#Transition Care Centres

[sukinohealthcare]

How Transition Care Centres in Bangalore are Revolutionizing Recovery?

Recovery after a hospital stay or surgery is a crucial phase that demands specialized care and attention. In Bangalore, Transition Care Centres have emerged as a game-changer in this domain, offering a unique and comprehensive approach to post-hospitalization recovery. These centres are revolutionizing the recovery process by providing a bridge between hospital care and home, ensuring patients receive the support they need to regain their health and independence. In this blog, we will delve into the key aspects of Transition Care Centres in Bangalore and explore how they are transforming the healthcare landscape.

1. Personalized Care Plans for Optimal Recovery

One core element that sets Transition Care Centres apart is their focus on personalised care plans. Each patient's journey is unique, and these centres tailor their services to meet individual needs. A team of healthcare professionals, including doctors, nurses, physiotherapists, and dietitians, collaborate to design a comprehensive care plan for every resident. This individualized approach ensures that patients receive the specific treatments, therapies, and attention required for their speedy recovery.

2. State-of-the-Art Facilities and Equipment

Transition Care Centres in Bangalore boast state-of-the-art facilities and advanced medical equipment. From well-equipped physiotherapy units to modern rehabilitation spaces, these centres offer a conducive environment for patients to regain their strength and mobility. Cutting-edge technology aids in precise monitoring and tracking of patients' progress, enabling healthcare professionals to adjust care plans as needed for optimal outcomes.

3. Skilled and Compassionate Healthcare Professionals

The success of Transition Care Centres largely hinges on the expertise and compassion of their healthcare professionals. In Bangalore's leading centres, the staff is meticulously selected, ensuring that they possess the necessary skills and experience to handle various medical conditions and post-surgery care. Moreover, they exhibit genuine empathy, providing emotional support to patients during their recovery journey, and instilling confidence and positivity.

4. Comprehensive Rehabilitation Programs

Recovery is not just about healing the physical body; it also involves nurturing mental and emotional well-being. Transition Care Centres offer comprehensive rehabilitation programs that encompass physiotherapy, occupational therapy, speech therapy, and mental health support. These holistic programs address various aspects of recovery, fostering independence and helping patients regain their quality of life.

5. Safe and Hygienic Environment

The environment plays a vital role in recovery, especially for individuals with weakened immune systems. Transition Care Centres prioritize hygiene and safety protocols, maintaining clean and sanitized spaces to prevent infections and ensure the well-being of residents. This focus on safety instils confidence in patients and their families, allowing them to focus solely on the recovery process.

6. Nutritious and Customized Diet Plans

Proper nutrition is essential for healing and rebuilding the body. One of the benefits of transition care in Bangalore is they provide nutritious and customized diet plans to suit each patient's specific dietary requirements. Dietitians work closely with patients to develop meal plans that aid recovery, promote healthy eating habits, and cater to any medical restrictions or conditions.

7. Social Engagement and Emotional Support

Recovery can be a challenging time, both physically and emotionally. Transition Care Centres acknowledge the significance of social engagement and emotional support in the healing process. They organize various activities, group therapies, and interactions to keep residents socially engaged, fostering a sense of community and belonging. The emotional support provided by staff and fellow residents contributes significantly to patients' overall well-being.

8. Smooth Transition to Home Care

As the name suggests, Transition Care facilities act as a bridge between hospital care and home. Once patients' health reaches a stable point, the centres facilitate a smooth transition to home care. Discharge planning is meticulously executed to ensure patients have the necessary support, medications, and follow-up appointments in place. This seamless transition allows patients to continue their recovery journey comfortably in their familiar environment.

9. Quality Time for Family Involvement

During hospital stays, family members often find it challenging to dedicate quality time to support their loved one's recovery. Transition Care Centres provide an opportunity for family involvement in the recovery process. With round-the-clock care and support from healthcare professionals, family members can actively participate in therapies and exercises, strengthening the bond between patients and their loved ones.

10. Transforming Recovery and Healthcare Landscape

Transition Care Centres in Bangalore have emerged as a transformative force in the healthcare landscape, redefining the concept of recovery after hospitalization. Their comprehensive and patient-centric approach has shown remarkable results in improving outcomes and speeding up recovery times. By addressing individual needs and fostering an environment of compassion and support, these centres play a vital role in helping patients regain their independence and lead fulfilling lives post-recovery.

Conclusion 

Transition Care Centres in Bangalore are revolutionizing the recovery process, offering a lifeline to patients as they transition from hospital to home. With personalized care, cutting-edge facilities, and skilled healthcare professionals, these centres provide the perfect setting for patients to heal and regain their strength. As the demand for high-quality post-hospitalization care increases, the impact of transition care for the elderly will continue to be felt across the healthcare landscape, setting new benchmarks in recovery and wellness.

[haircarecetres-blog]

Wig Shop Near Me: Hair Care Centre — Your Trusted Source for Quality Wigs

Since our establishment in 2006, We Hair Care Centre has been a trusted manufacturer and supplier of hair wigs for both men and women.

Our product range includes wigs for women and men, men’s hair patches, hair extensions, keratin hair extensions, Remy hair extensions, and hair treatments such as hair bonding and hair fixing.

We are highly regarded by our valued clients for the excellence of our products and services. Our entire product range is crafted under expert supervision, utilizing premium materials and adhering to stringent quality control procedures. We also stay attuned to current trends and the preferences of our clients when crafting our hair wigs.

In terms of packaging, we employ only the finest quality materials to safeguard our products from dust, moisture, and various contaminants during transit.

For those searching for a “Wig Shop near me,” We Hair Care Centre is your trusted local source for high-quality wigs.

Contact Details :

Branch 1 : №14/1, Ruddrappa Compound, H.Siddiah Road, Bangalore — 560002

Branch 2 : №22, Acj Pride Bhel Layout, Bannerghatta Road, Bangalore — 560041

Branch 3 : №46, BHEL Layout, Bannerghatta Rd, Jayanagar, Bengaluru — 560041

Reach Us : +91–9916011339, +91–7975772751, +91–9844350727

[afeelgoodblog]

The Best News of Last Month

Sorry for being not active this month as I had some health problems. I'll start posting weekly now :) Meanwhile here's some good from last month

1. Widow donates $1 billion to medical school, giving free tuition forever

Ruth Gottesman surprised by her late husband's $1 billion in Berkshire stock, decides to donate it in full to the Albert Einstein College of Medicine in the Bronx, New York City's poorest borough. The donation is intended to cover students' tuition indefinitely, ensuring access to medical education for generations.

A video capturing students' emotional reactions to the news, cheering and crying, circulated after the announcement, highlighting the profound impact of the donation on the medical school community.

2. Electric school buses outperform diesel in extreme cold

In Colorado's West Grand School District, electric school buses outperformed their diesel counterparts, particularly in the bitterly cold temperatures of towns like Kremmling, where morning temperatures can drop below -30 degrees Fahrenheit. Despite common concerns about reduced range in extreme weather, the electric buses maintained their battery charge even in these frigid conditions, providing reliable transportation for students.

This success has been welcomed by the school district, as diesel vehicles also face challenges in starting in Colorado's harsh winter weather.

3. Christian Bale unveils plans to build 12 foster homes in California

Christian Bale has led a tour round the new village in California where he plans to build 12 foster homes, as well as two studio flats to help children transition into independent living, and a 7,000 sq ft community centre.

The actor has spearheaded the building of a unique complex of facilities with the aim of keeping siblings in the foster care system together, and ideally under the same roof.

4. Average lifespan of a person with Down syndrome has increased from 25 years in 1983 to 60 years today

Today the average lifespan of a person with Down syndrome is approximately 60 years.

As recently as 1983, the average lifespan of a person with Down syndrome was 25 years. The dramatic increase to 60 years is largely due to the end of the inhumane practice of institutionalizing people with Down syndrome.

5. Greece legalises same-sex marriage

Greece has become the first Christian Orthodox-majority country to legalise same-sex marriage. Same-sex couples will now also be legally allowed to adopt children after Thursday's 176-76 vote in parliament.

Prime Minister Kyriakos Mitsotakis said the new law would "boldly abolish a serious inequality".

6. Massachusetts police K9 tracks scent for over 2 miles to find missing 12-year-old in freezing cold

A Massachusetts police K9 followed her nose to help find a 12-year-old who went missing in frigid temperatures last week, tracking the child’s scent for over two miles, authorities said.

K9 Biza, a female German shepherd, was called on to help after officers learned the child left their home at around 10:30 p.m. Wednesday and was last seen in the Pakachoag Hill area of Auburn, the Auburn Police Department said.

7. Good News for the Socially Anxious: People Like You a Lot More Than You Think They Do, New Research Confirms

The "Lake Wobegon effect" or "illusory superiority" phenomenon highlights people's tendency to overestimate their abilities, but recent research suggests that in social interactions, individuals often underestimate their likability and charm.

Studies indicate that people consistently fail to recognize signals of others' liking toward them, leading to a "liking gap" where individuals believe they are less likable than they actually are.

Techniques such as focusing more on others during conversations and genuinely expressing interest in them can help alleviate social anxiety by shifting the focus away from self-criticism. Ultimately, understanding that others may also experience similar anxieties can lead to a more relaxed and enjoyable social experience.

---

That's it for this week :)

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Buy me a coffee ❤️

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[dandelionsresilience]

Dandelion News - February 1-7

(sorry it’s late, I’ve had pneumonia. between fever and meds, today was the first day in over a week I could even think)

Like these weekly compilations? Tip me at $kaybarr1735 or check out my Dandelion Doodles!

1. These solar streetlights can withstand Category 5 hurricanes

“[The solar-powered streetlights] can identify potential problems before an outage occurs, identify current outages without the need for customer reporting, and allow for remote control of brightness settings. The streetlights are built to remain operational even during widespread power outages.”

2. 15 Democratic state AGs stand by gender-affirming care

“"Federal funding to institutions that provide gender-affirming care continues to be available, irrespective of President Trump’s recent Executive Order," the attorneys general say. […] “Health care decisions should be made by patients, families, and doctors, not by a politician trying to use his power to restrict your freedoms.”

3. India doubles tiger population in a decade

“[India has protected] the big cats from poaching and habitat loss, ensuring they have enough prey, reducing human-wildlife conflict, and increasing living standards for communities near tiger areas.”

4. A North Carolina wildlife crossing will save people. Can it save the last wild red wolves too?

“There are thought to be fewer than 20 red wolves left in the wild[…. S]tate agencies and nonprofit groups [plan to] rebuild a 2.5-mile section of the highway with fencing and a series of culverts, or small underpasses, to allow red wolves – as well as black bears, white-tailed deer and other animals – to pass safely underneath traffic.”

5. Merrimack Valley public transit system will keep bus fares free

“[… C]ollecting fares [used to] cost MeVa about $300,000 a year to maintain fare boxes, pay staffers and afford insurance. Since going fare free in 2022, the report found ridership increased 60% from pre-pandemic levels[….] The program is now funded by state allocated funds, including money from the so called “millionaire’s tax.””

6. Health care is key for youths getting out of prison. A new law helps them get it

“[The new law] requires all states to provide medical and dental screenings to Medicaid- and CHIP-eligible youths 30 days before or immediately after they leave a correctional facility. Youths must continue to receive case management services for 30 days after their release.”

7. World’s smallest otter makes comeback in Nepal after 185 years

“Scientists have for the first time in 185 years confirmed the presence of the Asian small-clawed otter in Nepal[….] The last time the […] the smallest of the world’s 13 known otter species, was recorded by scientists in Nepal was in 1839.”

8. B.C.'s smallest First Nation has big plans for a 'stewardship' economy

“The Kwiakah Centre of Excellence will be the base for a dedicated research station, an experimental kelp farm, the nation’s regenerative forestry operations and its territorial Indigenous guardian, or Forest Keepers, program[…. R]esults will include a 100-year management plan that integrates climate, salmon, kelp, and soil research to protect territorial waters and remaining old growth forests.”

9. Glades County schools deploy 13 new Blue Bird electric school buses

“The students at the Glades County school district will directly benefit from the cleaner, quieter rides, and operational cost savings that electric school buses provide[, as well as] the addition of much-needed air conditioning in the new school buses. Until now, only three buses in the district provided air conditioning[….]”

10. e.l.f. Beauty CEO defends DEI: 'Our diversity is a key competitive advantage'

“The cosmetics company recently held that it would not nix its DEI initiatives[….] "Our mission is to make the best of beauty accessible to every eye, lip and face," [CEO] Amin said. "One of the best ways we know how to live that mission is to have an employee base that reflects the community that we serve."”

January 22-28 news here | (all credit for images and written material can be found at the source linked; I don’t claim credit for anything but curating.)

[idkwhatimdoinghere1655]

Good evening lovely! You better believe I’m back with more Carlos asks. Could I request a Carlos x driver!reader where they’re just two peas in a pod until Carlos sees her in a dress for the first time and is like oh shit?? I am in love??? If you feel :) hope you’re well, your writing is beautiful as always

Just Friends - Carlos Sainz

<word count - 3203>

"Hey midget, how you feeling?" Carlos asked, walking into the medical center and locating where you were sat. "A bit sore, but I'll be fine," you told him. You had spun out pretty badly in FP2, but you were fine.

"Good, good. You still up for the gala tonight?" he asked, hoping you'd say you weren't going. It would give him an excuse not to go too, and he really didn't want to. He always found these events boring.

"Yeah, of course. I'm not missing my first gala," you laughed, knowing he didn't want to go. You were quite excited though, because you'd get to show a classier, more elegant side of you that people didn't get to see. 

"There's a lot of people outside asking to see you. The interviewers want to make sure you're not dead," he laughed, offering a hand to help you off of your chair. The doctor had said you were free to go, but you just had to take it easy and you weren't driving in FP3 tomorrow.

"You make it sound like they actually care about me," you scoffed, leaning into him as you slowly made your way out of the medical centre. The minute you stepped out of the door, you were bombarded with cameras and questions. 

"Y/N! What happened?" one of them yelled as numerous microphones were shoved in your face. "I locked up the rears and spun out, it happens," you shrugged, not wanting to give them anything they could make a story out of. 

"Y/N, are you alright? Can you still race on Sunday?" another one collared as flashes emerged from the back of the crowd. "I won't be driving in FP3, but I'll be in qualifying and the race, just like normal. The car just has front wing damage, so it's all good," you smiled, and you were already bored of being interviewed.

"Thank you," you said, pushing past the crowd and out to the paddock. "I need a coffee," you sighed, and Carlos just chuckled as you hobbled over to the Ferrari motorhome. Flopping down on the couch, personnel came to ask how you were feeling and you were glad to tell them you would be fine. 

"Carlos, go get me a coffee!" You ordered, pointing towards the kitchen. Carlos just scoffed and rolled his eyes at you, sitting down beside you. "No," he flatly declined, running his hands through his hair. 

"Carlos, please," you whined, not wanting to move because of how sore everything felt. 

"Get your own coffee, you might be sore, but you're not useless. Well, you're not completely useless," he chuckled. 

"Ugh, you're the worst friend I could ever have," you told him, pulling yourself slowly off the couch as he laughed at your struggle. 

"Aw, you love me really," he teased, watching as you hobbled over to the kitchen. "Get me one too, yeah?" he asked, and nearly cackled when he heard a 'Fuck off!' come from the kitchen. As you made your coffee, you thought about how much you valued the friendship between you and Carlos. 

He had made the transition into driving for one of the top teams easy, and he was a great role-model for you. You'd never forget how much he had helped you, but you'd never tell him how much he really meant to you. His ego was way too big for that. 

Finally, you had your precious coffee in hand as you spotted Carlos still sat on the couch. "Oh thanks, midget, you're too kind," he said, holding his hand out for you to put the mug in. "Absolutely not, I made this for myself," you said, wobbling back onto the seat.

"No really, you shouldn't have," he continued, taking the mug off you. You're limbs were aching too much to fight back, and you had to watch as Carlos took a big swig of your coffee. "You're a bitch," you playfully spat, whacking him in the arm with all the strength you had left. 

"No, you're a bitch," he jibed, jabbing you in the ribs. It was supposed to be a well-spirited gesture, but it just sent spikes of pain shooting through you. "Carlos, stop it," you told him through gritted teeth, pushing his hand away.

"Shit, sorry, I completely forgot. Are you alright?" he asked, his joking manner completely falling and he became the caring Carlos you got to see every now and then. "Yeah, yeah, just don't do it again. And give me my coffee," you told him, straightening up. 

"Sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you. Here," he apologised again, handing you your coffee mug. He felt really bad, even though it was an accident. It was meant in good fun, but he'd hurt you, and he never liked seeing people he cared about in pain.

You finished off your coffee, and slowly tried to stand up as someone was ready to take you back to the hotel. "Hey, take it slow," he said, wrapping an arm around your waist and helping you up. "Thanks," you smiled, walking out of the building as he helped you. 

He took you all the way over to the car, and he heard you wince in pain as you tried clamber in. "Midget, take it easy, I've got you," he affectionately said, lifting you and putting you in the car so you wouldn't have to move all that much.

"Thanks Carlos, I'll see you later," you said, moving your arms out of his way as he leant over you and clicked your seatbelt in place. "No worries, who else likes you enough to look after you?" he teased, still making fun of you, even when he was being nice.

"Funny, Carlos. Real funny," you laughed, closing the door and waving him goodbye as you drove away. He may have teased you, but he really did care about you.

Being around the paddock wasn't all that fun when you weren't there to mess around with, so Carlos just had to keep himself busy until it was his turn to go home. All he could do was go and pester Lando, since he was one of the only other fun people left around.

Meanwhile, you were slowly hobbling up to your hotel room, which happened to be on one of the top floors. Typical. But once you got into your room, you told yourself you weren't allowed to lie on the bed. If you did, there was no chance you had the strength or willpower to get back up.

You figured a shower would be in order, since it might make you a bit less sore. It took longer than expected to peel your clothes off you, and it was a fairly agonising task. You couldn't lift your arms much higher than your shoulders, and bending anything was near on impossible.

You silently spat expletives as you struggled, finally managing to get into the shower. The warm water helped soothe your muscles somewhat, but it still hurt to move. The suds slipped down your body, and you gave up completely when you dropped the soap on the floor. There was no way you were getting it back.

The best you could do was wet your hair, since lifting your arms was undoable, so washing it was out of the question. When you got out of the shower, you wrapped a towel around you and decided to let your hair air dry. Looking in the mirror, you spotted purply-red splotches peppered down your arm, and there were some disappearing past the towel line.

Taking it off, you saw how they spread across your ribs and a few were sprinkled on your hip, only on the side where you made impact with the tyre barrier. Your plan was to wear a dress with the sides cut out, but that didn't seem like a great idea.

Then again, you didn't have anything else that was fit for a gala, since you had had the dress custom made for this exact occasion. You slowly did your makeup, the most unnatural part of it being the red lipstick that matched the dress.

You decorated your ears, neck, wrists and fingers in gold, before shimmying into your dress. The worst part was doing the zip yourself, since you couldn't stretch your arms around to your back. You managed, but you realised you'd be late and the car was already waiting outside. 

You ran out of time to cover up the bruises on your right side, so you thought it was fine to just leave it. Giving yourself a final once over in the mirror, you loved what you saw. Your dress hugged your every curve perfectly, and the gold with red screamed Ferrari. 

After making your way downstairs, you stumbled into the car and headed off for the gala. Carlos, on the other hand, had just arrived. He looked around, and quickly sussed out that you weren't there. "Hey, mate!" Lando said, pulling him in for a quick hug.

"Hey, are you bored already or is that just me?" Carlos chuckled, taking a glass of champagne off a tray from one of the waiters wandering by. "I was bored the minute I stepped in here, how's Y/N? Have you had a chance to talk to her?" Lando asked.

He was right behind you when you spun out, so he saw the impact that you hit the barrier with. "She's fine, just sore. I'm surprised she's even coming tonight, to be honest," he said, sipping away at the golden liquid. 

"She's coming? That's a surprise. I would have taken that as an excuse not to come," Lando said, almost shocked. "So would I, but she is actually really excited, even though I told her how boring they actually are," Carlos laughed, leaning against the wall beside Lando. 

"Speaking of Y/N, here she is," Lando said, nodding over to the grand entrance of the hall for the gala. Carlos turned his head, and his heart stopped beating in his chest. "That's not Y/N," he scoffed, looking as people's eyes all simultaneously wandered over to where you were stood.

Your eyes darted around the place, trying to find Carlos. "It is, Carlos, look at her," Lando nudged him, and he couldn't believe it was you. Seeing you stood there, the whole room's eyes on you, in the most stunning red dress made him feel something he had never felt before.

He couldn't take his eyes off you as you slowly walked, still trying to locate him. Suddenly, your eyes lit up as they landed on Carlos and Lando. You had that classic, confident swagger that you had always had, but tonight, it was paired with this elegance he never had seen before. 

"Hey guys," you smiled, standing with the two of them. Lando greeted you, and Carlos couldn't form words. The way the dress showed off your figure, the way it showed off your skin, the way it transformed you from a racing driver to a lady. He loved it.

"Carlos? You OK?" you asked, placing a hand on his shoulder to try and snap him out of whatever daydream he was having. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," he shook his head, as if he were trying to shake some sense into it, "How are you? Did you manage to get any rest?" he asked, needing to know you were getting better.

"Everything still hurts to move, but it's fine. You get used to the pain," you softly smiled, subconsciously running your hand over the bruises on your arm. "Well no wonder you're stiff, someone did a number on you," Carlos smirked, trying to ignore the butterflies he was feeling.

You were his friend, and you just looked especially good tonight. It was nothing. "Ha ha, very funny," you said, tilting your body so he couldn't look at them. You were trying to forget about them, but it was a given that someone would point them out.

Carlos noticed your slight discomfort, and wanted to take back his comment. He just wanted to be normal and not act like he was really nervous to speak to you. "Hey, in all seriousness, are you sure you're alright? These look like they hurt," he said, gently bringing your arm closer to him so he could inspect the damage.

He spotted the ones that were scattered about your ribs, and he instantly felt worried. He always cared when you were hurt, but this was... Different. It was almost like he could feel the bruises too, he could feel the pain and he so desperately wanted to take it away.

"It's OK, everything hurts and they don't really add to it," you laughed, not wanting him to worry. "They look pretty sick, to be fair," Lando chipped in, feeling oddly like a third wheel. "Yeah, they kind of do. They're my battle wounds," you laughed, striking the best pose you could.

"Exactly, exactly. Max just got here, so I'm going to go and say hi. I'll catch up with you later," Lando waved, walking away from you. "I didn't miss anything while I was gone, did I?" you asked, knowing there were always shenanigans going on around the track.

"No, no. I was just very bored without you," he smiled. It was true, it wasn't the same without you. You just brought laughter with you wherever you went, and he only noticed when you weren't around. "I think you mean you were bored without anyone to bully," you teased.

"Same thing," he smiled, finishing off the last drops of fizz in his flute. 

"I'm going to go and get a drink, you want anything?" you asked, gazing at him. He looked handsome tonight, the black suit he was wearing making him look completely different. But in the best way possible. 

"Yeah, just another one of these is fine, thanks," he said, and you nodded. He watched as you walked across the hall, as your hips swayed under the light. He observed the way you leant against the bar, and couldn't help but glare at the people whose eyes glossed over you for that second too long. 

He felt an unnecessary pang of jealousy ripple through his body, but he didn't know why. You were his friend, and that was it. Again, he put it down to how good you looked tonight. Sure, you were always pretty, but tonight you were beautiful on a whole other level. 

He had never felt this way for you before. He had always seen you as one of his best friends, someone who he could gossip with and cause mischief with. But now, he was seeing you as someone he wanted to wake up next to every morning, and fall asleep with every night. 

He was completely mesmerised by you. It was like you had bewitched him, enchanted him somehow. You had trapped him under your spell and there was no counter curse. He was doomed to stare at you, as if his eyes were glued to your body for the rest of eternity. 

He watched as you sauntered back up to him, handing him a second flute of champagne. "Thanks," he smiled, trying to compose himself. Mentally, he was telling himself to just be normal, but his heart clearly wasn't getting the memo. 

"No problem, how long were you here before I was?" you asked, sipping away at your espresso martini. You figured the coffee mixed with the alcohol would wake you up a bit, maybe take the edge off. "Not long, maybe ten minutes? They were the most boring ten minutes of my life," he chuckled. 

"Did you just say something nice about me? One glass of bubbly and you're already tipsy? Damn Carlos," you smiled sincerely, nudging him in the ribs. 

"If that's how you react, then I'm never being nice to you again," he laughed, leaning back against the wall. As you drank your drinks, he couldn't help but hang onto your every word. He was noticing the little things now that he had previously overlooked.

Like the way you smiled with your teeth when you were properly laughing, or the way your eye slightly twinkled when talking about a topic you were passionate about. It was the way your mannerisms were just so you. 

As per usual with every gala, there was soft, mainly classical or smooth jazz music in the background. He had already thought ahead and figured out a way to play this off as a joke, but he hoped it wouldn't have to come to it. 

"Dance with me?" He smiled, extending a hand out to you. For a second, you froze, waiting for the punchline. But, you were just met with silence. Carlos thought he had completely messed it up, until you took his hand. 

"Sure," you smiled, standing in closer to him. Tentatively, he placed a hand on your waist, careful not to press too hard on your injuries. He hadn't actually thought about the possibility of you saying yes, funnily enough. 

You looped an arm around his back instead of over his shoulder, not wanting to lift your arms too much. As the pair of you swayed on the spot, entangled in each other's embrace, Carlos was trying to convince himself he wasn't dreaming. 

"You look really nice tonight, I never got the chance to say," you told him, watching the faint beginnings of a blush creep up onto his cheeks. "Thank you, uhm, so do you. You look incredible," he fumbled, preventing himself from speaking anymore, in case he took it too far.

He wanted to tell you that you were absolutely breathtaking, and that he found you unbelievably captivating. He wanted to tell you that he didn't know what had happened, but these feelings had just bombarded him all at once, out of nowhere.   

"Thank you," you said. He did allow his fingers to gently trace around the skin of your waist, and you couldn't help but enjoy the gesture. You shuffled in a little closer, slowly lifting your arm to rest around his shoulder.

It was a lot more comfortable in the end, even if it did cause you some slight pain to put it there. "But I really mean it, you're the prettiest girl here," he complimented, unable to stop himself from telling you. 

You found it slightly odd at the way he was acting, since Carlos was always so confident - borderline cocky. But now, he was stuttering and blushing. You thought it was sweet to see him in a different light, and this was refreshing to see that even confident people have their nervous moments. 

There was something about the way he looked at you, something that wasn't like normal. He always had this mischievous glint in his eyes, but tonight, it had been replaced with something else. It was soft and warm, but you couldn't find a word to define what it was. 

It was unusual, but not unwelcome. 

The dazzling smile that tugged at the corner of your lips at his compliment sent his heart into a fit of joy. But then, his heart dropped. It was at this point that he realised, in the span of a night, he had fallen in love with his best friend.

And he didn't think there would be an escape, not by any means. 

A/N - OK I think this is one of my favourite things I have ever written tbh... I am so willing to do a part 2, so lmk if that's something you'd like to see! If you have any requests, feel free to submit and have a wonderful evening/day. Love you! 💖

|masterlist|

[writefightandflightclub]

Release: Duke Leto x fem!reader

Don’t mind me, just thinking about being used like Duke Leto’s personal stress toy. 👀

Warnings: smut, minors DNI.

A/n: This isn’t really a full fic, more another “here’s what I’m thinking about right now” sorta deal. I swear I’ll write a “proper” fic soon. For now here is my very hastily typed train of thought about ever so selflessly serving the kingdom, via delivering a little… stress relief to your Lord. (Fucking. It’s just fucking, basically.)

The Duke arrives back to his quarters, returning from a fraught council meeting. The fate of Caladan is resting on his shoulders, and hours of negotiations are proving -so far- entirely futile.

He’s evidently tense, muscles taut and coiled, brow heavy, mouth curved downward. He’s silent, his words seemingly compressed, held deep beneath a layer of frustration. He enters the room and storms to his desk, standing over it and pressing his palms into the surface, shoulders hunched over and head hung low. He does not acknowledge you but you approach him; cautiously. Not because you fear his stony demeanour, the breaths seething from his flared nostrils. His hands clenching into the surface of the desk. You never fear him, but you do seek to ease his transition. To ease him towards the relief you can provide him.

You step up behind him, slotting yourself against him, resting your head in the spot between his shoulder blades. Working some of the tension from his tight muscles with your hands.

As soon as you touch him, it is instantaneous, as though he cannot pause. His words still not coming but his body working on his behalf, his broad hands seeking you out. Grabbing you. Manoeuvring you. No time even to kiss you, to look at you.

His fingers raking clumsily and urgently at the hem of your skirts as he roughly folds your body over the desk edge. Pushing you down. His shaking fingers clawing at his own belt buckle, air seething through his teeth as he contacts his throbbing, painfully hard length. He needs you. Needs you like this, with your tits spilling out of your dress. The meat of your hips and ass grabbed up in his clawing palms.

Fuck he needs you.

The council are so rigid, so resistant, and you? You are so… soft, flesh so forgiving. So pliant for him, so easy, moulding to his every whim and desire. He grunts again, no words still as you hear him spit, and you cry out in surprise as you feel the sudden slick of his warm fingers as he applies this cursory lubrication to your heat.

“My Lord,” you purr, all too willing to fulfil him. “Working so hard for the Kingdom. Let me help you relax.”

He needs no encouragement.

You yowl as he fills you. Roughly, and sudden. All the way to the hilt, spreading you open on his girth. You stretch your arms out before you, fingers splayed and tightly gripping the opposite edge of the desk to brace yourself as your thighs are shunted against the other - an all too pleasant bite.

You moan for him, the sound liquid, so smooth, so soft, so compliant, and so at odds with his rigid, unforgiving thrusts. With the hard shape of his frustration, and your slickening cunt offering no resistance.

The Duke presses his hand to the centre of your back, pinning you, your cheek crushed against the table, moans covering all of his official papers like a balm over the abrasion of his duties.

Leto snaps his hips then, slamming himself into you, thrusts needy and oh so careless. So desperate. He grunts as he fills you, stretches you, with no care for anything else but his relief.

He slows. Only for a moment. A slow, tantalising drag out of you, his swollen head notching him inside as you hear him -you think- relinquishing his uniform jacket to the floor, buttons clacking against the tiles. You imagine the sight behind you of Leto in his white, open-collared shirt, the hem billowing over his full, clenching ass cheeks as he resumes his thrusts, working you at a brutal pace. You imagine the sweat gathering across the bared “v” of his chest, glistening on his skin.

He grunts again now as his thrusts become sloppy. Precarious, with the way the wetness is gathering between your thighs. Indeed, momentarily, he slips out of you, and he curses at the loss. Leans forward to gather up your boneless, pliant body, bringing your back to press at his torso.

You feel the tacky heat seeping through layers. Feel the rake of his beard and his hot breath against the back of your neck as he eases himself back inside of you. Slowly, slowly, slowly, with ragged stunted breaths against your skin.

Wraps his arms around your chest to pin you securely to him as he fucks into you - harder now, pace gradually climbing. At just the right pace. Pinning your trembling, waning body harshly between him and the desk edge. Fucking up into you so brutally now that the furniture is shunted across the floor; but he doesn’t stop.

Just keeps thrusting, up and into you so hard that the heels of your feet lift off of the floor, toes against the cold tiles. So hard that you almost tip forward from the force of it - would, if he wasn’t strong enough to brace you. To keep your where he needs you as he uses you like this. Like a stress toy. Like you only exist for his relief.

Then, you feel a soft, deep, shuddered moan bloom against the nape of your neck. He bites you there, against your throat, teeth marking and mouth sucking as you feel him convulse inside of you. As he shoves himself and his seed up into you so deep, like he never means it to find its way out.

You come with him, your release moulding around him, clenching down on him, and dragging further aftershocks from him. He shudders against you momentarily, and you feel all of the tension drop from his body, shed like his layers.

A soft hum and a soft kiss is applied to your sweat-tacky neck as he releases you; gently - ever so gently now - draping your limp form over the desk as your ragged breaths continue to flare in your rib cage. You slow your breathing. Enjoy the lingering bloom of residual pleasure in your centre, your core honeyed and dripping.

When you feel able, you turn to him again, perching yourself on the desk and facing him. Wanting to see him undone for you, but finding him redressing in his uniform - and his composure - instead.

Ah. It becomes suddenly clear to you. “The Council is still ongoing?”

That niggle resettles in his brow. “I stole a moment, but the negotiations will not cease.”

“And you will return with your dick wet?”

His hands reach for you again, but this time, it is to cup your face tenderly. To look down, with amusement, at your skirts all in disarray. Your breasts spilling from your corseted top, and he dips to gather you with a broad palm, freeing you and mouthing softly at your nipple, beard brushing against your tender flesh. You see the ghost of a smile cross his features, despite his busied mind and mouth. “I will return the better for it.”

Mouthing at you more hungrily now, Leto dips quickly to your heat, settling his head under your skirts and sealing his warm mouth over your heat like he’s well aware he’s running out of time. He shivers a tongue through your folds, tasting you. Your core throbs as a resonant hum bleeds through your centre.

“I must go,” he says regretfully, straightening up. Buttoning up his jacket - and his composure.

“Wait, my love,” you call, before he turns away. He obliges, and you make quick work of it, smoothing the undone curl - which has fallen across his forehead - back into place. “Perfect.”

He does not smile; but his eyes do glow for you. “If a conclusion is not yet reached, we intend for another recess at ten.”

His meaning is quite clearly implied, and you are eager for it already.

“I’ll be waiting, my Lord.”

You send him away to fulfil his duties, all the better for you having fulfilled yours.

Truly, it hardly seems like work at all.

[i-like-forcefem]

How do I transition when I work in a blue collar industry with a bunch of people with some not so accepting ideals (they're not bad people, just victims of upbringing) but I really like this job and I don't want to lose it because I make good money and learn useful things and have a really cool Jamaican boss and the most interesting supervisor ever who puts up with all my autism questions, but I also can't stand whenever someone refers to me as "him" and I feel physical pain whenever I look in a mirror or hear my voice?

Asking for a friend of course

Oh gosh

I’m not sure- at the end of the day your safety and happiness comes first!

But I do believe there’s a middle ground to be reached, for example you could socially transition online first!!! Pick out a name for yourself and run your blog like the girl you are!

And id also recommend trying to get a meeting with a gender care centre (no idea how to properly call em, but a place that can diagnose you or provide hrt!) and ask about what could be done

For example even if hrt isn’t on the table, you could still get laser hair removal! And maybe grow out your hair while you’re at it!

You can also buy some cute clothes to wear at home on the weekends, voice train so you can sound how you want to sound on voice calls with friends or maybe even get a really low dose of hrt that just softens your skin a bit, making you feel a bit more like yourself

Of course there’s also an argument to be made that transitioning safely, could be higher priority then staying at this one job you enjoy?

Id recommend maybe looking into different countries as well! Try to see if you can maybe move to a safer culture where you can just transition without any worries (im in the Netherlands and here things are significantly better then in the states, im pre everything and already wear a to my uni to school and alls fine!)

Wouldn’t need to worry about safety either as long as I follow the rules all girls (even cis) should (stay in public during the day, or with friends)

But just, you’ll need to see for yourself what would make you happiest, for now do the things you can without risk

And see if you want to keep going! Since a fun job is incredibly important- but it’s just a job, and feeling good in your own skin, feeling like you are you, is more important- perhaps

It’s up to you to figure out! I’m proud you asked this! Good luck cutie

Oh “you” being your friend of course!

[antonartic]

Patience ˖ ࣪⊹𐙚 | J. Sungchan

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

⊰ pairing: Sungchan x Fem!Reader

⊰ genre: smut, fluff, one-shot | 2.7k words

⊰ contains: situationship, fwb, mentions of unprotected sex, overworked reader, one night stand, cursing, mentions of jealousy, dry humping, use of pet names, transition from fwb to relationship(?).

𓂃˖𓂃˖𓂃˖𓂃⊹𓂃𖥔𓂃˖⁺‧₊˚ 𐙚 ˚₊‧⁺˖𓂃𖥔𓂃⊹𓂃˖𓂃˖𓂃˖𓂃

you wanted to concentrate on yourself and on what to do with your existence, take care of your future by studying extra hard and working your ass off to get a permanent job so you could “relax” and enjoy the privilege of a stable life.

you were so fond of this idea that you didn’t give yourself time to actually take brakes and have fun like people your age did on a daily basis.

until you felt this need to take your mind off just a little bit. and with that you went to a party.

that’s where you found mister Jung Sungchan.

you couldn’t deny that he was just too handsome for your liking and that he caught your attention definitely more than you would have imagined.

you where the one who approached the guy who was on his own at the bar counter in the centre of the club and you where the one who agreed to take this opportunity to invite him and fuck him in your not very big but welcoming apartment.

yes, the next day he was gone, but you also noticed the piece of paper placed on the night table near your bed. that must be his number, you thought while examining the piece.

and that’s how you started seeing each other, mostly to fuck and have a great time.

you weren’t looking for anything serious at the moment, not when your career depended on how this year went.

eventually, you ended up falling hard for him. and when i say hard, i mean HARD. like the high five exchanged between your ass cheeks and the cold tiles of the ground.

he was on the same page as you, though. he wanted you not only as a fuck buddy; he wanted to be beside you as long as he could.

so he told you.

and he got hit by a truck right on his gorgeous face.

you explained the reason for the current rejection and he accepted your motives. but don’t even think that was over for you because he was not giving up and you were not going to let him go. it was just a matter of time.

and it was hard for him. hard to know that you weren’t officially his even though you ended up with his cum leaking out of you almost every night. it was hard for him to know that you could always leave him, go with other men and let them fill you up to the brim like he always did.

he wanted that reassurance; he wanted that step up in your relationship so fucking bad.

even though it was so fucking hard for him, he waited and respected your boundaries. let alone the countless nights where he lulled you to sleep by repeating that you were his no matter what because there was no one that could fill your hole better than “your sungchan”.

but you liked falling asleep just like that. it put you at ease because it reassured you that he wasn’t going anywhere.

then the year finally ended and you finally reached your goals. stability was your new lifestyle now.

so you called Sungchan to invite him to your apartment for the usual, but this time was going to be different. you finally had time to enjoy each other’s company fully for the first time, but he didn’t know this yet.

when he rang the bell of your front door, you RAN to open it and you were welcomed by that warm smile of his. fluffy jacket tight around him, signaling the cold wether that reigned outside.

without hesitation, you took him inside by grabbing him from his arms and rubbing his sides as a way of warming the boy up. after a while he was freed of that unnecessary piece of clothing that was no longer needed.

he approached you to finally greet you the proper way by giving you that little peck that you always loved to receive. his hands fell automatically on your waist, adorning it like a belt, and yours intertwined at the back of his neck, playing with the small strands of his brownish hair.

“missed you.” he said almost in a whisper, and you responded back with “i missed you too. it’s been a while since we’ve been this close,”

and he chuckled at your words. meanwhile, you didn’t notice the closeness of your faces, but you didn’t mind it. in fact, you wanted to close that distance. now and forever.

so you did.

and there you were, kissing each other in a way that was almost new to you two. this kiss was different from the other rough ones he gave you. rough kisses given in fear of overpassing your boundaries. but since this affectionate act was initiated by you, he didn’t feel that way anymore.

and he found himself melting in your, now, red lips.

it was a matter of time for it to become more. after asking you indirectly to open up your mouth slightly for him to give his tongue access, he started to perlustrate it, taking control like he always did.

his hands were now on your butt, giving it a light squeeze now and then, while his kisses were getting lower and lower, stopping right in the middle of your neck.

there he stayed a while, sucking on your skin like a vampire in need of blood, making sure to leave some dark marks that will not fade too quickly.

“Sungchan,” you couldn’t stop the giggles that escaped from your mouth seeing his eagerness erupt in those filthy actions. “Don’t you think it would be better on my bed than in the middle of my living room?” and he nodded, dazed by the sweetness of your skin.

he picked you up, making sure your legs were hooked around his waist in order not to drop you on the way there. an annoying smirk was starting to appear on his face and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at him jokingly. it didn’t took him long before arriving at the destination and lying you down on the mattress of your bed.

but you had different plans.

so you pulled him over, making sure he didn’t fall too hard and, most importantly, on you. he was now resting on his elbows to prop him up and watch you carefully, trying to guess what your next moves were going to be.

you straddled his lap and, without thinking too much, you reattached your lips to his in another loving and lustful kiss, this time accompanied by the messy movements of your clothed crotch rubbing against his.

his hands found again the place where they belonged, your hips, but this time to help you get him erect enough for you and the plans you two had in mind.

it didn’t take him long, though. in an instant, he was rock hard under you and ready to go. you wanted him and his dick deep inside you as soon as possible.

he detached from your mouth and quickly reached for a condom that he knew was in the night table beside your bed, thanks to all the other nights he spent here, in the same situation as you were now.

meanwhile you were already at work, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants just to lower them enough for his cock to be freed from the tight pressure of the materials.

he hissed, feeling the cold hair hitting right on his swollen red tip. he wasted no time grabbing his member with the intention of jerking off and putting the condom on but you stopped him before he could’ve done anything.

“wanna do it for you” you said, looking at him with your big doe eyes. the same eyes that made him gulp from desperation and could’ve made him cum right then and there. “go on then” he stated, gaining again the lost confidence, handing you the little condom pack he held in his left hand, between the index and middle finger.

you grabbed his cock gently, giving it a light experimental squeeze before giving it a few strokes. when you decided it was ready, you sit up on your knees and opened the blue packaging. you pinched the head of the condom while your other hand worked on Sungchan’s cock to make sure it was as still as possible. then you placed the condom on the tip, carrying on rolling the rest along the solid shaft.

without wasting any time, you proceeded on taking your his sweats and panties off, tossing them aside. hovering again over sungchan, you aligned his thick head to your entrance and, without warning, you slided down his length slowly.

“shit, baby. warming me up so good.”

he was big, above average. maybe almost TOO big. he could’ve ripped you in half if he only wanted to, but he was always so attentive on making sure he didn’t hurt you in any way.

not only he had a huge cock but he also was tall and strong, especially compared to you. the sight of your little frame on him made him even hornier than he was before, as if it was even possible.

after waiting a while for you to adjust to his size, you started moving, always making sure you both were enjoying the moment.

“you’re doing super good, baby. take your time, mh?” he praised while caressing your hair and cheeks. he rested his thumb on one of them, rubbing it with the purpose of comforting you.

you leaned against his hand while yours where exploring his abs under his hoodie to steady yourself. he stared intensely at you while you where struggling to keep your eyes open. the only thing that kept them open was the amusement of seeing Sungchan’s reactions. you needed approval and proof that you where indeed making him feel good. therefore, you couldn’t miss out on his facial expressions: his eyes half closed, thick eyebrows furrowed and pink plumped lips slightly agape, forming an “o”.

you continued rocking your hips but this time it was harder and more intense, starting to feel pleasure building up in the pit of your stomach. you could feel his large cock stretching you out in a way that never felt this good before, more sensitive to his touch than usual, and able to feel every vein that ran through his hard length inside you.

millions of praises poured out of his mouth incoherently due to the fact that his brain was moving faster than his tongue.

“doing so well for me as usual,”

“taking it so well,”

“like you were made for me, oh my fucking god,”

at this point you two were both so close to your climaxes. moaning without a care in the world. moving so fast that you could hear the bad squeaking, you almost cursed the universe for not buying another one when you could have.

“i’m not gonna last long,” he said and you felt the need to help him reach that peak as soon as possible, “me too, baby. need to cum on you so bad.”

you leaned forward to his left ear and started nibbling at the soft skin of his earlobe. it drove him crazy and the vibrations that were sent from your moans through his body weren’t helping either. “i’m DEFINITELY not gonna last long- shit!”

he grabbed your hips so tightly that you could feel your skin burn underneath the pads of his fingers. and with that he started fucking into you, biceps flexing from the action. you stayed there, lying on his muscular chest and making him take care of you for the first time that night.

“let’s cum together, yeah?” he questioned, already knowing that you wouldn’t oppose to his proposal. “i’m cumming, Sungchan,” and he chuckled seeing you curled up into him, letting him take charge of making you two feel good.

“let it out for me.” and those were the only words you needed to hear before releasing all over him, slight shockwaves cursing through your whole body and passing on to him. he couldn’t resist feeling your cunt clench so tight and hard around his length, squeezing it like there was no tomorrow. and that’s what made him cum, spurting out hot liquid and painting the condom white.

his thrusts became sloppier each passing second, trying his best to calm both of you, and his dick was getting soft softer.

his closed eyes opened to immediately check if you were alright and if you enjoyed yourself even though he already knew the truth. his arms wrapped around your figure, holding you tight onto him.

you stayed like that for a while, you still panting from exhaustion and him looking at the ceiling while his hand caressed your back. after a while, he looked down at you, waiting for you to notice his gaze and when you finally looked back up at him, he smiled and immediately turned his attention back to the ceiling.

“what?” you questioned, confused.

“nothing. it’s just that you’re pretty when you’re all up on me like a koala,” and his gaze fell on you once again.

“shut up… idiot.” you rolled your eyes, low-key enjoying the cute compliment but not being able to show it.

and a few minutes passed by in blissful silence, just you two enjoying the quietness and tranquility of the moment without needing to say anything at all.

but you had something to say, and it made you nervous despite knowing that this was what you and Sungchan wanted from the start.

“so… i was thinking that we kinda look good together, don’t you think? i mean… just a thought,”

out of nervousness, you started drawing little circles with your index finger on Sungchan’s clothed chest.

“that’s what i always say but you keep rejecting me,” you could hear the ironic pout in his tone

“i’m telling you now, we look good together. we should do something about it.”

and finally you had the courage to look at him, raising your head and holding yourself up with your forearms. his face expressed confusion and at the same time realization. where you really proposing this to him? usually, it was him who would make comments about the two of you, but now… it was you?

he straightened himself up with one arm while the other never left your body, still embracing you. you followed his movements, finding yourself once again in his lap. both of you looking in each other eyes.

“are you actually suggesting to…”

“i’m saying that i want us to be together. now i’m ready. fuck if i am.”

Sungchan’s hand found its way back to your cheek, still massaging the same spot that, at this point, was consumed from the delicate act.

he smiled widely, moving his attention back and forth from your eyes to your lips. and finally, he kissed you. with that sweet kiss healing your soul and heart, you couldn’t help but smile too in between kisses. your hand reached the side of his face to caress it.

you broke away from each other’s lips and returned to the previous cuddling position.

“i want to celebrate this the right way, what do you think?”

he told you, imagining your first cute lil date maybe in a special café, enjoying a drink and some sweet dessert, or maybe in a fancy restaurant at night, in a reserved place out of the centre of the room, having no distractions interrupting the intimate moment.

you giggled as if you could see his thoughts.

“everything is alright for me as long as you’re there by my side.”

you stated softly, being too shy to say such a bold affirmation. and you could already imagine his smile quadruplicate in size.

you both fell asleep just like that, just thinking about each other and the new life that awaited the both of you.

𓂃˖𓂃˖𓂃˖𓂃⊹𓂃𖥔𓂃˖⁺‧₊˚ 𐙚 ˚₊‧⁺˖𓂃𖥔𓂃⊹𓂃˖𓂃˖𓂃˖𓂃

a/n: this was requested but i accidentally deleted the ask👹 anyway, thank you anon so much for requesting this💗 i tried my best to write it and i really hope you’ll enjoy it and that it was what you were expecting. i’m sorry for any mistake but english is not my first language. the dialogues are probably shitty but yeah.. any advice is welcomed and if you want to request something, my inbox is always open!

[the-crooked-library]

On Horror, Queerness, Mirrors, and Dracula

Your wish is my command (you may or may not regret this). 

Here’s the thing - I love horror, and I love patterns, and I think the best horror is always in some sense symmetrical.  It might not be obvious, but what’s the point of staring into an abyss if you can’t see your own face reflected back?  The symmetry itself comes in any number of different twists, whether it is familial, communal, erotic, or individual, and most of these apply to Bram Stoker’s Dracula. 

The centre of our novel rests on the Harkers.  So, starting with Jonathan - his experience in Transylvania is a twisted version of his life back home.  Dracula is reserved but eloquent, seemingly caring and occasionally affectionate, he reads train schedules and they spend hours upon hours in conversation; which is a dark mirror to Jonathan’s train schedule-loving, passionate but serious Mina.  It may even be said that the Count is re-enacting a caricature of traditional heteronormative domesticity - he maintains the household, waits on his guest himself, and blows him kisses from the stairs.  His possessiveness of Jonathan is the only way a vampire like Dracula is capable of understanding the bond Jonathan shares with Mina.  The Count states that he, too, feels love; but he is written by a closeted gay man in the late 19th century, so his imitation of married life is both a lie and a tragedy.  He is a shorthand for forbidden, wrong, and corrupting desires. 

At the same time, Mina herself also has a same-sex connection in the beginning of the story, and her relationship with Lucy mirrors the relationship between Jonathan and Dracula.  They cling to each other, in a sense; despite being excited about the prospect of their impending marriages, there is some trepidation associated with this new stage in life.  A common part of a dowry used to be a shroud, simply due to the frequency at which Victorian wives died in childbirth soon after the wedding; and even provided a survival, the transition to married life was still a loss of innocence.  As such, Lucy’s affection for Mina is the last expression of her girlhood, and she herself is the personification of Mina’s.  Lucy is, therefore, the direct antithesis of the Count; her death and subsequent rising change Mina the same way that Dracula does Jonathan, establishing a firm duality between the Harkers and their respective vampires. 

The other characters are reflections of each other, as well; the suitors defend while the brides terrify, Van Helsing wants to preserve life while Renfield wishes to consume it - and even further, the old Hungarian lady cares enough about  a stranger to give Jonathan a cross for protection, while Lucy’s own mother lets Dracula into the house herself, selfishly ignorant of her daughter’s needs and the doctor’s orders.  Another parallel is drawn again between Jonathan and Renfield, who represents directly what he could have been, had he not escaped from Dracula’s grasp; which makes Renfield’s vehement, last-ditch attempt to protect Mina perhaps all the more poignant.  In him, she sees the resilience of Jonathan’s humanity; while he gets to see exactly what she could become after her turning  - in Dracula himself.  These dualities are integral to the story’s thematic structure, and therefore inextricable from each character’s development. 

There is really too much to say about each individual dynamic to fit into one rant, but for the current purposes, I can forgo the details.  They all converge as it is on Jonathan and Mina, and thus, the central theme of this story is devotion.  If Jonathan had truly broken, like Renfield, Mina would have stayed by his side; and if she had fully turned, like Dracula, he would have adored whatever shred of her still remained.  In madness and in death, in happiness and sorrow, in sickness and in health - until the echoes start to sound like wedding vows. 

@stripedshirtgay​

@bluberimufim​

[fangirlingalittletoohard]

Crowley & Aziraphale calming you down when you’re feeling anxious…

they notice something’s wrong almost immediately.

Aziraphale’s the best to talk to you when you’re like this (he’s much calmer than Crowley, who panics when something is the slightest bit wrong with you).

“what is it, my dear?” Aziraphale asks gently, taking your hands and kissing your knuckles as Crowley pulls you into his lap and circles his arms around your waist protectively.

Crowley is kissing your head, breathing slowly so you can feel it.

You’re never quite sure of how they do it, but you become hyper-aware of their slow heart rates and breathing and it forces your body to try to regulate itself.

Tears are brushed away softly by Aziraphale’s gentle fingers.

At first, they’re telling you that it will be okay, that you’re safe, that they won’t let anything bad happen to you (Crowley’s muttering under his breath that he will personally see to it that anyone who makes you feel anxious will come to an untimely end).

they slowly transition to general chatter. it works almost every time. Aziraphale is telling you both about the book he’s picking up later in the week and Crowley’s asking you if you both want to take a trip to the garden centre nearby so he can pick out more plants.

after a while you feel your shoulders drop and you’re fully engaged in the conversation.

Aziraphale is still running his hands over your legs as you speak, knowing that you love to be touched as often as is physically possible.

Crowley is tickling your back, making you shudder.

you kiss them both gently and they understand that it is your way of thanking them for taking such good care of you.

[light-yaers]

Take Care: Chapter Three

Fic Masterpost | AO3 | Chapter List

Warnings: swearing, eventual smut, emotional themes.

A/N: Have another one because I can’t stand not posting chapters when I have them written. Thanks for all the love, seriously! Absolutely insane that this has blown up so fast. I’ve written 30k in a week. God damn. 

Word Count: 7.7k+

Chapter Three

“Fast and painless, right?” you said, looking at Roy. The two of you stood at the end of the red carpet, before the entrance to the charity ball. Paparazzi yelled at players on the carpet, snapping pictures incessantly.

“That’s the plan. I’ve been doing this for too fucking long. Trust me,” he replied, and just for that brief moment, you found that you trusted Roy Kent wholeheartedly. He stuck his arm out for you. “Come on.”

You laid your hand on his forearm, slinking it together with his own, until you were secure. Roy peered down at you subtly, just for a second, before he started walking. You had no choice but to follow him and match his pace. The two of you booked it down the red carpet, ignoring the sudden flashes of cameras, and the way they were practically begging Roy for a photo.

“No, no, no, no,” he whittled off, and when that didn’t work, he transitioned to, “Fuck off! Fuck off! Fuck off! Fuck off!”

Inside, it was much more subdued. You were thankful for Roy’s support beforehand, even if you felt so fucking silly now that you’d made it. People mingled happily, shaking each other’s hands in introduction. It was easier than you expected. You sat at a table with the guys, alongside Ted and Keeley. Roy placed two beers in front of you, before he dropped down into the seat next to yours with a sigh.

“Made it in one piece,” he said, picking up a beer and bringing it to his lips.

“I’ll definitely be using that method in future,” you replied.

“What, when you become a professional footballer?”

You scoffed. “Exactly.”

You all quietened when Rebecca took the stage. She looked positively frazzled, but you couldn’t deny that she still held such a presence over a room. You admired her, truthfully. Taking over the football club, ignoring whatever shit the tabloids wrote about her, still taking charge where she could.

As she welcomed everyone to the charity ball, a sinking feeling hit your gut in the form of a man in a white fucking suit. He waltzed into the room like he owned it, whispered hello’s to people who recognised him. Suddenly, it was as if no one was listening to Rebecca, instead replacing their gazes onto the man in white, who chose to stand directly in the centre of the room.

“Rebecca, darling!” he announced suddenly, and that’s when your face soured.

Rebecca stopped, frozen. “Rupert,” she said, gobsmacked.

As they kept up their back and forth, you leaned closer to Roy. He shot you a side-eyed glance, taking in the utter confusion on your face. “Who the fuck is that?” you asked him in a whisper.

“Fucking hell,” Roy whispered in reply. “You don’t even know who that is?”

You shrugged, catching his eye. “I told you, I know fuck all.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Roy let out. “That’s Rupert bloody Mannion. Ex-owner of Richmond, and–”

“Rebecca’s ex-husband,” you finished his sentence, before grimacing to oblivion. You’d never seen his face until now, and you silently thanked some god out there that you hadn’t. “I think he’s the biggest sleaze I’ve ever fucking seen.”

Roy choked on his drink loudly, alerting the room to his presence suddenly. Rupert stopped gabbing over Rebecca’s speech to look at his old team Captain, and let out a sickening chuckle. You elbowed Roy in his ribs abruptly, and he looked up instantly.

“Is that Roy Kent?” Rupert asked, projecting his voice around the room. He spread his arms out in welcome. “Oh, how good it is to see your face! And the rest of you boys, too.” He addressed the rest of the table, strolling closer to all of you.

The guys stayed where they were, silent and glued to their seats. You, however, wished you could leave immediately.

“I swear, Roy,” you whispered frantically, as Rupert continued to approach. “If this man so much as looks at me I’m going to whack him in the–”

“And do my eyes deceive me, Roy, or is that a lovely lady that you’ve brought with you?” Rupert continued. You wanted to vomit.

Quickly, you looked to Rebecca on stage. She was utterly frozen, dealing with both the shock and anger of having Rupert arrive out of the blue, only to upstage her in the middle of her welcome speech. You didn’t have to be a rocket scientist to know that Rupert was a narcissistic piece of shit, just from one bloody look. You’d been around men enough to spot a red flag in a sea of blue and red Richmond shirts.

Roy straightened himself out, as Rupert placed his hand on the top of his chair. He peered down at the pair of you, smiling in a way that could only be described as utterly disgusting.

“Rupert,” Roy said plainly, ignoring his prior question. You kept your eyes forward, ignoring the sickening look that Rupert was flicking between yourself and Roy.

“Nice to see you again, Captain.” He slammed his hand down on Roy’s shoulder once, before he went back to addressing the entire room.

You let out a pent up breath that you didn’t realise you’d been holding. Beside you, Roy relaxed back into his seat the further Rupert walked from your table. At the same time, the both of you reached for your beers. You both downed the remainder of your bottles, dropping them, utterly empty, back onto the tabletop afterwards.

“Another beer?” Roy asked, and you got his message immediately. He was saying let’s get the fuck out of here.

“Please.” You stood immediately, not giving a shit when you sauntered past Rupert, with Roy on your tail.

The two of you stayed at the bar until things had died down, which by all accounts, was a long fucking time. The room had gone back to its normal level of stardom, and Rebecca had managed to finish the rest of her welcome address. A few empty bottles covered the bar where you and Roy stood, gabbing away as if you were at the fucking pub, instead of at a prestigious charity event.

You clutched your fingers over your mouth, trying to hold in a colossal laugh. In front of you, Roy kept digging deeper into the story he was telling you, and it was only making it worse. You were laughing so hard that you were sure you’d burst, and when you got a few seconds of peace to glimpse at him, you were happy to see the smallest curl of a smile on his lips, too. You’d been talking about boy bands for an hour and found yourself thinking– if it stayed like this for the rest of the night, then you’d be happy.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” you burst finally, letting the last of your agonising chuckles trickle from your mouth. You clutched your middle, feeling the welcomed pain of too much laughter. “I used to be a massive fan of them growing up, you know?”

“One Direction?” Roy questioned, almost like he was offended, until he skidded his eyes down you quickly. “Oh, well, that makes sense. You were a teenage girl at one point, surely?”

You scoffed, actually offended. “What do you mean surely?” you let out. “Incase you forgot already, Roy, I do happen to be a woman.”

“No fucking waaaay,” he breathed out, faking amazement. “That’s insane.”

A few trickles of laughter erupted between the two of you, but were abruptly cut off by a flustered Rebecca. She bombarded towards the bar, as if on a warpath. “The auction is in a minute, Roy. Back to your seats,” she directed, leaving both of you with a scolded look upon your faces.

“The auction?” you asked. “I had no idea you were such an… art curator.”

Roy picked up two new beer bottles, as the two of you started heading back to your table. “It’s not a bloody art auction.”

“What kind of auction is it, then?”

As if on cue, Rupert emerged onto the stage to a round of applause from the audience. You couldn’t help your scowl, but you perked up when you saw Jamie follow him onto the stage. “Now, now, it’s time for the best event of the night– the auction! And first up, we have none other than Richmond striker, number nine, Jamie Tartt!” Rupert announced, and your quizzical look turned into full on disgust.

As you and Roy sat back down, you erupted. “Are you fucking kidding me? They’re auctioning off you guys?”

“It’s a tradition,” Keeley said, though she didn’t look any more impressed as you.

“Oh, sorry. It’s just when someone says charity that doesn’t usually bring trafficking to mind.” You leaned back in your chair and crossed your legs. Roy handed you a beer, but you were so annoyed that you didn’t even think to thank him.

“Shall we start the bidding off at one thousand pounds?” Rupert continued, and an all-out bidding war began– just not with Keeley.

For a moment, it was only an older woman who was interested, but when a different woman- younger, blonder, fitter– got involved, Keeley could barely contain her anger. She cleared her throat, looking at you sternly. “Not fucking today,” she said, before she raised her own paddle. “Five thousand pounds!” she bid.

“Eight thousand!” the blonde behind her said, and all it did was piss Keeley off further.

“Ten!” Keeley said.

“Eleven,” the other woman said.

It was constant, and as stressful as it was sat next to Keeley herself, Jamie was lapping up the fight for himself on stage. He stuck his tongue out arrogantly, taking in the bidding war with nothing less than the smile that he wore on the pitch, right after scoring a goal.

“This is vile,” you commented, and Roy perked his brow at you.

“Even worse when you think about her,” Roy added, pointing to the older woman who had been adamant to snag Jamie for herself. “She wins me every year, and each date has been worse than the fucking last. I had to leave her on the street in Hammersmith last time, ‘cause she’d booked us a cab to go back to hers for dessert.”

You grimaced. “You’re footballers, not fucking escorts.” For a second, Roy casually contemplated a career as an escort. He shrugged, almost like he didn’t mind. You scowled immediately. “I hate this.”

When Jamie’s bidding war finally ended, going to Keeley for a steep fifteen thousand, Roy readied himself to go on stage. He did up the middle button of his jacket and cleared his throat, before he stood. You had the strangest urge to protest, to stand up and say that this was all fucking weird, but you kept your mouth shut.

When Jamie returned to the table, Keeley was sharp with him. The blonde sat behind you had obviously got to her, and for good reason. You didn’t know the extent of Keeley and Jamie’s relationship, but you knew them individually, and that was enough to know that Keeley definitely deserved more. You could appreciate his talent, his skill, his work ethic, but the way Jamie Tartt treated people didn’t match up.

You peered back at the older woman; she licked her lips as Roy made his way onstage. It made you feel somewhere between sick and angry. “Next up is Richmond’s Captain, number six, you all know and love him– Roy Kent!” Rupert announced, and Roy reluctantly took the stage.

“God, don’t let her bloody win,” you muttered, and Keeley let out a small laugh beside you.

“She’s always on a rampage,” she said, smiling, but you saw a glint in her eyes– she was hurt, and Jamie had done fuck all to make her feel any better.

“Shall we start the bidding off at–?”

“Five thousand pounds!” the older woman interrupted Rupert, booming her shrill voice over the room.

Onstage, Roy mouthed fucks sake. On Keeley’s other side, Jamie started laughing. You wanted to whack him because of his overly obnoxious behaviour, but instead settled on rolling your eyes. Keeley froze next to you, and you felt like something was brewing within her.

“Five thousand going once,” Rupert said. “Going twice!”

“Six thousand!” Keeley erupted suddenly, and you snapped your gaze onto her.

You weren’t naive. As Keeley and the older woman got into another bidding war, you knew exactly why she was getting involved with Roy’s auction. It was to piss off Jamie. She wanted to spite him by bidding on Roy– his obvious fucking enemy. You let out a silent groan, sending up a prayer to whoever was listening for this shit to end. It was like you’d been sat at a table for secondary school kids instead of professional athletes.

“Eight thousand!” the older woman said.

“Ten thousand pounds!” Keeley yelled louder, and that was your last straw.

Quickly, you grabbed her by her bicep. “Keeley,” you whispered harshly. “Stop it. This is childish. And this isn’t fucking fair on Roy.”

Keeley turned to you, looking thoroughly chastised. It took her a moment, but when she breathed out, you saw her true nature return. “Yeah,” she said sullenly. “You’re right.” She sighed, and put her paddle down. Sending an angry look at Jamie, she got up and left the table.

“Eleven thousand!” the older woman countered.

Rupert perked his brow. “Oh? Is that it, then? Eleven thousand going once…”

You peered over at Jamie, who didn’t look happy at all. The atmosphere on the table had dropped significantly, but you were just glad that it was almost over.

“Eleven thousand going twice!” Rupert continued, and you looked towards Roy onstage.

He caught your eye as you looked towards him, and there was something that switched within you. Almost instantly, you held the determination of your whole table– all of whom were tired of being paraded around and bought, even if it was for fucking charity. You weren’t going to let the old bat win another year in a row.

You stood up quickly, grabbing your paddle and raising it to the sky. “Twelve thousand pounds!”

Rupert’s grin was practically off the charts. “Oh, we have a new bidder! Twelve thousand for the Richmond Captain!”

“Thirteen thousand!” the oldie hit back.

“Fourteen!” You peered back at her, shooting her a death stare.

“Fifteen!”

“Sixteen!”

She stood up, her knees creaking as she did so. “Eighteen thousand!”

“Eighteen thousand for Richmond’s Captain!” Rupert exclaimed over the mic.

You hesitated just for a moment, before taking another look at Roy. He must know you didn’t actually have eighteen fucking grand to give away. He must know that you were only doing this to save him from another god awful date with that geriatric nymphomaniac.

You smacked your hand on the tabletop suddenly, scaring Jamie out of his skin. “Twenty-five thousand!” you practically screamed it, and in response garnered a huge round of applause and cheers from the other guests.

“Twenty-five going once!” Rupert said, and the oldie behind you finally started to falter. “Going twice!” he added, as tension stuck itself to every corner of the fucking room. “Gone!”

The crowds erupted even further, with a few actually coming up to shake you by the hand afterwards. Rupert’s laughter reverberated around the entire hall, and when you looked at Roy, you were happy to see relief all over his face.

Rupert whacked a hand down on Roy’s shoulder. “Well, well, well, Mr. Kent,” he began. “It seems to me that you’ve found yourself a real keeper.”

As the hall died down to a better level, Roy returned to the table. Ted and Rebecca had disappeared off somewhere, and you were biting back the adrenaline that coursed throughout your whole body. You could see now why people got hooked on gambling.

Roy sank into the seat next to yours, picked up his beer and downed the contents. When he put the empty bottle back on the table, he leaned closer to you. “I’m assuming that I’m forking up twenty-five grand, right?”

“Yep,” you said immediately. You gulped back your own beer, copying him by placing your empty bottle next to his.

“Another beer?” he asked, and you sent him a surprised look. You’d just forced him into giving up twenty-five grand, all to avoid a bad date, and he didn’t seem angry in any way.

“Why aren’t you pissed at me?” you asked.

Roy draped his arm over the back of your chair and crossed his legs comfortably. He leaned towards you, looking so relaxed now that you wouldn’t have been able to recognise the man he was on stage. “Do you want me to be pissed?”

“No,” you said, crossing your arms. “I was just wondering why not.”

“Because you just saved my fucking skin, that’s why,” Roy said.

“Yeah, and lost you twenty-five fucking grand, Roy,” you whispered harshly.

Roy scoffed. “I’m a fucking footballer.”

You shrugged. “Fair enough.” The two of you rose together, headed for the bar again, leaving Jamie and Keeley to their awkward silence.

The rest of the evening seemed to run smoothly, until the abrupt announcement that Robbie Williams was sadly not performing. You frowned from the bar, while Roy silently rejoiced by downing another beer. The atmosphere had mellowed to something you were better suited for, but that all went to shit when Jamie approached the bar. Keeley was nowhere to be found, but the immediate daggers that shot between Jamie and Roy were more than noticeable.

You tapped your nails against your beer bottle, waiting for either of them to speak first. It seemed to be a running theme, you noticed, that Jamie and Roy fucking hated one another. You could understand why– Jamie was overly arrogant, on and off the pitch. Roy had dealt with all kinds of people throughout his career, and simply didn’t have the tether to put up with them anymore.

“So,” Jamie broke the silence. “Twenty-five grand.”

Roy growled in reply. You took that as the perfect time to leave them to it. You headed to the bathroom, just from the sheer lack of where else to fucking go. You weren’t in the mood to mingle in the main hall, too afraid that Rupert would do the rounds once more. Opening the door to the bathrooms, you immediately found Rebecca and Keeley by the sinks.

“Oh!” you exclaimed. “Sorry. I was wondering where you’d both gone off to.”

Keeley turned to you first, and you instantly knew something was wrong. One glance at Rebecca confirmed the fact– something had definitely happened. “What’s wrong?” You placed a gentle hand on Keeley’s shoulder. “Jamie?” Keeley nodded sullenly. “You deserve more, Keeley. So much more.”

She smiled at you sadly, but there was a finality within her glistening eyes. She looked almost relieved, even though she hadn’t pulled the bandaid off yet. Secretly, you knew this would be a reality call for Jamie, too. Just because he was young and successful didn’t give him the right to treat others like dirt. Outside at the bar, you hoped Roy was saying the same, just not in a way that would start a fucking fight between them.

You headed to a stall, but stopped before you could shut the door. “For the record,” you said, turning back to the ladies. “Rebecca, you deserve more, too.” Rebecca’s face softened into something warm. “Even looking at Rupert made me feel like I needed to take a fucking shower.” Rebecca scoffed abruptly. She raised her martini to you, and you finally shut the stall door.

You had always been good at Irish goodbyes. It was one of your top skills, and had a close to one hundred percent success rate. At an event like this, you didn’t doubt it would also work wonders. After the bathroom, you glanced at the bar to find it empty of any footballers. That was a good enough cue to finally call it a night.

You left the venue, only to be hit by a crisp Richmond breeze. Immediately, you regretted not bringing a jacket. You knew it was a matter of time before it came to bite you in the arse, but you hadn’t been thinking before you’d jumped into Roy’s Jeep earlier. Another breeze rushed past you, making goosebumps prickle against your skin. “Fuuucking hell,” you muttered, descending the steps outside and trying to remember the way home.

You stood on the pavement, looking left and right, trying to gauge where in Richmond you actually were. Your bare arms shook as another breeze hit you, but they were relieved when something warm draped over them without warning.

Peering behind you, you caught the sight of Roy’s strong jawline. He finished draping his jacket over you, before he stuck his hands in his pockets and stood next to you.

“You just ruined it,” you let out, sighing. “I was trying to sneak out without anyone noticing.”

Roy perked his brow at you. “You fucking failed, then. And, by the looks of it, would have frozen to death on the fucking spot if it weren’t for me.”

“And I saved you from a borderline unethical date with a geriatric millionaire, who only wanted to jump your fucking bones,” you hit back with.

“Yeah, you did,” Roy acknowledged. “Thanks for that, by the way.”

You shrugged. “I figured it was better me, over her or Keeley.”

“You can fucking say that again.” Roy scuffed his feet on the pavement.

“I told her to knock it off,” you said. “It’s not fun when you get unwillingly involved in someone else’s relationship problems.”

“You sound like you’re talking from experience, there.” Roy peered down at you questioningly.

You scoffed, looking back at him playfully. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

“Oh, really? Care to tell me on the walk home?” he asked, sneaking in a quick ask about walking home together in the process.

A wall of caution sprung up within you. It dawned on you then that you’d spent the entire evening with Roy, tied at the fucking hip. He’d bought all your drinks, comforted you before arriving, driven you here, and was the very reason you’d been invited in the first place. Sure, you were a bit drunk, but not too drunk to realise that this wasn’t exactly casual.

You felt like you knew Roy well enough to know he wasn’t anything but decent, but he was also a professional footballer. His face was present in tabloids twice a week, with stories ranging from women, to messy nights out that people had somehow photographed without him knowing. There was a fine line between colleagues and friends, and an even finer line between colleagues and whoops, we just fell into bed together, didn’t we? You didn’t want to cross that line to oblivion.

That’s what you kept in mind as the two of you stumbled home. Roy’s jacket did make a world of difference, and when you slotted your arms through the sleeves they went past your fingertips. The two of you navigated Richmond neighbourhoods, commenting on the big fucking houses down Roy’s road.

“That one is far too bougie,” you said, pointing at a mansion that was entirely glass-fronted. “It’s literally a stalker's dream. From a high up window you’d be able to see every fucking thing that went on inside.”

“Sounds like you’re talking from experience about that, too,” Roy said, smiling at his own dig subtly.

“Oh, you caught me,” you said, melodramatically clutching a hand to your chest. “I’m Richmond’s biggest mansion stalker. I see a house made completely from glass and orgasm on the spot.”

Roy huffed through his nose, amused. “Who are your targets? Billionaires? Lawyers? Footballers?”

“Depends,” you said. “Is your house made completely out of glass?”

“Fuck no,” Roy said. “I do have a skylight above my bed, though.”

“Damn,” you said. “I’ll have to expand my stalking to drone footage, too.”

“Sounds like a good investment,” Roy added, before he peered down at you. You took a moment to look up at him, too, and shared a smile with one another. Inside your head, you were screaming at yourself about the wall you’d erected earlier.

Roy stopped walking suddenly, and you let out a small squeak as you tried to stop at the same time as him. It was clear you’d both drunk a lot, but it was all in good fun. “This is me,” Roy said then, pointing to the house before you.

Your eyes widened immediately. Before you stood a huge house, decorated with bushes and a large blossom tree out front. You felt the absence of his Jeep in the driveway, but it allowed for you to see the massive front door– made from solid oak, with a shining knocker right in the centre. It was easily three storeys high, and through one of the large windows, you caught a glimpse of a framed football shirt. This was definitely Roy Kent’s house.

“Fuck me,” you said involuntarily. Roy actually scoffed, which was a different kind of shock entirely. “You weren’t kidding about it being one of the big, fuck off houses, then.”

“Why would I lie about having a great fucking house?”

“No, no. I’m not judging here,” you said, keeping your gaze on the building before you. “You’re right. That’s a great fucking house.”

There was a moment of silence that settled over the two of you, only made more intense by the light of the moon, and the utter lack of stars that graced the sky in London. You sucked in a deep breath as you looked back at Roy, only to find his gaze on you already. You smiled, he smiled back subtly, and your gut lurched within you.

Roy shuffled on his spot, before clearing his throat. “Wanna come in for a drink?”

There was a feeling that descended upon you, one that was not at all mature and one hundred percent giddy. You’d been in this position multiple times, but with Roy it felt different. He was your work colleague, for starters, and that wall that you’d forced yourself to build was still erected, as much as a part of you was trying to knock it down with a fucking sledgehammer.

You sucked in a sharp breath. “It’s waaay past ten-thirty,” you let out.

“Ah,” Roy said, catching on immediately. “I forgot you were a boring uni student.”

“Boring masters student. But, yes.” You took a small step back, fully cementing that you wouldn’t be joining him for another drink this evening. “Another time,” you added, simply because you wanted to grab a drink with Roy in future. You didn’t want to ward him off, or make him feel like you were rejecting him, as much as that would be okay, too.

Roy shot you an expression he’d never shown you before. It wasn’t blunt, so to say, but it wasn’t sweet, either. It was some form of middle ground. It told you that he understood, but also reassured you that this wasn’t a big deal. It was crazy how much of an expression interpreter you became when you weren’t bloody sober.

“Another time,” Roy repeated after a moment. Gently, you started taking off his jacket, but he waved at you in dismissal. “Keep it for the walk home,” he said.

You huffed at him, but did as you were told. “Thank you,” you let out.

Roy nodded, as you took another step back. “See you on Monday?” you asked rhetorically.

“See you on Monday,” he confirmed.

You took another step back, almost stumbling into the road. Roy lurched forward quickly, just in case he needed to grab you and stop you from falling flat on your face, but you stabilised yourself. Flustered, you let out a breathy chuckle. Laughter echoed down his fancy as fuck road, before disappearing into the crisp night.

You sent one final smile Roy’s way, before you finally swivelled on your heels, headed for your road a bit further down. Roy slowly stepped towards his front door, keeping a watchful eye on you as you tread further down the road.

“Goodnight,” he let out, raising his voice a bit to reach you down the street.

You turned back to him, walking backwards for a few paces. “Goodnight!” you replied, waving your arm wildly in the air at him.

When you faced forward again, you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling. Nothing would come from this, you told yourself, but it didn’t stop it from feeling nice. Having a genuinely pleasant night with someone that you’d never– in a million fucking years– thought you’d gel with, was oddly fulfilling. When you thought back to the month before, it made you want to cackle maniacally to yourself. It was funny, wasn’t it? How things could change so fast, how they could evolve into you having a really great fucking evening with someone you previously couldn’t stand to be around, let alone talk to.

You pulled off your shoes when you arrived home, ready to utterly collapse into bed. Your phone dinged in your clutch before you could. You picked it up, utterly surprised to see a text from Roy waiting for you.

Get home safe.

You replied simply.

I did.

Roy replied instantly.

Good.

You thought that would be it, dropping your phone onto your bed as you went to strip off your clothes. Heading to the bathroom to get ready for bed, you shut the door behind you. Roy texted you again, one that you wouldn’t see until you woke up in the morning.

Sleep well.

A week later, as you sat in the owners box next to Keeley and Rebecca, your heart was in your throat. As Ted bombarded down the steps back to the field, you were in the same boat as everyone in wondering why– Ted had decided to bench Jamie Tartt for the rest of the game, despite him scoring a goal for Richmond not two minutes before.

Rebecca looked slightly shaken, but there was also an underlying happiness to her mood. You noticed that she acted odd, sometimes. Such as when Richmond were doing well, she would join in with fake enthusiasm. When they were doing terribly, it was customary to find her with a smile stamped all over her face. It was the same one she showed now, as Ted made a show of benching Jamie, and the home crowd at the Dogtrack exploded.

Jamie Tartt was pissed off. He was seething as he went to sit down, and went as far as kicking one of the chairs for the rest of the team reserves. You winced when you saw it, alongside hundreds of other fans, but that’s when you chose to look over to Roy.

He was on the pitch with his hands on his hips, and an oddly calm expression stamped on his face. Within you, you silently relaxed. You knew that if Roy wasn’t freaking out, then he understood Lasso’s reasons for what he’d done. You leaned back in your seat casually, causing a flustered Keeley to peer at you.

“What are you so bloody relaxed for? Jamie’s going to burn this place to the fucking ground.” She turned back to the pitch, watching the remaining two minutes of extra time before half time. Despite breaking up with the ace at the charity ball, Keeley still knew Jamie through and through.

You leaned forward and pointed to the pitch. “There,” you said, and Keeley followed your finger. “Look at Roy. He’s the calmest I’ve ever seen him on the pitch.”

“Yeah, because his arch nemesis has just been benched,” Keeley said.

“No, no. As much as Roy hates him, I know he’d be equally as fucked off and confused if Lasso had pulled Jamie for no reason. But, look, he’s absolutely fine.”

Keeley turned to you. “So, you think it was the right decision?”

You shrugged. “I don’t fucking know. All that I know is that, when I’m confused, I look at Roy’s reaction. I go with whatever emotion he’s sending into the void, and somehow it all just works out fine.”

Keeley leaned back slightly, looking at you in confusion. “It’s like you guys are telepathic, or something.” She snapped her head towards Roy again. “That’s fucking amazing.”

Over the next few weeks, things start feeling like home to you. Two months down the line and it was as if you’d known the guys for years. It was normal for you to join them for team nights out, and normal for them to poke their heads around your office door from time to time. Every time you passed the gym, or the locker room, or the pitch, there would always be at least one lad who spotted you. He’d wave, and that would alert everyone else to your presence, until all of them had waved at you in greeting.

Roy was the same, but in his own way. Since the charity ball, it was clear that there was something there, no matter how small. There was a shared understanding between the two of you that was larger than what you had with the rest of the team. You couldn’t explain it, not even when you dedicated time to try and work out what it was.

You still had his jacket at home, up on the peg by your door, just waiting to be returned. There was something that halted you from dropping it around to him, however, and Roy hadn’t brought it up since the month before, either. There was some unspoken thing about it, you felt, that travelled back to when you’d both said another time.

Maybe that was it, hm? When that inevitable another time happened, you’d return the jacket then. But for now, it offered you a gentle reminder of Roy fucking Kent everytime you entered or left your flat. It was odd to think about it, but you saw everyone at Richmond most days of the week. Weekends were reserved for friends and family, naturally, but on a dull Saturday night you often found yourself with the urge to call one of the guys and see what they were up to.

Was this what having attachment issues felt like? You fucking hoped not.

Jamie had been off with everyone since Ted benched him. He was ruder, and more disrespectful, often showing up late for practice or leaving early without warning. To the team, he was still arrogant and self-serving; even more so towards Roy. Ted’s attempts at laying a stable groundwork with Tartt hadn’t seemed to stick, and everyone had been feeling it.

That was made worse by the arrival of a new striker by the name of Dani Rojas. Jamie had already been pushed into the proverbial corner, and when Dani showed off his moves on the pitch for the first time, it was clear that they were on par with each other. You spent those first few days confined to your office, trying to avoid the lot of them and miss being within firing range of Tartt’s next tantrum.

Later on, after Jamie ditched another practice session, you checked your inbox to find an intriguing email. It was forwarded from the university, but originally from the Independent. You read it silently, and after you were done, you immediately went to find Keeley. Rebecca had recently set her up with a job doing PR for the club, which made your life exponentially easier. She was better at social media, at getting brand deals and the like. You were a writer, not a publicist. You entered the press room and found her sitting at her temporary desk.

She turned to you and smiled. “Hey, babe,” she said sweetly. “You okay?”

You sighed, taking a seat opposite her, on the front row. “The Independent is running a competition for all MA students in London. Writers, journalists, sports students, all of that,” you explained. “If we write an article about a sportsman or woman, it could get published in the paper, on the front page of the sports section.” You dragged your hands down your face when you’d finished, and Keeley let out a huff at her desk.

“Babes, that’s an amazing opportunity!” she exclaimed.

“I know,” you whined, and dropped your hands into your lap.

Keeley straightened in her chair, looking at you softly. “Is there any reason why you don’t seem particularly excited about it?”

You peered at her, and it clicked instantly. She returned your stare with a knowing look, one that was warm and gentle, one that understood. After that, she furrowed her brows and sent you a soft smile. It wasn’t often that people could read you so easily, and when Keeley did it, it only made you feel more connected to her.

She let out a sigh. “There’s no harm in asking him.” Roy. She meant Roy.

“No,” you said immediately. “I said I wouldn’t ask him about any of this shit anymore, even if it is a great opportunity for me. You know how much he hates it,” you said. “I suppose I could do it about Ted, but Trent Crimm wrote a great article for him last month. And the boys, I mean– Richmond are always in the paper and the tabloids. I feel like I wouldn’t be adding to their stories.”

“That’s why you want to write about Roy,” Keeley stated.

You leant forward, finally bursting. “Yes! I do! Roy’s career has been explosive and intriguing and heart-warming. His Chelsea days were legendary, and the way he’s captained Richmond has been second to none. Why would anyone not want to write about him?”

Keeley stood up slowly, rounding her desk to sit in the chair next to you. Gently, she placed her hands over your knuckles. “Just ask him.”

“I don’t know how to,” you let out.

“Tell him the truth,” she said. “Say this is a great opportunity for you, and you can make it as painless as humanly possible for him.”

“I mean, I wasn’t going to shadow him, or anything. I thought we’d go to the pub and talk for a few hours, really. It wasn’t going to be a proper interview.”

“That’s good,” Keeley said, squeezing your hands in approval. “Tell him that, too.”

“And if it all goes tits up?” you asked.

Keeley shrugged her shoulders, and let out a small laugh. “No one can know which way it’ll go with Roy. I’m sure it won’t be as bad as you’re thinking right now, though.”

It was then that the anxious pit in your stomach started to clear. You looked at Keeley with your eyes large and glassy. You wondered if she knew all the thoughts that were rushing through your brain about you and Roy– how the main reason for not wanting to ask him was about not wanting to fuck up the friendship you’d both stumbled into. Especially after how things had started, you didn’t want it all to revert to that hostile environment.

“Babes,” Keeley whispered, leaning closer to you. “I don’t think you realise how likeable you are. The guys love you, and the coaches. Roy fits into that box, too.” Her reassuring words sunk into your skin, until you finally felt at ease. “And me, obviously,” she added quickly.

You huffed. “Thanks, Keeley,” you whispered. She draped her arms around you then, and you rested your head on her shoulder. Sometimes, a hug was all you needed to feel grounded.

You went back to your office to find another book from Sam, on your desk. He wrote small post-its for you and stuck them on the covers of each one he gave, and you secretly kept them all in the bottom drawer of your desk. You sat down and huffed to yourself, picking up his newest pick. The post-it read– Truthfully, this one did make me cry. Tell me if you do, too.

You stuck the post-it onto the pile of others in your bottom drawer, before you placed the book on a small shelf to your right. Shuffling in your bag, you found your next book for him. It was like clockwork, and you loved that this was something you’d started up with him. You left your office and headed for the gym, knowing it was time for the guys to do their second work-out of the day.

When you arrived, you sent a quick wave to all the guys, before seeking out Sam. He was on the bike, pumping his legs hard as he kept up his heart rate. You approached him, and draped your arms over the top of the stationary handle-bars. He smiled at you hugely, and you hovered the book out before him. “Fantastic,” he said softly, taking it from your grasp. “I was waiting for the day you would share your favourite classics with me.” It was a copy of The Great Gatsby.

“Am I that predictable?” you asked.

“Very,” Sam let out.

You huffed, amused. “Well, enjoy it. I look forward to reading yours, too.”

Sam clutched the book to his heart in thanks, before you swivelled on your heels and headed back towards the door. On the way, you noticed Roy on the treadmill, doing his normal incline walk. Keeley’s words surged within you, and you told yourself not to chicken out. Now was as good a time as any to ask. It would save you the time it took to worry beforehand.

You let out a deep breath, before walking towards him. He peered down at you, as you turned yourself round to face him, and leaned against the windowsill before him. He perked one of his black, bushy brows at you. “Can I help you?” he asked. There was a running theme between you. Most of your conversations started with that same question.

“The Independent is running a competition for MA students in London. It’ll result in one of us having an article published, and run on the first page of the sports section.” You laid it all out for him, expecting him to shut you down immediately, but he stayed silent. “I know how you feel about this sort of thing, which is why I’d never force you into doing this for me, again. But…” You looked up at him strongly, almost pleadingly. “This is a great opportunity for me, Roy. I can’t just write about anyone, either.”

“Why not?” he asked. His voice croaked, like he was struggling to get them out.

“Because.” You shuffled on your spot, something that you did when you knew you were being openly vulnerable. “I want to write about you.”

Roy looked to his feet, rhythmically stomping upon the treadmill beneath him. You could hear the cogs in his brain turning and whining, and you instantly felt guilty. You didn’t want to put him on the spot, and you’d seen what he could be like when he was. You half expected him to tell you to fuck off, but he didn’t. He just kept looking at his feet, walking to nowhere.

You inhaled deeply, taking matters into your own hands. “Don’t worry about it,” you said, and Roy looked at you once more. “I just thought I’d ask. This isn’t compulsory, so don’t worry.” You smiled at him, but he didn’t smile back. Instead, his mouth dropped open like he wanted to say something, but simply couldn’t get the words out. “See you around, Roy.”

You made to leave quickly, not wanting to stick around. Innately, you cursed at yourself for even asking in the first place. Keeley was right about it not doing any harm, but all it had done was make you feel bad.

“Hold it!” Roy boomed suddenly, and you turned back to him abruptly. The guys in the gym stopped working out, and you felt your stomach drop once more. Roy switched off the treadmill and jumped to the floor. “Just the one article?” he asked.

You nodded, gaining back some of your composure. “Only one.”

“How many people compete in this thing?” he asked.

“Um.” You wracked your brain, trying to figure out the average. “A few hundred, at least.”

“So, there’s a high probability that you won’t win,” Roy said, and you widened your eyes. He didn’t mean it offensively, but it still stung a bit.

“Yes. Very high probability, actually,” you said smally, feeling a tad embarrassed now that he’d explained it that way.

Roy looked at the ground, before he caught your eye strongly. “Okay. I’ll do it.” You sucked in a sharp breath.

“Really?” you asked, taking a few steps towards him.

He nodded, letting out a small growl. You let out an excited squeal, before you rushed at him. You wrapped your arms around his neck in an impromptu hug, muttering thank you over and over again. To the rest of the guys, all they saw was the shocked expression on Roy’s face, and the way his arms were tense at his sides from surprise. He didn’t know what to do with himself, didn’t know whether to wrap his arms around you in response. You pulled away too fast for him to come to a conclusion, and he peered down at you as you started towards the door again.

In the door frame, you turned back to him one last time. “Seriously, Roy,” you let out. “Thank you.” You tried to fit as much genuine feeling within your words as you possibly could.

Roy’s face softened subtly. You sent a final smile at him, before you left and headed back to your office. The gym stayed awkwardly silent as the guys laid their eyes over a statuesque Roy. He balled his fists when it all got to be too much, and let out a guff “Fucking get back to work!” to break open the tension.

The lads restarted their work-outs immediately, acting as if nothing had happened whatsoever. Roy jumped back onto the treadmill and started his walk once more. Through the window in front of him, he saw the open door to your office. If he moved slightly to the left, he could catch a glimpse of you, sitting at your desk, writing frantically on your laptop– utterly beaming.  

CHAPTER FOUR

Tag list: @atjamesbbarnes​ @20th-centu-fairy-girl​ @royalestrellas​ @weakmoony-stuff​ @ironmanmagnetfridge​ @lemonpiegurll​ @hellomagicalsouls​ @her-fandom-sanctum @gothicwidowsworld​ @old-enough-to-know-better73​ @djarindroid​ @afraidofshrimp​ @respondingtoshowerthoughts-blog @queen-of-dumbasses​ @sogoodtoheritsvicious​ @lznnph1l @crav1ngc4ke​ @onceuponaoneshot​ @jamieolivia27​

[heich0e]

When Umemiya and Mom get married, do they give Kosuke a little brother or little sister?

i think ume and reader are happy with their family as it is, and feel content not to have any more kids together. kosuke is every bit a son to hajime. he loves him unconditionally, with his entire heart. you have the conversation of course, but both of you are in agreement. you're more than satisfied with what you have. exceedingly grateful for it. you can't imagine anything more.

hajime graduates with his degree and qualifications as a child psychologist, and he starts his career soon after. most of his work is clinical, but outside his normal clinical role he volunteers with the alternative care sector: helping out whenever he can in group homes and family homes—just like, and including, the one he was raised in.

he comes home late one day, almost a decade into your relationship, dishevelled and clearly exhausted. kosuke (13 now, getting taller each day, and going through the phase where he only wants to hide in his room and play video games) has already gone to bed for the night, and you're left curled up on the couch waiting up for your husband's return. when he walks through the door he comes right to you, falling to his knees before you on the living room floor and burying his face against your tummy as he wraps his arms around you and holds tight.

it takes him a moment, pressed up against you with his grip still firm, but he tells you about the two little girls he met through the child guidance centre that afternoon: 4 years old and the other not yet 1, biological sisters, orphaned and facing separation since the youngest requires an infant care facility that isn't able to accept older children. hajime tells you with a strain in his voice how even when the baby gets old enough to transition to a family home, there's no guarantee the two will ever be reunited.

hajime's job is hard—he's seen countless heart-wrenching cases like this over the years, but he always endeavours through it because he knows that's what he has to do to help. you've seen him be others' strength so many times, seen him bear that weight without complaint or waver, but you can see how this time it's eating away at him.

it doesn't happen overnight. there are long, difficult conversations that have to happen: some just between yourself and your husband, and some with your son. there are meetings held in strangely lifeless playrooms in transitional facilities, where you get to know the two girls. meetings where you come to understand why hajime was so wholly taken by them, and come to care for them in just the same way.

and then, however unexpectedly, your family—the one you thought was perfect just the way it was—grows; two little sprouts appearing overnight after a rainstorm, who get to blossom under your care.

you never expected to have another child, let alone two of them, and certainly never expected to be raising another baby—especially not at your age.

you never thought you'd get to see hajime up doing midnight feeds, or diaper changes, or wake up to him dozing beside you in your bed with a teething baby on his bare chest because it was the only way he could get her to sleep. never thought you'd see your husband learn how to braid hair, or play dolls, or paint tiny little toenails.

you never pictured kosuke as a big brother, or anticipated how naturally he would take to it; reading bedtime stories, wiping away tears, and putting pink plasters on scraped knees he then kisses better.

but hikari and himari came home, changed everything, and from that moment on you couldn't imagine your life without them.

[bird-inacage]

Love Sea Episode 4: Where Things Have Gone Astray

It pains me to say it, but I found Episode 4 sloppy in it's execution, direction and writing overall. (I'd like to preface that regardless of how much I like fortpeat, or have enjoyed the series for the most part, I personally think it's important to be able to critique a show when it's flaws present themselves, and not to blindly excuse those issues because we want so badly to like it).

The transition from island to Bangkok was a huge turning point in the story, and I'm disappointed to say it wasn't handled well. The episode felt very off-beat and clunky compared to the lovely moments we got last week. Most of the issues centre on inconsistencies in character trajectory that were set up by the end of Episode 3. So let's unpack what went wrong here.

Mut is brusquely given the cold shoulder

My biggest gripe is the treatment of Mut this episode and without good reason. Let's start by recognising that Mut has potentially left his entire way of life behind: his friends, his community, his livelihood - all on the possibility that Rak may come to love him. I don't think Mut's naively banking on this being forever, but the emphasis here is he's willing to give it all up. The lack of acknowledgement to this gesture was glaring. The boy is only 20 years old, may I stress. Rak knows the hardships that Mut has faced, which should make this sacrifice even more significant in my opinion. What little Mut has built from scratch, he's willing to leave behind. All for Rak.

Other than a few brief moments of Rak looking sheepish/guilty, he's very passive throughout. I was really hoping he'd display more initiative and maturity here as the older party (like he did at the end of Episode 3). Even more disappointingly, once they land in Bangkok, Rak has Mut trailing behind him and largely leaves him to his own devices. At points, Rak's attitude towards Mut feels borderline exploitative. Rak is the one who begged Mut to come with him, and now that he's there, he seems to be putting Mut on trial.

Mut's hospitality on the island was due to Rak being an outsider who was completely out of his comfort zone. Now they've essentially reversed the situation but somehow the default is still Mut making all the effort (and yes, I know he's getting paid, but the last 3 episodes have just attempted to establish that their relationship is beyond just monetary). We need to see some more active reciprocation from Rak that supports why he was so driven for Mut to stay with him.

We've also been shown that though Mut is incredibly patient, he's not a doormat. When Rak crosses a line, he does get angry. Mut ran away when his father offended his core values, so we know he's capable of putting his foot down. But Rak's treatment of him here roused no protest or questioning when it would be fully warranted. By the time they discuss the contract, it's a null confrontation as Mut has already conceded to Rak's demands by signing. I wish he stood up for himself more here.

Tongrak's change in demeanour

The Rak we see in Bangkok is how I would imagine his character to be at the beginning of the series. Slightly haughty and dismissive. But because our impression of Rak was intentionally reversed so early on - where we were shown his sensitivity and softness - to have him slip back into a standoffish persona gave me whiplash. Has Rak regressed to who he was prior to the island? Has his time with Mut not changed anything? We know it has, which is why this front feels performative. Why would Rak feel the need to play into this character when Mut's already seen who he is underneath? And what has triggered him to do so? His family haven't come into the picture yet. I don't think Rak really cares about Mook's judgement. So why?

I think it's a huge disservice to shrug this off with: 'oh it's because Rak has trauma', and that's why he's running hot and cold. Doing so only trivialises the magnitude of trauma as a 'convenient' excuse when the writing doesn't support itself well enough for a character's actions to feel convincingly well founded.

When I started Episode 4, I thought we'd missed a scene or were due a flashback that would signpost why Rak changed his mind. We're told it's because of his PA, but that doesn't hold up well because surely Rak would have factored that into the equation. There are plenty of ways they could have remedied this. They could have shown us that Rak was genuine in agreeing, but spirals over the enormity of such a decision afterwards, which leads him to back out. Or Rak agreed despite knowing full well he couldn't meet his promise, and only lied because he didn't want to hurt Mut's feelings. Or they could have included the phone call from his sister in this episode, which would indicate that Rak has bigger responsibilities outside of himself, which caused his decision to sway. But we didn't get anything to ground us to Rak's mindset this episode, so his mentality feels like a 180. It also makes his agreement to Mut feel flippant if all it took was for Mook to whine to change his mind.

I can accept Rak retreating emotionally out of pressure or worry, but it doesn't read that way. Instead, his actions and body language feel abruptly indifferent, oddly detached and cold. The contract just epitomises a clinical level of emotional distancing. Even when Mook voices her concerns, Rak looks exasperated. So this isn't presented to us as a reaction borne out of vulnerability. And because we don't see Rak mulling over any doubts about Mut or otherwise, his behaviour feels all the more sudden and incongruous.

Ultimately, Rak was the one who let Mut down. If Rak agreed to stay on the island because he truly cared about Mut, wouldn't he be feeling doubly guilty at present? Not only has he broken a promise, but Mut is making a huge compromise to pursue Rak. Yet, Rak's attitude seems to be: 'these are my terms, do you have a problem with that?' This challenging air feels out of place and counterintuitive to what they've set up so far. What has Mut done to deserve this? Why is Mut still the one accommodating and initiating, with seemingly no return?

When comedy is not your strong suit, do not lean into it

I have a real bone to pick with the 'humour' attempted in this episode. I know comedy is subjective, but these scenes are arguably the shows weakest moments. People underestimate just how hard it is to pull off comedy and to do it well. And the brand of humour they're going for comes across quite juvenile, slapstick or theatrical. Sadly it only magnifies Aya's acting as egregiously bad in this episode because Mook is leant on so heavily as comic relief.

Mook and Vi's presence as individuals and as a couple has also been very one-dimensional so far which doesn't help things. It's getting increasingly taxing to sit through their scenes when there's so little substance and depth there to root for. Trust me, I am trying to like them, but they're not making it easy.

At it's worst, filler offers us no further insight or advancement in either character or plot. Which inevitably makes you question why the run time is being wasted on excessively inconsequential material. That crime was being committed multiple times this episode.

This is not me writing off the series by any means. As I say in my introduction, I think it's extremely important as a viewer to retain the objectivity to recognise when there are speed bumps, dodgy choices or noticeable areas for improvement.

As I was writing this, I found myself going: 'I think I see what they were trying to go for here' and applying additional guess-work to fill in the gaps. But that's the issue. If the writing requires your viewer to do mental gymnastics to make it make sense, you've dropped the ball. I would heartily advocate for 'show, don't just tell'. But in this episode we neither get shown or told why our characters are acting like this, especially when it seems to contradict how we got here.

Let's hope next episode is only onwards and upwards.

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Max Kozlov at Nature:

As the US National Institutes of Health (NIH) continues to defund nearly every research project on transgender health, the White House has directed the agency to focus on studying “regret” after a person transitions to align their body with their gender identity. Several NIH employees, who were granted anonymity because they are not authorized to speak to the press, confirmed the directive to Nature. Two weeks ago, Matthew Memoli, who was acting NIH director at the time, sent an e-mail to the directors of several NIH institutes. It said that the Department of Health and Human Services (HHS), which is the NIH’s parent agency, “has been directed to fund research on a few specific areas” related to what it calls “chemical and surgical mutilation” of children and adults — a reference to gender-affirming care and surgery. “This is very important to the President and the Secretary” of the HHS, Robert F. Kennedy Jr, the e-mail added. Based on its priorities, the White House sometimes directs the NIH — the world’s largest public funder of biomedical science — to study certain broad topics, such as cancer or women’s health, but the latest directive’s specificity, inflammatory language and focus on a hyper-polarizing topic are unprecedented, the NIH employees say. Although the White House can sometimes “push us on various different things, we normally get to chart out the approach”, a staff member says. Many scientists, reeling from the abrupt cancellation of more than US$180 million in NIH funding for research on transgender health, slammed the proposed studies as ideologically driven. [...]

Shifting focus

Estimates suggest that 1.6 million people in the United States identify as transgender, and about one-quarter of them obtain gender-affirming surgeries. Research suggests1 that access to these procedures can reduce anxiety, depression and suicidal ideation in transgender people. US President Donald Trump signed an executive order on his first day in office on 20 January that directed the US government to stop acknowledging that gender can differ from sex at birth. The cancellation of many trans-health research grants quickly followed, and now the agency seems to be shifting the type of research it funds. The e-mail from Memoli, obtained by Nature, specifies two areas of research that the Trump administration wishes to fund about “social transition”, which is when a person changes how they express their gender to others — for example, by changing their name or appearance. These include “regret and detransition following social transition as well as chemical and surgical mutilation of children and adults” and “outcomes from children who have undergone social transition and/or chemical and surgical mutilation”, the e-mail says. [...]

Inflammatory language

The e-mail requesting the new research focus mirrors language in another of Trump’s executive orders about “protecting children from chemical and surgical mutilation”, signed on 28 January. The order alleges that “medical professionals are maiming and sterilizing a growing number of impressionable children under the radical and false claim that adults can change a child’s sex through a series of irreversible medical interventions”. The phrase ‘chemical and surgical mutilation’ is “scientifically unsound” and will “provoke fear and stigma” among the trans community, Barbee says. If this language is used in such a solicitation, the NIH will probably struggle to find knowledgeable specialists to respond, Charlton says. (Charlton, who has had five grants that make up 95% of her centre’s funding cancelled, sued the NIH and the HHS yesterday. The lawsuit alleges that the agencies have engaged in a “reckless and illegal purge to stamp out NIH-funded research that addresses topics and populations that they disfavor”.)

The Trump Regime directs the NIH to study trans “regret” in a bid to show proof that there is a major wave of detransitioners that they would create out of thin air. In reality, the rate of trans regret is very low.

See Also:

LGBTQ Nation: Trump admin orders scientists to research transition “regret”: It’s “America’s Cass Review”

[imnayeonjaem]

ateez as oddly specific times of the day.

minors dni. ageless blogs dni. blank blogs dni. you'll be blocked.

a/n: this is just a random idea that suddenly popped into my head. i like abstract concepts lmao lmk what you think! all times in 24hr clock, not season specific, just vibes.

kim hongjoong - 00:00

the transition from one day to the next. the night owl urge to stay awake with the early bird desire to wake up at 6am. where everything feels its most still, its most silent. the liminal space between night and morning.

park seonghwa - 09:32

just in time to grab your coffee. boarding the train at the last second. feeling a productive day ahead. the unsung bliss of rush hour, caught in the midst of the morning buzz. the gentle breeze and the sun peeking through the windows.

jeong yunho - 15:26

the last hurrah of lunch break. eating outside at the local bistro. people watching and making small talk. laughing over smoothies and taking in the sights of everyday life. petting the dog that passes by. smiling to the owner who smiles back.

kang yeosang - 02:56

whispered words into the open space. cups of tea and a heart to heart. reminiscing about the past. not caring to look at the time. quiet laughter and warm smiles. the first yawn, a sign it's now time for you to go to bed. feelings of closure. everything is okay.

choi san - 22:34

bright lights and night life. music pulsing through the walls of every club. restaurants packed with people. traffic on the highway. singing loudly without a care in the world. beating hearts, lots of energy. never slowing down, never getting tired.

song mingi - 11:11

a moment for yourself. a chance to reflect. headphones on, hands in pockets, walking down the street with your favourite playlist on. everyone's a blur, and you're at the centre. deep breaths, no destination, no worries.

jung wooyoung - 20:45

the last bus home. rain hitting the window. sitting at the back, earbuds in, soothing music to calm your stresses. tired from the day, knowing tomorrow is a new one. leaving the bus and heading home. changing into your pjs. watching a movie.

choi jongho - 08:00

an early start. strict routine. breakfast, skincare, coffee. reading and replying to emails. thriving in the mundane. taking care of yourself. cleaning the house and reorganising your things. wearing your favourite shirt. talking to your friends.

× silverdune (ave). do not repost. ×

[npookie0]

ronin x reader who’s also transmasc but not as far along in their transition as ronin is. This is mostly because they are too scared to make big changes because they are afraid of not ending up as a “pretty boy”. They aren’t so afraid of the grotesque healing process and such, more so the uncertainty of results. So he would be pre-everything. I guess kinda just how ronin supports him through that (and is probably a bad influence lmao/lh)

Teehee

Afraid of the Dream.

You are standing in the centre of your bedroom, mess everywhere from clothes on the floor, an undone bed and a broken mirror.

Right, a broken mirror.

You had a very bad dysphoria day, every part of your body screamed woman, from your hair, to your chest, hands, hips, everything. In an outburst you pushed your mirror to the floor, it broke, glass shards scattered everywhere, you might stepped in one but you didn't care.

Your mind was elsewhere. You were thinking about your boyfriend, Ronin.

A man who was just like you, full of grotesque. But unlike you, he followed his dream. He took testosterone, went under gender affirming surgeries, made himself the man he was. But you? You were terrified, not of the pain. No. The pain, healing proces and everything that would follow it, you were fine with these. You would even enjoy seeing the aftermaths of your work to achieve your dream.

The fear was focused on not passing as a man, you were scared that you would never pass as one, that people would see you as a woman, that you will be stuck in this cage until you choke in it.

The fear was running through your veins, eating every ounce of confident in your ability to look just the way you so desperately desire to.

Every time you tried to cut your hair, bind, talk in a lower voice, your mind just screamed at you to stop. Taking hormones or going through surgeries wasn't even an option, the anxiety was too strong.

Now you could only look yourself in the broken mirror pieces, seeing the person who didn't feel nor look like you, a stranger of sorts. It made you want to shout and cry. Shout at the world for making you like this, for giving you this body you absolutely hate yet can't bring yourself to change. Cry because of the fear mixed with dysphoria, the two emotions that will never leave your side.

You just wished, hoped, begged the gods above that they would just let you be yourself in peace. Why was it so hard for you? Ronin made it look so easy to achieve this happiness, this freedom. Why must you be the person who can't change?

You didn't even know when you sat on the floor, knees pressed against your chest, head in your hands as you cried your pain out. The pain from your dysphoria, from all the times you stopped yourself from looking like you desired to.

Suddenly a hand squeezed your shoulder, you looked up and noticed Ronin sitting right next to you. You wiped the tears into your sleeve and sniffed.

"Ro? What are you doing here?"

You asked, hating the way your voice sounds. You would much rather be mute than hear this woman every time you speak.

"We were supposed to meet up, remember?"

He replied, wiping a new tear that run down your cheek with his thumb.

"O-oh, yeah."

Now you remembered. You and Ronin planned to hangout around the town, go for a walk or some other couple activity thing. It completely escaped your mind when you started to hate how round your chest is under your baggy sweater this morning.

"Guess we're stayin' indoors."

His words surprised you. Why did he want to change your plans? Maybe he hates the way you look too, or he's ashamed of showing himself with something like you.

"Hey, silence the thoughts. I can hear them from here."

Ronin said, cupping your face in his hands. His expression was much softer than the one he shows to people. There was this understanding and worry in his eyes, he knew how you feel. He wanted to be there for you.

"Ro... What if I won't look like a man even after I will try to change myself? What if they will still see a woman when they look at me?"

You finally spoke your mind out loud. Yeah, Ronin knows about you being as grotesque as him, but he never heard about your issue.

"Darlin', it's not people deciding who you are. It's only you who can decide these things. If you feel as and say that you're a man, then you're the mot fucking handsome man I have seen."

He paused to place a soft kiss to your forehead.

"You will never be happy with yourself if the thoughts will win with you. Fuck people, fuck the society. Be yourself, be the devil they fear if you must. Just don't let those assholes get into your head."

You could tell that Ronin was talking about his past self too, after all the whole town made him the devil and that's where this whole devil-may-care act came from.

"I... I'm scared Ronin. I want to cut my hair, I want to bind, but I'm so scared of the outcome."

Your voice was weak, more like a pained whisper. You were just so afraid, so terrified of this change.

"What if I cut your hair?"

"What?"

Ronin's question threw you off, what did it have to do with anything?

"I cut my own hair, and I don't look like a lady, now do i?"

You understood now. If someone like Ronin who cuts his own hair since forever will do your hair, you will be sure that he won't make it look too feminine.

"Okay."

You nodded your head slowly. Still uncertain, but you need to take that step, you need to be brave. For your desire, for your happiness.

"See? You're surrendering to the devil."

He kissed you, gentle and affectionate. That kiss was supposed to help you soothe your nerves before the big event, and it somehow did.

Now, the Devil will help you shape yourself, who else to trust with it than the man who shaped himself?