#if we say ‘i am allowed to need support and i don’t deserve to have to compensate for my disability because it’s not a flaw to be overcome’

[firefly-fez]

Any other ADHDers out there really identify with being disabled/disability but get scared to call yourself disabled around other people because you feel like yours ‘doesn’t count’ and it’s ‘not as bad’, and like, maybe you’re not disabled enough to have the right to talk about disability?

haha its fine

[luveline]

hi lovely :) i have a request for you!!

i’m thinking spencer reid x reader (and platonic!bau team if you don’t mind!!) where reader is having a bit of a rough time with mental health, but is 1 year clean and they have a lil celebration? thank you!!

-🍓 (this is my application for being an emoji anon lmao)

hi, thank you! ♡ fem 1k

cw implied drug use

You're expecting your boyfriend's voice when a hand touches your shoulder, but it's actually Hotch that speaks. "Good morning. Are you feeling alright?" 

You meet his furrowed brow with a softer expression. "Morning, Hotch. I'm good, I'm," —you stretch your arms out in front of you in a lie— "just really tired." 

"Take it easy today, okay?" You nod quickly. "Okay. And Y/N? Well done." 

You enjoy the shoulder squeeze he gives you and hide your abject puzzlement as he heads up the steps to his office, briefcase in hand. It's always nice to be doted on, but what's today? 

"Hello," a new voice says, a hand again on your shoulder, ducking down to kiss you behind the ear. Here's your expected boyfriend, Spencer's voice low and spectacularly sweet, "Good morning. You're here early, I haven't even made you coffee." 

"That's okay, I can make it." 

His arms cross over your chest. He touches you so confidently, his lack of hesitance a great encouragement; it's hard to find room to feel insecure about things when Spencer seems to see no faults in you. Hard, but not impossible. 

As though he can sense your rough morning (rough week, rough month), he holds you that second longer than usual, lips like angora silk where they touch to your cheek. "I'll make it, thanks. It's the least you deserve today." 

"Right," you say. He strokes your shoulder with his thumb in farewell, leaving you wondering. Today isn't your birthday, you'd probably know if it were. 

"Hey, good morning!" Emily says as she arrives, thrusting her bag and her travel mug onto her desk before she descends on you. 

It's her hug that breaks the camel's back, so to speak. You give her hands an absent minded hold but pull back in her embrace. "Emily," you say, frowning at her, "what's so special about today?" 

She blinks like she's worried to tell you, but she gets it together and hugs you again. "You're one year clean today. Everybody's so proud of you," she says quietly. 

You almost bite the tip of your tongue off. "How do you know that?" you ask. The thing about staying clean is that it haunts you until it doesn't. Some people can't ever beat it, and some people can. It's been a huge struggle for you, but eventually relapsing stopped feeling like an option, especially while you've been with Spencer. You can't do anything to jeopardise your safety while you're with him, you just can't. (That doesn't mean you haven't desperately wanted to.)

"Well, I knew it would've been around now, but Spencer sent us a memo. Nothing too detailed, you know, but we all…" She smiles at you wryly. "We care about you so much, and we didn't get it right with Spencer." 

No, they didn't. Spencer didn't get half the support he deserved, so he's making sure you do. 

There's something of a mental block in you that doesn't allow you to cry, but this shakes you roughly. Emily gives you a sorry smile and a last quick hug, apologising that she has to go and speak to Hotch before the work day officially begins. You lean back in your chair and click dazedly on an email from Penelope detailing how deeply loved you are and wondering if you'd like to go shopping. I know today might be really hard, so if you need me you know where I am. Love Pen. 

"You okay?" Spencer asks, placing your coffee in front of you on the desk. 

"Come and sit with me for a bit." 

You don't sound like you're asking, but you are. Spencer hears the need in your demand and immediately grabs his chair to sit next to you. You're surprised he didn't squat. 

You turn your face, lay your cheek on the short back of the chair uncomfortably, and take him in. He looks great these days, the memory of a young man firmly buried beneath a well-fitting suit, a cropping of facial hair, and the subtle, lean lines of muscle especially evident as he sits back to copy you, curls falling into his eyes. "You told everyone about my anniversary." 

"Your accomplishment," he corrects quietly. "I did." 

"I do want them to know, just… I feel a bit raw." You hardly remembered yourself, though you knew it was soon. 

Spencer takes your hand, pulling the joined pair between his knees. "It's something to be extremely proud of. And there's nothing wrong with celebrating it." 

"It's embarrassing–" 

"It isn't." He sits up as someone comes closer and you follow suit. This is a complicated conversation and your simple intimacies are necessary but inappropriate in the workplace. "I'm sure there are a ton of people who find sobriety embarrassing, but those are all people who don't know what it feels like to have to do it. We," —his voice softens— "do. I know exactly how it feels, and I know exactly how you've been feeling lately, so I'm proud of you and everyone else should be too." 

"How I've been feeling lately?" you ask. 

"Come on." Spencer stands and takes your face into his hands. One is warmer than the other, and he uses it to stroke the baby hair's at your ear very gently. "You do a really good job at hiding how you feel, but you can't hide from me." 

"I'm not trying to." 

"Good," he says, leaning down to kiss you. A soft, brisk connection. "I love you." 

"Not as much as I do, loverboy!" Morgan says as he arrives, giving Spencer a little nudge as he needles his arms behind your back and kisses your cheek. 

"You're squeezing me." 

"Have I told you lately how much I love you?" Morgan asks, squeezing your harder. 

"Morgan, she knows you know." 

"Know what?" 

"You didn't see the memo?" Spencer asks. 

"What memo?" Morgan grins at you with pearly white teeth and scrubs at your shoulders until you're squirming at the pressure. It's nice. "Looking good, gorgeous." 

[cleolinda]

I’ve read a few of the umpteen thousand upset comments about the paid Watcher service, and I’ve read comments angry about the upset comments. There’s one thing I want to point out, and it’s that this isn’t, or shouldn’t be, “You’re saying people don’t deserve to earn money for their work.”

The Watcher guys do deserve to earn money. I already give them money. I give them $5 a month on Patreon, not because I think they do or don’t give me $5 worth of media, but because I want to support them. I canceled Netflix for pissing me off with its price hike/ad tier, but I give Watcher Entertainment money.

They’re saying now that the Patreon will be solely about the podcasts, and they understand if people leave. I’m perfectly happy to switch the support I can afford to the streaming service. With the early adopter 30% discount, I’d actually save money. In fact, I tried to subscribe, but the site didn’t work.

Watcher wanting to profit from their shows isn’t the problem. It’s that they’re now discovering that their fanbase is young and broke in a terrible economy, judging by tens of thousands of comments on multiple platforms. I can throw them $5/month, so I do. But the Patreon only has (checks notes) 5874 paying followers, and there’s a reason for that. $60/year upfront would not be “accessible.” Patreon is literally patronage from the people who can afford it.

If the guys had said up front, “ONLY new shows and episodes will be exclusive to the service,” I think we’d be having a different conversation right now. But at first they did say, “We’re pulling all our content from YouTube,” to the point where Variety had to issue an update. Like, that’s in print and I’m pretty sure it was on video. Now they’ve backtracked to ONLY new etc.—but most people haven’t heard, and they feel crushed. And the trust is probably gone regardless.

So now four years of back catalogue will stay public. And now, you’re paying $6.99 a month for one episode, maybe two, of something a week, and now, not an exclusive back catalogue. I would pay for Watcher shows before I’d pay for anyone else, but I just don’t think the company is big enough yet for a SVOD at that price. They’re not Dropout size. They needed to build more programming and get a higher follower count first, or at the very least, charge less.

The international price/exchange rate situation is a nightmare and I don’t know what it is they’re not doing to make it… not… be like that.

I don’t know what they should have done instead of a full streaming service, but surely there were alternatives? I’ve seen comments from people suggesting they GET a Patreon. Lean on that more! Do the shows exclusive for a month and then let them roll onto YouTube! I don’t know! Anything but One More Fucking Streaming Service, which enraged me, and I was willing to move my support to it!

And I shouldn’t say this, but I will. In the “Goodbye YouTube” video the guys posted, they say that setting up the streaming service has allowed Steven to do a remake of Worth It where he and his cohosts travel the world and eat expensive food. This is the first new show they announce. Not “We have always been committed to diversity and we’re now able to bring on new creator(s) to expand our programming.” No, a redo of an old show that by definition has got to be expensive. Commenters are saying they can’t pay for the streaming service because they can’t make ends meet in this economy. The optics are terrible. I genuinely question what the thought process even was here.

I love the guys and I still watch their shows. I want to see Watcher succeed. I started watching Buzzfeed Unsolved in 2018 while recovering from surgery—as with a lot of people, their shows got me through a tough time. I’m as attached as anyone. If I can continue to afford monthly support—this is not a certainty—I’ll give it to them. I’m not a ~hater who doesn’t want Watcher to make money. But I am absolutely BAFFLED by every single decision here. I want them to figure out how to turn this around and go in a better direction, because right now, this ain’t it.

[copper-16]

First Meetings

Elena attends her first football youth team camp, and meets someone who, though she doesn’t realize it at the time, will become a very important person in her life.

(a/n: I must admit this is probably one my more favorite Elena stories I’ve written, so if anyone has anymore ideas that involve older Elena and this new OC we meet here you’d be my new best friend cause I wanna write more about them 🥹)

The first national team camp Elena was ever invited to was when she was only fourteen years old. The call had been to Ingrid, who was then immediately turning to Mapi with a huge smile on her face. 

Partly because it was their daughters first call up, and partly because it had been Norway who had come knocking on her door. 

Mapi and Ingrid would always argue (playfully, most of the time), about which country their daughter would represent, should she choose the path of becoming a professional athlete. 

And while it didn’t matter in the end, for their daughter chose instead to become a doctor as opposed to an athlete, she did spend a good bit of her youth playing both football and handball, very competitively. 

She had been in La Masia, and showed great promise as a future defender, so it really wasn’t much of a surprise to anyone involved when Elena was selected for Norway’s U16 camp, despite the fact that she was only fourteen. 

And though both Ingrid and Mapi were excited (once a certain Spaniard got over being butthurt that it wasn’t Spain who had come calling), they left the ultimate decision up to Elena on whether or not she wanted to go. 

“Mi sol, at the end of the day the choice is yours. You are allowed to do whatever you would like, your Mama and I would always support that,” Mapi reassured gently, and Elena nodded her head slowly, but she still looked rather unsure. 

“Thank you Mami, I appreciate it, I really do. I just…is there any way I could have a minute before I decide?” The teenager asked gently, and her mother nodded easily. 

“Take all the time you need, there is no rush,” Mapi promised, squeezing her daughter's shoulder gently before the girl slipped away. But instead of heading for her room as the Spaniard expected her to, she headed for the balcony instead.

Elena pulled out her phone carefully from her pocket as she shut the door behind her, staring at it for a few moments before clicking open to her contacts. She hit dial before holding it up to her ear, listening to the line ring before it clicked, signifying that her godmother had picked up the phone

“Elena, pequeña! What have I done to deserve a phone call from my favorite goddaughter?” Alexia practically yelled into the phone, not exactly helping the argument that she ‘wasn’t old’ and ‘understood technology completely.’ The girl rolled her eyes at her godmother's antics, even if she knew to expect them. 

“Tia, I am your ONLY goddaughter,” Elena reminded her, but there was a smile on her face regardless.

“Ah semantics semantics! What is up pequeña, how are you?” Alexia asked, her voice a little more soft and gentle now. It wasn’t exactly a common occurrence for the green eyed girl to call the blonde like this out of the blue, so the former Barcelona captain made sure to seem extra attentive. 

“Oh I’m good,” Elena said carefully, before she went quiet. Alexia didn’t respond, sensing that there was more the younger girl wanted to say. 

“I got invited to a U16 camp, with Norway,” she finally forced out quietly, bracing herself for the former Barcelona captain to gasp, to scream, to get all excited. She had been preparing herself for Alexia to lose her mind, to be so excited that she wouldn’t even listen to Elena’s concerns. 

But it never came. 

“You don’t sound excited pequeña,” Alexia commented lightly, her tone filled with more protectiveness than excitement, and no judgment whatsoever. As much as Alexia wanted her goddaughter to be a footballer, same as her mothers, she cared far more about her well-being than anything else as trivial as her career. 

Elena sighed, fiddling with the hem of her shirt as she tried to organize her thoughts appropriately, in a way that was understandable. 

“I am excited, but I’m also…I don’t know. I’m not even sure if I want to be a footballer, is it silly of me to consider even going?” Elena asked, her insecurity poking through in her tone.

“Oh course you can still go, even if you are not sure. There is no requirement, it is not a contract that states that if you go now, you are obligated to become a footballer,” Alexia reminded gently. Her words were soft, and Elena clung to how secure her tone was, as though she held all of the answers to every problem the teenager had ever had. 

It was one thing for her mothers to tell her, but for Alexia to? It was somehow better, hearing it from her mouth. As biased as Alexia was, because she loved her, she had always been honest with Elena too. 

“Yes but…well there are people like you who are or were SO sure of what they want to do, and would I be taking up someone else’s spot by committing when I’m not even sure football is what I want to do? I love it, I know I do, but I’m just not sure that it’s what I want for the rest of my life,” Elena explained, and it was not a new thought in her mind but it was still hard to say, because she’d never spoken the thought aloud to someone. Not even her mothers, who were inside the living room trying very hard to pretend like they weren’t eavesdropping on the entire conversation. 

Mapi was practically sitting on Ingrid’s lap, she was leaning so far over her wife as she angled her body and ears toward the balcony, even if she couldn’t hear much with the door being closed.  

“Elena, for as many people who are sure, there are a hundred more who are not. You are fourteen, you are not supposed to have everything figured out right now. Look at people like Salma, she couldn’t decide until she was practically eighty years old what sport she wanted to do!” Alexia exclaimed, and even though Salma had picked her sport at nineteen and not eighty, it still managed to elicit a small laugh from her goddaughter. 

“You deserve to be there, that is why they called you up! This is a chance for you to go and see if you like it. That’s what youth team camps are all about,” Alexia insisted, and there was a pause on the line before the teenager spoke again.

“But also…what if they don’t like me Alexia? What if I am not Norwegian enough for them, or not good enough at football, or I’m weird and young and I don’t make any friends?” Elena said all in a rush, dumping out the bucket of her worries to be sifted through by her ever loving godmother. 

“Oh Elena. They are going to LOVE you, because you are kind and considerate and compassionate. The rest of it isn’t important, you just need to go in there and be kind and you will make friends, I promise. And hey, who knows, some of the girls there might be international as well! Some of your mothers old teammates have children, many of whom were all raised in different countries,” Alexia rattled patiently, remembering acutely how worried she had been when she had begun to be called up to national team camps. She tries her hardest to tell Elena what she needed to be told when she was a young girl, with nobody to give her this advice first hand. 

“I remember when I was younger, god I was a disaster at youth team camps! I was so awkward and shy, but the girls were still always so nice and welcoming, I didn’t have much time to feel self conscious about it,” the midfielder remembered fondly, chuckling to herself as she thought back on the memory. 

Oh, if only I had managed to grow out of my social anxiety as I got older, she thought wryly, before focusing back on the conversation. 

“And hey, at the worst? It’s only two weeks. Two weeks of just giving it a try, and then at least you can say that you did it. If you don’t like it, nobody will force you to go back,” Alexia promised.

“And you’d still…still be proud of me? Even if I hated it and never wanted to play football again because it was so terrible?” Elena asked quietly, her voice soft.

“Elena, I would be proud of you if you went on to win the Ballon d’Or, or if you never touched a football again in your entire life. I will always be proud of you, no matter what you do. But for the record, I don’t think it’s going to be that bad, but even if it went terribly, I will still love you,” Alexia insisted, and it’s the truth. Years later, when Elena graduates from medical school, it will be Alexia who skips the Ballon d’Or ceremony that she had been invited to present at, in order to sit in the front row with Mapi and Ingrid’s family, screaming when her goddaughter walked across the stage to receive her degree. 

But for now, she is content to love the teenager in whatever way she needs, including when she is just trying to figure out what she wants to do in life. 

“Thank you Alexia. I love you,” Elena whispered, her throat suddenly tight with how grateful she is to have her godmother in her life. 

To the rest of the world, Alexia might be the terrifying former Barcelona captain, one of the best players of their generation, but to Elena? She had always been the woman whose face lit up when she walked in the room, the woman who adored spending time with her and reading stories and gave her the best hugs. 

“I love you too pequeña, always,” Alexia insists, wishing her goddaughter goodnight before they hung up the phone. 

With a renewed sense of sureness, Elena marched back inside with determination and right over to where her mothers were sitting together on the couch, pressed up against one another as they tried to pretend that they weren’t entirely focused on the balcony. 

The dark haired teenager raised her eyebrow slightly at the upside down crossword Mapi was pretending to complete and the fact that Ingrid was staring at her wife like she was trying to memorize the silhouette of her face despite the fact that they spent every single day together. She knew they were just doing their best, and that they were both far too nosy for their own good. 

“I would like to go to the youth camp,” she declared, and both Ingrid and Mapi smiled brightly at their daughter as they nodded their agreement, happy to see that she was so sure of herself. 

—

Ingrid had flown out to Oslo with Elena, but she only stayed long enough to drop her off at the hotel and check her in with the staff members. The players were going directly to training, where parents really weren’t supposed to go, and Ingrid hadn’t really planned to spend a whole ton of time around unless Elena needed her to, for some reason.  

It wasn’t the first time Elena had said goodbye to her mother before they separated for something like this, but it did feel weird to know that she wouldn’t see either of her parents for a whole two weeks. 

She clings to the Norwegian for a hair too long, her grip tighter than it’s been in awhile. She feels young again, much younger than she actually is. Luckily, Ingrid’s love is readily available, and she doesn’t comment on her daughter's slightly desperate grip. 

“You’re going to be just fine, Elena. I love you, you call me if you need anything okay? Your Mami and I will call you once a day at least but if you need us more than that we are only a phone call away. And we can always hop on a flight if you need us!” Ingrid rambled, knowing that when she stopped talking she would have to leave. 

“I will be okay Mama. I’ll be sure to call you and Mami a lot to tell you about everything. I love you!” Elena called out as she finally forced herself away, leaving with one of the trainers to get settled in her hotel room before training commenced in a bit. 

She got her stuff settled in the room, noticing that another girl had already placed her luggage on the opposite side of the room. The green eyed girl wondered briefly who her roommate would be, but she didn’t have much time to think on it when someone came to get her for training. 

She was one of the last to arrive, and therefore by the time she had arrived out to the pitch, all of the girls were starting to warm up. 

Most of the girls are older than she is, standing in groups as they all laughed and chatted in a variety of languages. Elena was generally a pretty outgoing person in most circumstances, but this admittedly made her more nervous than usual. 

A lot of the girls seemed to already have groups of friends, and seemed older than her. It felt awkward to go up and introduce herself to these random people who already had a set friend group. 

She could see Frida and Emma’s daughter Kajsa in a group with a few other girls. Her mother had told her that Kajsa would be there, but the two didn’t know one another, because Kajsa was nearly two years older than she was. 

She noticed a few of the girls were standing by themselves off to the side, and she surveyed them quickly to determine who to walk up to. Most of them looked pretty focused, staring intently at the ball they were working with, clearly deep within their thoughts. 

She clocked Valeria, Marta and Caro’s daughter, but the look on her face is dark and filled with a determination that offsets Elena from feeling willing to go up to her. 

When she turned to her right, there was a girl who looked to be a little younger than the rest, much like herself, who was juggling the ball off to the side of the group. She had light brown, almost mousy hair, and unlike the other girls who were by themselves, she had a bright smile as she looked down at the ball. 

She actually looked like she was having fun, and Elena isn’t entirely sure what makes her feet start moving, but all the sudden she’s standing right in front of her, clearing her throat and greeting the girl. 

“Hi,” Elena said softly as she walked over, a wash of nerves. The girl looked up at her in surprise, her mouth forming a little “o” as she stared back at the other girl. The ball fell listlessly at her feet, and she offered a slightly shy smile of her own back. 

“Hey,” she replied, her voice soft and calm. She seemed quite nervous, her outward behavior a direct reflection of what Elena was feeling on the inside. 

“I’m Elena,” the teenager introduced, and the girl seemed to perk up slightly. She seemed very shy, and if there was one thing the green eyed girl was good at, it was getting introverts out of their shell. 

“My name is Kaia,” she echoed Elena’s greeting, and the Barcelona native couldn’t help the grin that broke out onto her face at the flush that was peaking through Kaia’s cheeks. 

The taller girl's accent was strange, no matter what language she spoke. Her Norwegian was accented, and so was her English, and Elena couldn’t put her finger on it until they were hanging out in their room later that night. 

The two had been selected to room together for the two weeks, so it really was serendipitous that Elena had chosen to go up to Kaia as opposed to any of the other girls who were by themselves. 

They were sitting in their respective beds in their hotel room later that night, when the taller girl turned toward Elena with an air of nerves around her. 

“Is it okay if I call my mums?” She asked, and the Spanish Norwegian immediately furrowed her brows. Kaia clearly takes it as being more malicious and less as the confusion it really is, as the dark haired girl tried to figure out if what she had said was the truth. Kaia had experienced plenty of teasing in her youth from her peers about her two mothers, and she immediately draws back in on herself as a result. 

“Yeah I…I have two mums,” she said softly, but the confusion shifted to her when Elena smiled brightly at her sentence. 

“Me too!” She exclaimed, and Kaia’s mouth flopped open, her reservations fleeing her with the drop of a hat practically. 

“Really?!” The taller girl asked in amazement, her whole face lighting up in relief. She didn’t often meet many others who could say this. 

“Yeah, I do! They used to play on the same football team together, that’s where they met,” Elena explained, and once again Kaia looked at her new friend in complete surprise. 

“That’s exactly what happened with my mums too! Do you want to meet them?” Kaia asked earnestly, and Elena nodded before she bounded over to the other bed, stuffing her smaller body close next to Kaia’s as the girl FaceTimed her mothers. 

“Hello darling!” Elena recognized Fran Kirby by both her appearance and accent in half a second, understanding settling over her. She remembered her mother telling her that Maren and Fran had a daughter her age, but she didn’t know that Kaia would be here. 

Suddenly, Kaia’s English accented Norwegian, and Norwegian accented English were starting to make sense. The accents made sense when she could place exactly where they had come from. 

“Mum, this is my friend Elena,” Kaia introduced, and the dark haired girl watched in amusement as Maren poked her head into the camera frame as well, a big smile on her face. 

“You’re Ingrid and Mapi’s daughter, right?” Maren asked kindly, and Elena nodded eagerly, waving hello to the older woman she had met several times. 

“You guys have met each other before, but only when you were babies!” Fran recalled, a statement Maren agreed with readily. 

Ingrid is equally as excited about Elena’s befriending of Kaia when they call her and Mapi right after, the two girls regaling their day at training in long detail.

Okay, it’s a lot of Elena talking in long tangents as Kaia listens patiently, adding in a few details here and there. But the older girl seems completely content to listen to Elena speak, capturing every small detail and little moment. 

For the two weeks they are at camp, the fourteen and fifteen year old are entirely inseparable. They eat together, train together, and when one of them gets lonely, they crawl into the other's bed to hang out and talk far past when they were supposed to go to bed (neither of them are aware that when they are older, they’ll spend every single night like that, together). 

Kaia followed Elena around almost like a lost puppy, and the dark haired girl happily drug her everywhere she went. It was easy for Elena to pull Kaia out of her shell, natural really, and they clearly fit together really well. 

It’s clear to anyone with eyeballs that Kaia has a crush on Elena, but neither of them are quite old enough to pick up on it. All they know is that they both loved spending time with one another, although neither of them realized just how much until later in life. 

But as relationships usually are when you are young, when the two girls leave camp, despite having exchanged phone numbers, they fall out of touch with one another. Kaia lives in England, and Elena still lives in Barcelona, and the opportunities for them to see one another in person are rare. 

They still follow one another through social media, and the occasional texting conversation. When Kaia gets her first Lioness call up at just 17, Elena is one of the first people to text her congratulations. And when Elena graduates primary school, Kaia of course texts her to congratulate her as well, thrilled for her friend. 

But nothing feels quite the same as when they were younger, and Elena tried to accept that. She tried to move on, unsure of why she was so stuck on some two week friendship that, in the grand scheme of things, shouldn’t really have meant anything. 

Or would it? 

Luckily, their distance wasn’t something she’d have to accept for forever. 

—

Elena had just gotten out of one of her university classes when she felt her phone buzzing in her pocket, and she reached down to fish it out. 

The dark haired girl couldn’t stop the shock she felt traveling through her when she saw the name on her phone, and the contact pictured attached, signaling who was calling her. 

It was an old photo, one from four years ago in fact, and it felt like a time capsule, pulling the green eyed girl back to a time of football camps and giggling under the covers with one of the funniest people she had ever met. A time of spending two weeks attached at the hip with a shy girl who blushed when she held her hand to drag her toward the gym, who always passed her the ball even though she clearly wasn’t the best player at camp. 

She stared at Kaia’s picture for so long she almost forgot to accept the phone call, and she scrambled to do so before the ringing ceased. 

“Kaia?” She asks into her phone almost breathlessly, despite the fact that she’s standing still. Her heart is pounding in her chest, and she’s not entirely sure why. Her and Kaia haven’t spoken really since they were fourteen and fifteen, and they were eighteen and nineteen now. 

It was too long for her reaction to be this visceral, but it still is, for some reason. She can’t explain it, she doesn’t want it to ever go away, though. 

“Hi Elena,” Kaia says softly, and her voice is lower and more mature, but it’s still Kaia. It warms Elena’s heart immensely, and she smiles despite the fact that the English footballer can’t see her. 

“How are you?” The dark haired girl asked, genuinely curious. She could have picked up the phone and called, she knew that, but for some reason she hadn’t. 

It felt even more strange for Kaia to be calling. Shy, quiet, sometimes awkward Kaia, who sometimes people thought was mean, but Elena knew it was really just that she spent far too much time in her own head. 

Although, she didn’t look all that awkward when she was on a football pitch, scoring goals like she was born to be a nine. She was brilliant, if a bit inexperienced. 

“I’m, I’m good. Really good actually. But I, well, I need your help with something,” Kaia explained quickly, and Elena raised her brow but asked what the striker needed all the same. 

“You spent last summer in Sweden right?” Kaia asked, and when Elena confirmed it, she continued. The green eyed girl had gone to spend the summer with Frido, and even Ingrid and Mapi had come for a few weeks on holiday as well.  “I’m going on loan to Hammarby for the season to get some more experience, and I was hoping you had any some tips on how to get around, or your favorite spots. Or any of the slang they’re using nowadays, it’s been an embarrassingly long amount of time since I’ve been back to Norway, and the only Norwegian I’m speaking nowadays is with Mom,” she revealed, and Elena felt her heart flutter in her chest. 

If she were thinking about it logically, it would be a little suspicious. Plenty of the girls who they played with in the youth teams were actually playing in Sweden, and probably knew much better than Elena did from just a summer spent with Frido in the countryside. 

And there was always the fact that her mother probably knew dozens of Swedes, who again would know better than the Barcelona based Spaniard. 

But she doesn’t care, because Kaia is calling her, and suddenly she has an excuse to talk to the girl who she’s been unable to get out of her head for years. She hadn’t realized until an embarrassingly long amount of time after the fact that it was a crush she had on Kaia back then, but as soon as she had realized she had been unable to let that go. 

Would things have been different, if they had stayed in touch afterward? She wasn’t entirely sure, but it didn’t matter. Maybe they could be friends now, if nothing else. 

Even if it isn’t going to turn into anything, she’d rather have a tiny bit of Kaia than nothing at all. She doubted Kaia would ever feel the same about her, and how could she? Sweet, brilliant, talented, soon to be famous Kaia, who would never fall for the university student who had little interest in the fame and money that football wanted. 

(Oh, if only she knew that Kaia wanted every single part of her, wholly, completely. She always had, even when they were kids.) 

—

Elena rolled over in her sleep, and unlike usual, there was an object blocking her from doing so fully. 

An object that smelled like jasmine and everything safe in the world, and the dark haired woman instantly turned to burrow into it, clinging tightly to the woman in her bed. 

Strong arms pulled her in tightly, and she blinked her eyes open sleepily to find that Kaia was smiling down at her, before the hazel eyed woman held her face gently in her hands, leaning forward to press a resounding kiss to her forehead. 

“Good morning,” she said softly, before she moved to bring Elena further into her, pressing their bodies together as she had longed to do for what felt like years. The smaller woman allowed her body to be moved easily, wrapping her own arms around Kaia and holding her close.

“You weren’t supposed to get in until later today?” She says in lieu of a greeting, her voice raspy and soft as she allows herself to stay nestled against her girlfriend. It's been over a month since they last saw one another, with their respective busy schedules. 

“I took an earlier flight. I wanted to see you sooner,” Kaia admits sheepishly, her nose twinging with pink as it gives away how clearly besotted she is. Elena’s eyebrows furrowed adorably in confusion as she leaned back to look her girlfriend in the eye, and the brunette reached forward to press her thumb to the space between her eyebrows and smoothing the crease, just because she could. 

“I was asleep! That can’t be exciting enough to move your flight to get in at seven in the morning,” She protested as she looked over at the clock with a wince at how early the time was, but Kaia just let out a small laugh. 

“I firmly disagree, you are completely adorable when you are asleep, and you get all clingy in the mornings. I couldn’t stand to miss another morning of it if I didn’t have to,” Kaia argues good naturedly, and Elena smiles before she presses forward, finally kissing her girlfriend for real. She loved this version of Kaia, the one that was all soft and giggly and gentle. 

It was the version of her that only existed for the green eyed woman, and nobody else. And as much as Elena loved seeing her girlfriend score buckets of goals on the pitch, this would always be her favorite version of the woman. 

“You don’t have to miss it anymore,” the Barcelona native whispered against her lips with excitement, and could feel the curve of Kaia’s own lips as she echoed the dark haired woman’s smile. 

“Not anymore, no. I’m going in at two today to sign the contract and take photos, so you need to help me with my hair and makeup,” Kaia explained, and Elena let out a sigh of relief as she nodded, more than willing to do so. 

After her one year loan spell at Hammarby, Kaia had returned back to Chelsea until she was twenty two years old, when she had made a move to Atletico Madrid for a year. All the while, she and Elena had never lost touch after that initial phone call about Kaia’s ‘Swedish questions.’

While she was at Hammarby, Elena had come to visit her several times (as much as her school schedule allowed), and the more time they had spent together the more the two had realized that what they had went far beyond the bounds of a normal friendship. By the time Kaia was set to go back to Chelsea after her loan, the two had begun dating. 

Elena’s six year medical school program was in Barcelona, and when Kaia went to move clubs to Spain when she was 22, the only offer closer than England had been for Atletico Madrid. The couple had figured that it was better than nothing, and Elena had argued that it would give the Barcelona staff a chance to see how brilliant the English player was. 

And sure enough, she was right, because it was not more than a few months into her contract that they reached out, asking to sign the Lioness after the expiration of her one year contract with Atletico Madrid. 

All of which led them to today, after nearly five years of dating, when Kaia signed her first Barcelona contract, which would keep her in Catalonia for the next four years. 

“I love you so much,” Elena murmured as she tucked herself back into the striker, allowing herself to collapse into the sturdy arms that are wrapped around her. 

The brunette deposited a resounding kiss to the crown of her girlfriends head, cuddling closer to Elena and relishing in the closeness that they never seemed to be able to get enough of. 

And while they don’t know it at the time, they’ll never have to be without one another for the rest of their lives, luckily.

[nine-one-wanton]

Entropy

“A transfer?” Bobby said, incredulously.

“Yeah..” Tommy confirmed, feigning nonchalance. “I, uh. I used to fly a little.. back in the army, and.. I kind of miss it, I guess.”

“Really?” Bobby asked skeptically, searching Tommy through narrowed eyes as if he was keeping his real reasons in a secret pocket somewhere.

Tommy nodded. Not making eye contact.

“Listen, Tommy. I know me coming here was a big change. And Deluca leaving.. really shook the team up.”

“It’s nothing you did, Captain Nash. I actually agreed with your decision with Sal. I.. I’ve agreed with every decision you’ve made for this house.”

“So you support my leadership, have built a healthy connection with your team, and are.. frankly, thriving here, and.. You still feel the need to uproot yourself?”

Tommy’s jaw tightened. But he nodded. “I guess I always knew I wasn’t going to stay here forever.. And, I feel like you’re gonna find better people to fill out this crew. I mean, I get that you’re not trying to actively recruit them now.. but.. you’ll find them.”

Bobby didn’t know what to say.

“You know that you’re a part of this, right? I see the future of the 118, and I see you in it. I don’t think of you as.. being on the outside in any way, Tommy.”

Bobby watched as a whole fleet of emotions tore through Tommy’s silence.

“I believe you that you think that, Cap. But.. I.. don’t.”

“Oh..” Bobby said, trying not to feel like he’d been punched in the gut. “I am sorry to hear that, Tommy. I didn’t realize..”

“Again, it’s nothing that you did. I appreciate the way that everyone has accepted me as part of this.. ‘New 118’, and believe me.. It’s a hell of a lot better than the old one. I just can’t help feeling like..” Tommy shook his head. “This is a great house, it’s just not my house.”

But it could be! Bobby wanted to say.

But he recognized the look in Tommy’s eyes. He recognized it like looking in a mirror. The feeling that when things were getting too good, you had to get out before it all collapsed on top of you..

He wanted to tell Tommy that it was okay to let things be better. To let people in and allow them to help you to hold up the good things, so that they wouldn’t necessarily tend toward collapse over time.

If he, Chim, and Hen all wanted Tommy on their team - Tommy should trust that, and not just.. remove himself because - for whatever reason - he didn’t feel that he deserved something nice, and warm, and stable, and.. healthy.

But Bobby was not capable of giving that speech.

Not when he himself didn’t believe it.

He knew his time with the 118 was numbered as well. His eyes subconsciously flicker to his little black book.

“I understand why you feel like you need to move on,” Bobby said, even if he didn’t fully understand, he understood enough. “Just know, this is not what we would have chosen. I wish you the best at the 217. It truly is our loss.”

[gulfiya007]

On lukola fandom

Here’s some venting about the lukola fandom, and its ways, and consequences, from an ordinary polin, Bridgerton and Luke fan.

Starting from the way Luke’s loved ones and friends are treated by its adherents. Especially his girlfriend. The hate towards her is visceral. The whole phenomenon of bullying and stalking someone just for existing and posting on their SM account from time to time probably needs to be studied by social studies scholars and parasocial relationship specialists, cause it’s new heights apparently.

So, what if she’s proud of Luke as her boyfriend and wants to show it? What if she wants to mark her territory sometimes, to which she has a right btw? What if she trolls haters and delusional IRL shippers occasionally? Hers is probably the most relatable behavior. I myself, as an introvert millennial who doesn’t run one single SM account and cringe from the exhibitionist nature of current SM posting practices, still recognize that there’s nothing unusual about that kind of posting per se. Why was Luke’s former gf, Jade, allowed to post him all the time (which is totally alright btw), but Antonia hinting at having, say, a dinner with Luke is shady, attention-seeking, desperate, needy and despicable?

It's not that I care particularly about her. In fact, I couldn’t care less if she’s replaced by Luke with some other woman in a couple of months or if she is his future wife and mother to his kids. I still believe, regardless of her status in the relationship, she deserves basic respect and decent treatment as a human being that we know pretty much nothing about. She does not deserve the vilification and demonization that she gets.

Luke too, has a right to privacy and respect for his personal choices that are nobody’s business. He owes no one anything in terms of disclosing his dating life and confirming his relationships. If for someone, Luke bringing the girl to almost all his travels and events with himself, is not a proof or statement in and of itself about her being his girlfriend, then that’s on them. No amount of intentional misreading and skewed takes on photos will trump this simple fact.

Also please don’t bring up virtue signaling and other cancel culture stupidities, such as moral judgements passed on Luke and his close ones for political or other values purportedly held by them, of which we in fact know zilch. It’s clear that this is just another useful tool in a shipping crusade.

Nicola too, deserves, for a change, to have her numerous statements taken seriously. Let alone, privacy. She’s being stalked by her so-called fans to insanity. I am sure she, to put it mildly, is uncomfortable about her “queen” and “goddess” status among the cultists, and being a projection vessel for a myriad of sad women. Cause she knows very well this type of passionate idolatry is an inch away from hate, and the plus sign switches to a minus sign the minute she does something not to their liking, a wrong brand or person supported, or not enough disciplining of Luke is exercised. The most delusional thing about lukolas is them truly believing themselves to be Nic’s or Luke’s fans.

Which brings us to the crux of the matter. That IRL shipping is bad, period. Some lukola bloggers on tumblr, TT and IG half-heartedly try to reign in and admonish the more unhinged segment of the fandom by telling them to behave and not bring their bul..t to the actors' feet. However, this is what the lukola discourse platforms, by simply existing, still do - breed crazy fan behavior. Because the problem lies in the belief system itself. No amount of reservations, house-keeping and discipline by lukola discourse 'leaders' will do away with the tenets and premises of this religion that seep through and twist every discussion and speculation about the figures involved (Luke, Nic, etc). Since every reasoning should work towards a certain end goal, all means and distortions are good to achieve it. Finding faults with Luke's character and behavior and demanding a 'redemption' from him, hating and criticizing Luke's friends and family, attributing motivations to the actors and their loved ones that best suit theories, online stalking etc. A myth about Luke ever publicly stating he was single during promo, a ridiculous myth about Bridgerton cast and showrunners shipping lukola (news flash – nobody in the cast cares about their co-stars’ private lives, stop the kindergarten), or the “papgate” affecting in any way Luke’s job prospects. Myths upon myths that build the house of cards of the lukola dogma. I myself wouldn’t care a damn about this fandom if it really contained itself to its close corners and group chats, however, unsurprisingly, they spill over in a grand fashion and permeate all discourse.

You really believe the innocent delulu fangirling has no by-products? These are the staple manifestations of the lukola and of any IRL shipping fandom, and popular lukola theorists are pretty successful in justifying and reinforcing them. And it should not be surprising that some followers, the most zealous and stupid ones, take it too far and actually harass people and be annoying in SM.

As a Luke and polin fan, I am annoyed by this, but I am 100% sure this sh*t is affecting the actors, and you all can kiss goodbye to the chemistry between Luke and Nic naturally displayed during promo. I am sure polin will not be affected, for L and N are excellent actors and friends, but you all soon will look sadly back to S3 promo tour as magic that will never come back.

[pretty-toru]

Hi! If you're taking requests rn, can I req for a gojo x fem or gn reader scenario where she does the break up prank on him but he surprisingly actually falls for it and the reader then makes up for it (sfw please)

break up prank┆gojo satoru

୧ genre: slight angst to comfort

୧ wc: 1.2k

୧ synopsis: you break up with gojo because he eats too much.

a/n: i don't support these kinds of relationship pranks :( but i tried making this lighthearted as possible so no hearts were broken in the making.

Satoru's enjoying his lunch across from you during break 一 if you can even call it that considering it's a bunch of sweets and snacks in their wrappers sprawled over the table. While he's filling you in on his morning accompanied by his first year students, cheek overstuffed with strawberry whipped cream sando, you sigh when he finishes his sentence.

"Gojo, we need to talk."

There’s a bitter taste on his tongue now, and Satoru looks at you with his brows furrowed when you call him by his family name which sounds foreign to him. You don't normally address him that way unless he seriously messed up, but everything was perfect and you both were getting along great so he's clueless. Maybe if he pretends by looking around for this Gojo to answer you back and nothing comes up the day can continue its usual pace. "Yeah, so, anyway as Megumi was getting hit on–"

You huff when your words fall on deaf ears, and you are a little more stern and a little louder this time. Your arms crossing over your chest because you don't appreciate being ignored. "Gojo, I just said we need to talk."

He wears a sullen pout but keeps his lighthearted tone. "Angel you're killing me here, you know that's not my name. You always call me Baby or Honey or Toru~" He mimics your cute voice and you bite the inside of your cheek from smiling affectionately, and because you don’t sound even close to anything like that. 

"Yeah, well not for long. We have to break up."

What? His face immediately drops and he seizes his antics. He can't believe you could say that so easily, and he doesn't even know if he heard you right. You are his entire world and he thought he was yours too. Just the other day you were telling him how happy he makes you and how lucky you were to have him, so what the hell happened? Where did he go wrong? He completely trusted that you'd never give up on him and you both were even planning for the future, so it's incredibly baffling to him when you say the most unexpected thing.

Break up...

Break up?

What do you mean by that?

"No chance, that's not happening. What makes you say that, hm?" Satoru has a way of bouncing back that tells you even though he feels hurt and betrayed, he won’t succumb to the voice in his head reminding him he doesn’t deserve you. Because he knows he does, and you deserve him too. "This sounds like crazy talk, that's what it is. I can't believe you would even suggest something like this. Am I even allowed to know the reason?"

You straighten yourself in your seat, and gesture over to the purchased goods to your right. "Well, for one thing–! You eat so many sweets!" When your words reach him, he caught onto your practical joke and relief washes over him. He can't take you seriously anymore especially when you make frowning look so adorable as the castella roll cake, his beloved kikufuku, and an entire souffle cheesecake gets chastised under your gaze. "I've never seen anyone eat their body weight in sweets, and I'm afraid the next morning I'll find my boyfriend has turned into liquified sugar or limbs made of mochi!"

Satoru bursts out into laughter from your ridiculous explanation of wanting to end things, the tension in the room dissipates and the heaviness in his heart follows making him feel infinitely lighter. He doesn't argue or deny his sweet tooth, just slowly nods and drags your seat that’s a short distance away towards him. His strawberry sando is forgotten and you are compliant when he gently pulls you onto his lap, wrapping his strong arms around you and pressing a kiss to the pulse point of your neck. You giggle because it tickles, and your arms loop around his nape with your fingers twirling the ends of his hair. 

"Fine, it's true. I've become a sugar fiend. But is that really something to break up over, sweetheart?" He’s slowly returning back to being playful again, but the way he’s holding you a little closer and tighter means he hasn’t fully recovered from the prank. 

"I mean, it's getting out of control. When we go out for ice cream, you won't share yours and keep taking bites out of mine. Huge ones that leave teeth marks too!" You’re teasing him now and all he can do is chuckle. This is the worst prank anyone has pulled on him, and he should be upset with the person that played it… But he just can’t be upset with you, he could never be upset at you. Just because you did something like that doesn’t mean he still doesn't love you.

"I share everything else with you, and I think I'm more than generous when it comes to spoiling my sweet girl~" Satoru leans in once more to plant quick trailing kisses on your neckline down to your collarbone for all the times he’s stolen a taste from you. When he pulls away slightly, his parted lips were already waiting for yours when you meet him for a tender exchange. Softly melding together with a taste of your tongue and your "I love you" is more than just words to him. It’s a feeling he knows is truly and genuinely still there despite you almost breaking his heart.  

"I hope you know I was just joking, right?" Your noses are touching and you speak in the most gentle tone. He was so sure it was some mischievous stunt, but hearing you confirm it gave him some comfort and ease of mind. "We aren’t breaking up just so we’re clear. I’m sorry for putting you through that, but it was nice knowing you’d want to keep me around. Is there something I can do to make it up to you?"

"Heh, you really messed with my feelings just now, you know that?" Satoru looks faintly distressed, but there’s a simper on his face when he glances down and smooth out the wrinkles on your skirt. "I really thought you didn’t want to be with me anymore. How about if you promise to never do it again… I’ll let you get away with it."

"I promise I won’t do it again." He watches as your hand cover his and you signal him to link your pinkies together. Even if there’s no need for timeless rituals anymore you both still like to engage in small gestures with the utmost seriousness to stay true to your word.

Satoru can’t help but release a breathy laugh. He looks at the sweet connection between your little fingers that brings a certain warmth to his heart like sunlight settling on his skin after a windy surge. His smile broadens as he looks back up at you. "Promise you won’t break my heart by ever leaving me?"

You hum contently and smooch his cheek as you recite the promise back to him. "I promise I won’t break your poor heart. Wouldn't even dream of it."

"I'm glad you are not going anywhere. Then I promise you the same thing~" He intertwines your hands together and brings it up to his lips to kiss your knuckles. "I love you so much. Don't forget that Angel."

[deesseshesca]

Message from your spirit guide

Message from your spirit team

 Just a head up …. We love you 

Good afternoon, pretty souls, today I’m channeling your spirit guides. 

Choose the image that’s speak to you and allow yourself to soak ONLY what’s reasoning with YOUR SITUATION 

Rules and Disclaimer 

I am the type of tarot reader to say as it is. Nothing is sugar coated but everything is sent with good intention. If you are not ready to face some truth, you should vagabond somewhere else. 

TW: DV, MENTION OF ABUSE 

PILE 1

You go ahead and purchase that Cartier bracelet that is not going to destroy your hard work. Make sure you wear it at the baby shower. We know how much you pray for your sister  regarding her fertility issue, your niece\nephew is on his/her way. And we are as excited as you. Don’t you dare overthink your body right now. You look amazing. Everyone is telling you so you better believe them. Ok you may not be at your dream weight but babe you must agree that you never looked so good. You better show off ! You told the whole truth and will be rewarded. I know you were scared to say it all because you felt like you messed up somewhere which is ok but that does not mean you deserve it. Yes, you agree to be in a relationship with him. But you did not agree to the mental abuse. You did not agree to the constant yelling, the name calling and disrespect. You did not sign for physical abuse. Whether or not you orgasm or not doesn't matter, if you did not want to do it, then nah. He did IN FACT abuse you. Let’s forget the couple slap here and there and the punches on the wall. People from his family want to drag you but everyone knows you are a good woman and did not deserve anything you were thru. We know it was an extremely stressful moment for you, but now you can sit back and relax. Everyone is congratulating you right now. Even the people on the street can’t wait but to compliment you on your glowing skin and amazing sense of style. But we know that it has been months, even years in the making. You decide to stand up when you had nothing but faith in YOU. The days that you had to stick to your diet. Stop eating your feelings. All the time you had to stick to a budget, so you can have this financial security. The hard work you did in uni so you can get the degree that got you this amazing job. Nothing grew overnight. Success looks so good on you ! The odd thing is you want more . You can see it because of the upgrade in your wallet. You went from fast food, to a five star restaurant.  You went from exam week to working in big cooperatives. But yet you want more. There are days where you feel so happy and extremely grateful for what you have but other times you fall into deep depression because you want more from life. People around you don’t get it. ‘’You went from HELL to HEAVEN’’. Not quite. There’s more for you out here. And your soul knows it and calls for it. So let’s do it. Don't let the doubtful people stop you. The success that you have at the moment, you did on your own. With very little support. So, what if you want more ? Go get it ! Stop waiting for validation when you are the standard. 

You are all about you right now. Focus on the future that you want for yourself. But people around you are calling selfish. I’m hearing ‘’ Why are you acting brand new ? Why are you so Hollywood all of the sudden ?’’. But you know better than to give those comments your attention. 

You may be a lawyer. Or a future one. You may want to start grad school. 

Advice from me : You don’t need a tower moment to know when a season is finished. If you want, go get it. That’s it, that’s all. 

What it is- Doochii

BIG SALE (CAD$)

General: 22 $

Love : 33 $

Mystery: 41 $

Message me to have the whole run down, ONLY 3 SPOTS (ONE OF EACH)

PILE 2

We heard you… We heard you but are you telling them Always talking in front of the mirror what you are going to tell them. To tell them to fuck off. Tell them they got you fucked up. But nah. You know better. They know better. That’s why they are always coming back because you never switch up. They did. They switch is not just in your head. They are abusing you and anybody with critical thinking can see it from a continent way. I know it may not look like it in 3D but you are actually doing it. Ok you may not have the greatest grade. Ok you may not have the richest boyfriend. Ok your business is not making a milli a year . But let me remind you who the fuck you is. Nobody's surprised when you succeed because you always do. That’s why when you fail or struggle you get way more reaction since they wish upon you. But everyone knows that you are way better than them. They laugh because you don’t have the greatest grade. You are literally in one of the hardest programs. They are making fun of you while they did not even make it to uni. They are making fun of your man for not having extremely abundant funds. Not knowing the way he wakes you up with grateful text all the time, gives the best orgasm, even when he is mad, never raises his voice, always opens the doors for you, will not go to sleep without calling you, will literally throw  his whole life away just to see you smile. And he is ACTUALLY studying in a very rewarding and respectful major. Like c’mon. Those girls are out here messing with men for some cash while having a side of beating, cheating and sprinkles of hella disrespect. Literally   begging to be heard. While he's literally blowing your phone when he is with his friend because he can’t have enough of you. Your business went from being an idea to making weekly orders. They don’t even have a business. I don’t even think they have an IDEA to bring to life. Except they mean remarks and mean mug face. Since it kills them to see you win all their life, they prefer to wish for your downfall. Instead of asking for advice, lord know you would have given them some. Really girl, they wish they were you. They will accept to change life with you quicker than then their men can last, if God ask them. Why are killing yourself to impress them ? It hurts to see you go the extra mile for people that would rather see you die than to help you. Out here giving your last cent to that one annoying friend that humiliates you in front of everyone. Out here helping your mom knowing them well that she would never nurture you, even if Jesus ask her ? You don’t have nothing to prove to those people, because you are not on the same level as them. So let’s get it together and move on. They are mad at you because you are actually working towards your dream life. They thought you would stay miserable with them forever, but you know better. So YOU did better. If they mad about it let them. They were not there, when you overthink every move, when you were uncertain, when you could not sleep because of anxiety and  when you would crash on your bed completely exhausted without real result but your dreams to motivate you to keep going. Do us a favor and act like the queen that you are. 

You have a habit of loud outbursts of energy when something excites you. You give me the vibe that look like Jade (aesthetic) but act like Cat from Victorious. 

You have been putting yourself out here. The fact that you are surprise by your success get me. People been waiting for you. I feel like you think you don’t deserve it, but all your customers are more than happy. They never had such a good product. I’m hearing this is the best _$ , I spend in my life’’. In school you said you will have a academic comeback and babe YOU DID ! Plus you have a man that is sweeter than anything. Literally goes to the gym, work, study and lives to love you. (Man does he love you) 

Rules - Doja Cat

BIG SALE (CAD$)

General: 22 $

Love : 33 $

Mystery: 41 $

Message me to have the whole run down ONLY 3 SPOTS (ONE OF EACH)

PILE 3 

We are behind you no matter what. But there's nothing we can do if you don’t act on it. You've been through a hard divorce with a very awful man. Intense narcissistic behavior. He made you believe in all his promises. You don’t have to explain yourself, we saw it coming. We also know that he was a fine con. He was all right at first. Everything a woman could wish for you got it emotionally and materially . People around you saw you guys as the ultimate couple goals. But he was hiding dark intentions. Disrespecting on a daily basis, humiliating a front of his colleague and requesting from you absolute submission and sexual intercourse when he felt like it. When you try to live you fear for your life with good reasons. You are a victim of military men. But you are not a victim of life. He mess you up so much, that your belief system is constant bad self talk. You don’t trust yourself with any decision even regarding that divorce. Knowing damn well he treated you like a piss of shit. How many times did he hold a gun at you ? How many time has he choke you ? How many times has he threatened to kill you, if you ever refuse to listen to him? Good looks and a good d were not good enough and will never be enough to deal with a deranged man.  Now, finally divorce, he is going around calling you cheater when you never did. Not that you never wanted too. Sometime you wanted im to feel as fuck as you did. But were too afraid of the repercussions. You literally have medical proof of STD’s he gave you. But God was he slick with it. Never laying hands on you but destroying everything around you. Never telling what to do or not do. Just warning you of how he would react if you did not act like he wanted. Never telling you he was cheating, just told you he needed space or asking for a threesome. Now here you are, years later. You rebuild your life on your own, brick by brick. Boundaries stronger than ever. You thought you over the self sabotage but damn is it biting you right back in front of that new man. The man of your dream. Is this one the real deal ? Or is it a trap ? You can’t take another heartbreak. But he is everything you need. There is a block coming from you. You know you are the problem. He knows you have a blockage that you are terrified to reveal and swear he will wait for you. Is that not something your ex-husband used to say before it all went south ? How can you actually trust your judgment with this one? Imagine if you are stopping him  from meeting the real one while he falls for the mess you are in. Please set yourself free. You got your divorce, you went to therapy, you develop strong boundaries but yet you are still bound to the past. You made a mistake, like all humans do. You deserve good things to happen to you. You have a way better judgment now than you did back then. Now, you actually know how to recognize a monster. You know damn well it ain’t him. Go for it, you deserve it. If it is too scary, set the pace, I swear he ain’t going anywhere. 

SELF SABOTAGE 

I was never there - Weeknd

BIG SALE (CAD$)

General: 22 $

Love : 33 $

Mystery: 41 $

Message me, to have the whole run down. ONLY 3 SPOT (ONE OF EACH)

PILE 4

There’s a lot of things we don’t understand about you. Your love for rap music and obsession with Nicki Minaj. We don't understand that you love to learn everything and anything. We don’t understand half of the things you chat about regarding chemistry, physics or whatever other science took over your heart. But we LOVE YOU SO MUCH. We support you every step of the way ! We can’t not wait for you to have that damn degree in science that makes you cry on school night but brings a sparkle in your eyes the second a person asks you a question about it. Sometimes we push random people around you to ask about the likelihood of a cell in a decade body or something like that so we can hear you speak for hours. It gives you a glow. You aura shine so bright when you are in the lab. Even your teachers are in awe of your dedication. I know you keep reminiscing about the good old times. When having A’s in your fav subject was as easy as closing your eyes. Now you spend hours just to understand one slide in the professor PowerPoint. It is useless to beat yourself up. You are deepening your understanding about one subject at the moment. It is ok if some parts of it are harder to understand than others. I must warn you it will not be easy. You will spend more time in the library than with your friends. You will spend most of your time in the school year stuck in your room away from your loving family. But don’t hurt yourself with guilt. We are not taking your disappearance as any form of disrespect. We are so supportive of you. We never knew such a beautiful bundle of joy and knowledge would ever be born in our lineage. You know, we are a family of lawyers, business man, psychologist and philosoĥer. Your parents may not get half of that you're saying. Your brother may roll his eyes sometimes when you go on about one specific detail that sparks your interest but they are all amazing by the way your brain works. Let me tell you this, you will succeed. You will get it. We will be waiting at the finish line, with flowers and gifts to celebrate the day you will be walking on the podium. As proud as you, because we know how much work you put into every step of the way. The lonely nights, the hard exam and way too big project . Also stop procrastinating and start developing some discipline. You are not here to succeed in your exam but to prepare for your future career. Is time to build some stamina.Don’t worry, I PROMISE YOU: NOTHING BAD IS COMING YOUR WAY. It may get a little gray here and there but we are protecting you from any evil. You can calm your anxiety and enjoy the journey. I won't let ANYONE get in the way of my favorite prodigy. You may not be realizing it but are living in one of your prayers. 

I LOVE YOUR SPIRIT FAMILY. GOD ! They are amazed by you. Literally anything you do is an event that needs to be accelerated. Since you first breath they were going coco about you.  I had a clear image about your spirit team. I see 3 chair. A lot of wealth around them. One of the chairs is a throne where an older man sits in power. He was the one speaking but everyone else shared that feeling. 

So high - Doja Cat

BIG SALE (CAD$)

General: 22 $

Love : 33 $

Mystery: 41 $

Message me to have the whole run down. ONLY 3 SPOTS (ONE OF EACH)

[bloggingboutburgers]

Hi!! Sorry to bother you but i just want to feel like im not sick and wanted to share my thoughts with someone that wont judge me

But i feel really bad, i really feel like there’s something wrong with me i don’t like sex and every time i had sex before has been bc i was supposed to do it, i forced my self to lose my virginity bc i felt like it was about time and i was too old for keep being a virgin. Also i thought “well, maybe if i do it i’ll start liking it like everybody says” but i didn’t, i didn’t like it but i thought again “oh well, it’s the first time (im a ciswoman)they say it always hurts the first time, maybe the more i do it i’ll start liking eventually” but again, i didn’t, i had sex with different people that i felt attracted to and it ALWAYS HURTED, also every time i had to be with at least a little alcohol in my system, so actually i have never had sex being 100% sober.

Now i’m in a relationship but I don’t even like kisses and it sucks bc i really love my boyfriend, he knows about this but i kinda feel like even if he is very supportive about it and says he still wants to be with me, I think there’s this little part of him that wishes that one day i’ll change and we can have sex.

I feel bad bc is it ok to call him my boyfriend and not just a close friend? Im i even allowed to love? Do i have to force my self to do something I don’t really want to or enjoy to be loved? Am i worthy of being loved?

I'm so sorry. As a thirtysomething that had the privilege to afford never to have sex, and who doesn't plan to change that any time, soon, I can tell you from my own experience that yes, not wanting it is valid, and no one should blame you for it. No one should blame you for forcing yourself to try it (because damn the societal pressure is so real), and for never liking it either. I'm so sorry you've been so invalidated just for wanting to live as you are for so long.

Seems to me that what you have right now is something you've always deserved and it's tragic that you didn't get it any earlier, but it's such a relief you have it now. Of course it's OK to call him your boyfriend. As much as our closed-minded, stuck-in-its-own-way, can't-see-past-its-own-nose society would try to lead you to believe, you don't have to have or want sex with someone to love them, that's not a mandatory condition at all. Of course you're allowed to love and worthy of being loved. And no, you don't have to force yourself to do something you don't want to or enjoy to be loved. That applies not only to sex but to so many other things. You don't have to force yourself to do anything to be worthy of love.

It's idealistic thinking maybe, but I always think communication is incredibly important between two people, so I'd personally recommend (although take for that what you will, you were just sharing feelings here, it's not like you came into this inbox to be told what to do and it's kinda pretentious on my part to write this in the first place) to share those fears with your boyfriend, emphasizing, if you need to, that it's not that you don't trust him or don't love him, it's that with the struggles you've had to go through for so long as an asexual person, it's hard for you not to be scared of such things even if things are going great. Of course I don't know your boyfriend, but if you have the feeling he's supportive, I want to believe that he'll be there to reassure you and keep supporting you.

And heck, if it winds up being a disappointment and he actually did have sexual ulterior motives he can't do without... That's on him, not on you. There's nothing wrong with you not wanting sex. You have every right to enjoy loving someone and being with someone on your own terms. I'm fortunate enough to do so myself, at the moment (granted, in a queer platonic relationship so it's a bit different, but still), so I know first-hand it's possible. And I sincerely wish you the best. You don't deserve to be doubting yourself, your happiness and your right to happiness so much but I can't blame you for that either. Society can really fuck up an asexual's self-esteem. But fuck that noise. You're so valid as you are.

[ianales]

illicit affairs (Cheater!Lo’ak x Omatikayan! Reader)

a/n: hope you guys enjoy this! there might be a part 3? hopefully you guys would like this mini series?

after outing Lo’ak as a cheater, things happened…

disclaimer: maybe hinting towards as Neteyam x reader?? tell me what you guys think!

ps. gif is supposed to be like neteyam’s reaction to lo’ak cheating LOL

sorry for a late post, life has been hectic lately :(

part 1 ——— part 2

“L-Lo’ak is this true?” Tsireya questioned.

“No- no i don’t know what she’s talking about”- He responds, stuttering. He turns to look at his brother, Neteyam, he was pissed.

Neteyam walked over to (name) and gave her a side hug and greeted (name)

“I told you it wasn’t a good idea Lo’ak! you never listen”

“Lo’ak.. its true…?” Tsireya had this look in her eyes, it was difficult to read, like she was heartbroken, but there was more. there was disappointment.

she sat in her tent, fidgeting with the promise bracelets they shared, she looks back in her own memories, come to think of it, his own wrist seemed to miss one, he threw it away, she took the bracelet off her own wrist, throwing it towards the tent’s opening.

her eyes traveled as a blue hand catching the bracelet. Neteyam.. she recognised almost immediately at the arm band he wore

“this is your bracelet, tìyawn…” love

“did you know?” she asked, ignoring the nickname he used, which he gave her when they were teenagers.

“i knew, everyone knew… everyone disapproved.. we have no way of communicating, tìyawn.. i couldn’t tell you if i wanted to…” he says, walking in the tent and sitting next to her.

“i know… i shouldn’t blame you… its all his fault that”-

“skxwang?” he chuckles light heartedly

“yeah… skxwang..” she gives the same energy back, she leans her head on Neteyam’s shoulder, “why would he do this, Teyam? is it me? am i not talented enough? am i not pretty enough?”

“thats nonsense tìyawn.. you’re the best na’vi there is…”

before she got to respond, a gentle voice called out from outside the tent. “hìtxoa…? (excuse me) u-um.. its Tsireya.. i know you probably wouldn’t want me to talk to you but i just wanna talk and”-

she looks up from Neteyam’s shoulder, “n-no um… you can come in… you seemed just as shocked as me..”

Tsireya walks in, a gentle smile on her face, and a basket of fruits “im… im so sorry.. i had no idea he was already mated with another.. he told me there was no one.. and the others failed to inform me…”

She accepts the fruit bowl and smiles painfully at Tsireya, “its…. its okay… i mean it hurts.. but its not your fault… it’s Lo’ak’s really… for being unfaithful.. and for lying to you…”

“Lo’ak told us.. that he.. he already told you about (name)….” Neteyam spoke up.

“N-no there was nothing.. he told me he was the only one he loved and everything..”

(Name) felt more pain, holding Neteyam’s hand for support, which he gladly allowed.

“y-yeah… he tends to say.. that type of stuff.. thanks for the fruits by the way…” she said to Tseriya.

“no problem… i hope theres no bad blood between us..”

“oh god no! no.. you were hurt too.. betrayed…”

“yeah… i.. i hope to talk this out with him… hopefully.. i… i don’t know why im talking about this with you..”

“its alright…. im… i just need some time”

the rest of the day Neteyam was comforting (name) in every way possible, he brought her out to make a new bracelet, a matching one with him, he brought her to go hunting with him, which she doesn’t normally do but cheered him on once he caught something, now they sat by a stream, their feet dipped in the ankle length water.

“you don’t deserve him tìyawn….” he spoke from the silence. “you need someone who will appreciate you.. who will…. be there for you when you need them.. who will support you and love you…someone like…”

“you?” she said sarcastically.

“no.. not me.. i guess..” he chuckled awkwardly. “i mean only if you”-

“you’re like a bother to me Neteyam.. a very supportive brother… thank you..”

“yeah… im glad that you see me.. as a brother.. we should head back now tìyawn..”

she nods taking his hand in hers and head back to camp, little did they know, another navigator stood in the shadows, jealous eyes on them.

@ok-boke @myh3artttt @idcalol @cherrybomb5000 @tealtadpole566 @random-3455 @slayingqueenchal @hgccs-blog @emery-333 @papichulo120627 @littlewinchester1 @optimisticsandwichgladiator @r3d0n33 @neteyams-wh0re @satankilledmyghosts @zorosthreesworldstyls

[wishcamper]

On Nesta and Alcoholism

I’ve seen a couple takes recently saying essentially “Nesta is not an alcoholic bc xyz”. The spirit it’s said in is usually supportive of her and based in countering the way the IC dehumanizes and stigmatizes her, which is great AND there are some common stereotypes about alcoholism that can deter people from seeking treatment or realizing their alcohol use is hurting them. Alcohol is the 4th leading cause of preventable death in the United States, and ~11% of people over 18 qualify for an alcohol use disorder every year.

Creds: am a currently practicing counselor with specialization in addiction treatment

So a few basic points on problematic alcohol use:

Risk exists on a spectrum from no risk to imminent fatality. Most users fall in the middle. We have a very narrow portrait of what alcoholism looks like in popular media, especially in women, and it’s almost always the most severe end of the spectrum.

Use does not have to be 24/7 to be risky. Binge drinking, as defined by 4+ drinks for afab people and 5+ drinks for amab people in one drinking episode, has just as much potential for chemical dependency and damage.

A person does not have to be chemically dependent (“addicted”) or have cravings to have an alcohol use disorder, nor does everyone with an AUD go through withdrawal.

Using alcohol as a tool for emotional regulation, sleep, social anxiety, etc outside of rare occasions qualifies as problematic use. This kind of drinking is, unfortunately, very socially acceptable.

Problem drinking is progressive, and tends to get worse without conscious choice or effort to change

You can have a dysfunctional relationship with alcohol without having an AUD. You can have an AUD while still being a fully functioning person on the outside.

Risky or problematic use is often a symptom of a deeper emotional wound, which should be treated with care and seriousness even if someone doesn’t meet the criteria for an AUD.

They don’t have the DSM in Prythian obviously, but for us mere mortals here are the criteria. A person only needs TWO to qualify for a diagnosis:

As a clinician, I usually look for a few hallmarks.

Alcohol is one of or is the primary strategy a person uses to regulate emotion and stress, or is a common way someone rewards or incentivizes themselves

Alcohol is an important “character” in at least one sphere of someone’s life and they feel the absence when it’s not there, eg. social activities all center around drinking, essential part of dinner/sleep routine etc

The client has feelings of shame or guilt around drinking, choices they make while drinking, or the consequences it’s had in their life. oR they feel a defensiveness about their drinking and distress at the idea of stopping.

Anyway, that’s my PSA. I would diagnose Nesta with an AUD, but I would also diagnose her with PTSD, and also diagnosis is a horribly flawed system that allows people to access their insurance benefits. I guess I just want to say that you don’t have to look like the media version of alcoholism to be concerned about your drinking or to deserve quality treatment. If you’re concerned, help is available.

[colleybri]

Together, on this beach

(Rebelcaptain appreciation week day 1 prompt: Significant Moments)

I would have loved to cook for you, on a beach like this.

Freshly caught fish, perhaps, cooked simply on a fire in a pit in the sand. No salt required as the sea lingers on their skins. Maybe a little pepper if we had some. The scent of the cooking brings you near and you watch as I turn the fish on their skewers, the skin blackening and popping a little with the moisture. I see the need in your eyes as you ask: “Is it ready yet?”. That same hunger in your eyes that first held me in their tight grip made literal here - and I catch a child-like gleam in them now as you bend nearer to look and to allow the sound and smells of my cooking to entice you. “You’re a man of hidden talents, Captain Andor,” you flirt, unashamedly, and I have to shoo you away as the need to just keep looking at you is too strong and I don’t want this meal to be anything other than perfectly cooked. But you keep coming back to where I kneel before the fire, distracting me by embracing me from behind and watching on, your chin resting on my shoulder, until the meal is finally ready. Then I watch you try to guzzle like a child, and you yelp when a bone pricks your mouth. And you also burn your tongue and your fingers too because you are so impatient and impetuous and run headlong into eating as you do into many things. And afterwards you start to lick the juices from your fingers and at the sight of that my own hunger becomes too much. We clean each other’s fingers, then each other’s lips.

We have strong appetites.

I would have loved to dance with you, on a beach like this.

To music of our own imagining, or drifting in from the distance because we are alone, together, as we dance on the shoreline. The water laps around our bare feet. The sun sets and the first stars emerge. The air stays warm, and we dance on. You like to lead, sometimes. I let you guide me, feeling your gentle but insistent support. I am strong and whole again, and your fingers feel good against the muscles of my arms as we dip and sway, and you trust me absolutely now. It ‘goes both ways’ - and so do we. Our movements are graceful, balanced, organic and united. We are like one being, perhaps some strange yet beautiful creature from the sea, come to shore this quiet night to flirt a little with the land. Who needs a ballroom on Coruscant or Chandrila and who needs fine clothes; your combat gear is as beautiful to me as any flowing gown, and far more real. And when we finally tire of dancing I will enjoy unwrapping you like a present I thought I could not possibly ever deserve again.

I would have loved to lie with you, on a beach like this.

Our only blanket, the warm night sky. Our bed, the sand: soft courseness, tactile, getting everywhere. You grumble “This will be shedding every time I shower for weeks,” and we laugh, easily, as if we have known each other for years. Enough phosphorence in the gently lapping waters to allow us to see each other, clearly. The softness of your skin, soothing on my scars. The softness of your eyes, soothing on my soul. Like the tide, we rise and fall - the rhythm of the waves in each movement. Sometimes a gentle sea. Sometimes a storm. Always in motion as one.

And we cry as we make love. Happy or heartbroken or both. I kiss the salt warmth of your tears as your body stiffens with another sweet climax, and your cries on each crashing wave of pleasure pull at my heart all over again and I weep too because all sex like this is built on the knowledge that this time, this most clear and beautiful ‘now’, might be the last. I had always had trouble, before, saying ‘goodbye’. As if never saying goodbye would keep goodbyes at bay, somehow. But now I know our final goodbye gives life meaning, and true beauty has sadness too amidst the pleasure. So we relish the before, and the after too, and each moment in between of the long warm night. The next moment and the next until the moments run out. And soon enough I don’t think, for each of those nows, of everything I’ve lost - but concentrate on what I’ve gained instead: the knowledge that I tried my best. Hope.

You.

I would have loved to sit with you, on a beach like this, and watch a sunrise.

And that, I have. We have.

Your arms are strong and supportive, and you have supported my soul as well as my broken body. In the elevator, you realised you were losing me and I wanted to comfort you, but I could hardly breathe for the agony and it was only the sight of you that kept me from fainting. But I wanted to see you without your own pain on your beautiful face and I could hardly stand it and almost wanted to look away, but I couldn’t and I didn’t. Feeling the life draining away I wanted the light of your face shining on me through the coming darkness. But I didn’t want to give you the pain of seeing my pain and I’m sorry that you did.

So in a way, seeing the blast and our clean, painless and mutual death coming… gives me strength again. I can comfort you, and myself, knowing this. I can rally myself one last time and give you what I know I would have wanted. The same message I needed, and didn’t get, on the beach at Niamos.

I give you the love of your father. My final gift of words.

You take it so gratefully, and gift me in turn with your hand, taking mine, and then the warmth of your embrace. And you hold me and support me again as you have held and supported me throughout this last vital mission, when I realised I could recommit to everything I believe and learn to love again through you and with you - side by side and heart in heart.

The Rebellion came first. We took what was left.

In this life, we couldn’t have more than this. But we have had this. We will always have had it.

So in my mind and in my heart, and in this universe and in much kinder ones… we will eat, dance, make love… and die in each other’s arms. It is what’s left. It’s ours, forever.

Together, on this beach, we have what might have been.

[legolasbadass]

Italian Holiday, Part III

Summary: A few weeks before Richard leaves for Boston, he and Lorelei go on holiday in Italy to make the most of the summer and the time they have left together.

This story takes between the penultimate and last chapter of Office Hours and contains major spoilers for that story, so make sure you read it first!

Relationship: Richard Armitage x OC (Professor AU)

Word Count: 1.3K

Rating: T

I am sitting on the balcony, wearing shorts and one of Richard’s t-shirts, my knees tucked under my chin, when he finally returns to me. His hair is still wet and unruly from the shower, and his white shirt clings in places to his damp skin, but none of that is as enticing to me as it usually would be. Right now, I can only watch his face, which is still clouded in frustration and hurt. 

“I’m sorry,” I say hesitantly, my voice barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry I snapped at you like that. I didn’t mean to.” 

Richard remains silent, his eyes fixed on some dehydrated potted plant in the corner of the balcony. 

“I’ve just been so stressed lately. You know what the pressure is like, especially when you’re just starting out. And you’re right—I do need a break. I desperately need a break. But when I allow myself one, I just start to feel like I’m at risk of falling behind and missing out on opportunities, and I can’t afford that. I mean, even when I’m giving my research my full attention, it doesn’t always turn out the way I want it, like with this paper…” 

“What paper?” he asks, and I look up, almost surprised to hear his voice after his unbearable silence. 

“I submitted a paper for this edited collection on maps in contemporary fantasy, but it got rejected. I just got the email about it today.” 

Understanding dawns on Richard, and his eyes soften as he takes a seat next to me. “I didn’t even know you’d submitted a piece for that.” 

“Well… at first, I didn’t tell you because you were so busy preparing for Boston. We were both so busy. And then I started to feel more anxious about it as time went on but… I don’t know… you already had so much on your plate—I didn’t want to bring this up when it’s so minuscule compared to you working with Stanley Griffin.” 

“Sweetheart… you have to tell me these things. I want you to tell me—no matter how busy I might be.”

“I know—I’m sorry,” I sigh, running a hand through my messy hair. “Honestly, I feel so stupid for not telling you after making such a big deal out of us needing to share everything with each other.” 

He reaches out to gently squeeze my thigh. “I just want to be there for you, like you’ve been there for me,” he says softly. “I would hate to think you’re not sharing things with me because you think I’m too busy.” 

“You’ve never made me feel like that, Richard, I mean it. You’re always so supportive,” I hasten to reassure him, and his shoulders slump in evident relief. “This was all in my head and—and I’m sorry. I promise I’ll talk more. Because I really don’t like it when we fight, and you don’t deserve me snapping at you like that.” 

He offers me a soft, crooked smile. “I don’t like it when we fight, either.” 

I smile back at him hesitantly, the tightness in my chest slowly dissipating. Then he lets go of my thigh and, leaning back into his chair, opens his arms in invitation. 

“Come here.” 

My smile widens as I eagerly take refuge in his awaiting arms. Once I am comfortably settled on his lap, he wraps his arms around me and presses a series of tender kisses into my hair as I rest my head on his chest, comforted by the steady beating of his heart and the smell of rosemary and sandalwood from the soap he is so fond of. We remain in this embrace for a long while, basking in the sun’s rays. In the streets below, the city is alive with tourists and locals enjoying the warm summer evening, the gentle hum of their voices and laughter rising up to us, blending with the distant sound of music. But up here, it is just the two of us, sitting in comfortable silence, wrapped around each other. As it should be. 

“Do you want me to just keep holding you or can I offer my opinion on the situation?” Richard eventually asks. 

I pull away from him just enough to meet his eyes. “Your opinion?” I respond, raising a hand to brush one rebellious strand of hair away from his forehead. 

“I really do think you deserve a break. I know how stressful those first few years after you get your PhD are, especially when you’re trying to secure a permanent post at a university. But overworking yourself will just hurt you more in the end. And, sweetheart, you’ve accomplished so much in the past year alone. You started working at Exeter, your first monograph was published, and you organized an incredibly successful conference, at which you also presented an amazing paper. I didn’t even do half that the year after I got my PhD, and I turned out alright, didn’t I?” 

I chuckle, feeling so grateful to have him by my side, yet still unable to completely shake off the knot in my chest. 

Sensing my discomfort, Richard presses a tender kiss onto my temple. “What’s really worrying you?” 

I take a deep breath as I snuggle deeper into his embrace. “I just… sometimes I worry—what if I don’t get offered a permanent post at Exeter? What will happen with us then?” 

“Oh, sweetheart…” he breathes out, squeezing me tight. “Firstly, I think, if somehow, the college were to not offer you a permanent post, they would be making a terrible mistake, and it would make me question if it was really the right place for me,” he says playfully, causing me to chuckle. “Secondly, I think, if it came to that—which I really doubt it will—then we will just figure it out. We’ll make it work just like we’ll make this year apart work.” 

“Really?” 

He offers me a tender smile. “Really. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m quite mad about you, so trust me, I’ll do everything to ensure I get to kiss you, hug you, and make you smile and laugh every day.”

I smile, his tender, honest words, combined with the love shining in his eyes, making my heart swell tenfold. “I love you.”

“I love you more,” he responds before kissing me softly.

“No, I love you more,” I whisper against his lips, giggling. 

 “I fear this could go on for quite some time,” Richard chuckles as he pulls back, gazing lovingly into my eyes. “How about we just have dinner here tonight?”

“I’d like that.” 

“I could go to the shop and get some ingredients while you take a shower.” 

“You take such good care of me,” I say as I press a lingering kiss onto his bearded cheek, feeling so much happier than I was earlier. 

After exchanging a few more kisses, I stand up, glancing at the pastel-coloured houses on the other side of the street as I stretch, but before I can open the French doors leading inside, Richard rests a hand on my back, urging me to turn around. 

“I don’t remember packing that t-shirt,” he says with a frown, clearly amused.

I bite my lower lip. “Oh, er, I brought it, actually. In my own suitcase.” 

“Oh?” 

“Well, you see, I knew I would end up borrowing a t-shirt from you to sleep in, but I wasn’t sure if you would think to account for that when calculating how many t-shirts to bring, and I also didn’t want you to use up your limited luggage space with clothes I would be wearing so…” 

Richard laughs before leaning in to capture my lips in a deep, languid kiss, and all I can do is wrap my arms around him, the sparks he ignites in me letting me forget about the strain in my neck from tilting my head up so much. 

“Have I mentioned how much I love you?” he muses after we pull apart eons later, breathless, our cheeks warm and our lips slightly swollen as we stand under the golden evening sun. 

Tag list: @lathalea @linasofia @fizzyxcustard @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @i-did-not-mean-to @xxbyimm @middleearthpixie @swoopswishsward @quiall321 @dianakc @sazzlep @albionscastle @evenstaredits @mistresskayla-blog1

If you want to be added to or removed from my tag list, let me know! 💙

[heliza24]

I'm kind of confused about how you feel about Lydia, I didn't think there was anything negative about the portrayal. You say she was just there for a lore dump but the way I see it, she was talking about her own life, an adventure she'd been on before. I didn't see it as dismissing her as a character

The short answer is that there isn’t anything hugely wrong with that scene. But because it’s the only real scene we’ve gotten with her so far, and because she is the most developed physically disabled character in all of D20, it is not enough.

To expand on that: Sure, she was telling the Bad Kids about her life and her previous adventures. But let’s think about why she was doing that in that moment. She was there because the Bad Kids needed to know more about her embedded crystal/metaphorical chronic illness in order to solve their own personal mysteries. She is a (very) supporting character in their narrative. We don’t get to see her go on a character arc, or change, or learn more about her desires as a character. Her disability story, which is very interesting, is in the show only because it serves the story needs of the nondisabled PCs.

Now of course all stories need supporting characters/npcs, and I am happy some of them are disabled. The problem arises when there has never been a physically disabled PC in Dimension 20. So the only disability narrative we see is in service of nondisabled characters. The problem is not Lydia; the problem is that she is alone.

You might recognize this problem with other media and other marginalized groups. To use a kind of simple example, I spent a lot of my childhood frustrated that the only women seemingly allowed in fantasy or action movies were the romantic interests of male protagonists. These love interests existed to serve the story of their male counterpart (often by dying dramatically and sending the male protagonist on some kind of revenge quest). There are still plenty of movies and shows that follow these tropes, but it bothers me way less now in 2024 because we also have a ton of tv and movies with complex female protagonists. The abundance of representation is what has changed.

I think this problem is extra clear on Dimension 20 because they have gotten SO many chances to center a disabled narrative and have not. They get up to six protagonists every season, which is way more than most tv or movies get.

Compared to a lot of other pieces of media that try to add in disabled characters, Dimension 20 is doing a good job with Lydia. They haven’t hired a nondisabled actor to play her (super common in tv and movies unfortunately) and they’ve clearly worked with consultants on her. I really like, for instance, that her persistence with the crystal prevents her being magically cured, which is one of my least favorite tropes. However, there is a huge trend in Hollywood of hiring disabled consultants when they want to tell a disabled story but never actually hiring a disabled writer for a full time, credited writing gig in a writers room. The players on D20 are the writing room. Why has a disabled person never been invited there?

Imagine, for a second, that we got a Fantasy High prequel season. All the adults we know in Fantasy High are teens, and they’re PCs. Imagine a really talented performer, who uses a wheelchair, playing Lydia. Imagine the emotional scenes we would see! Imagine the insight into her psyche we would get, the way her relationship to the Crystal would be developed. That’s what the scene with Lydia in Junior Year made me long for.

(I do have some frustration about the way Kristen reacted to Lydia, and the way that fandom reacted to Kristen. I did find Kristen offering empathy to Lydia in the form of the help action sweet, but being nice to a disabled person doesn’t deserve outsized praise, because we are not objects of pity. I also think the way that Kristen touched Lydia’s neck without permission is reminiscent of the way many wheelchair users are touched and pushed without permission, which is very violating. I don’t think Kristen would have had that same reaction to Sandra Lynn, for instance. Kristen is really Going Through It right now, so I’m not particularly mad at her for doing that. But it is irritating to see fandom singing the praises of the help action without acknowledging the touching without consent that followed).

Thank you for the question! I appreciate the opportunity to have a dialogue about this.

[many-but-one]

I didn’t want to derail your post, @the-alarm-system because I felt that your post is important and should stand on its own, but I also wanted to address that you screenshotted my tags here:

I want to explain what I meant by my tags, as I feel like you may have misunderstood what I was saying. l am supportive of endos existing. I've made that clear on more than one occasion on my blog! I meant I don’t like the phrase “the future is plural” because of the ambiguity of it and the fact that it’s been so misconstrued by so many. I feel like a better phrase that is less likely to be misunderstood would benefit the plural community but I’m not sure what that could be.

From the lens of endogenic plurality flourishing + plurality acceptance and education, I don't mind the phrase "the future is plural." I know plenty of endo systems and they are fine people who deserve to exist how they like! The only reason I don’t like that phrase is the ambiguity and how misunderstood it tends to be, and like I said, I think a phrase that is still concise but less likely to be misunderstood would be useful. I just, again, don’t know what that would be. I truthfully think it tends to be misunderstood because traumagenic systems are applying it to their own experiences (it’s what I did and why I was not liking the phrase at first, not realizing it was referring to endo plurals) and so of course we wouldn’t want the future to be plural because that means kids are being traumatized. However, from an endogenic system’s perspective and them applying it to their own experience with plurality, I can definitely see why they coined the phrase and mean it in the “I want more systems to exist” because a majority of endogenic plurals don’t see their systems as having come from trauma, which means endo plurality increasing =/= children being traumatized in order to exist as plural.

As an aside, I needed to update my “lean toward anti endos” verbiage anyway. I wrote that like…a year ago, maybe more, when I was still on the fence about the whole thing. At this point I’m pretty sure most anti endos aren’t a fan of my stance and so wouldn’t want me associating with them anyway. I say syscourse neutral because I don’t take sides in syscourse and typically don’t engage with it as much as possible for my own sake. Syscourse feels like a toxic minefield more often than not and I don’t like participating. I’m chronically terrible at updating my socials, so than a recent deletion of all of our alter info on our pinned post + an updated DNI, I don’t think we’ve updated that top portion in ages. So, thanks for pointing that out so I can change that as I didn’t realize that was still there.

Normally l'd ignore your reblog/tag screenshot but I just want it to be clear where I stand on the subject and don't want people who don't follow me to see my tags and see me as an endo-unsafe person. I am syscourse neutral in that I don't take sides, but I support endos existing. I used to be firmly anti-endo but l've changed my stance and am trying to be a better and less hateful person. I’ve said some hateful things about endos in the past and I want it to be made aware that I’m not the same person I was a few years ago (literally and figuratively, lol, I was very bitter, angry, and hateful toward MY OWN existence as a system, but with a lot of healing and acceptance of MYSELF I have also realized I needed to be more accepting of others too, even if I don’t fully understand them) so I wanted to nip your assumption in the bud and take a moment to explain my stance a bit more so my endo followers know I’m not against their existence. /gen /nm /just trying to explain myself more than tags would allow LOL

[thrashkink-coven]

peace! I so enjoy your blog and I'm learning a lot. thank you for that post about mental health and spirituality it helps so much. I lean into prayer when I feel helpless, because at least god/ my deities will listen even when humans can't or won't. sometimes I wish though I could converse with them like an actual conversation. sometimes I can feel my spirits listening to my prayers of thanks or asking for help. other times I'm not sure. my mind is constantly running, readers have a tough time describing/feeling what my mind is like. I'm constantly fighting self criticism and doubt and allowing my faith to ease my worries. my practice doesn't always look consistent but it's consistent in the sense I haven't stopped trying to honor my deities and ancestors. I want to grow my gifts and understand my divine messages better. do you have any guidance or tips on how to ask for divine support with rumination and self esteem? either who to ask or how to ask?

also I saw you refer to Lucifer as your dom... in some ways is it a romantic relationship for you? I learned recently that Krishna accepts all kinds of devotees including as lovers, the idea of honoring spirit with love and desire absolutely fascinates me. to my heart and body it feels right, my mind wonders if it is "allowed". if that's not what you meant would you please describe your relationship a bit more? apologies if it's clear in your posts, the search function does not work for me on mobile.

thanks for your time 🙏

My biggest piece of advice to you would be to remember that everyone starts somewhere. All pagans need to learn how to become confident in their practice, and the stumbles that you take along the way will only make you a better devotee. I challenge you do enjoy this period of self discovery and unsureness. Continue to speak with your deities and allow them to guide you into your worship. Whoever feels the closest to you is who you should be consulting. Sometimes this spirit doesn’t have a name yet, sometimes it’s your own inner voice. Don’t think too hard about what you’re supposed to be doing, and think a lot more about what you want to do. Try something that you’ve never done before, whether this be writing out prayers, making songs, making art, cooking a feast etc.

To answer your other question, I wouldn’t say that Lucifer and I have an overtly sexual/ romantic relationship. We have a magical God/ devotee relationship first before everything else. The main purpose of our relationship is spiritual development and radical education. While our relationship is very romanticized (literally beautified and idealized, roses, chocolates, love notes) it isn’t inherently romantic as one would consider a husband or wife, Lucifer is not my boyfriend or husband. Our connection goes very beyond sex and romance even if those things are often included in our interactions. That’s why a lot of our dialogue can sound kind of strange lmao. I don’t want Lucifer to fuck me, I want him to consume my entire soul until it is a beacon of light. I don’t want to touch him, I want to fully become and embody him in everything I do.

I am constantly offering Lucifer love and admiration as my patron and dom, and I do occasionally offer him my pleasure as a gift as one would offer a piece of art. But when we have these exchanges, it’s not really the same as directly having sex with each other. When we do sex magic and rituals it’s usually for the purpose of self rejuvenation or to show each other appreciation. A lot of the time he’s showing me how precious I am to him, reminding me that I deserve pleasure and that I should seek it often. To love and honour Lucifer is also to love and honour myself.

But Lucifer is not a human. Being touched by his light is like being purified by fire. When he embraces me, I feel like I’m laying on a cloud of bright nourishing energy that empowers me and my craft. When he kisses me, I feel like my aura is being cleansed. It’s so much more than just an erotic or romantic feeling, it truly is divine.

The intimate and sensual parts of our practice act more as a form of communication. Being an autist myself, I am very concerned with sensation. The physical feelings he gives me during our interactions better help me recognize his energy. The excitement amplifies that energy towards a goal. Sometimes that goal is just letting him know how much I love and appreciate his presence in my life. Sometimes it’s far more practical, like getting a new job.

Lucifer is relaxed and very free love, he made it clear to me that he wasn’t overly concerned with labels unless I felt them necessary. I can’t say that other deities will have the same attitude, but I have observed many other devotees of other Gods that have a similar dynamic. I don’t intend to ever be married to Lucifer in any kind of god spousal nun way, I feel my title as a devotee is already as binding and significant as a kind of marriage. It took quite a lot of time for us to get to this point, lots of folks are devoted to deities for years before they establish a relationship outside of their work. It’s definitely allowed as long as all parties involved are happy with it.