#take this whole thing with a grain of salt please

[queenofapeacefuldawn]

Spy × Family Chapter 108: An Analysis

So, after a two month wait, we finally got a new chapter! And we were SO well fed LMAO!!!

Anyway, as always, spoilers for Spy × Family Chapter 108 under the cut!

We start off the chapter with Melinda nervously explaining to Yor her reason for being "Lunaluna Selena" in disguise: it's a fun hobby!

And, obviously, she's in disguise out of worry about the rumours that might spread if the former First Lady of Ostania dabbles in mysticism: as it might cause problems with her husband. (Though it is messed up that she has to hide her hobbies from her own husband, but we know how Donovan is).

In the middle of Melinda's monologue about why she loves this sort of thing, she drops a rather odd line:

(First of all: DANDADAN reference anyone?) Kidding, kidding, it was probably just a throw-off line, but what we're really focusing on is: Melinda's emphases on the word "Telepathy".

Now, side note, I'm not sure if the emphasis was to draw our, the readers' attentions to the fact that Melinda believes in the concept of telepathy existing, or if Melinda herself is putting emphasis on the word "telepathy", implying she knows something about the project that Anya was made for.

It is a fascinating thing to put in, though: if one's talking about the things they believe in, then putting "telepathy" in the top three seems like an odd choice, especially if more general terms like "superpowers" or whatever exist.

It does seem very intentional on Endo-sensei's part to put in, especially since, as of now, we don't know how much Melinda knows about Donovan's current plans, or even about what he's done before.

It could be a reference to Anya's past, or some sort of red herring so the reveal of Anya's past can be more shocking. I'm not sure. Yet, I choose to believe that Melinda knows something about Anya's past--- something maybe she found out on accident? Which is why she's so terrified of Donovan?

In essence, this chapter basically confirms that Melinda is suffering some sort of psychological abuse at the hands of Donovan, leading to her fear of him. What's more interesting is that Donovan is intentionally trying to drive a rift between Melinda and the boys. Possibly he's trying to isolate her by keeping them under his thumb, so that she doesn't try to "betray" him? Or maybe he's already threatened the lives of the boys in return for Melinda staying, all for the sake of keeping the "happy family man" image up to the public (though we know how messed up the family really is).

These panels. They confirm that Melinda has thoughts about standing up for herself and Damian (and Demetrius too, I guess--- I think it's implied), but the sheer terror of what Donovan might do holds her back. Half a step forward, a whole leap back. She even says, "Fortune telling [a hobby that she loves dearly] doesn't matter either. What am I doing here?"

So. yeah.

[NOTE: I skipped over the tarot reading part initially so that I could talk about Donovan and his abuse, and connect it to the first bit of the chapter. The tarot reading part comes now.

NOTE 2: All the information about the tarot cards comes from Google. I have no knowledge about tarot, so please take this with a grain of salt, and if I make any mistakes, please don't hesitate in correcting me :)]

These are the cards we see initially.

She says the card representing Anya's present is the Four of Cups. According to Google, it means:

The Four of Cups tend to appear when you are feeling discouraged and unmotivated. You may feel as if there is no solution or way forward in your situation. Life has become stagnant, and nothing seems to make you happy or passionate.

(Labyrinthos, Tarot Cards Meanings List)

Which is kind of true in reference to Anya's life as a student. A student's life is filled with studying (God knows I know it), something Anya is apathetic towards. It's also "Plan A" of Operation Strix: through studying, Anya becomes an Imperial Scholar and Twilight makes contact with Donovan Desmond.

Or, it could be an allusion to Melinda's situation: she's discouraged, and feels trapped in her marriage. Nothing makes her passionate anymore, because everything she experiences is tainted by her husband (see: the panel above where she says 'even fortune-telling doesn't matter).

Melinda says that the Death card represents the factors around Anya. There's the obvious joke about "Oh the Grim Reaper's right next to you!" with Yor next to Anya, but the Death card shouldn't be taken literally.

The Death card signals that one major phase in your life is ending, and a new one is going to start. You just need to close one door, so the new one will open. The past needs to be placed behind you, so you can focus your energy on what is ahead of you.

(Labyrinthos, Tarot Cards Meanings List)

This is a reference to Anya's previous life as a test subject, and orphan; and how she's left that past behind and been allowed to actually be a child, and how she's finally being loved as she deserves. How her circumstances, the factors around her are changing. It could also pertain to her physical growth, or maybe it was just there for the joke about Yor being the Grim Reaper (which is still pretty ominous. Who is Yor going to have to kill?)

And, finally, the Star in reverse.

When the Star card is reversed, it means that you are feeling as though everything has turned against you. The challenges that you would normally see as exciting seem instead to make you feel as though you cannot overcome them. You have lost faith in something, whether inside yourself or with something you normally find dear.  Without hope, without faith, we cannot find the motivation to progress forward in the challenges that we face. Where in your life are you feeling hopeless? In what ways do you already feel defeated? And how does that affect your actions? The star reversed asks us to nurture our sense of hope and positive energy to help propel our actions with joy instead of fear.

(Labyrinthos, Tarot Cards Meanings List)

Since this represents Anya's future... it doesn't look to good. It feels intentionally grey and murky, with no clear answer as to what's going to happen in Anya's future, but it still seems pretty bleak.

Overall, these readings don't seem to point to a future that seems too good for Anya.

I am very afraid what's going to happen to her (and to find out what's going to happen to her), but I guess we'll just have to wait and see.

We still don't know what exactly Anya means by "This feeling... I think I've felt it before...", especially when it's related to Melinda's fear of returning home and to Donovan. Again, it makes me very nervous for her backstory.

Anya and Yor return to where the rest of the gang is, and---

why is he like this.

After Twilight spends the whole day socializing with the other parents, "pumping them for information", Emile talks about how nice it must be to have a nice mom, which leads to this interaction:

This has a striking similarity to the chapter where Anya confesses about her mind-reading powers to Damian: the reassurance back then that Damian loves his dad, and now, the reassurance that Melinda loves him. Parallels about who he loves and idolizes, and now who loves him.

And, it's also so heartwarming that she specifically takes off her mask: showing her, perhaps, most true self to him, especially due to the fact that she comes from a family of actors, constantly putting on masks.

Speaking of masks... we can see a bit of [REDACTED] bleed through the mask of Loid, and Twilight.

It's the same, pensive expression that we see him wear in Episode 35 (Chapter 56), except it's more... tired. More weary. Less affectionate.

(The panel from Chapter 56)

We see a man imagining What Could Have Been, if the trajectory of his life hadn't changed so drastically: especially at a festival much like the one he's currently at.

We see a man tired of war.

We also see it in Episode 3 (Chapter 3)

This is when he's seeing young boys playing, and thinking of himself and his own friends.

Anya doesn't read his mind, but she does read his expression-

And so, the family man mask comes on, but not quite as properly as he'd like.

We can still see [REDACTED] shine through.

It's the same smile he gives Yor and Anya when Nightfall comes over, the smile with, which Fiona notes, "a tiny hint of real emotion seeping out from beneath it".

We jump to some time later, with Director Gorey asking Loid if he's willing to take on a VIP patient who presents a "challenging" case, which is followed by the inevitable reveal that the patient is Melinda.

I think this implies that Melinda has tried seeing psychiatrists before, but none of them worked out for her, or none of them could figure out what was wrong with her (hence the "challenging").

It's also revealed that Yor suggested Melinda sees Loid, which is greatly boosting his mission.

Gorey says that he suspects she's suffering from an intense case of Persecution Complex, so I searched that up.

People with a persecution complex suffer from the feeling that other people are trying to harm them.

(Cambridge Dictionary)

Given Gorey's diagnosis, I'm wondering if he's implying that Melinda is untrustworthy (which also implies that Melinda might have spoken of her fear of her husband--- perhaps in a roundabout way, which also led to her being classified as "challenging".) Though, for this, we'll need to wait and see next chapter.

FINAL THOUGHTS: I really loved this chapter! It definitely was worth the two month wait (and, I hope Endo-sensei is better, I think he took the break because of poor health). I'm excited for the next chapter! Tell me what your thoughts are!

[percedurza]

this came to me in a dream (i got no sleep last night)

[mari13606]

Lets go in order lf what occurs through the year.

New years, I think that should stay, its fine as is.

Valentines day, I think needs to focus on more than romantic relationships, or at least be decommercialized.

Easter, Spring festival, celebrating the end of winter, the planting of flowers, and the current progress of any resolutions or goals you set for the year.

April fools, stays, just make sure your prank isn't dangerous or harmful please.

4th of July, Summer festival, celebrates the beginning of summer, the freedom of youth, half way point on resolutions or goals set, celebration of current progress/sucess.

9/11, Mourning for *everyone* lost in a war, particularly the innocent and unnamed.

Halloween, stay the same, could be a bit less commercialized and focused more on appeasing spirits and celebrating life.

Thanksgiving, celebration of family-however you define that, a day to be with those closest to you. A celebration including everyones favorite dishes, celebrating the experiences you share as well as your personal progress throughout the year.

Christmas, Winter festival, celebrating the end of the year and the completion of your resolutions and goals.

Daily/weekly community: Gardens, libraries, parks, villas, home (if host volunteers the space). Places where you can gather freely to learn, teach, create, and pursue any goals/resolutions with the aid of others.

You gotta create replacement activities man. We can't just phase out all the church attendance and all the usamerican social holidays cold turkey in the middle of a loneliness epidemic bro like yeah fuck church fuck thanksgiving and FUCK the 4th of July but like what's the long-term plan. People need holidays and repetitive social rituals or they go crazy. Like are we inventing new ones or ....?

[screamting]

implementing lore in RPs without telling skull. Anyway, there were actually lots of those meteors that hit Vandal Savage (50k bce) flying around in prehistory. A couple hit closer to modern day greece and made a whole bunch of people in this one tribe immortal. For a while they kept making immortal babies in relative pre-history peace, until one day, (~10k bce?) massive infighting broke out: whether this was because the men wanted women weakened through trickery or whether women rose up and escaped will depend on who you're asking/what continuity you're reading, but the immortal and semi-immortal women fled to an island in the mediterranean, where they used their magic cultivated from thousands of years of continuous knowledge, and raised a barrier separating themselves and the rest of the world, and forbid any man ever set foot on it. They called this island Paradise, or Themiscyra.

[grislyintentions]

|| HC- Diviner's Fate ||

In reference to the Glimpses into the Beyond manuscript penned by Fuxuan herself, she spares little effort in reminding/warning other diviners that any actions that imply attempts to predict Yaoshi's fate will be treated as an unforgivable felony.

Despite the considerable leniency that is offered to those who attempt to predict the fates of other Aeons (still illegal), the Ten-Lords Commission equates acts of trying to predict Yaoshi's as a crime equal to the Ten Unpardonable Sins. Diviners found guilty of said transgression will be punished strictly- provided they are still alive after committing said crime as those who have tried have all met tragic fates of their own.

Given these factors, there are two possible outcomes that befall Diviners who attempt to predict Yaoshi's fate:

Mental Collapse (Subsequent development of Acute Megalophobia)

Divination is by no means true omniscience. It is a practise of making calculations based on recorded instances of data and the Diviner's ability to map out multiple possibilities based on the movements, logic as well as thought processes from it.

As witnessed in March's story quest, the Matrix of Prescience is used by diviners to draw information from the past to predict the future by literally placing the observing person in said variable scenarios to derive accurate outcomes, albeit heightened by Fuxuan's third eye.

The Matrix actively draws the future it observes from Chaos.

So how does one even begin to calculate and predict the fate of Aeons who fill the skies like celestial bodies? A being that is incomparably huge, move according to their own Path with a transcendent mind? How does one even define chaos of such magnitude?

Both devices as well as the living mind has their limits. To withstand, hold and interpret something of this magnitude is realistically impossible to accomplish without breaking something in the process either by fragmenting of memory or mental collapse in efforts to preserve one's well being ie: amnesia, memory repressing etc.

In such a scenario, it is likely that diviners may experience a similar phenomenon. Their added ability to literally "visualise" observations may also cause the Matrix of Prescience to backfire and create a massive toll mentally. And they could thus develop an accute fear of vastness when bombarded with everything at once (fear of outer space, bodies of water, atmosphere so on so forth). TLDR: A living hellscape they cannot avoid. Resuming divination duties would be impossible with the emotional association, PTSD and trauma. ON TOP of having to be punished for committing what is essentially a crime.

Victim of Parasitism (Eventual Brain Death)

To essentially divine an Aeon's fate is to quite literally observe and visualise oneself walking down their path. While it might seem achievable at first, this places the human psyche in a very tenuous position.

They have to possess a certain level of emotional understanding in order to navigate the accurate steps. When tied with their own cultural complicated feelings towards Yaoshi, it can all form a level of cognitive dissonance and dissociation in order to process things.

With reference to how the "Aeons" in Herta's simulated universe could capture notice of the Trailblazer from his actions, why would this then be a stretch? Especially when the Luofu is a place already filled with Yaoshi's blessings, along with those who actively pay homage to their practises, it is all too easy for the Aeon to take notice of repeated engagement from a certain device.

Diviners who try to place themselves in the mindset of an all too generous Aeon will likely be further poisoning themselves with not only knowledge but also a stronger unfiltered emotional connection with Yaoshi.

With parasitic comparisons of my Yaoshi portrayal, I like to think that the diviners may suffer a similar fate to the ants who have the unfortunate displeasure of crossing the path of the Ophiocordyceps unilateralis.

Once infected by the fungi, ants would often alter their behavioural patterns by searching for areas best suited for fungal growth. They then attach themselves to leaves, remaining there to their deaths from which the fungi spores grow and release from the spores in their head. This is something that has devastated multiple ant colonies.

Similarly for diviners, they will remain unawares to the facts that mara symptoms have begun to develop at an erratic rate within them. In the ensuing days to come, they may experience a radical change in ideology, compelling them to follow down Yaoshi's path or join up with the Disciples of Sanctus Medicus.

Those who fight to retain their own lucidity may experience the soul crushing endeavor of losing their mental faculties periodically, feeling their bodies and mind revolt against them. It is a slow, terrifying and debilitating experience that may cause them to take the only means out rather than give in to Yaoshi. Thus, also succeeding temporarily in accomplishing the Aeon's goal of relieving them from 'suffering'. They cannot escape not even in the end.

[silentstaresfanficandfanart]

guys i freaking did it fraeking did self therapy so i could edit this ritsu into the image, ensemble stars CAN be good for your mental health see! This was just so freaking ritsu-core I had to sit down and hardcore speedrun through trying to process some trauma so id stop getting flashbacks during this, its uh, not 100% BUT my flashbacks decreased in severity and frequency enough i could finish the piece without making myself miserable explanation for what i did below

Id do a below the cut thing but i cant figure out how that works so sorry for the long post but i figured i should share it since it provided me relief so freaking fast-? (again im not cured but ...it helped.)

(I sat down, processed my trauma by going over what i learned from my traumatic experience and not shying away from the things i wanted to avoid because well they were making me have flashbacks, carefully going over what i learned from it in detail that allowed me to regain some control over how the situation affected me and how i handle situations going forward and how it changed my view of the world, and then i went over in detail how i would handle it if a similar situation came up and what little i can actually do to prevent it, while also assuring myself that its okay that theres a certain degree of uncertainty but that its a very rare and unlikely thing for that to ever happen let alone multiple times in my life and ill probably never encounter it again, and since i took my brains concerns seriously, it seemed to be more willing to actually let me believe that this time. I feel ...so much better and like a weights been lifted. I cant believe i just freaking did all this becasue i needed to make a meme so bad but honestly im so proud of myself, worth it. definitely reccomend it, I really wish someone had told me sooner that telling yourself what you learned from a situation and making it part of an uplifting narrative and that kind of thing is in fact, what it means to process trauma and that theres actually a definition for that and its not just wait around and hope your brain unfricks itself. i have a lot of work left to do on myself but i feel so much better... thanks to original poster for making a meme so good i had to make my own ver-)

Saw this post and immediately knew I had to make it Ford

(Og post under cut)

[wokelander]

SOFTER, SOFTEST !

ft. curly x fem!reader

tags. piv, body worship sort of, rimming, big dick, tit job for like 2 seconds, creampie, size kink, scent kink, balls…

note. hai.. will get back to leon soon and I think mw fandom is lacking noncon and incest fics severely.. so i will get on that with jimmy. don’t know how to characterise him yet so ooc .. just infatuated with his breasts tbh i don’t know anything works in this universe LMFAO like idk just take this with a grain of salt.. for miss @pupwashing please ignore typos !! unedited :3

You miss Curly.

You miss him more than you did yesterday, more than an idiot misses the point, like a dick misses a wet pussy–You just miss him.

It has been four months. Twenty-one weeks. One-hundred and forty days. Three-thousand, five-hundred and twenty hours. Too many minutes, a hell of a lot more seconds, the closer he gets the further he seems to be.

Big numbers make it feel like you’re getting nowhere so you cut those twenty-fours into one day. One day and he’ll be home. One day and you’ll be in bed with his stomach crushed against yours, the warmth of his flesh searing yours, fucking him into next year, until he loses his halo.

Videos aren’t enough, photos don’t do him justice, toys don’t live up to the feel of a real dick. You miss that face he makes when he cums - it’s a block away from his crying face. You miss him face down, ass up, punching holes into his dignity one thrust at a time. God, you miss that dick, how he goes red all over, him in nothing but that stupid fucking smile.

One day, you tell yourself in the mirror that morning. One day, you tell yourself when you take your lunch break. One day, one more microwaved meal for one, one more lonely night.

It used to be a big deal, you think. The whole going to space thing. Curly says it’s no big deal, but you’re pretty sure that in your great-grandpa’s heyday it was impressive. You’ve seen videos of hoards gathering to watch a ship take off, to greet crews when they landed. Today, it’s you and a plump, older woman in her bathrobe waiting in the cold.

You could spot him in any crowd, glowing like a ray of light, mostly because he’s tall, partly because everything fades into abstraction when you notice how tight his uniform is. Good god. Did he get bigger? You’re starting to sweat, it’s hard to focus when your boyfriend is making a long-sleeved jumpsuit look naughty.

Curly’s hair is a little longer, blond curls licking the nape of his neck, falling onto his forehead, his eyes are so bright and his smile is white. He looks like a policeman’s emotional support dog. A really busty support dog. He scans the sad scattering of friends, family and drivers. You’re so taken off guard by the sight of his buttons popping you almost forget to wave at him.

He beams when you spot him, suitcase dragging behind him as he jogs over. Everything is in slow motion. Like that old movie - Baywatch. He’s so excited to see you, taking you into his big arms, shoving your face in his chest like he knows just where you’d like to be. You’re disappointed in your lungs when they beg for air, lifting your head and placing it on his shoulder instead. He smells like sweat, hotel shampoo and something metallic.

“Oh.” You open your eyes and spot Jimmy skulking behind him, an unlit cigarette between his lips. You narrow your eyes at him, and Jimmy does the same. Real shady guy, the type you’d cross the street to avoid. He’s always trailing after Curly like a bad omen. “He can’t come home with us, honey,” you tell him gently, not wanting to sound like a bitch.

Which you are.

You don’t want him smoking in your car, you don’t want Curly to invite him over for takeout because that means it’ll go on for hours and you won’t get your mouth on his big, stupid dick for another day.

“Hm? Why not?” Curly asks, pressing a kiss into your hairline, the tip of his nose bumping yours tenderly.

“I don’t have space in my car for both of you and the luggage, she’s small. What if she tips over? You’re heavy enough as it is.” You smile at him, cheekily, giving his newfound hips a squeeze. They’ve always been there, but now they’re like wow. It’s only been four months, is he on steroids? Did he get pregnant? He is glowing… God knows what’s up there in the atmosphere, some cosmic horror waiting to knock up your poor boyfriend.

Curly shrugs, offering an apologetic smile to his friend. “You heard the lady.”

Jimmy’s permanent scowl seems to deepen, cementing itself in his dermal layer. “Whatever, man.” He shoves his hands into his pockets, shoulders slumped as he makes a beeline for the phonebox.

He lifts his suitcase and loads it into your car and you watch his biceps flex. You see through his clothes, you remember every freckle on his back, mapping them out like stars, leading to those dimples low on his back, the perfect resting spot for your thumbs when you grab his ass. His body is so convenient. Like he was made to be fucked every which way.

“I missed you, I thought about you everyday,” he says against your lips, leaning in to kiss you over the gearshift. “I put your picture in the cockpit actually, Jim didn’t like it, but it kept me going.”

Always so earnest. You almost feel bad for missing his body more than him.

“Aww, Curly, honey,” you coo, pinching his cheek and cupping the other, “I missed you even more.” He nuzzles into your hand, eyes closed as you comb your fingers through his messy hair.

As much as you would like to indulge his sentimentality, you have no patience to spare. If you sit here any longer, you’re going to soak through your jeans and onto your leather seat.

You put the car in drive—

“Captain? Open up!” There’s a younger man knocking on the window, leaving his grubby handprints behind. “I wanted you to meet my mom!” His voice is muffled through the glass.

You lock the windows.

“Did you lock the windows?” Curly asks, lips downturned like he’s about to pout.

You unlock the windows.

“Of course not, baby.” You pat his head and grit your teeth.

They talk for fifteen whole minutes.

Thank you for taking care of him, he can be such a handful—Oh no, not at all, he was a joy to have—I’m glad he came back in one piece—He’s a good kid—Oh, I don’t know about that—Mooom—I’d be happy to have him back for our next long haul—Seriously, Captain?—

You squirm in place, shifting from side to side, thighs pressed together as your panties stick to your core. When Curly introduces you to his crew mate, you offer a strained smile and nothing more.

The window whirs shut. You make it home in record breaking time with four tickets and only a few points taken off your license. It doesn’t matter. You’re home, inside with the curtains drawn and Curly still has clothes on.

That’s not right.

“Take it off.”

“Huh?” Curly pushes his luggage into the corner, the top few buttons of his jumpsuit have come undone and you see the tuft of blond hair on his chest.

“Take it off, please?”

“My clothes?”

“No, your wig, baby.”

He laughs, good-natured, mild-mannered, and so fucking hot.

If he won’t do it then you will.

“I haven’t even showered—“ He starts, but you shush him with a kiss, murmuring a ‘good’ against his pink mouth.

When you part, spit keeps your lips connected, the string of fate or whatever. You go in for another, hands fisting the fabric of his collar, forcing him down towards you. Curly lets out a keening noise somewhere in the back of his throat like a dog scratching at the bathroom door.

“I know, my baby, I’ll give it to you.” You pout at him, thumbing his kiss-swollen lips and watching his eyes droop. “Oh no…” The buttons on his uniform when you try to open them.

“It’s okay,” he mumbles through a mouthful of his own spit, “cheap stuff.”

“I know, but you looked so good in it.” It’s a shame, but you need to see him bare, sweat as his only accessory.

“You think?” He near bats his lashes at you, stepping out of his uniform, and you swoon.

“God, yeah.” You push him down on the couch, Curly falls back with a soft grunt. It’s not very big, especially for a man of his size, but it’ll do for now.

His cock swells in his boxers, you feel it beneath you as you sit atop him, admiring the view below. The wide expanse of his chest, the sweat pooling in his collarbones, those tits. You don’t know what else they could be.

“Wow.” You take a handful of his chest, plucking his puffy pink nipple. “Look at these, I might have some competition.”

“Shut it,” he huffs out a laugh through his nose, and the tips of ears redden.

“I’m serious, baby, you’re, like, huge.” You can’t tear your eyes away from his soft flesh, moulding beneath your fingertips like dough, you could fuck them if you really wanted. “What happened out there?”

“Had a lot of spare time, I guess.” Curly smiles sheepishly, expression contorting when you bend your neck to suck his nipple into your mouth with a wet pop! His jaw slackens, and his cock jumps like it’s been given quite the fright.

You only have one complaint. His tan lines have faded. Floating through the galaxy for months on end can do that to you. You miss them, but you missed Curly more, so you’ll make do with what you have.

And you have more than enough. More than you can handle really. You can’t even get a grasp on his bicep, he’s stupidly big and your hand is on the smaller side.

You shift backwards, wet cunt dragging over his impossibly big bulge where only his underwear keeps you from him - you kind of admire your pussy for being able to take it. Your mouth moves on, hands still groping as much as you can of his chest as you lick the ridges of his stomach, it’s like he’s forged out of marble.

Softly, Curly rubs the back of your head, trying his very best to keep his eyes on you and not let them fall shut. You feel his stomach muscles rippling under your tongue. They contract when you trace around his navel, placing a sloppy kiss just below it, where a patch of curly hair leads to his wet cock.

His cock is drooling through the white fabric of his boxers, they’re soaked enough to be see-through, you spot the fat, pink head that has been missing your kisses. “You’re so wet, baby, is it all for me?”

With a pitiful noise, he tosses his head back and nods sadly. It’s funny to hear a man of his stature whine, but it suits Curly so well.

Your fingers hook in the waistband, tugging his underwear downwards until his fat cock springs out, it’s so fucking fat it weighs itself down. The leaky head twitches, pre dripping down his thick shaft, leaving a moonlit trail to his heavy balls. So full of seed they might burst.

“Oh… Poor baby.” You give them a gentle squeeze, and Curly’s eyes roll back into his skull, hips jolting upwards.

The urge to take it into your mouth right then and there is tempting, you hold back, you want to take your time with him. Make him feel special. You seat yourself between his thighs, one leg thrown over your shoulder so it’s easier to fit on the sofa. Your thumb runs along his pink slit, dribbling out pearly strands of pre that web between your fingers. Curly whimpers, biting down on his fist.

“These are cute.” You take note of his meaty thighs, how they’ve only gotten bigger, a comfier place to sit. The stretch marks don’t go unnoticed, streaking purple and pink along the milky flesh of his inner thighs like faded brushstrokes.

“Mmmph.” He blinks at you, pouty, lashes wet with impatient tears.

“Yeah, mmmph, I know, baby, be patient.” You’re a big, fat hypocrite.

His scent is stronger down here, clean and soapy, but the tang of sweat prospers, and the underlying smell of him. The smell of his pillow, the smell of his few-days old clothes, the smell of his towel after he works out.

A few more kisses here and there, using the flat of your tongue to lave over strips of his sinewy skin, leaving him spit-slicked and breathless and flushed. You hoist his other leg over your shoulder, he’s heavy, but you’re horny and it’s given you a sudden burst of vitality.

“Fuck,” he gasps out, gripping the top of the couch, one arm over his face as you lick up the seam of his balls, mouth latching to the swollen underside, where they feel heaviest.

Curly’s cock leaks into your hair, the weight brings it down to rest on your face, tip pressed into your hairline, dripping down the bridge of your nose like sweat while you make a mess of his balls. Stuffing them into your mouth one at a time, using your hand to give the lonelier one a squeeze when your lips are kissing up on another.

The kiss to his perineum is enough to make him moan. Curly knows what’s coming. You go lower, nose nestled into his balls, breathing him while your hands spread his ass cheeks apart to get to the spot you love most.

Curly’s hole is darker than the rest of him, not quite pink like his cock, ruddier. He’s tight and he smells good. So good. You’ve never minded the hair, you think it’s pretty cute. Curtains match the drapes.

Affectionately, you kiss his puffy rim, and it throbs.

He lets out a groan that is half mortified and half ready-to-blow-his-load.

“Sure,” Curly says, voice breaking as you circle his hole with the tip of your tongue. He tastes like him, musky and sweet and coppery. Curly is home and your tongue is in his ass where it belongs, wriggling its way past his pulsing rim, hopefully all the way up into his heart.

Your thumb and middle finger stretch to meet around the girth of his cock, stroking him slowly as you work open his asshole, tongue pushing back in when he pushes you out. Once you deem him wet enough, you push a single finger knuckle-deep and he cries out, hips bucking up off the couch.

Much to his dismay, which he shows in the form of a pained whimper, your hand leaves his cock to splay over his stomach and hold him down to the best of your abilities. “You have to stay still, honey.”

You feed a second finger into him, his hole squelching as you curl them inside of him. Curly clenches tight enough to cut off your blood circulation, sucking you back in when you ultimately pull them out with a lewd noise. He opens his mouth on instinct, pupils so blown out his light eyes seem dark, you push your fingers down his throat and he sucks.

“You’re so cute,” you mumble, watching him intently, he’s like a pin-up model of some sort. An X-rated action figure. “Taste good?”

“Not really,” Curly says. He’s so honest it makes you laugh. He shuffles back to rest his head on the arm of the couch, cock bobbing, still leaking like nobody’s business, leaving little droplets of wet in its wake.

It’s ready to burst, but you’re not done with him yet. You haven’t had your fill. When you spend half your time with your head between his thighs, you miss out on all the faces he pulls. So you spit on your tits to get them wet, his cock is slick enough, nothing should chafe when you squeeze his cock between them.

“Christ,” Curly grits out, brows knitting together, the second coming and he hasn’t even had his first.

“You wanna cum like this?” You ask, kneading your tits on either side of his cock, each time the tip pops up past your cleavage, it bumps your chin and leaves it slick.

“No…” He shakes his head, curls bouncing, sticking to his forehead, the hair near his nose is curlier with the added sweat. “Inside.”

“I can do that for you, babe.” You smile at him, acting like that wasn’t your plan in the first place, like you haven’t been dying for a warm creampie since he landed back on earth. You give the fat head of his dick one sloppy kiss, making sure to tongue his slit before you clamber on top of him.

It should be an easy task to get him inside, you’ve been wet for the last twenty-four hours, your pussy is throbbing like it’s got a heartbeat. Slick dries on your inner thighs and your clit is buzzing, a rush of arousal passes over you like a cold wave when you lift your hips to guide his dick into you.

Oh. Wow. That’s a stretch. 

In theory, you know big Curly’s dick is. It’s a fucking horsecock, and you have eyes bigger than your stomach. You always overestimate yourself. You think you’re gonna be just fine, then his fat tip breaches your little hole, no matter how wet, and you lose it, scrambling to grasp his shoulders as your body is racked with shivers.

Curly’s kind enough to steady you, big hands finding purchase on your hips. His needy noises get through to you, and you push on, sliding down and taking him to the hilt. His dick curves upwards into your cervix, rubbing the fleshy opening as you adjust to his dick after four whole months of nothing worthwhile.

He’s so big. You’re so wet, slippery pussy slicking up his cock, and making things easier for the both of you.

“I love you.” Curly shudders, looking right into your eyes like he’s afraid to blink and miss a single thing.

“I love you too,” you tell him, eyes on his tits.

He’s so deep, feet planted on the couch as he fucks into you, unable to help himself. You get it. You’re tight, warm, and wet. Better than his fist. Your pussy is noisy, squelching each time you bottom you, grinding your clit into his pelvis, feeling his cock twitch each time you tighten around him. The plap of his balls hitting your ass when enough momentum is built up.

Curly’s helpful, when he sees you tense up, throwing your head back and rolling your hips over and over, you want him deeper and deeper, he wets his fingers with your slick and rubs figure eights into your clit.

It’s just enough to make your toes curl—Oh, who are you kidding? You near blackout when you cum, moaning so loud you scare yourself. You see black. Like someone’s drawn the curtains in your mind, ending the show. Your nails dig into his skin, but he’s always put up with that like a champ.

“Holy fuck.” Shaking still, you blink to clear your vision, you’ve wet his navel and his tummy and the couch might be ruined. You don’t even remember when he came inside you. What a shame. Feels good though, still warm. Sighing, you lay against his chest, Curly’s soft cock slips out of your hole, resting on his thigh. “Welcome home, Captain.”

[maiamore]

TRICK OR TREAT

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female!Reader - No Outbreak Rating: 18+ | W/C: 3.3k

Summary: Joel deals with the hard part of raising a little girl when she turns out to be a sneaky teenager. He decides to bring her back by barging into a party uninvited and learns a very sweet lesson he might just bring home with him.

Tags: orgasm denial, handjob but not really, use of degrading terms, brat taming, unspecified legal age gap, sexualisation of a halloween costume not meant to be creepy please take it with a grain of salt

A/N: heavily inspired by this tiktok that had me in a chokehold for weeks, i’m a slut for the single dad trope god help me.

MASTERLIST | EXTRA

One of the worst things in the world might just be having to deal with the fact that your little girl would grow into the dreaded phase—being a goddamned sneaky teenager. Joel didn’t think it would’ve happened to him this soon. 

It had been a definite no to going to whoever’s at wherever’s when Sarah asked him for permission last week. But now—he was standing in his empty home holding a greasy brown takeout bag—with a very missing daughter. It didn’t take a genius to know where she might’ve gone.  Joel tried his damndest not to let his anger riddled mind cloud his judgement. After all, he was once a teenager too. Even though it might’ve been a long long time ago, he understood, didn’t he? 

Sneaking out of his window to head down to his buddy Adler’s place for cheap beer and a good time. Getting to see the prettiest girls in Austin County wearing next to nothin’, so willing and impressionable.

Yeah. Maybe he didn’t want to understand. 

God knows he’d been exhausted. Ten hours working through sweat inducing, back breaking labour. Even making a stop at Starbucks for the stupid bear claw Sarah loved. He had to remind himself—although it wasn’t exactly a comfort—that parenthood was a thankless job.

His bulky, dirtied work boots crunched over artificial autumn leaves on the front lawns of a much richer neighborhood. Dark skies lit up with an amber hue with the sheer amount of halloween knick knacks—through the gated fences and all, he took in the sight of the over the top front yard. Eyeing the cheesy decorations, an ache filled his heart at the sight of the carved pumpkins. It reminded him of the pumpkins he had all loaded up in his navy Chevrolet. 

Sarah had been begging to carve pumpkins together and he’d spent nearly two hours at Home Depot picking ones she liked. “Dad! You gotta pick the good ones.” She was too much like her mother in that aspect. Persnickety. A trait he loved and hated—but his little girl had gotten all the good traits between him and his ex. Or so he thought. The ache he felt in his chest quickly manifested into indignation. He was pissed—the metaphorical dark cloud muddled his mind and vein popping out on his furrowed brows. Being a single dad was hard enough, he’d always been patient. But this counted as blatant disrespect in his mind. It was something he refused to let go without consequence.

Ironically, he’d blended in. Still in his work clothes-hardened after a long day, rugged and sweaty. Worn out dark green flannel, dirty work boots dragging across the sticky floors. A perfect contractor type 'costume'.

Before he even managed to get far in the house, his footing stutters when something hooks around the back of his tool belt that hung loosely on his hips. His line of sight followed what seemed to be a blue hook. Joel blinks, confused, now looking down at a woman who seemed older than the juvenile crowd she was in.

She was...dressed head to toe in a Bo Peep costume. It was endearing just how much effort this whole number would've probably needed. Had it down to the damn crook with an ankle length milkmaid dress.

What you didn't expect, was to be met face to face with the kind of face you'd find in your mom's nudie mags that she kept poorly hidden. Tired looking, brooding but charming in a rugged way. He was an all fuckin' Red-Blooded American man. You shook your thoughts away as quickly as it came. You had to focus on the stranger in your home.

Drawing your crook back, you adjusted the white bonnet on your head with its curved edge—knocking the crook onto the ground, in a futile effort to seem intimidating. Which was failing miserably. You were certain your expression was giving you away.

His deep brown eyes makes an exaggerated pass over your costume. You step back, giving him the same once-over with your arms crossed. The hell was some dirty looking old man doing here? You eyed the toolbelt that hung on his hips down to the dirtied outfit, it could very well be a costume but it'd looked a little too realistic. 

Joel shifted, the faintest flicker of self-awareness tugging at his posture. His hand came up, rough and calloused, the kind of hands that look like they shaped wood into frames and sanded edges smooth. He drags his thumb absently across his jeans, trying to smudge away a streak of grime that clung stubbornly to the fabric. It only half worked. Your brows quirked at his gesture as if you'd just found a crack in the drywall. 

"I don't remember ordering a plumber."

"Funny," he shot back, "was bout’ to ask where your flock was.”

You gave Joel an unimpressed look. Lips pursed with eyes a little narrowed. Willing yourself to not laugh at his wit.

“Lookin' for my daughter,” he explained gruffly, a hint of annoyance in his voice. “She snuck out. Thinkin’ she might be here.”

Your brows furrowed even further at your flimsy explanation. “Uh, not possible.” You retort simply. Blocking his way as he’d tried to pass. 

“I’d personally made sure it was known to the parents that they’d be here.” You adjust your stance. Although your size had no match for Joel’s, he could’ve probably flung you aside if he’d wanted to. 

“Gotta be more specific dude.”

He towers over you, broad shoulders blocking your view of the living room completely. You tip your head up to look at the source of the dark shadow casted over you. 

“Sarah Miller. Curly hair. Brunette. My daughter.”

You instinctively backed into the shoe racks by the hallways. Eyes widening at the sudden blatant invasion of your space. You were pretty sure he’d heard you swallow in nervousness. Your lips parted to speak but the words had died somewhere in your throat. 

You could smell him. Fuck. Musky, earthy…why the hell was that such a good smell? 

You blinked a few times before snapping back into your usual persona. Squinting, you try to recall where you’d heard that name. 

“Wait—…Sarah Miller? Yeah. I know her. Her dad said no to coming.” You said with folded arms. Sure of yourself. Though that made you pause. So this was her dad. Joel Miller. 

“She’s…she’s not here as far as I know.”

He raised a brow at your response. He’d noticed your reaction, the subtle swallow, the hitch in your breath, the way your gaze lingered on him for longer than you had to wasn’t lost on him either. 

“And I would know. I’m chaperoning this damn thing.” You said simply, properly introducing yourself and how you’d been hosting the party for your younger brother. Joel barely acknowledges the details. His eyes flicked past you to scan the room, then back again, sizing you up as if you were withholding something. It was clear he wasn’t here for small talk.

“You sayin’ I been lied to?”

“I don’t know who lied to you. But this is my house. Well—” 

Your parents. But he didn’t need to know that. “But I know what goes on around here. Alright?” You shot back. A little more defensive than you intended to be. Wetting your lips in nervousness. “She’s 19. Just call her.”

Joel watched you speak, his eyes lingering on your parted lips. The way the light played on them, the subtle shine of your tongue as you wet them. He was starting to forget why he’d come here to find Sarah.

He furrowed his brows, not really in annoyance, but in thought. “She’s not pickin’ up. That’s why I came over.”

“And what makes you think she’d be here?”

He’d run a hand down his bearded jaw, looking a little impatient. He didn’t like being questioned like this, not to mention having one of the prettiest girls he’d seen in a long time being the one to challenge him. 

“Gut feelin’. Father’s instinct. Call it what you want,” he said, meeting your gaze. “Don’t matter if you ain’t helpin’, I’ll go lookin’ for her my damn self.”

Joel hadn’t given you a chance to process his words, let alone respond when he’d bulldozed his way past you. Luckily, you’d stumbled back into some kid heading out the hallways.

You straightened up, still reeling at being unceremoniously shoved aside. A laugh bubbled out, half-amused, half-exasperated, as you straightened yourself.  It wasn’t everyday that an agonizingly sexy, single dad barged through your space and swept you out of the way like you were crumbs on a table.

Joel had been scanning through the crowd for what seemed to be forever, his expression permanently etched into a scowl. Shoving past rowdy college frat kids. He shot a quick look over the inebriated partygoers. They were barely even wearing costumes—if that even constituted as clothes to begin with. When did lingerie turn into appropriate Halloween attire?

His thoughts then strayed to you. A pretty little thing. There was something deliberate about the way you carried yourself, a quiet confidence reflected in the costume you thoughtfully crafted down to the details. Ribbons n’ frills and all.

Joel cleared his throat, jaw tightening against an  intrusive thought. He didn’t even know you. But the way your wide eyes had met his earlier—and those soft, glossy lips of yours. It stirred something deep inside him, a quiet ache in a part of him he’d long ignored.

He snaps out of his daze when a younger girl rushes past him. And he catches it—curly brown locks. Joel doesn’t hesitate, closing the distance within a few long strides. “Sarah!” His hand shoots out to grab the arm of an unsuspecting party goer, she looks at him, mortified. “—Shit. Sorry. Thought you were...” He manages when he realises. Sighing as he raises both palms up, stepping away from the girl. “—...my daughter.” He says, more so to himself.

He draws his head back. A hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose. The feeling that he might be overreacting about the fact that his daughter had snuck out creeps in. He stops by the stairwell, his exhaustion finally catching up to him.

Looking up at a figure moving past him, he then stops a younger guy mid-step, a kid in a sad excuse for an Indiana Jones costume, clutching a red solo cup. “You,” the boy, obviously a little inebriated, blinks as he sways slightly. “Me?”

“Yeah, you. Where’d you get that?” Joel nods at the cup.

Indiana Joke squints as though processing that question took some real effort. “Oh dude, there’s a table—like, over there. Just grabbed mine. It’s free, man.”

“Great. Thanks.” Joel, again, doesn’t wait for permission, snatching the cup right out of the boy’s hand. He takes a swig grimacing at the taste of nasty room temperature beer. He crushes the cup in his fist, shoving it back toward the stunned kid. “Here. ‘preciate it.”

“Right on, dude!” the kid slurs, throwing up a lazy hang-loose sign before wandering off, blissfully unbothered.

He huffs, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at the kids carefree jock vibe. Though his patience—or what little he had to begin with—wears dangerously thin. As he scans the room, his gaze catches on a flimsy strip of tape that half-heartedly cordoned off the staircase. Probably meant to keep people from heading upstairs though was doing a piss-poor job of it.

Joel’s jaw tightens at the idea of Sarah being up there with some—. His heavy work boots drags across the floors. Ducking underneath the tape to head upstairs. He paces around the hallway, it was nothing like his home for sure. Looking around at a framed picture of what seemed to be a damn soup can. He cringes, noticing a room to the left. By the time he pushes his door in, his phone buzzes in his pocket.

Sarah M. (10:15pm): Dad. Are you coming home soon?

Joel freezes mid-step. What? Did he make a mistake? His brow knits into a furrow, rubbing the back of his neck as he tips his head up to look into the room. Joel stares around the room for a moment, taking in the empty, though very much lived in space. The kind of room that he wasn’t about to admit just how much he liked it. 

He steps further inside, cautious, his boots presses into the creaky floorboards. His eyes trailed over the setup—a CD player sitting on top of an oak shelf, band posters and old movie memorabilia lining the dark green walls. His fingers brushes over the weathered spines of a Lord Of The Rings trilogy tucked into the shelves. “Man after my own heart,” Joel mutters, then eyeing over a Bachelor’s Degree hung on beside the shelves, reading—your name.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

A voice echoes through the dark room, the space lighting up in an amber hue with the click. Joel whips around to look at you. He moves away from your shelves, though, he doesn’t look quite as apologetic for someone who’d just been caught lurking in a place he shouldn’t have been.

“It’s bad enough you just bulldozed into a party you weren’t invited to, but now you’re lurking around in my room?” 

He doesn’t quite respond to your anger. Folding his arms to observe just how much you could mouth off at him uninterrupted.

"Careful, now."

“…Oh you sick fuck—” You mused. “Bet you aren’t even Sarah’s dad.” Stepping a little closer to him. “Getting your rocks off to your fantasies of girls who could be your daughter’s ag—”

His gaze hardens visibly, jaw ticking at your accusations.

“Darlin’”, you’d shut up right then, throat tightening as he steps closer to you. You weren’t sure why you wanted to push him like this, but you had.

Swallowing thickly at the raw desire builds in your core now that you both were now alone, isolated from the prying, juvenile crowd. The proximity wasn’t helping either. You hadn’t noticed before, but Joel had a way of monopolizing people to his liking without even trying. Dark brown eyes threatening to break past your barriers.

“I ain’t your daddy, sweetheart. S’not on me to put you in your place.” His hands planted on the edge of the dresser behind you, essentially trapping you. He leans down more so he could be level with you. 

“But girls like you need to learn, don’t they?” He whispers against the side of your head, the baritone in his voice sending shivers down your spine.

You nod dumbly. Chewing on the inside of your lips. 

“Yeah?” He hummed. A slow hum of approval at your pliance. A far cry from the intolerable shit you were earlier. “Y’wanna be good for me, huh?”

His gaze scanned through your features, detecting any signs of fear. He found nothing but your arousal in your eyes reflecting his own. “Answer me.”

“Yes—…yes. I do.” You breathed out. Finding yourself snug between the dresser and Joel’s imposing figure. 

“All dressed up proper n’ good.” He’d sighed into his words. Thumb coming up to rub over the pieces of fabric that covered your nipples. Joel wasn’t sure why, but it did more for him that you hid whatever you had to offer in your costume.

Teasing, coaxing the sensitive buds out over the lace. “What’s wrong, baby?” 

You couldn’t do anything but clench your thighs in frustration at the lack of direct contact against your tits. Couldn’t trust yourself to speak either.

What a fucking jerk. 

Joel’s other hand cupped around your other breast, kneading it into his rougher palms. It feld good, god, it felt so fucking good. You felt his thumb drag the ruched fabric that covered your chest to caress the sensitive buds. A soft gasp left your lips, saccharine sweet. 

He’d wasted no time to dip his head down to suck your neglected tit into his waiting mouth. Other hand shifting down to slip beneath your dress. Gathering the fabric by your waist. You let out a strained moan when you feel a  finger pushing the gusset of your panties aside to probe a finger into your already soaked pussy. “Lord a’mercy. Bo peep’s a fuckin’ slut now ain’t she?”

A strangled moan left your lips. Furrowing your brows to the edge in his words. “If you’ve got nothing nice to say maybe you should just shut the fuck u–ahhh–..p!” You gasped, arching your back to the intensity as he’d continued ministrations. 

He fucked your needy pussy with just his thick finger. Your cunt sucked him in desperately, convulsing around him. Joel grunted against your ears. Your sweet moans nearly enough to make him cum. He knew the second he slipped his cock into that soft pussy he’d never be able to stop. 

But he couldn’t allow you that pleasure. 

You watched in anticipation as he’d palmed his quickly hardening cock over his jeans, twisting his toolbelt around so the tools attached wouldn't hurt you.

“What a fuckin’ mess.” He mutters, ridding your pussy of his finger. With a slight tilt of his head, you’d understood enough. 

Sinking to your knees for him wordlessly. It didn’t matter that your knees were debasing yourself deliberately before him. You wanted to pleasure this man. Desperately. Your dress pooled full around you, providing Joel with a sight he didn’t quite realise he’d come to love.

Feeling his hand tangle into your hair to press your cheeks against his jeans. You’d let out a soft whine. Nuzzling your nose against the stiffening bulge.

You’d heard a dull clink of a belt. Staring up at Joel with a coquettish gaze.

You watched as he freed his thick cock from his jeans. Rough hands that engulfed the entirety of your face tilted your face up to look at him. “Don’t think you deserve this baby.”

You’d let out a huff of annoyance mixed with lust and impatience. He was intentionally fucking with you. 

His heavy cock leaks with pre-cum, moving to smear the milky liquid against your cheeks. He’d let out a groan. Opting to fuck his cock through tight ring of his thumb and index fingers. You’d tried to tilt your head, just so you could attempt to wrap your lips around the weeping tip, but you were met with a harsh tug at the back of your head. 

“Uh-uh.” He warned. Forcing you to just watch as he pumped his cock before your face. You could smell him, slightly sweaty from the day’s work, but the heady scent just made you ache all the more. 

In an effort to ease the pain of your throbbing cunt, you’d attempt to slip your fingers into your soaked folds beneath your dress, only to be met with another tug. A disappointed sigh leaving his lips. “Never gonna learn.”

He jerks his cock languidly. Dry rubbing his cock with wince. A finger comes down to slip into your pouty lips. “S’this what you want? Stuffin’ your pretty mouth full with my cock?”

Your tongue wraps around his fingers. Hollowing your cheeks, drooling over it, you take them deeper before he pulls out of your lips with a slick pop. A trail of saliva following. He smirks down at you, lightly smearing the messiness against the bottom of your lips.

With the wetness gathered, he strokes himself easily. Groaning at how you were peering up at him through your lashes. Just waiting like a good girl for a reward that would never come.

He could feel himself getting dangerously close now, his hefty sack tightening up, ready to burst. With a grunt, he lets go of your hair, grabbing around your jaw once more. He pries your lips apart with his thumb.

“Fuck. Open up f’me.”

He angles his heavy cock to rest on your tongue. Groaning as his thick, warm cum spurts into your mouth. Not even letting you enjoy the notion when pulls away before tucking himself back in. 

You’d pitifully looked up at him with your wide eyes blown out with lust. Confused at his lack of attention to you. He’d helped you up. Tapping your jaw condescendingly. 

“Oughta watch what comes out of your pretty mouth next time, sweetheart.”

Your eyes narrowed a little more as he presses a chaste kiss to your cheeks before leaving you to stew in your own blue-balls. You lifted your wrists to wipe over your lips, tasting the remnants of his salty come. A vibration in your dress pocket catches your attention. 

Shithead (11:04pm): “Dropped Sarah back home earlier. Don’t think her dad will find out. Thanks sis, owe you one.”

[novy2sirius]

WHAT LOSING YOUR V CARD IS LIKE

Post Warning: Minors don’t read this post. Also remember that you should take this with a grain of salt because the whole chart matters. These are isolated placements

Why the 5th house represents losing your virginity?: Due to derivative astrology the 5th house can tell us about our virginity being lost! This is because the 6th house represents innocence while the 12th house represents losses (using the 12th as the ascendant it would be 12,1,2,3,4,5). You can also check your 5th house ruler for more insight on this though!

What this post refers to: This post represents losing your virginity as in having sex for the first time. This does not include losing it to cucumbers, hair brushes, toothbrushes, or any other foreign items you shove in your gushy.

Aries 5h

It may hurt and you may bleed a lot when losing it since Mars represents pain and blood. One person I met with this placement had what’s called an imperforate hymen and had to get it surgically removed. Although there may be physical pain though it will still be very passionate sex. The person you lose it to will have deep sexual desire for you. There will be a lot of flirtatious energy and sexual tension leading up to you losing it. You will be very turned on.

Taurus 5h

It will be a very sensual and calm experience for you. You will probably lose it to someone that you’re dating at the time since Taurus is ruled by Venus, the planet of romance. You could lose it somewhere very fancy and high class as well. Example: Your date could take you to a fancy hotel to lose it. This can also mean that the process is very slow since Venus is associated with sloth.

Gemini 5h

There will be healthy communication between you and the person you lose it to. You could meet the person you lose it to at school or through social media. The person you lose it to may use things they learned through p*rn so make sure to tell them that’s not realistic and tell them what you really like! I also recommend not making any s*x tapes with this placement as it can indicate getting leaked more easily than the average person.

Cancer 5h

You’re going to lose it in your house or your sexual partners house. This is a good placement to have because it can mean you will feel very comfortable and the person you lose it to will be very considerate of your feelings during s*x. However, the downside to this placement is that you could possibly get pregnant after losing it so use protection and be very careful. Something random I will add is if you don’t lose it at a house you could possibly lose it near bodies of water. Example: My friend has this placement and lost his virginity at the beach.

Leo 5h

You’re going to lose it to someone that makes you feel very confident in bed. The person you’re losing it to will be very generous toward you s*xually and praise you in bed. You weirdly could lose it in a more public place with Leo in the 5th house. With this placement you will likely leave the experience feeling very happy with how it went.

Virgo 5h

Since this sign is associated with “innocence” the person you lose it to could also be a virgin like you. The person you lose it to will make sure that you’re pleased before they are. You could possibly feel scared to because you want to be really good at it due to your perfectionism in the bedroom but remember that we all start somewhere and you will improve over time.

Libra 5h

You will lose it to someone you’re in a long term relationship with at the time/someone you’re dating since Libra is ruled by Venus, the planet of romance. There will be a very flirtatious vibe between you two leading up to it and you will feel a huge romantic spark. Venus is the planet of harmony which can mean losing your virginity is actually a harmonious experience for you and goes well.

Scorpio 5h

You will lose it to someone you’re very sexually attracted to. If you’re a girl and have this placement consider yourself lucky because with Scorpio being ruled by Pluto (the planet associated with org*sms) you will likely finish your first time. Most girls don’t because they have to get the hang of things and become more comfortable in order to. The s*x between you two will be very passionate and rough. At worst with Scorpio being primarily ruled by Mars it could indicate it being a painful experience.

Sagittarius 5h

You could lose your virginity while traveling. You will lose it to someone that’s pretty experienced most likely. After losing it you may find yourself wanting to explore s*x with a lot more people. Since Sagittarius is ruled by Jupiter the planet of ease this could be an experience that comes at ease for you. You could possibly lose it someone you met at college/university.

Capricorn 5h

You will lose your virginity at an older age (depending on your other s*x placements). Most of the people i’ve met with this placement lose it after 20 (the average age is 17 years old). Before losing it you could have lots of fear leading up to it due to anxiety. The person you lose it to will likely be older and have more experience than you though making you more comfortable.

Aquarius 5h

You could lose your virginity to someone you’re friends with (possibly a friends with benefits situation). This could be someone you met online since Aquarius is ruled by Uranus, the planet of technology. This could be something that is spontaneous and unexpected that you randomly decide to do. Since Uranus also represents uniqueness you could lose it in an unique location or have a very unique experience when losing it.

Pisces 5h

Majority of people that i’ve met with this placement lose it in their bed since Pisces is ruled by Neptune the planet associated with sleep. The person you lose it to will be very kind and compassionate toward your sexual needs and have strong sexual fascination with you. With this placement you could lose it to your soulmate.

Don’t copy my work - novy2sirius

[silv3reyedstranger]

As a creative writing major currently having to read and analyze and Think, it doesn’t surprise me that there are students who do what was outlined above because I see it all the time!!

The lack of engagement and intention behind the learning is painful to watch and have to interact with. People are so used to shortcutting, and it shows in their writing. There’s a sense of entitlement and arrogance in shitty writing that is unbelievable.

Like yes, feedback should be constructive, but that doesn’t mean all feedback is wrong or “beneath” you. Everyone has room for improvement, and when workshop days occur the point is to critique and discuss writing with a deep and critical eye. It’s like, don’t go into creative writing if you already think you’re the shit and you have nothing to learn!! Sure, not everything everyone says is going to be right and true, but you need to be open to listening and considering.

I digress, but the point is, poor attitude is rampant. It’s so clear people don’t read, and a lot of writers don’t think about people in a complex way. WHERE’S THE NUANCE??

It also goes back to how people use AI to shortcut through assignments and literally everything in their lives. People don’t think anymore and it’s detrimental. Yes, the world fucking sucks and we all want things to be better, but literature should reflect people being bad, people being good, people learning, people making mistakes. All of that is what makes literature so human. Literature is art because it’s a record of human life and all we’ve loved and lost.

TLDR; READ. EXPERIENCE. KEEP AN OPEN MIND. DON’T BE A PRETENTIOUS ASSHOLE.

Okay, thanks for coming to my TedTalk :)

Student wrote "I have no interest reading about bad people doing bad things" in their response to the book

[milksnake-tea]

hey all !! normally i wouldn't engage in something like this on my blog, but considering that it's happening to a friend of mine, i felt i had an obligation to speak out. sorry for clogging up the tags/interrupting your scrolling 😭

tldr: @/hxveneru has stolen the works of my good friend @lowkeyren not once, but twice and is deleting any comments calling them out.

edit: they've changed their user to @/yneri; if you've blocked them already, this doesn't really matter bc they're still blocked :) reminder to not engage with them, they're just looking for attention. block and ignore!

i know. fun stuff. proof is under the cut.

please note that i'm doing this of my own accord, and the only involvement ren has had in this post is me asking for permission to post it since, well, it's an issue mainly affecting her.

also i should say beforehand but. don't ??? send them death threats please 😭 we are better than that. i'm mainly making this to spread awareness about the issue :)

reblogs are appreciated to spread awareness.

first stolen work is ren's oneshot "drunk words, sober thoughts!" for aventurine here.

as you can see, it was posted on June 15th, a little over two months before hxveneru posted their own oneshot.

for reference. hxveneru is a new blog and all of their posts are in the month of september, proven here via their archive.

and here's the two oneshots side by side, with ren's on the left and the stolen one on the right.

notice how the oneshots are exactly word-for-word except for the title and synopsis? even the author's note is exactly the same. obviously i can't fit the whole thing here, but this should be enough.

honestly it's. i have to laugh at the audacity to just copy and paste like hello???

and here's the second work that was copied, with hxveneru's "diff scenarios w hsr men" taking from drabbles from two of ren's works.

these are the two fics that were stolen from, with their dates attached. both are posted far before september. links are here and here if you want to double check..

now let's look at the drabbles that were - once again, copy and pasted. first is blade's, again with ren on the left and the stolen one on the right (ren's is circled bc they didn't take the hcs part).

and here is the sunday drabble that was stolen.

so far, those are the only works posted on their blog. i was also informed that they had apparently stolen from @/exuvianen's post here but deleted it, but since said post is deleted, we don't have evidence for that so take it with a grain of salt.

but yeah! just wanted to let yall know out there, especially since the plagiarized works have already gained some traction and have 100+ notes on them. i've talked about them vaguely on my blog before, so if this sounds familiar, yeah this is them.

plagiarism is shitty, i shouldn't have to say that. it is not that hard to just write your own stuff. i know validation and publicity make you feel good, but stealing someone else's hard work is not the way to go. writers already have enough to deal with. just don't do it. what's the point of getting validation if it's not even your work?

again, don't send death threats, please. that's a bit far, and they likely won't even do anything since the plagiarizer has already been called out before and this was their response.

not a single ounce of remorse or shame. people have gotten way too comfortable on here.

also "who the hell is ren anyway" bestie you blocked her 😭😭 and ignored her ask to you. that's why ren can't dm her to sort it out privately btw, in case you were wondering.

anyways! that's all i have to say, thanks for sticking around this long and have a great rest of your day. hxveneru if you see this. hi ig ?? id say smth to you but i doubt you'd take it seriously so i won't <3

[bahrtofane]

promises under the stars

It's strange. When kisses under stairwells and behind his parents house turns to no more than passing gazes. To hatred. But this is the life you live, the life you have chosen. So you live. You will live.

Jude x fem!reader

Word count - 6.3K+ (yikes !!)

Watch it - angst with minimal fluff. enjoy ?

p.s. - i took a few creative liberties with the time lines an what not so plz take it with a grain of salt and dont think too deeply about it thank u

you can read Judes pov here !

—-----

“Jude, “ you sigh. He doesn't look at you, he's afraid of what he’ll see and you know it.

It's a warm summer night, and you sit side by side on the bleachers of his training field. You waited for hours for him to be done, all for just a few moments together. In full honesty, you're not even supposed to be here, you've been threatened from both sides. And even family overseas have joined in. it's a mess. You think you told them you were off to the library, something like that. 

You pulled so many strings just to be let inside to watch training, likewise for Jude. But you're here, he's here. That's all that matters.

Only the lights on the field illuminate you, but you have memorized his face to need no light to see him. Your fingers grab into the seat under you, knuckles turning white. You're afraid. Oh so afraid. 

“Please,” you try again, soft and steady, patient. 

He finds the courage to face you, ripping himself from the doubt that surrounds him. 

You are what plants him to reality, keeps him steady. Your smile is enough to calm any worry, wave away any woe. He hates what he has to do. 

“You know this is the last time I’ll see you,” he mumbles. He can't keep risking things the way they are. There's so many eyes on you as it is. He won't put you into harm's way, even if it means parting ways to do so. He wrings his hands together. Breathe, he tries to remind himself. Breathe. 

You nod, swift and curt, “I know.” oh how you know. You've been dreading this day to come for a while now. And now that it's here, what can you do? 

He picks at the cuffs of his training jacket,“I told them I would marry you, but my agent said it would be unwise.”

“You would marry me?” you whisper, eyes wide. 

“A thousand times over. “ he finds your hand, gently lacing it together.

“I wish things were different.” a knot in your throat forms, and tears well in your eyes.

He presses a kiss to your forehead, gently bringing you snug against him as you sob. You will never understand why your families are so adamantly against you two all of the sudden. Your whole childhood was filled with teasing and jokes of marrying one another, giggles when you would be forced to stand in pictures, but now that it was to be true suddenly the jokes faded and anger took its place. 

He is good for you as you are good for him. Jude is a man like no other, patient, caring, kind, soft and easy to you yet firm to all else. He holds each door open, never forgets flowers, even when he's away. Surprises you with your favorite sweets, never misses a good night or good morning text. Buys you things you mentioned casually in a fleeting conversation, all because it comes from your lips. If you were to wish for the world he would buy it all, tied neatly and delivered to your window sill. 

He takes each burden off your mind with a smile, carries your things, sends a ride to any place you wish to be. (he's working on the actual license).

You fully expected your families to be static, jumping for joy and diving straight to wedding planning. Instead you were met with a brisk, “no.”

No? No to the man who has overtaken your heart and mind? No to the man who wishes to see your flourish and bloom in every regard, every aspect, every part of life? It's cruel in a way. You once used to grimace at the idea when you were younger, fake gagging and instead choosing to wrestle with him in the grass. And now you beg to be allowed to see him. 

To ban your union is one thing, but to see him at all brings too much weight on your heart. 

You fought every step of the way, every step until now. It gets to be too much at a certain point, when you have to watch your very move in fear of being caught, of being seen with him. When eyes wash over you with lips upturned in sneers and whispers soon following. 

The delicate facade you've built is beginning to crack at the seams. Soon there will be nothing left to keep you together. You fear going mad. 

So you choose to let him go.

Your phone buzzes, prying the two of you apart. Your heart leaps to your throat. Have you been found out ?

It's just a twitter notification. 

You sigh, rubbing your eyes. He rubs gentle circles on your knee. His hands are warm. Just like you remember, just like you dream of. In the gentle quiet of your room you close your eyes and wish for him. 

“We can't see each other but I want to keep in touch. I'll wait for you. If you'll wait for me.” he whispers.

You see the tears begin to roll down his cheeks. Ever thoughtful Jude, waiting for you to finish crying to allow himself to do so. 

“I'll wait for you, no matter how long it takes. “ you nod, leaning on his shoulder. 

And you do just that. 

Youre forced apart when a teammate tells him to get going. 

He scowls, “hold on.”

The teammate, whose name alludes you, shrugs and jogs back inside.

You stand, watching him shake the tension out of his shoulders. 

“This is it then,” you mumble, lip quivering. 

“Yeah,” he takes your hands in his, “guess so.”

You bit your lip to stop any more cries. He unlatches a hand from yours, brining it to cup your face gently, wiping the streaks of dried treats left on your cheeks. 

“I love you,” he leans down, pressing a single kiss to your lips.

“I love you,” you nod, chasing his lips. He gives them to you. Soft and easy. You screw your eyes shut. Oh you're crying again. 

You part when you can no longer breathe, foreheads pressed together while your chests heave.

“My angel,” he sobs.

“Ill find a way back,” you kiss his cheek.

He nods, here,” shaking his training jacket off and putting it on you. 

Someone yells his name and he sighs. One last kiss to your forehead. 

You watch him sprint down the stands, giving you one last smile before disappearing in the tunnel. 

—--

Dortmund is kind to him, you watch as you flourish on the field, never missing a game. You know it's too much to go in person so you stay tucked into bed, laptop out and always always waiting for his name to be announced. Giddy as he looks at the camera. Some days you even convince yourself he's looking right at you.

He calls when he can, facetime you when he's at the facilities. Obnoxiously flexing to the camera while you laugh. You treasure these moments. The few minutes a day when the time difference allows for an overlap. Just enough to get you through to the next day. He always blows a kiss to the camera, and you alway catch it. No matter how cheesy. 

“I stubbed my toe.” he whines on the other end.

You laugh, “and whose fault is that.”

“Yours.” he decides. 

“Uh huh.” you shake your head fondly, raising a brow at your phone that sits on a window sill. Today you're at a cafe getting some work done. And he just finished dinner. 

“Think you'll be able to come to a game soon?” he asks, voice barely a whisper. 

You stop typing, frowning, “Jude…”

He shakes his head, “I'm sorry. I know. We can't.”

“Maybe in a year or so? Things should be cooled down by then.”

“Sure,” he shrugs, “they still giving you a hard time?”

You blow air through your nose, “hard time is an understatement, they've practically banned sports.” making light of the outrages situation helps you feel better some days. Jude joining in helps. He always helps. 

“So dramatic.” he tuts. 

You nod, “so dramatic.”

—--

The year comes and goes. The texts slow down till they are few and far inbetween. You can't blame him. You watch him dominate the field in each appearance, breaking records and showing the world what you've always known, showing just how special he is.

His following count skyrockets and he gets a blue check. You feel special to be one of the few he follows. No matter how silly. Even when he doesn't reply to you and posts on his story you try not to take it too hard (you let it get to your head on bad days.)

You wait for each reply patiently like a lifeline nonetheless, connecting the two of you together. You drop everything the moment his name flashes on the screen. You try to ease the butterflies that float and twist in your stomach, the jitters that make it hard to type out responses right. But you can't help it. 

He wins the German cup. And you get a call late into the night, bleary as you reach for your phone, groaning while you put it to your ear. Skipping over his face that illuminates the screen, smiling. Cheeks flush and eyes blown wide. 

He giggles, “hi.” 

“Hi,” you mumble back. 

He giggles again, “m in your ear.”

You squint, bringing the phone in front of you and getting your first good look of him of the night. 

“Hey Jude.”

“Hey love.” he sighs dreamily. 

You come to your senses soon enough, scooting to sit upright, pushing your pillows around getting comfortable. 

“Are you drunk?” You laugh. 

“Shhh…” he puts a finger to his lips, “secret.”

You raise a brow, “you’re not doing a very good job at keeping it that way.”

Bursts of laughter bubble from his lips. Swaying side to side while. He blinks, hard, mouth open while he stares.

“ ‘M fine.” He nods. Proud of himself. 

You frown, “Are you going to be okay? Are you alone?”

“Erlings with me. My best roommate.”

“Okay good. Be safe.” 

“You’re so pretty.” Is what he manages to get out. 

“Thank you. You should go to bed.” You smile. He’s sweet, no matter how drunk. 

“But I missed you.” He pouts, bottom lip quivering and for a second you think he’s about to cry. Instead he blows a kiss to you. Of course you catch it. 

“I missed you too. But it’s late, for both of us.” You lean against your pillow, blinking against the dark of your room. 

He hums, tapping his finger against his chin. “I won the cup.” He blurts. 

“I know love. I watched.”

His eyes go wide, “you watched me.”

You nod, “the whole game.”

He scrunches his nose, “wow.”

“You did amazing.”

“Wow.” He repeats.

You yawn, squinting against the time in the little corner of your phone. 

“Jude.”

“Hm?”

“Head to bed. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

He sighs, shoulders sagging, “fine.”

“I love you. “

He perks right back up. “I love you. You. You.”

You give him a little kiss to the screen and he manages to fall back on his bed sighing happily. You hear erling come in and decide to hang up. You hope he manages to get out of his kit for the night. 

——

Things start to calm down on your end. It's almost like everyone's choosing to forget about the hell they've put you through. But you don't make a fuss, you are happy to have peace of mind, no matter how fleeting it may seem. It's just one step closer to being able to have him. Fully and wholly. 

He calls you early into the morning. He's sitting in his house, shirt off, smiling. 

“Uh oh. What's this about? “ 

He only smiles wider, bringing an ipad out of nowhere and showing it to you. 

You squint, “jude i can't see that. “

He huffs, “here,” picking up his phone and flipping the camera to where his ipad now sits on his lap. 

On the screen reads flight information, for about 2 weeks out, destination is to you. Your eyes go wide and you hear him chuckle on the other end. 

“No way. No way oh my god.” you all but squeal.

He flips the camera back around, “Can't wait to see you again,” he beams. 

“I missed you so much.” 

“Me too.” he mumbles, lips curling in a smile. 

——-

You greet him at the airport, flowers in hand. No you don’t care how cheesy it is. Even if you have to wait in the most obscure place, car parked and nerves rising. Playing with every button and switch on your dashboard, picking at every spec of dust you can reach. You got it detailed yesterday and you’re already nitpicking. 

You check and recheck your phone, picking at the petals of the flowers that rest in your passenger, until his contact illuminates your screen. 

You frantically answer, “hey.”

“TSA was being a bitch.” He groans. 

You chuckle, “that bad.”

“The worst. Where you at?”

You look around for signs, “arrivals, right next to the luggage cart return thing. It says door D5. “

“D5. Okay okay I’m coming.”

You hum, hanging up and drumming your hands on the wheel. 

He calls you again, “okay I’m walking out the door. Can you help me with the luggage?”

“Yeah-“ you unbuckle your seatbelt, putting your hazards on and stepping out of the car. You see him walk out the door and you almost drop your phone while rushing up to him. 

He lets go of his carry on, opening his arms and you slip right into them. 

“Hey,” he hums into your hair.

You laugh,“hey.” 

You unlatch far too soon for your liking out the sounds and rush of the airport pushes you to get him in your car and outta here. 

You grab his things, one carry on and one checked bag, clicking your keys and opening your trunk. He doesn’t let you do much else, lifting the suitcase and sliding it inside. Your little 4 door sedan manages to fit the checked bag in your truck. With not enough room for the carry in, it slides into your back seat. 

You close the door, patting the top of your car affectionately, “there. All good to go?”

He nods, opening the door to your passenger and gasping, “flowers?” Eyes going wide, eyebrows shooting in and looking at you. Lips parted. 

Oh yes. You forgot about those. “Haha. Yeah. Flowers.”

He picks them up gingerly, setting them into his lap as he gets into the seat. “Are these for me?”

You hop to the driver's side, buckling your seatbelt, “duh.” 

He giggles,”they’re sweet.”

“Smell them.” 

He does, putting his face in the petals, “woah.”

“Best flowers in town.” 

“Smells like. Fresh laundry.” He nods. 

“Laundry. You called my flowers laundry.” You sigh. 

He swats your arm, “it’s a compliment jeez. Just landed and you’re giving me a hard time.”

“Yeah yeah buckle up.” You flick his arm. 

The ride home is one filled with animated stories to catch up the time between you two. Completely oblivious to anything else as you drive with one hand, and the other plays with his fingers. 

You get to your little apartment, parking and getting his things out. Sliding your key card over the sensor and you guide him to the lobby. 

You roll over to the elevator and hit the button. Sniffling while it heads up. 

“Are you sick?” He narrows his eyes at you. 

“Nah.”

“Mkay.”

The elevator dings and you find your way to your little home, unlocking the door and motioning him inside. 

“Ta da!”

He snorts, “I’m excited.”

“You should be. Best house this side of the equator.”

He rolls his things inside, shaking his head, “so there’s better on the other side?”

You shrug, “there might be.”

He collapses on your couch the moment he sees it. Closing his eyes and sighing deeply. 

“Shoes off at the door Jude.” You slide yours off and set them next to your shoe rack. 

He groans, kicking them off and trudging back to set them next to yours. 

By the time you put his things in your room, he's out like a light, snoring softly. 

—--

You let him sleep, by the time he comes back to it it's dinner time. Groggy and cranky he pads over to your dining table, still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes but reaching for you.

He finds you eventually, plating the last bit of food while he wraps his arms around you, leaning into your back. You stifle a laugh  while he mumbles something about you being mean. You only roll your eyes, unlatching his grip.

“Time to eat baby.”

He only purses his lips, leaning against yours. You give him what he wants. Pressing a gentle kiss and guiding him to his seat. A sleep Jude is a clingy one you've learned. 

He eats all you make, complimenting and praising you after every bite. 

“You're so good at this.” he sighs, taking a sip of his water. 

“Anything for my favorite boy.”

He preens at this, smiling wide.

He's only here for the next three days but you'll take anything you can get. 

——-

Jude worries for you. 

Even in the gentle lull of your ac that fans his face while you're fast asleep against him.

He wonders who much longer he can keep doing this. Holding onto hope that down the line he will still have you.

His time is running out with you. It feels just like the day you parted at the stadium. Crying. He noticed you kept the jacket, neatly tucked in your closet.

It makes him frown. Making you waste your youth waiting for him. 

Part of him wants to keep you for him and only him. Keep waiting and hoping things will work out. Another part of him, much less excited, wishes for you to look him in the eye and tell him you don't love him anymore.

One of you has to do it, he thinks. 

Even if you move in with him and you get married. Is it worth the fall out? His mother hates you. His father cant stand hearing your name at the dinner table on the few days they eat together.

He knows the sentiment is shared on your end.

But he loves you. Oh how he loves you. 

—--

After he leaves you don't hear from him for months on end your worry rises, and when the replies also shorten, your fear takes a hold of you. Sensibility out the window and in comes every insecure thought. 

He's found a hot shot model to be with hasn't he. Or better yet a female player. Reporter perhaps? You're not dumb or blind, you know you're not the only one who sees how handsome he is. He's growing into his features beautifully. But does he see you?

Is he leaving you behind now, as his life and career continue to accelerate at speeds you can barely keep up with, is he no longer waiting for you ?

—--

Jude finds his routine once again. Training playing, training playing. It's a little dull, he thinks.

Much better if you would be here. 

But he can't have that. 

He stops himself from talking to you. It feels wrong. He can't shake off the feeling that he's only doing you wrong by making you keep up with him. So he slowly distances himself. 

—--

He cant stay away. Not even if he tries. 

He surprises you near your birthday. Completely unannounced while you're in the middle of cleaning. 

You open the door to a jittery Jude who grabs you close, pressing his lips firm to yours.

“Hello to you too,” you giggle in between kisses. 

Peck! “You're so-” peck!, “beautiful.”

You shoo him away, getting his things inside as he takes his shoes off at the door. 

“I missed you so much, “ he mumbles against the crook of your neck.

“Me too,” you sigh, clutching into his hands like a lifeline. 

“I got you tickets?”

You look up at him, “okay. Ill go.”

He attacks you with a hundred more kisses, bursts of laughter spilling from the both of you. You dont think youve ever been happier. 

—--

You do go. Sitting in the fancy VIP section while watching him warm up. You almost forgot he’s at Madrid now. Big leagues huh. 

He sends small waves your way in between exercises. And you only watch fondly.

When it's time for the actual match, you can't believe you get to watch him score. And he points right to you. 

You love him. Oh how you love him.

He finds you after it's all set and done. Kissing you silly while he ignores the hundreds of notifications that make his phone buzz and sputter on the table.

You frown, “who is that.”

He chews his lip, “prolly just the guys,” leaning back into your lips.

You're forced to part ways when the calls flood in, promising to see you soon when he takes care of things.

He doesn't come back to see you, instead leaving you to head back to your hotel alone. You try not to think too deeply into it. But you fear you are already starting to lose him. After everything really has passed and fizzled out to nothing but memories. You fear it's all too late. 

—--

You see him only once more during your stay in madrid. When youre all packed and leaving. He presses kisses to your skin whispering promises. And you believe him.

When you land back home you go back to your routine of watching him from afar. And again the replies shorten. So much so you only get the odd text every few weeks. Until it turns to months. And you're back to radio silence. 

It's almost a self pity party, trying to keep up with him. Even now that you can go see him, he can come see you, does he even want that anymore?

You crave to talk to him, to know him, to go back to the closeness you once shared. You know that's no longer your place in his life. You were someone he once treasured. Now you're another unanswered dm that lays in his inbox. 

Does it hurt you as much as it does him? You don't think so. Not when pictures of him on vacation with his “friends” surface. Who even are these people? You don't recognize a single face. It fills you with rage.

Almost like he's trying to erase his past life with this new squeaky clean image of the perfect player with the perfect life. Friends and all. 

Is he ashamed of you?

You fight the urge to call his mom and stir up trouble from the past. So instead you hunker down in your room and try to keep yourself busy and mind off of Jude. This turns out to be much easier said than done. 

—--

Jude finds himself in another after party, wearing clothes much too expensive to be getting champagne sprayed all over them. But what else can he do?

He crafted this image delicately. Can't turn back now. 

There's a woman who keeps whispering into his ear. She's not you. No matter how much his teammates howl and egg him on. He can't bring himself to do so much as face her.

He's not interested, gently moving her aside while he nurses his drink. 

She scoffs, calling him a slew of names. He frowns, excusing himself and making a beeline for the bathrooms. Locking himself inside a stall and leaning on its walls. 

He calls you. Of course he does. And you pick up.

“Hey Jude.” he can hear the smile in your voice.

“Hey love.”

“What's up?” 

He sighs, long and drawn out, “I just miss you.”

You snort, “really because it seems like you've been having a blast on beaches with people i've never heard of.”

Oh.

“It's not like that-”

“Jude. don't lie to me. If you've found someone else, tell me now.”

“I havent I swear. They really are just friends.”

“Why didn't you tell me you were going?” you whisper.

There's a beat of silence. And Jude can't find the answer. Looking at the ceiling of the club like it will magically come to life and give him just the right combination of words to make both of you happy. 

You sigh, “if we are going to make anything work I can't be out of the loop this much Jude. I can't know things after paparazzi do okay?”

“Okay,” he replies, meek. 

“Where even are you?” 

He licks his lips, “this after party thing.”

“Its in a club isn't it.”

He doesn't answer but it's confirmation nonetheless.

“Dont be stupid and start calling me more.”

He opens his mouth to answer, but you've already hung up. He rubs his eyes and head out the stall. Washing his hands and splashing some water on his face.

When he gets back out there, he decides to call it a night. Ignoring the groans and frowns he gets.

When he's back in bed. He's looking at flights to see you again. 

—--

Jude gets a call a few weeks later. 

It's right after he gets back from training. Hasn't even changed yet. 

The number is unknown and he ignores it the first time. Setting his phone on the dinning table and kicking his shoes off. 

When it calls back two more times he picks up. 

“Hello?” he scratches the back of his head. 

“You know why im calling.” its your father. 

Jude scrambles to take a seat, chewing his lips. What does he mean know why. He hasn't talked to you in a few days. 

“Um, I really don't know-” he gets cut off.

“This will be my last warning to you. You are not going to ruin my daughter's life i dont give a damn how old you are, how old she is. None of this player nonsense. She has a proper education. You aren't going to ruin that for her, do you understand?”

Silence. 

“I swear if I hear you coming around her or talking to her I will sue you and your whole family.”

The line goes dead and Jude sighs. Great. Just great. 

He calls his lawyer, seeing if it would be legal to sue. 

His lawyer hums, “well they can come at you from any angle really. Emotional distress possible defamation. Id lay low for now.”

So he does just that. Yet again going silent on you.

—--

He hears wind that people have put two and two together. Your instagram has been flooded with requests. You've always had it private but you've been forced to change your user name and picture.

You don't know how but pictures from when you saw him in Madrid have resurfaced. 

And have gone more than just viral. It's all people are talking about. 

Your work life has gone from just pleasantries and work only talk to people crowding around you begging to know more. You've had people show up to your workplace for god's sake. Begging to be let in so they can see you. 

Jude calls you, worried. “I'm so sorry I don't know how pics were even taken. I'm so sorry im so sorry.”

“I don't know what to do Jude i've never dealt with this kinda stuff.” you mumble.

“Hey, hey its okay. Ill get you in contact with a security company dont worry leave it to me.”

“Okay.”

“For now. I dont think ill be able to see you anytime soon.”

“Thats okay.”

“Be safe yeah?”

“Yeah.”

—--

Your family is in a complete uproar. They blame Jude. of course they do. Your father talks about suing him but you turn it down. 

“He didnt mean for this to happen.”

Your mother shakes her head, “this is why we told you to stay away from him.”

You dont regret any moments with him. 

It takes a while. A grueling few months for your life to finally go back to normal. But Jude rarely comes back like before.

You watch the months turn to years flashing by. Facetimes become a luxury of your past self. Calls are reserved for special occasions like an aged wine. Only brought out sparelily. You get one on your birthday but it feels forced. Heavy and filled with all too much silence. 

You've tried calling, texting. Rarely receiving the time of day. Who is Jude to you anymore? 

“Hey, “ he smiles. A picture perfect rehearsed one. You almost forgot what he sounded like when speaking to you. How long has it been now?

“Hi.” You mumble. 

“Happy birthday. Sorry I couldn’t be there.” 

You shrug, “it’s okay.”

Silence while you pick your nails. 

“Any plans?”

“I don’t know, maybe dinner with friends.”

“Oh Emily?”

You want to roll your eyes. You haven’t spoken to Emily in years.

“No Jude. We’re not in touch anymore. New friends I’ve met”

He mouths a silent “oh”. 

He wants to tell you why he's been gone for so long. But unfortunately he's caught up in a legal battle. Your father actually went ahead with it. And he's stuck trying to make sense of it.

The maniac got good lawyers. And he's using every last bit of the law to win it. Using the leaked pictures that caused you so much trouble as his main leverage. 

He's been advised not to talk to you. But it's your birthday. And now seeing you moved on, new friends, new life. It feels like it's time to let go. 

For your sake. He's only brought problems into your life. And you live a life now without him. He just hopes you're happy. 

—--

You see him once, passing by through the city center. You want to run after him, grab his shoulders and shake him awake, scream and yell, beg for him to remember your promise. But you do none of that. The second your gaze meets his, your heart leaps to your throat, you blink and he's gone.

You get a text from him a few days later, first since your birthday. 

Was nice seeing you.

You want to cry. What did he see? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. It wasn't nice. Not at all. It was awful. It ripped any piece of sense out of you and made you sick. 

You dont reply. 

—--

You wish you had. He gets called to the national team, and suddenly your family begins to boast of your connection to him. And that's just it. Your connection. Not theirs. Yours. You know him, you love him. Or you knew him. 

After so many years of cursing his name now they all but sing it. 

The local community is hosting watch parties, you refuse to go. 

You know the gossip around you as is. You don't need it said to your face. These people are unforgiving on their best days, cruel on their worst. More so the older generation who seems to hold not an ounce of basic human decency. 

And somehow you find yourself in a room painted in blue and white, you look away at the stares you get when you walk in. You're regretting coming at all.  You're wearing a blank jersey you've had for a while, slumped in the corner of the room, watching. Waiting for the comments to pour in sooner or later. 

But they don't, not for now. Instead, the room erupts with cheers and applause as Jude scores a goal, you smile. Not bad for a midfielder huh. The air is electric with excitement, but you feel detached, as if you're watching the scene unfold from a distance, picking at the plate of sweets that rests on your knee. 

As the game progresses, you can't help but steal glances at Jude on the screen. He looks different now, more confident, more assured. He's cut his hair, clean and precise. And yet, there's a sadness in his eyes that mirrors your own.

You wonder if he thinks of you, if he remembers the promise he made all those years ago. Has it really been years? But the thought is fleeting, lost amidst the chaos of the crowd and the weight of your own heartache. And soon I have a headache. 

When the final whistle blows and England emerges victorious, the room erupts into celebration once again. But you slip out quietly, unnoticed, lost in your own thoughts.

Outside, the night air is cool against your skin as you make your way home. You're not waiting on anyone, and it's a short walk away. The streets are quiet, the sounds of celebration fading into the distance.

You pause for a moment, taking in the stillness of the night. And in that moment, you make a decision.

You may not have chased after him when you had the chance, but you refuse to let this be the end of your story. You refuse to let fear and doubt hold you back any longer. There is no use to let yourself be defined by what ifs. 

With a determined step, you pull out your phone and type out a message to Jude.

Watched you play tonight. I'm proud of you.

It's a small gesture, but it's a start. And as you hit send, you feel a glimmer of hope stir within you.

Maybe, just maybe, this isn't goodbye after all. Maybe there's still a chance for the two of you to find your way back to each other, to rewrite the ending of your story.

But for now, all you can do is wait. Wait for his reply, wait for the future to unfold, and wait for the day when you can finally be together again, without fear or hesitation. In a way he'll always be your Jude. 

——

News reaches you in the form of an instagram post on a summer day.  Not family, not friends, not him. It’s your explore page that plasters it on your screen, in the middle of your morning routine you see him all tidied up in a suit, facing away from the camera, the side of his face illuminated by soft light. Next to his side is a woman in white, you only see a peek of her face but you call tell shes smiling. 

“Just married.”

Married. Just. Married. 

Oh. 

You don't register it at first, the words looking more like a foreign language than any coherent sentence. So you finish brushing your teeth and your hair. Moisturizing your face, slipping back into bed and rereading it over and over and over again till it finally does click for you.

He gave up on waiting.

You keep going back to the picture. He's grown into a proper man now. His features are full and bright. He's gotten a different haircut. Leaving behind the one of his youth. You read through the comments of teammates and old friends congratulating him. 

You realize the tie he's wearing is the one his dad got him when he first left for dortmund. You think you're gonna be sick. 

No one bothers to ask why you've been crying all day. It's safe to assume everyone knows by now, hell the whole population probably does. 

What changed his mind? What made it that he couldn't even bother to let you know beforehand?

And yet there's a stupid prick of hope that can't seem to go away. You're still waiting for him aren't you. 

—--

As the days turn into weeks, and the weeks into months, the reality of his marriage settles heavily on your shoulders. You can't help but wonder if he thinks of you, if he remembers the promises made under the stars, if he regrets the choice he made. But you push those thoughts aside, burying them deep within you, because what good would they do?

A sick twisted idea of wrecking his home blooms in your mind, but you know you can't. You just can't. Not to him. You can't take away something like this from him. 

Life goes on, as it always does, but the ache in your chest remains, a constant reminder of what could have been. You try to distract yourself with work, with friends, with anything that will keep your mind from wandering back to him. Yet, he's always there, lingering in the back of your thoughts like stardust. 

You hear snippets of his life through mutual acquaintances, through social media posts, through the grapevine of gossip that always seems to find its way to you. He's thriving, it seems, his career reaching new heights, his personal life seemingly content. Apparently he has a kid on the way, would you look at that. And you can't help but feel a pang of jealousy. To top it all off you still have no clue on who this woman is. Not who she is, what she does, where she's from. Absolutely nothing, it drives you mad to say the least. 

He hasn't spoken to you. Not since that day in the city center. 

Maybe if you would have known all that was to come you would've gone after him. Chasing him endlessly through cobblestone stress and crowded walkways. Would he have even stopped? Given you a moment of his day?

The same man who spent his days off in your apartment kissing your worries away and promising you a tomorrow you still cling to. 

You're a foolish foolish woman. And for some reason, you don't hate him. You don't think you ever could. Even after everything, every single year that's passed. A part of you will always love him. 

—--

[starsworldd]

Solar Observations pt. 7

readings are open! ⛓️

please take with a grain of salt ⛓️

I used orbs of 3 degrees for aspects from whole signs ⛓️

👾 some of my best sr years have been the years where i’ve had the same sr venus as my natal

👾 looking at the persona chart of your profected year lord can give you a lot of insights for the year ahead i’ve found

👾 chiron on the mc (both solar or natal x solar) shows a year of yearning for something very badly (most likely to be career/goal/experience related)

👾 having positive mercury-saturn aspects (including conjunction depending on sign) is a year where you are on top of your shit, maybe you feel like you conversations with others are thwarted in some way but better than most you’re preparing for something bigger, plans, plans, PLANS!!

👾 saturn conjunct mercury is a really interesting aspect actually for a solar return. it maybe harder to categorize and to process the world around you in a productive way, but you may also learn new subjects/wisdom.

👾 having venus at 28 degrees can indicate an exciting love/crush/relationship happening for that year

👾 moon at 29 degrees can show that from that year on out you will approach life from a very different mindset to what you had before. this mindset can last for a year or your entire life but either way it’s an anaretic degree so BIG STUFF! the sign can show what mindset you’re “ending” (ex: i had moon at 29 degrees in taurus in 2020 and from that year on out i really prioritized productivity and worked to stop my lazy/indulgent habits)

👾 planets at 20 degrees and what house those planets are in can show what themes/events prove to be very mystical or witchy that year. (ex: i had mars and neptune at 20 degrees with mars in the 7th and neptune in the 11th and that year i got back with my old friend group out of random chance and went on my first date with someone from that group😭😭 not me telling you guys my life tea. dating within friend groups is weird and would not recommend btw! but to each their own🩷)

👾 planets at the 1st degree + their houses show where you’re ambitious and what you desire, expect lots of action in these areas

👾 1st house ruler in 1st (aka your chart ruler in one of its domicile places) may mean that your by yourself or more alone, but most likely NOT in a bad way!! (self-care, self-improvement, reflection, etc…). check other houses that the planet rules to see what other important themes are emphasized that year (ex: libra venus in 1st house —> 8th house themes are important as well because taurus rules over the 8th)

👾 going off from the previous observation, planets in angular houses (1, 4, 7, 10) will ALWAYS be prominent throughout your year especially if they’re in domicile/exaltation/detriment/fall.

👾 a lot of celebrities have gotten big time famous the year where they had their 11th house in their 11th (ex: megan thee stallion, doja cat, billie eilish, etc…)

👾 just a tip, but make persona charts of your solar planets! if you don’t know how, go to astro.com, charts and calculations, extended chart selection, blue plus sign in the top right corner then fill out info from your solar return chart. after making this, click the “natal chart” tab, scroll down to “persona chart” :)

👾 jupiter/sagittarius in the 3rd or jupiter-mercury aspects show a lot of activity for the year ahead. fire/air = adventurous/fun activity, water/earth = self-growth/learning related (but arguably the themes can overlap), mercury in the third house is also indicative of a busy year!

👾 when i had mars in my natal 12th house last year i stayed up souper late almost every night regardless of weekend/weekday

👾 planets at 5 degrees show where there’s a lot of exciting things happening (ex: venus at 5 degrees -> lots of interesting meetups with friends, starting new hobbies, etc…, juno at 5 degrees -> partnerships open up new feelings of happiness, feeling loved, etc…). creds to @astrosky33 for this one!

👾 pay attention to the aspects made to your vertex for the year! and also what house the vertex falls in in your natal house. a couple years ago i had venus in my solar 4th trine my solar vertex in 8th conjunc turanus and was able to spend more time resting and doing fun things at home because unexpectedly (uranus) responsibilities/burdens placed upon me were lifted

👾 mars in the 12th house (including solar x natal) can show that you’re trying to break out of bad habits

👾 moon in fire signs can show a time of unrest or lots of physical activity at home, you have a lot of energy to do activities whether they’re serious activities or not

💜🤍💜🖤💜🤍💜🖤💜🤍💜🖤💜

hope you enjoyed!

[noyasaur]

make shifting fun for you ♡

do you ever find yourself spiralling after every 'failed' shifting attempt? do you stress whenever you do your shifting method? or worry about what step is coming next, or worry whether you will shift? find yourself doubting your abilities?

shifting is supposed to be fun.

and this does not sound fun.

the number one thing i have been making sure to do when shifting, is to prioritise my comfortability and enjoyability when trying to shift.

i always try and make the process as enjoyable and comfortable as much as i can for myself.

shifting is supposed to be fun, right? it's exciting! shifting should be fun and enjoyable- heck, you're going to experience a whole other reality! a whole other life, a whole other self, experiencing your wildest dreams and fantasies!

how are you going to expect yourself to shift if you're still stressing over the process of shifting?

find or make a shifting method/process that'll make YOU enjoy shifting, and keep you motivated!

do things that you LOVE doing that will make YOU feel motivated to shift/more connected to your dr!

shifting should not feel like a chore. going to shift should not drain you. shifting should not be boring.

it should be a fun and exciting experience!

don't worry about what method is the most popular or most effective or easiest to the general community. ignore the trending shifting methods, subliminals, or guided meditations.

everyone has their own personal journey with shifting and there is no right or wrong way to shift.

focus on yourself first. work out what you like doing the most/what you enjoy doing the most, what your strengths and weaknesses are, and then work from there to find a method/process that works for you!

for example, whenever i shift, i always ensure that during my method, i:

a ) am feeling good! that i'm feeling excited, happy, good, comfortable and am enjoying the ride! i do not force myself to shift if i feel drained, tired, bored, or i feel that i am forcing myself to shift (you can still shift when feeling these things btw! but for me, i don't like to because personally i don't get good results when i do. however, remember that this is just a me thing!)

b ) that whatever method or steps i'm doing to shift makes me feel confident and assured that I WILL SHIFT. by the 'end' or at some point of my 'method' i truly feel that i am going to shift and i can shift, and this whole thing isn't just me 'attempting' or 'trying' to shift.

you love imagining random scenarios of your desired reality, but worried it's not 'proper visualisation' and you're just daydreaming or imagining? who cares! imagination IS reality and if it makes you feel closer to your dr, do it!

you hate visualising and you just want to say affirmations over and over again because that's what you're the most comfortable with and makes you feel confident, despite what other people tell you?

do it.

in my experience, all the times where i've just done whatever i feel like and makes me feel like i'm having the most fun, i end up feeling the most confident i ever will be in my shifting abilities! it's because when you're doing things you enjoy/love, naturally you'll shift to have a more positive and happier mindset!

it also helps me to stress less about the 'process' of shifting and rather, focus on the destination and anticipation of my desired reality!

however, this is just a small tip from me! please take this with a grain of salt 🌷

and if you've made it to the end, just know that YOU WILL SHIFT!

[copperbadge]

Feeling a little overly perceived by Dr. Dodson right now, not gonna lie.

I'll throw a transcript under the cut, but both reading the transcript and listening to the video can be difficult as it's quite long, so here's some highlights. As always, these are the opinions of a specialist but only one specialist, so take with a grain of salt, and if you have research to add to this, please feel free to comment or reblog with it. I believe this presentation is from sometime in 2022.

ADHD appears to derive from issues in the corpus striatum in the brain. In most people, the corpus striatum filters out all but the most important input AND output; with ADHD, the things normally handled "outside of awareness" must be handled consciously.

People with ADHD don't see their emotions coming. Emotion is immediate, intense, and unfiltered, making therapies like CBT or ACT difficult, because you can learn the technique but you won't have time to employ it. Because people with ADHD have impulse control issues, expressing emotions "inappropriately" is common, leading people with ADHD to believe they can't trust themselves.

One function of ADHD-typical dysregulation is Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria, which nobody understands even a little. People who have it can't even adequately describe it to people who want to study it. It is intense, painful, and apparently impossible to control. Prevention is based in maladaptive behaviors designed to avoid it entirely (perfectionism, people pleasing, generalized withdrawal). The only currently known treatment is alpha agonist medication.

Lastly, by the age of twelve, a child with ADHD has likely received twenty thousand more "negative or corrective" messages than their neurotypical peers. (This isn't relevant to the rest, I just found it sufficiently horrifying to warrant inclusion. Fortunately for me, if I got 20,000 negative or corrective messages, I wasn't paying attention for most of them.)

Anyway, here's the transcript of the first half. I did this by copying and cleaning up the auto-transcript on YouTube, but I stopped at Question Time, so this is only the first half (the presentation). Transcription of the second half is available at YouTube.

There is suddenly a very large interest in the whole subject of emotional dysregulation and ADHD. That has been driven oddly enough by the Food and Drug Administration, which has just opened up several pathways that drug companies can study emotional dysregulation and whether or not their medications can get an FDA indication for emotional dysregulation. So it's sort of follow the money. Up until then, there was not a great deal of interest for ADHD emotional dysregulation.

We have to understand that the ADHD diagnostic criteria were not made for people like you and me, either practitioners or people who have ADHD or their families. They were designed for and made by people who do research and pretty much that's it. People who do research have to have criteria that they can physically see and count. "Little Johnny was up and out of his chair three times in the last hour," and you can write a three on your clipboard. Things which are invisible, not always there, hard to count, or even hidden by the patient, don't lend themselves to research very easily and so tend to be ignored. And so consequently this is one of the main reasons why emotional dysregulation -- until there was some other motive provided -- was pretty much ignored and disregarded.

Consequently ADHD right now, if you look at the 18 diagnostic criteria, are almost entirely behavioral criteria. What is the person doing? Not how is the person thinking, what is the patient feeling, how are they controlling their emotions, how are they sleeping. Things that are all very, very important to the person who has ADHD but which is essentially ignored by the diagnostic criteria.

Why should you care? Who really cares about this? Well, the definition of what ADHD is and isn't defines who and what will be studied. It defines who will actually get into a study and what questions will be asked. It defines who will be diagnosed with ADHD and who will not. One of the most common problems I get is with a secondary referral to me -- somebody clearly has ADHD but they're not pinging off the walls, they can sit and do their work, especially when they get into a hyperfocus, and so they're told they couldn't possibly have ADHD. When really they just have the inattentive subtype and they're not being driven by their behavior, their overt behavior. Therefore it defines who will get treatment, who will get insurance coverage for that treatment, and who will get accommodations in school when they're young and at the workplace when they're older.

Consequently we should also care because the other major components of ADHD get ignored. These are the ones that if you really stand back and look at it cause the greatest amount of impairment, the greatest amount of embarrassment, the greatest amount of just…problems in general. We're talking about cognition and thinking, that people with ADHD fundamentally think in a different way than do neurotypical people. They are able to engage with the tasks of their lives in a totally different way. Their ability to control their emotions and their behavior, control their emotional responses, tremendously affects their self-esteem and their self-definition. Who am I? What am I worth? What am I valued? Why am I valued in a certain way? What do other people think of me?

It affects tremendously the nature and healthiness of relationships. How you respond emotionally to the people in your realm makes a great deal of difference about the healthiness and gratification you get from your relationships. Being highly dysregulated in terms of your energy and emotions also affects deeply how well you sleep, how easy it is to fall asleep and awake refreshed, and of course it affects emotional dysregulation.

And this is probably, when you look at it in the long term and especially with adults, probably the most impairing part of the ADHD syndrome. The vast majority of people with ADHD have found ways around their academic and work performance, but they haven't found their way around their emotional reactions to the people and events of their lives.

At all points in the life cycle -- child, adolescent, adult, and elderly -- people who have ADHD nervous systems lead intense, passionate lives. Their highs are higher, their lows are lower, all of their emotions are much more intense. And that really is what we're talking about: not really the quality of the emotions -- people who have ADHD have the same types of emotions for the same reasons that everybody else does. What we're talking here, in terms of dysregulation, is two things: one, the expression of emotions, being able to choose whether or not you let an emotion out. And then, when you do decide to express it, how intensely that emotion is experienced and expressed by you as a unique individual.

Consequently just about everybody with ADHD, but especially little children, are always at some sort of risk of being overwhelmed by their own emotions from within themselves. This is something that needs to be really emphasized: a lot of people with ADHD grow up not being able to trust themselves.

So why is this happening, especially to people with ADHD? I think that just about everybody now would agree that ADHD is primarily a problem of insufficient inhibition, being able to slow down and keep things from happening. If you look at the mass of the human brain, 85% of all the nerves in your brain and out in your nervous system are inhibitory in function. We happen to be aware of the other 15% because we can see what happens when those nerves are used: they create movement, they create emotions, they create our experience and memory. We have to remember they are a minority of the actual mass of the human brain.

Most of what happens inside the brain occurs outside of awareness. What happens is the brain starts something, it gets it moving, and then uses inhibition to guide that toward the destination it wants. It's like shooting off a rocket -- shooting it off is the easy part, guiding it to where you want it to go is the hard part.

When you look at where stimulant class medications work, they work solely in the deep areas of the brain down in the basal ganglia, and especially in an area called the corpus striatum, which is just Latin for a "striped body". That's how it looks when you look at it -- it's got many very fine stripes in it. This area, the corpus striatum, is almost entirely inhibitory in function. What it does is that it inhibits neurological input and output to just the one piece of information or one action that happens to be most important at that time. Everything else gets handled, but it gets handled out of awareness.

Probably the easiest place to see this in action is when we're driving a car. Driving a car is the most difficult thing that the average human being ever has to learn how to do. It's a very difficult process, if anybody has ever had an adolescent learning to drive. But once we learn how to drive a car we do it largely outside of our own conscious awareness. We can drive along, talk to the person on the seat next to us, think about what we're going to have for dinner, sing along to the radio, and not really pay attention, conscious attention, to what's going on around us. But if suddenly something is out in front of the car, even before our conscious brain can process what that thing is, our corpus striatum has already handled it. Slam on the brakes, swerve to miss it, start to question that person's parentage, in the twinkling of an eye. The corpus striatum has been scanning everything, handling everything.

So basically what ADHD is, is that relative lack of inhibition that should be there. Inattention, which is a cardinal feature of ADHD, is the relative lack of the inhibition of other inputs or distractions. When we look at physiologically what's happening, we don't actually pay attention to one thing. Neurologically, we suppress every other thing we might engage with except the one thing that we want. It is maximally inefficient in that way.

Impulsivity is a relative lack of inhibition, of the expression of actions and emotions before you can think about them and make decisions about that expression. Hyperactivity is the relative lack of inhibition of physical and mental activity. When the physical activity of the hyperactive little boy who's pinging off a wall goes away in adolescence, they're still very much mentally active in their own brains.

So what? The “so what” for most of us is that when this area of the brain is not working as it should, people cannot regulate the experience and expression of their emotions. Emotions are experienced as completely unmodified and unscreened. The word that most people use is that they are raw. They come out without any modification at all, they go in without any modification at all. People can see this in hyperacusis, where somebody chewing or the conversation across the restaurant comes in loud and clear because it can't be screened out.

All this is tremendously overwhelming. We get overwhelmed by entirely too much input, and the impulse to have entirely too much output. It's exhausting, and when it does get inappropriately expressed it's embarrassing, so consequently people with ADHD must always be vigilant of themselves.

Now, when we look at the traditional therapies that have been used, or tried to be used, with ADHD, they have had very very poor track records. They're largely ineffective in helping people control the expression of what they think and feel. The reason for this is that people with ADHD don't see their own emotions, their own actions, coming. They find out about their emotions and actions the same way everybody else does: it's already out there before they even know that it's coming. Consequently they don't have the time and the warning to use the techniques and new skills that they may have learned in behavior modification therapy, or in cognitive therapy. They learned them, learned them perfectly well, but the cat’s out of the bag before they can make use of them.

Right now, as we sit here today, medications are the only thing we have to offer that have a proven track record, because they're there all the time. We have two basic groups: we have the stimulant class medications which are amphetamine, methylphenidate, et cetera, which help directly with inhibition. They help slow things down, they help inhibit both input that would distract us and output. It gives you the same two seconds that everybody else has, to see an emotion or an action coming up, to play it out in your mind. “If this happens then this will happen, then that'll happen. Oh, I don't want that to happen, I'll redirect it.”

The alpha agonist, of which we have two -- guanfacine and clonidine -- inhibit the energy driving the speed and intensity of response. Interesting enough, when we look at just clean effectiveness, when we measure how effective is this treatment, the alpha agonists are significantly more effective than are the stimulants. Usually that's kind of a false choice, because most people end up taking both classes of medication.

A very special type, I think, of emotional dysregulation is -- again a terrible technical term -- what's called Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria. We actually don't know what it is. It's much too early to tell. But it does seem to be a thing with which many people with ADHD identify. There was a brief article from ADDitude that got posted on Reddit, on their subreddit on ADHD; that particular posting got twice as many responses, in less than a month, than any other posting that had ever been put on that subreddit. It really touched a lot of people in a strong way.

In my own checklist, when I'm asking about Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria, the question I have is: “For your entire life, in other words going all the way back into childhood, have you always been much more sensitive than other people you know to rejection, teasing, criticism, or your own perception that you’ve failed or fallen short?” This is directly from a psychiatric textbook, an old one, and it's the definition of a technical term, for psychiatrists called Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria.

It's important to note, this is all a matter of degree. No one likes being rejected or criticized. Everybody hates it when we fail, we fall short, especially in front of other people. Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria is much more intense, and is much more than this universal discomfort.

When they were originally doing the research on this particular idea, 45 years ago, they wanted to get that intensity right up there in the name, and so they chose the word dysphoria -- which unfortunately happens to be Greek -- but it means “unbearable”. Because that was the description they were getting from people over and over and over again. Again, for reasons unknown, people with rejection sensitivity have trouble describing what the intense emotion is all about. They can describe its intensity -- “it's awful, it's terrible, it's catastrophic,” -- but not the quality of the mood. And so, over and over again, these research subjects would finally just tell the researcher, “Look, man, back off. I can't find words to tell you what this awful feeling feels like, but I want you to know I can hardly stand it.” And so that's where the word dysphoria came from. A researcher at Harvard who decided to put it into Greek, but that unbearable quality is very much a part of what's going on, a part of the experience of Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria.

It's extremely common in people with ADHD; my guess is that about 95% of my patients report it as a significant impairment, and about a third of my patients say that it is by far the most impairing part of their ADHD. For the majority of people, and most occurrences, it is not that particularly disruptive, but when it hits, it turns your life upside down.

So how is rejection sensitivity experienced? There's no warning. It hits out of the blue; there's no way to protect yourself from it. It happens all at once, it goes from zero to a hundred percent instantaneously. It is commonly experienced as being physically painful, as if someone just punched you in the chest or punched you in the stomach -- there's an aching in the core of your being.

Once it gets started it seems to be largely uncontrollable until it's run its course, whatever it is. The quality of the mood is indescribable. Most people struggle to find any words at all to describe this feeling, even though it's massively intense. The duration can be a few minutes to several months. It's a very potent experience and can make it very difficult to risk ever being rejected or criticized again.

If this very intense emotional reaction is internalized, it looks for all the world like an instantaneous major depression, complete with suicidal thinking. And so a lot of times people do get a diagnosis of major depression, because the clinician they're working with fails to pick up the triggered, instantaneous nature of the onset of that depressive-looking syndrome. If it's externalized, it presents as a rage that is directed at the person or situation that wounded them so terribly. In fact, being “wounded” is is a very common description. This sort of sudden trigger change, with an intense emotional response, not uncommonly leads to a misdiagnosis of borderline character organization.

So if you can't see it coming, and you can't do anything once it's happened, how do people try and protect themselves from episodes of rejection sensitivity happening in the first place? Some people use perfectionism; they try to be above reproach. They feel driven to be the very best at everything they do. These are the penultimate overachievers. It works, but it's also an absolutely terrible, driven way in which to live.

By far the most common response is that people become people pleasers. They are constantly scanning everybody around them and trying to figure out what that person wants or would approve of, and that's what they give them, so much so that it is the to the exclusion of what they want for their own lives. These are people who take care of others, please others, to the exclusion of any sort of gratification in their own lives.

Another very common way that people try to deal with this is that they give up trying anything new, giving up anything in which they might fail or be embarrassed. I have hundreds of patients who have never been able to apply for a job or ask someone of the opposite sex out for a date. Just the imagination of being told no is so frightening, so devastating, that they just say, “No, I'm not going there. I'll sit this one out.”

One of the most effective ways of dealing with this are the alpha agonist medications, and when they work they can be almost completely effective. Alpha agonist again is a tongue twisting name, but it's not as tongue-twisting as the full name, which is alpha-2 selective adrenergic agonists. So you can see why we shorten it a bit. They were originally blood pressure medications that came on the market in the early 1980s. They worked very poorly -- when they did work, at most they lowered blood pressure about 10%, which was measurable but it still required other things that needed to be done in order to get most people's blood pressure down into a therapeutic range.

We have two of them, guanfacine which was marketed both as immediate release and extended release under the name of Intuniv, and clonidine, which was marketed under the trade name of Kapvay, both as an immediate release product and as a delayed release product. They have been used as a treatment of the hyperactive component of ADHD for more than 30 years, so these are not new medications for the field of ADHD. They're very much the treatment of choice for the “hyperactive, disruptive, and obnoxious little boy” that is what most people have in their minds when they consider the notion of “What does a person with ADHD look like?”

The exact mechanism of action of these medications both in ADHD and especially in rejection sensitivity is highly unclear. We really don't know -- we have a couple of ideas but they are very definitely theoretical. The only thing that we know for sure is that the stimulants don't work by stimulating anything, and that the alpha agonists don't work by being alpha agonists. How they do work is completely unknown.

We have two medications, they seem to work equally well, so there's nothing that would lead you to choose one over the other. The problem is that the robust response that we're looking for that really changes people's lives, is disappointingly low -- at about 30% to either molecule. Luckily that 30% is a different 30% of people, so that 30% of people get a good response to guanfacine but it's largely a different 30% that get a response to clonidine. So if the first medication tried does not work, it makes good clinical sense that that one should be stopped and the other one tried. There was an unfortunately worded sentence in an article I wrote for ADDitude several years ago that gave the impression that you could use the two medications together; they should not be used together. You try one, if that doesn't work you try the other.

The typical dose of either one is in the range of three milligrams of guanfacine per day or about three tenths of a milligram of clonidine per day. If you take all the people who get a good robust response to either one of these medications, about 80% are going to end up at these doses, so it's by far the most common dose.

There are of course side effects. Anything that's going to adjust the adrenaline system of the body is going to have the potential for sedation as a side effect, and this does occur for about 25% of people. It's usually mild and it does go away -- over a period of several months. So a person has to be fairly patient with that. It can cause dry mouth, and it's by a different mechanism then the stimulants can cause dry mouth, so the two of them together can really make your mouth cottony dry. And the third one is an accentuation of a universal experience we've all had, when we stand up quickly and suddenly and we get dizzy, get kind of a head rush, vision goes a bit gray. The technical term for it is orthostasis. And this can happen more frequently when you take the alpha agonist medications.

The benefits of the alpha agonist medications take a while to develop. When you change the dose it takes five days for the benefits to develop, so once again they're not like the stimulants where what you see is what you get at one hour. It takes a while for these medications to work and to see all that they can do.

Now just as a side note, Strattera has been looked at in two studies for emotional dysregulation and the results have been what they call mixed. If they did work it was only to a very minimal degree, almost undetectable, so Strattera does not seem to be a medication one could use and expect to have it help with emotional dysregulation.

So in summary, emotional dysregulation is a basic feature of ADHD, is almost universal in ADHD, and it should be considered as a core symptom of ADHD that ought to be evaluated in every initial evaluation. Rejection sensitivity…it's unclear yet -- this is an old concept that has only been brought up in the last couple of years. Its exact nature is still unclear. It does seem to be a specific form of emotional dysregulation, especially in regard that it does respond very well to medication. But again, how it fits into emotional dysregulation is completely unclear at this point. It does seem to be something that's really important, though. It is a thing that resonates with a large number of people with ADHD.

[shera-dnd]

I have decided against my better judgement to be weird about the Dawntrail MSQ

and we can't talk about an expansion set in the fantasy americas without talking about

COLONIALISM

oh yeah, we're going there baby

So disclaimer that I may be brazilian, but my ass is white as hell, so take everything I say with a grain of salt. Also if any native americans have made posts on this please let me know so I can boost their analysis as well

Also also I'm more than happy to delete this post if I mess up. I'm genuinely trying to make a thoughtful analysis, so if I fuck up just say the word and this thing is gone from this website

Oh also also also, Dawntrail MSQ spoilers ahead!

So FFXIV has had a... messy relationship with colonialism over the years

The fact that the major antagonists for the first half of A Realm Reborn a literally called "beast man tribes" is absolutely not a good start to this story

Add to that the fact that The Twelve (Eorzea's gods) are shown to be kind all powerful deities, while the Primals (the tribal gods) are evil spirits summoned to bring destruction to the world

and yeah no ARR is not good with that shit. It's EXTREMELY not good. If I hadn't been told it got better later on I would have dropped this shit before I got to Titan

But they have been taking steps to unfuck things. First we're shown that even the "civilized societies" (in this case the catholic elves) can summon Primals, then that Primal summoning isn't an actual native custom but was introduced by foreigners with malicious intent, and that not all "beast man" practice that

Then they changed the names of the "Beast Man Tribe Quests" to "Tribal Quests" and then finally to "Allied Society Quest"

Which would have been an empty gesture had like half of the post-Shadowbringer patches, as well a lot of Endwalker, not been about forming alliances with those people and working together with them, recognizing that they have as much right to the land and to life as any Eorzean, this all culminating on the Primals being summoned with the express purpose of helping you protect the world you all share

I guess they realized that they couldn't have their big bad for most of the game be the evil expansionist empire, if they didn't like actually reflect in their own imperialist fantasies they were propagating

Then the teaser trailer for Dawntrail drops and everyone in the fandom is like "wait... are we gonna do a colonialism?"

And memes were abound of how all those lessons from before don't apply to the "New World" of Tural

THANKFULLY the actual questline leading to Dawntrail helped to settle some of those worries

We're not going to Tural to explore a new uncharted land, but are actually being invited over by the local royalty in order to aid them with their right of succession. We get introduced to the nation of Tuliyollal and how it's a thriving land with its own culture and not just a "terra nil" waiting to be colonized

Still there are some worries that this is gonna turn out poorly and that we're just gonna end up being white saviors

But I think they managed to avoid that pretty well

For starters neither the Scions nor the Warrior of Light are the protagonists of this story. You're all simply supporting character's in Wuk Lamat's story

A story that centers her people, her culture, and her family

And it's not even one culture. They don't portray Tuliyollal as this monolithic mish mash of every single native american culture

No, the lands of Tural are in fact comprised of multiple different people's and nations, each of them with their own customs and traditions which are informed by their history and the lands they live in

In fact learning about their cultures and partaking in their customs is the whole point of the Rite of Succession. It's all set up so that the next Dawnservant would be someone who understands and respects each of the peoples that comprise Tural

(I could, and probably will, write about what Dawntrail has to say about what makes a good ruler)

And our girl, Wuk Lamat, is shown to be the rightful heir because she really goes out of her way to understand each of the nations and show her appreciation for their customs

Putting her well above her Sharlyaboo brother Koana, The King of Unresolved Daddy Issues Zoral Ja, and whatever the fuck is going on with Bakool Ja Ja

(I joke, I love my two headed traumatized dumbass)

Tho I will admit that this does end up giving the tribes a somewhat "planet of the hats" vibe. Like their named NPCs are diverse and interesting, but you can just assume that most random NPCs of any given people are gonna act according to the stereotype

Which is unfortunate, but I have hopes that with the next few patches and the addition of Dawntrail's own Allied Society Quests, we'll get to see more to them

But that... is only up to lvl95 and the end of the Yok'Tural (southern Tural) segment

because then we get to Xak'Tural (northern Tural) and holy shit does it feel like they drop the ball there

Like they really COULDN'T keep themselves from making Shaaloani a fucking Wild West map

Instead of doing anything with the actual cultures and histories of Native North American people, they just do wild fucking west

Because there's ceruleum in them thar hills! And apparently Koana turned most of the region into Sharlyaboos too

So we get a bunch of Wild West frontier towns mixed with native american tribes and mud brick cities. We have trains and guns and a sheriff and a duel at high noon, but now everyone got native american names

At least there's one group off to the northern side of the map who seems to stick to tradition and live in harmony with nature, and that group is shown respect by the other people of the region

so we at the very least avoid the "cowboys vs indians" crap, but my god does that region just feel bad compared to everything else they had done so far

Then we get to the big twist: THE CYBERPUNK PORTION OF THE GAME

because yes, we go full fucking cyberpunk

so turns out that a whole segment of Xak'Tural got colonized by the kingdom of Alexandria, including the lands of the Shetona (Erenville's people)

And I feel like this is the most poignant section of the MSQ when it comes to colonialism

Because here we have Alexandria, an empire that has reached the limit of what it can do sustain itself on its own world, and so has decided to spread out and colonize others in order to gain resources

We see the Shetona and other natives of the region being separated from their families and kept in isolation from the rest of their people

And tho Queen Sphene is shown to be a kind and caring ruler who gives people a choice when it comes to joining the empire, WELL SHE'S STILL THE QUEEN OF A FUCKING EMPIRE

Like her form of kindness and just stagnant peace is put in stark contrast with Wuk Lamat's own love for her people and more proactive pursuit of happiness and harmony

(again with the "what makes a ruler theme")

Also the people that choose to be assimilated into the Alexandrian Empire? Yeah, they're doing so because Alexandria has advanced medical technology and you can only receive their aid if you're a citizen

Not only that, but you have to be a working citizen. We see later on a character being denied medical aid, because he lost his job, thanks to the King's decision and at no fault of his own

yeah this is cyberpunk, not just sci-fi

ALSO can we talk about how the technology used for that medical aid and the little gizmo they give you to signify you're now a citizen, will literally erase the memory of the people you lost

So the Turali who are assimilated into Alexandrian culture not only lose ties to their culture and their loved ones, but are not allowed to grieve their loss, because what they once had is slowly being erased

How their choices add up to survive on their own OR be assimilated

How this all takes place IN NORTH FUCKING AMERICA!

THE CYBERPUNK CITY IS LITERALLY SET IN THIS WORLD'S EQUIVALENT TO THE UNITED STATES

So yeah, I don't think is is accidental. I genuinely thing that they're making a point about the realities of imperialism and colonialism, as well as taking some shots at the US while they're at it

Of course this part is still centered around Wuk Lamat, and instead of having a moment of "the only ones who can stop the evil white europeans are the GOOD white europeans", we have Wuk Lamat be the one to save the day, defeat Sphene, and save her people from the colonizing empire

So I would like to argue that everything that happens from lvl97 onwards is them picking up the ball again and making a real point

buuuut that comes at the cost of us being unable to engage with the native peoples of Xak'Tural outside of the context of colonialism

Which genuinely fucking sucks, and I hope it will be remedied with the post-Dawntrail patches

As well as handling the whole shared land situation they ended up with and how this might end up in a Land Back sort of movement, and oh boy can they mess shit up royally there

So in conclusion FFXIV has had a messy relationship with colonialism and imperialist fantasies and tropes, but the devs seem to be making a concerted effort to undo their mistakes and show respect in their depictions of american natives

They still fuck up

boy do they

but they're at least trying, and I'd say Dawntrail so far has been quite well executed

so yeah, look forward to more insane rambles like this one I guess