#a doctor's hand

[neon-lights-stardust-nights]

Bruh I need to find someone I can force to write this, or make my brain cooperate long enough to write it.

I nearly stopped typing, because this summarizes so many fics in my head.

Specifically, the above is about affectionate dissection. Technically the Faust fic of my dreams KIND OF EXISTS. They don't go all the way though! It stops in the middle of the fun!

A loving dissection. Being shown each organ and how they work. Learning a lot between the proclamations of adoration. Learning about anatomy, about the body, how it all works.

Maybe it goes places it really ought not to, but Faust is a doctor! It's all fine. If he rearranged faers guts to do it, he can put them all back in working order again. There's no need to fear...

And I wanna read that so baaaad WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

[professor-pants]

Genre of character: submissive like a guard dog is submissive

[plaguedoctormemes]

as a man on HRT thats approaching his thirties im on my knees begging you other trans and queer folk to stop treating hair thinning and baldness like its some sort of final nail in the coffin on someone’s youth and scale of attractiveness and to stop insisting people see their doctor if someone starts experiencing hair loss and they didnt ask for help!

[itsclydebitches]

Love it when the kinda half-formed observations you make about an episode finally come to the forefront.

Watching the start of "Dot and Bubble": Hmm, everyone in this episode is very... white.

Halfway through: The Doctor certainly continues to stand out, especially in that bright red sweater amongst all the pastels

Lindy freaking out about the Doctor and Ruby being in the same room together: I suppose that could be due to some cultural taboo about interacting in-person when everyone is supposed to communicate via bubble, but that doesn't track with what we've seen of her work day...

The "twist" that the chronically online, all white, super rich, entitled to the point of satire, willing to sacrifice others without hesitation, oh so eager to colonize people living in a literal bubble (TWO bubbles) are *gasp!* actually, devastatingly racist...

Yeah, that's not a twist. That's all deliberately interconnected. The episode didn't suddenly move from an argument about social media use to an argument about racism; the two historically go hand-in-hand.

[briefkittenearthquake]

I like my men smart

[guardianspirits13]

Anyways. I'm glad we've moved past the "heavy handed allegory for racism between two different sentient species where they are all best friends in the end" episodes and into the "racism is so deeply engrained into society that in the absence of active anti-racist deconstruction people would go to any length to avoid confronting their biases and changing their worldview"

[flynnandsteel]

I have not been the same since Zheng Yi Sao became a character in our flag means death. It means so much to me that pirate-related media is representing her more because I never would have known about her and she is too cool to be forgotten.

For years pop culture either portrayed her as the racist "submissive asian woman" stereotype or ignored her completely. It's infuriating. Now though we have a strong portrayal of her in both doctor who and our flag means death!! Let me tell you a few things about the rightfully named "Pirate queen".

On average, most pirates died 2 years after starting piracy. Edward Teach died after two years, Stede Bonnet died after one and Israel Hands impressively died around 8 years after starting, all executed. Our pirate queen died at 68 after a successful 9 year career. In fact, she only stopped because she was made to surrender and lived the rest of her years in effective retirement.

She inherited her late husbands pirate fleets and at one point commanded around 1,800 ships. Blackbeard is believed to have a maximum of 5- likely because he didn't get along with people well enough to amass enough crews to run them. She had the largest fleet in history.

Zheng Yi Sao was a leader and undoubtedly one of the most successful pirates ever and yet we dare to forget her.

[inkskinned]

the thing about art is that it was always supposed to be about us, about the human-ness of us, the impossible and beautiful reality that we (for centuries) have stood still, transfixed by music. that we can close our eyes and cry about the same book passage; the events of which aren't real and never happened. theatre in shakespeare's time was as real as it is now; we all laugh at the same cue (pursued by bear), separated hundreds of years apart.

three years ago my housemates were jamming outdoors, just messing around with their instruments, mostly just making noise. our neighbors - shy, cautious, a little sheepish - sat down and started playing. i don't really know how it happened; i was somehow in charge of dancing, barefoot and laughing - but i looked up, and our yard was full of people. kids stacked on the shoulders of parents. old couples holding hands. someone had brought sidewalk chalk; our front walk became a riot of color. someone ran in with a flute and played the most astounding solo i've ever heard in my life, upright and wiggling, skipping as she did so. she only paused because the violin player was kicking his heels up and she was laughing too hard to continue.

two weeks ago my friend and i met in the basement of her apartment complex so she could work out a piece of choreography. we have a language barrier - i'm not as good at ASL as i'd like to be (i'm still learning!) so we communicate mostly through the notes app and this strange secret language of dancers - we have the same movement vocabulary. the two of us cracking jokes at each other, giggling. there were kids in the basement too, who had been playing soccer until we took up the far corner of the room. one by one they made their slow way over like feral cats - they laid down, belly-flat against the floor, just watching. my friend and i were not in tutus - we were in slouchy shirts and leggings and socks. nothing fancy. but when i asked the kids would you like to dance too? they were immediately on their feet and spinning. i love when people dance with abandon, the wild and leggy fervor of childhood. i think it is gorgeous.

their adults showed up eventually, and a few of them said hey, let's not bother the nice ladies. but they weren't bothering us, they were just having fun - so. a few of the adults started dancing awkwardly along, and then most of the adults. someone brought down a better sound system. someone opened a watermelon and started handing out slices. it was 8 PM on a tuesday and nothing about that day was particularly special; we might as well party.

one time i hosted a free "paint along party" and about 20 adults worked quietly while i taught them how to paint nessie. one time i taught community dance classes and so many people showed up we had to move the whole thing outside. we used chairs and coatracks to balance. one time i showed up to a random band playing in a random location, and the whole thing got packed so quickly we had to open every door and window in the place.

i don't think i can tell you how much people want to be making art and engaging with art. they want to, desperately. so many people would be stunning artists, but they are lied to and told from a very young age that art only matters if it is planned, purposeful, beautiful. that if you have an idea, you need to be able to express it perfectly. this is not true. you don't get only 1 chance to communicate. you can spend a lifetime trying to display exactly 1 thing you can never quite language. you can just express the "!!??!!!"-ing-ness of being alive; that is something none of us really have a full grasp on creating. and even when we can't make what we want - god, it feels fucking good to try. and even just enjoying other artists - art inherently rewards the act of participating.

i wasn't raised wealthy. whenever i make a post about art, someone inevitably says something along the lines of well some of us aren't that lucky. i am not lucky; i am dedicated. i have a chronic condition, my hands are constantly in pain. i am not neurotypical, nor was i raised safe. i worked 5-7 jobs while some of these memories happened. i chose art because it mattered to me more than anything on this fucking planet - i would work 80 hours a week just so i could afford to write in 3 of them.

and i am still telling you - if you are called to make art, you are called to the part of you that is human. you do not have to be good at it. you do not have to have enormous amounts of privilege. you can just... give yourself permission. you can just say i'm going to make something now and then - go out and make it. raquel it won't be good though that is okay, i don't make good things every time either. besides. who decides what good even is?

you weren't called to make something because you wanted it to be good, you were called to make something because it is a basic instinct. you were taught to judge its worth and over-value perfection. you are doing something impossible. a god's ability: from nothing springs creation.

a few months ago i found a piece of sidewalk chalk and started drawing. within an hour i had somehow collected a small classroom of young children. their adults often brought their own chalk. i looked up and about fifteen families had joined me from around the block. we drew scrangly unicorns and messed up flowers and one girl asked me to draw charizard. i am not good at drawing. i basically drew an orb with wings. you would have thought i drew her the mona lisa. she dragged her mother over and pointed and said look! look what she drew for me and, in the moment, i admit i flinched (sorry, i don't -). but the mother just grinned at me. he's beautiful. and then she sat down and started drawing.

someone took a picture of it. it was in the local newspaper. the summary underneath said joyful and spontaneous artwork from local artists springs up in public gallery. in the picture, a little girl covered in chalk dust has her head thrown back, delighted. laughing.

[this-simplefeeling]

erm okay so... the way this argument ends...

because obviously the doctor is about to blame donna for spilling the coffee, but he catches himself, backs off and apologizes. and it's not him catching himself in a "this is a pointless argument because i'm right and you aren't getting that so i give up" sorta way- because in that beat after, he isn't irritated, he doesn't start trying to figure out a way to reiterate his point. it's him catching himself in a "that was the wrong thing to say and i regret that" sorta way.

it's him catching himself becoming another one of the voices in donna's head calling her a screw up.

[aletterinthenameofsanity]

writing fanfiction is just fingers clenching over a keyboard as you ferally mutter i just want this little guy to be held, damn it and proceeding to hurt said little guy (gn) for about 10k words before you actually give them their hug

[neon-lights-stardust-nights]

Being even slightly condescended to by anyone: >:(

The same being introduced in a controlled kink environemnt: 0///0

[lonelyzarquon]

[khaopybara]

❝You said if I graduated as a doctor, I could ask you for anything, and you'd give it to me. (...) I know now what I want. (...) I want you.❞

SONYA SARANPHAT as PLENG SADABPIN and LOOKMHEE PUNYAPAT as WAN WANWIYA episode 1 of AFFAIR

[aomaoe]

smile, doctor! 📸

[sparrowlucero]

The genus Silurian ("Person of the Silures", in reference to the historical territory of Wales in which they were first found) was initially known only from a single fossil, notable in part for the unusual object fossilized alongside it (1). Though this was generally accepted to simply be a large petrified stick, the "Silurian Artifact" was often a point of discussion in the topic of dinosaur intelligence and the theory of pre-human civilizations. It wasn't until large-scale mining operations began to impede on their extensive networks of stasis chambers that the Silurians themselves finally woke up and were able to meet humankind in person. To the surprise of many (and dismay of a few) the Silurians were not the scaled, humanoid "dinosauroids" so often depicted, but colorful, feathered, and relatively goose-shaped. Most Silurians who were present in the planet's underground represent the gentry and high ranking military, who were given priority in the earth-based shelters. Most others were evacuated on large, extensive spaceships, all of which are yet to return to Earth. Due to this, the varied mindsets and cultures of the Silurians are in shambles at best, largely replaced by the speciesism and real estate concerns of the upper classes. (1) Much later, the original type fossil was identified as Rohlik, a student who fell to his death after attempting to drunkenly pole vault over a ravine with a large petrified stick.

[osinthewhite]

People ask if Ten and Rose fucked like he wasn't wearing 5 layers of clothes every day. Ain't nobody got time to take all that shit off