#i most likely am a maladaptive daydreamer

[aura-dragonfly]

I *know* many disagree with saying you have something without being diagnosed. So far, I've only done it with autism. I've done lots of research, and I relate so much to it, especially how females are said to present, and I haven't been able to afford it. But I really think I'm also might have MaDD sometimes. At the very least, I could be a paragenic median system. It's probably why I can so easily become the characters I create and daydream about. Maybe also there is a small amount or facet of me in each of my characters. I daydream up characters and outlines and plot and story, but I've never been able to finish anything I've written. This could also be why sometimes I question if I'm a system or not too. Sometimes, it just goes away and like something I'm otherkin of goes away and gets replaced by something else, and I get all imposter syndromey about otherkin. But maybe all along it's because I just become what I daydream about in my characters, and much of the time, it can change! Does that make sense? I'm like a neurogenic paragenic median.

[auraindigos-paraspace]

Part 2 of Forrestopia

[ratislatis]

"a tribe of cats" like warrior cats. its a mind palace series. they destroyed my 13-year-old warrior cats obsession

[clownsindresses]

I haven't played bdg3 (I really want to but I'm broke AF), but seeing posts about it makes my little feral clown brain go wild, because it inspired me to start writing a giant ass choos- your-own-adventure while I already have at LEAST 10 other creative projects I could be working on

someone save me

[time-woods]

these are the works of a mad man- these 2 literally make me feel insane evrytime i draw them- anyways i am now going to share my autism analysis of the 2 of them 

I feel the need to shout this from the rooftops but- Kim is most definitely a low empathy autistic with high emotional understanding/awareness !! Like- he doesn’t pick up on cues but he still can figure out emotional tones of certain situations!!(has a bit of a hard time expressing tone/ emotion through actions and expressions so he typically uses his words instead) And he has no internal dialog!! Along with not being able to picture things in his mind!! (aphantasia) (that part is pretty much cannon he practically says it))  always needs to be doing something with his hands- can’t just have them by his side,(too open, too vulnerable- yes this is the fight or flight in me speaking) is either holding his hands in front of himself or behind his back, or writing in his notebook, along with checking the time on his watch or fiddling with it. Looks down when walking most of the time (esp on a scene) but it’s just become a general habit- forgets he has to make eye contact- typically more invested in writing down whatever he’s realized in his notes to care (he is so me)

 And Harry is the opposite in that department- (how I play his character at least) high empathy autistic- good intentions but can read the mood wrong at times! Very outwardly expressive- Gots a whole narrator in his head I also think he’s got a pretty good imagination. This mf can’t stand still to safe his life on god he’s got to b moving every 5 seconds in order to not catch on fire. also most likely has maladaptive daydreaming? a bit upsetting but god does it work well for his whole character. Mf is constantly stretching- probably has extremely tensed muscles, shoulders n stuff (th stress). This bich would and probably has apologized or cursed out a chair for accidentally bumping into it. Eye contact is a no go- mostly cause he’s looking around the room already moving on to the next thing or just straight up more interested abt the thing behind you to care about maintaining eye contact

(I heart viewing characters through an autistic lens and either projecting or scrutinizing every single one of their mannerisms)

[onceonafullmoon]

Guessing Game

Rin x GN!Reader

Warning: slight possesive behavior from Rin, not severe but enough to note. Reader is GN but is noted to wear stockings. Reader is a foreigner in Japan. fun fact this was just a mess of dialogue I daydreamed before I actually decided to refine it, maladaptive daydreaming come through 💪🏽💪🏽!!

“…because…stockings are… out of fashion?” You question more than answer before lighting up at your new idea. “Oh that’s why! My fashion choices suck!” He looked distinctly like he wanted to bash his head into the wall, and even with the way he was avoiding answering you, you couldn’t help but feel sympathetic.

“You can’t come to my games.” Rin says abruptly, causing you to pause, your ramblings of all the things you wanted to do now that you’re back in Japan cut off.

“What?” You ask before sitting up on the couch, straightening up to look at him. “Why?”

“You—” He cuts himself off, seemingly trying to find the right words. 

“You’re too distracting.” He eventually settles on, hands fiddling with each other in an uncharacteristic show of nerves that has you furrowing your brows.

“As if!” You scoff. “ How?”

He stares at you, trying to gauge if you’re serious or not. 

“…You seriously don’t know?” He asks after a  bit.

“Oh come on, I mean I’m annoying, but I’m not that annoying, like I’d at least have common decency to shut up during a game.” You say, knowing of your penchant to ramble.

“That’s not why.”

“Oh, then it’s ‘cause I’m a foreigner? I’m sure that’s a little distracting, but too distracting either. I mean, even the most xenophobic person there would stare like… I dunno, 5 minutes before getting over it.” You say, remembering the looks you got when you first moved in middle school.

“No— that’s not it either.” He says, looking more and more put out as you continue.

“Shit, is it my mannerisms then? Like, do I come off as an asshole or something? Or like, a weirdo? I mean, I am pretty weird, but I don’t think that’s obvious at first glance so…”

“‘You ever think it’s because of your looks?” He asks finally, his impatience reaching an all time high.

“Pfft— okay sure, I’m not that ugly.” You laugh, looking at him, only to stop laughing when you see a deadpan look on his face.

“…”

“…”

“…”

“Oh my god, am I?!” You gasp, looking scandalized.

“I didn’t think I was like a model or anything, but I didn’t think I was below average in the looks department either…” You start to ramble, feeling a pit form in your stomach. “I mean Jesus, I know the beauty standards here are harsh, but I didn’t know they were this harsh.”

“Who the fuck told you that you were ugly?” Rin finally asks, his expression equal parts annoyed, angry and confused.

“No one!” You protest, before pointing an accusing finger at him. “It’s just cuz I was joking and saying “I’m not that ugly am I?” And then you gave me your patented ‘(Name) are you an idiot?’ stare, so I just assumed you meant that I was… now that I think about it you probably meant that I was an idiot for thinking that was the reason…”

“You are an idiot.” He sighs, relaxing slightly into the couch with the knowledge that he doesn’t have to fist fight someone. 

(And he would, if it was for you.)

“So that’s the reason? Cause I also feel that’s not obvious at first glance, but I do space out sometimes…” You trail off before looking at him, rolling your eyes as you see his exasperated face. 

“Why are you face palming?” You pout. “If you would just answer my question instead of making me play a guessing game we wouldn’t be in this situation!”

“(Name)...” He says, finally deciding to give you a hint. “...why do you think everyone was looking at you the day you wore stockings?”

“…because…stockings are… out of fashion?” You question more than answer before lighting up at your new idea. “Oh that’s why! My fashion choices suck!”

He looked distinctly like he wanted to bash his head into the wall, and even with the way he was avoiding answering you, you couldn’t help but feel sympathetic.

“…because my fashion choices are good?”

“No, god damn it (Name), it’s because you’re pretty!” Rin finally snaps.

“…”

“…”

You stare at each other unblinkingly for a few moments, you blank faced, and him growing more and more flustered.

“…for real?” You ask, somewhat flabbergasted, before shaking your head. “Wait, no, you’re joking, okay good one, now tell me the real reason.”

“Why would I lie about something so embarrassing?” Rin says, despite not wanting to admit it.

“Okay, so I’m supposedly really pretty, but I haven’t gotten any valentines?” 

“…of course you did.”

“Yeah exactly so— wait I did? And more importantly how do you know and not me?” You ask, raising a brow in response.

“…” He averts his eyes, not wanting to answer.

“So, you’re lying?”

“No, I— I threw them away.” He admits, looking more sheepish than you’ve ever seen him.

“What?! Why? I know you reject everyone, but that doesn’t mean I have to.” You frown, despite knowing you wouldn’t have accepted any of their confessions.

“That’s the problem.” He begrudgingly says.

“Huh?”

“That you don’t have to reject everyone.”

“…” 

You stare at him, trying to comprehend his words.

“…forget it, I said too much. I should go.” Rin says, moving to get off the couch, but you pull him back with your hands grasping his.

“Wait a minute, you— you like me?!” You gasp out, looking at him with widened eyes.

“Now you use your brain?!” He scoffs more than questions, an unfamiliar blush rising on his cheeks.

“Oh fuck off, you were being purposely vague.” You say, before you switch back into your questioning. “But you… you seriously like me?”

“… I’m… fine, yes, I like you.” Rin says, looking over to see your unreadable expression.

“…”

You stare at him again.

“… I’m going now.” He says, pulling his hand free from yours,

“No— wait!” You protest, coming out of your shell shocked state. “No, I’m sorry, I was just— like— shocked, sorry— no, I mean, a good shock, like a birthday present surprise shocked.”

“…what?” Rin questions, trying to keep up with your rambling despite his years of training.

“Ah— that was very poorly worded, I mean— I like you too is what I’m trying to say.” You manage to get out, shooting him a flustered smile.

“…oh.” He gets out.

“…Okay, uh, cool.” You say.

The silence between you both drags on for a bit, until you can’t help it and you start talking again.

“So uh, what exactly is the protocol now cuz I don’t actually know what to do…”

Rin gives you a painfully fond look paired with a rare smile that makes your heart flip.

“You’re so stupid.” He says, although it sounds more like a complement than an insult with the way he sounds.

You smile despite yourself and roll your eyes. “And you’re emotionally constipated, just say I’m cute already.”

“And inflate your ego further?”

“...Says you.” You retort, before pausing briefly to speak again.

“So… Can I come to your game now?”

“No.”

You pout at his swift decline before giving him a pleading look. 

“… if I wear your jersey can I come to your game?”

“…fine.”

[bamsywrites]

Guilt (Tyrion Lannister x Reader)

paring: Tyrion x Reader; Tywin x Reader

summary: Tyrion is consumed with guilt as he sees just how his actions have affected you

word count: idk but sure as fuck not 13.k Idk where I got that number from 🤦

tags: pregnant! reader, mentions of miscarriage/infant loss, pretty fucking huge age gaps mentioned. tywin doing tywin things. angsty with some hurt/comfort. there's a lot of plot building as i want to attempt to make this into a series. pining. future friends to lovers.

AN: this is my first time writing in a loooong fucking time. I am open to constructive criticism and feedback. I have plans on making this into a series so let me know if that would interest you. this scenario has been in my maladaptive daydreams for so long lol. Please let me know how you like it!

--

Tyrion watched you from his spot overlooking the river where the women were doing the washing for the day. An older woman was showing you the best methods for getting stains out from the fabrics of sheets and clothes, you watched with a furrowed brow and genuine curiosity from your seat on a large boulder. Tyrion had noticed this was a new behavior trend of yours. You'd go to the kitchens, the stables, the rivers, all to try and lend a hand or learn. Your noble birth made it so you never had to wash your clothes or clean your rooms or make your food. He'd observed that since arriving in Mereen, you almost seemed to be trying to repent of the sin of being born a noblewoman by doing the chores and duties of those most would consider beneath someone of your birth. Not that you ever thought that way.

Tyrion's eyes drifted down to your swollen belly which you were stroking softly as you watched the woman and he scoffed with a quick swig from a flask of whatever wine he was able to get his hands on. You were nearing the end of your pregnancy, evident by your size and the waddle to which you walked. Dany had been accommodating to your state by having someone around to assist you if need be and keeping a midwife on standby for the impending birth. The queen had been more forgiving than he could have hoped for when it came to the two of you. You had given a rather convincing speech when you had arrived after fleeing Kings Landing. He could still hear the words ring in his mind.

"Your Majesty, I was but a child when your father was overthrown and family murdered. I was a child still when I was betrothed. No choice in my life has ever been my own. I was sold like cattle to the highest bidder and forced to have his children so he could in turn ship them away and form alliances with lords and kings. Everything I have done has been to protect me and my children. All I ever will do is to protect my children. I want them to live a life better than mine and from what I have seen here you would be able to provide that more than any man in Westores currently fighting for the throne. For that, you will have my loyalty."

It was well-spoken and you stood tall while you said it, but he could see the fear in your eyes. How could he blame you? A pregnant woman far from home in the territory of someone who wanted her dead simply because of who she was forced to marry. Staying in the Red Keep wouldn't have bode well for you either, his sister had never been fond of you and with the death of his father, the castle suddenly became very dangerous for you.

Tyrion understood why Tywin wanted to make an alliance with your house. Your father was lord of a southern house that was known for its impressive feats on the field of battle, no one had ever defeated House ____ on the battlefield and most were met with devastating defeats when they were on horseback. The best tacticians Westores had ever seen either came from your house or were mentored by the lords of your house. Tywin wanted that alliance and he was always looking to further his family line but Jamie had made vows and Tywin would rather die than give Tyrion any claim to Casterly Rock. That left him to marry you, which he did. You were young. Very young. He remembered how scared you looked on your wedding day as his father covered you in a robe of Lannister Red.

You'd done your duty as a wife very well. 6 years since your wedding to his father and you'd had several pregnancies and two living children - daughters much to Tywins dismay. You bore him a son named Tytos but he fell asleep one night never to wake again. Tyrion remembered that day very well, he walked into the hall to see his father holding you as you sobbed, pressing a kiss to your head and looking as vulnerable as Tyrion had ever seen him. Tywin always seemed to respect you and held some possessiveness over the fact that you were his lady wife. You were spoiled by him as was expected, always in the finest dresses and jewelry. Tywin made an example of anyone who dared to disrespect you, even if that person was the boy king himself. He seemed to value your intellect and wit, finding bragging rights in your brains and beauty. A fact that drove Ceresi mad. Though Tyrion supposed, the way Tywin treats your daughters was an even bigger slight to the Queen Regent.

Trysta and Nataria.

Tywin doted on them more than he did you. It was made known behind closed doors that Tywin would keep putting babes in your belly until you gave him an "heir and a spare" but there was a light to his eyes when his youngest daughters were around that made it known he cared for them too. There was an affection there that Tyrion did not remember his father showing Ceresi or Jamie as children. A fact confirmed by the jealousy his sister had for the two young girls, Jamie had never made a comment on it but he enjoyed the company of your daughters very much.

They were very sweet girls, with your eyes but the signature Lannister hair. Trysta was the eldest at five years old, she was smart and sassy, a combination that always brought a smile to Tyrion's face. There was nothing like watching a noble lord be put in their place by a small girl in a pink dress, knowing that they dare not comment back for fear of facing her father's wrath. Nataria was younger, still not quite speaking in full sentences yet, and always wanting to be picked up by anyone who would take her. Tyrion would never forget walking into the tower of the hand to see her sat on Tywins lap with her head nuzzled into his chest as she napped. Tywin informed Tyrion that the babe you were carrying was making you ill and the handmaids were unable to get her to stop crying. He didn't look up from the papers scattered across his desk and his voice was as stern and emotionless as it always was. It was almost alien to see it, to see how much Tywin was capable of some form of care for his children. Tywin often made the comment that his first three children were disappointments and that he was going to make sure his next turned out differently.

You had made the smart choice to send the two girls to stay with your family after Jofferys murder. Kings Landing was not safe for them and both girls adored Tyrion. You had not wanted them to witness his trial or execution or to be brought into the middle of dangerous court politics. You probably would have joined them if Tywin had allowed it. Tyrion was sad he never got to say goodbye to them. He loved them as much as they loved him, always reading books or buying trinkets for them. He missed them dearly but knew you missed them more.

Especially today. It was Nataria's second name day.

Tyrion was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of your laugh as you watched the children play in the water and their splashes of water soaking your dress and hair. He noticed that your laugh didn't quite reach your eyes and the guilt panged through him.

It's your fault. It's your fault. It's your fault.

You were distracting yourself, he realized, from the pain of what today meant. The pain of not being with your children. The pain of not knowing when you will see them again. He couldn't imagine the pain in your heart. Almost like you knew what he was thinking, your eyes locked with his and he gave you a curt nod before standing and heading away from the river.

---

Later that night he saw you again, sat in the gardens of a courtyard lit by the stars, and a few torches spread over the area. There was a piece of parchment paper in your lap and your fingers were playing with a necklace around your neck. Tyrion noticed your beauty in the light of the stars. The way the flames from the torches flicked across your features. He always knew you were beautiful but it was dawning on him that you were more than beautiful. He sometimes found the air leaving his lungs if the light hit you right. The sound of your laugh, your voice, when he heard you sing it was like the whole world stood still. It wasn't fair, he thought, that someone as kind and smart and witty as you could also be so beautiful.

The sound of a muffled sob brought him out of his thoughts and he felt that searing guilt tear threw him once more.

It's your fault. It's your fault. It's your fault.

His feet moved him through the courtyard and he sat next to you in silence. You quickly wiped at your eyes and shoved the paper, what Tyrion could now see was an old letter from your father about how your daughters were doing, into your dress. The two sat in silence for a few moments, neither knowing what to say. You'd always treated Tyrion with such respect and kindness and he'd returned the favor to you. You never let Tywin taint your view of him.

"You've been avoiding me," your voice cut through the silence.

It was true. He hadn't spoken more than a few sentences since defending you to the Queen when you were brought to her throne room. "And yet you have been watching my every move."

He nodded, eyes fixated on a particular patch of grass in the courtyard. "Always observant aren't you?" His voice was soft.

"You'd think someone of your size would be better at hiding but alas....."

Your comment made him laugh. The first laugh in a long time.

"Spying is not my strong suit, I must admit. Drinking, books, and whores are my real talents." His eyes traveled over to you and he noticed your small smile.

Your smile shouldn't cause him to feel the way he was.

The two of you sat in silence for a long while after that. It wasn't an awkward silence, neither of you seemed to know how to get the thoughts flowing through your head to form into words. There was so much to say, so much to explain. You broke first.

"I miss them," Your voice wavered and your lip trembled. "I miss them so. It feels as though my heart has been ripped out of my chest." The tears started to fall all at once, Tyrion swore he could hear them hit the ground like rain.

It's your fault. It's your fault. It's your fault

"Every time the babe inside me moves, I remember how it felt to feel them move too. I think of them from the moment I wake to the moment I sleep and then I dream of them. Are they happy? Are they safe? Where are they? When will I see them?" You rambled through the thickness of your tears, your fingers gripping tightly at the fabric of your dress.

Tyrion hesitantly grabbed your hand in his, afraid you'd hurt yourself and gave it a small squeeze.

"Your sister...Oh, your sister...she hates them. She hates me. She'll have them killed. I can't...I can't.." you choked on sob after sob

He said your name softly and moved to stand in front of you so he could look into your eyes. The tears falling down your cheeks and hitting the skirt of your dress broke his heart.

It's your fault. It's your fault. It's your fault

"Ceresi is many things. A hateful bitch is among one of her most prominent attributes. But, she is not stupid enough to wage war on your family. Her hatred for me consumes her. Last I heard they think I kidnapped you." He almost laughed bitterly at the thought. Remembering how he rushed you out of The Red Keep, it wasn't too far from the truth. "And despite even with all of that aside. Do you think Jamie would let her? Let her kill your children? Our sisters?" In truth, he had no idea what would happen but he had to hope. He had to have faith that his choice wouldn't lead to the fatalities of you and your daughters.

Your arms quickly wrapped around him and your face nuzzled into his neck. For a moment he just stood there in shock, this was the closest you'd ever been to him and he found himself enamored with how you smelt and soft you felt. But soon he ran his fingers through your hair in an attempt to soothe you. Tyrion could feel your hot tears on his shoulder and the mantra repeated in his head.

It's your fault. It's your fault. It's your fault.

"I'm so fucking sorry," He whispered into your hair. "I'm so sorry."

You pulled away and he found himself missing your warmth. He told himself it was because he wasn't used to such interaction, which wasn't a lie, but there was a stirring deep within him that he had to push down and hide. That would only bring him more shame and heartbreak and insult you further than he already has.

"All my life, my father hated me for killing my mother and for being a dwarf. He loathed my very existence. The only thing that kept me alive was my name. I was a Lannister. And then he lets me be led like a lamb to slaughter for a murder he knew I didn't commit. My only option is death or going to The Wall, there's not much difference there as people seem to think. He takes the woman I love and turns her against me, having her lie to all of Kings Landing. And then I find he's fucking her..." Tears were starting to well in his eyes now as he remembered Shae and how it felt to find her in his father's bed. "I didn't think about the consequences. Not for you or the girls until after it was done."

He remembered how the lamp light flickered across your face as you stood there, hand on your belly and mouth agape as he held the crossbow. He remembered how it felt to have the realization slap him in the face. Tywin had become fond of using you to belittle Cerasi, often saying you were more worthy to be a Lannister than she was. Cerasi was jealous of how Tywin seemed to care for and respect you. You wouldn't last long at The Red Keep. Tyrion remembered the scared look in your eyes as he took your wrist in a harsh grasp and led you through the corridors to where he was to meet Varys.

He was pulled from his memories when he could feel your fingertips lightly brush away his tears. "It's my fault," Tyrion's voice broke as he said those words to you, "and I can never express how sorry I am."

You swallowed thickly and looked at him for a moment before your eyes drifted up to the night sky. You were quiet again and this time the silence was thick and heavy. Tyrion could see your brain working hard to formulate thoughts and feelings into words.

"I was 15 when I was betrothed to Tywin," You said softly, your eyes still on the stars. "My father was so excited. The Lannisters would make a great ally and I was the only daughter he had to offer. For two years I waited, knowing that I was to be married to a man who rode into battle with my grandfather. It was the day after my 17th name day that we were wed. Within a year I had Trysta." Your tongue peaked out to wet your lips. "Tywin was not a moral man. He was not a good man. He was a smart man. An ambitious man. But not a good one. I know he respected me, I think he may have cared for me in his own complicated way. I know he cared for our children. But he was old and mean and arrogant."

Tyrion was silent as you spoke, you two had talked in the past for hours about books and history but you never quite opened up about your relationship with his father. Your eyes fell down to your lap and you picked at a loose string.

"I may be cursed for thinking it but I do not miss him. I miss my home. I miss Casterly Rock. I miss the sea and the beach. I miss Trysta and Nataria. But I do not miss Tywin. I am not naive enough to think that I will ever experience what it's like to be loved...to marry for love. That's not a reality for high-born women but I do hope the next time I'm married off it's to someone who is less of an ass."

Tyrion stood there for a moment and then took your face into his hands, "I promise you by whatever Gods are listening that I will get you back home. Back to your children. Or I will die trying." And he meant it.

You simply nodded. He took his seat next to you, his hand resting atop yours. The two of you sat there in a peaceful silence looking at the stars with his hand on yours and you weren't sure how long for. It could have been 15 minutes or two hours. When Tyrion noticed your head starting to bob and your eyes struggled to stay open, he stood up and silently offered you his arm.

The walk to your room was quiet. He had more he wanted to say to you but he knew this was not the time to say it. Once he got to your door he didn't know what to say, he didn't know if he should say anything. He cleared his throat and rested his arm at his side.

"If you, uhm, if you need me...." His voice trailed off.

"I know," you nodded, "thank you." You placed a soft kiss on his forehead before disappearing into your room.

Tyrion stood there for a moment, frustration rushing over him like waves. It was happening. He could feel the feeling creep into his heart: he was falling in love with the woman he widowed and he wasn't sure how to stop it.

[gavisuntiedboot]

Just Pretend (Gavi x reader)

Part 1

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Epilogue

Tinder is not a great place to look for boyfriends, but neither is the workplace.

Gavi x Physiotherapist! reader. Slow burn. I can't make things fast he's gotta work for it. Smut? Not in this part but maybe eventually.

A/N: Hi everyone! Not super new on Tumblr but I have never been brave enough to post a fic despite my constant maladaptive daydreaming about imaginary scenarios. The stress of being sick and not wanting to write my personal statement have lead me to actually write this and post it online. Please be nice, hope you enjoy!

Song inspo: Just Pretend - Bad omens

Writing inspo: Plot inspired by @zeegaazeegaah and their amazing Gavi x physiotherapist imagine. Other inspirational accounts will be tagged at the end.

TW: None

Word count: 4.8K

"So what do you do?"

y/n hated this question. Even being asked for nudes might be preferable to being asked about her job. y/n had been on 12 first dates since moving back to Barcelona, and without fail every one of them had been ruined by this simple question. She considered lying - she could pass as a student or a waitress or even a model (ok maybe not a model): there were literally thousands of jobs she could pretend to have. But, being the idiot hopeless romantic that she was, she decided to be honest with the man across from her. What if Thiago from Tinder was her soulmate? She didn't want to ruin it by lying.

"I'm finishing my sports medicine and physiotherapy certification, so I am working with one of the football clubs here to do practical training and gain experience."

"Oh that's cool! Which club? You can tell me, I know most of the 3rd and 4th tier Catalan clubs, so I'll probably know it even if it's really small."

Wow. Thiago from Tinder was an overachiever: he messed up before she even said which club she worked for, which was faster than every other man she had been out with in the last four months. y/n took a deep breath and resisted the urge to leave before confessing where she worked.

"I actually work at a pretty well known club... F.C Barca. I think you might of heard of it?" y/n watched this man's jaw visibly drop. His eyes got wide and lit up, like someone had told him he had just won a brand new car.

"You're a physio at Barca?? No way! That's my team! I think I would actually commit manslaughter if Pedri asked me to. So you get to see all the players every day? And Xavi! Have you ever spoken to Xavi? Do you know he won Spain their first world cup? You might be too young to remember. That's so amazing!"

y/n felt all the muscles in her head tense as she focused all her energy on not rolling her eyes. A fanboy. Typical. This was the most common response she got when she said her place of work out loud. 6 of the last 12 first dates had been major fanboys for the club, talking endlessly about how they would steal and kill and get on their knees for Barca. One had even been so bold as to ask if she had ever seen Lewandosky naked, to confirm if some measurements he had seen online were true. While the fans were annoying, the haters were even worse. 4 different dates had said they felt bad that she worked at a "dying club", throwing up football statistics, and going red in the face when she said she could not possibly care less about who had more Champion's League wins.

Then there were those that went out of their way to offend her. You would think that a man trying to get laid would have some more common sense. But that didn't stop one of her tinder matches from calling her a liar in the middle of a restaurant. He was still on his first glass of wine, leaning back cockily in his chair when he said that La Liga would never allow female physios to work with the first team because women couldn't "handle the intensity of football injuries." She should have gotten up and left when he said that, but he was 6'3 with a brand new Porsche, so she let him buy her dinner and drive her home before telling him that she genuinely hoped he never interacted with a female doctor ever again, even if it was to save his life.

The worst had been when she went out with Jose. He had invited her to a pretty expensive spot in central Barcelona. They were having an amazing conversation until the fated job question. She had downed a good amount of wine at that point, and wasn't as cynical about the reaction as she usually would be, so she spoke about her role with pride. Big mistake. He perked up, then threw his head back and laughed. He laughed so loudly it startled the waiter clearing plates from the nearby table. "21 years old and working as a physio for F.C Barca... Who did you have to sleep with to get that job, hm? Xavi? La Porte himself? Or maybe someone at the university? Regardless, you must fuck like a pornstar to have landed a job like that. Can't wait to try it first hand." y/n said some choice words about Jose and his micropenis, and promptly left, seeking to avoid assault charges that night.

The truth was that y/n was extremely talented at what she did. She grew up watching football with her father and brother, developing an interest in working in sports professionally. She worked herself half to death during high school to be accepted into a sports science program in the U.S. She interned with the college teams there, learning about sports injuries and treating them. She finished her program in three years, and despite programs across Europe fighting for her, she came back to Barcelona to finish her physiotherapy certification. She would be lying if she said it was just for her family and friends. The program in Barcelona advertised opportunities to work with F.C. Barca, her favorite football club since birth. It was a love she inherited from her father, as shown by all her childhood pictures in the Blaugrana uniform.

The program was harder than expected. She was one of 7 female first year students, and the only girl in her year that wanted to work with the first team. y/n was made aware that this might work to her advantage now that professional football was pushing for more female representation (in referees, coaching staff, and now on the medical team). The guys in her class either hated her guts or wanted to sleep with her (sometimes both) - it really was like legally blonde without the law.

In the middle of August, close to the beginning of the new season, all the applicants for the Barca placement were called into the university on a Sunday. Their professor introduced Dr. Gonzales, the head physiotherapist for the club. y/n started to sweat despite the air conditioning hitting her directly. She was terrified to even breathe wrong in the presence of this man.

"It's a pleasure to be here with you all today. Thank you for your hard work in submitting to fill the assistant physiotherapist position at F.C. Barcelona. Now, there have been rumors that we are hiring a student to fil this position because it is cheaper and we are broke, but I would like to assure you all now that it's not true."

The two boys in front of her snickered quietly, one whispering a "yeah right" to the other. Dr. Gonzalez looked up at the boys. "You two giggling in the back. You don't seem like the type we need at Camp Nou. You can leave now." Everyone in the room sat up straighter after that. Everyone was on military behavior, not wanting a wrong look or a chair squeak to blow their chance. "As many of you know, one of our strikers, Ousmane Dembélé, presents with consistent right hamstring tightness, leading to frequent injuries."

As Dr. Gonzalez turned to face the screen, y/n found enough bravery to pull out a pen and paper to take notes. The doctor continued to describe the player's condition, his playing style, and the current course of treatment being used. After speaking for 25 minutes (while facing the screen instead of the students), he turned around and addressed them. "Your project is to develop a continuous muscular therapy treatment for Dembélé in the next two days. The best and most cost effective method gets the job placement. You at the back," he pointed at y/n, "Smart choice to take notes. I advise you not to share."

Y/n drove home that evening checking her rear-view mirror every few seconds. The possibility of being followed by one of her classmates so they could steal her notes was low, but never zero, and so she did both of the locks tightly on the door. She sat at her computer and got to work right away. Truth be told, she felt like the whole assignment was kind of a trick. Dr. Gonzalez had told them the current treatment plan for Dembélé, which had obviously been working seeing as they kept using it. She made a few adjustments based on leg dominance and the anticipated excess strain of playing more minutes each game, and then she decided to facetime her friend Angelika while she made the PowerPoint look pretty.

"Good evening Dr. y/l/n, finally ready to ask for my hand in marriage? My parents always wanted me to marry into medicine." y/n rolled her eyes and smirked. She had met Angelika when she was living in the US through a Facebook group for Spanish students studying abroad. Ever since then, not a day had gone by where they hadn't spoken (except once when Angelika had dropped her phone into a pint of beer and couldn't get it fixed for three days).

"You know I'm ready when you are gorgeous, just send your ring size. What're you up to?"

"Nothing much, just scrolling on the internet trying to find clubs that are no cover for ladies tomorrow. You're still coming out with us right?" y/n looked away from her computer and looked at Angelika with the "I'm about to bail on plans look" that was all too familiar. "Y/n!! You cannot be cancelling plans with us again! You haven't been anywhere except your house and the university in like six weeks! People will start to think you're with child and in hiding."

"I didn't know I was the new virgin Mary." y/n quipped, trying to make her presentation equally professional and cute. "You're not, because that would require you being a virgin. I know it feels like it's growing back because you haven't looked in the direction of a man in centuries." y/n could only shake her head. It was not a lack of trying. "Well, I'm presenting to the Barca head physio Wednesday morning, so if you ever want a chance at seeing the inside of that locker room, you need to let me skip out on tomorrow."

Angelika sighed and threw herself on the bed dramatically. "Fine, but you need to be our DD and come pick us up after. Shockingly, it's really hard to order an Uber while drunk." y/n agreed to pick the girls up from the club at the end of the night, an spent the rest of the evening chatting idlily with her friend, living vicariously through the stories she told.

The following day, y/n spent all morning refining her presentation. She spent over an hour watching videos about the Barca training facility to see if there was any equipment she had overlooked in creating her treatment plan. The day progressed as normal - cleaning, cooking, practicing her presentation, watching TV on the couch. As 1am rolled around, she still hadn't received any communication from Angelika. While she was not an inconsiderate person, Angelika did have her moments where she would completely forget about the world around her: that was when she met a man who showed interest in her. Despite being gorgeous and intelligent, Angelika, like most girls in their early twenties, suffered from a condition known as "Nothing is true about me unless an attractive man says it". y/n also suffered (mildly) from this affliction, but being surrounded by weirdos all day in university had helped substantially. She knew that if she did not leave then, she would never get any sleep, and so she grabbed her car keys and headed to the address of the club that she had been sent earlier on.

She parked several blocks away from the club, and called Angelika for a record 41st time. y/n knew she wasn't going to receive an answer, so she changed into a tight satin top and a pair of heels that she always left in her car in case of emergencies (What if Joao Felix decided to take a random trip to Barcelona and she was unprepared?). She could feel the street practically vibrating beneath her as she walked towards the club. She was let in easily - it was a Tuesday night and the establishment needed female patrons. She kept close to the bar, and asked the girls working there if they had seen her friend. Once y/n pulled up a picture of Angelika, the girls laughed to one another.

"Oh yeah, she's up in the VIP section. They've dropped like 6k on bottle service already."

y/n felt the vein in her forehead start to pop out. Of course Angelika had found herself a man that would take her to the part of the club that was the hardest to get into. Especially on the night when y/n really needed to get home. Because why wouldn't that happen? She made her way over to the VIP section, where she was promptly stopped by two large bouncers, who obviously didn't believe that she just wanted to grab her friend. While standing there deciding whether she should just make Angelika order an Uber (or have this new lover order one for her), she was tapped on the shoulder. She turned around and was met by a very attractive man (boy? His age was hard to determine in the dark).

"Hey, do you need to get into VIP? Are you here alone? " "That's a really creepy question to ask a girl in a club." y/n yelled back over the thumping music. What were all these people doing out on a Tuesday? "No not like that. I can help you get in if you want." "I don't really want to get in, I just want to get my friend and leave." The man (boy?)'s eyes lit up. "Perfect! My tea- friend. My friend that I'm with is pretty drunk and the person that drove us is in VIP. I can't leave him by himself because he's kind of rowdy even when sober. Could you watch him while I go grab them?"

y/n didn't want to look too deeply into a good thing, but the offer felt suspicious. She scanned the boy (she had decided that he was young), looking for any indication that he could live up to his end of the bargain. She looked down at his feet, noticing the white Alexander McQueen sneakers. She decided that she could trust him, and if not, she was still in a public place, and someone would notice if she was being dragged out of a club kicking and screaming. She walked over to where the friend was and had to stifle a laugh. Another boy was sprawled across two high bar chairs, legs up and head rolled back. He was wearing a pair of Louis Vuitton sunglasses despite it being the middle of the night and them being indoors. His white button up had the first two undone and the collar popped, like he was Pitbull in 2011. He was in a pair skinny jeans (because, as y/n discovered quickly, everyone in the world had moved on from skinny jeans except for Spanish men) and some white Dolce and Gabanna sneakers. Where were these kids getting all this money?

"Pablo! Look who I brought you! This is..." The first boy looked back at you expectantly. "y/n". "y/n! She's really great and going to take care of you while I go get Pepi so we can go home." The drunk one (now Identified as Pablo) lifted his head, and tilted the sunglasses just enough to get a good look at the girl. "Wow Angel, nice job." The first one (Angel apparently) apologized to y/n, explaining that Pablo was a "really flirty drunk" but that he was never like this sober. y/n showed Angel a picture of Angelika, and off he went back into the beast that was the club. y/n stood awkwardly by Pablo, who appeared to have fallen asleep. Suddenly, he sprung up and asked her, "so what is a pretty girl like you doing in the club by herself?"

"I'm not here to go clubbing, just picking up a friend." "You're dressed like you're going clubbing." "Right, because they wouldn't let me into the club in my scrubs." "Scrubs? You look too young to be a doctor." The music was starting to take a toll on y/n, the thumping rhythm giving her a splitting headache. "You don't look old enough to be let into the club, but everyone is full of surprises." Pablo did not take this comment well. He stood up, feeling all the blood rush to his head as he rested his weight against the bar. He pushed his glasses up his head, and looked straight at her.

This was the first opportunity y/n had to admire how gorgeous Pablo was. The glasses pushed his hair back on his head, showing off his striking eyebrows and cheekbones. His eyes were wide and glassy, making him look like a teenager who had gotten drunk for the first time. For all y/n knew, that could be the case. His nose slopped downward, a subtle bump in the bridge like it had been broken before and reset. His discontent made his bottom lip poke out, and y/n suddenly was overwhelmed by the urge to treat him like a child: make him feel better with a kiss. "I'm 18, and this isn't even my first time in a club. You want to see my ID?" Pablo had gotten much closer to her than she had expected. In her 4 inch heels, y/n was looking him straight in the eyes. He was mere inches away from her face, cheeks flushed from the alcohol and the anger of being called a child. She couldn't stop her gaze from flipping between his eyes to his pouting lips. 'This is normal,' she thought to herself. 'I'm overwhelmed because no man has been this close to me in a while. Even if my scumbag cheating ex was standing this close I would want to kiss him. I am simply in desperate need of affection.'

This internal monologue ended just as another club patron bumped into Pablo, causing him to lose balance. He put his arms around y/n and rested weight against her, head pressed into her shoulder. "I feel like dying. I shouldn't have drank that much." He muttered. She just held him there, scared that he would hit the floor if she shifted. "Then why did you keep drinking?" She asked. It couldn't hurt - in the state he was in, she would be surprised if he even remembered his name in the morning. "So my brain would be a little quieter." y/n's heart ached at the statement. However old the boy in her arms was, he was being burdened by something far beyond his age.

Before she could ask anything else, she was tapped on the shoulder by Angel, who signaled for her to follow out of the club. She put one of Pablo's arms around her neck and began shuffling through the crowd. Once they left the club, Pablo quickly separated from her to throw up on the side of the street. "At least he waited until he was off of you to do that," a male voice echoed from behind her. y/n turned around to see Angelika clinging to a tall brunet. "Thank you so much for carrying her out. I think I can take it from here." y/n said, trying to get Angelika to remove herself from the nice man. "It's ok, I can walk her to your car. It might be easier than you carrying her." y/n smiled apologetically, and turned around to the sound of Pablo continuing to wretch his guts out. She ran over to make sure he wasn't puking blood and didn't need medical attention. "Come on Pablo let's go." Angel said from the curb. "No no, don't rush him. Let him get it all out before he gets into my car. Otherwise he'll have to start taking the city bus to matches." y/n looked up at the new voice. He walked up and stood by Angel, glancing at his phone before looking up at his friend and the girl making sure he didn't die. "Thanks for looking after him. I hope he wasn't too bad, he's a tag aggressive." y/n stood there speechless. The man thanking her for taking care of his drunk friend was none other than Pedri Gonzalez, one of the young stars of F.C. Barca. He was an absolute magician with the ball, and quickly becoming a favorite in y/n's household. She wanted to let out a scream: jump up and down and tell him that she was a huge fan and ask for a picture. But she had her presentation tomorrow. The last thing she needed was to make a bad impression on the player by causing a scene. So she took a deep breath and insisted that it was no problem.

Pablo had finished puking out his guts by that point and stood up straight, gripping his head from the dizziness. "Alright hermano, time to go." Pedri said, turning his back to y/n, Angelika, and the main carrying her. "Wait." Pablo said rummaging through his pocket. He pulled out his wallet, and clumsily pulled a card from it. He turned to y/n and grabbed her shoulder, pulling her close to him. There were shouts from his friends to stop whatever he was doing, but nothing was registering in his liquor-filled brain. "y/n think's I'm a little kid, so I just wanted to show her my ID." y/n shifted her gaze from his deep eyes to the card in his hand. She didn't look at the age. She didn't have to. Her eyes landed on the name: Pablo Martín Páez Gavira. One of the best young football players in the world had just used her as a banister. "Now that you know I'm not a kid, next time, you should let me buy you a drink." Pablo said, pushing a strand of hair from y/n's face before walking (wobbling) back to his friends.

y/n could not process everything going on in her head at that moment. She turned around and faced the man holding a half-asleep Angelika. "You don't play for Barca do you?" She asked, half joking and half fearful. "No. I play for Real Sociedad. I'm Martin." "Zubimendi??" "Yeah." This was too much. y/n, 7 hours before the most important presentation of her life, was surrounded by so much football royalty it made her dizzy. Martin looked like he was going to say something else, but y/n put her finger to her lips and shushed him. "Please, not another word. Just bring her to the car."

They walked silently to y/n's tiny car, Martin helping to carefully place Angelika in the back seat. "So are you the guy she was with while ignoring my calls?" "Oh no, that was my teammate Ander. He was also kind of out of it so I offered to help her out." "Why is everyone getting drunk out of their minds on a random Tuesday in August?" y/n said in frustration, causing a laugh to erupt from Martin. "It's the last week before training for the new season starts. Not a lot of opportunities to black out after this. People like to take advantage." y/n thanked Martin and got into the driver's seat. He stopped her before she drove off. "Do you think I could maybe get your number? Just to make sure you get home safe?" y/n rolled her eyes at the lame excuse for a pick-up tactic, but surrendered her phone number anyway. She drove back to her apartment with her head reeling, as she tried to rehearse her speech in her head instead of thinking of the events of the night.

The next day, y/n looked perfect. She had work her best school-approved scrubs and coat. and slicked her hair back to make her look more professional. She was in her business attire Nikes. Her note cards were neatly written and organized. She sat in the lecture hall waiting to be called on. The students would be presenting in random order. As all the student filled in to present, the tension was palpable. Everyone side-eyed each other, trying to intimidate the "competition". The door swung open and in walked the professor, as well as Dr. Gonzalez. He stood at the front podium, stern as ever, and began to speak.

"Good morning students. Thank you all for the effort you have put into the presentations you will share today. We look forward to all you assessments and insights. As the new season quickly approaches, we want the new assistant to become acclimated to the workplace quickly. Therefore, the decision about the position will be made today following the presentation." The entire room stopped breathing. "In order to do so efficiently, please welcome our other guests and evaluators, Mr. Xavi Hernandez and Mr. Ousmane Dembélé." The pair walked in, and the room engaged in the most "I wish I was dead" sounding clapping known to man. y/n started sweating profusely. If she had known that Xavi and Dembélé were going to be watching her presentation, she would have made Angelika take the Uber. Hell, she would have made her ride a Donkey back home and gotten a full night's sleep.

Dr. Gonzalez drew names for the order, and because y/n has the worst luck, she was presenting last. She did what she does best: panicked immediately. She tried to think of ways to present the information differently than the 6 students before her had. As she listened to the presentations, the more nervous she got. None of the other students had treatment plans remotely similar to hers. Antonio, one of the smartest in their batch and the presenter right before her, even suggested he get surgery.

It was time. y/n stood up at the front of the room and pulled out her slides. "Good morning everyone. Today I will be presenting my comprehensive treatment plan for player Ousmane Dembélé's right hamstring." She got through the whole thing without stuttering or having her knees give out. As she finished her last slide, she let out a sigh of relief. The hard part was over. She asked if their were questions and Xavi's hand went up. "So Miss y/n, the treatment plan presented is very similar to the one we have currently implemented, with a couple changes in training and every day life. What is the anticipated recovery time for this treatment?" Everyone else in the class had said 8-12 months. But no - of course y/n had to be differently. "6 weeks sir." "6 weeks? No one else has given a suggestion that would take less than half a year." "Yes sir, however, if you take into account the availability of daily therapy, cryotherapy, and the current play style and strain distribution, he can be on the field in 6 weeks. He might not be comfortable playing all 90 minutes each game, but that's not the same as being completely out for injury." Xavi nodded and said nothing more. That was the end of the questioning.

It took them 8 minutes exactly to decide who go the job. Dr. Gonzalez, Xavi, and Dembélé came back into the room, thanking everyone again for their hard work. "We are please to announce," Xavi started, "that we will be offering the assistant physiotherapist position for the 2022/2023 season to," he turned to Dembélé, who finished the thought, "Miss y/n y/l/n." All the men in the room turned to face y/n at once as she struggled to breathe from the shock. "We look forward to having you this season."

And that's how it happened. y/n was now the assistant physiotherapist for the first team at F.C. Barcelona during the day, and entertainment for the absolute worst men in Spain in the evenings. She left her disappointing first date with a headache and leftovers, and drove home listening to her "Maybe Love is a Social Construct" playlist. As she walked into her apartment, her phone chimed with a text notification. She let her hair down and grabbed her phone, preparing to update Angelika about the latest in the tragedy that was her love life. Instead, she had two separate text notifications.

[Unknown number]: Hey, is this still y/n's number?

[Gavi]: I need to see you urgently. Tomorrow morning 6:30 am. I'll be waiting outside your office.

To be continued...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If you got this far, thanks for reading! I have had this idea for a long time and have been writing snippets of it down. I will continue to update whenever I can, as this really is a passion project for me (so it's ok if no one reads it).

GIF credit to @gavidaily

Huge thanks to the following for heavily inspiring me to start writing this on the internet: @missgavi @kyiiansmbappe @julianalvarez9 @milawritesstuff @leeamorgan (there are a couple others I'm forgetting)

[askcometcare]

Hey. Try to remember that Sparklecare lifts so many people up. I deal with maladaptive daydreaming to cope, and months ago I kept daydreaming about being a Cometcare kid. The parents are so kind, the world so idealistic the people so unabashedly themselves, that I wish it was the world I was in. I'm sorry if you're uncomfortable with that, my point's just... Cometcare seems like such a good place to live, and it's helped me and many other people. You're doing a good thing here. Thank you.

OOC: Thank you so much, this absolutely made my day. Hearing people say positive things about my AU or telling me that it's had a positive impact on their lives means so much to me because it's helped me tremendously as well. I'm never going to give up on this AU, I intend to keep it going for all of Sparklecare's run-time and maybe even longer. It's the most important thing I've ever made for myself and such a huge part of who I am. Thank you for this message. 🩷❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

Me: *sees latest Cross Guild posts*

My fucking maladaptive daydreaming mind: Huh wouldn't it be cool if I just reproduced the most fucking domestic thoughts about Cross Guild x reader you've ever seen?? Especially cooking??? Yeah???? Cooking with Cross Guild and you knowing damn well that Mihawk is the only one who's gonna be any fucking help at all??????

I love cooking. So so much. And it would be SUCH chaos trying to cook with all three of them at once, no matter how large the kitchen is.

I am certain Mihawk is the most capable of the bunch. Spent years upon years living on his own so he's easily the most domestically capable in general; but the man also clearly has refined tastes and would have made a point of becoming more than marginally accomplished in the kitchen. World's Greatest Swordsman does not take half-measures when learning a new trade. That being said, he'll be very particular and expect you to follow his lead, not the other way around.

Buggy just wants to joke around and incite chaos. He actually picks up on prep-work things pretty quickly because he's happy he gets to play with knives, but he's not allowed near the stove or oven because he can and will end up starting a fire or blowing something up. Maybe by accident, maybe intentionally. Hard to tell. You just know that you absolutely cannot take your eyes off of him for more than ten seconds.

Crocodile probably had his own personal chefs back in Alabasta, so he's honestly clueless. Willing to try, but there are limitations when it comes to having only one hand. Gets frustrated about it pretty easily, really doesn't like being shown up, particularly by Mihawk, who's being quite smug about it.

Whole situation just implodes on itself when you're trying to assist Crocodile in dicing an onion, and you hear Buggy go "Hey, need a hand?" and Buggy just detaches his hand and tosses it onto the cutting board, because Buggy is always game for risking his whole ass for a good joke.

Someone's going to have to work kitchen repairs and appliance replacement into the Cross Guild budget this month.

[aura-dragonfly]

Because of the storm, I stayed up because I couldn't sleep and because I couldn't sleep...I... I googled about the Andromeda Galaxy and tried to find info about the only known planet so far in it. Whyy does my brain think up these things? All because the androids from the episode "I, Mudd" from Star Trek TOS mentioned the place, and it reminded me of it? But why do I focus on the weirdest things? Lol. Apart from being ND, of course.

Im starting to feel a connection to that place. It'd be really cool if another part of me is from there. BUT wouldn't people accuse me of faking a disorder or whatever? Of course, then again, like I've said I'm accepting toward all. I shouldn't have a double standard and be okay with other endogenic or whatever and not accept it when it happens in myself. Why is it so hard to do so for myself?? I think I might have maladaptive daydreaming sometimes, too. I keep creating innerworlds...

(Possibly)

~Aurae Novae🪐🌌~

[auraindigos-paraspace]

My newest paracosm world of Forrestopia:

(Part 1. 3 more pages in part 2)

[kneelingshadowsalome]

I promised, promised myself that I wouldn’t read the Roman König x Fee fic until it was completed because I knew i would get absolutely drawn in, wrapped up in your exquisite prose, then get addicted and suffer from withdrawals. Unneeded to say I broke said promise and welp here I am 🤡

Thing that surprised me was how quickly he endeared himself to me? A cock swinging village massacring brute that I was FULLY prepared to hate had me sighing by then end of chapter 3 with the “you care about my head?” ✋😩 YES I worry for your stupid head you adorable monster.

It’s uncanny how similarly Fee and I felt as the plot progressed. I know this is a self insert and though I made an OC for fee, you were able to capture the feeling of hate to curiousity to distrust to budding emotions on the readers side so beautifully and in only three chapters?? What sorcery is this?? I could go on and on about how I’m just… in awe of your writing skills.

It’s the small things too. The effort he went through to understand Fee, learning her language like he desperately wants to be a part of her. It’s just his delight in the simple things like having a woman and buying her pretty things. I AM GOING TO GNAW OFF MY ARM THIS IS SO GOOD!! I don’t know if you’ve watched HBOs Rome, but they remind me of Pullo and Eirene so much! Like you can’t tell me König doesn’t fit that goofy brawdy soldier who’s only hobbies are drinking and fucking and fighting to a T!

Then it got me thinking…. If König is Pullo then Simon is Vorenus. He has that straight laced, no bs aura about him. Now I’m imagining them both in this universe and please excuse me while I melt in a puddle 🫠

This is perhaps the best piece of fiction I’ve read in a while. I can’t wait for part 4, I have no doubt it will be wonderful as usual. Please accept my maladaptive daydream interpretation of Fee (first she was supposed to be a wood nymph, then the earth goddess then a fairy queen?? I’m not sure anymore. There was so much great imagery couldn’t settle on one. Your honor, we lost the plot.)

Oh my goodness OH MY GOODNESS ❤️❤️❤️

You shower me with praise and I’m over here like aaahh... for me? 🥺❤️

And yes I’ve watched Rome like four times at least! Every time I watch it just gets better, the producers and crew really outdid themselves with all the details in that series. I consider it one of the best TV shows ever made and excuse me but you opened a Pandora’s box here, I'm just so pleased you brought this up...

It took so much time for Pullo to grow on me, I was so frustrated with his character but when he killed Eirene’s man because he was so in love with her and was just like: “Oh there's something in the way of our love? Oh well. *there*, solved.” Gosh I was IN LOVE. I’m sorry, I’m a horrible person, but I fell in love with Pullo right that second. And yeah König is kinda like Pullo in that sense! Eirene wails at the corpse of her ex-lover and Pullo is just like “Um, yeah nasty business but… why are you crying? Oh, oh yeah, oops. But hey, we could be together? Oh, you don’t want me? Damn. How come?” I wanted to shake and kiss him for being so dumb and adorable.

And Ghost is Vorenus YES, you get it 100 %! And the tragic love story of Vorenus & Niobe, oh god, took me about a month to get over it. And Vorenus being under the protection of Mars first and then literally becoming Pluto, the Lord of the Underworld… The mythology nerd in me is swooning over here. The only thing about Vorenus that's slightly König coded to me was when Pullo had to explain to him what a clitoris is, and Vorenus is like “How do you know this about my wife?!?!” and almost kills him :D That’s so so Roman!König.

But AHHH let me squeal about your maladaptive daydream adaption next: she’s the most gorgeous Fee ever, so lovely and feminine and yet, strong and possessing that earthly power in her. I love the color of her dress too!! There’s a lot of earth & water elements linked to Fee so that color (green to turquoise?) is the most perfect combination of earth and sea, while König is more like fire & air, coming from the mountains and slow to anger but when the fire rises, no one is safe...

This was so lovely, thank you so much! I hope you enjoy the rest of the story 🩷💋

[moriphile]

How do you define paraphilia recovery? People have differing views and I am curious on learning varying views.

That's a good question! I've done a lot of research in this area and am probably more cynical than most, but I'm definitely happy to give my view.

Long ass post below the cut.

Firstly, not all paraphilias require recovery (think objectum, urophilia, coprophilia, dacryphilia, etc.), unless they cause psychological distress. In which case, the recovery portion would be learning to accept those feelings. Whether that ends in acting on the paraphilia in some sort of kink scenario or simply accepting that it's there depends on the person.

For paraphilias that would infringe upon consent (think the big 3, somnophilia, biastophilia, exhibitionism, etc.), it also really depends on the specific person and their goals. I'm a firm believer in the fact that a paraphilia can't be "erased," so there's entirely no point in trying to*. I will always be attracted to what I'm attracted to, whether I want to be or not.

For paraphilias such as those, the most important thing is harm reduction. Learning that your attractions don't make you an inherently bad person or more "dangerous" than the general population. Whether someone fully accepts their paraphilia or not also depends on the person, but I believe it's extremely important to teach people with those paraphilias that their attraction is not synonymous with predation. It does not make them a predator. Otherwise, you're contributing to a self-fulfilling prophecy (i.e. "if everyone thinks I'm a monster even though I've never acted on it, what's the point in fighting it?"), which is harmful to the paraphile and the people around them.

If they need to learn it, teaching impulse control tactics can be very helpful, even if just teaching them to divert it to something else (i.e. reading or writing instead of acting. Journaling can be GREAT. Even if it's erotic journaling). I, myself, have a lot of problems with maladaptive daydreaming which has been taken over by my paraphilias, and I'm still working with my therapist on how to stop it from being maladaptive, so I can't say I have much on the topic of intrusive thoughts or fantasies. If mindfulness works for them, that's awesome. It does not work for me, it does not work for everyone. I do find that journaling them helps, though. Not a whole lot, but sometimes getting the thoughts out of my head helps me let go of them (with the added fear of someone finding those writings, but at this point I'm just happy for them to be gone for more than an hour).

I also believe that fiction and kink are great outlets. Fiction is rather obvious, but with kink, this can include things such as CNC, nonhuman toys, ageplay (though that likely won't work for everyone), bloodplay, roleplay, consensual somno kinks... the list goes on. I have complicated thoughts on fictional visual depictions, so I won't get into that particular thing unless you'd like me to. But other than my thoughts on that, I fully believe fiction and kink are very healthy outlets for paraphilic desires, despite what some like to claim. Fantasy does not equal desire to act. I have more to say on that, but this post is long enough already.

Not engaging with your paraphilia in some way or another if you truly feel the need to can result in even worse internal stigma and shame. This is actually one of the largest predictors of offending (along with ASPD but I'm not a particular fan of demonizing personality disorders. Especially one that I literally have). Feeling like you've been ostracized from society for something that you can't control can break a person. No matter whether it's for a paraphilia or not. It's an extremely dehumanizing feeling, and feeling dehumanized can cause a lot of aggression.

I guess, all that to say, I don't believe eradication of paraphilia is possible. But I do believe that they can be healthily controlled. Recovery, for me, is being able to accept one's paraphilia without shame, though I don't believe pride is required (and believe it can be harmful in some instances, as well). As long as someone can control themselves (which most of us are actually pretty damn good at. You get good at it yourself when you're scared of seeking help) and has a healthy outlet for their desires if they need one, I believe that's a "recovered" paraphile.

I hope this helps! If you have any further questions or desire elaboration on any points, don't hesitate to ask!

* There is nuance here! Sometimes intrusive thoughts and fantasies can be mistaken for attractions (they aren't always synonymous). Sometimes trauma responses can result in pseudo-paraphilic thoughts. POCD is also just... a thing (which I thought I had for a while! But I do not, much to my chagrin). All of these things can be treated, and while the paraphilic thoughts may not always disappear entirely, they can be minimized. In these cases, it's more important to treat the underlying cause than the paraphilic thoughts, unless they're at risk of acting on them. Then harm reduction comes first and treatment of the underlying cause comes second.

[petermorwood]

I got this thing I call 'lucid daydreaming', and it's kind of a lucid dream except that you document everything that happens, and you're awake. I picked this up after I recovered from maladaptive daydreaming, and it feels very good because not only am I writing things and moving the 'plot' forward, in documenting the dream as it happens I also prevent it from going in circles, as what usually happens! What do you think?

I've heard of lucid daydreaming, though never more than "heard of"; if it's something that helps your writing, more power to you!

*****

Most writers will allow that the mental process of creating characters, story and environment is a kind of daydreaming, though whether it qualifies as "lucid" is up to them.

For me it looks a lot like staring into space with my mouth open followed by bursts of scribbling or typing.

While @dduane knows what that means, in the early, early days when my writing was spare-time to "A Real Job", it took ages for my Mum to recognise the non-scribbling / non-typing part as something not to be interrupted.

Until that recognition it often meant: "Oh good, you're not writing, could you go for the groceries / fetch some coal / help bring in the laundry", etcetera, etcetera.

Then she would bustle off again, unaware of the house of cards collapsing in her wake...

[cringelordofchaos]

Common ADHD traits/experiences I've heard of !!

(I was gonna make a post about why I might be neurodivergent but I figured it'd be going a bit too personal. Also this is just easier)

(ADHD is much more nuanced and complex than I may make it appear in this post. A lot of ADHD people don't have a lot of these traits or have traits not mentioned here. For example there are three types of ADHD (inattentive, hyperactive and combined) and most inattentive adhders are not going to be hyperactive lol)

Warning: badly worded (I'm stupid that's my excuse). also I'll go on personal rants as to how some of these may apply to me (whilst I can reasonate with each point listed here I won't go on a rat on all of these)

Physical hyperactivity (inability to sit/stand still (I used to think this meant that people with ADHD were incapable of. Sitting down (while constantly fidgeting or not) for one whole class)(I was an idiot)(I still am)). (Just overall constant , movement (I might have it idk I'm ALWAYS

Excessive talking

Stimming, fidgeting, general and overall repetitive movements (such as flapping hands, pacing, clasping hands together, etc)

Low attention span regarding things that don't garner much interest to you

More likely to be autistic, have anxiety or depression (or generally have other diagnostic conditions)

Ability to Hyperfocus on specific things, at times out of their control

More likely to have a lower Performance in school that most people

Proneness to addiction

Rejection sensitive dysphoria/RSD (really sensitive and afraid to rejection or criticism or disapproval or stuff like that. I'm questioning if I have it and I'm pretty sure I do bc i would have a whole breakdown bc i accidentally had a bad unintentional thought about this cool person I didn't want to hate me)(it's complicated)

Emotional disregulation (easily irritable, excited, stressed, stronger emotions, more likely to lash out, etc)(people with this are usually described to be much more emotional)

restless leg syndrome (except it's permanent lol)

Lower memory spans regarding most things

Forgetting to fulfill basic needs (such as eating, drinking, showering, etc)

Women/AFAB people are more likely to be diagnosed with inattentive ADHD (this of course does not rucking mean afab people can't b hyperactive my god)

Mental hyperactivity (racing/constant/overlapping/repetitive thoughts or stuff like that)

Impulsivity (doing stuff without thinking them fully though or not knowing why)

Sensory issues (sensitivity to sensory output such as noise, brightness, etc)

Easily bored/underwhelmed/understimulated - more likely to want to seek constant dopamine (due to l

Easily overwhelmed (whether itd be due to aforementioned sensory issues, emotional disregulation, rsd or stuff like that)

More likely to be perceived as "childish" (from what I've heard obviously this and many other things listed here don't apply to everyone)

Executive dysfunction (can't do shit at all)(ok it's more complicated than that just Google it up or something)

Having Hyperfixations (things you're DEEPLY invested in for a period of time, it can be a few days, weeks, months, sometimes more than a year, depends rly)(I'm still questioning if I'm neurodivergent but like I'm pretty sure I was in a DEEP hyperfixation mode when it came to sonic for like. A YEAR. like I literally it was literally the only thing on my brain the only thing in my life. and I would get realllytyy excited about learning obscure information about it or infodumping and I would flap my hands bc of how excited and passionate I was Abt it)(man I miss the times when I was so passionate about stuff I liked it was so fun :(( )

Higher/lower levels of empathy (I've seen this moreso been brought up with discussions regarding autism but I've also seen it brought up with ADHD itself too)

Lower levels of dopamine

Impatience

More likely to be a maladaptive daydreamer

Its cause is usually heavily genetic (meaning if your family or a family member has ADHD, you are more likely to have ADHD yourself)

More likely to have insomniac/have general problems with sleep (I'm questioning ADHD. I'm writing this like... Five hours before I'm supposed to wake up for school. Great.)

There is also a higher relevance between ADHD and PTSD

If I missed something important let me know!! Also if you don't know some of he

This post is not meant to be used as a substitute for self nor professional diagnosis, though if you feel like you might have ADHD because of this post I recommend further research and conversations with trusted advisors such as parental figures or therapists/doctors (not me not listening to my own advice)(<- that was me regarding my latter advice)(I'm too scared to tell my parents about it man)(idk why)

Things to note:

ADHD is not just about little elementary school hyperactive white boys !!

There's a lot of things I mightve missed

Not everyone with ADHD has all these traits (obviously)

Some of these traits may be common due to the commonness of ADHD + autism overlap (idk though)

Apparently it's one of the most diagnosed forms of neurodivergence in kids (about 7-10% of kids in the USA are diagnosed with ADHD)(APPARENTLY idk)

There's more but I'm tired right now byeeee