yes, doctors suck, but also "the medical ethics and patient interaction training doctors receive reinforces ableism" and "the hyper competitive medical school application process roots out the poor, the disabled, and those who would diversify the field" and "anti-establishment sentiment gets applications rejected and promotions requests denied, weeding out the doctors on our side" and "the gruesome nature of the job and the complete lack of mental health support for medical practitioners breeds apathy towards patients" and "insurance companies often define treatment solely on a cost-analysis basis" and "doctors take on such overwhelming student loan debt they have no choice but to pursue high paying jobs at the expense of their morals" are all also true
none of this absolves doctors of the truly horrendous things they say and do to patients, but it's important to acknowledge that rather than every doctor being coincidentally a bad person, there is something specific about this field and career path that gives rise to such high prevalence of ableist attitudes
and I WILL elaborate happily
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I don't know how to break it to you all but a bad parent will parent badly with books and a good parent will parent well with an iPad.
Ipads don't make the "ipad kid". What upsets you is a child who is being given something distracting and potentially obnoxious to those around them so that the parent doesn't have to deal with engaging with their child. And it's not new.
I grew up before the invention of the ipad and the complaints were the same. It was "tv kids" and "Gameboy kids". And it was book kids too, though people rarely complained about those kids because it didn't make noise and bother them personally so they no longer cared. Because the "it's for the good of the child!" argument dried up real fast as soon as it was something that didn't affect them.
A good parent who is engaging with their child's interests can do so with an iPad or television. A bad parent can say "take this and leave me alone" with a book or a toy. The problem is that some kids were raised by objects. By whatever kept them busy and entertained and away from their parents. Sure, there are parents who need to realize that's what they're doing and would benefit from changing their parenting style by limiting electronics use, but "if you give your kid an electronic toy, it means you're a bad parent" is not the same thing and largely misses the actual source of the problem.
Your arbitrary standards of what "good children" doing "good child activities" is as restricting.
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one thing that’ll always sadden me about qsmp lore wise is that we never got to see all the qfrench bombshell revelations take place . all their conflicting views coming to a final head . the number of conversations étoiles “fuck the federation”, baghera “i used to hate them but it’s all so much more grey now” and antoine “the federation are my friends” left taper off bc there was that unspoken undercurrent of ‘ermmm let’s just move past this and not get into it’ well what if they HAD gotten into it . what if the others finally found out about qbagz past as a fed experiment, and her fear of them blaming her for the plane crash . qayp/ayrobot’s whole fucking deal, that he’d been watched by the feds for years before getting taken . qantoine literally aiding the federation in their plans and experiments . what if huh
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tim drake has literally never had a vigilante id that he named/designed himself. robin? inherited from jason who inherited it from dick. red robin? inherited from jason again. drake? fucking stole it from his EVIL ALT UNIVERSE SELF.
and hypothetically he'd be so good at it. think about alvin draper. caroline hill. Mr. Sarcastic. this boy has a new identity for every day of the week and you're telling me he can't come up with his own hero-sona? absolute bull.
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“I thought I was supposed to be the old person in this relationship,” Toji’s voice rings out in the previously quiet atmosphere, makes your head whip up in surprise. your concentration is broken from your prior engagement, hands slowing as you can’t help the smile that grows on your face at his teasing.
“Crocheting is for any and all ages,” you snark back at him, taking in how he watches the way your hands still move rhythmically—yarn over, pull through two loops, yarn over, pull through the last two, chain four, repeat. “You weren’t talking shit when I made you that sweater for your birthday.”
“Yeah I did, cause it itched like all hell.” He teases, makes you stick your tongue out at him playfully. he wore that sweater everywhere, to the point you damn near had to rip it off of him to put it in the wash. (the only times he didn’t wear it was when he knew he’d get it dirty while doing his…business ventures, which you didn’t mind. you’d rather he go a day without wearing it than googling how to wash blood out of a crocheted sweater that took you weeks to make.)
by the time you snap back to reality, Toji has already crossed the room, standing in front of where you sit cross legged in the comfy recliner he brought just for when you crocheted. it takes you aback by how quickly he moved, so silently, face suddenly warm as you look up at him from under your lashes. his eyes are dark, shadowed by his fringe, his hands in his pockets, his head cocked to the side. he looks devious.
“What are you cooking up in that pretty little head of yours?” you ask him, finally pausing your hands as you rest them in your lap. but Toji doesn’t let you, no. instead, he holds them back up in front of your face as he sinks to his knees in front of you, his smile wide and evil, pulling your legs from under you as he settles them on his shoulders.
“Don’t worry ‘bout it,” he croons to you, kissing the inner part of your knee, eyes still glued to your burning face. “Just keep doing your little old lady hobby while I busy myself.” without warning, he pulls your sleep shorts to the side, grinning when he’s met with the bare beauty that is your pussy. you shudder at the air that breezes past you, try to focus on chaining when he squeezes at your thighs with warm, veiny hands.
“But I can’t focus on counting my stitches when your face is between my legs.” you pout to him, hoping it’ll sway him to eat you out and then let you continue your project. but he doesn’t put his mouth on you until you start again, rewards you with a single wet, smacking kiss where you need it most.
“Guess you’re gonna have to learn how to multitask, sweetheart.” Toji grins before he licks a long stripe from taint to clit, your hands hiccuping in their movements. you can feel his smile more than see it, and come to the realization that he’s an evil, evil man. (you have to recount your stitches more than once, and even after you’re fucked out from euphoria and bliss, you still think you’re missing a few.)
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