#that helped more than anything else possibly could have i think

[sunnywalnut]

THANK YOU.

Tbh I did not expect you to actually respond and add to this post, but I am THOROUGHLY grateful you have. But I also would like to inform you(and anyone else that's uncertain about their ability to repost this)

Self diagnosis is valid.

Being officially diagnosed is a luxury.

Often one that is usually only given to those that show extreme or undeniable traits. And even then, you still could be denied.

I was 12 when I was diagnosed with autism. People have known something was "off" since I was 4.

I was able to feel the sideways curves in my spine and see that my shoulders were uneven before I got diagnosis for "mild" scoliosis at 19, after living a life complaining of back and rib pain.

I've felt my joints, all the way from my fingers to my toes, all fall out of place since I was 10, often times having to have my own mother massage my knees back into place so that I could walk, and even spraining my ankles simply going upstairs. All of which fell on deaf ears for the entire 20+ years of my life despite countless professionals, from muscular skeletal to rheumatoid specialists and even physical therapists confirming that I have hEds and possibly early signs of rheumatoid arthritis. And yet they still cannot diagnose it because they "can't treat it"

And the reason I say all of this is because I used to worry the same thing. If maybe by claiming this diagnosis as my own, that somehow I was doing something wrong. Or taking something away from someone else. However, I want to let you all in on a little secret.

If you're actively experiencing symptoms, you're not faking it.

You might label the symptoms wrong, yes, but that doesn't mean that they're not there. People get officially misdiagnosed all the time! Because a lot of medical things have a bunch of overarching symptoms that overlap! And you could have so many things going on all at once!

And sure. You're not a doctor. So you might miss something or assign too much importance to it, but that's fine! You're allowed to make mistakes!

Unless you are actively pushing a harmful narrative or making life harder for them, you are not taking anything away from those who are officially diagnosed.

Wear your headphones in public, ask your friend to lower the music, buy a shower chair and lie to the cashier telling them it's for your grandma, pick up a super fluffy stuffed animal just because the texture is calming, take a look at the cool little canes at the thrift shop, do whatever helps you.

There's enough headphones and shower chairs and weighted stuffed animals for the rest of us to enjoy. You're not wasting anything that you find useful. And also, sometimes your friends are just slightly deaf and used to feeling the bass shake their entire car. It's okay to tell them that you're not.

It's okay to ask for some help bringing your groceries out to the car.

It's okay to ask someone to repeat what they said a third time.

It's okay to ask if you can see something again to make sure that you understand.

It's okay to tell people you'd rather not be touched right now.

It's okay to tell people that you want to be touched after telling them previously not to!

It's okay! And this even goes for nondisabled people too! Please reblog this post, even if you have nothing to say or add. Because maybe then, it might find it's way to somebody else who needs it. Whether that be a friend or loved one, a beloved moot, a follower, or just some random homie who comes across it by chance.

Even if you just like the way things are said, or think that the words are nice, that's more than enough reason to throw this post on your blog.

So go for it.

Press the nice shiny button.

Be an ally.

I dare you.

Local PSA: invisible disability does NOT mean you can live your life like a "normal person" invisible disability meant that if a stranger looks at you in public they wouldn't know what's going on.

Like if a wheelchair user were to decide to run into a corner store to grab a candy bar because they know that their legs can last that long without, the cashier wouldn't know.

Or someone with "mild" scoliosis walking upright through their shoulder leans slightly to the left. Maybe they just have bad posture. The lady in the next isle thinks to herself.

The person with EDS or POTS or whatever sort of condition wearing compression gloves out and about. Perhaps it's a fashion statement?

Or what about the people with intestinal issues? They can look like "normal people" too.

You never know what someone is going through.

You never know what they might need to survive or if they're on the edge of a flare up or even if they are currently going through one just by one look.

I think both disabled and non disabled need to realize this. You're not "no longer disabled" because you can "live without" disability aids. They're there to help you. To make your life easier. If living without a cane is going to make it more likely you'll fall over and hurt yourself, use the cane.

If you need to sit down to do dishes or cut vegetables because you need to save your legs for taking out the trash, sit down.

If you need a shower chair because you don't know if you'll pass out, use the shower chair.

People are going to judge you regardless for multiple reasons out of your control.

I'd rather they judge you while you're being safe.

You don't need to struggle to be "normal."

You can just be you.

However that looks for you.

Use your disability aids.

[7ndipity]

“Just Breathe”

Yoongi x Reader

Summary: You're nervous about meeting Yoongi's parents for the first time

Warnings: angst/comfort, brief mentions of toxic family life, not proofread

A/N: Thanks to @vicky-chaos for this request! I hope you like it!

Masterlist

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

The late afternoon sun warmed your back as you walked down the street hand in hand with Yoongi, the familiar hum of street noise around you a welcome soundtrack that you hoped would distract from the anxious thoughts that had been filtering through your mind all day.

Normally you loved going on errand runs like these with Yoongi, finding comfort in the mundane routine, but today you had found yourself unable to relax fully and enjoy yourself, even now fidgeting with the handles of the shopping bags in your free hand.

Yoongi’s parents were coming to visit for the weekend, and he had asked if you wanted to help him cook dinner on the first night so that you could meet them. You had been touched that he wanted to introduce you to them at all and had agreed to the plan eagerly enough at first, but inside, there had been a growing tinge of “what if?”.

If this evening didn’t go well, you worried how it would affect you and Yoongi’s relationship going forward.

Yoongi had noticed your growing nerves and had tried to reassure you that things would be fine, even giving you a crash course on his parents' personalities and interests to help make you feel more confident and give you something to talk to them about.

“-And Dad likes reading, so just keep conversation focused around that if you can’t think of anything else.” He finished as you were headed back towards where he had parked the car.

“Right…” You replied distantly, chewing on your lip.

“It’ll be fine, don’t worry.” He assured you, squeezing your hand gently.

You nodded, but you couldn’t stop your heart still anxiously skittering around your ribcage, seeking out escape.

“Hey,” His tone was much softer now, drawing your attention back to him with a gentle touch on your cheek, letting his fingers just brush over your skin in the same way that he did as you fell asleep at night. “Just breathe, okay? Everything will be fine. They’re gonna love you.”

You hesitated for the briefest moment.

“What if they don’t?” Your asked quietly, breaking his heart at how small you sounded.

He knew his parents weren’t the easiest to get along with, especially his father, but he had faith that they would see what a beautiful and remarkable person you were. He couldn’t imagine anyone meeting you and not immediately falling for your warm heart and infectious personality.

But no matter how many times Yoongi tried to encourage and reassure you, your anxieties over what could possibly go wrong persisted.

He knew your fears weren’t entirely unfounded; it was no secret to him that the relationship between you and your own parents was difficult to say the least, leaving you with more than a few emotional scars that you were slowly trying to heal. But he was not so secretly hoping that this might be the start of a better relationship with parental figures for you, that you might start to view his family as your own. He just needed you to believe.

“If they don’t like you, then that’s their problem and they’ll have to get over it.” He told you matter-of-factly.

“Yoongi-” You started, but he stopped you.

“I mean it, if they know me and care about me at all, then they’ll make the effort to get along with the person I love.”

Your eyes shot up to meet his in shock, making him realize his accidental admission.

“You love me?” You asked.

“Yeah, of course I do.” He said, trying to ignore the creeping redness that he could feel coloring his face.

“It’s just-, you’ve never said that before.” You pointed out, still staring at him.

“I’ve felt it for a while, I’d just been trying to find the right time to say something.” He replied quietly, suddenly finding the pavement very interesting as he scratched at the back of his neck self-consciously. “And it’s no big deal, you don’t have to say anything ba-”

“I love you too.” You cut him off.

His head snapped back up, his dark eyes filled with cautious hope.

“Really?” 

You nodded. “I always have.”

Before you could blink, Yoongi closed the gap between you, crushing you to his chest in a hug that nearly knocked the wind out of you.

“I love you.” He mumbled into your hair. “I love you so fucking much, and nothing anyone says can ever change that. Not my parents, not anyone.”

Your eyes stung at his words, trying to fight back the sudden wave of emotions that threatened to overtake you.

“I love you too.” You managed, blinking away the wetness in your eyes.

It was moments like this that reminded you of just how thankful you were to have Yoongi in your life, always willing to make room for you, to protect you, to fight for you.

After a long moment, he pulled away enough to meet your eye again.

“We got this, yeah?” He asked. “We’ll be okay.”

You nodded, a small, genuine smile creeping across your face for the first time today.

“Lets go home.” He said, catching your hand in his again and giving it a slight squeeze.

The two of you walked on together in comfortable silence, savoring the feel of the shared warmth of your joined hands, keeping away the autumn chill that tried to chill your fingers.

Everything would be okay. So long as you had each other to hold onto, you could face anything.

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @feminympho @classicalelephant @dfqcsqueen @mother2monsters @comingupwithacoolnameishard @bo0ghol @universal-travel-er @k4ngelz

[murdrdocs]

INTERVIEW 030. KICK-ASS murdrtober 2024 remnants. sex machines

Really, you and Kick-Ass should have a handler. Maybe that would keep the two of you from getting into irresponsible, and frankly, odd, situations. Such as this one. 1k+ words MDNI 18+

God, this is so irresponsible. The two of you are irresponsible. 

You originally offered to team up with Kick Ass to watch each other’s backs and hold each other accountable. A team, albeit a small one, nothing comparable to Justice Forever.

No other superhero is as active as the two of you, and being alone was never a good look, especially for you. So you needed someone with you, someone strong and recognizable. Someone who sent a message to anyone who even had the idea to threaten you. 

Who better than Kick Ass? Plus, you thought he was reliable. Save for the brief stretch where everyone assumed he abandoned his patrols, Kick Ass had been a steady figure in the community, always there to help whoever needed it. In the idea you conjured up of him, he would be that sort of figure in private, too. Someone who would keep you from dicking around as soon as there was a lull on the streets. 

Someone who would keep your head straight on your shoulders. 

Unfortunately, Kick Ass seemed to be as much of a dumbass as you—possibly even more. 

“I mean … when else are you gonna have the opportunity to use something like this.”

And Kick Ass does have a point. The two of you already got what you came here for—a tiny harddrive tucked in your top that you know to have intel about the latest crime boss to terrorize your neighborhood. The penthouse is empty otherwise, and the owner shouldn’t be back for a while, considering she's serving time and all. 

You and Kick Ass have the place all to yourselves, but that shouldn’t matter. You should be leaving the way you came out, but as Kick Ass claims: where’s the fun in that?

“What’s it feel like?” 

You swallow a moan before attempting to respond, and even when you do, you speak methodically, trying to ward off the way your voice threatens to wobble. 

“It feels like I’m being fucked by a machine.”

Kick Ass scoffs. You watch him put his hands on his hips, the muscles in his back flexing. Has his suit shrunk in the wash, or is he just getting buffer by the day? Knowing Kick Ass, it could truly be either. His head turns to the side as if he’s about to turn around,  but he stops at the last minute, likely remembering that the one thing you had asked of him was to not look. 

“Well that’s not very descriptive.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, did you want me to—” Whatever snarky comeback you were going to throw at him embarrassingly dies before it can be completely born. You can’t help but let out this moan, and to make matters worse, it’s loud. 

Louder than the mechanical whirring of the machine working. Louder than the squelch of your cunt sucking up the silicone dildo attached at the end of the mechanism. 

You think you see Kick Ass physically shudder, but you can’t tell when you’re struggling to keep your eyes open. 

“Is it …” Kick Ass hesitates. He clears his throat and tries again. “Is it better than … you know … a guy?” 

You don’t say anything for a minute, too busy trying to balance focusing on the pleasure and attempting to figure out where to go from here. Eventually, you simply say, “Kick Ass?”

When he says, “Yeah,” his voice cracks, but neither of you acknowledge it. 

“You can turn around.”

You expected him to question your change of heart. Maybe ask if you were sure. But he doesn’t. He just turns around, the heavy thud of his Timberlands knocking against the hardwood floors one after the other. 

You watch his light eyes settle on your face at first, and then slowly crawl down until he’s watching the faux-cock slip in and out of you. His lips part, a voiceless word slipping past them and out into the air. 

You don’t have to tell him to come closer, he does that completely on his own. He kneels beside you, attentive eyes flickering back and forth between your spread legs and your eyes with a slight squint that leads you to believe he might need glasses.

Whatever barrier that existed between the two of you before has been completely broken down. You’ll never come back from this, so you might as well feed into it. 

When you tell him to kiss you, he doesn’t hesitate. His gloved hands hold your face in place as he practically assaults his mouth with his. It’s sloppy, uncoordinated, and so hot. You’re feeding him moans and he quickly swallows them. You’re sliding your tongue and tongue, mimicking the action of licking ice cream. At one point, you suck Kick Ass’ tongue into your mouth, and he whimpers like a girl. You think he might wet like one, too. 

Only one way to find out. 

When you pull away, unattractively heaving in breaths of air, you ask him, “Do you wanna fuck me instead? Help me see which is better?”

The pressure is definitely on for him, but he’s so eager with the way he slips his suit and Timberland’s off that you don’t think this could go wrong. And you’re so, so right. 

Kick Ass’ eagerness is as useful as it is attractive. You expected his thrusts to be strong and jack hammering, and for a second it is, until you tell him to slow down and then he has passion behind it. Grinding his cock into you, sending all of his length deeper and deeper and gliding his girth along the ridges of your walls. It’s so much better than the unforgiving pace of the machine, and you make sure he knows, too. 

Scratching his back, threading your fingers into the curls you’d never seen before today, wrapping your ankles around his back and pulling him as deep as you can get him. You don’t know what you expected, but he certainly exceeds your expectations. 

He does wet like a girl, too.

And he’s loud. So vocal as he sings praises about how good your cunt feels (your pussy, as he calls it), how thankful he is that you’re letting him do this, how he’s thought of this ever since the two of you teamed up for the first time.

“I know, Kick-Ass,” you tell him, minutely nodding as you dig your fingernails into the cushion beneath you. “I know. Me too.”

“Dave,” he corrects.

You tell him your name, and then not even a second later you’re moaning his name. He slumps forward, nestling his head into the crook of your neck. His hand comes to the top of your head, holding you to him as you wrap your arms around his shoulders.

“You close?”

You nod, your nose brushing against his shoulder as your breathing increases. “I’m so close, Dave.”

“Yeah? You gonna come?” Dave asks, and you can hear the smile when he says it.

You hit him, because you just said that, but all of the strength in your body is focused on getting you there so it’s nothing more than a weak punch that actually makes him laugh.

“Prove it to me,” he taunts, the competitive side to him that you're so used to coming out. “C’mon. Show me.”

[uniquethingtastemaker]

Ok, now that I’ve mentioned how I think both Vil and Riddle’s overblots could’ve been prevented, I also think Jamil’s could’ve as well.

If someone realized a little earlier in the chapter that Jamil had a problem with Kalim and he was up to something, then there was a real chance to prevent this situation from getting so out of hand.

If you told him, “hey, you know Kalim is dumb. If you don’t tell him you have a problem with him, he’s not gonna know. You got all the brain power out of the two of you. That being said, Kalim is a very empathetic and generous person. He cares about you. He think you’re his best friend. If you just told him how you feel and how you have a problem with some of his behaviors, then he would do everything to make your relationship work. He knows that he’s not the best dorm leader, but you’ve never told him that you felt that it was taken away from you. It might seem really obvious to you, but clearly nobody else has noticed, so there’s a problem. If you just told him, he would give you the seat. It’s not even like a possibility situation, he straight up would. He doesn’t care much about it, so if you do, he would give it to you in a heartbeat. He values your relationship above all else. It’s not that hard. I don’t know why you’re trying to do this in such convoluted way. It’s not efficient and really risky.”

I can’t imagine he wouldn’t take this advice. He’s not my favorite character, so I’m not sure, but he seems to value efficiency. It would make sense cause he’s always babysitting Kalim and having to run around.

He would bring up the whole family expectation problem, but there’s a counter to that too. “While it’s true that nobody in our vicinity knows the answer, somebody does. Kalim has the resources to get you that help and is more than willing. Get a professional. Go to a therapist. They’ll tell you how to navigate this situation. Why aren’t you taking advantage of Kalim’s resources? If you feel that you’re taking an unfair advantage of him, then make your relationship work with him. That’s something that’s going to be a challenge for you, but that’s what he wants. He has all the physical needs he could ever wish for, but the most important thing to him is his relationship with you.”

You would also have to bring up how to solve his feelings and problems with Kalim, because that was what has really been getting in the way and fostering his feelings of condescension. “You need to put boundaries on your relationship. He wouldn’t be offended and would understand. If you don’t want to be stuck in a servant role, you’re gonna have to set boundaries. Kalim is under the impression that you would tell him if something’s wrong even if that’s not how you feel. He doesn’t mind changing if it will help you. That’s enough of a motivation for him to push through hard times and overcome some of his weaknesses. Besides, the reason why he doesn’t know anything is cause you do everything for him. You’re enabling him. If you want to get out of this role, you’ll have to tell him some of the things you’re really worried about if you leave him. He would listen to you. He would do what you ask even if he doesn’t understand everything. That’s how much he trusts you. So, you might have teach him things you would have to watch out for like poisoning and assassination attempts, but he can learn. It would be a good idea to find someone who meets your standards in terms of a replacement to your job. Kalim isn’t that self sufficient, but you’ll be able to find somebody and would’ve already created a fail safe so that if something happens Kalim knows what to do.”

You would also have to address Jamil’s fear that if he becomes his own persona and drifts away from Kalim that he wouldn’t help and support him. Just tell him “Kalim thinks of you as family. You’re gonna always be important to him no matter how close or far apart you are. Kalim cares about you and loves you unconditionally. If you need his help, you’re gonna be his first priority. That’s never going to change. He’ll give you anything you ask for.”

I’ve stated my case and I’m sticking to it. Tell me what you think

[himluv]

Oops. My hand slipped. Here's more Lucanis and Spite.

Under the cut, because, well. Spoilers.

In the weeks since escaping the Ossuary, Lucanis had hardly slept. Partly to keep Spite from taking over his body, but also to avoid the dreams. He'd spent enough time in that prison, he didn't need to relive it in his sleep. So, he was awake to hear the dining hall door open and the pad of bare feet across the stone floor.

Rook. Spite said.

It was impossible to tell the hour in the Fade, but Lucanis knew everyone else was bunked down for the night. Even Bellara had eventually quieted down after tinkering with her archive for hours after dinner.

It was late.

Too late for Rook to be scrounging in the kitchen.

With a sigh, Lucanis stood from his cot and went to investigate. Sure enough, when he stepped out into the dining hall, he found Rook standing before the fireplace, a half-eaten piece of jerky in one hand. She stared into the flames, so lost in her thoughts that she hadn't heard his door swing open.

Lucanis watched her for a moment, indulging in the sight without fear of being caught. Mierda, she was gorgeous. The firelight gleamed in her violet-tinged eyes, her auburn hair shining in the flicker of flames. Not for the first time, Lucanis felt the urge to run his fingers through her hair, wondered what it might smell like if he buried his face into it.

Campfire and berries. Smoky sweet.

At that, Lucanis cleared his throat, rousing everyone from their various thoughts.

Rook startled, then gave him an apologetic look. "I'm sorry if I woke you."

He gave her wry look. "I never sleep."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Never?"

He shrugged and leaned one shoulder against the fireplace. "Not if I can help it."

She frowned at him. "Lucanis—"

"But," he continued, ignoring her disapproval. "You should definitely be sleeping."

She glared at him, a promise that they would talk about his insomnia at some point, then sighed. "I was asleep," she said. She ran a hand through her hair, a movement Lucanis could not look away from.

"Bad dreams?" He asked.

She nodded, her gaze back on the fire. "I keep seeing Minrathous." Her voice was barely more than a whisper, as if admitting it would conjure the memory right there in the dining hall. "And Neve," she added.

"Neve?"

She nodded, opened her mouth, then seemed to think better of whatever she was going to say. "It's nothing," she said. "A stupid, persistent dream."

"Rook—"

"It's fine, Lucanis." She glanced at him, gave him a half-hearted little smile that still managed to make his heart clench. "I'm fine."

In that moment, the distance between them felt wrong. Rook was hurting and everything in Lucanis wanted to comfort her. She was obviously not fine, but then, neither was he. What comfort could he possibly provide?

Broken, Spite whispered.

She must have read his silence as acceptance or, Maker forbid, dismissal, because she shook her head and sighed.

"Good night, Lucanis."

He frowned, knowing he should say something. Do something. He just could not figure out what. This was the longest they'd been alone together since their almost-kiss, and Lucanis was no closer to knowing what to do about his burgeoning feelings than he'd been then.

Coward, said Spite.

"Rook," he called as she reached the door.

The room was darker that far from the fire, and he could just make out the gleam of her elven eyes as she looked back at him.

"You take good care of this team," he said. "Just... Don't forget you're a part of it, too."

She stood there, watching him for a long moment, then nodded. "Thanks, Lucanis."

And then she was gone, back out into the courtyard and hopefully to her quarters to sleep. Lucanis was, again, alone with too many thoughts.

Smooth, Spite said.

Well, too many thoughts and an opinionated demon. That was as alone as Lucanis could get anymore.

He sighed and rubbed his face. "Coffee," he said. Coffee could fix anything.

Not anything. Not you. Broken.

"Perhaps," Lucanis said as he set to preparing a cup. "But, at least I will have coffee."

Spite growled, then mumbled, smells bad anyway.

"You're a terrible liar."

Spite roared and gnashed his teeth, then settled as Lucanis went through the familiar ritual of brewing coffee. Besides the bath, watching coffee brew was the best time to think. And he had plenty he needed to think about.

This demon, for one. Despite being surrounded by talented mages, not one seemed to understand his possession, let alone how to undo it. They told him that non-mage possessions were rare, but possible, so not so strange after all. What was strange was that, according to his new friends, he didn't seem all that possessed.

By all accounts, Lucanis should be dead, his body morphed and twisted to the demon's will. But, here they were, demon and man together in his body, neither of them in complete control.

The other experiments in the Ossuary all succumbed to their demons, becoming the abominations one would expect. But not Lucanis, even after a year of torture and torment.

Zara, Spite hissed.

Fury boiled up in Lucanis as Spite tried to take control. It was a now familiar feeling. A twinge of pain in the crook of his neck, a gathering tension at the base of his skull. If Spite kept pushing, eventually that fury would pound behind Lucanis's eyes, an incessant demand for control.

Now was not the time.

"We will find her," he said, voice soft and sure. He poured the fresh coffee into his preferred cup, a gift from Rook. "And when we do—"

Kill. KILL!

Lucanis sipped and hummed his pleasure, both at the taste and at the thought of sinking his dagger into that Venatori witch's heart.

Yessssssss. Soon!

On this, at least, he and the demon agreed. Zara's painful death could not come soon enough. Rook might be an uncomfortable question mark in his life, but his vengeance against Zara?

That was a guarantee.

With that comforting thought, and Spite temporarily appeased, Lucanis took his cup back to his cot and settled in to imagine all the ways he would hurt Zara Renata before he killed her.

[umgeorge]

The Pressure of the Podium: Interview With George Russell

While British success stories in Formula 1 tend to centre around Lewis Hamilton-as well they should; he's a legend-George Russell has quietly been making a serious name for himself. At a fresh-faced 26 years old, he’s one of the younger racers on the grid and, when we caught up with him ahead of the Hungarian Grand Prix back in the summer, was still revelling in the best season of his career. So, how was he finding the season so far? "Its been... I wouldn't say a rollercoaster, but it's been one that we've been climbing," says Russell. "At the start we were at the bottom of the mountain and been steadily getting closer to the top. There's so much excitement and motivation when you're on a team like this, like we have a visible return on everything we've been putting in, that momentum we've been building up."

We were talking shortly after his second F1 victory in Austria, which was a bit of a hairy one. After spending most of the race in third, still a respectable podium finish, Lando Norris and Max Verstappen ahead of him got a little too close to one another, crashing to take them both out the race. It was a far cry from Russell's incredibly convincing first win. But was there a difference to him? "Each win is incomparable. Every race is a completely different scenario. My first, in Brazil, was where I was ahead every lap. I'd done fantastically the day before and the pressure was there. Near the end I had Lewis on my tail and it was a relief to get across that finish line. In Austria I was happy to be in third, and then it all kicked off ahead and the opportunity arose. Every race is different and you never really know how it's going to go, even when you're behind the wheel." With that kind of uncertainty, it has to be hard to prepare yourself for racing at this level. There's the danger, of course, as that crash in Austria and a multitude of other times shows, but none of these guys would be racing if that put them off. Instead, we were more interested to find out if the pressure ever got to him - and, more importantly, what Russell did to cope with it.

"I'm a little obsessive. I try to make sure I've gone through all the preparation possible with my engineers, taken a look at last year's data, gone over the car, the weather conditions; anything I feel I need to be looking for. Once I've ticked them all off I'm at peace, mentally. I know I'm at my peak physical condition. I know every race is going to be tough. But there are nineteen other drivers and hopefully they'll find it tougher than I will. After that, what will happen, will happen. It's out of your control." With that huge amount of pressure every single week, the intense training regime to stay in that physical condition, and the sheer hectic nature of a globe-trotting racing competition, decompression seems like a necessity. Russell, though, seems to want to take decompressing very literally.

"I love being by the sea so I've started free diving, which is a bit of a random hobby, but when I'm out in the water I'm just so focused on my breathing, on being underwater, that I just disconnect from the world. Once beneath the sea, down there with the fish and coral, you're not thinking about anything else except having enough breath to get back to the top!" Russell isn't the only British racing legend around. We've had a long, illustrious line of champions of which Hamilton is only the latest and Russell could potentially be next. For Russell, there's something in the inspiration of champions of old, and having seven of the ten Formula 1 teams based in the UK helps. But for him, the key to British racing success is British racing's green grass roots.

"I remember racing with Lando and Alex, and alongside other racers who didn't make it to Formula 1 but have made professional racing careers. There's definitely something about the grass roots level here that works. But it needs to stay at that level. This isn't the most economical sport in the world, so we need to make sure that we can give kids that don't have the opportunity, otherwise, the funding they need to get behind the wheel and try go-karting." That said, go-karting is never going to be cheap for most would-be podium contenders, and whether it's that or sheer pace, it's an opportunity sadly few kids have. E-sports, on the other hand, is different. "Simulators have advanced so much now. The Formula 1 game is fantastic and there should be ways we can identify talent sooner, instead of just having financial backing to push you through the ranks."

Whether coming from the classic karting angle or from killing it online with photorealistic driving games, kids are going to need to have to contend with one of the most intensely competitive sports in the world - if not the most. According to Russell, though, they shouldn't be afraid of making mistakes; quite the opposite. "The one piece of advice that I try to embrace, myself, is: don’t be afraid to fail. The times I've failed have been the times I've progressed the most, the times I've really pushed my limits. It doesn't matter what you do; failure is necessary. It's how we grow, how we learn about ourselves. There's so much pressure not to let people down, especially with younger people, but you don't want to go through life never making a mistake or knowing where your ceiling is."

And any advice for those of us not thinking of a career in racing? Even shaving a few seconds off a track day would help for a few more bragging rights. "No matter what you're driving, stay relaxed. I've driven with people that have never been on a track before. They tense up, hunch over, and it makes everything erratic. Smooth is fast - smooth with the steering, throttle, and brake. It's not necessarily how we drive in Formula 1, but if you want to speed up on a track day, stay relaxed." Obviously, it’s not lost on Russell just how many kids and F1 fans alike look up to him as a sportsman. He's young, he's hungry, and his experience is starting to pay off. But for Russell, there are other sportspeople in other sports, and one in his own who I'm sure you can guess, that he looks up to.

"I have a huge amount of respect for Ronaldo. He's without a doubt the leader in his field. The same with Djokovic - they're fighters that push their physical performance. Then there's Lewis, obviously. He puts his platform to great use and I admire him for that as much as his wins and what he's doing off the track. I hope to be one of those leaders in years to come." Now he may well get a chance as Lewis will, in 2025, be moving from Mercedes, as Russell's teammate, over to Ferrari. It's a bold move, but on the other hand it means that Russell will soon be able to race his former teammate as an actual rival. Will that be weird? "He'll be wearing a different suit, but I'll still recognise him! We're at different stages in our career, but we have massive respect for one another. For now, I'll see him on the track."

[screams-in-writing]

Fluff snippets again *yeets pillows at Mr. Puzzles with aggressive affection*

I’ve found I really like to write these, so here’s three more of them (1st is more of a one-shot):

16- needing their cuddles even though they have something else to do (1st pov)

I was about to break my promise to not drag Smg4 (or his crew) into another wonderfully wacky Puzzlevision adventure.

But oh, was I so very, very tempted to do it and face the consequences, but I held back such urges, knowing that such actions would more than likely ruin any progress I had made thus far. Any non-consenting participants in a show in my mind would surely not only upset you a great deal but would also destroy the tentative peace I’d made with Smg4 in particular. 

I knew I was on thin ice, and that everything I did was scrutinized with great prejudice. 

It chaffed, but I knew that such over the top precautions were a direct result of my previous actions, direct or by proxy. 

But one thing that I did not take well to was being told my ideas or plans were terrible and/or unoriginal. It took a lot of self-control I didn’t always have to be able to prevent myself from instantly lashing out in return. 

Calm. 

I had to be calm. 

I couldn’t let this latest…disagreement force me to break my promises. 

With great reluctance, I tuned back in to Smg4’s words as he lambasted me for the changes I’d made late last night to an episode script that, in my opinion, desperately needed it. 

Smg4 should be thanking me!

Why, I took time out of my day to help him when I didn’t have to! 

I was an expert on moving pictures! 

Why wouldn’t he value such feedback from one such as me, to help his ‘funny’ reach a wider audience!

…perhaps it shouldn’t have been made so last minute but I’d not heard of it being made until last night!

“I never told you that you could just change my episode plans!”

“Smg4?” At that, I finally cut in as smooth as could be. Seeing the unamused glare, I straighten by bow tie, acting as if I hadn’t just been practically scolded for the past ten minutes. “I believe that I made your episode’s script flow better for everyone involved. If it hadn’t been clear that those changes were needed, I wouldn’t have even bothered.”

“I also never gave you permission to even look at my episode scripts!” Smg4 shot back in exasperation. “What made to think you could just go on my office to snoop around in the first place?”

I was again distracted from listening to Smg4 when I saw that you, Boopkins and Tari gad just entered the castle. 

There. 

My possible escape from making another mistake that would more than likely ruin any credibility I had left, as well as completely shatter the minimal trust I’d since gained with Smg4 and his crew. 

With a swift motion, I ran away from Smg4 and  swooped in on you for a hug the moment the castle doors shut. 

“Whoa!” You laughed at my sudden, rather desperate need for a hug from you, and laughed even more as I was quick to bring you down to the floor with me. “Hello to you too.”

I wrapped my arms around you and even tangled our legs together, making my intention to begin an impromptu snuggling session right here on the floor in full view of anyone clear.

“Oh no you don’t!” Smg4 stomped over, waving the papers in his hand, exasperated. “Fix this script right now! Put it back to the way it was.”

“No.” I said simply in return, pressing my face into your shoulder to enjoy the static buildup from your clothing. “I refuse to get rid of an obvious improvement that you just refuse to see! It’s art! How can you not see that?”

Smg4 began to toss random items at me while Boopkins and Tari made themselves scarce to avoid getting drawn into the drama. 

How rude. 

Smg4 had to have seen that you were down on the floor with me, but seemed focused on getting me to ‘unfix’ his episode script. 

I covered you with my body to prevent anything from hitting you. In return, things bounced off the back of my head and upper back, to which I grumbled crossly at. It didn’t so much hurt as it was an irritant (and the flying projectiles did mean possible harm to you if I allowed anything to pass.

However, it had merely been a distraction as the arisen assault of pillows and other items gave way to Smg4 speaking in an eerily calm tone. 

“Mario, Mr. Puzzles took out the plate of spaghetti in an upcoming script and won’t change it back.”

The words made me freeze in place while you paused, then gave me what felt like a ‘sympathetic’ pat on the back.

Oh no.

“Give me back my spaghetti tv man!” Mario came out of nowhere to seize me by the ankles. 

I automatically clung to you in an effort to avoid being taken from you. But it was a useless endeavor with Mario involved, and you picking up on what was going on, which led you to letting go of me after patiently prying my arms off from the panicked hug I’d had you in. There was a brief look of betrayal on my face before it flickered into one of pleading desperation as I scrabbled my fingers into the floor beneath me uselessly. 

“Did Smg4 ask you to make changes to my script?” You asked, making some gesture at Mario to (somehow) make him pause his efforts in dragging me backward. 

“It needed the changes.” I said stiffly. Seeing your expectant expression, my digital eyes looked off to the side, technicolor smile a frown. “No, he didn’t ask.”

“Puzzles? Do you remember what we talked about last week?” You questioned curiously. 

“I…yes.” There wasn’t any way to defend myself in this situation because I did recall what you were hinting at. “Yes, I do.”

“You promised that you’d not make any changes to other people’s scripts without running it by that person first.” You told me, clarifying the specific conversation we’d had, as there had been more than one important one held.

“I recall.” I agreed, though I didn’t say aloud that I believed I could have gotten away with such an action in this case. If only Smg4 could just be made to see that I was very good at what I did, and that he could benefit from me collaborating with him. Or at the very least, allowed me to make tiny changes here and there to make things flow better, in order to offset the stupidity that might end up happening. Not seeing any way out, I fixed you with the most pathetic, despairing digital face I could manage.

“Oh, such cruel fate.” I mournfully began before I said your name. “How can you sit there and allow this to happen to me? I thought you said you loved me.” I lamented as dramatically as I could, while I clung to the open door to prolong my exit. “Farewell, my dear. I forgive you for leaving me to a fate I brought upon myself. Remember me fondly when you watch television or a movie, as I fear I may not survive this terrible soon-to-be act of being forced into undoing all my beautifully done and very much necessary handiwork.” 

I made certain to keep my screen facing you in order to let you knew I was merely teasing, and not attempting to make you feel guilty in any way, shape or form. 

It seemed you understood when I peeked over to you. 

“It’s not going to take all day, Mr. Puzzles. It’s just an episode script. Not a movie.” Smg4 shoved one of Puzzles’ gloved hands off of the open office door. That would be a much bigger problem and-“ 

“About that…” I shoot a guilty look your way, and drop my gaze at your disappointment. “I may have…done an overhaul to the entire thing?” I shrink behind the open door, forgetting Mario still held me by the ankles. I partially closed the door myself at the blank look on Smg4’s expression as he slowly took out his phone and made a call while continuing to stare at me. 

Before I knew it, I had Mario dragging me back across the floor of the main area of the castle to its front doors, which had just opened. 

Smg3 was waiting there, looking disgruntled at being called away from his cafe, until he laid eyes on me and my pathetic attempts to scramble away. 

“What’s this all about, scrub?” Smg3 asked, somewhat dismissively, despite the eager look in his red eyes. “You finally kicking out the tv freak?”

Smg4 emerged from his office to wordlessly hold out a larger stack of papers.   

“What?” Smg3 scoffed at the lack of words but took the paper to look it over anyway. Then a little quicker as his expression went from feigned disinterest to exasperation as he glanced down at me. “Are you stupid?”

“Maybe more misguided.” You called from where you’d moved to peer out the doors as Mario just tugged me outside. 

I eagerly perked up at your defense of me, until you spoke again. 

“But if that’s a movie script and he made a lot of changes? Maybe foolish optimism.”

“Why do you betray me so?” I said your name in a dramatic fashion as I dug my fingers into the ground to try to prevent the inevitable. 

“You asked me for advice and you decided to not follow it.” You rightfully pointed out. 

I hung my head, unable to argue the point while I was dragged across the showgrounds to 3’s cafe to ‘fix’ my own changes to an episode script and a whole movie.

17- resting head in their lap (2nd pov)

After an exciting day, you were ready to wind down for the night. 

With a tired groan, you crashed hard on the sofa in the house you shared with Mr. Puzzles at the edge of the showgrounds. 

It wasn’t an hour later that Puzzles returned home too, presumably done with his own work for the day. 

The tv headed man paused alongside the sofa to lean over, a soft smile on his screen. He lightly ran his fingers through your hair with a barely audible greeting, before he reluctantly stepped away for a short time. 

The bedroom, most likely. 

When Mr. Puzzles reentered the living room, you find that your guess is right. The man had come back with a change of clothes; soft, rather sleek and elegant pants and an even softer-looking sweater.

You stared at him, then sleepily reached out with your arms, making grabby-hands at the tv headed man, whose face flickered to an amused, if still soft, expression.

You only realized Mr. Puzzles’ plan when he approached the sofa and held your stretched out arms by forearms to help you to sit upright. When you stared in a confused manner, Puzzles’ technicolor smile grew. Humming softly, he sat down on the sofa before he lowered you carefully down to settle your head on his lap. 

You were a-okay with this plan, sighing happily  as Mr. Puzzles as he began to gently thread his fingers through your hair and along your scalp. 

The sensation of his fingers felt different today. 

You belatedly realize that Puzzles had taken his gloves off at some point, likely when he’s gone to change clothes. 

It was nice. 

You liked the touch of his robotic fingers scritching along your head and through hair with soft metallic-sounding clicks. 

Maybe he needed to oil up the joints? Could Mr. Puzzles even do that with the covering he had over those robotic fingers? Had you just never heard the sound his fingers made with the gloves off?

Or maybe you were sleepier than you realized. 

You definitely were quick to snuggle closer to wrap your right arm around Mr Puzzles’ lower back. This way, you could press your face into the tv headed man’s belly, feeling it quiver with silent mirth.

But Mr. Puzzles didn’t say anything. He only chuckled lowly in presumable endearment of the sight of you as he resumed to pet  through your hair. After a time, he moved on to your shoulders, slid his fingers down your upper back to middle, then repeated the gesture, each gentle motion of his hand drawing you closer to slumber. 

“Pleasant dreams, my dear.” Mr. Puzzles’ petting eventually slowed to a halt to lightly rest his hand against the back of your neck. “I’ll be here when you wake.”

18- leaning against them (2nd pov)

You were very pleased to be able to be able to have a whole entire week of vacation time, and Mr. Puzzles had been beyond delighted .that you were going to spend six of the seven days in his word. 

But the delight finished a little, as you’d had to make certain Puzzles understood that, while you planned to spend the majority of that time with him, you did have other plans in mind. 

Namely, exploring more of the world than just the showgrounds. 

This meant that, for some of the time you spent here, you’d be traveling with Smg1 and 2, for safety reasons. 

Smg3 & 4 could have helped, but, to put it politely, those two butt heads with one another at poor times, and it wouldn’t do for you to be in sudden danger and they didn’t notice until it was too late. 

Which was why, even if you weren’t exactly ‘spending time’ with. Mr Puzzles, you knew that he was going to more than likely follow at a distance. 

You don’t blame him for the worry. 

There was a reason you chose 1 and 2 as help, as once, a while back, you’d been hurt in this world before, and it had been clearly traumatic for him; you…actually didn’t recall to much of it, since it seemed your memory of the incident cut out when the accident occurred until you woke up and wondered why Puzzles was beside himself (almost hysterical) while a few others of Smg4’s group looked terribly upset. You felt that you’d have to ask at some point what exactly had happened…

“Hello.” Mr. Puzzles voice called out to you, breaking you out of your musings. The tv headed man joined you on the patio, and stood before where you were seated on the patio swing he’d found some time ago. “Fancy seeing you here, my delightful partner.” The tv headed man’s voice held a happy lilt as Puzzles leaned over, grasping one of your hands to hold up as he pressed the lower part of his screen to it. After leaving a lingering static zap of a kiss, Mr. Puzzles let go of your hand to sit down alongside you, his right leg bumping into your left. “Does this visit of yours perhaps include staying with me overnight a few times?”

“Hi.” You press into his side, feeling him happily wrap his right arm around your shoulders, while he to traced a few fingers down your arm to your elbow.  “I don’t know, what did I tell you over the phone?” A low chuckle, but no response, so you continued on. “Do you want to join me and Mario on an adventure in the middle of the night? Maybe we can go look for the watermelon man?” You asked in a joking manner, seizing Mr. Puzzles’ left hand with yours as his right twitched on your upper arm overthe plumber’s name.

“My dear…” Puzzles began, a low guttural dip in his voice as he leaned his head over to your level. But whatever he was about to say was cut off when you suddenly pressed the side of your head affectionately to his casing.

“Of course I’m going to stay overnight with my boyfriend.” You told him, sholding Mr. Puzzles’ hand tight while he turned his tv head to enthusiastically nuzzle you in return. 

“No leaving the window open.” Puzzles sighed, briefly halting his affections to let out a theatrical shudder, no doubt thinking of past incidents.

“No open windows.” You emphasize in agreement, giving his gloved hand a sympathetic squeeze as Mr. Puzzles resumed nuzzling your head. 

Neither of you wanted to wake up to Mario just…standing there again in your shared bedroom, just staring at the two of you sleeping, only for the Italian to BLJ out of there to avoid Mr. Puzzles lunging after him with incensed and scandalized noise. 

It had happened before. 

You secretly happened to have a short video sent to you by Mario of said incident, and saved it so that you could relieve it. 

Mario was weird, but he seemed to be invested in helping you compile photos and video clips of Mr. Puzzles (and yourself), which you were actually really happy to have with you when you couldn’t see the tv headed man for a longer period of time. 

[cuntressgoingdigital]

i am here with some abby x depressed! reader content

once again, entirely self indulgent. i am in the biggest rut rn, but this was kinda cathartic. i cried while writing it actually.

free palestine! click this link for more info + dono links

abby’s a lot softer and empathetic than people give her credit for, especially with you. she can always tell when you’re having a rough day. she knows to only ask what’s bothering you once, knowing that sometimes you didn’t have the words to explain yourself. sometimes you didn’t even know. she would always ask

“do you want company or alone time?” 

today was one of those days. you couldn’t get out of bed, cocooned in all the blankets on the bed. you knew isaac would have your head if you shirked your assignment for the day. not even that could inspire you to move from your spot on the stiff uncomfortable mattress. when abby came to check on you at sunrise and caught you still in bed, she immediately jumped into caretaker mode. 

she sat at the foot of your bed and rubbed the outline of your thigh through the layers of blankets. 

“you okay? feeling sick?”

you shook your head, feeling too embarrassed to make eye contact. you couldn’t fathom how abby got up every day to suffer through patrol, run isaac’s errands, and still have the energy to hangout with her friends at the end of the day. just getting out of bed every day was an arduous task for you. isaac preached about family values and insisted that everyone had an important role on base, no matter how big or small. it felt like you were failing everyone. 

even worse, you felt like a burden on abby. you never got on quite well with her friends, feeling extremely out of place every time you all got together. some days you could push through the feeling, but these past couple days it has been entirely out of the question. you felt awful tearing her away from them to tend to you on top of everything else she was tasked with. 

“what assignment did you get today? my to-do list is pretty light, so i can get it done if you need me to.” 

abby always insisted you were allowed to ask for her help, but it made the weight on your chest even heavier. 

“just inventory in the armory. it has to be done before lunch.” with a stifled sigh, you sat upright in your bed. “i can probably–”

“don’t worry about it. i’ve got it.”

finally, you gathered the courage to look her in the eyes. her eyes never held the look of pity others gave you. the sweet smile on her face made tears well in your eyes. before you could stop them a few tears fell. using the back of your sleeve you hurried to wipe your face. a few soft apologies fell from your lips before abby reached out and took your hand, giving it a squeeze. 

“i promise, it’s fine. i wouldn’t offer if i didn’t want to. let me do this for you.”

it felt like she could read your mind. she understood you even when you struggled to parse through your feelings and form a coherent sentence.

 you sniffled and nodded. “thank you. for everything.” 

she cradled you in her arms and let you sob for a few minutes in complete silence. her hand gently rubbed your back while the sobs racked through your body. when you finally calmed down she pressed a kiss on the top of your head. 

“i love you. more than anything in the world.” those whispered words almost inspired more tears.

“i love you, too. i love you more, actually.”

she snickered. “not possible.”

abby stood and stretched, the wet patch of tears along the neck and shoulder of her shirt clung to her skin. “i’ll bring you back something from the cafeteria. i think it’s oatmeal and granola day.”

she gave you one last kiss before turning on her heel and leaving your room. 

[fanfics4all]

Crossing Paths

Request: Yes / No Hey I was wondering could you write for Luke Alvez where y/n is Hotch’s daughter and she was like 17 when the show started and the team loves her and she’s kind of like a mini Spencer and wanted to be just like her dad and when she was old enough she went to work in Afghanistan and when she’s there she meets Luke and they fall in love but then she gets transferred and they know if they’ll see each other again and all Luke has of her is a Polaroid picture he took of her that he carries with him. She gets back to the BAU in season 11. When Luke starts working there she is injured from a previous case so she’s not in to see him straight away so when she comes in and the team introduces her to Luke she acts like they were just friends in Afghanistan ( not wanting to announce in front of everyone and her dad) but when they are alone it’s a very heartfelt reunion and very fluffy @sxphia-g

Don’t be shy, request things! <3 Have a nice day/night

Luke Alvez x Fem!Hotchner!Reader 

Word count: 1493

Warnings: Nothing I think

Y/N: Your Name 

PLEASE DO NOT STEAL MY WORK, I WORK HARD ON MY FICS AND IT’S NOT COOL TO STEAL SOMEONE ELSE’S WORK! 

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(Not my photo, credit to whoever made it!)

*Luke’s POV*

I had many expectations when stepping into the BAU, but seeing her again was not one of them. I wasn’t sure I’d ever see her again, not after we were separated in Afghanistan. Her transfer tore us apart and all I had left was a single Polaroid as a reminder. I kept the photo close, folded it carefully, and tucked it into my wallet as if I would bridge the distance between us. But here she was, just as I remembered, maybe a little different. She looked a little worn from the line of work we both knew all too well. 

When the team introduced her as ‘Hotch’s daughter’, I kept my expression as neutral as possible. My heart was racing to see her in person again. She nodded politely at me, a slight smile tugging at the corner of her lips as if we were nothing more than people meeting for the first time. 

“Alvez, nice to meet you.” She said with a lightness I recognized. It was the same one she used in Afghanistan when they couldn’t be anything but professional. 

I couldn’t help but be impressed. She was brilliant, just like her Father and Reid, a natural in the world of profiling and deduction. The team adored her, and from what I could tell, she was every bit as committed to the work as I remembered. But we weren’t on just professional terms back then, and the reality of it hit me hard when I caught her gaze from across the room. Her eyes softened for just a second like she wanted to reach out and hold me. 

After what felt like an eternity, we finally found ourselves alone in one of the small rooms of the office. The door clicked shut and for a moment, neither of us spoke. We just took each other in after so much time apart. 

“Luke…” She whispered, her voice barely above a whispered. It was like no time had passed. I crossed the space between us in a heartbeat, pulling her close. My hands rested on her shoulders, I was afraid to let go. 

“God, I thought I’d lost you for good.” I whispered, my voice thick. I looked down at her, trying to take in every detail as if I could memorize her all over again. She was different, but somehow the exact same. She had the same spark in her eyes, the same quiet strength that had captivated me back in Afghanistan. 

“I missed you.” She admitted softly, her hand coming up to brush my cheek. The professionalism we held up during our reintroduction faded away, leaving only the tenderness we hadn’t been able to share until now. We stayed like this for a moment, lost in each other, both realizing how much we held onto the hope of this reunion. A reunion we never thought would come. I wrapped my arms around her, holding her close as she rested her head against my chest. We stood in silence, feeling the steady rhythm of each other’s heartbeats. It was a quiet reminder that we were both finally together again. After a few moments, she pulled back, looking up at me with that familiar glint in her eyes that I’d fallen for so long ago. 

“Did you keep it?” She whispered, but I knew exactly what she was asking. I reached into my pocket, pulled out my wallet, and carefully unfolded the worn Polaroid. Her face in the picture was younger and carefree, her smile wide and bright as she laughed at something I said before snapping the picture. I remembered that day so clearly, the warmth of the sun, the laughter that filled the air, and the unspoken promise between us. 

“Every day. It got me through some rough times.” I whispered, holding it up so she could see. Her eyes softened and she reached out, brushing her fingers over the image before looking up at me. There was a hint of sadness mixing with the joy in her expression. 

“I didn’t know if I’d ever see you again. I tried not to get my hopes up.” I felt my chest tighten. 

“You don’t have to hope anymore. We’re here now. We’re back.” We both fell silent, sharing a tender look, knowing we’d have to navigate this new reality cautiously. 

There was the team to think of, Hotch to think of, and we weren’t the same people we were back then. There was a lot more on the line now, but somehow, standing here with her in my arms, I didn’t feel like any of it mattered. 

Just then, the door cracked open and JJ poked her head in, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. 

“Hey, Hotch wants to debrief on the last case. You two ready?” We exchanged a quick look, our shared secret settling into a comfortable place. 

“Yep, on our way.” She replied smoothly, pulling away with a professionalism that almost made me chuckle. There was a small, knowing smile she sent my way, one that promised we’d pick up where we left off as soon as we had a moment. I watched her walk out, the weight of the photo in my pocket felt a little lighter, and followed her out of the room. 

As the weeks went by, Y/N and I sipped into a rhythm, balancing work with the unspoken bond we shared. It wasn’t easy. We kept things low-key, but every time our eyes met across the bullpen, every time we passed each other in the halls, there was a spark that ran deeper than words. 

One late night, after the rest of the team had gone home, I stayed behind, working on case files. I thought I was alone until I heard a soft knock on the door and looked up to see her leaning against the frame. She had that familiar, mischievous smile on her face. 

“Burning the midnight oil?” She teased, slipping into the dimly lit office. I chuckled, dropping my pen. 

“Could say the same for you. What’re you still doing here?” 

“Oh, you know…” She shrugged, coming closer. 

“Couldn’t sleep, thought maybe some company would help.” She took a seat next to me and we slipped into comfortable conversation. Memories from Afghanistan waving into stories from recent cases. Being around her felt so natural like no time had passed at all. Eventually, the conversation slowed, leaving only the soft glow of the lamp illuminating our faces. She looked up at me, her expression vulnerable, her voice soft as she spoke. 

“Luke… sometimes I wonder if we’d still feel like this, even if we hadn’t been through so much back then. It’s hard to explain, but it’s like I can’t let go of that version of us, you know?” I reached out, taking her hand gently in mine. 

“Afghanistan brought us together, yeah, but what I feel… it’s so much more than that. We’re not just some memory for me. This…” I lifted her hand, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. 

“...This is real.” She held my gaze, the weight of my words settling between us. It was something we both needed to hear. Afghanistan had been intense, but what we had not was grounding, rooted in shared dreams and hard work. We stayed like that, the quiet comfort of each other’s presence enough to fill the room. But then she tensed, a small frown creasing her brow. I noticed instantly, my thumb brushing over her hand. 

“What’s wrong?” She took a deep breath, her gaze dropping to our hands. 

“It’s just… my Dad. He’s protective. I don’t know how he’d react to this, to us. He’s always been supportive, but when it comes to me, he’s got blind spots. And you know, you’re not just any guy, you’re a part of his unit now, too.” I nodded, understanding her concerns. Hotch wasn’t just her Father, he was my superior and a man whose respect meant the world to me. We both knew this wasn’t going to be easy, but my grip on her hand tightened. It was a quiet reassurance that I was ready to face whatever came our way. 

“I’ll talk to him. When the time is right. He deserves to hear it from me. But you gotta know, nothing, no one, could make me walk away from you. Not after everything we’ve been through.” I said firmly. She looked at me, her eyes shining with gratitude and love. Leaning in, she brushed a soft kiss to my lips, one that held all the promises we didn’t need to say out loud. 

“I love you, Luke.” She whispered, her voice full of all the warmth and strength I’d come to know so well. My heart swelled and I pulled her close, pressing my forehead to hers. 

“I love you too, Y/N, and we’ll figure this out together. One step at a time.”

Tag list: @les-bio-lie @tashy-bear @ashwarren32 @hollie-blogs-blog1 @lover-of-books-and-tea @nerdygaloresposts @teenwolfbitches28 @kmc1989 @drw0301bieber @lady-of-lies @ravenmoore14 @ravenempress101 @cillianchamp @rowanthomasknapp @rachelxwayne @ready-4-fanfiction @madammarvellous-blog1 @pettyjayy @bruisedfists-and-splitlips @answer-the-sirens @andreasworlsboring101 @liz-owl

[qiu-yan]

the schrodinger's sect thing you bring up is really interesting, because imo it's the result of the jiang cheng haters trying to simultaneously two separate and often contradictory systems of values to roast jiang cheng.

western culture, at least, tends to follow at least these two separate systems of values:

the system of values that centers compassion, kindness, humility, and caring; ie. values typically associated with christianity.

the system of values that centers strength, accomplishment, independence, pride, and nobility; ie. values typically associated with ancient rome.

(nietzsche goes off to kind of an insane end about these, but this really isn't the place to discuss master and slave morality.)

now, these two systems of values are different. there are a lot of situations in which they can overlap and/or in which having virtues from one system will also bring you virtues from the other system, but there are just as many cases where traits one system classifies as virtues are instead classified by the other system as vices - cases where it is impossible to be "virtuous" under both systems.

and from what i've seen, jiang cheng haters often end up saying seemingly contradictory things because they simultaneously employ both systems of values to roast jiang cheng - even when it makes little sense to do so because, as stated above, these are two different systems of values that do not always align.

some common jiang cheng fandom roasts, categorized by me:

"jiang cheng is selfish," "jiang cheng only cares about his own reputation," "jiang cheng doesn't understand reciprocity or the concept of repaying debts," "jiang cheng is spiteful and hateful and unfair," "jiang cheng could have easily had yunmeng jiang help the wen remnants, he just didn't want to because he's a hater," etc.

"no one respects jiang cheng (and he deserves it)," "jiang cheng didn't accomplish anything," "wei wuxian's golden core was 80 years more advanced than jiang cheng's," "yunmeng jiang's success is due to wei wuxian, not jiang cheng," "jiang cheng is an inferior/mid-tier cultivator at best," etc.

a pattern emerges: jiang cheng is #Evil and his #Evil has the capacity to hurt others (ie. wei wuxian, no one else matters lol); therefore, jiang cheng must be at least somewhat capable of materializing his decisions into reality. however, wei wuxian is also supposed to The Best There Ever Was and the fandom's specialest little boy, so jiang cheng also cannot be more competent than wei wuxian. in fact, the more incompetent he is, the better, because incompetent people are Easy To Roast and the real purpose of this exercise is to bash jiang cheng. jiang cheng has to be evil so we can bash his moral character, but not so evil that wei wuxian caring about him and protecting him starts to cast shade upon wei wuxian's moral character. jiang cheng has to be incompetent so we can bash his failures, but not so incompetent such that he becomes unable to effectively act on his evil.

now, let's look at how these claims might contradict each other.

consider the claim "no one respects jiang cheng (and he deserves it)" in conjunction with the claim "jiang cheng could have easily had yunmeng jiang help the wen remnants, he just didn't want to because he's a hater." the latter is the single most common criticism of jiang cheng. the former is a hot take i saw a few months ago as a potential explanation as to why everyone seems to call jiang cheng by his birth name and not his courtesy name.

think about it: MDZS repeatedly establishes that how capable you are of protecting yourself and your people, as well as how willing others are to hear you out, is directly correlated with how much respect you command from your peers and from society; furthermore, "respect" flows from political power: if you are powerful and people recognize you as powerful (two things that may be considered synonymous, given that the existence of political power is made possible in part by popular consensus of its existence), then people will naturally afford you more respect, even if purely to serve their own ends. therefore, if no one respects jiang cheng, then jiang cheng cannot be said to have a lot of political power. if jiang cheng does not have a lot of political power, then - given that the faction wei wuxian pissed off with his actions is incredibly powerful - jiang cheng as a political leader does not have the ability to take in and protect the wen remnants from lanling jin. therefore, if no one respects jiang cheng, then jiang cheng could not in fact have easily stood by wei wuxian's side; these two claims cannot simultaneously be true.

imo, the people who try to argue at once that jiang cheng is evil and that jiang cheng is weak/incompetent do so less because they understand his character or even because they're trying to analyze this piece of media, and moreso because they've already made up their minds that This Guy Sucks Actually and are therefore trying to slap every negative adjective in the book onto him. in the same way that many of the same people will argue that "[trait A]=good, wei wuxian=good, therefore wei wuxian has [trait A]," these people will blithely argue that "[trait B]=bad, jiang cheng=bad, therefore jiang cheng has [trait B]" - all without realizing that, in the pursuit of their #canon haterade, they've merrily meandered off the path of canon and basic logic and into the territory of pure bullshit. this instinct to assign every bad trait under the sun to jiang cheng is also what i suspect drives people to call him, a character who does not seek romantic and/or sexual connections with women anytime onscreen, an incel. seriously, guys, words mean things.

sorry to go off on your post, op, especially about a largely unrelated topic. "Schrödinger's sect" was just a really good way to describe an irritating fandom phenomenon i've observed for a while.

Since I'm being jumped by JC antis for pointing out their double standards, let’s dissect the debts owed by Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian, shall we?

Wei Wuxian's Debt to the Jiang Clan:

Wei Wuxian’s debt to the Jiang Clan is immense by ancient Chinese standards. He was saved, taken in, raised, and trained by them, essentially given a new life and a future as a cultivator. In traditional chinese culture, this kind of debt would require a lifetime of loyalty and service to repay. However, Wei Wuxian chose to protect the Wen Remnants, a decision driven by his personal moral beliefs and sense of justice, effectively putting his principles over his obligations to the Jiang Clan. This choice made it impossible for him to repay his debt in the way ancient values would have dictated, as he directly went against Jiang Cheng's leadership and the interests of the Jiang Clan.

Jiang Cheng's Debt to the Wen Siblings:

Jiang Cheng’s debt to Wen Qing and Wen Ning is also significant—they saved his life and ensured his parents' bodies were returned with dignity. The expected repayment from him would traditionally involve some form of reciprocal protection or aid, such as offering them sanctuary, advocating for their safety, or using his influence to speak on their behalf. However, as the new leader of the Jiang Clan struggling to rebuild after the Sunshot Campaign, his first duty was to his own clan's survival. Repaying this personal debt to the Wen siblings would have required protecting the Wen Remnants, which would have risked his clan's stability and political standing. In the end, his obligations as a sect leader took priority.

The Double Standard:

So here’s the issue, antis love to criticize Jiang Cheng for not sacrificing everything to repay the Wen siblings, judging him by the standard of traditional cultural values. But when it comes to Wei Wuxian, they switch to a modern standard claiming "children aren’t expected to repay their caretakers," to dismiss his debt to the Jiang Clan. If we’re judging both characters by the same standard of "repaying debts," the fact is, both made choices based on their circumstances. Jiang Cheng prioritized his clan's survival, and Wei Wuxian chose his moral beliefs. To condemn one while excusing the other is just hypocritical.

[talesgolden]

Drew's homemade version of rehab also means he is a homemade version of "sober". He does still drink and smoke weed, but has iron clad limits on both (including not mixing them/being crossfaded), and won't touch anything else. He is not working "the program" and does not attend NA (or AA) meetings.

Alcohol has never been a problem for him. He keeps his limit firm anyway so that it doesn't become one. As well, he's cut back on smoking -both varieties of it- in no small part for the sake of his daughter. Viv does a bit of baking™ though, I think.

[puppyeared]

Why are ppl scared to call it what it is and say we’re still going thru covid on top of seasonal illness. Like. That’s pretty important right. I was watching the news and they were like oh yeah we have an unprecedented number of flu cases “as well as other sicknesses” without actually saying Covid. No announcement abt vaccinations or masking or anything. Also if I hear someone joking abt “war flashbacks” for mentioning covid I fucking hate u

[girlthativealwaysbeen]

i think growing up is just life repeatedly sucker punching you and saying bitch you thought things were gonna better lmao no you're so naive and stupid for having hope in 20 years the world will be flaming bag of garbage and no matter how hard you work you'll get eliminated at some point

[nerdyfangirlingbooks]

I've had a stupid merlin au idea stuck in my head for days now and I know I'll never get around to writing it the way I want it written but I kinda wanna try anyway even though I am 100% of the target audience

[crossbackpoke-check]

about to be sooo nosy so. my apologies. but. morgan frost? girlfriend? do share (or don’t! again this is so nosy i’m sorry)

for legal purposes i can neither confirm nor deny anything about morgan and his girlfriend but afaik i think he’s single right now? at one point (within the past four years 😭) he did for sure have a girlfriend and that is the extent of my wag knowledge

[guhhhhhhhhhhh]

I have to put fresh sheets on my bed and make it but I've just been sitting on my bare mattress for the last 20 mins ranting to myself about this damn show