep is full of great liars and you don’t seem… too much like your father. I am sure you will pick up quickly. How old are you?”

“Nineteen, your grace.”

Aegon resisted giving a derisive snort, instead uncorking the wine bottle and tossing the stopper into the grass, “You’re quite young, then,” he took a swig, feeling the bitter tasting liquid coat his mouth, “All the better for heirs. Or so I’m sure that we’ve both been told.”

In truth, some would consider her a bit late in age to be married– but Aegon didn’t care as long as he wasn’t robbing the cradle like his father did to his mother, or Daemon to Rhaenyra. He was twenty-six himself and tried to remember what he was like when he was nineteen; he couldn’t exactly pinpoint an exact memory. It was mostly a blur.

“I am… hopeful to provide you with many healthy heirs, my king,” she replied, her words sounding rehearsed. She is as poor of an actress as she is a liar, then. She paused for a moment, looking at her hands, “I… do not wish to replace the late queen, her grace, Helaena– I merely wish to fulfill my duty to the realm and my family– I am terribly… sorry to hear about Helaena, my king. As well as your prince brothers. War is a terrible thing.”

Aegon blinked profusely a few times. Her words after her pause sounded genuine– mayhaps she is capable of thinking for herself. She seemed… softhearted, even if a bit naive. He regarded the bottle in his hand for a moment, swishing it around. No one had really apologized to him for his losses– the enumerable amount of them he’s gone through these past few years. They all bowed their heads and wouldn’t meet his gaze, as if their blood was all on his hands. Mayhaps it was. He swallowed, his mouth pursed in a thin line, “... War is indeed a terrible thing, my lady.”

They walked for a few hours around the garden, talking about various things. Aegon still found her quite boring and uninteresting to look at– she wasn’t ugly by any means, and could be considered pretty, but she was just so terribly plain that it bored him to tears. Her speech was all faux and he tried to eek out any genuineness to her words through different subjects– all to no avail. It seemed the sore subject of Aegon’s family was the only thing to break her from her carefully crafted script.

Eventually, they parted ways– for the better, he thought. She was a fine match, a fine age, a fine vessel for his seed to produce a royal heir and whatever other innocuous thing his grandsire needed from him.

What a terribly dreadful life he’s let himself sink into.

That night, he drained two bottles of Dornish Red, falling much into the same state of mind he had when he was nineteen. Wandering to the Street of Silk, he whored and drank himself into a state of sloven mania.

In the midst of his drunken ramblings, he wondered if he could ever find someone who would truly love him or if his opportunity had already passed.

–

The wedding followed in the timeline that Borros and Otto had set– as quickly as possible. The council dipped into the coffers to make it happen, it was to be an extravagant event, a new beginning for the realm. Artisans, fine bakers and cooks were all hired to make the wedding a facet, stringing up red, green, yellow and black banners, making dozens of delicate pastries and even cooking six turduckens to line the tables.

It was all lavish and opulent– and Lyanna could not feel more out of place. The past week at the Keep had been a whirlwind of planning, gown fittings, flower picking. Her sisters were there in attendance, speaking up more than she on what to pick. It was fine with her, as she couldn’t bring herself to care for it. The gaudiness of it all made her feel ill.

She had only met with Aegon the one time, the first time. Lyanna felt she made a terrible impression— she was so nervous that day that she’d vomited twice that morning, all while her father screamed at her to get it right, to say exactly as he told her to. For the most part, she had done just that— played the perfect little puppet for him and said all those empty words that meant nothing.

She was meant to see Aegon at least three more times before the wedding, as there were a few dinners arranged between their two families. He had been absent for all, his mother citing that he was unable to attend for various reasons but nothing overtly specific.

Alicent Hightower was a nice lady— she was warm to Lyanna, talking to her at the dinners when no one else had bothered. She was the person who Lyanna felt most comfortable with in the Keep and was grateful that she was to be her good-mother. Alicent was a bit frayed at the ends from the loss of her other children; she was haunted, her eyes constantly red-rimmed and murmuring prayers under her breath.

The morning of the wedding, Lyanna was summoned to Alicent’s solar to get ready.

She knocked on the door, “Your grace— it’s Lyanna.”

“Come in, my dear,” she called out, a maid opening the door to let her in. “How are you feeling this morn?” Alicent was perched on the settee when Lyanna came in, and immediately rushed over to her, taking the young girl’s hands in hers.

“Quite nervous,” Lyanna responded, her hands quivering ever so slightly, even under the warm touch of Alicent. “May I speak plainly, your grace?”

“Of course,” she ushered Lyanna to the loveseat and had the maid pour them both tea, then promptly shooed her out. “It’s just us now, speak your mind, sweetling.”

“I-I am afraid that… Aegon will not like me. I fear I didn’t make a good first impression— he seemed quite bored of me.”

Alicent took a sip of her tea, giving a small sigh. “I will do you the favor of not sugarcoating words and speak plainly like you have done with me. Aegon will not like you,” she pursed her lips into a thin line, twisting the signet ring on her finger, “Aegon is a creature of debauchery and sin— and you are a good, pious girl. You are like oil and water.” her brown eyes met Lyanna’s, her expression softening. The two women had a fast camaraderie, praying together each morning in the Sept. “You… may not love him, or even like him— but there is a duty upon you to fulfill. It is a burden we carry as women, my dear. We are always behest to the men in our lives,” she stopped, her eyes glazing over with a far-away look, “I don’t mean to be discouraging. You are a… good hearted young woman and I believe you can channel that into something positive as the Queen.”

Lyanna felt her stomach quivering at Alicent’s words, her skin flushing. “I… appreciate your plain speech, your grace. I just… do not wish to displease him.”

Alicent’s mouth twitched at each end as if she were mulling something over. “It will be hard to please him, my dear. You are nothing like the women that usually please him,” she wiped a hand down her face, “You remind me so much of myself, Lyanna. Pushed into something you are… ill-suited for. You’re a sweet and kindhearted girl and I don’t wish for you to tear yourself apart on the inside and feel as if you’re not good enough for him– you are, you are too good for him, too pure, too-” Alicent took a measured breath, “You are not what he wants and you never will be, my dear. It will do you well to know that now rather than years later. There is always someone else in their eyes– women like you and I do what we can. I pray you will find things that keep you happy.”

Lyanna picked up her tea cup with trembling hands, taking a sip. There seemed to be more to Alicent’s words than them just being about Aegon– but she didn’t want to push it. Dipping her head, she thanked her good-mother-to-be once more.

–

“Wake up, wake up!” a voice boomed, rousing Aegon from his haze as a carafe of cold water was poured on him. The girl latched to his cock like a leech let out a shrill scream and scrambled away.

“Fucking hell– who the fuck?” Aegon slurred, blinking profusely half a dozen times before his vision came into focus. It was one of the Kingsguard, one more behest to his grandsire than him– and his grandsire, Otto, who had the now empty container of water in hand.

“Wake up, you ingrate,” Otto growled, grabbing his grandson by his collar, hoisting him up onto his feet, smacking his cheek gently. “Your wedding is in two hours and you’re passed out in a whorehouse. You’re the king, for the Seven’s sake– I thought you left this debauchery behind, atleast have your whores at the keep instead of being in these pits of sin.”

“You can put a number of different hats on a bear, you know,” Aegon slumped against the wall, “Many kinds of hats; a hood, a felted dante, a linen coif, a cowl, a straw hat, a jester’s garb– heh, that’d be quite funny–”

“Is there a point to your drunken babbling, Aegon?”

“Yes, ah– you can put many types of hats on a bear and change its look but at the end of the day, its still just a fucking bear,” he straightened out his stained tunic, “Point being– you can stick a crown on my head, put a sword in my hand and put me through a war to keep me on that fucking throne but guess what, grandsire, I am still just a bear at the end of the day.”

Otto stared at him, brow furrowed. “You aren’t a bear, you’re a dragon and a king, so act like it. You are getting married in two hours and you look like a sloven mess. You’re lucky that Borros is as blind for power and recognition as he is or he would take his daughter back to Storm’s End and you’ll be stuck with the next best choice.”

“That boring rube of a girl was my best choice? I must be fucked, then, either way.”

Otto and his Kingsguard dog dragged Aegon back to the keep, and observed while maids scrubbed him clean, red and raw. He was put in a nicely fit green suit, his House cloak strapped to his shoulders. It was a whirlwind of events that led up to the doors of the Sept being opened and Aegon ushered in.

His stomach churned and he felt sixteen again, forced to wed his sister. He remembered being hardly conscious throughout the ceremony, fumbling over his cloak and practically smothering Helaena in it.

He looked down the aisle at Lyanna, who was dressed in a pale yellow dress with long, flowing sleeves. She had a high collar with black lining and antler embroidery all over the garment. It was actually well fitted this time, likely thanks to his mother, and it turned out she actually had a figure, with plush hips and a well-endowed chest. Her brown hair was half up, half down with an assortment of intricate braids– it reminded him of how Rhaenyra used to wear her hair and he wondered who thought to style it like that, and he wondered if he was the only one who noticed.

As he walked down the aisle, he saw his mother in the front row– she was crying, thumbing a pendant in the shape of a Seven Pointed Star.

The ceremony was a blur to him, as he put the cloak over her shoulders and sealed their union with a kiss– a chaste one. She tasted like lavender tea. As he pulled back, he noticed that her eyes were rimmed with tears, and he felt the familiar sting of tears in his own eyes.

The feast was much the same, as he drank himself into a numbing stupor. He only had one moment of clarity, as some of the rowdy guests began to poke and prod at Lyanna, talking about the bedding ceremony. She looked visibly uncomfortable, picking at her nail beds under the table. Something about the sight of her discomfort and pain stirred something in Aegon that he couldn’t name– maybe he was feeling sentimental from the alcohol, but a surge of possessiveness flowed through him. He wasn’t known to be possessive, much the opposite in fact. But the egregious actions of these men pawing at his wife– their fucking queen, mind them– making disgusting insinuations. If she were a whore, it’d be different– but she was so… innocent, so coerced in all of this just as he was, it felt wrong.

Aegon snapped, slamming his cup down, “There won’t be any fucking bedding ceremony,” he growled, “My wife and I will be retiring to our chambers– alone. And if… any one of you lays another paw on her, you will lose it.”

Lyanna stared at Aegon, those huge brown eyes wide. Her lips were parted slightly as he once again strung her along the halls to his– no, their– chambers. She was shaking.

Once in their chambers, he let go of her, uncorking another bottle of wine and taking a swig. “I presume you think that this is where I will fuck you, hm? Stick my prick in you and make an heir and we will all live happily ever after like a child’s storybook.”

Lyanna stared down at her feet. “It… it would be… the duty of husband and wife to consummate–”

“Fuck duty! I’m not going to fuck some weepy eyed maiden because my old fuck grandsire said so. I don’t have need of you in that way.”

Her hands were trembling as she unlaced the back of her dress, her movements autonomous– she was doing what she thought she should be doing in this situation. She began to undress, slipping her gown off and leaving her in her silken shift, which didn’t leave much to the imagination. The sight of her body, soft, stirred something within him for a moment, like a spark trying to ignite kindling.

“We don’t have to do this, Lyanna,” he murmured, using her name for the first time. He put down the wine bottle. “We can wait.”

“N-no! Please, I want to– please,” Lyanna whispered, practically pleading for it, as if she wanted to get it over with. “Please.”

Aegon rubbed a hand down his face. “Get on the bed then. Lie on your stomach.”

She did as she was told, laying flat on the bed on her stomach. She clutched some pillows as a lifeline.

He knew he should warm her up, he knew that they should want to touch one another, he should want to see her face– but he didn’t. He couldn’t bear to look at her face, or touch her for longer than was necessary. He barely shimmied down his trousers before he began poking at her entrance with a half-hard cock, partially trying to give her a moment to get used to the sensations, and partially trying to find where he was supposed to stick it– he knew, of course, he’d fucked his way through King’s Landing and then some, but he hadn’t fucked many maidens, and especially not when he was blind drunk.

Eventually, he hit home and slid into her, his movements slow at first. He could hear her whimpers and knew they weren’t of pleasure. It reminded him of his wedding night with Helaena where they’d both cried– all the memories of that night came flooding back, causing him to falter.

Lyanna looked back at him, her eyes puffy and red, “I-Is it over?”

Aegon swallowed sharply, cringing as he stared at her. The moment of arousal he had– purely from stimulation alone– was gone now, his half-hard erection deflating completely. “Fuck– yes, it’s over.” he didn’t have the heart to tell her that it in fact had hardly started before it was over– and not in the good way. He pulled out of her, taking in a deep breath as he walked to the water basin and soaked a cloth with warm water, offering it to her. “Wipe yourself– it will help with the… pain… and blood.”

She took the cloth, wiping away the remnants of their half-fulfilled consummation. “I-I’m… sorry,” Lyanna whispered, sniffling, “I know I am not what you want.”

His mouth was pulled into a thin line as he turned away. “You’re right. You aren’t.”

They fell into bed next to each other and Aegon’s mind was swimming as he tried to sleep. He didn’t know what he wanted. He never wanted any of this– he just wanted to be a kid again with no responsibilities, with all of his siblings, even Rhaenyra– he would’ve… he would’ve been nicer to all of them, he wouldn’t of picked on Aemond, he would’ve gotten to know Rhaenyra better, he would’ve played with Helaena’s bugs, he would’ve taught Daeron all of the secrets of the castle. He would’ve told his grandsire to fuck off when they were to crown him and had Sunfyre char him to a crisp and given the crown to Rhaenyra.

He would’ve been loved then.

He just wanted to be loved.

#aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii targaryen fanfic #aegon ii targaryen fanfiction #aegon ii targaryen smut #aegon ii targaryen angst #aegon ii targaryen fluff #aegon ii x reader #aegon ii #aemond targaryen #hotd #house of the dragon #my writing #wine red tears gold

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musingsofalovelymillenial · 3 months

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Non and Kru Keng!

Dead Friend Forever Ep 7 - extended opinion ( long-ish post)

Trigger Warnings : Sexual abuse, sexual coercion, grooming, etc.

Since episode 7 aired I have been appalled at the number of posts I have seen regarding Non and Keng and Non’s behavior. Before I dive into ( and yes this is me letting out my anger regarding things I have seen) I want to provide some background that is also a basis for my personal opinion. I also want to state that while I truly believe everyone is titled to their own opinion there are certain things that are wrong and should not be romanticized/glossed over.

My professional background is in psychology, social work and human service ( dealing with abuse and domestic violence)

My personal background also makes what is happening to Non even harder to watch. Episodes 5, 6 and 7 took me a while to get through and resulted honestly in needing to detach for a while. I grew up attending middle school and high school in an area where most of the students attending my schools were wealthy. During that time I and my friends experienced severe bullying for being poor and for not living the way everyone else did. For context we lived 20 minutes away from our school where almost everyone lived surrounding the school and we lived in a trailer park and even though our bus was overcrowded all the trailer park children rode one bus. We as a group were constantly in trouble even when we did nothing wrong, our vice principal called us trailer trash to our faces on our bus and the kids at school were cruel and treated us like we were disgusting and not good enough. When we were “lucky” enough to be invited to their houses we were watched more than the other kids and we were not treated the same way by the parents compared to their fellow friends from the same income level. We were taught by everyone around us that we should be and were inferior ( we were not!). During this time there was also one of my bullies who everyday would not only verbally harass me but sexually harass me at my locker and the worst part at the time was that there were either the kids that ignored that it was happening or the kids who laughed. I can't speak for my few friends at the time but what made all this worse was because school was not the only place I had problems. At home my father was an alcoholic and on any given day my house was a cocktail mixture of verbal abuse, emotional abuse, and domestic violence. After a while I not only started feeling sick a lot but I eventually stopped going to school and would stay home “sick” to avoid school ( both my parents worked so I would be alone during the day). Around this time was really when I developed anxiety, depression and for the first time battled with suicidal thoughts. This went on for a long time. When things finally had their culminating point of me finally opening up at least about what was happening at school. My mom was the first person to ask me and later as an adult in therapy my therapist also asked why did I never tell anyone what was happening to me? The answer was truly simple, complex but simple. I did not want to burden anyone. I told my mom she already dealt with so much because of my father and how he treated us that I did not want to add one more burden to her already full plate. I felt that if I could just handle it on my own it would be fine, eventually it would stop or these people who were cruel would just give up. I also felt ashamed and disgusted by what was happening. I also told my therapist (as an adult looking back on that time) that why would I tell anyone when the kids in the hallway made it clear they did not care and the adults ( teachers and office staff) who I should have been able to trust made it clear they did not like us either simply because of where we live and our income level.

Now back to Dead Friend Forever

Here are the definitions for Abuse of Power, Sexual Coercion and Grooming.

Abuse of power is when someone misuses their authority or higher position in a hierarchy to take advantage of, coerce or harm other people. And it can lead to different types of abuse, such as psychological, physical, financial and sexual abuse.

Sexual coercion is using pressure or influence to get someone to agree to sex. People can knowingly coerce others into sex, such as learning manipulative pick-up artist strategies, or unknowingly, such as assuming the other person is OK when they're not.

Grooming is a tactic where someone methodically builds a trusting relationship with a child or young adult, their family, and community to manipulate, coerce, or force the child or young adult to engage in sexual activities.

More information about grooming:

Because they were groomed, children and teens who were abused often feel that they were in some way responsible for the abuse. This is especially true for teens who feel that they went into the situation willingly and thus in some way it was their fault. This shame and guilt then prevents them from reporting, as they fear that no one will believe them. In fact, many teens who have been groomed are confused as to whether what happened to them actually constituted abuse as it didn’t follow the stereotypical pattern of a violent rape. In many cases this confusion can prevent or delay reporting for many years.

Non was groomed and then sexually assaulted regardless whether it seemed like he consented. Let me say it louder for the people in the back!

Kru Keng sexually assaulted Non! He did not ”cheat” on Phee. Did he lie to Phee yes, but he did not cheat in the stereotypically what we as a society view cheating.

the signs or steps of grooming with examples from the episode:

Make you feel like you owe them. Because you are in a relationship, because you’ve had sex before or because they give/spend money on you or because you go home with them they are owed for these behaviors.

We see Keng offer Non a ride home and he then offers him money to get out of his situation. We don’t see him doing these things with other students.

Victim Selection: abusers often observe possible victims and select them based on ease of access to them or their perceived vulnerability.

Keng clocks that Non is vulnerable the first time he is in the study class and even looks back at him after scolding Top and asking Non for his name. We see this through the several times he brings up how Non is having friend problems or how he doesn't want to work with Tee, and Non unfortunately mentions how just knowing someone cares makes him feel better which makes Keng even more aware of how alone Non seems to be.

Gaining access and isolating the victim: abusers will attempt to physically or emotionally separate a victim from those protecting them and often seek out positions in which they have contact with minors.

Keng has perfect access as a math tutor/teacher to have contact with minors. Also he always has Non come to his office or meet him alone despite the fact that his office is in a seemingly more isolated place than the classrooms.

Trust development and keeping secrets: abusers attempt to gain trust of victims through gifts, sharing secrets, etc.

Keng not only praises Non as a student but also then tells him things like I want to help you anyway I can, I noticed that you are sad, I can give you money to help you because I view you like a brother, I now know your secret regarding Tee and the money so I am someone you can trust.

Desensitization to touch : abusers will often start to touch a victim in ways that appear harmless and later escalate to increasingly more sexual contact.

Keng touches Non’s shoulder seemingly to comfort him, the next time he is holding his hand, then he is holding his hand on his knee and rubbing the back of his hand. All these on their own could be innocent and seem like comfort or being friendly. Until Keng kisses Non crossing that line and leading directly to assaulting him.

Attempt by abusers to make their behavior seem natural: to avoid raising suspicions. For teens who may be particularly close in age to the abuser it can be hard to recognize grooming tactics.

I feel for Non because we see how he is not happy and is actually crying when he hugs Phee the first time when Keng kisses him and then we see him come down to meet Phee. Also Non is trapped in a situation where he is being manipulated and being taken advantage of and sees little to no way out of this financial mess with the money laundering. We, as an audience, saw the fight with his family after where his mother says she is embarrassed because of him and says to Non’s father that if he weren’t a loser then Non wouldn’t be one too. Non very much is receiving a message whether she meant it or not because emotions were high is irrelevant. Non is receiving the message that he is a burden and an embarrassment. Non is aware of his family's financial situation as well. We see him say it to Phee several times about how he wants to solve his own problems and he does not want to burden people. I do not think Non lied to Phee because he wanted to, I think he did it because not only would it put another thing on Phee’s shoulders after he already went to his dad once for Non but also puts Non in a vulnerable position. I personally was asked many times by people oh are you okay? Are you sure everything is good because you look upset? And everytime I lied because I didn't want to be a burden but I also never wanted to look at myself as a victim or admit that I was a victim because that bit of fragile control on my life was one of the only things I could control. And as an adult I have had the chance to talk to some people I knew at the time and they all told me they knew I was lying about being okay or even though I cried and then would say I was fine, I wasn’t. But they all felt like if they pushed me to talk I would never tell them and my one friend said point blank at least I could make you forget about it for a while even if I didn’t really know what you wanted a distraction from. I 100% feel this is exactly what is Non’s perspective. He cannot control how Por, Tee, Top, Fluke and even Jin treat him. He cannot control how his parents view him. He cannot control Phee or Phee’s decisions to love or help him. He cannot control Keng. He cannot take back getting involved with Tee and the money laundering or the consequences of that. What Non can control is how he feels or what he takes control of. Non can control whether he views himself as a victim. He can also control whether he finishes the movie that he wrote the script for. The movie and script are something he did, they come from him and are something at the end of the day regardless of anyone else he Non can be proud of. I think while we may not view his staying with the group healthy and it's not, or his lying to Phee about things that are happening good cause it’s not; it makes sense to Non. Because again he is a teenager who is vulnerable and easily exploitable and has very little control and teenagers whose brains are not fully developed are making not only decisions they think are best or worst at the time but also making decisions based on what they know at that moment. Seeing people who are watching this show and who are hating on Non or do not understand what happened between Non and Keng infuriate me. Should we all feel bad for Phee? Yes. He wants to be there for Non, he loves him and wants to care , on top of knowing that Non is being bullied and seeing what Keng did has to be heartbreaking and frustrating. Also without context to their conversations Phee as a fellow teenager may not be aware or understand fully what Keng did to Non is not on Non.

You can feel bad for Phee without victim blaming Non.

Non made poor choices regarding his trust with Phee or his ability to trust Phee but none of those things mean that he deserved what happened or that because it seems like he consented that it is all just fine and he cheated on Phee and had sex with Keng.

Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk!!

#dead friend forever #dff the series #barcode tinnasit #be on cloud #copper phuriwat #dff spoilers #fuaiz thanawat #jj chalach #jjay patiphan #mio athens #bl series #ta nannakun #bump pawat #jet jetsadakorn #us nititorn #pheenon #dead friend forever the series #dff

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estrogeneral-intelligence · 1 month

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should i be surprised youre okay with pedophilia. way to be a stereotypical image of a trans person.

I fucking love this straw man argument. Not at all in bad faith. And you know damn well that you're in the wrong here, hence the anon. But sure, let's deconstruct my beliefs on the matter.

I'm not cool with pedophilia, which is why I want to STOP dehumanizing people with those urges and instead encourage them to seek therapy/mental help. MORE kids get assaulted when the adults who assault them don't get the help they need before offending.

It's the same situation as the War On Drugs, with the same bullshit "we're saving the kids" rhetoric. Instead of providing help to people with a problem before it hurts other people, we instead stigmatize and outcast people until they eventually hurt themselves or others because they have nowhere to go to work through their vices.

Like, I'm sure you've fantasized about killing someone you dislike before. Maybe a politician who passed policy that harms you, or a neighbor who threatens to sue you about inane bullshit, or a trans person who committed the egregious crime of existing in front of you. It doesn't mean you're going to do that, and if those thoughts became pervasive you'd see a therapist about it and get mental health treatment. Experiencing a desire to do something didn't mean you're going to do that thing.

If you want to stop pedophilia and sAvE tHe ChIlDrEn, you need to stop acting like people with those urges are inherently bad people. Consider that you could always be one traumatic flashback or brain injury or self-discovery away from being in the same boat as these people you so despise.

And since this apparently has to be said, to be 100% clear, I experience no attraction to children whatsoever. I have a DNI on my NSFT blog for a fucking reason.

#tw pedophila mention #pedophillia mention #cw pedophila #pedophillia tw #ask byn

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tatasoom · 4 months

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Never have I thought... Last Twilight turned out to be that good that I would like to write not prediction and not bl-related things, but about a thing we all know so damn well - family.

There're two types of comments that makes me sad:

about Day's mother not understanding Day and his love

about Day hating Night too much

I've already written about my parents getting divorced at the same age of mine as Day was. But what if I told you that I also have an older brother, stories of father cheating on mother and a mother always busy with work?..

Take a seat, dear readers, thank you for your attention, I'll try to make it easy to read and maybe put some pictures. I'll tell you what's real in this series and why my heart hurts for all of them!

First of all let me tell you why Day's father hasn't become a problem and later Day even talked to him nicely. I mean REALLY NICELY. The answer is lack of feelings in Day. You can't hate person you barely able to love. You can't be hurt enough by someone you barely remember.

That man cheated on their mother, that man didn't provide his own two children even with food, but all of this exists as a story once told to Day. He loves the idea of being kinda loved by his biological parent, because we all want to be wanted and needed, but the father we've seen in that last two episodes is a stranger we're all getting to know with Day.

Let's leave this man living his life full of regrets and talk about Day's mother. She is THE MOTHER. As we know she discovered being cheated when Day was three (or maybe earlier?), left her propably hometown and spent another two years dealing with a need to divorce. Night was around ten or even less that time. She was maybe thirty. No food, no money and only three of them as she mentioned when giving Mhok a house tour.

And Day's mother actually survived and even succeed. I like the actress chosen for this role. She's beautiful. She looks gorgeous every time we see her. She also must be smart and charismatic to be a famous chef. And still there're only three of them. After around fifteen years (or even more) this absolutely stunning woman is still a single mother of two.

This woman made a fortress that supposed to keep safe from any heartbreak. And this fortress has it's rules.

Have you heard anything about Night's girlfriends? He's already mature enough to have a girlfriend or even a wife. And do you understand now why I think that the fear in Day's eyes everytime Mhok flirts with him at home probably has very little with a sexual orientation?..

The whole family has TRUST ISSUES. Their mother is their leader of course.

So you say that the mother with her trust issues (and social status and financial stability) should understand that Mhok loves her son. Okay, Mhok for her:

Young man, something around the age of her older son. Spent a year in prison. Has no relatives. Is an employee in her house. Didn't talk to him much.

Now tell this woman she needs to be happy her younger blind son is dating Mhok. And wants to be with him. Live together, have his own family. After all these tough years when there're only three of them and the reason for that was her being cheated by someone she loved. Tell her to trust in love. Tell her she needs to trust Mhok.

You can tell this woman to get therapy and then talk to her son(s) and you will be absolutely right. However people usually don't act right when dealing with their strongest emotions and I can't imagine this woman being less than heartbroken in the next episode.

Also need to say that being a single mother of two sounds like a choice between spending time with children and spending time making money for these children. And it's true. I also blamed my mother for not being in my life when dealing with different sh*t.

I was being bullied for a year and all my mother did was making me to change school after the year ended. She never been there when I was coming home with eyes full of tears. Oh, and before that year I even had an accidental (not car accident) eye trauma. Yeah, really, I'm not lying. My eye never recovered fully and I spent a week with a vision similar to Day's one. But it's okay now. I was around twelve back then.

So what about Night? Don't you think Day hates him too much? It's not a big deal to use Night to get to Songkhla and just not speak to him there at all, right? Why being so dramatic?

I remember a couple years ago my older brother was asked by my mother to help me with some renovations in the apartment I live in. That night we argued that hard that I left my only home in the whole big city and refused to come back until he left it. It was around 5AM. I spent that night in a park.

So if you think Day can't be mad at Night after that car accident without more valid reason, you need to ask yourself what Day felt for Night before the accident. And the simplified answer is love.

It's only the closest ones that can hurt you the most.

It would be really nice to know more about Day and Night's childhood, teen years. I'm sure mother always told them they need to be together and help each other and be kind to each other. The boys for sure was annoyed, but they care of each other so damn much. The goldfish "Little Day" is still alive after all.

After such a betrayal from a man mother can only trust her sons she raised herself. She taught them to trust her, to trust each other. That's why Night used to be the main caregiver for Day. He was the only person the mother could trust as much as she trusts herself.

Meanwhile Day learned that the only way to have some mother's time is to be the better son. Maybe his mother can't be with him regularly, but she wil definitely come to see him playing, right? Day and Night managed to compete for mother's time and attention without even realizing it.

I actually tend to tell everyone that my mother loves my brother more, even though I try to be less troublesome and more mature. I even complained to my friends about the need to take care of my older brother like he's the younger one.

I feel something like grief looking at Day's family. Their relationships and their personalities are like an aftershock of something happened years ago. And maybe it's not even a divorce.

Time actually heals. For Day and Mhok and Day's mother's relationship this time will start the moment she will be told about them. For Day and Night's relationship this time will start the moment Day get a stable zero vision and start learning to live in a new reality. I also hope we won't get eye donation from father/brother/mother/Mhok or I won't trust screenwriters ever again.

The family needs to see each other. And for that they actually don't need eyes.

If you're reading this you're my hero!

Thank you so much for reading this brainrot. I questioned myself whether all of this needs to be written, but decided to spit my thoughts out. Sometimes these writings help to analyse not only the characters, but myself. That's good.

#last twilight the series #last twilight #sea tawinan #mark pakin #jimmy jitaraphol #gmmtv series

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sapphicromanoffxo · 7 months

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Lucky Ones | v. Missing Piece

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Wanda Maximoff

Word count: 3,429

Warnings: Mommy kink, strap on use, spanking, dirty talk, praise kink, squirting, choking, dom/sub dynamic

Summary: Natasha's past is slowly catching up with the present.

A/N: I edited the second chapter and added a tiny information. You can read that one again if you'd like. :)

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The weather in New York during the start of November carries a gentle breeze, which Natasha particularly enjoys. She has a preference for colder climates, relishing the opportunity to layer her clothing and complete her daily outfits with cozy boots. Perhaps it's her Russian upbringing that influenced this preference, as she lived for years in a predominantly cold climate region before moving to America.

Natasha was having a rather relaxed day at work, and got bored with watching the world through her glass walls so she decided to give her Mom a call, and Milena answered promptly.

"Nat! I'm so delighted you reached out. How's my little one?" Milena inquired with such genuine warmth.

"Mom, I'm actually 35 now. I'm not your little one anymore," Natasha replied with a playful sigh.

"Oh Nat, age doesn't matter; you'll always be my cherished child who used to ask for a glass of milk when she couldn't sleep."

This comment brought a smile to Natasha's face. "Well, I guess milk does work wonders for insomnia."

The two women continued their conversation, catching up on the latest updates from the orphanage and how they were handling the new children.

Listening to Milena's updates triggered memories of Natasha's time at the orphanage. She had been just 13 years old, a teenager, when she found herself in that place. Milena had made sure to create a homey atmosphere, always attentive to her needs, and eager to ensure her comfort. She had been a shy kid who rarely spoke, but Milena's care and kindness had slowly helped her come out of her shell.

Milena's innate motherly instincts stirred within her when it came to Natasha, and she couldn't quite pinpoint the exact reason she felt such a strong connection. Perhaps it was their shared Russian heritage that provided a common bond. Natasha had previously lived in Ohio and was placed in the orphanage by the US government. Milena immediately attended to Natasha, her fragile frame spoke volumes about the hardships she had endured, and her green eyes, once filled with youthful curiosity, now bore the weight of a past too heavy for someone so young.

Milena couldn't help but feel an intense protectiveness toward Natasha. One day, she confided in her husband, Alexei, expressing her desire to adopt Natasha. Understanding the goodness in Natasha's heart, Alexei readily agreed to Milena's heartfelt wish.

The journey through the adoption process was lengthy, but Milena remained resolute in her determination. It wasn't until Natasha reached the age of 15 that the adoption was finalised. That's the first time in Natasha's life where she saw the light again and Milena couldn't contain her joy upon hearing the news. She welcomed Natasha into their loving home.

However, life wasn't all smooth sailing and happiness, as the new parents recognized the need to enroll Natasha in therapy. Natasha had faced a difficult pas and Milena saw this as an opportunity to help Natasha heal, but Natasha was initially hesitant.

"Malysh, this is important for your well-being. It can help you in dealing with your past, and remember, both Alexei and I will be there with you every step of the way," Milena reassured Natasha, gently trying to convince her to give therapy a chance.

"I understand its importance, but I'd rather dedicate my time fully to my education. I have a lot to catch up on since I missed out some years. Please, I'd rather not go to therapy," Natasha pleaded, her hopes resting on Milena's understanding.

Milena carefully considered her options, mindful not to push Natasha into something she had no interest in. She recognized that forcing Natasha into therapy could potentially cause more harm than good.

"Alright, no therapy for now," Milena began, noticing Natasha's readiness for a counterargument. "But," she continued, her tone gentle, "Malysh, please hear me out first." She sighed with relief when Natasha nodded.

"As your mother now, I bear the responsibility for your well-being. Let's find a compromise. How about during your summer break, you can see a therapist, perhaps once or twice a week? I know someone who can help us arrange this."

Natasha contemplated Milena's proposal deeply and eventually gave in.

"Alright, I'll see a therapist only during my summer break," Natasha said with a hint of defeat in her voice, dreading the possibility of her past being revisited, which brought her nothing but discomfort.

"Thank you, dear. I only want what's best for you, do you understand?" Milena reassured her.

"Yes, Milena," Natasha replied with a sense of acceptance.

"Dorogaya, I don't want to take up any more of your time. We will see you here for your birthday, yes?" Milena asked Natasha.

At that moment, Natasha realised that her birthday was just a month away, and she had already made a promise to her mother.

"Of course, I'll be there. I'm looking forward to seeing the changes that you have done at the orphanage," Natasha replied, though her enthusiasm was somewhat muted.

"I must thank you, both for your generous donations and your Dad's. They're making a real difference for the children in need," Milena acknowledged.

"No need to thank me, Mom. I have to give back somehow." Natasha said sincerely.

"You truly don't have to, but your generosity means a lot, not just to me, but to all the kids here," Milena reassured her.

Natasha still wasn't entirely accustomed to Milena's kind compliments, so she remained silent on the other end of the line. The call concluded a few minutes later, leaving Natasha alone with her thoughts. The same question that crossed her mind every day: "Where would I be without Milena?" She sighed deeply and returned to work, attempting to distract herself from dwelling on the past.

At 6 PM, Natasha's phone rang, and it was Wanda who was calling her.

"Wanda, is everything alright?" Natasha asked with concern in her voice.

"Yes, everything's fine. I was just wondering if you're done with work? Maybe we could meet up and head home together," Wanda suggested.

"I'm just wrapping up some reports, but I can drive over to your university instead. How does that sound, dear?" Natasha offered.

"Sure, that works! I'll be waiting outside the gate for you. See you later!"

Natasha ended the call and began packing her things. She had something special in mind for tonight, and she hoped Wanda wouldn't be too tired for it.

The two women returned home safely, and as they entered, Wanda wasted no time in getting started on preparing dinner. For Wanda, cooking was her way of expressing gratitude for everything Natasha did for her, and she firmly believed in the old saying, "The way to a person's heart is through their stomach."

"So, what's on the menu for tonight, Chef Wanda?" Natasha inquired playfully.

"I thought we could have chicken paprikash. Does that sound good to you?" Wanda asked, a hint of excitement in her voice.

"I'm actually in the mood for bending you over on that counter." Natasha mumbles to herself while she is scrolling through her phone.

"Huh? Did you say something?" Wanda was confused with whatever Natasha could have said.

"Nothing, I said chicken paprikash sounds good." Natasha smiled to herself hiding her devilish grin.

Dinner was fantastic as always. Wanda indeed has a natural talent with cooking but Natasha is impatient for her planned dessert.

"Detka, come over here, please."

Wanda promptly went to the couch and abandoned what she's doing in the kitchen as she immediately sat on Natasha's lap.

"I want to do something tonight and I hope you're open to it." Natasha is slowly caressing Wanda's thighs, teasing her way into making Wanda say yes.

"What is it?" Wanda asked with great curiosity.

"I badly want to fuck you with my cock. Would you like that?" Natasha went straight to the point with no hesitation.

Wanda's thoughts momentarily froze, a whirlwind of excitement and fear swirling within her as Natasha's proposal hung in the air. She would agree with whatever Natasha wants, there is no doubt about it. Wanda was acutely aware that this was the moment when Natasha would unleash her inner predator, and she willingly embraced the role of the willing prey.

"Yes, Miss. I would like that very much."

Natasha will never get tired of seeing how easily Wanda would get into her subspace. A simple command would make her all desperate and needy.

"Go to my room. I want you naked in my bed and make sure you are on your fours."

"Alright, Miss." Wanda stood hastily, her excitement is too obvious in the way she walks and squeezes her thighs.

"What a fucking slut." Natasha whispered to herself, so pleased with Wanda's obedience.

Natasha counted to 50 before heading up to her bedroom. She makes sure that she's in the right headspace before starting anything with Wanda.

Natasha opened the door and was delighted to see Wanda's ass facing her immediately.

"My my. Look at you, kitten. You sure do know how to follow instructions." Natasha needs to build up further Wanda's subspace in order for her to get what she wants.

"Do you know about safe word, Wanda?" Natasha inquired with Wanda since this is her first time.

"No, miss."

"But you do know about the traffic light system?" The older woman inquired even more.

"Yes, Miss. I do know about it."

"It could be applied here as well, if you say green, it means you enjoy what I am doing to you and we will proceed with it. Yellow means you want me to take it slow, and red means stop. I want you to decide your own safe word but I like the simplicity of the color system."

"I want my safe word to be krasnyy."

Natasha was almost not surprised by the chosen word and for Wanda to know the Russian language.

"That means red in Russian. Very well."

Natasha approached the closet where she hides her kinky accessories and reached up to retrieve her trusted harness and a thin rope. It's been a while since she used them and the thought of using them on Wanda thrills her to no end. She attached the harness on her hips and she is contemplating what size of dildo would be sufficient for tonight, since this Wanda's first time, she will use the 7-inch dildo. There's no doubt that she will make it fit through Wanda's tight pussy.

The older woman stood behind Wanda and placed a towel below Wanda's torso then spanked her ass with out any warning.

"Miss!" It made Wanda scream from her throat as the stinging pain in her ass came unexpectedly.

"I hope you know that I noticed every attempt you are making in touching me. Let this be a warning to never ever touch me without permission. Is that clear?" The sound of the second spank reverated inside the room.

Wanda'a eyes widened as her plans were easily busted by the older woman. "Yes, Miss! I'm sorry!"

"Hmm. Let's see about that."

Natasha has no consideration for foreplay tonight. She usually makes Wanda come first through her tongue before she fingers her. But tonight, Natasha would set a firm warning for the younger woman.

"Open your legs wider and put your hands behind your back." Wanda followed the instructions, Natasha grabbed the thin rope then started tying Wanda's wrist on a tight knot. She can't let Wanda's hand roam around her body anymore.

Wanda is easily aroused by Natasha and the obvious dominant stance that is being shown at the very moment which adds more stimulation on her head. Wanda heard the clicking nose and dared to look behind her. She saw Natasha lathering the dildo with a good amount of lubricant and the slow stroking movement made her squeeze her thighs for temporary pleasure.

Natasha positioned the toy in front of the younger woman's core. A sinister voice is whispering in Natasha's ear to penetrate Wanda immediately, however, this needs to be taken as gently as possible. She can go as rough as she wants once Wanda is adjusted anyway.

Natasha buried her cock as slowly as she can muster. Wanda groans at every inch that goes inside her and further stretching her pussy.

"Fuck! Miss! Shit! I don't think it will fit. You're so big– ahhh!" Wanda couldn't even finish her sentence as the pleasure consumes her sanity.

"Baby, you can take it. I will make it fit on this tight pussy of yours."

Wanda simply nodded and trusted Natasha with her pleasure.

Once the cock is all buried inside Wanda, Natasha took it out slowly and rammed back in making Wanda moan in wanton.

Natasha started her brutal thrust and did not slow down upon hearing Wanda's blissful whimpers.

"Natty, please! Slow down a bit. You're so— hmmp!" Wanda pleaded since she's too overwhelmed with the intense mixture of pleasure and pain.

"Huh? We are not slowing down, detka. I know you like being fucked like a whore with your ass on display like this." Natasha's cruel words are getting into Wanda's head which made her respond in an unexpected way.

"Yes yes! Mommy, please fuck me harder!"

Bingo. Natasha grinned like a madwoman that she is at the moment. Another theory has been tested right. This girl is going to be the death of her.

Natasha leaned forward, closer to Wanda and growled at her while she grabbed Wanda's hair, "Say it again for me, baby girl. Go on. Tell mommy how you like to fucked."

"Ahhhh! Mommy mommy! Fuck me like a slut that I am. Go faster, please!"

The bedroom is filled with Natasha's unforgiving thrusts combined with the sound of the slapping of flesh against one another. Natasha is gripping Wanda's hips so hard which is gonna leave a bruise right after.

Natasha's right hand then grabbed a fistful of Wanda's hair and pulled her closer to her chest. "What a fucking slut. Telling Mommy what she wants. You need to learn how to accept what is being given!" Natasha growled in Wanda's ear while she's still abusing her tight hole and her thrusts are unmerciful.

Wanda can no longer comprehend what is going on in her head as Natasha is hitting all the right places inside her. "Mommy, just like that. Please don't stop. I'm so close. Please please!"

"I wish I have a real dick right now. I bet your squeezing me so fucking hard. This pussy is mine to fuck. You understand?" Natasha emphasised her words by wrapping her left hand on Wanda's throat and choking the younger woman. She makes sure she's applying the correct pressure in order to make Wanda feel lightheaded.

"Fuck, yes! This pussy is yours ahh– Mommy! I'm cumming!"

"Cum on my dick, you fucking slut!" Natasha growled and continued her powerful thrusts which made Wanda squirt, intensifying the orgasm even further.

Natasha's movements slowed down eventually and pulled the toy out then removed it all together from her hips, also taking away the towel underneath Wanda. Taking a small damp towel, Natasha gently cleansed Wanda's thighs, carefully untied the knots that had previously bound Wanda's wrists and examed the faint red imprints they had left behind. Natasha then proceeded to apply a soothing lotion to Wanda's wrists to reduce the noticeable marks.

Wanda slumped on the bed and was silent for the first few minutes, trying to regain her wits and mind.

"Wanda, are you with me?"

Wanda found herself momentarily lost in thought, something had slipped her mind and mouth during their passionate moment.

"Wanda?" Natasha repeated, a hint of concern in her voice, as she started to become alarmed by Wanda's silence.

"I'm sorry," Wanda finally spoke up.

"What for, baby?" Natasha inquired with a gentle tone.

"I said something earlier. I didn't expect myself to say it," Wanda confessed.

Noticing Wanda's hesitation, Natasha probed further. "What did you say? I'm sure you said many things, but I'd like you to be more specific, sweetheart." Natasha shifted, lying on her side to face Wanda, who remained in the same position.

"Well, I, uh... I called you 'Mommy.' I feel so embarrassed about it," Wanda mumbled, hiding her face in the pillows and unable to meet Natasha's gaze.

"Detka, please, look at me," Natasha gently urged, and Wanda slowly lifted her face to meet Natasha's understanding gaze.

"There's absolutely nothing wrong with what you said. In fact, I like it very much," Natasha reassured Wanda gently while caressing Wanda's back.

"You do? You don't find it strange that I called you that?" Wanda asked, her uncertainty evident.

"No, baby. It is perfectly fine with me. You're perfect. I promise. So stop that pretty mind of yours from overthinking. Okay?"

"Alright. If you say so." Wanda replied with a small smile, feeling reassured.

Both women cleaned themselves separately as what happens every night. Tonight, Natasha made her warning clear to Wanda to refrain from touching her, and this warning is embedded in her mind. But Wanda can still try if she wants to, right?

"How was your day, baby?" Natasha initiated a conversation when they got back in bed since she's too keyed up after tonight's activities.

"Nothing much happened today. It was a slow day for me. But we had a transferee, her name is MJ. She looks familiar, and I couldn't quite place where I'd seen her before. So, I decided to approach her after our class," she explained.

"Interesting. How did that conversation go?" Natasha inquired.

"Do you remember the orphanage I told you about, the one in New Jersey?"

Natasha concealed her emotions as best as she could. "Yes, I recall. The one where you and Pietro stayed, yes?"

"That's the one. It turns out, MJ was there as well not long after Pietro and I arrived. But I don't think we ever became friends during our time there, since she was adopted."

"How long did you both stay at the orphanage?" Natasha tried to play pretend in her questions to appear interested.

"Well, we were placed there when we were 12 years old. Then, they enrolled us in a program to catch up on our education because we had missed out on so much. Then we left when we turned 18. So, in total, we spent 6 years there."

Changing the subject, Natasha asked, "So, where is Pietro now? I realise we haven't talked much about him lately." She wanted to steer the conversation away from the sensitive topic.

"We talk through the phone every now and then. He's a scholar since he is a race track runner in Michigan. Would you like to meet him one day?" Wanda asked enthusiastically.

"Sure, baby. I want to meet your twin brother of course."

"Thank you, Natty. You are the best." Wanda beamed, her happiness evident as she leaned in to plant a loving kiss on Natasha's lips. "I think we should get some rest now. You've completely worn me out tonight."

Natasha couldn't help but chuckle at Wanda's confession. "Alright, sleep it is. Good night, detka." She pressed a tender kiss to Wanda's forehead before adjusting herself in bed, positioning herself as the big spoon.

"Good night, Natty." Wanda drew Natasha's arm closer to her and slowly drifted into peaceful slumber.

As Natasha lay there, her thoughts began to drift, and she contemplated how long she could keep her past from Wanda. She'd noticed how openly Wanda wore her heart on her sleeve and looks at her like she's the best thing on earth while unaware of her checkered past. Wanda had a way of making her experience emotions she thought she wasn't capable of feeling. Wanda is like a radiant sun that disperses the darkness of her gloomy days, and, as cliché as it may sound, she truly embodies that sentiment.

However, a sense of fear loomed over Natasha, she dreaded the possibility that if Wanda were to ever discover the truth, she might choose to leave, run away from her and the tangled web of secrets that had defined Natasha's life.

It wasn't that Natasha was deliberately lying to Wanda. She was simply omitting important information that could potentially change or destroy their relationship. She held onto the hope that one day, she would gather the courage to share her past, to open up and reveal the parts of herself she'd kept hidden for so long. And in that moment, she could only pray to the heavens above that Wanda would understand and accept her, scars and all.

#natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff #wandanat #natasha x wanda #wlw #wandanat fanfiction #marvel

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decolonize-the-left · 3 months

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I think that a lot of the adult "immaturity" is result of being abused by the family structure and capitalism so growing up into some agency allowing certaint comforts. Then having to challenge some comfortable established belief, aspect, themself or lifestyle poses a struggle they aren't willing to engage in if at possible as it frequently seemingly has no reward outside of their current comfort.

I think when youths are liberated the concept of "immaturity" will be largely replace by a more accurate term because we have adults less "mature" than children because of the absurdity of it. It's like lazyness it's not a thing but a situation. Idk this a ramble now, but appreciated you broaching the topic of adult "immaturity'" publicly

1000% I agree & I don't like the terms I'm using, but they're what we've got. Someone else sent an ask about what "child traits" are for the same exact reason.

Also no it's okay ramble, that's all I do, watch this.

I think the way we discuss minors/kids/YA/maturity entirely needs to change tbh, but not in a child wife way, before someone says that.

They're robbed of a ton of autonomy, are raised to be workers, and then are thrust into adulthood with no teaching about the Real, actual world. They're treated like 2nd class citizens and are the only people I can think of who you can still legally assault. We belittle everything they do as less important and then wonder why everyone needs therapy as adults.

I was more critical thinker than my parents by 8 and more capable than both parents by 12. This isn't a flex because I was too smart. At all. My parents should have had more skill than I did. They were capable of it, I assure you. By their own circumstances they just weren't able to access it.

But this goes back to capitalism and broader mental health and family resources because they also weren't raised with Google and didn't have gentle parenting TikTok or free zoom classes to join. I don't think we even had healthcare growing up so it's not like they had access to a lot of methods to improve themselves outside traditional reading BUT both parents worked too and they were already too fucked up and in their ways to even be interested in a self help book lol so like?? Realistically and in reality that didn't happen. They were thrown out as teens as had to work to support Me very quickly. Then had 2 more.

Like you said; lifestyle and having no reward. They didn't seek out being better people cuz it doesn't pay the bills.

And I know that isn't entirely their fault, but they are Still responsible for how they handled the hand they were dealt. Me and my siblings deserved better regardless of their background ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ But I can be compassionate and understanding too in that I know if they had the Actual opportunity to heal and resources to be good parents then at least at the very least they could have been.

And like I said, as a person who does try for my daughter I get it's hard and it is unfair that I can't catch a break, but that's the way it is. And yeah it is harder for me than it would be for a lot of other people and it's not especially easy to begin with. BUT I also don't work cuz I'm disabled so I have a lot of time to do it that others don't.

You're right. I don't know if immature is the best word to use for this but idk what is.

What's the word for state sanctioned generational trauma?

Cuz not providing more resources given the world is much more than just ableism or not caring enough about families. It's like they're creating people like this on purpose which is I think is more fucked up. But hey, who else would they hire for as cheap as prison labor if everyone was making good choices amirite? 🤧

#asked #answered #is this tmi? idk #i have so many feelings about this as an abused former foster kid and now co-parenting a school age kid #i believe so much in liberation of youth and families yall dont even know

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justinspoliticalcorner · 4 days

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Eliel Cruz for Teen Vogue:

When I was a teenager in the early aughts, conversion therapists reigned supreme in evangelical Christian spaces, spewing pseudo-scientific techniques as a supposed “remedy” for LGBTQ identities. Growing up in the Seventh-day Adventist church and school system, LGBTQ identities were vilified and demonized at the pulpit and in our classrooms. The answer to our sexualities, according to the church, was to deny ourselves love or a partner, stay celibate, or to work on “changing” our sexuality so that we were no longer queer. There were groups and conferences with self-proclaimed “ex-gay” speakers providing testimonies about how they “overcame” their sexuality and therapists eager to “help” others pursue the same path.

According to a Williams Institute report, 7% of LGB adults ages 18 to 59 in the United States have undergone conversion therapy. About 81% of those individuals were in “therapy” with religious leaders, which heightened suicidal thoughts and ideation in comparison to LGB people who have not gone through conversion “therapy” practices. Across the globe, these numbers fluctuate between 2% all the way up to 34% of LGBTQ+ people having undergone conversion practices. By the mid-2010s, these groups and their influence began to dwindle as national organizations like Exodus International, one of the longest-running and largest ex-gay organizations, shuttered its doors after 37 years, admitting that not only did conversion or reparative therapy not work, it was harmful to the LGBTQ people subjected to it. Former Exodus International President Alan Chambers said: "I am sorry for the pain and hurt many of you have experienced. I am sorry that some of you spent years working through the shame and guilt you felt when your attractions didn't change,” admitting his own attractions to men had not gone away, despite being married to a woman and having children.

The closing of Exodus International signaled the end of a decades-long push for ex-gay therapy, or so it would seem. But in recent years, as legislation has passed across the country to ban conversion therapy for youth, a new push for so-called “change therapy” has re-emerged with the same flawed premise and tactics of the ex-gays of old. A group called Changed Movement, formed in response to legislation banning conversion therapy in California, is one such group using new language to promote the same-old conversion therapy. Conversion or reparative therapy, loosely defined, is any attempt to influence and change someone’s sexual orientation or gender identity. Often, these counselors blame trauma or violence, family dynamics, or your upbringing as the root of the deviant sexuality or gender identity. Changed Movement shares stories of individuals blaming these roots as the cause of their sexuality or gender. This assertion is false and only serves to shame the individual, often for reasons beyond their control. Importantly, ex-gay groups like the Changed Movement do not seem to reckon with the fluidity of sexuality and gender and, as proponents of this ideology typically do, seemingly view things as either gay or straight, trans or cisgender.

[...] In a report by the Trevor Project, researchers found at least 1,320 conversion therapy practitioners in almost all 50 states, including states with active conversion therapy bans for minors. Almost half of those counselors are unlicensed, and most are attached to some sort of religious ministry. While couching their language and pretending to be there to help LGBTQ people, the danger of these groups and practitioners cannot be understated.

Recently, an ex-gay group called Coming Out Ministries bought a building across from my alma mater, Andrews University, a Seventh-day Adventist University, intending to “work closely” with the university on LGBTQ issues “from a redemptive perspective.” Groups like Changed Movement and Coming Out Ministries see LGBTQ young people’s identities as “confusion” instead of who they are intrinsically. Their ideology stems from a theological understanding of sexuality that does not take into account science or the world as it exists around them. Anti-LGBTQ theology fuels conversion therapy, and it’s not only flawed but also inherently harmful and violent. As a queer person of faith, I reject theology and religious practices that cause harm, as it is not from God. The history and devastating impacts of ex-gay practices are clear in the irreparable damage it has caused to large swathes of the LGBTQ community raised in religious settings.

Eliel Cruz writes in Teen Vogue the changing history of anti-LGBTQ+/anti-trans medical pseudoscience practice of conversion therapy.

#Conversion Therapy #Ex Gay #LGBTQ+#Transgender #Religion #Changed Movement #Exodus International #Coming Out Ministries

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lawsofchaos1 · 2 months

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MCU Promptlet: Tony takes a breather first AU

When Tony Stark finally sets foot on American soil after three months of captivity and torture, he requests two things: an American cheeseburger and a press conference.

Ms. Virginia "Pepper" Potts, the woman who has risen up to become the personal secretary to the head of the largest weapons manufacturer in the country and who will one day become the CEO of the largest technology empire the world has ever seen, takes one look at the three days of stubble on her boss' cheeks, the haunted gaze in his eyes, and the trembling in his always steady hands and says no.

Pepper does not call the press conference, but instead takes Tony home to his workshop where he can sleep, unwatched and among friends, for the first time in months. She takes him home to soothe Jarvis' fears (even though Jarvis' has uploaded himself to any tech within three meters of Tony since he was found, it's not the same as the sensors in the shop and Jarvis' steady stream of increasingly alarmed texts to Pepper's phone have made that clear).

She takes Tony home to be hugged by his robot-children and to let Rhodey mother-hen him the way he couldn't while in uniform, cajoling him to eat small portions of Rhodey's homemade spaghetti - Tony's ultimate secret comfort food - every few hours. The next morning, the three of them sit at the kitchen table, Jarvis ever-present, and Tony tells them of what he found out in Afghanistan. He tells them and they plan.

Tony doesn't have a press-conference, hands still shaking and fear hidden in his eyes, to shut down everything his company is known for on the way home from the airport. Instead, Rhodey and Pepper and Tony strategize.

Tony meets with the Joint Chiefs and the SecDef, not to mention the heads of the CIA, FBI, and NSA. Stark weapons in terrorist hands scares them the same as Tony. Tony tells them of his plans, for his company and for Iron Man. People tend to forget that Tony's company holds billions in military contracts, but only about twenty percent of that is for weapons.

The military knows there will always be other bomb makers, but the rest of what Tony provides? SI holds those thousands of contracts because there is literally no competition. With the military's continued and public support of SI, even without selling weapons, the company's stock never tanks, but instead surges with Tony's newfound determination and innovation.

With the military's support for Iron Man, Tony's PR surges with newfound respect, not just popularity. Pepper says no to a press conference, and that makes all the difference.

[Additional fun head canon below]

This Tony would be gently cajoled into therapy by Pepper.

And see, Tony was basically raised by the military. Howard used to bring him to meetings as a kid and Tony would escape his SI minders and go hang out with the friendly soldiers until his father remembered he had a kid. The soldiers paid him more attention and taught him more than Howard ever did.

And with how he was captured, it would make a lot of sense for Tony to be with a military therapist, and Rhodey quietly works some magic and Tony somehow ends up in group therapy sessions with other soldiers with PTSD.

The soldiers are at first a little wary of Tony Stark coming to group, but also a little in awe because most of them owe their lives or the lives of their brothers/sisters to Stark Tech of some kind.

But then they get to know Tony. And Tony .. doesn't really have friends.

He has Rhodey- who's amazing but can't be there a lot- and Pepper and Happy, but again, they work for him. So the soldiers decide unilaterally to adopt him.

Suddenly Tony is walking out of group and someone is shoving a baseball cap on his head so they can all go out to Chili's for dinner (and no, they don't let him pay).

Then he's being invited to backyard bbq's and birthday parties for two years olds. (A trust fund is an appropriate gift, right?)

And then one day Lisa (a former sergeant in the group) and Helen (Dave's wife) just .. show up at the Tower with coffee and pastries. They don't want anything, they just want to ... catch-up. Which is precisely when tony is hit by the clue by four that he might just have .. friends.

#lawsofchaos rambles #the avengers #marvel mcu #tony stark #team iron man #promptlet #fanfiction #iron man AU

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wildpeachfarm · 1 month

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Thank you for being such a level headed blog in a time it is much needed while providing much needed relief today with the dnf omega verse posting 😂

While I agree with everything being said, I do think people are missing a big point trying to claim Caiti is an adult woman just bc she turned 18. Talk to most 21 year old and they say 18 is a baby, 25 say 21 is a baby so on. 18 is not some number where magically you stop having childish feeling and emotions. Humans are still developing and maturing all the way into their 20s

It’s about experience and adulting. she wanted to take adult actions while not making mature choices. It is a nuanced thing being 18 because you are still a teenager but also legally an adult but you just left high school but have a job but you can’t drink but but but

I just think people need to be very careful about saying…well she is 18, she is a fully fledged mature adult., cable of adult decision making and rationalization of complex feeling they may be feeling for the first time. That is something you’ll see predators use especially when grooming their victims where the second they turn 18, they go public with their “relationship” (this was something forever q/smp did, claiming the age of consent is lower in Brazil so it was okay)

The point is: Caiti was aware of the choices she was making, cognizant of her options (despite drinking), and choice to remain in a situation that made HER uncomfortable. If she cannot communicate her feeling in a situation like this, she should not be going to parties. She is of an age where she SHOULD be mentally mature enough to recognize some of this. This is not infantilizing her but stating a fact that she is immature and her actions have shown that. She needs to grow the hell up. And she better get used to being uncomfortable because that’s part of what being an adult is. It’s dealing with the uncomfortable-ness of situation and dealing with them in a mature and reasonable way. This is coming from a 30 year old touch adverse person who has to navigate a friendship with someone who is very touch affectionate and knowing not every touch is malice even though it makes me extremely uncomfortable to people to touch anywhere that isn’t my hands…so like I get it but Caiti can’t take this high road without taking personal responsibility that she was irresponsibility and overreacted. (I also think her ‘friends’ gaslit her into believing it was something it was not and she truly needs therapy to sort though all these feelings and emotions to even hope of having a functioning adult life with relationships)

I can only hope her vacation gave her time of reflection and she can see how far she has caused this to spiral and apologize to George in private at least. Because she just started and lead a hate campaign against a man who took responsibility and apologized for how his actions made her feel even if it was not his intentions. Her feelings are valid but that does not excuse her actions which were very malicious (side-eyeing her initial statement and subsequent responses). This is something that never should’ve been made public and should have been handled between the two of them and no one else

-sorry for the word vomit, it wasn’t sitting well with me seeing multiple platforms saying 18 year old are adults and can’t be treated like children. I hope those people are all under the age of 25 bc many adults reflect on how wrong they were when they thought they knew everything at 18-19 and were convinced they were emotionally intelligent. Hell I look back at 25 and realize how stupid I was and readily admit that. I worry for the youth growing up with social media as their morality benchmarks

thank you for adding your thoughts very appreciated :)

#ask #anon #anti drummyache tag

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korok-system · 1 year

Text

Villains Don't Love

Warnings: Mentions to dissociation/derealization and heavy implications of a panic attack/anxiety/mental illness.

Fandom: MHA/BNHA.

Characters: Tomura Shigaraki.

Content: Written in 1st perspective, GN!Reader, SFW, Reader is apart of the LOV, Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Comfort, Confession, Adult Reader, Tomura needs therapy.

Synopsis: Tomura is convinced that he is unworthy of ever experiencing love due to his youth and affiliation with AFO.

A/N: This was a drabble that I wrote a while ago, but I like how it turned out so I hope others enjoy it too. :) This is my first published story so please excuse any imperfections.

I loathe the approach we’ve contrived as a society.

I loathe that we, as a society, are provided a system where it is normalized to openly discriminate towards someone entirely on their quirk or the absence of one- Where children are being raised as a pig to slaughter and it is exclusively at the fault of the idealistic culture of ‘Heroes and Villains’.

The entire structure of this civilization bothers me… Because as I watch Tomura fidget with the deceased hand of his Father, I also watch how that ‘Hero and Villains’ concept brought failure and despair to someone who could have had his innocence conserved and his stability reunited.

He paused abruptly, all fixation remained with the fragile hand within his possession, his silence just as deafening as it was terrifying.

Shigaraki’s incoherent agitation was left unceasing, every movement calculated and precise so as to avoid inflicting any more damage upon the delicate artifact.

“Would you like some help?” I offered silently, barely at a conversational volume, but enough to fill the void that had been separating us for the last 20 minutes.

The absence of his response could indicate a variety of things, either urging silence or motivating pursuit- And with so much unattended grey area it was difficult to dictate which of the two he desired. So, I rose from his bed with an unsettling feeling of prudence.

His hands, parched and flawed from years of villainous conduct, resumed their tentative ordeal as he examined the most minute details of his Father’s dead hand; concentrating balance with only three fingers- The other two, fore and middle finger, delayed any contact as Tomura raised the hand to his face.

“No, I’m fine.” The tone of his voice was enough to discard the topic to the confines of history, instead recalling another method of conversation to ease the unnerving tension circulating the two of us.

Shigaraki was situated at his desk, chair turned to face his desktop while his meagre body performed a rather gauche structure, hunched in a formation begging to conceal himself from view. I closed the distance with a mere step, and Tomura ceased his movements entirely.

As per usual… Shigaraki was overthinking. His confidence was a narrow road that branched off into even slimer alleyways. As sturdy as that narrow road was, there was always a branch that would fall and force you down one of those alleyways… Meaning, his descent into evergrowing subconscious doubt and anxiety was unavoidable.

“What are you doing?” Surprisingly, he had been the first to establish a conversation.

“Oh- I just…” My voice trailed into an empty silence- Thoughts caught in my mind without a method of expression, overflowing yet shoved underneath a heavy lid to block them within… Inert I stood, my brain crying at the lack of physical response to the situation I knew how to resolve; mouth clutching to the three words craving to be exempted.

I love you.

“You just…What?” He inquired, patience running thin as he finally turned the chair around to grant him proper access to observation, his red eyes unblinking as they gazed beyond his Father’s fingers with the expectation of a response.

Behind the hand, however, was a rather disparate version of perspective. One galvanized by a sickening feeling of culpability- He had reacted belatedly, somehow oblivious to what should have been the initial detail of notice.

Whether clear or not, he hadn’t meant to come across as demeaning or harsh.

To put it simply, to retain someone’s inclining companionship was something of a foreign concept to Tomura; granted… He had shaped relationships with each of the League members, and in doing so had established a familial bond with each of them- But these efforts were left in vain.

Tomura appreciated each of them respectfully… Yet they were unable to provide that pivotal sense in his stomach, the one that churned in angst at the absence of the one thing he desired most in this world.

Deep down… Underneath that searing rage and that psychotic semblance of what remained from Shigaraki’s youth… Was a boy, Tenko Shimura.

And that boy begged for love.

All For One, his Master, would gift Tomura anything he desired in return for obedience and success- Fortune, dominance, power, destruction; it all lay firmly within his grasp whenever he so asked for it.

But despite this, powerful or not, AFO was unable to provide that warmth and tenderness left absent in Tomura’s life… Substituting that tenderness with vile hatred and malice, masking his craving for love with horrendous acts of violence and disregarding every friendly advance with hostility; berating them without a second of consideration.

Love was a weak sorrow.

And yet all he wanted was to experience that tranquility.

Tomura had fallen into a desolate state of silence, his Father’s hand providing aid with obscuring the growing grimace tugging at his expression, heavily dissociated, eyes strawn to the computer screen though devoid of conscious thought about doing so.

He was in his bedroom, he was aware of that, but as his mind ran marathons it became more difficult to have that hold on reality.

Tomura thought that the warmth he suddenly felt was an incorporation of his imagination, like a sickening reminder of his loneliness and unloveable nature, a torterous choke of-

“Tomura…” A voice was all it took to separate him from his derealization.

That warmth… He was being… Hugged….?

“Tomura,” I recited.

The mental restraint had left him frail and miserable, almost as though his mind had returned to that unstable mindset of an abused child; fearful and desperate for comfort. His body melted against mine, accepting my hug in a heap of emotion, not returning it physically yet clearly inviting its gesture.

"I'm here Tomura, it's okay."

And in that instant the world merely ceased to halt… Offering whimsical time for him to truly accept the new affection.

“Y/N…” He fell silent the moment my name fell from his lips, as though in that instant his mind alerted him to panic, searching frantically for how best to continue.

I only smiled, and the air returned to a comfortable tune of silence.

“I love you,”

And his eyes closed.

The leader of the League Of Villains succumbed to a restful sleep in my arms. Finally at ease.

“I love you too, Tomura."

#shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #tomura shiragaki #bnha shigaraki #tomura shigaraki #tenko shimura #shigaraki tomura #my hero academia #bnha fluff #fanfiction #boku no hero academia #league of villains

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