the lost ground

House Rules (M)

Originally posted by nnochu

Summary: Frustration over recent political changes sets you off, and your loving husband helps you see the error of your ways.

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 7,492

Warning: Dom!Yoongi, husband/wife relationship, teasing, punishment, edging, ass play, dirty talk, political themes

A/N: I could probably add more warnings. Rest assured, this is not vanilla. Enjoy!

Keep reading

enbyrapunzel  asked:

So are you saying that I'm allowed to use daydreaming as a coping mechanism? Even though I'm an adult? I've been told that I need to grow out of that stuff but... I really miss creating my own worlds

After thoroughly investigating “maladaptive daydreaming” literature, I could find no actual evidence that daydreaming is, in itself, maladaptive!  The problem is usually a skill gap where the daydreamer ALSO doesn’t know how to deal with a problem.

A problem that occurs in countless other people who don’t daydream.

Meanwhile, my main area of study is complex trauma, which field is full of cases of, “This horrible trauma/neglect/deprivation should have totally fucked this person up and would have produced a human being incapable of anything resembling a normal life–but because they had a rich imagination and abundant inner resources, they were able to create an inner narrative that gave the safety, control, love, and meaning that their real life utterly lacked.”

So I was gonna say “ehh, I’m new to the field, IDK that I’m allowed to give anyone permission to anyone” but—

DREAM THE FUCK ON.  Learn to deal with real life too, but if daydreams are there for you to fall back on? DREAM.

ok listen

jiang wen and donnie yen right

for some reason i felt the need to let u know how they are both very attractive but in subtly different ways and i

my,, hand slipped

i cannot be held responsible

( ͡°( ͡° ͜ʖ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)ʖ ͡°) ͡°)

Rough Week?

We’ve all been there. Last week didn’t go so hot. It was one thing after another and we reached a bit of a breaking point. Sound familiar? I sort of had the mother of all bad weeks. Convenience ruled supreme. Motivation came to an absolute standstill. Shit hit the fan. The closest occurrence to exercise was pushing myself up from the face plant on my couch. I could go on and revel you in the 7-part saga that is this week, but let’s not because I’m ready now!

It Happens to Everyone: Before we get started on anything else just know that nothing is wrong with you, you weren’t weak, you didn’t fail, and while the emotions you feel might be intense you are neither alone nor wrong for having them. There are usually only so many red alerts we can have flash before our eyes before something has to give. But–there is no music to face. We’re all relating here. Just know that one day or one one week cannot undo several weeks, months, or years of taking better care of yourself. It’s totally normal. We’re all human.

Advise Against “Making Up” for Lost Ground: Treat the next day or week like it’s simply the next one succeeding the last one. Avoid eating and exercise behaviors that are too far removed from your typical habits. You’re trying to get back on track, not repent. OK? Not only does it tend to keep someone in a negative head space, but trying to pull out a massive comeback via overexertion or severe restriction can get you stuck in a feedback loop. You need to satisfy your hunger and workout normally. It’s just another normal day.  

Detox Products are Not the Answer: Your kidneys and liver do that. If they do not, be admitted to a hospital immediately. Detox products only empty your wallet and probably induce diarrhea. Drink plenty of water and choose foods high in fiber to work out the excess waste and water retention. Your body came equipped with all the goods it needed.

Choose Some Foods That Make You Feel Refreshed and Pampered: A huge part of the game is mental, so pick something that makes you feel a bit spoiled and frivolous. I’d probably be one to argue that putting slices of cucumber and lemon in your water is pretty gimmicky, but if that makes you feel revitalized and special; frickin’ do it. Try something new and make it about how fun fresh food can be! Be excited by something!

Do Exercise: Pick one of your favorite workout activities. It can be a bit overwhelming to get back into our routine after having a rough week, so it needs to be a fun one. If you’re still feeling overwhelmed or yucky, opt for some walks or low impact activities to ease back into it. Just like fresh foods, getting some activity and some sweat out will help with the mental and physical symptoms of going off-road.

shinydrop  asked:

Your idea for the Guide to the land of lost children reminds me a lot of maladaptative daydreaming. I don't know if you have heard of it, it's being studied by only a handful of mental health professionals. I think it was Eli Somer who first noticed it and coined the term, and I know he has published several articles about it. There's also several support groups for people who claim to suffer this condition on tumblr and other websites.

Apologies if maladaptive daydreaming resonates for you.

I’ve studied maladaptive daydreaming and I… kind of have to admit that I hate the concept?  “Maladaptive” is such a judgmental word. Like I’ve said, it was anti-daydreaming attitudes that made me give up the coping mechanism keeping me sane and nearly drove me to suicide. I don’t remember that period of my life very well but my journals from the time are VERY bleak. 

I also have journals of the time in grad school I ran across the “maladaptive daydreaming” research and basically screamed in anger and frustration and rage for two weeks straight.  There’s an EXTREME difference between “daydreams can be maladaptive, we need to address how to help this person deal with reality better” and what happens in the research, which is literally, “This person is psychologically fine except she daydreams a lot and feels weird about it; here is the medication cocktail we put her on that made the daydreams go away.”

Now as a psychologist I’m a narrative therapist with a keen interest in helping writers and artists, and the psychologist I see for my own therapy is a Jungian who works with dreams. In my personal life, I’m a writer and paracosmist. If there’s anything I can do with my life and career, it will be to challenge the psychological field’s phobia of daydreams and champion peoples’ innate creative ability to use their inner resources towards their own health.

If this isn’t Feyre’s theme song with being in the spring court then I don’t know what is.

Bird Set Free– Sia

Clipped wings, I was a broken thing
Had a voice, had a voice but I could not sing
You would wind me down
I struggled on the ground
So lost, the line had been crossed
Had a voice, had a voice but I could not talk
You held me down
I struggle to fly now

But there’s a scream inside that we all try to hide
We hold on so tight, we cannot deny
Eats us alive, oh it eats us alive
Yes, there’s a scream inside that we all try to hide
We hold on so tight, but I don’t wanna die, no
I don’t wanna die, I don’t wanna die

https://youtu.be/CqNp-KXiAHo

Fleet Air Arm Harrier FRS.1

During the Falklands War, Sea Harriers shot down 20 enemy aircraft during the conflict with one lost to enemy ground fire. They were also used to launch ground attacks in the same manner as the Harriers operated by the Royal Air Force.

@miss-americaxchavez highlights from the Lost Boys panel

-Greg Cannon talked about purposefully modelling Max in his vampire state after Joel Schumacher himself (Joel did catch on fairly quickly)

-Two separate stories about actors having to go to the hospital for rocks/gravel to the cornea (Keifer and Alex, respectively)

-Joel would regularly go beyond the hour shooting limit for scenes where the actors had to wear the sclera lenses and Greg would get PISSED

-Jamison recalls Keifer specifically saying before the beach massacre scene “what i want to do is I want to bite that bald guy right through his head” (followed immediately by the clip of Keifer biting that bald guy through his head)

-Ve straight up said her goal from the very beginning of her work bts was for everyone to go home wanting to sleep with the Lost Boys

2

January 27th 1945: Liberation of Auschwitz

On this day in 1945, the Auschwitz-Birkenau concentration camp in Poland was liberated by the Soviet Red Army. One of the most notorious camps of Nazi Germany, Jews and others persecuted by the Nazi regime were sent to Auschwitz from 1940 onwards. During its years in operation, over one million people died in Auschwitz, either from murder in the gas chambers or due to starvation and disease. As the war drew to a close and the Nazis steadily lost ground to the Allied forces, they began evacuating the camps and destroying evidence of the war crimes and crimes against humanity committed there. The leader of the SS, Heinrich Himmler, ordered the evacuation of the remaining prisoners at the camp as the Soviet Red Army closed in on the area. Nearly 60,000 prisoners from Auschwitz were forced on a march toward Wodzisław Śląski (Loslau) where they would be sent to other camps; some 20,000 ended up in the Bergen-Belsen camp in Germany. However, thousands died during the evacuation on the grueling marches, leading to them being called ‘death marches’. 7,500 weak and sick prisoners remained in Auschwitz, and they were liberated by the 322nd Rifle Division of the Soviet Red Army on January 27th 1945. Auschwitz remains one of the most powerful symbols of the Holocaust and the horrific crimes committed by the Nazi regime against Jews and numerous other groups.

No fuck this. A black woman, who has built an entire career on only outdoing herself, who shut down every avenue of the music scene, was pitted against a white woman, who, while is INSANELY talented in her own right, but didn’t exactly break the musical ground, just LOST AN AWARD THAT SHOULD HAVE BEEN HANDED TO HER ON A SILVER PLATTER! And the fact that she won the fucking URBAN award that I have literally never heard of before is just so fucking disgusting. Beyoncé is an artist. She is a ground breaker. She is what DEFINES THE MUSIC INDUSTRY! She. Creates. How. The industry works. I’m so furious right now.

The fact that the award had to be a tribute to an alive, capable, AMAZING, INDUSTRY DEFYING, black woman, instead of genuinely won by her is disgusting.

on trust and manipulation

Back in early high school, I knew a girl - we were kinda friends by virtue of having multiple friends in common, but in hindsight, she never much liked me - who had this purebred dog. I’d met him at her place, and he wasn’t desexed, which was pretty unusual in my experience, so it stuck in the memory. And one day, as we were walking across the playground, this girl - I’ll call her Felice - said to me, “Hey, so we’re going to start using my dog as a stud.” And I’m like, Oh? And she’s like, “Yeah, we’ve been talking to breeders, we’re going to get to see his puppies and everything,” and I made interested noises because that actually sounded pretty interesting, and she went on a little bit more about how it would all work -

And then, out of nowhere, she swapped this sly look with another girl, burst out laughing and exclaimed, “God, you’re so gullible. I literally just made that up. You’ll believe anything!”

And I was just. Dumbfounded. Because I was standing there, staring at them, and they were laughing like I was an idiot, like they’d pulled this massive trick on me, and all I could think, apart from why the fuck they felt moved to do this in the first place, was that neither of them knew what gullible means. Like, literally nothing in that story was implausible! I knew she had an undesexed, male, purebred dog! It made total sense that he be used for a stud! And it wasn’t like I was getting this information from a second party - the person who actually owned the dog was telling me herself! And I felt so immensely frustrated, because they both walked off before I could figure out how to articulate that gullible means taking something unlikely or impossible at face value, whereas Felice had told me a very plausible lie, and while the end result in both cases is that the believer is tricked, the difference was that I wasn’t actually being stupid. Rather, Felice had manipulated the fact that she occupied a position of relative social trust - meaning, I didn’t have any reason to expect her to lie to me - to try and make me feel stupid.

Which, thinking back, was kind of par for the course with Felice. On another occasion, as our group was walking from Point A to Point B, I felt a tugging jostle on my school bag. I didn’t turn around, because I knew my friends were behind me, and my bag was often half-zipped - I figured someone was just shoving something back in that had fallen out, or had grabbed it in passing as they horsed around. Instead, Felice steps up beside me, grinning, and hands me my wallet, which she’d just pulled out, and tells me how oblivious I was for not noticing that she’d been rifling my bag, and how I ought to pay more attention. This was not done playfully: the clear intent, again, was to make me feel stupid for trusting that my friends - which, in that context, included her - weren’t going to fuck with me. As before, I couldn’t explain this to her, and she walked on, pleased with herself, before I could try.

The worst time, though, was when I came back from the canteen at lunch one day, and Felice, again backed up by another girl, told me that my dad had showed up on campus looking for me. By this time, you’d think I’d have cottoned on to her particular way of fucking with me, but I hadn’t, and my dad worked close enough to the school that he really could’ve stopped in. So I believed her, a strange little lurch in my stomach that I couldn’t quite place, and asked where he was. She said he’d gone looking for me elsewhere, at another building where we sometimes sat, and so I hurried off to look for him, feeling more and more anxious as I wondered why he might be there.

I was halfway across campus before I let myself remember that my mother was in hospital.

I felt physically sick. My pulse went through the roof; I couldn’t think of a reason why my dad would be at school looking for me that didn’t mean something terrible had happened to my mother, that her surgery had gone wrong, that she was sick or hurt or dying. And when my dad wasn’t where she’d said he would be, I hurried back to Felice - who was now sitting with half our mutual group of friends - only to be met with laughter. She called me gullible again, and that time, I snapped. I chased her down and punched her, and the friends who’d only just arrived, who didn’t know what had happened or why I was reacting like that, instantly took her side. Noises were made about telling the rest of our friends what I’d done, and I didn’t want them to hear Felice’s version first, so I ran off to the library, where I knew they were, to tell them first.

I walked into the library. I found our other friends. I was shaky and red-faced, and they asked me what had happened. I told them what Felice had done, that I’d hit her for it, that my mother was in hospital for an operation - something I’d mentioned in passing over the previous week; multiple people nodded in recognition - and how I’d thought Felice’s lie meant that something bad had happened. And then I burst into tears, something I almost never did, because it wasn’t until I said it out loud that I realised how genuinely frightened I’d been. I sat down at the table and cried, and a girl - I’ll call her Laurel - who I’d never really been close to - who was, in fact, much better friends with Felice than with me - put her arm around my shoulders and hugged me, volubly furious on my behalf.

And then the other girls showed up, and Laurel said, with that particular vicious sincerity that only twelve-year-olds can really muster, “Prepare to die, Felice,” and I almost wanted to laugh, but didn’t. A girl who was a close friend, who’d come in with Felice, took her side, outraged that I’d punched someone, until Laurel spoke up about my mother being in hospital, and everyone went really quiet. Which was when I remembered, also belatedly, that Laurel’s own mother was dead; had died of cancer several years previously, which explained why she of all people was so angry. I have a vivid memory of the look on Felice’s face, how she tried to play it off - she said she hadn’t known about my mother, I pointed out that I’d mentioned it multiple times at lunch that week, and she lost all high ground with everyone.    

Felice never played a trick on me again.

Eighteen years later, I still think about these incidents, not because I’m bearing some outdated grudge, but because they’re a good example of three important principles: one, that even with seemingly benign pranks, there’s a difference between acting with friendly or malicious intent; two, that ignorance of context can have a profound effect on the outcome regardless of what you meant; and three, that getting hurt by people who abuse your trust doesn’t make you gullible - it means you’re being betrayed. 

And I feel like this is information worth sharing.  

TORONTO REPORTBACK: Big unexpected shout-out to the United Steel Workers and the teachers and other unionized workers who participated in today’s anti-racist counter-demo, y'all made a big difference in terms of everyone’s safety and success. Shoulder to shoulder with various organized socialists, anarchists, anti-racists and anti-fascists we were able to successfully surround and prevent (twice) the march of a far-right mob.

The opponents side was comprised of anti-Muslim hate groups/Alt-right woman-hating nerds/Trump fans in MAGA hats/what’s left of Soldiers of Odin, the JDL, “Proudboys”, and ‘don’t tread on us’ flag III%er militia types in camo and tactical vests. This time some of their side came with sticks, at least one bat (disarmed and confiscated by some of ours) and helmets, thinking they were gonna beat us up like in Berkley.

But shit luck they had cause we brought out 250+ and they brought ~60. At least 5 messy melees broke out today because of police incompetence or indifference, during which we seemed to give as good as we got overall and never lost ground.  Two or three arrests were made, seemed to be all on our side.

If you believe it, during all this a group of Muslim women and their dozen or so adorable children came and formed a circle and sang songs and chanted right at the barricade fence. As the day wore on and their march attempts were blocked, the right-wing dwindled down to ~35 and a line of riot cops formed up to allow the glum remains of their demo to escape out the north west corner and disperse. I was good with that ending but usually we’d all taunt them as they left and frustrate the dispersal, unfortunately only our crew and and a few other people figured out what was happening in time and went around the west building to flank the cops, so instead of a large crowd following their walk of shame it was like 12 people, but we saw inbound horses and called it a day.

Some interesting tactical lessons learned, good connections made, and conversations about where to go from here.“

The road less traveled
Gritty and graveled
Kicking up dust
Elsewhere…or bust
Freudian slip
Need a saline drip
Dropkickin’ tumbleweeds
Olly olly oxen freed 
Sacred burial ground
My lost baggage found
Walmart parking lot
X marks the spot
The only treasure
Is quickie pleasure
Grab and go
Whoops…too slow!

9

Ravenclaw House ♡

Clipped wings, I was a broken thing
Had a voice, had a voice but I could not sing
You would wind me down
I struggled on the ground, oh
So lost, the line had been crossed
Had a voice, had a voice but I could not talk
You held me down
I struggle to fly now, oh

But there’s a scream inside that we all try to hide
We hold on so tight, we cannot deny
Eats us alive, oh it eats us alive, oh
Yes, there’s a scream inside that we all try to hide
We hold on so tight, but I don’t wanna die, no
I don’t wanna die, I don’t wanna die, yeah

I’m not gon’ care if I sing off key
I find myself in my melodies
I sing for love, I sing for me
I shout it out like a bird set free

(Request)

The Green Island

Parring: Peter Pan X Reader

Word: 1421

Warning: none

Summary: Y/N is Peter’s Lost girl, and he isn’t exactly the boyfriend Y/N expected.

A/N: i’m not dead! I know i should write the next part of 3317, don’t worry, i will soon, i just really wanted to write this!

Originally posted by my-fxxfics

The stick moved easy over the ground, drawing a line from the end in the sand. The lines became a castle as they so often had before. Peter would soon come back and destroy it, as he so often had before.

You sighed, and looked around at the camp. Some of the boys were cooking dinner, some hunted, some fooled around, and Peter was out doing god knows what. He did that a lot, he was almost never at the camp anymore.

“it has its purpose” he had said when you had asked. “don’t ask again”

And you hadn’t. Not because you were scared, no. You had never been scared at Peter, not like anyone else had, he treasured you. Nobody dared curl a hair on your head, everybody knew what had happened to the boy who by accident had hit you with an arrow, sometimes you could still hear his scream in the dark night. Every time you asked Peter to let him go, forgive him, it was just an accident!

“nobody hurts my queen” Peter always said, and kissed your forehead.

You stood up, and started walking out of the camp. Peter wasn’t here, surely you could leave for just five minutes.

You knew the forest almost as well as Peter. All the times you had snuck out here, just for him to go after you, to spend a little quality time with your king.

The forest went on and on, but you didn’t mind, why should you? The forest was a nice place, it was as if even the plants was afraid of what Peter could do to them, and not dared hurt you.

A voice cut through the silence on Neverland, and you followed the sound. It didn’t take many steps for you, before you stood in front of a group.

“hello” you said, all of them turning to you. There were five, a woman with long blonde hair, a woman with dark shoulder length, and one with short black hair. There were also two men, a blonde and a dark haired, the last one had a hook instead of one of his hands. Captain Hook no doubt, Peter had told you about him, you had never meet him however, until now.

“welcome to Neverland! “you said with a smile, but none of the adults returned it.

“who are you? “the women with shoulder length dark hair said, no doubt a leader.

“I’m Y/N, and you are? “you asked, looking at them.

“wait, Y/N? “the blonde one said and took a step towards you. “as in The Golden Castle Y/N? “

“I’m sorry to disappoint, but I only lived in one place before this island, and it was no castle for sure” you said with a smile. Again, nobody returned it. You waited for an answer to your earlier question, but they didn’t seem to want to give it.

“so, what brings you to Neverland? “you asked. “it’s not most people who choose this place for a holiday”

“it doesn’t concern you” the one with the shoulder length hair said.

“we’re looking for someone” the women with short black hair said, and you nodded. You had a feeling of who it was. “maybe you can help us, do you know where Peter Pan is? “

You opened your mouth to response, but never got to. A loud noise made you turn around, and you saw a lot of birds flying up from the forest, their voices ringing through the trees.

“that’s my sign” you said, and looked back at them. “sorry, but it was nice to meet you! “

 

The five adults watched you disappearing through the trees, before four of them turned to the last.

“what’s the golden castle? “Mary-Margaret asked Emma.

“it’s a fairy-tale” Emma said.

“about that girl there? “Regina asked, and Emma nodded. “well, tell us! “

“it’s about a poor girl called Y/N, that lives in a village with her younger sister” Emma started telling. “but one day an evil witch finds them, and kills her younger sister. Y/N is of course crushed when she finds out, and she runs out in the woods, where a prince finds her. He gets sympathy, and offers her a place at the castle, but of course the prince falls in love with her, her with him, and they get married”

“a poor girl that marries a prince and become princess, where have I seen that before?” Regina said sarcastic.

“that’s the point of this fairy-tale, this is the beginning” Emma said, and the forest became quiet, as if everything waited for Emma to continue the story.

 

“where have you been?! “Peter asked angry, and you turned around to watch him. You were on your way back, but of course Peter wanted to talk private first.

“I took a walk” you said, not looking him in the eyes. “nothing happened, I’m fine”

He held a hand out, and turned your head to look at him. his forest green eyes meet yours Y/E/C, and suddenly it was just you two.

“I don’t know what I would do if something happened to you… “he said in a quiet voice.

“I know” you replied, and he leaned down to let his lips meet yours.

 

“Y/N is not what people expect of a princess” Emma continued her fairy-tale. “she wants to go on adventures, explore the world, but the prince won’t let her. He keeps her in the castle with nothing to do but what he expects princesses to do, stare at gold”

“he wants princesses to sit and stare at gold all day? “David asked, and Emma nodded.

“well, I’m glad you’re not like that” Mary-Margaret said to her husband, trying to sound joking.

“how does she escape? “Regina asked, making them all look at Emma.

“she doesn’t”

 

“Peter stop” you said, showing his hand off your arm.

“no! “he said. “you can’t leave this camp, I won’t let you! It’s not safe! “

“I can take care of myself! “you said angry. This argument happened far too often, and you both knew exactly what the other would say next.

“but you don’t need to! “he said, following the script down to every detail. “the boys and i can protect you, you don’t have to do it yourself! “

“you can’t keep me a prisoner! “you said angrily, knowing this wouldn’t last much longer.

“oh yes, I can! “he said, and you widened your eyes. He had never threatened you before.

“what? “you asked in a whisper, not being sure you had heard correctly.

“I said” he took a step towards you, so you had to tilt your head back to look him in the eyes. “yes. I. can! “

 

“what do you mean she doesn’t escape? “Mary-Margaret asked.

“I mean she doesn’t escape” Emma said, looking at her mother. She had never liked the story, and had felt relived when there was no Y/N in Storybrooke, now it turned out she was here. “she wants to, but right before she does it, the prince lock her up in the castle”

“but all fairy-tales has a happy ending! “David argued. He had always trusted his story to have a happy ending, to live happily ever after, that was how it should be.

“except this one” Emma said, her eyes dark by the thought of the story.

 

“LET ME OUT! “you screamed, but nobody answered. The wooden bars were rough under your hands, the cage swinging in the air. You could see two lost boys on the ground, but they were too far away for you to recognize them.

It wouldn’t make any difference, all the boys feared Peter, no one would dare to cross him. Before it had been nice, feeling so safe, but now you were a prisoner, trapped in a cage like all of his’ enemies.

“Please… “you begged quiet, letting go of the bars, feeling a single tear run down your cheek.

You had never been afraid of Peter, why should you? He had only protected you. He still wanted to protect you, and he thought he did just that. But you didn’t feel protected, you felt scared. Scared of the boy you loved.

Oh, what a horrible feeling. Fearing someone you loved. Wanting to run so far away you possible could, but also wanting to throw yourself into their arms. Oh, what a horrible feeling, being trapped on the green island you once had ruled with your king, calling it your kingdom.