#Mindset Changing Trainer

[englandcoaching]

Embrace Movement for a Healthier, Happier You!

  If you have ben following my blog you’ll find I’m very pro-movement. Not only because It has helped myself and the thousands of individuals I’ve helped take back their life through pain, injury, and physical limitations; but because there’s global research that also backs up this seemingly “magic health supplement” called exercise. I have attached previous writing linked with additional…

[orcinus-veterinarius]

Learning anything about marine mammal training will make you re-evaluate so much of your relationship with your own pets. There is so much force involved in the way we handle domestic animals. Most of it isn’t even intentional, it just stems from impatience. I’m guilty of it myself!

But with the exception of certain veterinary settings where the animal’s health is the immediate priority, why is it so important to us that animals do exactly what we want exactly when we want it? Why do we have to invent all these tools and contraptions to force them to behave?

When a whale swam away from a session, that was that. The trainer just waited for them to decide to come back. If they flat out refused to participate in behaviors, they still got their allotment of fish. Nothing bad happened. Not even when 20-30 people were assembled for a procedure, and the whale chose not to enter the medical pool. No big deal. Their choice and comfort were prioritized over human convenience.

It’s almost shocking to return to domestic animal medicine afterwards and watch owners use shock collars and chokers and whips to control their animals. It’s no wonder that positive reinforcement was pioneered by marine mammal trainers. When you literally can’t force an animal to do what you want, it changes your entire perspective.

I want to see that mindset extended to our domestic animals.

[theemporium]

Could you do a smut-berry daiquiri with #6 for oscar piastri? I love your writing so much!! 💕

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

6. “I’m going to fuck out every last thought out of this pretty little head.”

.

Formula One was all about control.

Being a good driver meant having good control over the car, over your strategy, over your mindset the second the wheels hit the track. It meant being in control of your emotions and your thoughts. It meant being hands on and always switched on and having every passing thought being about the car and the race and achieving the most out of the weekend. 

And fuck, sometimes it was exhausting. 

It was stupid to complain about because this was his dream, this was everything he had trained and raced and worked his way up to. And he wouldn’t change it for the world. He really wouldn’t. But Formula One was more intense than any of the previous championships he raced in or anything he had ever experienced before. 

Everything was on his shoulders. The engineers were constantly asking him questions to make sure the car was fit to drive. The trainers were constantly passing new routines and diets by him to make sure he was healthy. The strategists were asking him about tire compounds and pit stop calls and lap times. The media team was always asking him to film videos for this sponsorship or that platform.

Sometimes, it was just all too much and Oscar just wanted to switch his brain off, to let someone else take control, to be the one in the passenger seat for once.

“Hm, look at you,” you cooed as you ran your hand through his hair, pushing it back and taking in his flushed cheeks and glossy eyes. “Look so pretty like this, Osc.” 

“Shit,” he whined, his eyes fluttering shut as he felt your other hand lightly trace down his stomach, his abs softly clenching at the sensation. “Please.”

“You’re being so good f’me,” you hummed, grinning a little at the way his hips bucked like he was looking for some friction. “Hardly even touched you and you’re already so fucked out.” 

Oscar blinked his eyes open, blood roaring in his ears and heart thumping wildly in his chest. “Wanna feel you.” 

“Yeah?” You questioned, your eyes darkening as you watched him nod instantly in response. Your gaze wandered down his body, the way he had practically melted into the mattress from the two orgasms you had wrung out of him already with the small toy that was abandoned somewhere between the sheets. He looked like a fucking dream, laid out and still in his boxers that were an absolute mess now. “Say it properly, baby. Ask nicely.”

His cheeks burned, his thoughts feeling slow and syrupy as he tried not to whine at the loss of your hand in his hair. “I…”

“C’mon, baby,” you cooed, soft and encouraging and, fuck, it went straight to his dick. “Be a good boy and use your words.” 

“I wanna—” He choked out when he felt your palm cupping his length over his boxers, squeezing him softly. “I wanna be inside you, please. I wanna come inside you.” 

“See, wasn’t that easy?” You grinned, sweet and condescending and it shouldn’t have thrilled him as much as it did. You palmed the heel of your hand against his bulge, listening to the way he whimpered and cried out and tried to lift his hips for more. “Good boys get what they want when they ask nicely.”

“M’good,” Oscar whined, his eyes glossy and dazed over and he just looked at you with so much trust, it made your chest tight. “Please, I’ve been so good.”

“Of course you have,” you hummed as your fingers gripped the waistband of his boxers, tugging the material down until it was thrown somewhere on the ground amongst the rest of your clothes. You straddled his lap, just hovering over him as you leaned down to squish his cheeks in your hand. “I’m going to fuck out every last thought out of this pretty little head.”

“Fuck,” Oscar moaned, breathless and whiny before you leaned down to kiss his pouted lips. 

“It’s what my good boy deserves for getting on the podium.”

.

[sashiavi]

✧˚·.SashiAvi's Kinktober Day Five.·˚✧

#5|Stuck/Stuckage|#5

Alex x Reader - Word Count - 3.3k

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Now. How exactly did you end up here? – Stuck half-in the cubed lockbox attached to the bottom of the bath house lockers, the metal snug around your shoulders in your attempt to reach, your knees bent into a crawl and aching in protest as they press against the cold tile floor of the locker room.

Well. It starts with one of your regular sessions with Alex at the bathhouse, the man taking up the impromptu role of a personal trainer, guiding you through the wonders of working out.

Farmwork was a tricky business, it made sense to build up your body for your own sake, avoiding any long lingering aches and pains. All it took was your own questioning about the weight set in his room before the man was dragging you up to the gym residing in the facility. 

He prided himself on his physicality - That mindset bordering on toxic positivity - Rise and grind.. Or something. Truthfully the way he managed to slurp down a whole raw egg was a sight to see, and usually one you cared not to view. But his passion was endearing, cute even, a sparkle twinkling in his eye at the premise of having a buddy to work out with. You weren’t entirely sure of how exactly you felt about the man.

Was he cute? Handsome? Charming? Just how much did you like him.. What kind of like even was it? In another world, he seemed like the stereotypical jock type. Uncaring and maybe even cruel. Giving no attention to anyone outside of his own circle. 

But that wasn't him at all, was it? Considerate and willing to help, gentle despite the thick muscles adorned on his body.

You arrived together as you usually did, splitting up at the door before you entered into the designated locker rooms, changing clothes, prepping yourself all ready to meet up in the middle on the other side, like clockwork. Except there's no squeak of your gym shoes against the tile, a lack of kinetic vibrance that Alex was rather quick to notice.

You weren't there.

Instead, he hears a yelp and a swear of profanity, breaking his concentration from the flex of his muscles in the mirror, your voice calling from the other side of the wall. He hears you groan, muffled and echoed, bouncing around, grating like metal. Cogs work in his brain, churning and turning with curiosity. He shouldn't.. Should he? Alex doesn't think for much longer before he makes way for the ladies' locker room, easily entering through the cut-out entrance. Something right in the very back of his mind chirps at him, about decency and maybe the implications of a man waltzing into a private space like this- But, call him concerned.

You hear Alex’s footsteps, a little squeaky, the grip on the bottom of his shoes catching on to the slick tile with every push of his feet. You wiggle and squirm, cursing the manufacturers of the locker, fighting the stinging scream of your shoulders at your attempt to pull yourself out. You did not, in fact, fit in the square hole. 

Yoba, you were embarrassed, trapped within the confines of the cubic space, face down ass up with nowhere to run, as if you were stuck in some kind of cheap porn script written by some lazy author. 

God, at least you were decent, gym shorts saving your dignity. You never meant to get stuck like this, obviously- But you couldn't help your water bottle taking a tumble to the floor and choosing to roll into one of the open lock boxes, you had to save the poor thing yourself. You just didn't expect the damned box to have so much depth to it, didn’t think you’d trap yourself inside, had at least a little faith that your limbs would squeeze and cooperate to get yourself free easy-peasy. You supposed the spirits were displeased today. Maybe even finding amusement at your pitiful predicament.

“Uhhh..” Alex’s voice drawls in an awkward, questioning hum, muffled through the rusted metal walls of the lockbox. You can imagine the look on his face, head quirked with a scrunch to his brow, those deep green eyes squinting in confusion. “What.. Are you doing?”

“Alex-!” You squirm, hissing at the ache in your joints, the hearty creak in your bones at your attempts to wiggle free. You must look like a fool. “Can you..- Can you help me?” You ask, a little timid in your tone, feeling your upper body starting to get clammy, hyperaware at just how tight the space really was.

Alex wasn't fairing much better.

His gaze locked on your rear, watching the cut legs of your cloth gym shorts ride up your thighs with all of that squirming, legs spread wide apart while you rested on your knees, back arched all the way down for your torso to fit into the small space. Your feet rest on your ankles, chunky sneakers with socks pulled up your calves, framing them with a subtle squish by the sock elastic, looking cute and sporty- If he looked hard enough, he's sure he can see the outline of lace hugging the supple swell of the mound of your-

“Alex.” You call out desperately, snapping the brunette out of his thoughts. “Please.” You’re begging on your hands and knees here – Literally.

“Right-! Right yeah..” He shuffles over, gulping a thick swallow of saliva that dared to pool up under his tongue, hands open and moving awkwardly, hovering over your form here, there and everywhere. Does he grab your hips? The curve of your waist? Press his warm and clammy palms into the thick of your thighs and drag you by your legs? “How..?” He feels stupid for asking.

“I don’t know, just.. Grab me?” You were short with him, frustrations bubbled up by nothing but your own predicament and the fact that you had managed to get yourself stuck like that.

Alex rests a hand on both of your hips, warm against your chilled bare hip bone, shirt risen up, hidden skin exposed to the cool, damp locker room air thanks to your squirming. His fingers were long, easily wrapping around and digging into the tender spot of your pelvis, giving a tender squeeze into it. Your body tenses up with a surprised jolt, a squeak chirped off of your lips and a scold right on the edge of your tongue.

You can only imagine the position, and Alex was lucky enough to see it; Crouched between your spread legs with an eye full of your behind, hands on your hips in such a compromising position, flooding his brain full of dirty, dirty ideas. There's a strain in his pants, the telltale pulse of blood gushing up into the plum-pink tip of his cock, pressing uncomfortably on the tight seam of his shorts. He feels the thick vein on his undershaft throb, raring to go with just a little touch to your body. 

“Do I just, like.. Pull?” Alex smacks his lips, trying to be useful, looking at the wall of the locker, trying to find a way out.

“I guess?” You shimmy again, squirmy in his hold, making his fingers twitch with the hot urge to hold you down and still. The more you shift the harder it is to think straight, watching and feeling your body move under him, at the mercy of him. He was in control right now. In control of you. 

“Okay..” He starts with a gentle tug, feeling out the tightness of your situation, trying to gently ease you from the confines of the space. He finds himself leaning over your body in some sort of attempt at getting the best grip on you, subsequently pressing his groin right into your ass. The thick press of his boner kissing a grind on your clothed cunt, urging up his own creak of a groan.

“Alex.. are you-?” Your eyes widen in the darkness, thighs tensing in a pitiful attempt to close and snap shut. You can't deny the heat of the situation, feeling awfully exposed and on display, not having a say in where his eyes land, where those hands touch, all dark and muffled inside the locker. You can’t stop the squeak of a noise you make, overwhelmed at the premise of Alex being on top of you-

Poor Alex. He honestly panics, tugging at you with a newfound gusto in an attempt to distract you, to free you. But he immediately regrets it, hearing you squeak and squeal, telling him to “wait wait wait-” huffing at the sting of metal uncooperative with your body. His hands feel like they’ve burnt you, seared into your skin- not to mention his little friend down there, saying a cheeky peek-a-boo against your supple, clothed folds.

The brunette feels a spike of adrenaline, a shock at the idea of actually causing some sort of hurt towards you, his hands slipping with his grip. 

It's honestly almost comical.

Feeling Alex's fingers hook into your waistband as he fumbles, yanking down your shorts in an easy motion, fully exposing everything you had to offer up hugged behind your half-off panties. The thin fabric of your underwear was the only thing keeping up any ounce of dignity you had left. You thought it couldn't get any worse? Well it has now.  

“Fuck- Shit sorry-” Alex cuts off with a sigh, seeing your shorts pool at the bend of your spread knees, your panties half off of your ass, showing off a peak of your goods, that darker line running down between your cheeks. He swallows again, his hand daring to find itself on your ass cheek, fingers spread and palm flat, shamelessly squishing in an inappropriate grope.

“A..Alex-” You warn, as if you weren't sinking your teeth into your tender bottom lip. He breathes your name back, veiny hands soothing and squishing, exploring over the expanse of your ass, down, down until he hits the drooled-up wet fabric poorly covering your pussy.

You should kick him- Shout and squirm and knock him off of his feet but- Yoba, his touch burned hot, coursing a warm pulse throbbing on the bud of your clit. “P..Please..” What were you begging for? God knows. But Alex snatches up what you put down for him.

He wastes no time, pulling down the elastic of your panties, letting them fall down your thighs, fabric stretching with the spread, nestling nice and pretty with your dangling shorts. You moan out a soft hum, eyes rolling back in the darkness, brain working in overdrive trying to paint the pretty picture. Arched beautifully for him, legs spread so wide, rendered useless in this position, right for him to hold on to, use as some kind of leverage for- Fuck.

You hear a hot spit of his lips and feel a fat glob of saliva land on your folds.

The brunette suckles on his own fingers, coating them up in a thick sheen over saliva, tongue swirling around his own digits at the sight of your bare and supple cunt. He had to get in you, needed it. Needed to feel the velvety wrap of your cunt on- Yoba, anything of his. 

He pops his fingers out with a vulgar wet noise, raking them through your drippy pussy lips, only adding to the dribbly wetness between your legs. Another spatter of saliva, thick, spitty and bubbly white, sliding down through your folds like a sweet teardrop. He breathes your name again, head cotton stuffed, barely asking you for permission before he was easily slipping in two of his fingers, knuckle deep right into the doughy swell of your hole.

“Fuck..” He’s a man of many words, clearly. Your slick pools against his knuckles, already forming a thick ring of cream around his fingers. He’s slow at first, marvelling at the way your pussy suckles him in, how warm and supple you were on his digits, so fucking soft against the rough calloused paw of his hand. In and out. In. And. Out. Carefully pushing two fingers into your cunt hole, twisting his wrist to dive them in, soft and slow with a thick curl at the end of his push.

You seem to gasp every time. Soft little noises sucked in and pushed out with each tender curl of his fingers. He can't help but watch in awe, jaw slack and lips parted, sun-kissed face burning into a blush of red. He speeds up, eyes widening at the newfound squelch against his knuckles, echoing around the tiled room.

“A-Alex.. Just- Hahh.. Just fuck me! I need it- please?” Yoba, you don’t know why this was driving you so crazy, never before having the thought cross over your mind- Feeling like some helpless free-use toy. But you were thinking with your gut, the dumb thing connected to the throb of your clit, influencing your sense deprived brain, craving more, more touch more of him. More of Alex.

“Fuck- Okay. okayokay- S’okay m’ gonna fuck you…- gonna fuck you now-” He all but babbled, nervous and fast in tone, completely ignoring the previous pressing issue of getting you out. Now all in favour of drilling himself in.

His cock is quickly freed. Tip dark and angry with arousal, leaking out little pearls of pearlescent precum, crying out for the sweet wrap of your pussy. He jerks himself off, wetting his length with your juices, letting the thick vein throb against the delicious sticky kiss of your cunt. He finds himself tapping his cock over the slick-wet folds of your achy cunt, slap, slap, slap, sliding through your wetness while he jerks himself.

He sighs out in awe at the sweet jumps you give, each flinch and feeble attempt to push back on him. You weren't faring any better in there. Imagination running rampant, stuck in a twisted sensory deprivation chamber, dark and warm, blind to Alex’s actions, giving him surprised jolts and jumps with every touch.

He lets the dark pink mushroom tip of his dick push in, just the tip- Juust the tip – Huffing a short groan when it pops out of your cunt with a dirty-wet sound, forcing the man to grit his teeth tight. He keeps it up, letting the thick, weepy pudge of his cock head catch on your hole, choking a groan behind his teeth every time it slips back out.

You squirm against the confines of your little box prison, about to whine out another beg before Alex beats you to it. His hand holds your hip, nice and steady as if it could move at all right now. He talks you through it, breathing out babbled praises, reassurances, oddly sweet despite the vulgar scene. Ohh, but when he finally sinks into you, pushing deeper, deeper, deeper! Thick tip kissing lovingly at the swell of your cervix, nestled nice and snug in your guts.

“Al..ex..” Yoba, it's the only word you know, it seems. A Chant easily dropping off of your tongue, murmured around the walls of the locker you’d stuck yourself in,

You’re not the only one. Alex can’t help but breathe out your name, again and again falling off of his lips like drool while he sinks into your cunt. Finally, finally feeling the sweet swell of your cunt enveloped the fat length of his cock, silky soft walls hugging on him. You squeeze- 

How could he keep his hips still like this? Why bother at all? He surely doesn’t.

The brunette rolls his hips into your ass, rolling his eyes with his own movement, relishing in the gushy snuggle of your walls on his cock. He finds himself mindlessly rocking his thick cock into your silky pussy, humping his hips against your ass like some kind of mutt in heat. His hands wrap around the lovely spread of your thighs, hooking under, using you as leverage and careful as he can, using your pussy like a special toy, tender with his grinding rolls.

He can feel you attempt to give it back, trying your best to hump back on his lap, take him down deeper, kissing your folds on his base, letting those wiry hairs brushed over his lap get all sticky-slick. His mouth falls open at the sight, stringy, creamy, frothy- a mess in his lap all drooled by your cunt, wet pussy kisses with each rolling fuck of his hips.

A heavy breath makes its way through his nose, eyes hyper-focused on the pretty, creamy ring around his length as he fucks his hips against you, watching the mess slowly leak its way onto his pants loosely dropped down his waist. An ache builds in his pelvis, the thick vein pulsing on the underside of his cock.

You felt mindless, stuck in the warm darkness, humid with your own breath, skin tacky and moist, joints aching, back pinching but fuck- You couldn’t care less. Not with the heat between your legs, or the praises and promises babbled by the man behind you. Yoba, especially not with the way he moves to mount up on you, soft fucks turned hearty and thick, clapping hard, pelvis slapping into your ass and pussy.

He fucks you. Holding you nice and steady for his hips to snap, finishing off each and every thrust with a roll to his hips, jabbing the pudge of his tip into the supple, mushy little spot inside of you. Alex eyes the pretty ripple of your ass clapping on his pelvis, whimpering deep in his throat with how juicy and gushy your cunt was on his length. 

I was all so much. For both of you-

His hips snap, pace faltering, clapping his hips in heated but sloppy staccatos, dragging his cock out and slamming right back in with a wet smack of his hips. You cry with every thrust, muffled and echoed against the walls of the lockbox, silky cunt squeezing on his tip, babbling his name over and over and over.

“Shit- Babe-!” He throws out the name and fuck, it feels right. It's all over when his fingers dare to come forth, rubbing tight circles into your sticky clit, twiddling with the little thing, making you tighten-

Oh it's a dangerous game, feeling the supple milk of your pussy, squeezing on his length in those sweet pulses while you cream- He has to pull out- Fuck, gotta cum-

The poor guy barely makes it, spilling onto your weepy cunt, jerking himself off over your back, letting ropey spurts of hot cum land in spatters over your skin. Of course he keeps his other hand up, circling your clit feverishly in the same pattern he strokes off his cock, working you both through those tender orgasms you’d brought upon each other- 

It’s all hot breaths, panting hard, chest heaving with the comedown. Oh poor you, achy legs still all stuck, sweaty body slippery against the squeeze of metal. Alex notices in his haze, scooping you into his arms, uncaring of the sticky, musky splashes of cum stained over your back. He hushes you, huffing a chuckle into your neck when he finally gets you free!

“Hi..” You groan, falling into his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck, daring to stretch your legs with a wobbly twitch, cramping hard in your calf.

“Hey.” He blinks, hand already working to soothe your poor muscles, massaging warmth into your skin, on fire compared to the freezing floor tiles.

“So..” The brunette bites into his bottom lip, kissing his teeth with a pondering tut before he turns to properly face you, flashing a teeth-filled, goofy grin.

“How about a bath?” 

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Thank you so much for reading! If you have any thoughts please let me know! I'd love to hear them <3 your words spur my heart on!

Property of : SashiAvi

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[multiplicationdivision]

A Marathon in His Shoes

Charles had come to him in a panic this morning, donned in a different body and personality. He’d gotten some pair of boots from a second-hand store and been transformed into a middle-aged man, complete with a dadly outfit and mindset. Amir had barely believed the crazy DILF until Charles had pulled on another pair of shoes from the store, transitioning into a tired looking college bro the second the dirty nikes hit his feet, the transformation complete with a bout of gen-z slang Amir could barely understand.

They’d spent the rest of the morning ferrying a number of pairs of shoes back to Amir’s place from the Goodwill. Whatever seemed like it would create an interesting outcome. Amir had gotten his flickering light fixed when a pair of work boots made Charles a well experienced electrician. Charles had been able to explain literal rocket science when a pair of very worn sneakers transformed him into some NASA scientist. Charles had even abided by the guy’s NDAs, seemingly unable to shrug off that ingrained level of discipline.

Charles had come to him because no matter what he tried, the guy couldn’t become himself again. Every pair of Charles’ collection of sneakers left him the man he’d been transformed into, nothing of his nerdy self-returning. It was a problem that had fortunately been readily forgotten with the slew of fun that the guy was having, trying on a slew of personalities like they were costumes. Egged on by Amir who was similarly having a blast, running around his house as Charles became a host of random men.

The problem arose again in the evening though. The fun dissipating from Charles’ mood as time went on, especially with the onset of the weirdly toxic gym bro mindset. That and how disgusting sweaty clothes felt when the sweat never seemed to evaporate. Each body was stuck in the state it had been when the shoes had last been worn and most of his bodies weren’t in the greatest state. Charles seemed uncomfortable in most of them, despite the excitement.

“Theres still one pair of shoes you haven’t tried, you know” Amir said, walking to his shoe rack in another room. Atop it sat his other pair of trainers, identical to the ones he’d wore currently. Neon yellow where his were orange.

“Wait really?” Came Charles’s currently testosterone deep reply, edging with the frustration that his current muscular body always seemed filled with. “Hell yeah man” Amir said, quickly slipping both on before taking them off again and returning to his orange pair. Refreshing their state. 

He headed back to the sweaty man in his living room, handing Charles the trainers. “Put these on” he demanded.

Charles and Amir had known each other for years. They’d done everything together, seen every part of each other. High school to a college frat to working gigs, they were more comfortable with each other than they were with themselves.

Charles studied them against the natural instinct of his current body, forcing his steroid dulled gym bro personality to focus on the clean sneakers in his dirty muscular hands. The Charles in the guy cutting through the tense anger of his body, shooting a slightly surprised expression shot back at Amir. Amir was never one to share, especially something so deep as this.

Charles was stuck as someone else. That seemed to be the deal. Completely unable to return to a state that was just him, loving little shit as he was. Charles couldn’t go back to the man that was honest with every fraction of his life, laying himself bare to Amir. Amir wasn’t vulnerable like that, always anxious to expose the parts of himself that he was so terrified of.

He found himself giving his pair of prized trainers anyways. It made too much sense. Every other body that Charles wore fit awkwardly on him, the personalities fighting the stranger that slipped them on. Charles himself seemed wary of the ways they changed him, no matter how fun spouting facts and skills was. He couldn’t trust them, but he could trust Amir.

“Really?” Charles asked nervously, looking at his fidgeting best friend. Amir nodded despite his nerves, terrified yet oddly excited. This was an extreme way of bonding, baring his life and soul to a friend. It felt right though.

Charles shrugged off the dirty sneakers still saturated with sweat and slipped on Amir’s sneakers over the gym bro’s damp socks. The man shivering as his body shifted, his musculature decreasing as the sweaty clothes warped into a reflection of Amir’s outfit. The odor of BO becoming pleasant as Amir’s aftershave and cologne now wafted off of two bodies.

Charles’ nervousness at Amir’s gesture twisted into relaxation as Amir’s personality fit comfortably against his. The slump of his shoulders as the tension evaporated made Amir feel warm, his own anxious energy dissipating itself as Charles appeared to fully relax into his new body.

“Damn you feel good” Charles said and Amir couldn’t even muster a thanks, distracted as Charles felt out his new limbs with a smile. Amir had a slew of insecurities about his own body, anxious that he wasn’t smart enough, jack enough, attractive enough. Those worries seemed insane now, watching his friend truly enjoy it all, as if it was a comfy blanket.

“You all good Amir?” his own voice said to him, peering through Amir’s faltering insecurities. “You just wear my body well” he replied, voice low as his heart beat faster and faster. Charles got closer and Amir could see a uniquely Charles smile form on Amir’s lips.

“I think it fits me better than my original one” Charles admitted, his eyes traveling over every bit of Amir’s body that were now his. He had every bit of Amir’s life in his mind so he knew what Amir intended.

If Charles needed a new body that he could feel good in, Amir’s was his. Amir was willing for the man to have everything from him, because Amir wanted Charles to have everything. Amir had wanted that for so long, and it was overwhelming to hear the flirtation now focused on him.

“Always loved your arms you know” Charles said, tracing the lines of his hands. “Felt them around me in college and I never really wanted that to end”. Amir wanted nothing more than to tackle the man at that, fall together on his shitty couch.

“Was pretty wary about your new hair, honestly” Charles continued with a laugh as he felt the buzzed sides. “Thought your shaggy mess was cute, but I’ll admit that this has grown on me”, he said, breaking some boundary between the two of them as he compared the prickly sensation of his hair with Amir’s identical sides, his hand caressing Amir’s undercut. It should’ve felt the same as when Amir touched it, but there was too much of his best friend in this. It lit his nerve endings up like fire. “Liked it so much that I wanted a cut to match, but I think I like this more”

“What are you doing Charles?” Amir said, feeling something fundamentally shifting in how they would go forward. That was bound to happen when you gave your body and soul though.

“I used to be mad about being shorter than you, you know” Charles said as he pulled close to him, the scent of Amir’s toothpaste on his breath. “I was mad about how you were better at basketball and getting things from high shelves, sure.” He paused, like he was himself being honest for the first time.

“I think I was mostly mad that I couldn’t kiss you” he said with a final gentle move, pressing his lips into their twin. It felt like electricity, all the shock and want shooting from Amir into Charles. He didn’t kiss like Amir, all full of devouring need for more. Not held back at all by the hesitation of his current body, infecting Amir himself with an aspect of Charles.

Amir felt himself truly open up to this man. Let Charles take over as they fell to the couch. The man used his knowledge of Amir’s life against him, drawing from his fantasies with finesse, pressing down on his shoulders with a fervor that belied fucking years of mutual tension. Charles held both his and Amir’s collection of memories fantasizing about each other and Amir found himself stuffling a laugh as they tumbled across each other.

“You could have kiss me” he choked out, gasping as Charles wormed his way down past his boxers, hand already clasped around his cock like Amir liked it, just the right amount of pleasure. “Just cause I was taller than you didn’t mean it would’ve been that difficult” he joked, using his own weaknesses against Charles as he groped the guy’s own cock beneath his jeans, knowing how the sensation of his boxers against his cock would drive the man wild. As predicted, the man was caught between his own choked laugh, eyes widening as he tried to compose himself.

They played a game together. “You cannot judge me you mountain” Charles gasped as Amir pulled own his pair of Amir’s favorite jeans. “I have my own hangups too you know-“ he just about said, before Amir teased his hard dick with his lips.

“Get used to being a mountain ‘Amir’ ”, Amir said playfully, leaving Charles to look almost offended at his new strange pet name before the guy whimpered at the feeling of Amir’s full devotion to his cock, calling upon years of TMI from his best friend about what he liked in sex. Amir remembered right, Charles going limp as Amir blasted his neurons. It made him want to further blast the guy’s brain, feeling Charles’ moans rendered in his Amir’s husky voice.

Charles came in his mouth and on his shirt. It was exactly how his cum was from his curious years as a teenager, ropey salty fluid across his tongue. Charles seemed all the more desperate to get a taste himself, quick to return the favor. Pulled himself down to Amir’s precum wet jeans and tore down the boxers Charles likely remembered buying like he’d done so himself. They still both wore their trainers, the rubber soles knocking across each other as the two repositioned so Charles could get his fill.

“Hope you feel exactly what I felt fucker” Charles demanded, using Amir’s own technique against him. The rhythm and motion that he knew Charles loved was now turned on him, the feeling better than every fuck he’d had before. Charles seemed to use his own very recent experience in feeling it in Amir’s own body to perfect it on the man’s own cock, modifying it to strike at the right nerves at just the right time.

Hot tears flowed down Amir’s face when he came, feeling the cum spurt nearly identically across Charles’ shirt, making them a mirror again. Two men with their bodies a mess of sweat, identical pairs of jeans and boxers pushed to their ankles as they lay slumped on top each other on a truly shit couch.

“Holy fuck was that better than everything we’d both hoped for” Charles breathlessly exclaimed; his breath warm against Amir’s face. He likely knew, having Amir’s whole life at his fingertips. That large breach of privacy was becoming so much less terrifying at the sheer potential of it, letting this man know exactly how to play him.

“Can you stay?” Amir said without thinking, desperation in his voice. He didn’t even know what he meant by that. Stay as a copy of himself? Stay with him here? Forever?

“Well, my name is technically on the deed” Charles said, satisfaction in his voice despite the joke. It was something of an answer to both.

Realistically Charles wouldn’t always be Amir. It just was far too useful to abuse the collection of sneakers and boots they’d picked up. Amir would likely never need to hire a whole host of handymen in the future again, a suitable body for every job at their fingertips. Aside from that and whatever other fun could be had, Charles fit here. Fit as him, with him.

Their bodies together as Amir flipped on the TV. He knew himself well and they were both out in a minute, synchronized snores as the news murmured on.

[oftlunarialmoon]

75 Agere Journal Prompts

Draw yourself a kawaii bento lunch!

Write down any chores for the day as a to-do list or sticker check off list

Design a smol outfit

Make a playlist for your littlespace

Draw portraits of your stuffies

Write your headcanons for your comfort characters as caregivers

Write down some animal facts from different parts of the world that interest you!

List items that are your favorite color

Make a magazine collage with a specific theme

List ideas you want to do in certain seasons

List your favorite agere nicknames

Write down any agere headcanons you have for fictional characters or OCs

List stuffie name ideas

List all your current stuffie names

List your favorite phone apps for littlespace

Make a tier list of your opinions on different types of candy

Draw what your favorite characters would look like as stuffies

Invent a new kidcore fashion trend

List 5 facts about your favorite sea animal

Design your Jolly Roger if you were a pirate

Draw yourself as a Pokemon Trainer

List how you deal with stress in agere methods

Write out any recipes you can make while regressed

List crafts you’d like to make

Make a page about your morning routine when regressed

Make a page about your night time routine when regressed

Write out any rules or guidelines you have when regressed

What’s on your Agere/Littlespace Movies list?

Write about what you would do on a visit to the beach

List any animes you like when small

List your favorite agere books

Dear Past Me - What would you tell your past self?

Dear Future Me - What would you tell your future self?

List songs that make you regress

List your regression triggers (positive or negative)

Write about how you would comfort a friend in need

Write about your dream vacation

Make your christmas/birthday/holiday gift wishlist

List your fave agere video games

List your favorite stims

Write a letter to your favorite fictional character

Write a letter to a friend or family member

Play I spy and write down the categories and things you find

Make a page of your top 5 agere songs from the last month

List free activities you can do when regressed

Make a collage page from a coloring sheet and stickers

Play scavenger hunt with stickers of your preferred theme

Use a page to write down word games like word scrambles and mad libs

Fill a page with positive messages for yourself to read later

Write down tarot interpretations if you do tarot reading while smol

List ideas for kandi bracelets you could make

Declare a random day a holiday of some kind, write down how you celebrate it

Use a page to “braindump” all of your current thoughts, even if it’s babbling

Make a sticker collage inspired by your caregiver

Make a sticker collage inspired by the seasons

Trace your hand onto the page and give yourself fun nail art, tattoos, or accessories

Draw a race track for a toy car, add obstacles or scenery with stickers

Write a social media profile page for a comfort character

Make a “top secret” file with your stuffie’s secrets >:)

Make a collage inspired by yourself

Dedicate a page to facts about one of your special interests

Write a poem for your pet (or fave stuffie!)

Draw a scene around a sticker of your favorite animal

Draw the inside of a house and use stickers to furnish and decorate it

Draw a scene to play with your toys in

Try a mindful reset page (List problems you’re facing, then list more positive mindset changes to each one)

Document the stories you play out with dolls or toys

Write down “this or that” prompts in one color then answer them in another color !

Use stickers to tell a story or make a fun comic

Fill a page with word art, using any words that make you feel smol

Make a list of all of your OCs

Use a page to document Minecraft coordinates of your favorite builds

Draw the outline of a purse or bag, and use stickers to show what a character of your choice would have in their bag, or-

Use stickers to show what you would put in your dream agere bag!

Draw a face on a page in marker or pen, and use makeup to decorate it! (or face paint :p)

[domripley]

Different Mindset

pairing: scarlett johansson x reader

warnings: dom/sub, anal, mommy kink, verbal humiliation, spit kink, mentions florence x reader

summary: Trying to get into the mindset for Natasha before filming, you help Scarlett out.

this is a repost

You watched as Scarlett paced around your shared hotel room. The two of you traveling to London to film for her up and coming movie ‘Black Widow’, but she was having trouble getting into the role.

“Remember what I told you when you got the role for Lucy?” You asked, which got her to stop pacing.

“You would let me fuck you as hard as I could to get in the mindset of Lucy.” she answered, her face turning into a smirk. Looking at you as if you were her prey.

“Yes, and the offer stand for this movie too,” you say, shrugging your shoulders.

Scarlett sat down next to you, placing her hand on your thigh. “Are you sure? It’s okay if you don’t want to though,” she assured you, but you shook your head.

“I want to do this, I want to help.”

“What are your safewords?”

“Red to completely stop, yellow to slow down, and green tells you I’m okay. If I’m gagged, I pump my fist in the air.”

“Good girl.” she praised, kissing you on the cheek.

“Alright, I’m gonna go for my workout with my trainer. I’ll text you when I’m ten minutes away, and when I get home, I want you naked and on your knees. Understood?” she instructed, her voice stern as her hand travelled between your legs. Rubbing hard circles against your clothed cunt, she kissed your cheek. Only moving her hand away when you let out a whine.

“Yes, Mommy.”

Kissing you on the lips, Scarlett left for her workout. You knew she wanted you ready for when she walked into the hotel room, but knowing her, she’d take a shower first. But, as you got to thinking, you were contemplating on being a brat to her. Although, she needed this from you; usually you’d be all up for your attitude, but not this time.

It was an hour and a half later when you got the text:

Scar: Be there in nine, get ready for me princess.

You got to work, taking off your clothes and folding them neatly onto the chair next to the bed. You were excited, but nervous as to what she was going to do. You loved the thrill of not knowing what was to come. Getting down on your knees, facing the door to the bedroom, you waited for her to come back. After five minutes of waiting, you heard the front door open. Scarlett walked straight to where you were kneeling, not even acknowledging you. Wondering if you should ask her how the workout was, she began to undress. You watched as she threw her dirty clothes in the hamper, but when she turned to you, she spoke.

“Did I say you could look at me, slut?” she asked, looking for a clean towel in the closet.

“No-” you began but she cut you off.

“I also didn’t say you could talk. Eyes on the floor, Printsessa.” when the Russian nickname came out, you bit your lip to stop the moan that was forming. “I’m gonna go take a shower, want you to stay there until I tell you to move. Understood?”

“Yes, Mommy.” you answered, her face softening as she combed her fingers through your hair.

“Good girl.”

Grabbing a drawstring bag from one of her duffle bags, Scarlett headed to the bathroom. To keep yourself from rubbing your thighs together, you spread your thighs further as best as you could. The floor wasn’t as comfortable as you first thought, wishing you had put a pillow down for you knees. You just hoped that Scarlett would get out of the shower. Quickly.

What felt like hours, Scarlett was finally out of the shower. Hearing it turn off got you excited, knowing it would only be moments before she’d come out and fuck you, but she never came out. Contemplating on calling out to ask if she was okay, you stopped when the bathroom door swung open. Your eyes widening as you saw what she was wearing: combat boots, with a thick strapon that she must have bought before the two of you left for her to film.

“Eyes on the ground, slut.” she said, her attitude changed and you knew she was getting into the role. “You remember your safe words, yes?”

“Yes, Mommy.” you whine, biting your lip as she lifted up your chin.

“Good girl. You’re such a little slut for me, huh?”

You nodded, knowing she wanted you to only answer her safeword question. You knew better, and as she held your head still, you could see that she was contemplating on what to do. When you opened your mouth to talk, she slid two of her fingers into your mouth.“Suck.” was all she said, and you did as you were told. Running your tongue between her fingers, you sucked on them harder.

Slapping you lightly, Scarlett laughed, “You can suck harder than that. You want my cock don’t you?”

You hummed, making eye contact as you sucked harder. Earning a moan from Scarlett, you continued your movements until she told you to open your mouth. Doing as you were told, she removed her fingers and leaned down to spit into your mouth. “Swallow.” was all she said, and you did as you were told.

“Good fucking slut. I know you want my cock, don’t you? You want it down your throat, huh?” Scarlett asked, pulling your hair so your head was tilted back.

“Yes, mommy, wanna choke on it!” you whined, and she smiled, running the pad of thumb across your bottom lip. Her other hand gripping the base of her strapon.

Pulling you closer towards her strapon, you kissed the tip before wrapping your lips around it. Running both of her hands in your hair, she pushed your mouth down further onto it. Slowly moving her hips, making sure you were okay before picking the pace.

You relaxed your throat as each thrust went deeper down your throat, eyes watering as she never let up. Thankful that you were able to deep throat (the first time she fucked your throat didn’t end so well), finally as she pulled away you gasped for air. “Look at you, making a mess on my cock, and I haven’t even fucked that pussy yet.” she laughed, helping you to your feet.

“Bend over the bed, slut.” she said, watching you with hunger in her eyes. Doing as you were told, you heard her walking away. Her boots not allowing her to be sneaky. “I’m going to plug up your ass. My ass, because I’m going to fuck it. Color?” she asked softly, breaking character.

“Green, Scar.”

Walking back towards, you looked back at her as she got down onto her knees. You moaned as you felt both of her hands on your ass. “Remember the first time I ate this little ass of yours? You thought you weren’t going to like it, but now you beg for it every single time I fuck you.” Scarlett commented, running her tongue against your cheek. You wanted it, but of course, Scarlett wasn’t going to until you begged for it.

“Please Mommy, please.” You cried out, and she hummed. As you felt her tongue push against your tight hole, you jerked in response. “Keep moving and I’ll punish you.”

“Sc-” you began, but was cut off when her tongue pushed into you deeper. Her left hand moving to rub at your clit.

Trying your best to stay still as she fucked you with her tongue, sliding a finger into your soaked pussy. Jumping at the feeling, Scarlett pulled back. Smacking you hard on your ass. “Little whore, what did I tell you?”

“N-not to move, or you’d punish me.” you whisper, waiting for Scarlett to spank you again.

“That’s correct, ten spanks and then I’ll put this plug in. Understand? Color?”

“Yes, Mommy.” you took a deep breath. “Green.”

“Good girl. Now count, and do not mess up.” she warned, rubbing your ass.

Slapping your ass hard, you let out a sob. “One.” You cried, as she began to rub the spot on your ass. The next one came quick, on your other cheek. This one stinging a little more than the first. “Two.” Scarlett had a plan, spacing out each one to keep you waiting. By the tenth one, you were thankful that you didn’t mess up.

“All done, baby girl. You did so well for me, taking your punishment. Are you ready to get your holes filled up?” she asked, rubbing your ass lightly, waiting for your reply.

“Yes, Mommy.” you moan as she rubs her thumb against your tight hole.

You heard her open the bottle of lube she always packs with her. The squirting sound it made helping you prepare for the coldness you were about to feel. Feeling Scarlett’s middle finger push lightly into your entrance. “So nice and tight for me. Tell me, whose ass is this?”

“Y-yours, mommy. All fucking yours!” You cry out as her finger pushed further into your asshole.

“That’s right. Honestly, I think I love fucking your ass more than your slutty pussy. Should have Florence come fuck it while I watch, and honestly? I don’t even think you deserve my cock there.” Scarlett cooed, adding to your humiliation.

“Please, Mommy, want all my holes fucked.” you beg as she added a second finger.

“You’ll take what I give you, slut.”

Adding a third finger, you hissed as she added more lube. You were close, and as you gasped, Scarlett pulled her fingers out. She wasn’t going to let you come that quick, and you knew that. As soon as her fingers left, the plug covered in lube took their place. When she finally got it in, you felt as if you were finally able to breathe.

“You look so nice and pretty. Are you ready for my cock, Princess?” she asked, and you hummed. Slapping your ass one more time before getting up, Scarlett laid down onto the bed. “Well come here, slut. I want you to ride it.”

“Yes, Mommy.”

Crawling onto the bed without breaking eye contact, you were quick to straddle her hips. You gasped, the feeling of the strap stretching you taking over as you sunk down onto it. Scarlett held your hips, slowly guiding you down further. Once you were all the way down on it, she gave you time to adjust.

“Look at you, such a pretty little whore for me. That’s it, ride my cock.” she encouraged you as you began moving.

“All my co-stars would love to see you riding my cock like the good slut you are,” Scarlett said, her left hand wrapping around your neck. “All filled up, maybe they’d love to join. Take turns fucking you.”

You let out a choked whine as she thrusted up, meeting each of your movements. Slapping your face with her free hand as she squeezed your throat, Scarlett smirked up at you when you wrapped your lips around her thumb. “Dirty little slut. Want you to come on my cock.” she moaned, letting go of your throat.

Laying down on Scarlett, she wrapped her arms around your waist. Her thrusts becoming frantic as you sucked the side of her neck. Whispering, “I’m so close, Scar,” which only motivated her to fuck you harder and faster.

“Then do it, fucking come.”

You did as soon as the words left her mouth. Scarlett never letting go of your waist, she continued fucking you through your orgasm. Pulling you by your hair so she was able to kiss you, she smiled against your lips.

“Lay down on your stomach, gonna fuck your ass now.” she said as she helped you off her strap.

Grabbing the bottle of lube, Scarlett squirted some onto her hand. Watching you get on your stomach as she rubbed the lube onto her strapon, she chuckled. “Your ass looks so fucking pretty. I almost don’t want to fuck you, and just leave you there for me for later while I go get drinks.”

“No, Mommy. Please come fuck what’s yours!” you begged.

“That’s right your ass is mine, you’re all mine.” she said as she climbed back onto the bed. “Ass up, Princess.” You did as you were told without thinking, preparing yourself as she slowly pulled out the plug.

“Color?”

“Green.”

“Good girl. Ready for my cock? Gonna fuck you so hard,” she moaned, pressing the lube tip to your entrance.

As she pushed in, you gripped the sheets. Making sure to keep your breathing steady, you relaxed yourself as she pushed into you some more. As soon as she was all the way in, she stayed still, allowing you to get adjusted to the size.

“So full, M-” you began, but cut yourself off with a moan. “P-please, move. Please fuck me!” You cried out, and Scarlett happily gave you what you want.

Her pace slow at first, making sure you were okay and comfortable. But as she quickened her movements, she pulled you up by your hair. Quick to wrap her left hand around your neck. Slamming her hips hard against you, Scarlett reached around with her free hand to play with your clit, keeping up with the pace she had. You were growing closer to your second orgasm when she pulled out, causing a whine to slip out.

“You want to whine? I’ll give you something to whine about, slut.” she said, slapping your ass.

Laying down on her side, you got the hint and did the same. With your back pressed to her chest, she moved down a bit so she could line the tip of her strapon at your entrance once again. Pushing in again, Scarlett picked up where she left off. Hooking her arm around your leg to make sure you weren’t able to close your legs.

Reaching down with your free hand to rub your clit, Scarlett stopped you. “You little whore, I never said you could touch yourself. Did I?” she panted, never letting up on her pace.

“No, M-mommy. Please, please let me touch, so fucking close!” You cry, and Scarlett hums.

“Hm, touch yourself for me and come while I fuck your ass.”

Scarlett didn’t have to tell you twice. You rubbed hard circles against your clit to match her thrusts. You turned your head so she could kiss you, only to break as your legs start to shake.

“I’m co-” you were cut off by your orgasm. Scarlett letting go of your leg to stick her fingers in your mouth - she had forgotten that the two of you were in a hotel. You came with a muffled scream, but as she was helping you through it, she stopped fucking you. Pulling out and moving between your legs, her mouth was instantly on your clit. Sliding a finger into your soaked pussy, she sucked hard. She continued to help you through your orgasm, but continued after, you whined. Too sensitive you called out “Red”, and she stopped completely.

“You’re such a good girl, you know that? Love how pretty you look right now,” Scarlett praised, going to grab a water bottle from the mini fridge. Opening it up and guiding it to your lips, you drank half off it. “Love how good you are for me, to me. I love you, (Your Name).”

“I love you too, Scar,” you whispered, watching her take the strapon off. Setting it in the bathroom before coming to lay down with you.

Wrapping her arms around, he kissed you on the cheek. “Thank you for this,” she said, you turned to face her.

“It was no problem, plus, I got fucked so I’m not upset.” you smiled, causing her to roll her eyes.

“Mm, yeah you did.”

“Also, Scar?” you asked in a whisper, and she hummed. “You realize that Florence’s room is next this part of ours, right?”

Your cheeks heated up at the thought of her hearing what Scarlett said. Scarlett knew about the crush you had on her, and she loved teasing you about it in the bedroom. But the thought of Florence hearing it? Embarrassed you even more.

“Oh.” Scarlett smirked in faux innocence.

“If she heard us, you’re explaining it to her. Not me.” You rolled her eyes.

“Gladly.”

[epicspheal]

A Strong and Upstanding Heart! A Lance Analysis

Imagine you're a kid in the 90s playing Pokemon Red and Blue…you’ve gotten all eight badges, made it through Victory Road and bested Lorelei, Bruno and Agatha. Now the only person that you think stands before you and the title of Indigo League Champion is a certain cape loving Dragon Master…

That’s right we’re talking about Lance! Lance is definitely one of those character who has very different interpretations depending on whether or not you’re looking at the anime, games or manga. For the sake of consistency with my other analyses…I’m only sticking to the gameverse and any media that corresponds to it (mainline games, Pokemon Masters EX and Generations). 

Let’s start with his name…in English it’s a weapon. Which is very befitting a dragon master as in many pieces of European Folklore knights wielded lances to slay dragons. But considering in Pokemon Lance doesn’t slay dragon-types but befriends them you could compare him to many of the heroes of dragon-rider fantasy who often had weapons they carried while on the back of their flying reptilians. Lance in the games is very knightly in demeanor and one could very easily imagine him riding on the back of his Dragonite wielding a lance. In French his name is Peter which is actually derived from petard which is another medieval weapon again reinforcing that knightly demeanor. His German name is Siegfried who is a legendary hero who bested the dragon Fafnir, further symbolizing Lance as a proud warrior. 

But then his Japanese is Wataru which has a couple of different meanings. First is “Watatsumi” who is a legendary kami and water deity in Japanese folklore that happened to be a dragon. But also it is derived from “wata” which means “cotton” which his Korean name also is derived from. When we think of the language of flowers we usually think of Roses and Forget-me-Nots. Yet cotton has a lot of symbolism. Cotton is known to mean “fortune, gratitude, cherish, well-being and receiving blessings”. When we think of Lance, he’s had a lot of blessings in his life. He was born into a prestigious dragon clan and was chosen as the heir of said clan before he went to the league. He became an Elite Four member which is an esteemed position many trainers could only dream to have. He even manages to become champion afterwards which as a title bestowed upon very few. So much of his life is very much blessed and Lance recognizes that blessing and cherishes it. 

Now let’s take a look at his team. His team varies throughout the series due to his changing roles from Elite Four to Champion so we’ll be covering both

Starting with his Elite Four team, the first thing that often stands out is that he lacks a lot of diversity on his team with him having 3 Pokemon from the same family and two of them being unevolved. While some people may consider it poor team building (at least from a more competitive mindset) it actually means a lot storywise. We have to remember that Pokemon was originally meant to end at GSC and we know by then Lance has ascended to the rank of champion. So him having two Dragonair actually makes sense in that context as it was foreshadowing his growth in his strength as a trainer. Now let’s take a look at his movesets. One thing that sticks out is that he really loves the move Hyper Beam, Outrage and SafeGuard. Hyper Beam is a very powerful move with the drawback of causing the Pokemon to not be able to move after for one turn after its use. It definitely establishes Lance as a power player with a hint of recklessness since the use of Hyper Beam does leave his Pokemon so vulnerable. However it also shows the trust he has in his Pokemon’s power to have that move consistently in the movesets. Outrage is another high-risk, high reward move that allows him to utilize STAB as it’s a dragon type. Again this further solidifies Lances hyper offensive strategy and his trust in his Pokemon. However this is where the move Safeguard comes into play as the move actually protects against the self-inflicted confusion status. This shows that Lance is strategic with his hyper-offensive strategy

Now let’s look at his team as champion! We can see he now has three full Dragonite which again shows that him having Dragonair in the Kanto games was an intentional choice to foreshadow his eventual ascent up the ranks. And now we also see that all of his Pokemon share the flying type which leads to the joke that Lance should be known as the “flying type champion”. His movesets for his Pokemon have also drastically changed. He has way more variety in types which helps to enable better coverage. He still relies on high-risk, high-reward moves but with more focus on moves that have lower accuracy (Thunder, Blizzard, Fire Blast, Dragon Rush). This change in strategy reflects his growth in the time between the original Kanto events and the Johto events. He’s had to step up to the role of Indigo League champion which warrants a change in tactics. That being said, he still definitely relies on his old faithfuls Outrage, Safeguard and Hyper Beam on his signature Dragon type.

His rematch team in HGSS shows more Dragon types and a shift in strategy to involve more set up (Dragon Dance, Swords Dance and Double Team) as well as some more evasive techniques (Roar to get rid of bad matchups)

I also wanted to bring up his team when pairs up with his cousin Clair. His signature Dragonite in these match-ups knows the move Dragon Meteor- a powerful move that can only be learned by Dragon types that have a high enough trust in their trainer. This shows that he has a strong bond with his dragon types which is something Clair at the time hasn’t quite yet gotten to.

"Ah! I've heard about you, <player>! I lead the Elite Four. You can call me Lance the dragon Trainer. You know that dragons are mythical Pokémon. They're hard to catch and raise, but their powers are superior. They're virtually indestructible. There's no being clever with them. Well, are you ready to lose? Your League challenge ends with me, <player>!"

I really like this introduction quote from Lance as he does a good job selling the power of Dragon type Pokemon to the player. Not only that you can see how much pride he has in being the leader of the Elite Four.

"I still can't believe my dragons lost to you, <player>. You are now the Pokémon League Champion! …Or, you would have been, but you have one more challenge left. There is one more Trainer to face! His name is… <rival>! He beat the Elite Four before you. He is the real Pokémon League Champion."This quote here gives us a look into the mindsight of Lance in Gen 1 where he’s a little overconfident in the powers of his team. Which makes sense because as we know up until Blue and Red no one had managed to make it to the league at all meaning that he’s held the title of the strongest for a long time. So him getting beat by not one, but two 11 year old kids in succession was definitely a shock to the system.

"That red Gyarados wasn't acting right. As I feared, somebody must have forced it to evolve… Did you come here because of the wild tales? You're <player>? I'm Lance, a Trainer like you. I heard some rumblings, so I came to investigate… I saw the way you battled earlier, <player>. I can tell that you're a Trainer with considerable skill. If you don't mind, could you help me investigate?" This is our first conversation with Lance in the Johto and you can actually see a change in his demeanor. He’s not boasting about the superior powers of dragon types or his own skill as a trainer. He’s actually more humble with his approach saying he is a trainer “like you”. Also right now he’s focused on trying to solve the mystery of the Red Gyarados, showing that he is taking the mantle of being the champion of the Indigo League very seriously

"Dragonite, Hyper Beam."I just had to put in his iconic phrase in this analysis. We know what’s coming here- he’s about to blast a poor Team Rocket grunt to kingdom come and give him PTSD (as we know from Pokemon Masters as the grunt he hyper beamed is currently on Pasio). We see here how he has no tolerance for evil-doers

"Sorry, <player>. I saw how well you were doing, so I just hung back. Now all there is left to do is to turn off that odd radio signal."A lot of complaints about champions prior to gen 8 were that they let the protagonist take down the bad guys with little to no assistance. But here we get some reasoning from Lance as to why he took a backseat. He noticed that the player could handle the grunts by themself so there was no need for him to step in. 

"It's this machine that's causing all the problems. I don't see a switch on it… We have no choice. We have to make all the Electrode faint. That should stop this machine from transmitting that strange signal. It's no fault of the Electrode, so it makes me feel sad. <Player>, let's split the job.I really like this quote because it complements the “Dragonite, Hyper Beam” quote. Even though he is no-holds barred when it comes to evil, he recognizes that the Electrode are innocent and don’t deserve to suffer even though they have to be fainted in order to help save the Pokemon affected by Radio transmission.

"I've been waiting for you. <Player>! I knew that you, with your skills, would eventually reach me here. There's no need for words now. We will battle to determine who is the stronger of the two of us. As the most powerful Trainer and as the Pokémon League Champion… I, Lance the dragon master, accept your challenge!"Lance’s pre-battle quote before the champion battle is a nice progression from his pre-battle quote when he was an Elite four member. Again he comes to this battle with a more measured, less haughty response than three years prior (although he does kind of borrow Blue’s “I’m the most Powerful Trainer” bit). You can tell how much he’s grown not just in strength, but in attitude.

"…It's over. But it's an odd feeling. I'm not angry that I lost. In fact, I feel happy. Happy that I witnessed the rise of a great new Champion!"

Again we can see more of this growth from the defeat quote as champion versus when he was the leader of the Elite Four. Here we see he’s not in disbelief, nor is he upset that yet another kid bested him. In fact he’s happy to have seen the growth of another champion. 

"I'm glad to be on your team, Silver!"Alright now onto some Pokemon Masters EX quotes. I chose this one of the team ups because I like how we see throughout the game, we see how much Lance looks out for Silver and is proud of him. A far cry from when they first interacted in the Johto games where Lance had to give him some tough love by completely annihilating his team. It all comes full circle for Silver during the Johto Neo Champion arc where he’s finally able to win against Lance, and Lance couldn’t be prouder of him. 

"You all haven't changed one bit, I see! I must admit, I'm looking forward to these battles myself!"I really like this line from the Normal Champion Stadium where the original Indigo Elite Four and Blue team up. It’s nice to see how he interacts with some of his former colleagues 

"(I guess he's right. I was very happy to witness my challengers surpass me.) But maybe that means I'm starting to forget what it feels like to WANT to win.) [...] I still remember how frustrating it was to lose to Red and Blue back in Kanto. Both Dragonite and I need to approach this like challengers, not Champions..."I really like this quote from the Arc-Suit chapter as we see Lance coming towards an important realization. He’s been so focused on being an ideal champion, a trainer who can be a role model to others and mentor as well, that he’s forgotten what made him want to aim for the title of champion in the first place. His drive to win. His joy for the taste of victory. He thinks about his losses to Red and Blue and how he was frustrated he was bested by kids. And now he’s realizing that if he wants to continue to grow stronger, he has to approach battles like he’s not at the pinnacle of what it means to be a trainer.

"It's true that you're strong, Clair. And it's good to have confidence in your own abilities...but there's a limit to what's good and what's not. Too much pride can make you overconfident, and overconfidence can make you vulnerable." 

"You can be a little impulsive sometimes, Clair...but that earnest, straightforward attitude of yours is one of your greatest strengths as well. If you can learn to hone that, the sky is the limit!"I really like the relationship Lance has with his cousin Clair. Even though their personalities clash a bit, we see how much he does care for her even when he is chastising her. He wants her to be the best version of herself that she can

"A long time ago, when I was a member of the Elite Four but not Champion, I was defeated by a Trainer.He claimed to be the greatest of all, and he had the strength and skill to back it up. But eventually, a stronger Trainer came along, and even he was defeated... It was then that I realized something. That title—"the greatest"—can inflate your ego, but it doesn't really mean anything. It's an illusion, there one minute and gone the next...The way I see it, seeking to grow and improve yourself is far more worthwhile than chasing a fleeting illusion of greatness."

This quote here shows the moment where we can see the shift between his Gen 1 and Gen 2 personalities. It was the quick succession between Blue and Red as champion that allowed him to temper himself when it comes to chasing success. Sure he still values the title of champion, but he realizes that just because he obtained it that he can’t rest on his laurels, lest someone else come by and snatch the title away from him

"Leon, I think that capes should be more simple! When you're the Champion and greet new challengers with a swoosh of your cape...I understand that the details of your cape speak volumes about who you are. But for me, the simplicity of my cape helps me stand out more!" The dialogue about capes between Lance, Steven and Leon was a cute little interaction between the three champions regarding capes. We see Lance prefers simple capes compared to Leon’s whose cape is filled with advertisements. We know Lance has a huge fondness for capes even back from the Fame Checker where a woman from the Celadon Department Store mentions he comes by to purchase capes frequently. Even though he disagrees about designs for capes with Leon, we know from further into the conversation that he still greatly respects the symbolism Leon’s cape has showing him to be an open-minded and respectful individual

"I noticed you weren't your usual self right before our match.It was almost as if you were so worked up, you couldn't tell what was happening with your partner. Iris, you must remember that you're no ordinary Pokémon Trainer. You are a role model to others, and you represent Unova as Champion. I hope you can understand that and conduct yourself accordingly."

Ah so this is dialogue from the Iris event that definitely rubbed some people the wrong way. We know from earlier in the event that Iris was struggling with knowing that people seemed to find her an embarrassment as the champion from Unova. And then her Hydreigon goes out of control. We see here Lance actually could tell that something was up, but didn’t know the full context. His words do come off a bit harsh here to someone who knows everything going on with Iris, but you can see that he was trying to help her out. He understands the weight that comes with being champion, and also the weight of being a dragon tamer. 

"It's never too late. You can start with whoever needs you most."I really liked this line from Lance to Diantha once Iris is able to regain confidence in herself. Diantha was lamenting the fact that she didn’t think about mentorship as a champion (as she was kind of removed from the Team Flare plot in the gameverse canon). And we have Lance who's not admonishing her for that but showing there’s room to grow.

"Someday, stories about me will be passed down to future generations of our clan as well. If I think about it that way, it reminds me that I have to be on my best behavior.I'd like to be a good role model for all future dragon masters."This quote from Lance really helps to shine light on why he is so passionate about being a good role model and having a strong and upstanding nature. He realizes that he will forever be immortalized in his clan’s history and in the Hall of Fame. He wants to make sure the legacy he leaves behind is one that makes people feel energized and not ashamed

"This outfit shows off Gyarados's power as a dragon! What's that, you say? Gyarados isn't a Dragon-type Pokémon? Haha, not all dragons are Dragon-type Pokémon!" I remember this quote making rounds on social media as we get to have some in-universe acknowledgement that dragons =/= dragon types! It’s a distinction that you would expect a dragon master like Lance to know!

Lance is an iconic character and he’s a really good case study on how Gamefreak has always cared about their characters even as far back as gen 1. A lot of people deride the first region as being barebones but he’s one of the many characters regions that has had layers woven into him from the beginning as we can see his growth between the events of Kanto and Johto. He grows from the proud (and just a tad cocky) leader of the Elite four to a wise noble Champion and Dragon Master

[legend-the-dumb-jock]

Heya, I'm pretty close to finishing my science degree but I feel like I've missed out on a great college life thanks to my constant studying. I wish I could experience what college is like for the frat guys who never worried about their studies, they must have a blast.

I’m going to do something for you that I rarely do. You’re going to be something different if a change. But you’re going to be so much at the same time. First we are going to change that college major to something that will align more with a simplistic mindset that you are going to have from this point forward. I'm thinking something in sports. Maybe something along the lines of a personal trainer. You're going to send all your free time in the gym getting your muscles defined and perfect for your new role and not thinking about a damn thing other than lifting, eating right, and getting your dick worked. But what will be different about you is that you're going to be a ginger jock. A big dumb ginger jock. stomping around the gym with some wide size 17s that stink up a room. An 11 inch knee slapper that tents your shorts even when you're not hard but when you are that's when people really see that ginger bush make you flush. You're going to have pale skin and fire red hair to set off this perfect ginger jock look too. Now that you look the part, you're going to have to act the part now. I'm going to throw in some loud obnoxious behaviors that you can't control. Farting loud from those bulbous cheeks and burping like a real man. You're going to be a sweaty disgusting hunk by the end of it. Now the only thing left, you be stuck like this for a whole week. Before graduation. The only question is will you choose to go back to your old life of books and being smart or do you want to live out this new life of a big dumb ginger buffoon.

[blueboyluca]

Lately I've been feeling a huge need for emotionally intelligent, empathetic and thoughtful content about dog training and care. I feel very fragile at the moment and this sort of thing, while also kind of painful in a way, has been helping me be forgiving to myself and understanding to the dogs in my life. I can't get my thoughts straight to write out anything in detail, but I can share the resources themselves.

This episode was soothing. Christina is a beautiful and gentle speaker and her insights are incredibly valuable. I appreciate her desire to stay out of the limelight, but I do wish I had regular access to her thoughts so it's a bit of a shame she doesn't do social media or anything like that.

Choice quote: "Oftentimes I want to raise my hand and be like, can we evaluate this carceral mindset? And I get looks and I think, cool, not the time, not the place. This is not the space, like, shift gears, let it go, try something else."

This post was a really useful reflection tool. I don't identify as a crossover trainer, since I never trained dogs before, but I still relate because I was raised in a punishment first society regardless of dogs. Even as someone who came to dog training committed to R+ from the outset, it still takes rewiring and relearning and reconfiguring to not default to punishment.

Choice quote: "We humans believe that anger is an appropriate response to being wronged. I agree. There is a lot in this world to be enraged about. The problem is directing that rage at dogs and other beings we control. We are encouraged to believe that dogs are morally wronging us, and that appropriate responses are anger and punishment."

I found so much value in this two-part podcast from Animal Training Academy with Michele Pouliot. She had so much wisdom about how to effectively help people and change minds. And sometimes that means being frustrated.

Choice quote: "When we start working with a dog that's never had positive reinforcement training before, you're right, what's the first thing we do? We build a reinforcement history so that dog trusts us, enjoys being around us, and as soon as we have that relationship we can ask more of them... just because a person called you and made the appointment doesn't mean you have a relationship yet... It's the same as training the dog, you have to build the history."

I'd love to find some more media like these. I've been downloading a bunch of new dog books again, but so far none of them are quite scratching the itch I've got. I wish I could read something like The Secret History of Kindness again, that was one of those rare books that had a profound impact on me.

[daniwib]

Season 8 speculation

Here’s my own speculation on what is going to happen in s8 based partly on wishful thinking but also because TM likes to do the unexpected while also calling back to earlier episodes:-

Chim and Hen both get transferred out to different stations. Chim possibly to the academy as a trainer instead of a regular station. Either way, they’re not at the 118 anymore under Gerrard. The fandom is so focused on what their lives are going to be like working under Gerrard again that I think TM is going to flip things on us and they’re not going to be working under him at all. They’ve both already done that before and they’re both much stronger, wiser and more mature now. They won’t take his shit and so we won’t see it. It’ll be more dramatic to take them out of the equation completely and split the 118 up.

Eddie is in a dark place because Chris is still living in Texas. He’s aware things are not great with Gerrard but he’s not focused on it, he’s just trying to keep his head above water in his personal life. Call back to Tommy saying he didn’t like who he was working under Gerrard – Eddie cannot handle anything else, so he falls into his old military mindset and toes the line at work. Does whatever Gerrard says, doesn’t talk back etc etc. Inadvertently becomes Gerrard’s golden boy because of it though he barely even notices. I’d love for that to cause issues between him and Buck but I think their relationship is too strong for that. But then TM has surprised us all before so who knows.

It takes a while before Gerrard realizes that Buck is dating Tommy but once he does, he starts making Buck’s life hell at work in the small ways he did back in the day with Hen and Chim. Who aren’t there to support Buck, and Eddie doesn’t seem to notice, and so Buck flounders. He’s never experienced constant, relentless homophobia like that before. How would he react? Does he try to hide who he is like Tommy did while working under Gerrard, or does he instead flaunt it? Does it wear him down and make him withdraw into himself? Or do we finally see some real growth for his character and see him standing up for himself without any support from his coworkers? (I’m assuming Tommy is supporting him bts but perhaps not against Gerrard personally. Tommy has his own past demons about the man to deal with).

Call back to 3x16 when Buck says “Yeah, like if Bobby retired. [sic] You know, or one of us got moved to another house, we would still all stay in touch” and Buck’s seeking reassurance that that won’t happen to them. Which they don’t actually give him, btw. Fast forward to the end of s7 and what’s Bobby done? Retired. Sure, he changed his mind and wants to come back but as of now in canon he is retired. So, I’m waiting to see some or all of them transferred to other houses and the 118 be completely separated either physically or in Eddie’s case mentally if he stays working in the same house as Buck.

They did it in Lonestar already and we know the shows have echoed themes before (whumpable chaos coma besties TK & Buck anyone?). The drama potential of it happening to the 118 is enticing. It would affect all of them in different ways and who knows we might even get that Buck breakdown we’ve been wanting for years. There are so many ways all of their storylines could go before we finally get that sweet sweet resolution and see Gerrard get the karmic slap he has to have coming – because that’s something else that 911 loves, dispensing karma to those who deserve it.

I haven’t even mentioned the whole Bathena being homeless or HenRen losing Mara storylines, but I know those will come into play again in s8 and I am excited to see where things go with them, too.

I also really hope that Gerrard was the arsonist and that we get more of the 118 losing their homes to arson (cough cough Buck’s loft) and perhaps even the station itself. Far fetched? Possibly. We’ve had more insane things happen on this show, though.

I’ve deliberately not speculated on the BuckTommy or Buddie of it all because quite frankly I’m tired of the shipwar. I’m content to wait and see where TM goes with that. What I’m excited for is to see how the dynamics of Gerrard and every member of the 118 play out during s8.

[nartothelar]

Really loving your old man Emmet design!

There is a lot of sadness hidden behind his eyes. And his smile got much smaller. (I'm also wondering if, much like Ingo in Hisui with his smile Emmet also has his brief moments of frowning).

I admire his strength to not let his grief consume him. He had his moment of doubt, but he had someone setting him back on track again. He is a strong and kind guy and I'm very sure during his travels he's also doing a lot of good things as well as enjoying battles with strong trainers. He's living his life the fullest he can. (I'm sure he's also visiting a lot of Trains and Stations across the different reasons wishing to show them to Ingo but still very much enjoying them/ I also believe he's still in contact with Elesa and keeps her updated on his journey) apologies for my ramble, just wondering about things

I don't know where you're going with this and if you plan to have old man Emmet eventually reuniting with old man Ingo but I know I enjoy your content either way.

Thank you so much for your wonderful content and the joy it gives me! You're awesome!

Thank you!! I’m glad you’re enjoying the old man emmet content 🥰

And your ask and theories are spot on! In his travels, Emmet is meeting new challengers, seeing new sights, learning from trainers of all ages, experiencing the world! And at the end of the day, Emmet still returns to nimbasa, always nimbasa, during his travels across the regions. Even after retiring, he’s still well loved and is welcomed back with open arms and challenges from those who want to battle the retired subway boss ^^

The main focus of this au is to show that, even though ingo’s disappearance is a weight in emmets mind, he is still trying to continue on and live his life!

Both have moved on in their own ways, making sure that what they’re missing, that their grief, isn’t consuming them. They’re growing, changing, even apart. And when they finally reunite, even if they’ve both changed, they’ll be in the right mindset to finally reconnect their two car train

[wosowrites]

Even Protectors Break Down (Sam Kerr (kinda) x Reader)

warnings: ⚠️mentions of death⚠️

a/n: so today has been the worst day of my life. but i promised i would get a fic out so here it is. couldn’t find the request, sorry.

prompt: in which the readers father passes away right before a game, and reader chooses not to tell anybody. The reader has a really bad game and when the team finds out why, they need to be there for the person that usually protects them.

The game was at 3:00.

You had to leave your appartement at 9:00

The call came at 8:37.

You had changed into your tracksuit and had done your pregame routine which consisted of making a breakfast sandwich and watching a scary movie. You were now standing in front of the mirror in the washroom, trying your hair into a tight messy bun.

Your phone, that was placed on the counter, started ringing just as you were looping an extra hair tie around your hair. You struggled to get it on, trying to not ruin your hair but also hoping you wouldn’t miss the call.

Mum, the screen read.

Your mother never called you. Your mother didn’t like you. All you had was your dad, family wise. He was kind, and calm, and loving, and never got mad at you for not being interested in the boys your mother set you up with.

You answered the call on the last ring before your mother would have given up.

"Mum?" you said, concern in your voice. Your mother answered with silence. "Mum!" you said, loudly and clearly.

"Your father got into a car crash. He didn’t make it. Funeral is in a week and I can text you is will. Or what you inherited from it. Which is basically everything. Good luck with the game today, versus Manchester City, right?" your mother said.

Good luck with the game, your mum had never wished you good luck with a game. She thought your career was stupid.

"No… no… it’s versus United," you said, calmly staring at yourself through the mirror. "Oh. My bad. Good luck," she hung up.

Processing your emotions seemed impossible. You wanted to scream, and cry, and curl up on the floor and never leave. But instead, you smiled at yourself in the mirror and took a deep breath.

You usually blasted music on the way to Cobham, where you met the Chelsea girls before leaving for Manchester, but today, the car was silent. Silent other than for the sound of the ring you wore on your index tapping against the steering wheel.

Your hands were shaking uncontrollably, which definitely wasn’t safe as you were driving on a highway.

A highway, your dad died on a highway. Probably. You couldn’t remember if your mother had specified.

You arrived at the training ground, your brain cloudy, your hands shaky, and your body numb. You had told yourself in the car that you would be keeping this to yourself to make sure the team got the win without having to worry about you.

Ever since you were young, you had adopted the ‘don’t want to be a burden' mindset. And that’s the mindset you had chosen for today as you walked into Cobham, greeted by cameras and trainers.

You put on your best smile, the one that said 'my mother didn’t just tell me my father died less than 40 minutes ago!' and then waved at the camera.

The second they couldn’t see you anymore, you let your smile drop. Nervously running your hands through your loose hair (you had ripped the bun out in the car) you walked into the changing room.

Your throat felt blocked as you smiled a tight lipped smile to the girls who said hi to you. You sat down beside Sam’s empty cubby, she was always a little late.

Sam and you had… history. And by history you meant hookup history. Sam was just always there, all the time, especially when you felt the most alone. And she made you feel… not alone. But you had never been able to venture into anything serious with her, the timing was just wrong. Yet somehow every time you told each other that it was over, you woke up in her bed.

The world around you felt cushioned. It felt like you were lying under a weighted blanket, listening to a party going on on the outside, on the other side of the blanket.

You hadn’t noticed eyes on you, zoned out instead on Millie’s number 4 jersey.

"Y/n!" a voice yelled, snapping you out of your daze. You turned your head quickly in the direction of the voice. "Mhm," you said, looking at Guro. "Are you okay?" Erin asked, all eyes on you now.

You held eye contact with her for a while, biting the inside of your cheek, licking your lips, trying to think of what to say.

"Sam’s late again. Why is she always late? Do you think she’s okay? She should really not be late," you said, standing up quickly and pulling at your fingers.

Pernille try to make a step towards you but you walked off, back out of the changing room and into the Cobham hallways.

As you turned the corner, you immediately felt a familiar body colliding with yours. "Sam! Jesus why are you so late?!" You grounded the australian, walking backwards and away from her. "I’m like, ten minutes late," she said, checking her watch and looking back up at you, sorry visible in her brown eyes.

You held eye contact with her before turning away and walking back into the changing room, met with confused looks from your teammates.

But you were saved by Emma, who walked in and started debriefing you all. Only ten minutes later, you were walking out of Cobham to board the bus on the way to Manchester. A 4h37 minute drive was ahead of you. A drive in which you would try not to break down, and then you would warm up, and try not to break down, and then play the game, and try not to break down, and then-

"Stop yelling her name it won’t do anything! Y/n…" Sams voice broke you out of your trance, her tone changing from when she talked to the team and when she adresses you.

You spun your head to the side, looking at Sam who’s hand was on your lower back. "Sorry. Bus, yeah," you said, climbing into the vehicle.

you climbed into the bus, your head spinning. the idea of being in a moving vehicle made you ill. you could only think about the fact that your father was now gone due to being in one. but honestly, you being in the bus didn’t bother you, it was the fact that all your girls, your team, your rocks were here too. that Sam was here, that Jessie was, that Magda and P who had been like mothers do you. That was made you feel as though you were going to go insane.

But you sat down in your seat, and pretended as though you were calm. Sam sat next to you, and subtly, casually put her hand on your thigh, rubbing her thumb on it. You didn’t feel her hand leave the whole, entire drive.

When you got to the Manchester United stadium, you quickly ushered the australian out of the bus, not wanting to be there at all. The only time you had taken an entire, deep breath since getting inside the bus was when you saw that all your team and all the staff was out.

But when you weren’t worried about your girls, your brain went back to your father. "Y/n, what’s going on. Your eyes look foggy… and you look pale," Sam said, trying to talk to you discreetly so that Emma wouldn’t hear.

"I am fine. Im just nervous," you lied. "Don’t lie," Sam told you, seeing right through you.

"I’m not, Sam," you said sternly before walking away from her. You spent the rest of the pre warmup looking around the field, checking the changing rooms (even if you’d been there tens of times) and then you got changed. Once a crowd started to gather, you warmed up. And then, kickoff.

It all went wrong so fast.

Your passes were way off, and as a midfielder, your attacking was off, defenders were getting past you quicker than they got around a pilon, and you were just no help whatsoever. It was a miracle that you were tied 2-2 at half.

The second you tried to walk off for halftime, you felt a hand on your shoulder. Magda. "I don’t know what’s wrong with you but you need to pull it together. Like, 30 minutes ago. Whatever is wrong, leave it off the field, got it?" The swede said. "Got it," you said.

Why Emma didn’t take you off? Another miracle. But then things escalated in the second half. Three players somehow went down with injuries and had to be taken off, so suddenly there weren’t any midfielders that could be subbed on for you. The look on the teams face when they realized they would have to play the rest of the game with you on the field made you want to die.

But you did. You tried to create better, crisper passes, and you tried to even get a shot off. But nothing was working. Nothing.

Jessie managed to slot one in in the 88th, which ended up being the last goal of the game.

When the final whistle blew, you fell to the ground immediately. Your head in your hands, you just tried to control your breathing. No need to cry on the pitch. You felt a hand on your back for what felt like the two hundredth time today. But this time, it was a red.

"It wasn’t your day today, I see that. But I also see that something is wrong. Are you okay?" Classic Ona, classic sweet spaniard.

You looked at her with wide eyes for a second. None of your team was around you, no one wanting to loose it on you. "Welp. Considering I can’t tell anyone on my team. I found out my dad died about seven hours ago and I haven’t let myself cry… or fell anything since," you said.

And then you stood up, and walked away. Which probably wasn’t the best move as Ona looked completely lost.

But the second you walked into the tunnel, you were met with Pernille who looked on edge. "Oh! Okay just, hear her out. She’s really mad. She’ll be okay but-" Pernille started saying. But then Magda turned the corner and was storming towards you. "What the hell was that? What was that? I’ve never seen a girl on this team play so badly. I’m sorry I don’t want to ruin your confidence but that was so unprofessional. Never again. Never do that again. You hear me?" Magda said angrily.

You nodded once taking in the swedes anger. Her chest was heaving, her hair was messy, her pupils were small.

She looked you up and down and then walked back into the changing room, Pernille giving you an apologetic look before hurrying after he.

You did not make it back to the locker room, instead, you found a hallway, slid down the wall and started sobbing like you never ever had before.

Locker room

Magda and Pernille were the last people to enter the Chelsea changing room. The girls were happy about the win, but they all seemed lost, and thoroughly confused about what rhe hell had happened on that pitch. But they were about to get their explanation.

Emma walked in, looking pale and teary. "Okay girls-" she cleared her throat and her eyes darted around the room. "-she’s not here. Shit. Uhm… I just got a call from y/n’s agent. Her father… he died a few hours before the game," Emma said.

Right away, Sam’s eyes widened and she jumped up. "Where is she?!" she said, panicking. "I don’t know, uh, maybe the tunnel or-"

"I yelled at her. I said… not okay things to her," Magda said. "And all this time she-" Magdalena said, her eyes unfocused as they looked at the ground.

"I don’t care! Where is she?" Sam said, looking at the captain. "She was in the tunnel last time I-"

But the striker was already off. It took her five minutes to find you, five minutes in which she felt sick and desperate, and five minutes in which you had cried so hard your nose was plugged up.

When she found you, she basically threw herself at you. She wrapped her arms around you and gently guided you to her lap. For almost forty minutes, she stroked your hair, whispered words of love and reassurance to you, and just made sure you know she was there, and that she wasn’t going anywhere.

[thommi-tomate]

Heiko Vogel (former Bayern academy trainer) on Thomas :

He is absolutely one of the most intelligent players I’ve ever trained

The first time I met him, he was 12, It was before he came to Bayern Munich and he was playing in a youth tournament for his hometown. He was pretty good, so we asked him: ‘Could you imagine coming to us?’ and he said, ‘Yes, of course’.

When he got to the under-15s, I was his coach. It was a very good time, I think, because we were very successful. Our philosophy at Bayern Munich was to play our younger players against older teams. We played with our under-15s in an under-17s league. It was very hard, but I think that was an important concept for us.

We had a lot of brilliant players. Not really fast ones, not players who were amazing athletes, but those who had a good mindset and a very special type of game intelligence

The age difference — and the artificial disadvantages it exposed the young players to — put a premium on that game intelligence; on thinking more quickly, finding better solutions, dealing with physical deficits and, occasionally, older players not averse to roughing up a young Bayern prospect.

To some, Muller is a ferocious player — defined by his will to compete and win. Watching him now, applying himself in the same way that he did before he won everything football had to offer, there is no question that he has, to some extent, remained at the top of the sport by sheer force of will. By luck, too, because he has evaded serious injury and rarely been unavailable.

But he is also a timeless footballer whose qualities are out of step with modern trends. He is not particularly fast or technical and his strength is hardly overwhelming, yet he has so often profited from being first to a loose ball or quickest to anticipate how a passage of play might develop. He does not clip passes around the pitch or play with an obvious subtlety, but managed — at the peak of his career — to be one of the foremost creators in European football.

We would always be limiting touches in training. We would play with one touch, two touches — or with three touches and then with one. It was never the same. Everything would be changing. We would move the goals, too, or play with only one goal, or even three

We would mix up the duels: two vs two, three vs one, two vs three. These are all components that are very important in developing game intelligence — in getting players to be clever. If you don’t have the body to handle the situation, you have to be fit in your mind

One of his greatest strengths is his family. I love his father. For a developing player, it’s very important to have a father like that. He was always supporting him but always in the background. It meant that Thomas had to learn to handle all the situations he encountered for himself. Whether he was playing or not playing — things like that. He knew that his family was always there, but he was alone in those moments.

Then, after each season, his father would have a conversation with one of the coaches or with me. After the season, he’d ask me, ‘What do you think about his development this season? Is it OK? Is it not OK? Can he improve something?’

In that lies the most likely explanation for why Muller has been so important to such a long line of coaches, from Louis van Gaal to Jupp Heynckes, Pep Guardiola to Hansi Flick. On and on, regardless of formation or philosophy, like a footballer impervious to change, happy to live on his wits.

And that adaptability seems to afford him special status. Nobody has anything bad to say about Muller. Rival supporters might envy his medal collection and Bayern Munich’s success inspires plenty of resentment, but little of it is drawn towards him despite being such an obvious symbol of their dominance.

How can that be?

Thomas Müller is Thomas Müller. Sometimes, you see players play a role — you see them perform for the cameras — but Thomas doesn’t do that. He never has. He doesn’t have those insecurities and he is not an actor.

He is what you see, all the time

[oftlunarialmoon]

75 Agere Journal Prompts

Draw yourself a kawaii bento lunch!

Write down any chores for the day as a to-do list or sticker check off list

Design a smol outfit

Make a playlist for your littlespace

Draw portraits of your stuffies

Write your headcanons for your comfort characters as caregivers

Write down some animal facts from different parts of the world that interest you!

List items that are your favorite color

Make a magazine collage with a specific theme

List ideas you want to do in certain seasons

List your favorite agere nicknames

Write down any agere headcanons you have for fictional characters or OCs

List stuffie name ideas

List all your current stuffie names

List your favorite phone apps for littlespace

Make a tier list of your opinions on different types of candy

Draw what your favorite characters would look like as stuffies

Invent a new kidcore fashion trend

List 5 facts about your favorite sea animal

Design your Jolly Roger if you were a pirate

Draw yourself as a Pokemon Trainer

List how you deal with stress in agere methods

Write out any recipes you can make while regressed

List crafts you’d like to make

Make a page about your morning routine when regressed

Make a page about your night time routine when regressed

Write out any rules or guidelines you have when regressed

What’s on your Agere/Littlespace Movies list?

Write about what you would do on a visit to the beach

List any animes you like when small

List your favorite agere books

Dear Past Me - What would you tell your past self?

Dear Future Me - What would you tell your future self?

List songs that make you regress

List your regression triggers (positive or negative)

Write about how you would comfort a friend in need

Write about your dream vacation

Make your christmas/birthday/holiday gift wishlist

List your fave agere video games

List your favorite stims

Write a letter to your favorite fictional character

Write a letter to a friend or family member

Play I spy and write down the categories and things you find

Make a page of your top 5 agere songs from the last month

List free activities you can do when regressed

Make a collage page from a coloring sheet and stickers

Play scavenger hunt with stickers of your preferred theme

Use a page to write down word games like word scrambles and mad libs

Fill a page with positive messages for yourself to read later

Write down tarot interpretations if you do tarot reading while smol

List ideas for kandi bracelets you could make

Declare a random day a holiday of some kind, write down how you celebrate it

Use a page to “braindump” all of your current thoughts, even if it’s babbling

Make a sticker collage inspired by your caregiver

Make a sticker collage inspired by the seasons

Trace your hand onto the page and give yourself fun nail art, tattoos, or accessories

Draw a race track for a toy car, add obstacles or scenery with stickers

Write a social media profile page for a comfort character

Make a “top secret” file with your stuffie’s secrets >:)

Make a collage inspired by yourself

Dedicate a page to facts about one of your special interests

Write a poem for your pet (or fave stuffie!)

Draw a scene around a sticker of your favorite animal

Draw the inside of a house and use stickers to furnish and decorate it

Draw a scene to play with your toys in

Try a mindful reset page (List problems you’re facing, then list more positive mindset changes to each one)

Document the stories you play out with dolls or toys

Write down “this or that” prompts in one color then answer them in another color !

Use stickers to tell a story or make a fun comic

Fill a page with word art, using any words that make you feel smol

Make a list of all of your OCs

Use a page to document Minecraft coordinates of your favorite builds

Draw the outline of a purse or bag, and use stickers to show what a character of your choice would have in their bag, or-

Use stickers to show what you would put in your dream agere bag!

Draw a face on a page in marker or pen, and use makeup to decorate it! (or face paint :p)

[louisupdates]

Louis Tomlinson Introduces 28: a Brand Embodying His British Upbringing, Musical Flair, and Football Heritage

Hypebeast sits down with the Doncaster-raised superstar to discover how he channeled his passions into a community-focused streetwear brand.

Many know Louis Tomlinson as a Doncaster lad-turned-pop-icon and part of era-defining boyband, One Direction. But despite his superstar status, the 31-year-old has never lost touch with his relaxed Northern soul. It’s been central to everything he puts his mind to, from music to football… and now, fashion.

After fighting his way through X Factor, growing his talent in One Direction, and going solo after their break-up in 2015, Tomlinson split fresh ground while keeping authenticity at the forefront. Embracing the rockstar lifestyle, he has traveled worldwide on his own terms, revolutionizing his sound through chart-topping hits, including Bigger Than Me, Change, and Silver Tongues.

Now fiercely independent, Tomlinson is continuing to make strides that set him apart from the crowd, releasing his debut solo album Walls in early 2020. Leaving the pop-forward One Direction sound behind, Tomlinson embarked on a journey of self-discovery by embracing his British roots and revitalizing his musical journey with a fresh mindset.

After returning to London from the third edition of his Away From Home festival in Lido di Camaiore, Italy, Tomlinson prepares to continue his global album tour for Faith in the Future across Europe. But there’s much more than music on his mind these days – before he jets off on tour, he’s sitting down with Hypebeast to discuss all things 28, his all-new streetwear label that embodies everything he has been, is, and will be.

Growing up in Northern England naturally gravitated Tomlinson to football, selling pies at his boyhood club, Doncaster Rovers. But he’s kept a keen eye on fashion since his early childhood. “When I grew up, I viewed Doncaster as a working-class town. Now, when I go back to Doncaster, the streets have a real sense of style. That wasn’t the norm for me growing up; there was just scruffy and cool — there was really no in-between. We couldn’t afford really nice clothes, so it was just about working with what you got.”

Standing out has always been of utmost importance for Tomlinson, aligning his laidback attitude with the clothes on his back. Football tops were always a staple, taking to vintage and charity shops to find hidden gems that strayed from normality. “It was always important for me to look cool as a young lad, and I always enjoyed wearing good clothes. You might think, in a place like Doncaster, that it isn’t about fashion — and fashion might be the wrong word — because the thing that would turn people’s noses was that everyone is striving to look cool.”

Known for wearing striped tees and suspenders in One Direction, Tomlinson grew into his true self after the band’s hiatus, returning to his Doncaster roots and embracing comfort at all times. “As a young lad going into a business like this, you are surrounded by people telling you what’s cool and what isn’t. I’d say the boys could relate to this; you have to go through the motions of letting the industry tell you what they think you should do — because you don’t have enough confidence in that world yet to say: actually, no, I want to dress how I want to dress,” the singer-songwriter explains.

He grew up wearing essential British tracksuits, football tops, and trainers, drastically different from the boyband style that had every member dressed in “uniform.” “It’s only as I’ve grown confident in myself that I started to revert back to how I dressed as a young lad, just a kind of modern example of that. I really do wear Doncaster on every item of clothing that I put on, even if it’s subconscious, it’s so much a part of who I am.”

Launching 28 is a tribute to his humble beginnings in music, fashion, and sport, representing his Doncaster Rovers squad number and his lifetime devotion to the football club. The brand idea came to him nearly a decade ago, taking a closer look at standard tour merchandise and finding missing pieces, feeling “a creative itch that I wanted to scratch.”

28’s first drop is a tribute to all things football, embracing the beautiful game through vintage-inspired sports silhouettes destined for summertime. Checkered green tracksuits are ideal for pre-game antics, featuring distorted and faded patterns alongside “OFFICIAL PROGRAMME” collared jerseys.

While concert apparel caterers to the general public, 28 allows his artistic talents to run wild. “That’s why 28 excites me. It’s something that can be a little bit more tailored, a little bit more stylized. I suppose it’s similar to songwriting… seeing how deep your imagination can go when creating clothes.”

When designing 28’s first drop, Tomlinson pushed comfort forward through quality craftsmanship and refined fabric manipulations. His ideas feature heavily across every design, architected on lightweight hoodies, turtleneck collars, and distressed knitwear. Abstract floral illustrations bloom on additional designs, complementing the collection with a neutral color palette. Collections will release on the 28th of each month, expanding its sportswear identity one step at a time.

28 is undeniably football-focused, making clothes he would identify with as a young boy growing up in “Donny.” Tomlinson aims to bring his community together with interactive drops and a story to tell, enlisting emerging creatives to front the brand’s first campaign. “Community is something that runs throughout everything I do, and after getting the casting ideas for the models, I knew I wanted to use street models. I didn’t want to use that traditional model face because that’s not what I grew up with,” Tomlinson says.

“If I picture that rough lad I grew up with in Doncaster, he certainly didn’t have that look — he just looked cool in the clothes,” Tomlinson says with a wide smile, “There’s a beautiful authenticity to that. I think there’s a more interesting way and authentic way of telling these stories for 28.” While Tomlinson is the brand’s Creative Director, he sees 28 standing on its own two feet without his face attached, building a core community within its evolving identity.

So what’s in store next for Tomlinson? “I’m going back on tour, which is my favorite thing to do. At some point, there’ll be a new record. I don’t know when, though; I’m trying not to put too much pressure on myself and just trying to enjoy it. I’m mostly tour-focused right now — that’s why I love creating 28 — because it means that when my brain is all on touring and music, it’s creatively fulfilling to get into something else and scratch that itch.”

TEXT BY

Andrea Sacal