#advocate for more couples that make each other laugh

[thesweetnessofspring]

One of my favorite things about Everlark is how they make each other smile and laugh a lot. While Gale says he never sees Katniss smile outside of the woods, Peeta is making Katniss smile and laugh on the train, in the Capitol, in the arena. They're joking with each other even as either or both of them could die soon, lightening the situation they're in. That is love right there.

[percheduphere]

I'm kinda curious, especially since a lot of people have very different views on this: How do you think Loki and Mobius would be in an actual, official, romantic relationship? I kinda think they would keep doing what they're doing but I don't really know what level of romantic stuff they would do. They're already pretty physically affectionate, but would they do that in public since both of 'em are pretty secretive about their normal emotion? They compliment each other but would they use things like honey and dear in a serious way? Etc. So...How do you think this time couple would be like?

I adore this ask because all my headcanons about Loki and Mobius being in an established relationship are SOFT. The best part is, canon supports this.

While I do agree that Loki and Mobius's dynamic will continue the way it has been, I also think a certain level of emotional intensity will be brought into the mix, increasing their general chemistry in front of others ten-fold. The banter, the idea spit-balling, the lack of personal space, the smiles, laughs, and long gazes ... imagine all of that dialed up. Loki loves as hard as he hates and is a hedonistic show off. Mobius has loved Loki since Day 1 and repressed his feelings for long enough. Are they really going to be reserved around each other once they're securely in a relationship?

No! They will be the most sickeningly lovey-dovey couple in the MCU.

WORDS OF AFFIRMATION

S1 had Mobius advocating for and complimenting Loki in private and in front of others. S2 had Loki reciprocating. It is not hard to imagine them becoming fiercely protective of one another on and off the field. Cross one, the other is crossed. They are a two-package deal, and both are vicious when it comes to wielding words on behalf of the other's dignity.

As for terms of endearment, I can imagine Loki calling Mobius "Darling" on spare, particularly emotional occasions. Mobius, on the other hand, still has Don in him. "Sweetheart" and "Honey" are very in-character pet names he would use. Both reserve usage of these names in private as Loki hates blushing in front of others, though Mobius has a tendency to slip when he's multitasking at work.

PHYSICAL TOUCH

The hug in S1E5 seems to have opened the door for physical affection come S2E1. Loki and Mobius (especially Mobius) touch one another with affection, attentiveness, and protectiveness on instinct. Despite not being romantically involved in S2, they move around one another the way two lovers in a small kitchen might. Once in a relationship, they will continue to do this but certain gestures will hold more meaning, in particular: holding hands.

One of Mobius's first gestures of kindness, which Loki initial rejected, was a handshake in S1E1.

The second time Mobius offers his hand, Loki takes it and uses Mobius's compassion as an opportunity to steal the time twister from his pocket.

Mobius offers another handshake in S1E5, which Loki declines in favor of a heartfelt embrace that he extends to Mobius and Mobius happily accepts.

Physically (and symbolically), Loki and Mobius's relationship was founded on Mobius extending a hand and Loki refusing it, betraying it, and finally taking it. I therefore see them holding hands regularly, every day, because holding onto one another is grounding, comforting, and reminds them of these earlier moments in their relationship that they've overcome together.

As these two are not shy about tight embraces in public, I doubt either would feel shy about chaste kisses either. They are so in-sync and adoring of another that it goes without saying that when they have sex, they make love passionately. They communicate with touching just as much as words, so heteronormative "bottom and top" designations are thrown out the window and into the dumpster (where they belong). How they have sex conveys how they feel about one another in that specific moment.

PDA

Among others, I can see them being nauseatingly sweet. We already know what bystanders look like when they tease and bicker with one another:

And make no mistake that Loki would up the dramatics with PDA just to gross Thor out. Thor making a "barfing gesture" cracks Loki up every time, and Mobius, resigned, goes along with it because who doesn't want to get peppered with kisses?

QUALITY TIME

I haven't seen anyone point this out yet, but it's hilarious to me that S2E3 starts in broad daylight and cuts to evening by the time Loki and Mobius stroll out with cracker jacks in their hands.

Loki looks a little annoyed but he is going along with it for Mobius's sake. Sightseeing at the World's Fair makes Mobius happy, and whatever makes Mobius happy, Loki will indulge even if he's not interested. Like that key lime pie he didn't eat.

If this is their relationship when it's platonic, then be ready for Mobius to take date night very seriously.

Dinner and a night at the opera? Naturally.

Eating pastries and drinking coffee while people-watching in Paris? Absolutely.

Biking side-by-side along the Dutch Coastal Route in the Netherlands? Of course!

Mobius will take care of all the planning and Loki will enjoy sharing new experiences together. On (frequent) occasion, Mobius will surprise Loki by choosing an activity he knows Loki will enjoy, such as visiting an ancient library or perusing fine clothes at a bazaar.

Point being, these two have always enjoyed each other's company and have fun together. In a relationship, they will actively take time out of their schedule to bond more purposefully!

ACTS OF SERVICE

Both Loki and Mobius are strong when it comes to communicating love through acts of service. Where Mobius is a little higher on words of affirmation, I believe Loki is slightly higher here. Loki pays attention to Mobius's interests, habits, and creature comforts. He will commit to memory the exact way Mobius prefers his steaks, sandwiches, salads, and coffee prepared.

Mobius, for his part, will take care of things Loki doesn't like doing. Taking out the garbage? Done. Washing the car and filling it with gas? Did it while you were asleep. Filling out paperwork? Say no more.

Sadly, I don't think either of them have a talent for cooking. Loki grew up with palace servants. Mobius relied on the TVA cafeteria. They will attempt to conquer the kitchen together, but the end result is always either a fire or a flood. It's okay. Loki can name Mobius's top 5 take-out places off the top of his head.

GIFTS

Neither Loki nor Mobius strike me as big on gifts, but when they feel the sentiment, they give one another meaningful things that only they understand.

I think Mobius may be slightly more inclined for gift-giving. He knows what material objects mean most to Loki and why. Loki, meanwhile, might feel challenged in this area. Not for a lack of enthusiasm, mind, but because Mobius doesn't have many material desires beyond a jet ski. Loki would like to think he's more creative than getting Mobius a new one once a year.

In short, Loki and Mobius already engage in the 5 love languages. Being together will only strengthen what they do for one another, much to their friends' longsuffering annoyance.

[stickymolasses]

Hello! Can you write a nurse reader x harry osborn? :)

MAKE YOU BETTER

an: hello! i love reading ur harry fics so much, thank you for this prompt! i hope u like it <3 ps: reader does not know peter is spiderman, they just think peter got injured somehow and the symbiote transferred over to him. spiderman having a black suit, in their eyes, is just a coincidence. just imagine reader being totally oblivious, lol.

summary: You're Harry's nurse and you can't help him feel better physically anymore, so you resort to playing therapist. (fluff/a little angst if you squint) pairing: harry osborn x reader warnings: sick & irritable harry

You knock twice as gently as possible, trying not to disturb Harry too much. He mumbles something that resembles “come in,” so you allow yourself to slowly open the door. You close it upon entering and lean against it.

“How are you feeling today, Harry?” you ask, wishful thinking taking over, though you think you probably know the answer.

Harry shuffles a little in his bed and leans his head back. He swallows hard, and his Adam's apple bobs in his throat. His form has gotten frail over the past couple of days.

He breathes in deeply and his words come out in a whisper, “Never been better.” He smiles sarcastically and breathes out his nose, a laugh that does not require him to flex his stomach.

You can see his pain. You can feel it too. You don’t want to pry, but as his nurse, you have a job. You are supposed to make him feel better, get healthier. He can’t get any better, physically, that is. Your real task now is to change his mindset.

“What’s been bothering you lately? Any serious pain I should know about?” You cross your arms, still leaning on the door.

Harry is sitting up now, giving you a better view of the dark purple bags under his eyes. You wince and look down, avoiding his gaze. “The usual. My pain lately has been in my head. I’ve been mulling things over, got lots to think about.”

He looks down at his lap, twiddling his thumbs. His boredom has reached a new peak, having filled out four science-themed crossword books.

You nod at him as if to say “Go on.”

He furrows his brows in thought, still looking down at his hands.

“It’s Peter.” He looks up at you swiftly. “He’s… changed.”

You move towards his bed and take a seat nearer to him, to make him more comfortable. Your words come out slowly and very quietly, “Changed, how?”

He sighs, “It’s complicated. After his little… accident, having the symbiote- um, the suit- affects him in a way that it hadn’t done to me. He’s angry.”

You know he’s telling the truth. You’ve seen it. When Peter blew up on Harry and told him he should “pop some more pills.” From knowing Peter for a few months now, you would never have expected him to act that way towards anyone, let alone his best friend.

“Has he ever been angry like that before, with you?” You inquire, still pushing.

“Never. I was usually the one with the temper.”

“If you’ll allow me to play devil's advocate, I think you might need to give Peter the benefit of the doubt because-”

Harry gripped his comforter until his knuckles turned white.

“He wants me to die.” The words came out like a curse, laced with venom. His face falls into his palm, and he rubs his temples.

Once he finds himself calm, he opens his mouth again to speak, but no words come out. He looks at your face, eager to listen. Something about the way you look at him helps him find the words.

“I’m sorry. You’re right, he’s fighting his own battles. We all are.” He looks up at you, awaiting a response. You fall silent.

Your gaze is morphing under his. You feel like you’re melting rapidly under a heat lamp, but you’re just looking at each other. This moment feels more meaningful than the actual verbal conversation you were having just moments before. You’re beginning to feel different about him, and the feeling is dangerous, fatal even.

“Stop looking at me like that. Like I’m some sick child.” Harry turns his head away from you, like an actual child. A child who doesn’t want to listen to his guardian.

You scramble, “Like what? I wasn’t looking at you like anything; I was just-”

“You were pitying me; I can see it with my own two eyes.” The moment was fleeting, but you could see him changing his mind mid-sentence. Something about you kept him sane.

You breathe loudly, and he can hear the gears turning in your head. You were calculating a response so as not to irritate him further.

“I wasn't pitying you. I was just… I was thinking about how you were before. You were so full of life, seeing you like this makes me wonder what you would be doing if you weren’t in this position.” You reach for his hand and clasp it gently. His hand is cold, in contrast to your warm ones. Your thumb moves in circles over his knuckles.

“Can you help me stand up, please?” He flashes doe eyes at you, waiting for an answer. You grip his hand tighter and help him rise from the bed. When he is fully standing, he pulls you into a hug so swiftly that you wobble a bit.

He buries his head into your neck and mumbles something incoherent, and you don’t bother to ask him to repeat himself. You hold each other for just a second too long.

“Sorry, I just wanted to look out the window.” He hobbles over to the giant window and stops in front of it, placing a hand on the frame and leaning on it.

“New York City used to be so beautiful, don’t you think?” He continues to stare longingly at the world outside his room.

“I think it’s still gorgeous.” You stand next to him, placing a hand on his bicep to make sure he doesn’t lose his balance.

“Of course you would. Any world with you in it should be grateful to have you.” He turns towards you and removes your hand from his arm, placing a hand on your waist. He looks down at you with an unreadable gaze.

You look up at him and cup his face in your hands, smoothing your thumb over his cheek. His brown eyes sparkle with an ambition that you haven’t seen in all of your days of knowing him. He looks down at your lips and you notice. He leans in, and you follow suit, connecting your lips in harmony.

“You are the most beautiful thing in all of New York City, Harry.”

an: hello! i hope this was what you were looking for, i got a little carried away. this was a lot of fun! thank you for the ask again!

[more harry content here]

[alexbkrieger13]

Double vision

Partners on and off the pitch, Bayern pair Pernille Harder and Magdalena Eriksson have firm convictions on all the big topics facing women’s football in an era of exciting growth and mounting pressures

In a room at Bayern München’s training ground, Magdalena Eriksson and Pernille Harder are talking bicycles. One of their favourite things about Munich, the place they have both called home since making the switch last summer from Chelsea to Bayern, is the ease of travel for cyclists in the Bavarian capital.

Eriksson: “Now we live quite centrally so we can use our bikes to get anywhere.”

Harder: “It is a bit easier to bike here in Munich than in London.”

Magda: “We even took our bikes to Oktoberfest once.” 

Pernille (laughs): “We were biking straight!”

This is the beauty of an interview with the pair (even one conducted over Zoom, as this one is): you raise a subject and they bounce it around between them, their insights and reflections interspersed with lighter moments and laughter. And, as arguably their sport’s highest-profile couple – Harder is a two-time UEFA Women’s Player of the Year, Eriksson a Sweden stalwart – they have plenty to say. 

Both care deeply about matters on and off the football pitch. They are members of UEFA’s Football Board (of which more later), they support the Common Goal project – pledging one per cent of their salaries to support football charities – and on top of that they are advocates for the LGBTQ+ community. 

But, first, back to finding their feet in Munich, where the duo bring serious know-how to a Bayern side with big ambitions, despite an early exit from the Champions League in January. In Harder’s case, the Denmark forward knew German football already from her three years with Wolfsburg between 2017 and 2020. For Eriksson, after six seasons in England with Chelsea, this is an entirely new experience – which is exactly what she was hoping for.

“I think that’s how we are as people,” says the former Blues captain. “A reason why we moved is I am really curious about a new culture and a new environment.” From the sounds of things, that decision is paying off too. Away from the pitch, she is enamoured of the local coffee shops; on it, she has been impressed by the way “a lot of the girls take responsibility around the dressing room and with how things should work around the team. There’s quite a clear structure of different responsibilities, and the players take ownership of that. That’s something more like how it was in Sweden, and not at all in England. It makes us take responsibility and it’s something I appreciate.”

As for Harder, she elaborates on the unique culture of Germany’s biggest football club – one which attempts to marry sustained success with humility. “It really is a club where you have to work hard, be humble but also know your worth,” she says. “It’s a bit weird. There is no arrogance: we know we’re good, we know we are a big club, but we know we also have to work hard. There’s a lot of respect for each other, and it’s not only in our team. When we go to the campus and meet the academy boys or some of the other staff, you have the respect. You treat others the way you want to be treated, and that’s a really good value which aligns with my values.”

Now both in their thirties – Eriksson is 30, Harder 31 – they knew the women’s game before its lift-off moments of recent years. Thus, they bring a helpful sense of perspective to any discussion of its development, and how it might evolve in years to come.

If female footballers today have opportunities beyond the dreams of previous generations, they face pressures unknown by their predecessors too, as Eriksson explains. “I think there are two sides to every story. Maybe, when we grew up, there wasn’t that much pressure, but with a growing platform [and how] the women’s game is growing, there is also growing pressure. The fans are growing, social media is growing, so there are two sides to it.

“We can really help the younger generation of today to deal with that kind of pressure, which you have to be able to manage as a footballer,” she adds. “You have to find what you need to focus on and what you should really just shut off and not focus on. You need to find the people that you talk football with and the people’s opinions you shouldn’t care about.”

Harder picks up the thread: “When we were younger, there was only one focus and that was football – to get better and to win. It was just football: that was the thing we played for. Now, there is so much more and, with social media, it’s also about a lot of individual awards, individual recognition, when the focus should be on the team. And I think it’s easier to be distracted [from] having that right focus. That’s something important to think about…”

“And to remind yourself about on a daily basis,” Eriksson cuts in. “And also to spread that within the team – that it’s a team sport and the team wins, the team loses, the team scores, the team concedes. All of those things.”

“Except when Magda scores!” adds Harder with a laugh, teasing her partner over a goal she scored in the week of this interview.

Jokes aside, the pair obviously think a lot about the game, which makes them natural choices to sit on UEFA’s Football Board, the body set up last year to draw on the knowledge of current and former players and elite coaches in the shaping of women’s football. For Eriksson, it’s “inspiring to know you get a direct line to some really big decision-makers”, and the welfare of players – “the football calendar and making football sustainable” – is something both women are keen to highlight.

“We all want a long career, but sometimes if you have to play all the time and have no break, that will shorten it,” says Harder. “Often, we have tournaments in the middle of summer or late summer, so we have four or five weeks before the tournament for our summer holiday, but then we don’t really have that time off because you train to prepare for the World Cup. And then, after the World Cup, [Magda] had ten days and I had two weeks off, and then you just go straight back into it. So, you have to put the tournaments earlier so you have at least four weeks after when you can really, medically, relax and be ready for the new season. Everything else is just too hard mentally and for the body.”

“It was the same last year with the EURO and the amount of injuries we saw after,” says Eriksson, who, ironically, just days after our interview, suffered a metatarsal fracture in her left foot. “Again, [it was] a couple of weeks off for a few, even less for others, and then you are straight back into a high-performance environment where you immediately have to play games. Finding a balance in the calendar where you get the breaks at the right time and don’t have too many games in short spaces of time is the most important thing.

“The fact we are starting now to do research on women’s bodies and women’s players is the first step. With the way we train, the way we train conditioning, everything is based on research on men’s football players, men’s athletes. We don’t know if it’s the same for us. Should we train more or less, or in a different way?”

From Harder comes further food for thought. “When you think about it, we use the same football as the men. It isn’t that I want to change it, but it’s also the same size of pitch and we don’t have the same body; we don’t have the same strength in the muscles. I don’t know the impact from every time I shoot or make a pass, if that’s actually a bigger impact on my muscles than it is on a man’s. That’s something I think it would be quite interesting to look at. I don’t know if it’s something we want to change and have a lighter ball. Maybe it’s just small percentages of how heavy the ball is that could change it.”

“There is rivalry in women’s football, but respect, love and joy always come first”

It’s fascinating to hear this to and fro on the physical side of the game they love, and it’s not the only challenge they see. We talk too about misogyny and what Harder describes as “a mindset of some people who don’t want to change [and see] that women can also play football, women can also be commentating on men’s football, that they also have knowledge about football. They have their mindset and their values about it and it’s really difficult for them to change.”

What is not in question is that women’s football has taken giant steps already in terms of status and recognition. As the commercial opportunities grow, however, neither woman wants to lose the things that make it different from the men’s game. Eriksson recalls the celebratory atmosphere in Australia and New Zealand during the last Women’s World Cup; she cites too the friendly fan dynamics in the club realm.

“We are coming off the back of a fantastic World Cup where there were only positive emotions connected to the games. Of course, some teams win, some teams lose – that’s part of football – but the way the tournament was held and the fan culture, that was amazing. So much positivity, so much joy, and that’s everywhere in women’s football fan culture right at the moment. That is what we want to keep. In women’s football, that rivalry is still there, but the respect, the love and the joy is always what comes first.”

The last word comes from Harder, ever the finisher. “It won’t be easy to keep it like that, but that at least is the aim.” 

[salemshotspot]

Slashers with a reader that picks at their skin:

[cw/tw//skin picking, anxiety, drug use, self harm slightly]

[includes: choptop sawyer, bubba sawyer, luigi largo, otis driftwood, freddy kreuger, doomhead]

Chop-Top Swayer:

I feel like he would notice your scalp picking pretty quick but not really say much at first; not because he didn’t care but more of the fact he picks at his scalp a lot {because of his plate} so he assumes it’s normal and nothing to worry about, he’ll just assume your head has been particularly itchy lately like his plate from time to time.

However one rare evening where no one had any pressing matters to attend to you sat with the Sawyer’s to have dinner and afterwards you all sat and watched the television.

Drayton had absolutely no interest in the television because “tv isn’t as good as it once was" so he just kind of looked around the room aimlessly and it just so happened that his eyes landed on you as you were picking at your already damaged scalp.

Drayton goes in a partly joking tone "fuck y/n has chop-top been rubbing off on you that much, you’ve been picking at that darn head more than him lately.”

You just awkwardly laugh trying not to bring more attention to the matter and move your hands away from your head, feeling yourself grow more anxious about the fact attention was brought to the matter.

After a few minutes you make up an excuse along the lines of “I’m tired I’m going to head upstairs” and quickly rush to the bedroom which you share with Chop-Top.

Chop-Top would notice you left when he went to place his arm around you and he couldn’t feel you there.

He would be confused as to where you were because he wasn’t paying attention because he was focused on the tv after it caught his attention, however when Drayton explained in a slightly annoyed tone that he made a, slightly, joking comment and you upped sticks and went to what he assumed was sleep for the night Chop-Top was puzzled to say the least.

He decided to make his way to the bedroom which he shared with you to see if you were ok, however when he walked in on you close to tears, struggling to breathe as you was trying to hold in your tears, he could tell you wasn’t holding up too well.

He isn’t too familiar with people expressing feelings around him as due to his nature and the whole family business he never really formed bonds with anyone, let alone him comforting them.

It’s safe to say his first thought would be to freak out, threatening to kill whoever upset you {very aggressively.}

I feel like he’d also just kind of stand in the door way while he tried to work out what to do, he hates seeing you like this but he also hates knowing that he doesn’t know how to help.

He’d eventually land on just holding you, still freaking out inside.

When you finally calm down and regulate your breathing he would 100% try and break the silence with a joke.

”We all bored you to tears down there y/n?” He anxiously jokes.

“No it’s not that” you trail off and take a deep breathe; you then explain everything to him from how anxious you’ve been feeling to how you’ve been stress picking at your scalp.

He feels immediately guilty because he noticed it happening but said nothing about it.

It’s safe to say after that you both lay in each other’s arms for a long time.

As he is also prone to picking at his scalp Chop-Top knows how you feel better than anyone and in turn has a long list of ways to try and help you stop, or at least reduce how frequently you pick at your scalp.

Chop-Top would definitely be one to advocate getting high whenever you were stressed {and he certainly wouldn’t be opposed to getting high with you, apparently it’s "good couple bonding.”

Despite his best efforts, he shows his support in the most round about, ‘Chop-Top’ way possible, for example he’d tell you that “your scalp is far too pretty to hurt” {he thought it was endearing.}

Most importantly he’d want you to know you can talk to him, even if he’s not the best with his words.

I also feel like he’d pat your head a lot to try and comfort you whenever you were stressed so you would be less inclined to pick at your scalp.

Bubba Swayer:

He wouldn’t notice the scalp picking but he’d notice the cuts on your head; basically he’d just start seeing more cuts and marks through your hair and royally freak out.

Immediately wants to, violently, kill whoever kept hurting your head.

This idea was very quickly put on the back burner once you explained that you did it yourself.

I don’t think he’d fully understand it, like he finds hurting others, when deserved, very therapeutic because it’s what he’s always done but he can’t wrap his head around the idea of self-inflicted pain.

Although he doesn’t understand it he wants to listen to you talk about it to try and understand it better so he can support you the best he can.

Would most likely end up hugging you so tight that you thought you was going to die after you explained everything in detail.

If he ever saw you picking at your scalp or looking anxious he would just place his hand on your head and kind of just leave it there? You found it very comforting all be it confusing at first.

Luigi Largo:

Luigi isn’t the world’s most observant man so don’t be surprised if he doesn’t notice your nervous habit straight away.

I feel like he would find out in the most unconventional way, not because he’s oblivious, he’s just so focused on work that he pushes everything aside.

I feel like him finding out would be something along the lines of Pavi bringing it up, like casually asking Luigi how you was doing with the whole thing {because let’s face it, pretty much everyone else has noticed you picking at your head once or twice when you was stressed because you’re too overwhelmed to try and be discreet about it.}

This would cause Luigi to become, even more, short-tempered declaring “if something was going on he’d know.”

On the outside he’d become much more hostile but he would be internally freaking out because he’d feel awful for not noticing if this was happening and convince himself that you’re going to leave him for ‘not caring enough’ or something like that.

He’d eventually psyche himself up enough to go find you and try to talk to you about it, however he’d do it in his own round about way.

"I’m going to kill Pavi” he shouts as he enters the room.

”It’s nice to see you too Luigi” you’d chuckle.

Part way through his rant he’d explain that he was mad because Pavi had essentially made him feel like a bad boyfriend for not noticing that you’d be struggling.

You’d have to get him to backtrack for a moment because he’d miss a few key points such as what Pavi had meant by “you’re struggling” as he apparently put it.

After he explained everything you’d probably have to reassure him that he isn’t a bad boyfriend; despite his demeanour he’s really insecure because of the lack of affection from his dad growing up.

Now he is aware of your problem he’s really observant, like scarily observant.

You’re hands move? He’s looking to make sure you’re not stress picking your skin, he’s been busy and hasn’t seen you all day? When he sees you he checks to make sure you have no cuts on your skin from picking.

If you have been picking at your skin he would be concerned; he isn’t the best at talking about feelings but he’ll listen to you and try his best to understand.

If he noticed you were getting anxious and picking at your skin he would definitely be the type to just grab your hand and keep hold of it to comfort you and stop you picking at yourself.

He’s very protective of you as it is but he would probably get *more* protective; like if he even thinks someone or something might be stressing you out he’s resort to violent means instantly {which isn’t anything new.}

Otis Driftwood:

I feel like he’d either be exactly like Luigi Largo in the sense he’s oblivious and wouldn’t notice without someone bringing it up or he’d notice straight away, I feel like he’d be in a bad mood and notice you picking at yourself and it would annoy him so he’d tell you to stop {which would in turn make it worse.}

When you didn’t stop he’d go to question it but when he noticed you were stressed he’d be confused; “what the fuck is up with you?”

I don’t think he’d completely understand what was the matter when you explained how you felt but he’d understand enough to know that he should probably keep an eye on you.

I don’t care if you agree with this, I will die on this hill, if you were really stressed and started picking at your skin, he would just swat your hand away from your head.

HOWEVER, I feel like Otis would also kiss your head, when no one was looking, and I will not take arguments on this one.

Freddy Kreuger:

Freddy would be surprisingly observant of you, so when you start picking at your head when you’re stressed or anxious, he will notice.

He wouldn’t try and be gentle and ‘walk around the topic’ he’d just ask you about it straight up.

I feel like he’d be really sympathetic and understanding of the whole situation.

After you spoke about it he would probably try and cheer you up afterwards and take your mind off of it to cheer you up by telling really shitty jokes.

I feel like if he saw you getting really anxious and start picking at your skin his first thought would be to kind of prompt you to stop by gently pushing your hand away from your head and try to take your mind off whatever is making you anxious by completely removing either you or whatever is making you stressed or anxious from the situation.

If that failed to work he would take matters into his own hands, quite literally, by keeping hold of your hands until you’ve calmed down.

He would probably just talk to you until you felt better, whether it be about the situation or talking about something completely random to try and take your mind off of it; he’s definitely a talker.

Doomhead:

He would without a doubt notice your habit straight away, he seems like the kind of person to notice *everything* for no other reason than paranoia; he needs every element of his surroundings to be in his control all of the time so he himself doesn’t become stressed so in turn he pays attention to everything all of the time.

He would try and make you feel better and, at first, make you feel worse.

"Can you stop doing that, there’s better things to be doing” was meant to be endearing and meant to show you that you don’t have to hurt yourself but it came across as him calling your habit stupid.

When you started crying at his comment it’s safe to say he’d be confused as fuck; “what the fuck are you crying at now.”

Once you explained it he’d fee quite bad but he wouldn’t want you to know that; he’d just explain that that’s not what he meant.

If he ever saw you getting anxious or stressed I don’t think he’d try and physically stop you he’d just shoot you a look or say something to you.

If you didn’t stop picking at your skin after he brought it up he would then physically move your hands and give you a long ass talking to about why you shouldn’t do it.

TLDR; if he sees you picking at your skin he will give you a lecture.

He cares about you, he just doesn’t really know how to show it so it manifests in him acting like a pissed off parent or teacher.

A/N:

God I wrote this so long ago

[feralbutfluffy]

48: Muriel

Chapter 48 of Too Wise to Woo Peaceably

*********

Well they were sitting on the same sofa, at least. That was something!

Muriel eyed the angel and the demon seated at either end of the magnificently dark Chesterfield sofa. Aziraphale sat on the left, straight-backed and proper, his posture too perfect to be truly comfortable. Crowley sat on the right, slouched in the corner between the back of the sofa and the armrest looking like he’d never even heard of good posture, his left arm slung over the side.

They really were the oddest couple.

At the coffee shop, Muriel had once seen two young women at the coffee shop laughing and swearing secrecy to each other. They had linked their little fingers together, said “pinkie promise!” and tried to look solemn before collapsing into a fit of giggles. Nina had explained it was a type of oath.

Muriel had liked that! Pinkie promise, they had mouthed to themselves, linking their own little fingers under the table.

They wondered now about their chances of success if they asked Aziraphale and Crowley to pinkie promise.

Low, very low.

They really couldn’t be trusted though! They seemed to follow a pattern of pulling apart and snapping back together, like one of those rubber bands Nina used to keep the sugar packets in tidy bundles. The first time Muriel had discovered a rubber band, they had pulled it apart and let it go over and over and over again until the rubber had frayed from the tension and it had snapped (ow!). 

Aziraphale and Crowley were, after more than six thousand years, still talking to each other and so clearly much more resistant than the average rubber band, but still. What if the rubber band was a portent?

Muriel wasn’t willing to risk it.

“I really would like you to promise,” they said, trying to sound as solemn as possible.

Crowley scowled at them. “We’re not children. You can’t make us be friends, Muriel.”

Aziraphale jerked around at that, eyes wide. “We are friends, Crowley!”

“Ngh,” said Crowley non-commitally, refusing to meet his eye.

Muriel shook their head in wonder. “When I spend time with you individually you’re both so smart and so kind and just... lovely? Aziraphale, you are so caring and thoughtful! And Crowley, you pretend you’re not, but you’re very patient and quite nice actually?"

Aziraphale looked delighted. Crowley grunted and rolled his eyes.

"I don't really understand why you are both behaving like... this? You weren't like this before! You sat MUCH closer together, for one thing...!"

They were specifically thinking of Crowley, who had perched on the arm of Aziraphale's chair on their first meeting, but for some reason both the angel and the demon flushed at this (strange!).

"You -” Muriel continued, jabbing a finger at Crowley, “are not fooling anyone actually, and - I really shouldn't have to remind you but - you are injured! And you're actually the closest thing I've ever had to a friend? So could you please stop being difficult and let us help you? At least until you can walk independently?”

Crowley made a face, but there was still a reddish tint to his cheeks that Muriel thought might be due to embarrassment, and their words must have roused some defensive instinct in Aziraphale because he jumped to the demon's defense.

“He’s not really being difficult,” he said, before throwing a meaningful glance in Crowley's direction. “Well. No more than usual. Not considering his-”

Muriel turned to Aziraphale, cutting him off.

“And you! You were so devastated and furious and you said all those nice things -” Muriel leaned towards Crowley and whispered, “really, a lot of nice things,” before straightening again, “- and then the moment he got a bit crabby-”

“Crabby? ” Crowley echoed, sounding insulted at their choice of adjective. 

Muriel ignored the interruption. “...you withdrew! And you went all cold and aloof and stand-offish, which is-”

“He’s not cold, he’s just… reserved,” interjected Crowley, advocating for the angel with a shrug. 

Muriel was considering pointing out the fact that each of them had come to the defense of the other when Crowley continued on, his voice low and lazy.

“... Anyway, he kissed me, so I’m not sure any of that applies really.”

It was said with the casual air of someone making small talk about the weather, and two wide-eyed faces turned to stare at him; one panicked, the other incredulous.

Crowley pretended to examine his fingernails.

“Wha-? I beg your pardon? What?” Muriel choked out once they’d regained the power of speech. “Aziraphale kissed-” They turned to ask the angel, “You kissed him? Again? When? Just now?”

Aziraphale's face was completely ashen. He made an unintelligible noise deep in his throat and tugged at his shirt collar, looking desperate. Out of the corner of their eye, Muriel could see Crowley was trying - and failing - to hide the fact that he was quite enjoying himself.

(Infuriating!)

Muriel didn’t really know any bad words but they felt sure Crowley probably deserved one!

Aziraphale cleared his throat and studiously avoided looking at Crowley. He sighed and rubbed his temple. “Not now. Earlier,” he eventually muttered. “It was silly.”

“It absolutely wasn’t,” growled Crowley, staring angrily at him. "Take that back!"

There was an uncomfortable silence, the tension thick. Muriel thought of a rubber band being stretched and stretched.

“No,” agreed Aziraphale softly. “It wasn’t.”

The rubber band snapped back safely, and Muriel chewed their lip.

They should probably go. 

“Right.” Muriel tugged on the hem of their jumper. “Well. It really seems like you have plenty to talk about? So really, promising me that you’ll still be speaking when I get back really shouldn’t be too difficult? Plenty of topics for you to discuss while I’m gone!”

This earned Muriel matching expressions of displeasure. Muriel backed towards the door.

“Promise?” They said, hopefully.

“No promises,” said Aziraphale curtly. “Although if I’m the only one here when you get back, I can guarantee it won’t be because he’s miracled himself elsewhere,” he glared at Crowley, and continued through gritted teeth, “it will be because I’ve permanently discorporated him.”

Crowley made a noise halfway between a grumble and a laugh.

Muriel supposed that was probably the best they could hope for. 

They threw their hands in the air and left them to it.

[baby-girl-e]

Cherry Wine part 2

Part 1

Characters - Phoenix x f!Reader

Summary - You and Natasha talk about what you are to each other and you get to meet some of her friends.

Word Count - 2.1k

Warnings - Spicy fluff, Implied sexual content, internalized homophbia (past tense), lots of feelings and kissing

A/N - I am crazy shocked at how well the first part of this fic was received! It means a lot to me since this is heavily based on my own life (you can read the post that explains it Here) . I hope you enjoy this one just as much! I’m still learning the ropes of writing so be kind and I’ll hopefully be able to write actual smut soon!

You’re not entirely sure how long you stood there on the beach kissing Natasha, but eventually whistles and hollers snap you out of your haze. It suddenly hit you that you had just been making out with Nat in front of her friends and you totally forgot about them. “Right, those fuckers. Um Y/N, how do you feel about being introduced to some of my coworkers?” The fact that she wanted to introduce you to people she trusted with her life was sending your head into an uncontrollable spin. “Yeah, I’d really like that.” Natasha takes your hand and starts running back to her group with you trailing along behind her. 

Once you’re closer to them you can really see how tall they all are, towering even yours and Nats 5’7”. “So guys, this is my… friend Y/N. She just moved here from our hometown.” She hesitated saying friend and you couldn’t blame her. You both had realized the others' mutual feelings mere minutes ago. You didn’t exactly have time to discuss what that made you to each other. A tall blond man is the first to speak up “Wow, friend? Phoenix if that’s how you greet a friend I fear for what that makes us!” Nat starts to blush, referring to him as hangman stuttering to defend herself before a taller man with a mustache approaches you, extending his hand for you to shake. “I’m Bradley, Rooster to these hooligans. It’s very nice to meet you.” Bradley seemed nice, you could tell he was raised well. One by one they all introduce themselves by both their names and call signs. It’s hard to keep up and you know you’ll have to re-learn some. “Do you wanna go somewhere and talk maybe?” Natasha was rarely shy, but she was all nerves now. Did she really think you’d turn down time with her? “Yeah that’d be great.” She goes to grab her stuff and walks with you back the way you came. 

It’s a quiet walk for a couple of minutes before Nat breaks the silence, “So, can I ask why you’re here? I mean not that I’m not happy about it, I just-” You cut her off with a kiss to her lips, hand on her chin turning her head ever so slightly to yours. “You think too much Nat.” She’s blushed more times in the last ten minutes than you think you’ve ever seen the entire time you knew her. With her chin still in your hand she mumbles back to you “Are you advocating I think less? You know, that's one popular opinion in my line of work.” Confused, you decide to enquire further, “I’m sorry what? They teach you not to think?” She laughs and you release her chin and continue walking hand in hand. “Well our team lead on our last mission was always preaching it, and I guess it saved his life.” You don’t think you’ll ever understand the Navy honestly. “Well he seems, Interesting.” Nat just nods, accepting that description. 

Eventually you reach your pretty much empty apartment save for the furniture your boss already had. You sit down on the couch, gesturing for her to do the same. “So I think the first thing we should talk about is that kiss? Perhaps?” You’re hoping for some answers honestly, you went from friends to whatever the hell this was in like maybe thirty minutes? That kiss was the very last thing on your list of things that could happen, maybe like ever, least of all that night. “Like I said before, I’ve liked you for a while but I was always too scared to say anything. Then when I could’ve died all I could think about was the fact that I never told you how I felt.” You scoot closer to her, your hand on her thigh. “And those feelings are…?” She sighed and smiled, shaking her head slightly like she was about to say the most obvious thing in the world. “That I am without a doubt, irreversibly, in love with you.” You barely let her say those last words before your lips are on hers pushing her onto her back. You stay on top of her, unwilling to let go. You stay like this for a few more minutes before Phoenix flips you and kisses you again. She pulls back, loose ponytail hairs hanging in your face and this woman actually giggles. “Does this mean you love me too?” You roll your eyes and kiss her hard on the lips once more. “Yes I love you. Of course I love you.” Her face lights up and she breaks into a grin. It seems that she, like you, needed a verbal confirmation of the others feelings. The two of you carried on with your impromptu makeout session before she stopped it again. “Natasha I swear to god if you stop kissing me one more time I’m going to lose it.” She pecks you on the lips again and you sigh, perfectly content. “When I said let’s talk, I really did mean let's talk.” She’s right, like always. “Fine, but for the record this is way more fun than talking has ever been.” Nat pulls you to a sitting position, her on your lap. “Look, You’re special to me. I want to do this right, and I want this to be real. If we’re going to do this then it has to be all in.”

 You consider her words. All in? Did you even know what that meant? It amazed you that anyone would want to get to know you well enough to even think about being all in. You couldn’t remember the last time someone prioritized you, made you feel important. Sure you had friends, and people who were nice to you, but they were really only there for you when it was convenient for them. They were only there for you when they remembered to be. But Nat? She saw you. She wanted to be there for you. No matter where she was, or what she was doing, she always remembered. You remember years ago when you were maybe 14 when your cousin died, it felt like the whole world was crashing down onto you. This was the first time in your young life that you felt true and gut wrenching heartache. Your parents told you when you got home from school and lo and behold hours later there was Nat on your porch, flowers in hand and tears in her eyes. She held you while you cried and stayed that way for at least a few hours. That day was valentine's day and every year on the holiday since then she was at your door, flowers in hand, ready to hold you. It hurt less and less year after year, and eventually it became just the two of you making the day your own. It was never a romantic thing, neither of you realizing your feelings just yet, it was more than that. The two of you had carved out your own little world amidst the chaos and you couldn’t be happier. Even when she started with the Navy she always sent you a letter on valentines day, and you kept every single one of them. “Nat, There’s nobody in this world that gets me like you do. That cares as much as you do. Even when you’re worlds away, you still showed up for me. I’m all in. I’ve never been so certain of anything in my entire life.” Nat smiles ear to ear. She looked like she almost couldn’t believe it. Her not believe it? “So… does this mean you’re my girlfriend then?” You smile back, and lean in close, “You bet your ass it does, Lover.” You may have exaggerated that last word, dragging it out low next to her ear. You swore you heard what was a mixture of a squeak and a moan from Nat before you’re kissing again, her pushing you back down onto the couch. In a flurry of desperate hands, searching lips, and strained breaths, you fall into bed with your best friend. Finally. 

The next morning you wake with the sun, warm, sated, and deliriously happy. There was a warm body next to you, in the same state of undress, snoring quietly. You would’ve never imagined that this was how your night could’ve gone but you’re so glad it did. You look down to see Nat in all her sun-kissed glory sprawled on the bed, hair framing her head like a halo. You take a moment to brush your fingertips along her cheekbone slightly and suddenly it’s hard to breathe. Have you ever seen someone so beautiful? Sure you had spent years looking at Natasha, from a friendly and romantic perspective, but this felt different somehow. It was almost like what the two of you had done last night uncovered something. She was no longer just your friend, or even someone you were crushing on. She was yours. Heart and soul, the two of you were officially lovers. You think about how proud your younger self would be at this moment. Little Junior High you who had just realized that they may also like girls in a time and community that didn’t support it. She was scared, and even tried to pray it away. She would be so happy that you had found this peace and comfort in Natasha, shocked probably, but happy. It hurt to think about the time you thought liking girls was a bad thing, but it wasn’t your fault. When someone is brainwashed, they don’t know they’re brainwashed. All you were taught was how to love a man, and to avoid everyone who felt differently. It was a slow change, but eventually you embrace your differences. This was a part of you and you couldn’t imagine living any differently, especially now. That scared little girl deserved better. She deserved better from her parents, her community, and from the church that claimed to love her. You couldn’t mess this up, you had to do this right. For her.  

You took a moment to admire Natasha a little, the curve of her shoulders, the slightly freckled collarbone from spending her time in the sun. You brushed away the hairs from her face to lean down and kiss her cheek, hoping to wake her this time. You get your wish in the form of Nat moving her head slightly to kiss you square on the lips. “Good morning Y/N.” She mumbled against your mouth and you thought that was what would do you in. You desperately needed this every morning for the rest of your life. “Good morning indeed Natasha.” She smiles against your lips and slowly makes her way down your neck. She’s relentless on her exploration of you and you seriously can’t find it in you to have any objections. You giggle as she gets lower, her lips on the tops of your breasts. “Sleep well?” You ask her this casually, knowing her answer. She releases your breasts long enough to snarkily answer, “I did once somebody let me sleep!” You scoff at her and roll your eyes. “I’m sorry, are you complaining? Listen it’s not my fault you look that god damned good. Honestly Nat, are you trying to kill me?” She looks bashful, but still a bit smug. “Now why would I want to do that?” Her faux innocence was punctuated with a wink. That minx. “Well, if you could just tone down the drop dead gorgeous thing that’d be great.” She blushes at your words and makes her way back up to your lips. “I will if you will.” She’s always challenging you to do better, be better, and you always take her up on it. Guess you’ll have to listen now too. “You’re on Trace, but I’m going to tell you right now that no matter what you do it won’t work.” She shakes her head and kisses you once more, this time a bit more deep. Her tongue is involved and it pulls a positively sinful sound out of you. “Oh like that, huh baby?” You moan at the pet name, remembering when she said that for the first time last night. It caught you so off guard, but it almost made you climax right there and then. What really set you off was when she said it later, praising you with a “That’s it baby, that’s a good girl.” If you had been hooked up to a heart monitor you probably would’ve flatlined right there. Back in the present you decide to be a little snarky, feeling brave. “I didn’t show you enough last night?” She looks intrigued by your slight brattiness but seems to like it. “No, why don’t you be a good girl and show me?” Oh she was really testing you wasn’t she? You’ll show her.

Tags: @some-lovely-day @sarah-lane123 @thislovewillsetyoufree @lithiumwolf19 @natasharomanoffisbaebby

[storiesofsvu]

Sugar Mommy Ch 6

Warnings: language, some minor sassing, very brief talk of svu stuff.

A few months had passed since you had began your…arrangement, relationship, whatever you wanted to call it, with Rita. You spent most of your time at her apartment, it being much closer to her firm than yours, more than satisfied with spending the time off work buried in each other’s arms. She always made sure you were more than well taken care of, much preferring the days you were smiling and laughing, always eager to make you feel that way rather than the days that got you down. She consistently praised you when you went above your job level, helping her out with cases and before you knew it, there was a new slew of expensive suits and jewelry spread between hers and your apartments that she was very insistent was yours.

November had hit the city, the temperature dropping, small flurries of snow whipped through the air as the holidays  took over the city. You were now more than ever thankful that you didn’t have to go back to your own apartment very often, avoiding a large chunk of the tourists that crowded the streets at this time of year. You were also more than thankful that Rita’s apartment was so close to her firm, if you had to be outside in a skirt, you preferred it wasn’t for a very long time.

The things you were the most thankful for were days like today, where a slow fluffy trail of snow fell from the sky outside, ever present from the floor to ceiling windows, but you were able to stay inside. Electric fireplace on, snuggled up against Rita on the sectional, limbs entangled under a fuzzy blanket while you prepped for the holidays with a few winter themed movies. You were about halfway through The Holiday, humming in satisfaction at the feel of Rita’s fingers gently playing with your hair, ever so content and happy with everything. On the coffee table her phone let out a vibrating buzz, shortly followed by a small series of repeating ones as texts came in. Leaning forward to grab it she did her best to keep the blanket wrapped around you, saving you from the cooling air in the apartment.

“Please don’t tell me that’s work.” You murmured, burying yourself deeper against her in an attempt to get her to stay.

“It’s…not..kind of..” She turned quickly to place a soft kiss on your hair before turning her attention back to the messages. “But I do need to go.” Grumbling you detached yourself from her side, pushing up to sitting.

“You need me?”

“No darling.” Stroking your cheek she gave you a adoring smile, a warm kiss meeting your lips in a smile. “I told you, no work today. It’s just a friend from Dowland. Her daughter was raped at a school dance last week, I’ve got to go see Liv, follow up with Laura.”

“Why am I not surprised you went to Dowland? And advocating for the victim? You’re not the cold hearted defence attorney I thought you were.” You teased as she stood from the couch, shooting you a smirk.

“You know more than anyone how un-cold hearted I can be.” She leant down once more to kiss you again, “I’ll shower and head out.”

“Shall I join you?” Rita shot a wicked grin at your question, the gleam in her eye ever evident.

“As much as I would adore that, you’d keep me distracted all day. Snuggle back up, hopefully this won’t take too long.” She gave you a smile over her shoulder as she began to move down the hallway.

You dropped back down onto the couch, pulling the blanket tighter around you to make up for the lack of Rita’s body heat, your attention turned back to the movie. Shortly after you heard the water of the shower begin your phone buzzed with a couple of messages, you rolled your eyes at the content, groaning as you untangled yourself from the blanket. Grabbing the cardigan Rita had left over the back of the couch as you moved to your laptop at the kitchen island. You’d low key been putting this off for long enough now, you’d have to deal with it or you’d have a very annoying problem on your hands.

You weren’t sure how long you were enthralled with your computer screen, the sound of Rita’s heels on the hardwood pulling your attention over the screen after a moment of furrowed brows as you clicked through something.

“How do you always look so sophisticatedly stunning?” You asked, earning a smile from her.

“Thank you.” She moved around the kitchen, kissing your cheek in return before pulling down a reusable coffee mug from the cabinet, not missing the heavy sigh you let out as your attention turned back to your computer. “What’s bothering you?”

“New York housing market.”

“Hmm?”

“My lease is up end of the year and my landlord just emailed me that he’s jacking up my rent. I’m trying to find something remotely affordable on this side of the river.” You quickly held up a hand up to her, not realizing her back was to you as she added cream into her coffee, “And don’t even start saying that you’ll pay my rent for me. You’ve covered enough of my bills I don’t need to feel like you own me or something.”

The creamer container hit the counter with a louder clunk that she’d intended, a sense of panic and worry shooting through her body at your words, not even really having thought about it before. Rita hadn’t ever intended for anything like that but as her mind raced she realized she did pay off two of your largest bills and though the firm technicallypaid your salary…she was still your boss. She practically whipped around, slightly surprised you were still staring at your computer.

“Darling you don’t really feel like that do you?” She slowly moved toward you, a forearm leaning on the island beside where you sat.

“Hmm?” You tore your eyes from the apartment listings, perplexity on your face as you looked at her.

“You don’t feel like I own you do I? Because that is the farthest-“

“Oh God! No! Rita, I didn’t mean it like that.” You hand clasped the one she had placed on the island, “I-just..”

“Y/n, you are without a doubt one of the most strong, powerful and independent people I know. That’s why I hired you, not to mention your attention to detail. I never meant to overstep, or make you feel like you were obligated to stick around, I just wanted to help out where I could.” You gave her hand a squeeze, a soft smile on your cheeks.

“I don’t stick around because I feel like I have to, I do it because there’s no one I’d rather spend this much time with. And…a girl can get used to this luxury lifestyle…” You smirked, “And I am certainly not complaining about the sex. Nor do I feel like you’re coercing me into it or anything.” You softly pulled her to you, lips meeting hers, “Trust me.”

“Good.” She kissed you again, a hand coming to squeeze at your thigh as she felt the relief washing over her body, “Because I may have a housing solution that doesn’t involve me paying your rent.”

“Oh?” You cocked a brow, curious as to where she was going with this idea.

“Take the guest room. Permanently. Move your things into it, make it your own space.” The hand on your thigh moved to link with your fingers.

“And…what if I don’t want my own space?”

“Then you’re lucky I love you enough to let you invade mine.” She couldn’t help the small chuckle as your face shot up to hers, first in disbelief of her words and then a breathy laugh of a smile broke onto your face.

“What?”

“You heard me.” She kissed your cheek, “You can cover…wi-fi, the utility bill, tipping the doorman, the occasional grocery order, seem reasonable?”

“No.” You laughed, “But like hell I can afford half of $25,000 a month, so I’ll take it.”

“Good. And, hopefully the timing isn’t horrible, but you have an appointment at Lara on 37th at two to find a dress, the car will be here at 1:30.”

“Why do I need a dress?”

“The winter solstice, holiday, gala or whatever is next weekend.”

“I need to go to that?” She laughed at the crinkle of distaste in your nose.

“Technically no, but I’m not dealing with a room full of lawyers at some uppity Upper East Side gala without you, it’ll be no fun.” You let out a bark of a laugh at her reply.

“You spend everyday in a room full of lawyers…and all things considered? I wouldn’t be surprised in the least if you told me you were from the Upper East Side.” She shot you a knowing look.

“You know what I mean. The trust fund babies who think partying and being socialites with fat wallets is more important than anything else, not those that actually pursue careers.”

“Without them you’d have no client list.” She half glared at you, “I’m just saying! I’m not wrong! You really want me at this stuffy event?”

“It’s an open bar…and we can make fun of everyone together all night. Nothing has to come out, you’re just there as my plus one, nothing more if that’s what you want.”

“You’ve already secured me an appointment to find a dress.” You kissed her quickly, “Besides, I can rarely say no to you.”

“Perfect.”Rita’s hand cupped your cheek softly, meeting your lips in the world’s gentlest kiss as your hand wrapped around her neck, wishing she suddenly had more time before work. “Enjoy your day off. I’ll text once I’m on my way home. And don’t miss that dress appointment.”

“I won’t.” You gave her a quick kiss that she smiled into.

“And don’t forget you look radiant in green.” You chuckled softly, kissing the back of her free hand as she grabbed her coffee.

“I could never.” She gave you a soft smile, slightly surprised at the way you suddenly tugged her back into your arms for another kiss, “And for the record... I love you too…”

[a-shakespearean-in-paris]

Spicy prompts it is! Cullydia, stuck in a tight space with each other. 😏🤭 OR modern AU with Cullydia being in a club (dark, heavy bass, probably hole in the wall kinda place) getting handsy out on the dance floor~

Can be in established relationship or not (yet). 🤣

If either of those peak your interest, ofc.

As a rule Cullen doesn’t like dancing, but he loves holding Lydia. That afternoon when she came home from Emprise he would have been more than happy to stay in his office with her, or perhaps venture above, but she promised Cabot at the Herald’s Rest an Inquisitorial appearance with the Commander in tow. The sancere arrived from Orlais. She needed to try it. He should have known then she’d be lulled to dance once there.

When they were perched against the bar, Lydia with the sancere, she took a delicate sip. It was a rich and smooth wine with only a hint of acidity, or so said Lydia. Cullen couldn’t tell. He preferred Fereldan beer. Leaning against the counter after Lydia finished both his and her sanceres, she started swaying to the flute and the drum. It lulled her well. She asked him to dance.

Cullen doesn’t like dancing. Not one bit. Especially when he’s not properly inebriated. He doesn’t advocate for intoxication, but he recognizes his soldiers need a bit of fun ever now and then. He made that mistake, among many, in Kirkwall. He didn’t give his men time to celebrate, even if there were far fewer things to celebrate back then.

Lydia is a celebration. As he dances, or tries to anyway, he finds her his own brand of intoxication. How does she know he loves the way the little whisps of her hair hit her shoulder? How does she know he loves it when she pushes her hair away from her face, revealing that small and tantalizing widow’s peak at the top of her forehead that’s almost a crown? Her sleeves fall off her tanned shoulders, her embroidered corset cinching in. He gulps at the valley, sighs at the closeness of her. She doesn’t take proper form anymore as more couples and some singles scurry to the floor to dance, pressing them in. Lydia pulls him closer, too concerned with him than proper form. He’s always more concerned with her than proper form.

She’s been gone before now. He's missed her. It should be easier to part with her the more they’ve had to do it, but for Cullen she sticks to him more like honey with every reunion, making every parting all the less of a sweet sorrow and all the more a despairing torment. She’s pliant in his arms, lithe and strong, and she lifts herself to her tip toes so they are more shoulder to shoulder. If he thinks too much of how he’s missed her, he’ll harden and what good will that do for morale? His soldiers will laugh, perhaps call him whipped, as if he’s even cared about that.

It doesn’t matter. He’s hard. She grinds against him, all too aware of it. “I missed you,” he whispers in her ear, holding onto her more tightly as soldiers, loungers, friends—Sera even, and is that Dorian? crowd around him on the dance floor. “I missed you so much.”

“I know that,” she whispers back, groaning when her nails skim lightly down the nape of his neck. “I can feel you.”

“Let’s get away for a while.”

“Let’s stay right here.”

No one knows, she says. It’s just us. It’s not quite true but what’s also true is that Lydia has the uncanny ability to make anyplace seem paradise, and to make anyplace the place where only the two of them exist in the world.

“I missed you too,” she says. “I thought about you. I ached for you.”

“Still?”

“Yes. Still. Always.”

“Thank the Maker.”

“No. Thank me.”

No matter how many times she tells him she’s not some divine gift from above, but only herself who loves him as much as he loves her, he can’t quite help it sometimes. He asks himself how. He asks himself if it’s possible. She reminds him it is.

“There’s too many people here,” he whispers in his ear. “How am I supposed to look nondescript?”

Her warm hands slide underneath his tunic. “You don’t have to try.”

He laughs in spite of himself. “I can’t do that. What will my soldiers say?”

“Do you care?”

“Not particularly.”

Oh, to make love to her with a thousand eyes upon them. They may as well have from the first. All the Inquisition had their eyes upon them. History has their eyes upon them. Love in the middle of war, the former Knight-Commander of Kirkwall with a former Circle mage. To love a woman not despite her magic but because of her fire she is so very warm at night and her hands heal. To love a woman who is a tempest on the battlefield and a tempest in bed, to have stories told about them and speculations thrust upon them. He loves seeing her in the mirror without inhibitions. To have others see her, see it’s his cock she takes, see it’s him she loves…

He groans into her neck, far too intoxicated and far too aroused. She pushes closer to him and he cannot pull away. They are surrounded, firstly, and secondly, he can never think of a good reason to pull away when they’re together. Work? What does it matter? The world? They are the world.

“I’d make love to you in front of thousands.”

He doesn’t realize he has voiced his thought until she asks him how. But of course. She’s a woman of details, though he had only the thought and the notion. But she’s a woman of a thousand good stories, a woman of only the best trouble, and his. He sees no reason at all why he shouldn’t inform her of how, or even a reason why not.  

“Here.” He says.

“On the floor?”

He smirks. “As if we haven’t.”

“It hurts my back.”

“Alright. The war table.”

“It also hurts my back.”

“Mine as well, but only after. But it’s alright. You’ll be on top. I can make the sacrifice.”

“Your Inquisitor and lover appreciates your service.”

But I would hold you, he promises, as you ride me. You’d sink against me for a bit and I’d hold you close, and I wouldn’t even turn my head to see. I’d feel their eyes but I’d mostly feel you. I’d feel you with so much of me that the part of me that should protest is a mockery.

“I’d look,” Lydia says. “I want to know everyone who loves us.”

On top of me I’d hold you, he continues, as his hands remained concerned with the tantalizing dip of waist and hips. You’d feel so good, encased. Full. Feeling me as well as you know yourself. My extension, the other half of me. Sunlight would stream through. Sunlight was made for your body.

“You were carved in sunlight,” Lydia says. “It pours from you. It’s your own magic.”

It’s one thing to be watched, she says as the music changes to a slow dance met for lovers. But imagine if an artist were to paint us. My hands all over your scars, writing a love letter. Your hands cupping my face rather than my breasts because you are a sweet contradiction…

“I’d touch them too,” he promises, his lips already pressed against her ear, then skimming against her neck, tugging her hair down and kissing the top of her breasts. She moans at the slight prickle of beard, weaving her hands through his hair and keeping him there.

But he must pull himself upward, seize her in a searing kiss as if that will abate his want rather than enflame it further. He could kiss her for hours and lay in a bank of her arms for hours, and that is how he would have the world watch. The world would watch them kiss, as if they haven’t already, as if they’re love hasn’t been discussed and analyzed like scripture. If they are scripture, they should worship.

“If I do not have you now,” Lydia says, “I will cease to exist.”

“You must not say that.” On that matter, he’s firm.

“Then you must have me. That is that.”

First, he plants a kiss against her cheek. Then his lips linger against the corner of her mouth. His hand under her chin, their eyes meet. The shocking intimacy never overwhelms anymore. It’s quite like their kiss.

The kisses still overwhelm.

“You have me,” he promised.

He holds her tighter. He’s never going to fall in love again.

[venomous-spade]

Hm. I wonder if they still require marriage counseling before you get a certificate.

We've really resolved everything with each other, but I could probably still benefit from talking to a professional about our history.

We've gone through everything together, we've forgiven each other, but I'm not a counselor so maybe an outside perspective would be a good idea. I'm pretty well-prepared in life, and I want to make sure we have visited every facet of our history and emotional welfare before we embark on our next journey together.

No loose ends.

There really isn't anything that can be said which would make me have doubt, we've both decided to fight for this tooth and claw. It's more a matter of personal comfort, going forward. If there's anything we haven't said yet, maybe questions from a third-party could enlighten us.

I've been a pretty big advocate for therapy these past few years, I've gone a number of times, multiple reasons, for a few months in different years. Sometimes just having someone there to ask the right questions is all you need for personal growth.

The first few weeks he and I got back together, all we did was talk. A lot of personal admissions, a lot of sharing perspectives, even while we were dating before we didn't always share how we felt- so we did.

For hours, and hours, and hours.

We cried, laughed, sat in silence at times.

We even drank together at some points, it was a lot of fun. Those first weeks were intense.

I guess that's why it's funny to me that so many people want to bring up the past now. Because we're over it. We were both wrong to each other in some ways, and we're not above admitting that. We've talked about it at length.

There was a lot of hurt and heartbreak, and there are days where it is still difficult and feels very present. The difference is that now I share how I'm feeling with him, and we address it together. I used to never do that. Back then, I would feel how I was feeling completely by myself and letting anyone in made me feel physically ill. It just wasn't something I could do.

But yeah. Things have been incredible.

When I need something, I tell him. When he needs something, he tells me. We're open in a way I wish we could have been before.

We've never actually had an argument while together. A couple of times we gave the silent treatment, but we agree we should have argued. When you argue, there's communication.

So we're going to argue. We're going to laugh. We're going to love each other every day. We're going to move forward, instead of looking back. We're working for a brighter future and a better life.

In terms of our relationship, we've lived a thousand lifetimes, and we still have forever.

That's where we are.

[witchthewriter]

Can I request a level 3 ship for a male merlin character, my liege? Also can you answer this privately or through dm!

Name: Hareem, she/her.

Appearance: I'm 5'0", pale skinned and brown eyed. with long dark brown hair that goes past my waist which I usually wear in a braid.

Personality: I'm an INFP who's always daydreaming and I'm a total girly girl! My 2 dreams are to become a famous yet mysterious writer and poet, and to get married and have a girly wedding. I'm a homebody and can find group settings overwhelming, I'm the person at parties who stays by the wall with my fellow introverts. I'm studying communications and find how people write, speak, and communicate fascinating, and people say I'm a good writer and communicater. I can be pretty sensitive, and I'm very pro woman. I'm trying to become more productive, independent, and brave, but I'm also a big advocate for people relaxing and not stressing over work.

Likes:

Luxurious Haircare Products

Perfume! Fragrances! I'm a constant bath and body works lurker and my vanity is littered with Fragrances! Smelling good all day is a priority of mine.

Talking about art/media

Daydreaming- un underrated and healthy hobby indeed. People should daydream more often!

Weddings! Attending weddings, helping set them up, seeing friends and family!

Dislikes:

Hustle Culture, Girlboss Culture, Beauty Standards, anything that sets an impossible standard that makes people feel bad about themselves

Strict "pull yourself up from your bootstraps people", I don't work well with those people and respond well to harsh criticism

People who jump straight to anger without communicating first.

Want to be shipped? Here be the instructions 🦋

Hello, my love! You are literally such a gorgeous person omg 🌻

𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧

𝐷𝑒𝑠𝑐𝑟𝑖𝑝𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛

I ship you with Gwaine! He absolutely adores you. Like you would be the PERFECT couple!!!!!!!

𝐻𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑛𝑠

・Oh my god so many flowers, he'll get you a bouquet every single day, or at least a few if he can't find/steal any 🌷🌻🌼

・You would be totally swept away by his charms (I would be too)

・HE LOVES YOUR LAUGH SO MUCH THAT HE WOULD THROW HIMSELF OFF A WALL IF THAT MEANT HE COULD HEAR IT

・Denying his advances for a while because you want to see how far he would go to get your attention (he literally has no limits btw)

・He would protect you with his life; never wants you to feel unsafe around him as well

・Loves hearing you talk about anything and everything. Especially your interests, the absolute smile that forms on his face makes you breathless

・Relationship tropes/dynamics: ♡ 'Overthinking + Not thinking at all' ♡ 'Slowly learning to love and be loved and that they deserve happiness + that happiness who shares the same/similar trauma and offers support' ♡ 'Loving each other with such intensity that you cannot help kissing & touching one another' ♡ 'Flirt + Absolute blushing wreck'

𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑓𝑎𝑣𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢

Your kindness and imagination. There are a lot of people who are close-minded; they can't see beyond what's in front of them. But you can see so many worlds at once; real and completely made-up.

𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑏𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑓𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑑

You and Merlin would get on so well!!! You both have the same personality type of INFP. I think he would have a crush on you when you first met, and there was a bit of a romance starting to form. But you decided it would be better if you were friends (too similar in personality).

You would totally talk to him about guys and he would love the gossip!

You'd also be great friends with Guinevere and Morgana (before ... you know ...) you'd feel her betrayal so harshly.

[newstfionline]

Saturday, July 16, 2022

There’s a massive housing shortage across the U.S. (NPR) Danielle and Colin Lloyd spent the past year trying to buy a house in Atlanta, which went about as you’d expect these days. “There is just nothing in this whole area, just nothing,” says Danielle. The couple was looking for a place with at least a small yard and space for their three young kids. Meanwhile, their landlord was about to raise their rent by $450 a month, which also was caused by the same problem—not enough homes to rent or buy. Home prices are up more than 30% over the past couple of years, making homeownership unaffordable for millions of Americans. Rents are rising sharply too. The biggest culprit is this historic housing shortage. Strong demand and low supply mean higher prices. Part of the problem goes back to the last housing crash, which happened around 2008. After that, many homebuilders went out of business, and economists say we didn’t build enough for a decade.

A broken child care system (NPR) Child care provider Damaris Mejia is about to get the biggest pay raise of her life, starting this summer: the District of Columbia will send her and her co-teachers each a big check, between $10,000 and $14,000. At last, “I will have happy teachers!” she says, laughing. It’s part of a broader push—made more urgent by the pandemic—as D.C. and dozens of states try different ways to fix a child care system that is badly broken. Wherever the money comes from, advocates across the country say something must be done to ease the fundamental challenge of providing care families can afford, while allowing providers to earn a living. For years, families and providers have struggled with a system the U.S. Treasury Department calls a market failure. President Biden proposed a major long term investment to raise the wages of child care providers, and make it affordable or even free for working families. But that plan remains sidelined in Congress. “Our early learning system is in a really fragile state,” says Kimberly Perry, executive director of the advocacy group DC Action.

The military relies on advanced semiconductors. The U.S. doesn’t make any. (NYT) The most advanced category of mass-produced semiconductors—used in smartphones, military technology and much more—is known as 5 nm. A single company in Taiwan, known as TSMC, makes about 90 percent of them. U.S. factories make none. The U.S.’s struggles to keep pace in semiconductor manufacturing have already had economic downsides: Many jobs in the industry pay more than $100,000 a year, and the U.S. has lost out on them. Longer term, the situation also has the potential to cause a national security crisis: If China were to invade Taiwan and cut off exports of semiconductors, the American military would be at risk of being overmatched by its main rival for global supremacy. For these reasons, a bipartisan group of senators and the Biden administration negotiated a bill last summer that included $52 billion to jump-start the domestic semiconductor industry. But the House andthe Senate can’t agree on the bill. The standoff has become another example of dysfunctional congressional politics weakening the U.S.’s global standing.

988 Hotline Launches Those seeking support during a mental health or emotional crisis may dial 988 to connect to a nationwide support network beginning tomorrow. The transition to a simplified three-digit number is meant to increase access to the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline and will operate similar to 911. The move was facilitated by almost $300M in federal funding to both expand telephone infrastructure and increase call center staff. Via the network, trained counselors at more than 180 centers will be available over phone, text, or chat—users may call on behalf of themselves or others. The current 10-digit number has received more than 20 million calls since it was launched in 2005. Suicide was one of the three leading causes of death in the US for those between 10 and 24 years of age in 2020 and claimed nearly 46,000 lives that year—almost double the number of homicides.

Russian missiles kill at least 23 in Ukraine, wound over 100 (AP/1440) Russian missiles struck a city in central Ukraine on Thursday, killing at least 23 people and wounding more than 100 others far from the front lines, Ukrainian authorities said. Ukraine’s president accused Russia of deliberately targeting civilians in locations without military value. Officials said Kalibr cruise missiles fired from a Russian ship in the Black Sea damaged a medical clinic, offices, stores and residential buildings in Vinnytsia, a city 268 kilometers (167 miles) southwest of the capital, Kyiv. innytsia, a city with a prewar population of 370,000, has seen a flood of refugees from the war-torn east since the start of the war. Russia has not confirmed the attack, though military officials reportedly claimed the building was targeted for harboring “Ukrainian Nazis.” The UN reports nearly 5,000 civilians have been killed in the conflict, though some estimates say the number is far higher.

Pakistan nears IMF deal (Foreign Policy) If it weren’t for Sri Lanka and Afghanistan, Pakistan would be suffering South Asia’s worst economic crisis. Heavily indebted and grappling with rapidly dwindling foreign reserves, it faces similar problems to Sri Lanka, though not as acute. This week brought good news: Islamabad has reached an agreement with the IMF for a new funding package. In recent weeks it has taken the steps the IMF would want prior to reaching a deal: It released an austerity budget and raised electricity tariffs and gas prices. The general population, already hammered by high prices, won’t be pleased about having to bear the brunt of additional austerity spending necessitated by the IMF deal.

Wickremesinghe becomes interim Sri Lankan president (AP) Prime Minister Ranil Wickremesinghe was sworn in as Sri Lanka’s interim president Friday until Parliament elects a successor to Gotabaya Rajapaksa, who resigned after mass protests over the country’s economic collapse forced him from office. Wickremesinghe in a televised statement said that in his short term, he will initiate steps to change the constitution to clip presidential powers and strengthen Parliament. He also said he will restore law and order and take legal action against “insurgents.” Referring to clashes near Parliament on Wednesday night when many soldiers were reportedly injured, Wickremesinghe said true protesters will not get involved in such actions. Protesters who had occupied government buildings retreated Thursday, restoring a tenuous calm in the capital, Colombo. But with the political opposition in Parliament fractured, a solution to Sri Lanka’s many woes seemed no closer. The nation is seeking help from the International Monetary Fund and other creditors, but its finances are so poor that even obtaining a bailout has proven difficult, Wickremesinghe recently said.

China’s economy shrinks 2.6% during virus shutdowns (AP) China’s economy contracted in the three months ending in June compared with the previous quarter after Shanghai and other cities shut down to fight coronavirus outbreaks, but the government said a “stable recovery” is under way after businesses reopened. The world’s second-largest economy shrank by 2.6%, down from the January-March period’s already weak 1.4%, official data showed Friday. Anti-virus controls shut down Shanghai, site of the world’s busiest port, and other industrial centers starting in late March, fueling concerns global trade and manufacturing might be disrupted. Millions of families were confined to their homes, depressing consumer spending.

Biden arrives in Bethlehem for Abbas meeting (AP) President Joe Biden has arrived in the biblical town of Bethlehem in the occupied West Bank for talks with Palestinian President Mahmoud Abbas. The brief meeting with the Palestinian leader comes after two days of nonstop talks with Israeli leaders. Biden is then to continue to Saudi Arabia for talks with Arab leaders. While voicing support for a Palestinian state, Biden is not expected to float any new diplomatic initiatives during his visit. Palestinian officials have expressed disappointment over the U.S. inability to restart peace talks. On his way from Jerusalem, Biden’s motorcade passed by a billboard posted by an Israeli human rights group saying, “Mr. President, this is apartheid.” Human rights groups say Israel’s treatment amounts to apartheid. Israel rejects the allegation as an attack on its legitimacy.

Biden heads to Saudi Arabia (Reuters/Foreign Policy) President Joe Biden will discuss energy supply, human rights, and security cooperation in Saudi Arabia on Friday. Biden famously pledged to make Saudi Arabia “a pariah” during a campaign debate, and took some of that energy into office: He declassified a U.S. intelligence report linking Mohammed bin Salman to the killing of Saudi dissident Jamal Khashoggi, froze U.S. offensive arms sales to the kingdom (for now), declared an end to U.S. support for Saudi operations in the war in Yemen and—much to the crown prince’s annoyance—has only dealt with King Salman, the current head of state if only in name. Mohammed bin Salman for his part has not tried too hard to cozy up to a man he seems to have wished had lost the 2020 election. He has reportedly snubbed Biden’s calls, shouted at U.S. National Security Advisor Jake Sullivan, and (so far) refused Biden’s pleas to pump more oil to help bring down prices. He’s also more than hedged his bets on U.S. politics: The fund he oversees has invested $2 billion in a company run by Jared Kushner, Trump’s son-in-law. So if there is no love lost between the two men, today will show how much the crown prince wants to invest in the relationship.

[leophnyx]

Hello! For any passerbys able to find this blog and curious about what's happened to it, there's been a few changes rolled out. We freshened up the blog and put a new introduction up. We also soft blocked a couple of people, if that's you feel free to refollow if our posts still appeal to you! If you're wondering why we did all these changes, it was for our safety. We wanted to be ourselves here, and we know many hate people like us, so we might as well spare each other the conflict and get rid of any possible riffraff.

Read on if you want to know more! P-shifting and more below this cut, please read everything if you want to know what to expect.

Opening Up

Although we identify as vakalomorphs, we acknowledge that we're physical shifter-adjacent or straight up p-shifters depending on who you ask. This is not a new discovery; we've always known about this and have been hiding it for years (so yes, that big spat with the p-shifting cult was p-shifter vs. p-shifter); our earlier writings reflect as much.

Getting Some Distance

It is very stressful for us to be around the otherkin community, due to their behavior in the past- the community is very antagonistic towards anybody who questions the status quo, and isn't actually human. We've seen otherkin get made fun of for being open about themselves, having fun or otherwise not treating the experience like an "oh so serious" thing you must carry within your soul 24/7. We've seen otherkin ignored or scorned for defending themselves from attackers in nonhuman ways. We've seen otherkin get harassed by other otherkin for experiencing species dysphoria and having the gall to talk about it or look for a solution.

So who are we, p-shifters, to try and help things? But we try, mainly because...we were told that we weren't really real if we weren't otherkin. In the community you were either otherkin or non-kin, and if you were nonkin you were human and had no nonhumanity to yourself. If you weren't otherkin you were a p-shifter and to be avoided, and so there was no winning that battle; we had to pretend to be otherkin when around otherkin to survive around them.

And we were also told that we wouldn't be able to survive in society if we weren't behaving human, if we didn't do as they said and focus on science and deny our physical bodies. Dysfunction doesn't come naturally to us, and so in order for us to feel like otherkin we have to literally deny our bodies, and make ourselves miserable in the process. Living like a human literally nearly killed us-we have an immune disorder that only gets better when we- surprise, surprise-live like an animal (our version of it, anyway). So we languished for several years specifically because of what otherkin told us.

We'd bounce between the otherkin and p-shifter community, and eventually settled for p-shifters. P-shifters got us completely, otherkin did not, and every time we tried to relate to one we'd feel even more alienated. We were either too functional for them (we got shat on for not hating ourselves and lacking uncontrollable shifts) or too fluffy for them (for knowing what we looked like as our species, for having supernatural aspects to our being) and eventually we'd drift from their company. Otherkin were weirdly obsessed with getting validation from strangers, p-shifters couldn't care less. Therians felt that p-shifting was invalid but zoophilia was valid, p-shifters adamantly hated zoophiles and anybody advocating for such was banned or laughed off the forum. For anybody with an ounce of common sense p-shifters seemed reasonable to be around, and more down to earth.

Lycanthropy and Reality

Otherkin typically tend to tentatively accept clinical lycanthropes in the community, sometimes with stipulations such as expecting the lycanthrope to be diagnosed or seeking medical help. While we don't have any issue with this, the constant focus on clinical lycanthropy (and the accusations of such towards anybody who even dares think about p-shifting) impedes us talking about our experiences, and keeps us away from the community. Our experiences are not on the clinical side, because by and large we're not distressed by what we go through. We like becoming animals, turning into strange beasts, getting psychic premonitions and experiencing the supernatural. This isn't distressing or something we're looking to cure, but an amazing part of our lives.

But if you're not clinical, you're a real shifter to a lot of people, and likely to get run out of the spaces you're in if people find out, or scorned and made fun of. Even plurals could be a bit mean with this; many plurals are otherkin or non-physical nonhumans, and many don't care for shift claimers either. Thus, we kept ourselves silent and threw our lot in with physical shifters, who seem to get that not everything needs a mental health diagnosis. Experiencing p-shifting should not automatically be seen as a problem that should be medicated or talked away, and those of us who do experience it should be able to talk about it without being pathologized and made to feel ashamed of something we have pride in.

Coming to a Head

Last year, after so much stress from trying to figure out where we fell I (Soul) finally managed to express myself fully and manifest, as I should have. Although the experience was frightening, I and the others managed to gain so much from it, including our realization of our vakalomorphy, and several other skills. I began to grow as a person, and actually achieve good functioning for the first time in years.

We began to distance ourselves from otherkin, knowing better now. Everything we had done had been for naught; there was never any benefit to us and their claims often impeded us. We were made to feel as if we were nothing unless we were identifying with otherkin beliefs; we felt as if we could help the community even though we were shifters and the exact thing they hated. We encountered abuse and toxicity and a lot of the community tried to pass that on to us. Even now, we still feel a lot a fear regarding otherkin and their beliefs, since a lot of them did us no good.

We have mostly moved on from that time, though. We're doing well, we have "defied the odds" set by otherkin in that nobody has died or been killed by us identifying as physically nonhuman/other than our bodies, and we've been able to get an education and survive. After asserting ourselves, many of our earlier problems (caused by holding back) vanished, and we became happier as well as more functional, compared even to some of those same people. If anything has held us back and prevented us from doing well in society, it has not been our vakalomorphy, but those insisting we were monsters for not deferring to their beliefs.

We don't regret our time with the physical shifters. We got help there, we found friendship and family there, and we found people who really understood us. We feel safer there than in any other community, even with the occasional cultists and weirdos there. We're aware our experiences are not universal, but for us the p-shifting community was a lifeline when nobody else's claims made sense.

To Greener Pastures

We will be around. There are things we want to do here, and we do want to make use of this space to find others with similar experiences and interests.

We will be keeping our distance from many of the alterhuman communities. We don't want any drama from them, plus we can't sync with a good number of their claims. The only exception to this will be the plural community, as this is where we call home.

We'll be finding our own way and our own path. We're not otherkin, so we won't hold the same taboos and won't refrain from (consensual and healthy) interactions with p-shifters and others. We don't plan to restrict ourselves and our interactions here, as we once felt we had to to avoid conflict. We will be ourselves here, and won't be afraid to state our viewpoints.

This is our space, after all. If it interests you, welcome aboard.

[nerdychick13]

Greetings from the villa! Finesse is back with another update.

Toby arrived in the villa today. He’s very fit and as much as I wanted him to sweep Grace off her feet, he’s taken more to Amy. To my great surprise (just kidding, I saw this coming), my sister’s head turned from Ozzy as soon as Toby’s arrival was announced. I enjoyed my speed date with him. Ozzy got proper jealous actually. It even led to Ozzy & Grace officially ending their relationship! He even pulled me aside to tell me he wants to be the one walking out of the villa with me. Things are really looking up for us. However, the weirdest thing happened to me. Marshall said he has feelings for me! I gagged. I told him I was not interested him and never would choose him in a coupling. Harsh? Maybe but he needed to get the message.

We had the biggest challenge of the summer: Snog, Marry, Pie! I got snogged by Flo. Chloe and Ozzy asked to marry me. And I got pied by Jamal and Roberto. For my snog I chose to snog Chloe, marry Ozzy, and pie Amelia. She barely acknowledged why I pied her so let me make it clear: she keeps chasing all the men I’m interested in. When she can’t get to them (like Ozzy), she goes for a close substitute (like Marshall). She hasn’t told me the full truth about Zeph and I don’t know if I can believe what she’s told me. She took it well, all things considered. Marshall and Ozzy pied each other and squashed the beef. I guess Amy should look into family counseling (thank you, I laughed at that too).

I spoke to Grace and it’s official: she and Ozzy are over. She’s even given us the green light to crack on! Ozzy and made the most of the shower after Snog, Marry, Pie. We started off washing each other but it got pretty steamy. Yes, that’s right. Ozzy and I went all the way. We both agreed that it was worth the wait. We’re going to choose each other at the next recoupling. I’m so ready to be official with Ozzy.

Then in the evening we had to vote on a girl and boy to dump. The girls voted for a boy and the boys voted for a girl. Unfortunately, I told one of the boys to vote for Flo. As much as I like her, I did tell Chloe I wanted us to stay casual after Casa Amor. However, I told Roberto to tell Flo how he feels about her. He’s got a crush on her and they’d make the cutest couple! Jamal advocated for Flo to stay but also wanted to vote me off the island! How dare he! As if he didn’t forget kissing Amy her first date in the villa. Well, I didn’t stoop to his level. I actually said Marshall should get voted off. However he said he’d hate for me to get dumped because he’ll always wonder if we could’ve become a couple. Yeah, he’s that delusional. In the end, we each voted privately. Flo and Jamal were voted off. Flo seemed heartbroken, as were we all. However, Jamal threw a fit that was totally out of character! He flew off the handle insisting he’s not just an OG but “the OG.” In the end, he did leave. I hate that it ended this way but c’est la vie. The final recoupling is right around the corner. Next time you hear from me, Fozzy will be an official ship in the villa!

Until next time lovelies!

xoxo,

Finesse

[tidesages]

<<stranding shield>>

(a tale for bianca gilligan)

was there nothing but the hush of night? had a treasure, but i don't know where did you flee from what was said and seen? yes, the good was not without the bad raise your sword and shield

“So all that time… no letters, no goodbye note, no word from friends… you were out getting your teeth kicked in and guts pulled out? We thought you were dead! Not a single peep out of you except seven years later to tell me you nearly died and want to make amends!”

Eleanor Gilligan paced the workshop, idly picking up tools and setting them down in different places as she walked. She barely spared a glance for her sister, sitting down uncomfortably on a stool two sizes too small for her near the door. “Ma had a heart attack about six months after you left, and was never the same since. She passed a couple years ago in her sleep. Pa’s been puttering around back in Bridgeport supposedly retired, but you know there’s no such thing as retiring in this economy. Does he even know you’re back?”

This made Bianca shift in place, nearly overturn the stool, and plant her feet firmly on the floor. Her muttered “No,” to the shimmering metal dust kicked off another tirade.

“So he doesn’t know either! After he advocated for you! And you threw it all away anyways… are you back, truly? Really?” She rounded on Bianca, standing tall with burly arms crossed. Even after all this time, Bianca could tell, her sister had barely changed. Sure, there were some tiny creases here and there where laugh lines would eventually deepen, and her similarly flaxen hair had grown out to the point where it was tucked in a bun. But Nell had grown into herself, holding onto those traits she’d possessed and becoming more of them as time went on. She was confident in her craft, sure of herself as a person, no longer the eager-to-please artisan she’d been when they’d last parted.

While Bianca knew the answer to the question, she equally knew that Nell wouldn’t appreciate it. “Look–“ At the artisan’s instantly darkening face, she raised her right hand in a halting motion. “Just listen, okay? I’ve got… responsibilities.” The word was bitter in her mouth. “I have people I swore to protect. And I literally just got healed after nearly dying for that, right?! I can’t just, go back on my word. Not now, after we lost people we can’t afford to lose.”

This drew a quick, clipped reply. “What about your responsibilities to us?” Both sisters scowled in identical motions, brown eyes meeting hazel in a silent battle of shame. “You got to abandon responsibilities to care for Ma, and now you’ve picked this group of people to care for instead? I don’t know why we didn’t matter enough for you.” Bianca broke the staring match first, gaze dropping to the floor while Nell moved to pick up a hammer and store it on a hook. “Look, I know you decided to go off and make new friends and family. Doesn’t mean it hasn’t sucked for us, Bee.”

Oof. That elicited an actual wince from the mercenary. She had to reach for her newly-healed ribs and lightly press on them to make sure nothing had cracked again. “I’m sorry.” The words burned all the way up her throat, and dropped into the air to sink like a stone. “I want to… to keep in touch. And help send Pa some funds to keep him going.”

Nell turned to lean her hip against a counter, letting it hold her steady as she eyed her younger sister. The two of them had always looked much alike when younger, though Bianca had kept their father’s more wiry frame at six feet of height, while Nell had been built more solidly like their mother and remained two inches taller. While Bianca had filled out with muscle since then, the scars that littered her body and cut across her cheek spoke of hard years with little care for her future. Not to mention the tentacles curled around each other in place of a left arm, which had certainly not existed prior.

Perhaps what Bianca would have said, if the roles were swapped, was that sorry wasn’t good enough. She knew it was true, that her reappearance wasn’t enough to make up for the hardship and pain that her absence had wrought. She had certainly seen the hurt in Nell’s eyes, and knew that whatever she said wouldn’t fix it. Could never fix it, not since she had to go back. Why would she deserve to be forgiven when she never spared a thought for her family?

She rested her mismatched arms on her knees and tangled the ends of her tentacles between her fingers. It was so easy to dwell on what her actions deserved that she almost missed her sister’s answer. “Well, it’s not like things would be fixed by turning you away.” Blinking, Bianca glanced back up to catch the familiar wry grin on Nell’s face. “We’ve already spent long enough separated, turning you away now would just leave us where we were before. Just, don’t expect things to be the same, aye?”

“Aye, of course.” Standing, she ruffled her hair back with her tentacle tips, and missed Nell coming in until the tight hug made her flinch. Bianca maneuvered to give her ribs space and threw her arms around her sister. “Careful, careful. Now, while we’re here, tell me how you’ve been?”

That got a laugh from Nell, who patted her back and stepped back, leaving the scent of cut metal and oil behind. “Oh, you know! Got my mastery—so that’s Master Gilligan to you, sister—and I’ve been making a fair amount of limbs. Mostly legs, though, and I’ve had some interesting builds! Business is fairly booming, and this place has some good customers. Say, if you aren’t attached to those tentacles I’ve got a special deal with the Concordia medics… we could get rid of it and I could design a prosthetic that would be better than new. What d’you think?” She gestured to Bianca’s left arm, the tentacles of which immediately curled in silent protest.

“Er, no thanks. After all the trouble I went through to get it, I’m not going to lose it just yet. Plus, it’s kind of grown on me.” All other answers that could have explained her feelings more were put aside for a shitty pun, and it was worth it to see Nell smile again. “I’d heard you’ve been doing legs! It sounds like things are booming.”

With a wave of her hand, the artificer beckoned her toward the door leading into the house proper. “Suit yourself, but know I’ve got your back if you need a proper limb. Now, tell me about this group. They made you a council member? Got anyone special back home?”

Bianca grimaced, rubbing at the back of her neck as she followed. The memory of ginger curls crossed her mind in a guilty flash. “Well…”

——————

The cracking of the obelisk had heralded screams, wails, moans, gnashing of teeth, yes, of course. It hadn’t been what Bianca had expected, but at least she wasn’t writhing on the ground or being sucked into an imploding rift like most of her companions were. She was still on her feet, and that meant she could run.

At this point, she’d been accustomed to living ready to move on at any time, and this had to be the same. Even with a new arm, she could still make a break for it before the skies cleared up fully from their riotously purple gleam, and be on a ship in a flash. She got up from where she’d fallen into the sand, winced at the new slice taken from her cheek minutes prior, and dodged the fall of an enormous… something, being swallowed by the desert. A baleful purple claw clacked and twitched as she ran.

The armor she wore, most of what she had, was too incriminating. If she was caught like this then she’d be executed in a flash, no matter where she went. So her first order of action was to find a spot out of the way. It only took a couple of minutes before she found a closed tomb against a hill, one she’d known was empty prior, and struggled to open the door. It wasn’t budging, and she thrust the tip of her shield into the small crack on the side to start levering it before a touch to her arm made her back up and reach for her blade.

“Lass!” Now there was a face she hadn’t expected. The dwarf that stood at the entrance swayed slightly, the Eye of N’Zoth on his forehead leaking dark fluid down the side of his hooked nose. “Ye won’t open it that way. Pull the shield out, an’ we’ll slide it gently out. But whatever ye want from it, best make it quick.”

How long had it taken Khudron to open the door? Not long, in the grand scheme of things, but it melded to a blur in Bianca’s memory. Once it stood open into darkness, she began to strip all identifying parts of her armor and pack. The faceplate of her helm was torn off, with the Eye emblazoned on it battered and bent. Insignias and brooches and buckled, added to by Khudron. Wastewander coins were thrown into a corner with a clatter, and she set two of their cloaks aside for afterward. All she left were the basics, and she finally set the shield atop the small pile. Its scalloped edges kept it from rolling off, and the wandering eye was still and dull.

As she pushed the door back shut, with the inexorable grind of stone over their past, she turned to glance at Khudron. The dwarf gave her a tired smile and thumbs up, then wrapped the sandy cloak around his shoulders and over his head. At least she wasn’t running alone.

——————

Something about deserts was timeless, Bianca thought grimly as she stepped through the portal into whipping sands. The place felt exactly the same as it had the first day she and her mercenary company had contracted here, and she had no doubt that it would have the same dangers as well.

The thought made her adjust her cloak and scarf to cover more of her face and arm, even though her goggles were a good disguise. If any Wastewanders saw traces of cultist leanings, she’d still be kill on sight.

Once, that thought would have made her grin at the challenge. Now, though, she only sighed into the layers of cloth and trudged onwards. She had been given six hours to come back before the portal closed, and she intended to find that tomb well before time ran out and then leave. The only thing left in Uldum was memories, and ones that stung worse than the inhabitants.

She still knew the lay of the land, even with the drastically-shifting hills and mountains of sand, and it took about an hour to get to the same tomb…

…Of course, it was mostly buried at this point. Fortunately Bianca had thought to bring a shovel, and managed to clear out the door most of the way after fifteen minutes more. She was already sweating through her clothes, and had resorted to mostly shoveling with her tendril arm as its strength never flagged. Every so often, she glanced around to check for any watchers, but the desert remained bleak as always. Civilization resided in the areas closer to the water, and not out in the dunes where the mass graves of her fellow cultists lay to rot or mummify in the barren air.

Eventually, though, she’d cleared out enough sand to give the door space to open. How had Khudron done it, again? Bianca sat down and squinted at the blasted thing for a minute as she tried to sort through her memories. Even just thinking about her old friend caused a pang to tighten in her chest. At first the twinge brought with it a worry that her ribs were causing issues, but when tears began to burn in her eyes she gave a little groan.

Of course she missed the old fool. How could he have been the one to fall when it was her job to protect him? Bianca had been so certain of herself and her ability to protect the Refuge, that she’d forgotten that she had no formal combat training whatsoever. Against a fleet of trained soldiers and sages, she’d completely left their back lines uncovered. It was only thanks to unexpected aid from the outsider sages and Carcer’s last-minute intervention that had kept them from being wiped out.

She’d never gotten to say farewell to him. All she’d given was a smile and the promise to see him later as he’d herded k’thir away, and the next time she saw him he’d been cut in half. There was no catharsis in remembering who he’d been, not now while the culpability of his death was so freshly weighing on her heart.

The edges of her scarf were wet, and she took a long breath to ease the ache of grief that gnawed at her insides. The heat and dryness would soon cause those tears to evaporate, so she stood up once more and moved to the door. If she couldn’t remember how he’d opened it, she could at least remember how it had closed. Rather than on one side, it had been pulled down from top to bottom, so she wedged the tip of her shovel down below and tugged at the handle. It took some rocking, but she managed to free the bottom of the door and wedge it up a couple of feet. Then she crouched down and pushed with her tentacle arm, tugging mightily until it opened still further… enough to crack open the tomb with clear sunlight.

Sand had made its way even here, and what had been clear before was covered and dusty. Only the tip of dull metal was visible, with a steel spike shifting to a fin. Bianca’s heart flipped over in her chest as she knelt down and tugged on it, releasing at least a pound of sand to fall to the tomb floor. It looked exactly as it had prior, with the orange eye staring sightlessly up at the ceiling. The thing had moved, once, when the Master’s eye had roamed over the lands of Uldum and remained with each of his people. Now, though, it lay forever dormant.

She rapped on the dull orange surface with her knuckles. It gave a glassy ‘plink.’ From what she remembered, it was still tougher than the rest of the shield combined. Nothing would shoot her in the back with this in the way.

As she strapped the shield to her back, she didn’t have it in her to smile about the good fortune. There was too much heartache in these halls to rejoice at the scraps of memory she had left. After second thought, she also picked up a few of the old sigils and scraps from the life left behind and stowed them in her pack, to bring to the Refuge when she returned. Finally, a glimmer of sunlight from the entrance caught off a reflection from the corner. Bianca frowned and knelt down at the source, expecting it to be one of those blasted coins.

A bit of dusting revealed a small pendant with a broken chain, dull from time and the elements. Perhaps it was pewter, given how it was bent, but it showed a crude hammer backed by batlike wings. The mercenary swallowed back a lump in her throat and tucked the necklace into a pocket before standing to leave the tomb behind.

If she couldn’t forget him, at least she could carry part of him back.

[frankterranella]

A great song that celebrates the joys of couplehood

Great art makes you feel. It moves you. It can make you feel joy, or terror, or hope, or sadness. It can make you laugh; it can make you cry; it can raise goose bumps; it can make the hair stand up on the back of your neck. Great art always elicits some visceral response. That’s what makes it great. It gets us in touch with our humanity by uniting the spiritual with the physical. So when I see a play or a painting, or hear a piece of music and it brings a tear to my eye, a smile to my face, or affects me in some other physical way, I always take note, for here there is great artistry.

When I first heard the Indigo Girls a couple of decades ago, I recognized great artists. Their songs were intelligent; they spoke to the human condition. And most importantly, they touched me. For the uninitiated, the Indigo Girls are Amy Ray and Emily Saliers, two women from Georgia who have been friends since they were teenagers. Because they are lesbians (with separate partners) who have long advocated lesbian causes, they are often pigeon-holed as if their songs were relevant only to the lesbian community. Nothing could be further from the truth.

I could provide many examples of their artistry, but I want to focus on one song of theirs that never fails to leave me teary-eyed. It’s called “Power of Two.” You can watch a video of the song at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hj0yVN8pFNw. In addition to having a great tune and wonderful harmonies, it has very meaningful lyrics. The song, by Emily Saliers, is a tribute to the power and joy of long-term relationships.

The “Power of Two” starts out with a verse about a couple meeting up for a weekend road trip into the country:

Now the parking lot is empty

Everyone's gone someplace

I pick you up and in the trunk I've packed

A cooler and a 2-day suitcase

'Cause there's a place we like to drive

Way out in the country

Five miles out of the city limit we're singing

And your hand's upon my knee

Then we hear the first appearance of the fabulous chorus that tells us that all is well with the couple because they have each other and two people together are always more than the sum of their parts:

So we're okay

We're fine

Baby I'm here to stop your crying

Chase all the ghosts from your head

I'm stronger than the monster beneath your bed

Smarter than the tricks played on your heart

We'll look at them together then we'll take them apart

Adding up the total of a love that's true

Multiply life by the power of two

I have always loved the line “stronger than the monster beneath your bed” because it is evocative and rings so true. Most people have inner demons or monsters. A committed life partner helps overcome the demons. The next verse speaks to the importance of the long-term mature commitment, rather than the youthful fling than ends in tragedy:

You know the things that I am afraid of

I'm not afraid to tell

And if we ever leave a legacy

It's that we loved each other well

'Cause I've seen the shadows of so many people

Trying on the treasures of youth

But a road that fancy and fast ends in a fatal crash

And I'm glad we got off

To tell you the truth

After repeating the chorus, the song goes to a bridge about the false allure of transitory friendships, where Emily sings a line and then Amy responds to it:

All the shiny little trinkets of temptation

(make new friends)

Something new instead of something old

(but keep the old)

All you gotta do is scratch beneath the surface

(but remember what is gold)

And it's fools gold

Fools gold

(what is gold)

Fools gold

(what is gold)

This takes us to the final verse celebrating going through life with a loving partner where paradoxically, the more you’re bound to another, the more free you are:

Now we're talking about a difficult thing

And your eyes are getting wet

I took us for better and I took us for worse

Don't you ever forget it

Now the steel bars between me and a promise

Suddenly bend with ease

And the closer I'm bound in love to you

The closer I am to free

The song closes with the chorus that reminds us how important it is that a life partner is there when you need them. They’re there to “stop your crying” and to help overcome the “tricks played on your heart.”

So we're okay

We're fine

Baby I'm here to stop your crying

Chase all the ghosts from your head

I'm stronger than the monster beneath your bed

Smarter than the tricks played on your heart

We'll look at them together then we'll take them apart

Adding up the total of a love that's true

Multiply life by the power of two

This is a great piece of romantic songwriting with a wonderful message: Two is better than one. Not just twice as good, but geometrically better. It urges us all to find a true love and “multiply life by the power of two.”