#Training and Courses in Europe

[drvclinic]

DRV Clinic by Razvan Vasilas Academy: Master the Art of Aesthetic Medicine

DRV Clinic by Razvan Vasilas Academy is the premier destination for mastering aesthetic medicine. Our comprehensive masterclasses equip medical professionals with the skills and knowledge to deliver safe and effective treatments. Join us to learn the latest techniques and elevate your practice.

[askshivanulegacy]

You are not OWED pets. It doesn't matter what your life circumstance is. Your pet is utterly dependant on you to provide for it and keep it safe. If you don't have the time, space, funds, or environment to do well by it then you cannot have a pet.

Having a pet is about the pet. It isn't about you.

you tell a bitch to keep their cat indoors and suddenly their town is the first in the world to have eradicated every viral, bacterial and parasitic disease, they invented completely harmless cars, dogs and predators dont exist either but somehow the native songbird population is fine since the cats in this place have lost the hunting instinct, there's no pollutants or toxic plants and human cruelty has ceased to exist. and mr mittens has a chip in his brain that will explode if he doesnt go outside 10 hours of the day

[abroadstudiesoutlook]

Abroad Studies Outlook is one of the leading overseas education consultants offering international study programs as well as IELTS coaching, German language training in Thrissur. We assist the aspiring students for finding suitable diploma, degree, PG, Masters programs in Canada, Germany, France, Dubai, UK, Singapore. We guide students throughout their study abroad process like counselling, admission, visa, travel, accommodation arrangements and relocation.

[eduwisor123]

Central University of Europe (CUE) – Indian MD Student a prestigious European institution offering globally recognized medical programs. Indian MD students gain world-class education, advanced clinical training, and multicultural exposure, preparing them for successful medical careers. CUE combines rigorous academics, research opportunities, and international accreditation, making it a top choice for aspiring doctors.

[pxlpanic]

lil rant in the tags

will delete later jsbdjs

ps. didnt know there were max 30 tags wow

[suenitos]

would you ever like to meet your online friends? :3

yeah man. of course.. i have a lot of issues with being perceived irl but i think noww i'd just push through it if the chance ever came >_<

[bet-on-me-13]

Bruce owes Danny money. He does Not want to pay up.

So! Danny had to run away from Amity Park when his parents discovered his Powers. But every time he tried to stay in a single place in America, they somehow managed to find him.

Turns out, they were working with the GIW to track him using the GIW's resources and the Fenton's Genius to find him everywhere he ran to. Eventually, Danny figured he had had enough and ran to Europe where the GIW had no Jurisdiction.

After wandering for a while, Danny was found and recruited by the League of Assasins. He was powerful, skilled, and connected to the Lazarus Pits, so they approached him with a job offer.

They would hide him from the Fentons, who had began to search for him in Europe independently, and in return he would work for them as an Assasin.

Considering his situation, Danny agreed.

He began training to be an Assasin, supplementing his Ghost Abilities with the abilities of an Assasin to become even more Stealthy.

While training under the League, Danny met another recruit simply known as Bruce. They trained together for years, even going on a few missions together gathering intel, and using disguises to hid in plain sight.

On one of these missions, Danny lent Bruce some money with the promise to get paid back when they returned to the League. That same night, Bruce left the League of Assasins and never came back.

...

Bruce was sitting in the Batcave going over a case with Tim, Jason was off to the side cleaning his Guns, and Dick and Cass were holding an acrobatics competition in their Obstacle Course, with Damien, Steph, and Duke cheering them on.

Suddenly an Eldritch Emerald Light sprang to life in the center of the Batcave, and everybody dropped what they were doing and sprang to action.

Slowly, a glowing green figure emerged from the Light. He appeared Eldritch in Nature, as if he existed in multiple layers of reality at once and looking at him gave them minor headaches. Then, the figure spoke up.

"BRUCE. ITS BEEN 15 YEARS. YOU STILL OWE ME 16 DOLLARS."

Recognizing Danny, Bruce took a moment to compose himself before responding.

"Fuck Off."

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

i have asked this before on a different page and i CANNOT get an answer but can someone pls explain how porn addiction isn’t real??

like we had someone during sex ed in school bring it up as a topic and explain that (primarily a penis haver) you can train your brain to only be able to get hard/cum to porn and not be able to with a real person… and like sex addiction is real? but porn addiction is not? r there people just using “porn addiction” as a reason to ban porn all together and demonize it? like is that why?

i’m sorry if this comes across ignorant in any way. i am genuinely asking and open minded about this. if u take the time to answer thank you!! 🙏🏻

hi anon,

so it's actually helpful, and interesting, that you mention sex addiction, because that's also on pretty shaky ground as an actual thing that can be meaningfully diagnosed. which isn't to say that no one in the world exhibits maladaptive sexual behaviors, of course, but whether those behaviors can be accurately characterized as addictions is actively debated. in many cases what's casually described as "sex addiction" (which includes the use of pornography) would more accurately be classified as compulsive sexual behavior disorder, or CSBD, which has much more in common with obsessive compulsive disorder than addiction. to my knowledge, CSBD is rarely treated as a primary diagnoses, but rather part of a larger pattern of compulsive behavioral issues.

put this way: in many cases, saying that someone is a "sex addict" is sort of like saying someone with OCD is "addicted to washing their hands," in that it's misrepresenting a symptom as the primary issue and misunderstanding the cause of the behavior to boot.

now, talking about CSBD gives us a great segue into something that I think is really important when discussing the validity of porn addiction, which I'll lead into with this quote:

In their study, Grubbs, et al., analyzed data from about 15 different studies by varied researchers (and reviewed many more), comprising nearly 7,000 different participants. Studies were conducted in-person and online, in the United States and Europe. The team found that, first, religiousness was a strong, clear predictor of moral incongruence regarding porn use. This is important, as it indicates that we can and should use a person’s religiousness as an indicator of the likelihood of moral conflict over porn use. Not all people who are morally opposed to porn are religious, but it appears that religiosity captures the majority of people who feel this way. Given that the WHO and ICD-11 recommend an exclusion of moral conflict over sex from the diagnosis of Compulsive Sexual Behavior Disorder, this finding suggests that when diagnosing CSBD, a person’s religiousness is a critically important factor.

put more simply: high levels of religious guilt contribute to so much self-reported "porn addiction" that it can make it hard to figure out who's experiencing actual, verifiable compulsive behavioral issues.

this quote comes from an article called "Science Stopped Believing In Porn Addiction. You Should, Too," in which the author argues that porn addiction is essentially an outmoded understanding of problematic consumption of pornography that's failing to take into account other factors, in this case the moral incongruence or sense of conflict that many people feel about viewing pornography that causes them to feel shameful, dirty, or "out of control" when the use it. it can be read here:

porn addiction is problematic as a classification for other reasons as well; Dr. Devon price elaborates very neatly on many of them here:

again, I don't point out any of this to argue that no one ever has a relationship to sex or pornography that's detrimental to them and their ability to function, only that branding that as addiction is a.) inaccurate b.) unhelpful and c.) deeply loaded in a culture that so often stigmatizes addiction as a matter of weakness and poor character rather than recognizing it for what it actually is. many people grow up in a cultural context that profoundly stigmatizes sexuality, which makes a lot of people worry that they're aberrant and dangerous for doing anything that brings them sexual pleasure. trust me, my own inbox is a testament to that; I spend an enormous amount of time reassuring people that they're allowed to partake in utterly benign sexual behavior.

your example of people training themselves to only get off with porn is actually a great example here. the simple truth is that it's possible for people to train themselves into all kinds of sexual behaviors whether porn is involved or not, because if you only get off one way then your brain and body will simply learn to associate that particular type of stimuli with sexual pleasure and have a more difficult time with anything else.

people with clits who have spent a lot of time getting off by putting a vibrator smack on their clitoris benefit hugely from taking breaks and varying their masturbation style, especially since human partners are rarely able to provide the same type of stimuli as a toy. folks who are accustomed to only getting off in one position, whether it's on their back or humping a pillow or whatever else, can struggle with orgasming in other other position. people who have spent years masturbating before having partnered sex for the first time often find that it's a difficult adjustment—and I can attest to that one personally, because I had trouble for YEARS finishing with partners and almost always had to touch myself to make it happen. you can't even accuse porn of being responsible for that, because I've never particularly enjoyed watching porn and can probably count on one hand the number of times I've used it to get off.

to your final question about whether people are just claiming the existence of porn addiction as a reason to ban it—absolutely yes, many are. if you dig a little beneath the surface you'll find very quickly that many of the most vocal and well-funded anti-porn groups are run by deeply conservative religious groups and other far right wingnuts who stand to benefit tremendously if they can a.) ban porn and then b.) define "porn" as "anything that includes any kind of depiction of sexuality that I personally think is yucky." you see this deployed frequently with challenges to books in schools and libraries and subsequent book banning, which frequently target books about sex education, books featuring information about sexual abuse, and LGBTQ+ books of all stripes as "pornographic."

tl;dr I'm certainly not arguing that nobody on earth has a bad relationship with porn, but I do think the words we use to talk about that are important and porn addiction is a largely unhelpful way to do so.

[benditlikebuddhayogaalgarve]

Unwind, Uplift, and Unfold: Your Guide to Yoga Teacher Training in Portugal

Unwind, Uplift, and Unfold: Your Guide to Yoga Teacher Training in Portugal by L. Farrah Furtado Portugal, Europe’s sun-kissed retreat, offers not just pastel-colored villages and spicy piri-piri but also an enclave for yogic wisdom. If the idea of training as a yoga teacher in this Iberian paradise stirs your soul, you’re in luck. We’ve woven together a tapestry of Portugal’s most acclaimed…

[inky-duchess]

Fantasy Guide to Early 20th Century Trains

Trains were a popular means of transportation during the early 20th century. The previous decades saw to the explosion of more trains, more services and more tracks linking country communities which were isolated from cities and larger towns. So what do we need to know about trains in the early 20th century?

Typical layout

A basic layout of a train is as follows: passenger compartments, dining cars, luggage and guard vans.

Compartments: Compartments are where the passengers sat. They were divided between three classes – first, second, third. First class compartments were the most expensive. The seats were upholstered, and the floors were often carpeted. They were much larger than the other class compartments. They would be fitted with gas light like the rest of the train, the windows would have curtains, and the walls would often be panelled with wood. Second class compartments were less luxurious but pretty much the same as the first class only smaller and less grand. Third class would feature wooden benches or seats fitted with cushions or fabric, they were smaller and often more crowded. Compartments could be offered as corridor compartments which offered more movement between compartments and cars. Compartments would offer seating areas and areas to store hand luggage. Some trains travelling overnight would offer sleeper cars which offered beds and an area to wash.

Dining Cars: Dining cars were offered on some trains. There would be tables for the passengers to eat and get something to drink. Dining cars were usually offered only to certain classes or segregated by class.

Luggage Cars: Where large luggage would be stored.

Guard Vans: Where railway security staff could get warm. It also held a stove and hand-operated brakes which the designated guard would use to slow the train if needed.

Separation

Trains in this era were divided by class and in some case race. Unlike the American states and South Africa where there were laws preventing certain races from mixing with others or from using any class other than third class, Europe was a little more forgiving in the case of race. However, this is not to say there was no segregation. This was Europe at the height of the age of Empire. People who hailed from the ‘colonies’ were discriminated through subtler means than simple prevention, they would be discouraged from attempting to use the upper class tickets and sometimes they were even treated not as well as other passengers. Class was the main division on the train. First class of course had more ability to move, more access to amenities. They often had separate dining cars where they could sit down to full meals. Larger trains might even offer some other common areas such as smoking compartments. Second class were sometimes permitted to dine in the dining cars but may not have been allowed access to full meals. Third class was not permitted access to the dining cars, often having to bring along meals or buy food at the station before departure. The classes were not allowed to mingle. In cases of a first-class person travelling with a servant, they had the choice to either purchase a first-class ticket for their servant or leave them in third class.

Train and Station Staff

Trains did not run by themselves. The passengers and the train had many needs and there had to be an army of staff available to keep things chugging along *hehe*. That being said, the train staff weren’t the only people who kept things going smoothly, the station staff at each stop would also help out the staff and the passengers.

On the Train:

Drivers: These were the people who drove the train.

Firemen: These were the people who shovelled coal and kept an eye on the steam pressure.

Guards: The guards were there to keep the passengers safe. They sometimes checked tickets and would patrol the luggage cars, mainly to keep an out for anybody sneaking onto the trains without a ticket.

Conductors: Conductors would go from car to car to check tickets, collected any outstanding fares and kept an eye on things in the compartments.

Engineers: Would travel on the train to help out with repairs on the train.

Dining car staff: Such as maids to serve tea and coffee, waiters to serve food and if the train is large enough, kitchen staff and bartenders.

The Station:

Station Masters: Was the person in charge of the station, overseeing the flow of trains and passengers through the station.

Porters: Handled the luggage.

Signalmen: Oversaw the signals to keep the trains on track *hehe*.

Parts of the train

The train is a beast of many parts. A train in this era is a steam train, which links of cars connected together behind a steam engine.

Buffers & Buffing Gear: These are the parts of the train built in to absorb impact.

Cars: The segments of the train.

Couplers: This is what connects the train cars together.

Cowcatcher/Pilot: This is the frame that sits at the very front of the train used to clear things off the track.

Carriages: These are the cars that the passenger compartments are.

Headlamp: This is the light at the front used to improve visibility.

Freight Cars: Used for transporting goods.

Locomotive: This is the train’s engine. It is the driving force of the train, where the driver and the firemen would work.

Truck: The framework that connects the axles to the wheels.

Smokebox: Where the exhaust system of the stream engine is housed.

[anandamyogaschool]

Certified Instructor | 50-Hour Yoga Nidra Teacher Training in Europe

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[phoenixyfriend]

Okay so we have like. An unusually high ratio of royalty/nobility among the Jedi. Dooku, Quinlan, Oppo, you can sort of count Adi or Xanatos or Bruck, etc. Lots of Jedi 'just happen' to come from royal, noble, or incredibly wealthy/powerful families.

So from this I want to posit four things:

If a royal family has a Force-Sensitive child, and hasn't had one in generations, they may think that sending that child to the Jedi would be a little like sending a child to join the Catholic Church in the middle ages: you get to influence the political choices of the highest religious power in Europe the Galactic Republic Government. (That said, Dooku was sent to the Jedi because his parents didn't want him and ||left him to die of exposure, basically, so that if the Jedi arrived too late they'd be picking up a baby corpse|| because they were so disdainful of Force-Sensitive individuals, and Quinlan wasn't sent to the Jedi so much as he escaped to them.)

They are all incredibly wrong about this, and royals raised as Jedi generally do not give any more of a shit about their home planets than any other planet. They care, of course, but they are not attached, because they are Jedi. Xanatos was an exception (afaik his dad sent him to the Jedi because he wanted to do the Catholic thing? and then Xanatos lost his mind). (Don't correct me on this, it's not really important if it was actually intended or not.)

This is achieved by way of Jedi from royal backgrounds having a mandatory high-level political class on how to handle royal court politics and general intrigue. It's not exclusive to the royal kids, but it is a prerequisite for them. They usually end up doing their home planets as case studies for capstone projects, in part because

Sometimes the planets try to call their errant royals back. It might be because the planet is struggling and genuinely running out of heirs/needs a change in leadership (Serreno) and it might be because it was the plan all along, but on the off chance that the Jedi decides they HAVE to leave the Order and take up a throne to keep an entire planet from kind of imploding on itself... that royal Jedi has to be ready to play the game. OR if they don't actually think they're REALLY needed there, they have to be trained on how to go, and be polite/avoid getting trapped/play the game until they can get the hell out of there, while also installing that cousin that nobody thought was strong enough but DOES understand how to run the treasury as the new king.

I'm just imagining this like. Very specific set of classes that are open to any Jedi that's taken the necessary prereqs, but is mandatory for people like Quinlan and Dooku and Oppo.

This was inspired by a post of mine that's getting circulated regarding QuinObi stuff and my thoughts about how Quinlan might have needed preventative training in case of political upheavals trying to pull him back to his home planet. I want to mess with the Politics Classes that Quinlan is taking because he has to and Obi-Wan is taking because Qui-Gon said he should.

Qui-Gon: You should take this class because I'm training you up as a negotiator and diplomat, and you will need it to interact with people when brokering trade deals or peace treaties. Tholme: You are taking this class because your aunt is insane and you have to be ready in case she tries to pull you back into the bullshit.

And as @firebirdeternal offered:

Quinlan: God this is the worst. So boring. At least Obi-Wan is stuck here too. Obi-wan: This is fascinating wow, I can't believe I almost didn't get to attend, Quinlan is so lucky he's automatically in these classes.

[yumeka-sxf]

Today's new chapter is the second part of the previous one where Anya is "getting acquainted with" her new classmates. And while I didn't find the last chapter to be all that good, I was cracking up in this one, mostly from Anya's hilarious expressions and antics...girl, don't ever change 😂

I especially love how we see her taking after Yor here 😅

And here!

Of course, she learned from the best about how lying is wrong 😆

Anya in people's imaginations is...something 😂

Girl is slowly building a harem too 🤣 Damian better get it together or they're gonna whisk her away!

Jokes aside, I wonder if Freddy and Tertius (Connie as well) will become more prominent characters, or just stay minor Eden characters like George and Bill. When Tertius was introduced last chapter, I thought his royal origin would somehow tie back to the theories of Anya having roots in royalty due to her knack for classical languages, but now I feel like Endo made Tertius a prince simply for the gags in this arc. I mean, the series is supposed to take place in a fictional version of Europe in the 1960s-70s, but Tertius' homeland looks like it's straight out of the medieval ages, lol. But the fact that Endo bothered to give his kingdom a name does make it seem like it could be important later 👀 We'll see.

By the way, the man seen training Tertius is the one he referred to as 爺や/じいや ("jiiya") in the last chapter, which the English version strangely translated as "Jeeves." As I mentioned before, it's an old term used to refer to an elderly male servant, so I can sort of see why the translators used the generic butler name "Jeeves," but it doesn't make sense when that's already the name of Damian's butler. The fact that this time the English version translated it as "steward" makes it even more confusing!

Anyway, like in many SxF chapters, this one ended with ambiguity about whether the arc will continue next time. With the revelation of Anya having more male friends, I see an opportunity for Damian to try to talk to her, and maybe the mind-reading confession will get brought up again. Lots of good stuff to look forward to!

[eduwisor123]

Central University of Europe MBBS Student Support - Eduwisor provides dedicated support for MBBS students at Central University of Europe, offering academic guidance, visa assistance, accommodation help, and career counseling. Ensuring a smooth educational journey, Eduwisor helps international students excel in their medical studies with personalized mentorship and reliable resources.

[historicity-was-already-taken]

I’ve been seeing a lot of what I’m going to term “Judenrat Behavior” from American Jewish organizations and individuals over the last week and a half; I am speaking, of course, as a member of the American Jewish community.

The Judenrat were councils of highly respected Jewish individuals the Nazis set up as governing parties in the Jewish ghettos of Poland, Lithuania, and the Western USSR.

They were expected to carry out any and all German orders regarding the Jews, while they simultaneously sought to protect their communities from those orders as much as possible.

Comprised of highly educated, respected men, when the kashariyot (the female functionaries I refer to in my book title as “the girl bandits”) started showing up with evidence of mass murders of Jews in the territories Germany occupied in the summer of 1941, the Judenrat were not having it.

When the male leaders of the organized Jewish youth argued that the evidence needed to be taken seriously, the Judenrat were still not having it. They refused to believe that “this” could happen right in the “middle of Europe,” in the middle of the "civilized world."

Therefore, went the Judenrat's thinking, these young women and men were nothing more than dangerous, hysterical provocateurs. The evidence was right in front of them, and the Jewish Councils refused to accept the reality of the fact that the Germans were carefully, deliberately, and methodically massacring the Jews of Eastern Europe.

We often conflate the Jewish Councils with the Jewish camp guards and ghetto police. I don’t think that’s fair; with the exception of Chaim Rumkowski, the Councils were comprised of individuals who simply couldn’t conceive of This happening in the world they thought they understood.

They weren’t the collaborators the ghettos saw them as. They weren’t putting their parents in deportation trains. They weren’t informing on other Jews. They were just people incapable of, and ultimately, unwilling to see what they were living through for what it was.

Today, we all have the benefit of these histories to learn from. Denying what we see, what we hear, what government officials say won’t get us anywhere, besides maybe dead.

Right now they’re coming for the Latin American and trans communities. And we can’t just all sit back and reenact Martin Niemöller's "First they came for..." We just can't.

[tikitakatia]

Fixer Upper — A. Putellas x Reader

"Not My Circus, Still My Monkey"

WC: 1.5k

Summary: A few missed calls, one goat in the locker room, and somehow, you're the one writing apology emails to management.

You wake up to twelve missed calls, three texts, and a voice note from Alexia that just says:

“Hola cariño… There's a goat in the locker room. And I think it’s mad at me.”

You don't scream. You don't even sigh. You just lie there for a moment, staring at the ceiling, the phone pressed to your face, trying to piece together which specific life choices led to you dating one of Spain's most decorated footballers, and also the human equivalent of a disaster waiting to happen.

You call her back.

“Please tell me that was some weird metaphor,” you say, rubbing your eyes.

“Nope!” she replies cheerfully, popping the p. “It’s literal. He even has the little horns and everything.”

By the time you get to the training facility, the goat has made itself disturbingly comfortable. It’s in the locker room, snacking on a protein bar wrapper. Irene is crouched next to it, looking like she’s been babysitting a toddler with questionable decision-making skills.

You walk in, half-expecting the usual football drama, but instead, you're greeted by this. The goat. The snacks. The unsettling calm. Alexia is sitting on the bench, completely unfazed, wearing joggers and a sports bra as if a goat’s presence is just another part of her everyday life.

“You named it?” you ask, eyeing the hastily written “KIKO” on a piece of paper taped to the goat’s side.

Alexia shrugs, completely casual. “Felt rude not to.”

“Kiko’s got trauma,” you deadpan, narrowing your eyes. “I can see it in his eyes.”

“He bit Patri,” Alexia adds with the sort of nonchalance that only someone who’s caused an incident could muster.

Patri, sitting across the room with a frozen peas bag in her hand, offers a thumbs-up. 

“Deserved.”

You close your eyes briefly. You really, really should have stayed in bed today.

“Walk me through this. Slowly,” you mutter.

Apparently, last night’s evening training ended with Alexia “rescuing” the goat from a farm nearby. Why, you ask. Well, the poor thing was outside in a field, “looking lonely and sad” according to the blonde, and she just couldn’t leave him there. He was apparently “baa-ing pathetically” and needed a change of scenery and some friends. So naturally, she decided to bring him to the Barça training grounds. Farm field, football field. Po-tay-to, po-tah-to.

Pere walked in, took one look at the goat, sighed heavily and rolled his eyes. Without a single word to the team, he turned on his heel and walked straight out, muttering that practice was delayed until “this problem” had been resolved. That’s where the logic train derailed entirely. Now, you’re left standing in the locker room, trying to process how one of Europe's top football clubs has devolved into a petting zoo.

You can’t just call animal services. No, that would be too easy. First, you have to grill Alexia about where she found Kiko.

“Where did you get him?” you ask, arms crossed, eyeing the goat like it’s about to burst into flames.

“I... I can’t tell you,” Alexia says, looking extremely protective of the goat, as though she personally gave birth to it.

“Why? What’s the big secret?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s a farm... a private farm,” she says, her eyes shifting as if she’s trying to avoid your gaze. 

“And I think he could be the club mascot.”

You stare at her for a moment, blinking. This is the point in the conversation where your brain asks if you should be worried about the state of your life choices. Of course, you don’t even bother asking if she’s serious. She is.

And that’s how you end up spending the next half hour chasing down the farm’s owner, trying to figure out where in the world this goat came from. You finally reach a very upset farmer, who sounds more like he’s about to implode than help.

“I don’t know who let that goat leave,” the farmer grumbles, his voice frantic. “He’s my favorite goat, I was worried sick! Do you have any idea how long I’ve been looking for him? You can’t just take a goat like that! What kind of asshole steals a goat?! I'm calling the cops on you!”

You swallow hard. There’s no way you’re dealing with a police situation over a goat. Not today.

“Wait, no, please don’t call the cops,” you say, trying not to sound like you're begging, but let’s be honest, you really are. “Look, I’ll send you some tickets to the next game, good seats. VIP treatment. The best we’ve got. And I’ll... I’ll take care of the whole thing. Just don’t... don’t call the police. Please.”

The farmer pauses, his tone wavering slightly. After some back-and-forth that involves you discussing what exactly the VIP experience entails (and throwing in some team memorabilia for good measure), the farmer reluctantly agrees. “Fine. But you make sure he’s brought back to the farm, you hear me? I don’t want him roaming around anymore.”

You let out a sigh of relief and hang up. One crisis averted. Or so you think.

You turn to Alexia, who’s standing in the corner, casually sipping her water like she didn’t just steal a farm animal and bring it into the team’s locker room.

“I got him, okay?” you say, trying to keep your cool. “The goat’s going home. But you need to tell me where exactly you found him. Now.”

Alexia just grins at you, clearly enjoying the chaos. “Maybe it’s better if we keep this our little secret,” she says, winking.

You want to say something sharp. You want to remind her that you're the one who’s been dealing with this whole mess while she’s been acting like it’s all some sort of adventure. But you don’t. Instead, you turn back to your phone to draft yet another email, this time to the club’s management, explaining the situation and the implications for the field.

Typing with all the formal professionalism you can muster, you write: “My client regrets the goat-related disturbance.” You then go on to clarify that Kiko’s “enthusiasm for grass” has “disrupted the quality of the pitch’s surface” and caused the field to be “unearthed” in places. You make sure to mention that Kiko is, unfortunately, not a “FIFA-approved emotional support animal.”

Alexia reads your email, then looks up at you. You half-expect her to apologize, maybe at least offer a hint of regret. But no, of course not.

Instead, she grins. “Why’d you call me your client?”

You blink, trying to keep your cool, but the day's gone too far off the rails for any semblance of composure. “Because I’m trying really hard not to call you my problem.”

Her grin widens, clearly enjoying every second of your escalating stress. She steps closer, and you immediately feel the gravitational pull of her unshakable confidence, like she’s defying the very laws of nature and casually bending your sanity in half.

“I am though.” she says, her voice smug, teasing, and so completely certain of itself that it radiates from her. She’s practically in your face now, daring you to say anything, her confidence as palpable as a weight in the room.

You sigh again, not because you don’t want to kiss her (you do), but because you know exactly where this is heading. And, frankly, you’re not sure if your fragile sanity can handle any more right now.

“Unfortunately,” you mutter, voice flat.

She presses her lips to yours quickly. Just a soft, affectionate kiss, as though this isn’t the third crisis you’ve had to sort before your first coffee. You let her, of course. You always let her.

When she pulls back, she tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, her grin growing wider. It’s the kind of grin that says, “I know exactly what I’ve just done to you, and I’m not sorry in the slightest.”

“Oh, by the way..” she adds, casually, as if she’s just reminding you of the time you accidentally threw your keys in the garbage. “Kiko peed on your laptop bag.”

You freeze, staring at her, your brain still struggling to process the fact that you've gone from a relatively normal morning to this. Your mouth opens and closes, but all you can manage is a sound that’s somewhere between a sigh and a small, defeated groan.

Her grin widens like she’s just told you the funniest joke in history. “It’s just a little pee,” she says, as though it’s a perfectly reasonable thing to add to your already ruined day. “What’s the big deal?”

You rub your temples, wondering how much more of this you can take. 

“I love you..” she says with a tiny, embarrassed chuckle. Clearly pleased with herself, and yet somehow still acting like she’s the victim in this scenario.

You blink, mind still racing as you try to find something to hold on to. 

“I love Beta blockers,” you reply with a tone dry as dust. At this point, you can’t think of a better way to cope with this absurdity.

Just when you think you’ve reached the limit, Alexia, without skipping a beat, drops her final bombshell. 

“Mi amor,” she says, “when are we getting Kiko a jersey? You know, for the team?”

You don’t even look at her, your voice flat. “I’ll get right on that.”

She grins and gives you a chaste kiss on the forehead, clearly pleased.

“You’re the best.”

You resist the urge to scream.