#pd-nos

[tallymarksystem]

"you can't have all of these disorders at the same time you have to be lying" if I could have less I would!!!

[peaceeandcoolestvibes]

Hay gente (responsables) de los dep de odontologia en algunas unis que tambn nos han contestado

[y0nain]

felices fiestas, nain!

este año me ha hecho mucho gusto poder conocerte, y a luna también. a mi me gustan estas fechas, porque las personas parecen más felices. espero que tú seas feliz en estos días.

han sido más presentes para luna que para ti, me reservo conseguirnos algo cuando salgamos de compras juntas.

feliz navidad!

cn cariño,

- eunseo

[reiding-writing]

hiyaa, cold reader series is so so amazing i just read it all in one sitting again but i was wondering if you could do one where she's jealous of a woman who starts flirting with spencer on a case maybe? maybe she's pissed because it's "unprofessional" but really she's pissed because he's being flirted with

AS IT SEEMS — SPENCER REID!

a local detective seems to hang on spencer’s every word. the unprofessionalism of it all really frustrates you.

spencer x cold!reader | 3.3k | flangst | cold!reader masterlist.

main masterlist.

a/n — is this… progression?

The flashing red-and-blue lights of the local PD’s vehicles paint shifting patterns across the asphalt as the BAU team steps onto the scene.

The air is thick with the scent of damp pavement and something acrid—gunpowder, maybe, or the lingering remnants of a nearby dumpster fire.

Officers mill about with that particular brand of tension that comes from knowing the FBI has been called in, half-relieved, half-defensive.

You take it all in quickly, the details slotting into place in your mind like a well-practiced routine. The weight of your badge clipped to your belt, the holster pressing against your hip—everything is familiar, grounding. But then she appears.

Detective Elena Foster is sharp-jawed and self-assured, the kind of woman who wears authority like a second skin. Her strides are long, purposeful, the confidence in her posture making it abundantly clear that she knows exactly how competent she is.

And she’s looking at Spencer like he’s fascinating.

You stand slightly off to the side as introductions are exchanged, arms crossed over your chest, expression unreadable. You’re practiced at this—at keeping your face neutral, your tone cool, your presence sharp enough to command respect without ever needing to raise your voice.

It’s always been easy. But right now, as Foster’s hand lingers just a little too long in Spencer’s when she shakes it, something tightens in your chest.

“Dr. Reid,” she says, eyes flicking over him with open appreciation. “I read your paper on statistical anomalies in serial offender data last year—brilliant work,”

Spencer, to his credit, looks momentarily startled. “Oh—thank you,” he says, blinking. “That was actually an extension of some previous research on—”

“That’s impressive,” she interrupts, flashing him a smile. “I’d love to pick your brain about it later, if you’ve got time,”

You watch as her fingers graze his forearm in a way that is entirely unnecessary.

He doesn’t seem to notice, too preoccupied with processing the compliment, his mind already spinning with whatever information he had been about to share. You, on the other hand, notice everything. The deliberate lean-in, the way her voice dips just slightly when she speaks to him, the way her eyes linger.

It’s unprofessional.

That’s what irritates you. Not the fact that her attention is singularly fixed on him, or that he’s being flirted with in the middle of a crime scene. Certainly not that she’s touching him when she doesn’t need to be.

It’s the principle of the matter. This is an active investigation, and Foster should be focused on the case, not Spencer’s academic credentials and whatever else has caught her interest.

Your jaw tightens as you glance toward Hotch, who doesn’t seem to care about the interaction as long as it doesn’t interfere with the briefing. Morgan, beside you, exhales a quiet chuckle under his breath, like he’s picked up on something amusing. You ignore it.

“I assume we have a body to look at?” you say, voice even.

Foster blinks at you, as if only just remembering your presence. You don’t react, don’t shift under her assessing gaze, don’t give her anything to work with. Eventually, she nods.

“Of course,” she says smoothly. “Right this way,”

She turns, and Spencer follows, already mid-sentence about some statistical deviation he had noticed in the case file. And you?

You stay exactly where you are for half a second longer than necessary, exhaling slowly through your nose before following after them.

—

You follow the team through the cordoned-off area, past uniformed officers and the murmuring press lingering at the edges, searching for scraps of information. The crime scene is up ahead—an abandoned warehouse, dimly lit and rank with the scent of stagnant water and decay. It should have your full attention.

But instead, you feel your focus splintering.

Just behind you, Spencer is still speaking, his voice carrying that familiar, eager cadence he gets when discussing something intellectually stimulating. “It’s interesting—well, not interesting in the traditional sense, given the context, but rather statistically significant—that the unsub’s victim selection aligns with a pattern previously seen in—”

“Oh, I love that you talk like that,” Foster’s voice is warm, teasing, admiring. “Most people dumb things down, but you don’t. That’s rare,”

You stiffen.

It’s unprofessional.

That’s what you tell yourself as you watch the way she tilts her head slightly when he speaks, as if absorbing every syllable. As if he’s the most fascinating thing in the room. She leans in a fraction closer—just enough to make it noticeable, just enough to make your stomach twist.

It’s unprofessional, you think again, but the words don’t sit quite right in your mind anymore.

Because the truth is, you shouldn’t care. You shouldn’t be noticing the way Foster looks at him. You shouldn’t be hyper-aware of the way her fingers brush the edge of his sleeve again, so light it could almost be accidental. You shouldn’t be waiting for him to pull back, to shake off the attention like he does when social interaction becomes too much.

Except he doesn’t. He just lets it happen.

And that irritates you.

So you do what you always do when something threatens to knock you off balance—you shut it down.

“Reid.”

Your voice cuts through the air, sharper than you intended. The team stops, turning toward you. Even Foster straightens slightly, blinking at the sudden shift in tone. Spencer glances over, his expression a mixture of mild confusion and concern.

You exhale, tightening your grip on the case file in your hands. “We’re here to solve a murder,” you say, your voice even but firm. “Not to make friends.”

Foster’s eyebrows lift slightly, but she doesn’t comment. Morgan, who had been watching the interaction unfold with barely concealed amusement, makes a low sound in his throat—something close to a chuckle. You ignore it.

“I wasn’t aware discussing case patterns was off-limits,” Spencer says, tilting his head. His tone is neutral, but there’s a hint of something else there.

You meet his gaze, keeping your own unreadable. “It’s not,” you say. “Just keep it relevant.”

It’s not a lie. You are focused on the case. You do want to keep things professional. That’s all this is. That’s the only reason your patience is stretched thin.

Except.

Except you can still feel the ghost of Foster’s laugh curling around Spencer’s words. Except your shoulders haven’t relaxed since the moment she touched him. Except your own thoughts are turning against you, pressing in like a vice, asking the question you really don’t want to answer—

If you’re so unaffected, why do you have to convince yourself of it?

—

The investigation continues with the same steady pace, but your attention keeps wandering.

Every time you glance toward Spencer and Foster, you find her leaning in a little too close, her voice a little too sweet as she asks him to clarify some trivial detail. She’s careful—always careful—never quite crossing a line, but the way she speaks to him, the way she looks at him, it grates at you.

The word “unprofessional” loops endlessly in your mind, but each time you tell yourself that, something inside you pushes back.

You’re not jealous. You just want her to focus. This is a case, for God’s sake.

But the more she smiles at him, the more he just stands there, absorbed in the conversation, oblivious to the subtle dance she’s performing, the more that uncomfortable twist in your stomach tightens. Every laugh, every overly familiar gesture, stirs something inside you that you can’t quite name.

You can feel your teeth grinding as they talk, your gaze hardening on the two of them. You’re trying to focus on the case, you’re trying to ignore the nagging irritation building in your chest, but the more they interact, the more annoyed you become.

She’s practically flirting, and Spencer isn’t doing anything about it. Or, if he is noticing, he’s pretending it doesn’t bother him.

But it bothers you. Why does it bother you?

Your fingers tighten around the edge of the evidence bag in your hand, and before you know it, you’re standing too close to them, watching as Foster tries to steer Spencer away from the group to discuss something you know is irrelevant to the case.

It’s not urgent. You know it’s not urgent. But when you hear the soft cadence of her voice inviting Spencer to join her for a “quick chat” away from the others, the words explode out of you.

“Reid.” you say sharply, the sound of his name a snap. The words feel harsh even to your own ears.

Spencer’s head jerks around, blinking at you in surprise. His lips part, but you cut him off again, your voice colder than you intended. “Come on, we’re leaving.”

Foster stops mid-sentence, blinking in confusion at the sudden interruption. Her eyes flick to Spencer, and then back to you. The tension in the air thickens, but you don’t care.

You don’t care.

Except you do. And that makes it worse.

Spencer’s gaze softens as he turns back to you, the furrow in his brow deepening, something akin to concern flashing across his face. It only makes you more frustrated.

“I’m not finished yet,” Spencer protests quietly, but there’s a careful note in his voice, the kind that suggests he’s trying to be diplomatic, to avoid upsetting you.

You blink, realising you’ve taken another step too far. Your heart skips a beat at the softness in his voice, and for just a moment, you feel guilty. He’s just trying to help, trying to be professional. And yet, the only thing you can focus on is her.

You don’t let the guilt linger long. “Then stop getting distracted.” you snap, then force yourself to look away, eyes darting back to the scene as if it somehow holds your attention now. You’re already backing off, leaving the words hanging in the air.

Spencer stares at you for a beat longer than necessary, confusion and concern still flickering in his eyes, but he doesn’t press it. He doesn’t argue, doesn’t question you further. Instead, he shifts back toward the group, muttering something to Morgan about a pattern in the evidence, and you hear the subtle shift in his voice—he’s letting it go.

But you don’t feel relieved.

The knot in your chest tightens again. Why did you say that? Why did you let her get to you?

You tell yourself it’s about professionalism. It’s about the case. You don’t have time for distractions, not when the clock is ticking. And you definitely don’t have time to unravel this feeling that’s spreading through you like an infection.

Spencer doesn’t argue. He doesn’t snap back at you, doesn’t give you the defensive posture that you might expect from anyone else. Instead, he does something that immediately pulls the rug out from under you.

He looks at you.

Really looks at you.

For a moment, the world around you blurs, the noise of the crime scene and the murmurs of the team fading into the background. It’s just Spencer’s eyes, filled with something you can’t quite place—concern, maybe, or confusion, maybe a little of both. But it’s soft. Too soft.

Your pulse spikes, and for a split second, it feels like the floor is tipping beneath you. It’s so disarming, the quiet concern in his gaze, and it makes the frustration building inside you flare even higher.

“Are you okay?”

The question is simple, unassuming, and it cracks something inside you. It’s not a challenge, not a reprimand—it’s genuine, and that’s what makes it harder to brush off.

No. You’re not okay.

You’re furious, but you can’t explain why. You’re hurt, but you can’t pinpoint the cause. You’re jealous, and the idea of admitting that to yourself is enough to send your thoughts spiraling. And all the while, Spencer’s standing there, oblivious to the storm building inside you, just waiting for your response.

You can’t look at him anymore.

“I’m fine,” you mutter quickly, not meeting his eyes. You swallow, forcing your chest to loosen, fighting the sudden weight that presses down on your shoulders.

Your words come out stiff, rehearsed, and even to your own ears, they sound like a lie. But you say them anyway. Because it’s easier than admitting the truth.

You don’t wait for him to say anything else. You turn abruptly, your boots echoing on the concrete floor as you walk away, away from Spencer and away from the nagging feeling that he might see through you if you stay.

But you’re not running. You’re not hiding. You’re just… focused.

At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

As you round the corner, your mind keeps racing, fighting to keep everything in order. You tell yourself you don’t care about the detective’s attention.

You tell yourself it’s unprofessional, it’s inappropriate. And you tell yourself that you’ve seen it all before, that Spencer’s just being Spencer—oblivious to the subtle ways people gravitate toward him.

But none of that feels convincing anymore.

By the time you’ve reached the far side of the warehouse, your hands are trembling slightly. You push them into your pockets, trying to centre yourself. You feel the familiar coldness wrapping around you again, your professional mask sliding back into place like armour. It’s easier this way.

A sharp breath escapes your lips as you lean against the wall, your head pressed back, eyes closed for a moment. Focus.

You force yourself to take another breath. You’re here for the case. That’s all.

But as the minutes pass, the tight knot in your chest refuses to loosen, and all you can think about is the way Spencer’s face looked when he asked you that question. Are you okay?

And, just for a fleeting second, you wonder if he knows more than you think.

—

The rest of the case proceeds, but something has shifted.

There’s an undeniable tension now—both around you and within you. As you walk through the newest crime scene, examining evidence and speaking with witnesses, Spencer doesn’t give you the space you’d expected.

He stays close, hovering just behind you, always near enough that you can feel the warmth of his presence even when you’re too busy to glance at him.

He’s speaking to you more than usual, asking for your input first, even in situations where it’s clear he already has the answers. It’s as if he’s checking in with you constantly, gauging your reaction before making any decisions of his own.

The subtle shift doesn’t go unnoticed by anyone. Foster, who had been so eager to claim his attention earlier, is starting to back off, visibly frustrated by his sudden disinterest in her suggestions. She tries a few more times to pull him away for a “quick chat,” but Spencer doesn’t respond to her advances the way he did before.

Instead, he looks to you.

“Hey, I think we might need a second look at the victim’s phone records,” he says, voice casual but with an edge of expectation, like he already knows you’ll agree. “What do you think?”

You pause, the request startling you slightly. Spencer doesn’t usually ask for your opinion on the more technical aspects of a case, but you don’t have time to process it. The words come automatically.

“Yeah, definitely. It might give us a window into the unsub’s next move.”

Spencer nods in approval, his face softening slightly as he absorbs your response. But there’s something else there, something unspoken—a quiet acknowledgment.

He doesn’t say anything, just continues to stay close as the investigation progresses, as if he’s subtly keeping his distance from Foster without even addressing it.

You’re still frustrated—at him, at the detective, at yourself—but there’s a tiny, almost imperceptible shift in your chest. That small part of you that feels like you’ve been seen. That he noticed.

Every time Foster attempts to direct him away from the group, Spencer brushes her off with a polite but clear, “I’ll be right with you,” his eyes flicking to you before he moves to stand closer. You don’t say anything. You’re not sure you even want to acknowledge it. But it’s there—an undercurrent you can’t ignore.

Your mind still races with frustration. You can’t shake the gnawing feeling that something’s off, and you can’t decide if it’s the case, the detective, or yourself. But every time Spencer looks to you for direction, every time he positions himself just a little too close, your frustration starts to dull, replaced by something else.

He’s noticing you. He’s listening.

When the team breaks for a quick huddle to discuss their next steps, Spencer stands beside you. Not next to Morgan or Hotch, not pulling away to talk to Foster. He’s deliberately close, his shoulder just grazing yours as he flips through his notes.

“You alright?” he asks again, in that soft, concerned tone that makes you almost uncomfortable. It’s like he’s waiting for you to admit something, like he already knows there’s something you’re not saying.

You want to brush him off, to tell him to stop worrying about you, but the question catches you off guard. For a brief moment, the irritation—toward him, toward Foster, toward everything—subsides, and you're left with something unspoken hanging between you two.

"I’m fine," you mutter again, a little more convincingly this time, even though it’s not true. But you can’t find the words to explain it. Not when you’re still trying to convince yourself that none of this should matter.

Spencer doesn’t push. He just nods, the faintest flicker of a smile tugging at his lips before he pulls away to engage with the team, but he keeps an eye on you, always just a little more attentive than usual.

You try to shake off the feeling that this—whatever this is—matters, but it’s hard to deny. The connection between you two is there, unspoken, and for some unknown reason you’re feeling a lot more vulnerable than usual.

And that, more than anything, is what frustrates you the most.

[timmyholland]

You speak spanish with Carlos & Checo | Oscar Piastri.

Summary: Oscar is your boyfriend and he doesn't understand Spanish, but you loved talking to Carlos Sainz and Sergio Pérez at any time. While Lando Norris likes to bother.

✦; ᯽ೃ✧ · ˚ · ˚ ✧

liked by lewishamilton, carlossainz55 and 101,055 others.

ynusername: me encanta el blanco, la manera que combina con todo y lo hace ver más precioso que nunca🤍. "I love white, the way it goes with everything and makes it look more beautiful than ever."

pd: Oscar me encanta vestido de blanco o no 🤣. "I love Oscar dressed in white or not".

11,873 comments

carlossainz55: muy lindo es el blanco, estoy de acuerdo que nos hace ver como ángeles. "White is very pretty, I agree that it makes us look like angels."

schecoperez: tu eres todo menos un ángel. "You are anything but not an angel"

ynusername: jujujs golpe bajo @/carlossainz55. "Uhh, jujujs that was low."

carlossainz55: te apoyo y así me pagas? riéndote de mi?. "I support you and this is how you pay me?"

ynusername: perdón carliiiii es que fue muy gracioso. "Sorry, Carlii. Was funny" ynusername: pero tenés razón, nos vemos como ángeles 👼🏻 @/carlossainz55 "But you're right, we look like angels"

landonorris: i don't understand a f word

oscarpiastri: because you're a fool, mate @/landonorris

landonorris: you don't understand dude, stop pretend that you do.

carlossainz55: yesss, i'm agree with u @/oscarpiastri.

landonorris: f off @/carlossainz55. Traitor @/oscarpiastri.

landonorris: If they force you to wear white clothes, nod @/oscarpiastri

ynusername: it's not funny nowins.

username9: they’re the cutest couple in f1 I fear

user94: my parents omg!!

chales_leclerc: holaaaa mi amiga. "Hellooo, my friend"

ynusername: hola amigooo. "Hello, friend"

olliebearman: holu (❤ liked by ynusername)

schecoperez: donde está el Charls, está Ollie falta que aparezca Leo. "Where Charls is, Ollie is there, Leo needs to appear."

carlossainz55: y su otro hijo adoptado, Oscar. @/schecoperez. "And his other adopted son, Oscar."

✦; ᯽ೃ✧ · ˚ · ˚ ✧

liked by mickschumacher, mclaren, danielricciado and 897,892 others.

oscarpiastri: she's my angel wearing white 🤍

PD: she loves white clothes and i love her.

28,628 comments

ynusername: i love u 🤍 (❤ liked by oscarpiastri)

user43: Oscar, can you fight?

landonorris: yeap, i lost my friend

danielricciado: man let them be happy

landonorris: I DONT WANNA LOSE MORE FRIENDS

ynusername: how you lost Carlos??? @/landonorris

landonorris: ouch, you're being mean @/ynusername

ynusername: and you're dramatic @/landonorris

caslossainz55: nadie me ama 😪 "Nobody loves me"

schecoperez: nosotros sí @/carlossainz55

landonorris: here we go again with the Spanish

charles_leclerc: te amo @/carlossainz55 "I love you"

ynusername: te amamos mucho, muchito, muchote!! @/carlossainz55 "We love you so much"

oscarpiastri: Why does the translator tell me that you love Carlos a lot?

carlossainz55: cause she does. @/oscarpiastri

username8: God, when is my turn??

wearepapayalovers: whyyy r you soo cutieee 😍

racerbia: my girlfriend 😍😍

ynusername: alwayss bb

oscarpiastri: what th are you talking about? She is MY gf @/racerbia

ynusername: tranquilo hombre, soy tuya "Easy man, i'm yours"

oscarpiastri: mia. "Mine"

carlossainz55: apuesto a que es la única palabra que sabe decir en español @/schecoperez "I bet it's the only word he knows how to say in Spanish"

schecoperez: estas en lo cierto @/carlossainz55 "You right"

landoscar: forget him I want her.

[radiomogai]

[Divider ID: Three light purple stars, with double light purple lines on either side. /End ID]

[Flag ID: Two versions of a five stripe flag, the first with a cream rounded symbol outlined in pinkish orange, and the second without. The symbol is a question mark with a star instead of a dot. The colors are dark grey, dark desaturated blue, pinkish orange, light orange, and cream.]

[Divider ID: Two light purple lines. /End ID]

[Banner ID: A banner reading in all caps: '@ illusionfrilled (AKA Doctor /Doc Dr. Null/Dr. Chasm)

he/it/ask

BYF: Sys co/host, autism, ADHD, BPD, NPD, low empathy, low motivation, syscopunk-

No DNI, anyone can use my posts/terms/flags as long as you're respectful & don't harass me if you're problematic or disagree with my beliefs'

Left of the text is a purple tinted drawing of the character 'Dr. Flug', floating and waving at the viewer. He is surrounded by light purple stars.]

[Divider ID: Three light purple stars, with double light purple lines on either side. /End ID]

IDs by @accessibilitea

Unspecified Personality Disorder / Personality disorder not otherwise specified (UPD / PD-NOS) flag

I wasn't really sure what to do for this but I made an attempt </3

Requested by : anon

Tagging : @radiomogai @mad-pride

Inbox : 01 (responses slow, requests open)

[curruchu]

Una pregunta compañera, porque rowlet es tu Pokémon favorito? Tengo curiosidad.

(en serio amo tu arte lptm)

También me gusta bastante decidueye :")

El por qué... me recuerdan a mi mascota que nos dejó hace un par de meses. Si bien era una cotorra (squawkabilly le representa mejor) y no un búho, cuando anunciaron los iniciales de alola y vi a rowlet quise un ave de mascota, de allí adoptamos a ese pequeño.

Para inmortalizarlo, los dibujos de rowlet están inspirados en él 💚 aquí dejo unas imágenes de él, fue la mejor compañía que he tenido estos últimos años.

Pd gracias por el cumplido crj :")❤️

[andruudibuja]

@capibuck, gracias por tu amistad ;;

Aquí te dejo con mucho amor un dibujito de la ship que nos unió y nos dio la oportunidad de formar una amistad tan bonita <3

Pd: Hace años que no los dibujo, perdón que quedaran FeOS.

[sinfonia-relativa]

¿Quieres formar parte de nuestra familia?

¡Esta es tu oportunidad! Envíanos un escrito de tu autoría y las razones por las que quieres ser parte del blog, por medio de colaboración a nuestra bandeja (Convocatoria|).

Los únicos requisitos son: contar con whatsapp, buena ortografía, disponibilidad de tiempo y ¡Muchísimas ganas de escribir!

La convocatoria estará abierta desde hoy sábado 21 de octubre y cierra sábado 11 de noviembre. Al día siguiente nos comunicaremos con los seleccionados.

Por favor a los seleccionados les solicitamos tener habilitada la opción de recibir mensajes para todos, así nos podremos comunicar con cada uno :3

[CERRADA]

Cualquier duda al respecto mandanos un ask

PD: Si tienes muchos de deseos de formar parte de nosotros, envía tu solicitud, ya que esta será la última convocatoria que tendremos este año 2023. ¡Animate! ¡Qué la suerte esté de tu lado!

[lemecdlucas]

          🌾 ❛❛💀🎩🗡️👑Lastet arrugó la frente por la reacción de Louise, miró hacia sus espaldas como si esperara ver a alguien más que ella pero, solo estaban las dos ¿Por qué la miraba como si estuviera aterrada y no creyera que fuera ella? —Salut, Louise—Tocó su hombro con su índice—Por supuesto que soy yo, mon cheri—Evidenció con una sonrisa que se apago cuando Louise retorcedió. Entonces pronto entendió lo que ocurría y la sonrisa se convirtió en molestia y decepción en su rostro. —Bien joué, Louise!— Aplaudió con recelo, como si hubiera arruinado el momento. —Entonces en verdad quieres que esté muerta, bien mon amour, te diré un secreto que tal vez tú y Claude puedan aplicar la siguiente ocasión; Quemar el cuerpo.—Señaló con una sonrisa agría. Entonces sí seguía siendo de la misma forma, Louise la odiaba. —Te traje esto—Le tendió un disco y una ramo de flores. El disco no era necesario pero, aún le costaba un poco el celular y la computadora, así que su abogado le había sugerido eso para entregarle las canciones que había compuesto para Louise, que ahora parecía que no había tenido sentido hacerlas. —Tíralo, quémalo, dáselo a Amara. Que estés bien, Louise—dijo con desdén y decepción, se sintió ofendida porque conocía a Louise pero, si la persona que amabas muriera y regresara no sería esa la forma en que la recibirías. Al menos no lo habría hecho ella...al menos que pensara que la iba a matar...bueno, sí lo pensó pero, no se atrevería, pensó en otorgarle eso como compensación a todo el daño que le ocasionó. Ya que más daba.

🍂💓. La vida de Louise había cambiado de manera consistente, pero hacía mucho que Lastet no era un recuerdo capaz de caminar. Se decía, al menos, que la había dejado ir desde que inicio su relación con Amara. Ella le había ayudado a continuar. Sin embargo, ¿por qué ese día Lastet acudió a sus pensamientos de manera frecuente? Mordió su inferior y se ciñó a alimentarse. Sabia que la sangre de animales no le nutría de la misma manera. Sin embargo, no se sentía débil. Aún así, Louise se mentiría a si misma para no poner atención a lo que le pasaba. Tras la publicación de su libro, esperó a que cientos de vampiros llegarán a ella. Si Amara tenía razón, pronto llegarían para asesinarla. ¿Se dejaría morir? Quizá, no lo sabía, los propósitos en su vida eran escasos, pese a sobrevivir a diario. Mas, aquel día, una vez más, la sintió. A Lastet. Cerró los ojos y esperó a esfumarla, hasta que apareció frente a sus ojos. De no haberla tocado, habría pensado que era otro producto de su mente. Sin embargo, resultaba extraño verla tan adaptada a la época. —¿E-eres tú, realmente? —Cuestionó, dando un paso atrás—. ¿Cómo es posible? Y-yo te asesiné —y sí, sabía que lo había hecho. Una culpa que la perseguiría para siempre. Y se lo merecía.

[outlanderrepublic]

FALTA NADA Y LA #QUEENB LO SABE!!!!! EN 6 DIAS NOS ESTAMOS REENCONTRANDO!!! Y aunque los periodistas insisten en preguntar sobre la #Season8 y el finalfinal de nuestra amada serie, la queen le baja unos decibeles a la ansiedat que manejamos todos y nos consuela con que todavia quedan 18 horas de universo #Outlander.

Pd: Se le nota la tristesita de terminar este viaje, no?

#CalmaPideLaQueenB

#ConLaQueenHastaElFin

#Caiturday

#Season7BYaTeSiento

#RememosLaSequiaQueFaltaNada

#CaitrionaBalfe

#Outlander

#OutlanderFansMal

#OutlanderPasion

#OutlanderasInsaciables

#PoneleOutlanderATodo

[plurality-galaxy]

here's some positivity for systems with personality disorders!

systems with cluster a disorders, you are lovely and worthy of respect regardless of what people think about your "strange" behaviors! you will find a place to fit in and people who will care about you. you're not inherently weird because normal doesn't exist.

systems with cluster b disorders, you are amazing and worthy of kindness regardless of the demonization you face daily! you deserve and will find love, care, and attention just the same as everyone else does. your disorder does not make you an evil person or an abuser by default.

systems with cluster c disorders, you are brilliant and you deserve to feel safe in a world that is often quite terrifying to exist in. you make the world better just by being in it and no matter what anyone or your mind tells you, there is comfort and safety out there to be found.

systems with PD-NOS, OSPD, and UPD, you deserve the same positivity, community, and resources that other PD diagnoses receive! you belong to the discussion and do not deserve being left out. whatever traits you exhibit, you are still valid and you are still worthy and you still belong!!

[lizveroworlds-blog]

A veces solo estamos a una lectura

de cometer inconfesables travesuras,

cuando libre se nos expresa la piel

a llevarnos más allá de los sentidos,

sumergidos en el extasis

desmesurado

que nos infunde un deseo que aguarda

por ser convertido en placer.

Pd. A tan poco de habitar esos rincones prohibidos de tu mente.

Angel Liz.

Corazón de Ángel.

[rope-tati]

Señora ud es diabólica

In Every Lifetime

REWRITE, RESTART !

《 previous | masterlist | there is no answer 》

a/n: hehe. AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA i'm so excited final three updates and i might double update tmrw idk maybe !!! also the new event for enstars is coming tomorrow and i am GETTING THAT NAGISA CARD BC THAT MF IS BEING GATEKEPT FROM ME BY IBARA SO I GOTTA DO SHIT MYSELF AROUND HERE ahem sorry anyways here it is >:3

taglist: @taruruchi @idiaia @starchilll @h0n3ysgh0st @yumixxn @kalims @sakuram1nt @proximitybobomb @shiemori @fluffimemes @meigalaxy @kaechannn @ravenkake @unlikelyinternetprincess @magical-mace @lifeless-bug @atl4ntxc @pyrrhicgaze @chay2 @everettelz @voreaux @yelshin @kahunap @tingerines @teamoymas @pastellepastary @mochimiyaas @i-have-a-lot-of-ocs @sxftiebee @eccedentesiast-sapphic @kenma-izhu @twisted-jamil @bre99 @sherryuki-callmeyuki @yuchanyuna @faeryarchives @musclefanatica @stormyovent0aster @fangirl-d-blog @iameliseposts @minkyungseokie @skintights0cks @somany-fandoms-solittle-time @sugarrush-blush @kalims-pessimist-bestie @stupidwingboy @simp-incoming @kurenix @alex-the-bee

REMINDER: taglist is open! you will be tagged on the reblog however bc tumblr gave me a mf limit BYE but if i cannot, I'll try and tag you on the comments !!

[alfabetalibre]

A medida que paso el tiempo, me fui dando cuenta de que en mi vida me canse de dar oportunidades a las personas equivocadas.

Un patrón en el que me puso el universo, en donde el mismo ciclo se repetia una y otra vez como una especie de castigo.

A veces era muchas veces con la misma persona, otras veces era otra cara pero la misma cantidad de veces en la misma historia de siempre con el mismo final.

Me canse de permitir que me lastimen y asumir que fue un accidente, de dar oportunidades a personas que jamas me la pidieron y que no tienen interes alguno en mi

A medida que paso el tiempo, cai en la cuenta de que mis acciones hacian que el sufrimiento fuera doble. No solo me lastimaron ellos, también me lastime yo. Me falle, tuve mas miedo de perderlos que de perderme a mi, y ahí perdí todo

Eso no los libra de culpas, todos somos culpables.

Siempre me molesto la frase, “las personas no nos hacen cosas, las personas hacen cosas”. No me jodas, totalmente, las personas hacen cosas, pero solo pensando en ellos y eso dice mucho

En el fondo de mi mente, mi inocencia, o mi idiotez, toda la vida me llevaron a pensar que las personas que alguna vez nos amaron, marcaron o fueron parte de nuestra vida en profundidad; que vivieron nuestros desastres y compartieron risas a carcajadas, guardaron nuestros secretos y acompañaron nuestras caídas mas bajas, siempre guardarían un lugarcito en su corazón para nosotros, por quienes fuimos.

Mi exceso de melancolía me llevo a creer que debía darles todo de mi, por quienes fuimos, por lo vivido, por ese lugarcito en el corazón que yo si tengo y porque si alguna vez fuimos todo, entonces como podríamos ser extraños?

Pero no, damos lo que somos pero claramente no somos lo que damos

Dicen que el universo cuando nos aleja de algo nos esta “salvando” y si lo pienso asi, en todo este tiempo no hice mas que buscar mi destrucción, me equivoque de miedo. No debía tenerle miedo a la soledad, debía tenerle miedo una vida llena de personas que no saben querer y mucho mas importante, de ser una de esas personas y no quererme a mi.

Pd: buen momento para abrir los ojos si lo buscaban🌖

-Angel

[soyelmorse]

Capitulo 5 parte 2: Lo tuve que dividir porque Tumblr no me deja poner mas de 3000 palabras, asi que tendré que conservar los capitulos de 2000 palabras.

PD: la foto no me pertenece, créditos: @/iamespecter

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Continuando con lo que sucedió en el capítulo anterior

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Ragatha:

Gracias por acompañarme Pomni, realmente no podía contener la emoción de buscar a mas gente

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*Pomni y Ragatha habían salido del circo, habían visto a los bubble irse hace varias horas y ahora rondaban por el bosque buscando a mas gente*

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Pomni:

Está bien supongo, y que planes tienes?

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Ragatha:

Pues lo principal es hacerles preguntas, para ver si saben cómo llegaron aquí, si tienen recuerdo de antes de todo esto y cosas así

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Pomni:

No suena mal, sin embargo interrogarlos apenas los ves

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Ragatha: bueno, tienes razón, ya pensaré en algo mejor jeje, lo mejor será buscar alguna pista

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*Ragatha y Pomni empezaron a revisar todo, después de un buen rato, finalmente le dieron toda la vuelta al circo y escucharon una explosión*

*Alarmas, corrieron a dónde la habían escuchado y vieron a Gangle bajo una red tratando de liberarse y varios árboles destruidos*

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Ragatha:

Gangle!? Estás bien? Que sucedió aquí?

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Gangle:

Nada jeje...

Es solo que estaban creando una nueva arena en el cuarto de edición y Jax me pidió que la probará con el, pero las cosas se salieron de control

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*Después de eso Pomni y Ragatha la liberaron*

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Gangle:

Gracias, pensé que me quedaría allí por siempre

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Pomni:

Cuánto tiempo llevas allí?

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Gangle:

El suficiente

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Ragatha:

Cielos, este lugar si que es un desastre

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*Mientras hablaban, vieron como las luces se empezaban a apagar y a encender indicando el reinicio del proceso*

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Ragatha:

Será mejor regresar a dentro, no queremos que las herramientas de este lugar nos hagan daño

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*Pomni, Gangle y Ragatha volvieron a dentro del circo*

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Caíne:

Oh! Así que allí estaban, que fue lo que sucedió?, escuché un fuerte sonido y cuandl revise ese lugar estaba destruido

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Ragatha:

No nos mires a nosotras, ni siquiera estábamos cerca cuando se escuchó la explosión

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Gangle:

Fue Jax, quería que le ayudara a probar la nueva arena

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Caíne:

Ha? Ya veo, aún así la siguiente actividad se demora mucho mas entonces, les apetece algún juego de mesa?

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Ragatha:

Claro porque no, ustedes que dicen?

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Pomni:

Por mi está bien

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Gangle:

Creo que sí

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Caíne:

Bien! El juego elegido será ludo, lo conocen?

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Pomni:

Ha, yo si

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Ragatha:

Yo también

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Gangle:

Yo no

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Caíne:

No te preocupes, déjame enseñarte

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*Caíne y las chicas fueron al centró, una vez allí Jax estaba acostado en un sofá relajante y estaba comiendo helado, al escuchar a los demás creo con unas cenizas unos audífonos para bloquear el ruido y siguió con lo suyo*

*Al cabo de un rato recordó lo que pasó en la habitación del estadio y de los disparos, se levantó y fue a este lugar para ver si había rastro de otra persona*

*Al llegar no encontro a nadie sin embargo noto que a lo lejos Zooble lo estaba vigilando y no tardo en asumir que fue culpa suya, empezó a caminar hacia su dirección pero el reloj gigante que marcaba el tiempo de descanso sonó*

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Caíne:

Santo cielos solo miren la hora que es, bien chicas, hora de dormir, seguiremos con el juego para mas tarde

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Gangle:

En serio? Y justo me faltaba un tíro para colocar 1

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*Caíne ayudo a Gangle y salió justamente el número que ella buscaba*

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Caíne:

felicidades, ahora vayan a sus dormitorios, se que no es necesario dormir pero es importante no sobre cargarse, créanme no es buena idea averiguar el porque

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Gangle:

supongo que está bien

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Ragatha:

Bien andando

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*Las 3 se retiraron a su habitación, Zooble y Jax escucharon a Caíne y Jax me hizo una señal a Zooble con los dedos de que la estaba vigilando, después de eso el regreso a su habitación junto con Caíne y Kinger y zooble se quedó afuera*

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Gangle:

que raro, Zooble siempre está primero aquí

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Ragatha:

Se habrá perdido? Deberíamos ir a buscarla

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Pomni:

No debería haber problema, igual siempre Caíne nos encuentra

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Gangle:

En cualquier caso yo la buscaré no se preocupen

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Ragatha:

De acuerdo, ten cuidado

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*Después de eso, Gangle se retiró y Ragatha y Pomni se fueron a sus respectivos espacios*

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Ragatha:

Oye Pomni, no te gustaría hacer una pijamada?

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Pomni:

Pijamada? No estamos muy grande para eso

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Ragatha:

Pues si y se supone que no debamos hacer muchas cosas cuando toca la hora de descansar pero es algo aburrido pasar el tiempo a solas

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Pomni:

Bueno, supongo que no estaría mal está vez?

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Ragatha:

En serio? Gracias eres un amor

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*Ragatha la abrazo y le dió un beso*

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Ragatha:

Hay perdón me emocioné demás, bien, iré a cambiarme

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Pomni:

Lo mismo...

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*Después de ello, ambas se cambiaron y Pomni fue al espacio de Ragatha para "dormír" aunque en realidad hablaron todo el tiempo en voz baja*

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Horas después

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Gummigoo:

A dónde nos llevan?

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Bubble:

No te preocupes, lo sabrás muy pronto

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*Mientras decían eso, gummigoo y todos los demás observaron la entrada del circo*