#especially if it's with ''good intentions''

[planar-river-road]

I honestly think both sides have merits in a vacuum (we shouldn't disincentivize bad people from actually trying to be better but we also shouldn't allow them any position or even pretense of authority and we especially shouldn't simply assume good intent where historically there was none; if Hitler was ordering his Nazis not to vote for Trump, that's not a case of him allying with anyone, it's a case of the leopards eating each other's faces).

In this specific case though, something that should come before any discussion of reward or support is the question of why those people are suddenly backing a different candidate, in an era where the Overton Window is steadily being pushed further. How much is it them moving towards your side, and how much is it the candidate in question moving towards their standpoint that's still the same as it was before?

Löl

[revelboo]

So a question not a request, what colour do you think is their release? transfluid ? BC in G1 transformers energon is pinkish glowy? And some artists who draw nsfw draw it the same pinkish colour and others white? What do you think? Like how do you imagine it?

I usually imagine pink 🤣 but I grew up with G1. I’d guess it would have to do with their diet, though. Like when TFP Megs gets into his SpaceCrack ™️ or TFP Ratchet gets into synth-en. I’d think if there’s enough in their system, their release would reflect that. Same with unprocessed blue energon, if that’s what they’re ingesting, that’s the color their release would be.

Slick

TFP Megatron

• Rumbling lazily as he slips free of you and rolls onto his back, his head turns to watch you push yourself up on shaky legs. Taking satisfaction as his excess trails down your inner thigh. Up until you look down, nose wrinkling and then go still. “Are you still doing your purple psycho drugs?” Gritting his denta, he vents tiredly.

• Hear him growl and you turn his way, brows arched daring him to deny it when his glowing, purple alien slick is running down your leg. Don’t even want to think what his space crack jizz is going to you. “Wherever would you get that idea, pet?” He asks, grinning sharkily as his optics do a lazy perusal of you. You’d noticed his optics hadn’t been as bloody red as normal, but they hadn’t been glowing purple either.

• “No drugs while you’re sparked. How is that so freaking hard to get through that head of yours?” You snap at him, your anger going straight through him to his spike, feeling it stir again as he pushes to his peds and you freeze, attention dipping to his erect spike bobbing between his thighs. “Don’t you dare- I’m mad at you right now.”

• Grinning as he stalks you, he lunges and you bolt the other way, bare feet noisy on his berth as he follows you in no real hurry. It’s not like there’s anywhere you can hide. “If you don’t want me tainting our sparkling, then come take it from me,” he challenges, servos flexing. Because you’re going to sooner or later. This is embarrassing and it’d be a debacle if any of his command finds out he’s a carrier. That his human pet sparked him.

• This again? You have no intention of bailing him out by taking the spark. Especially since he’d not asked before trying to knock you up with his demon spawn. And you’re just trying your best not to think of a mini, evil him. One’s enough. Since it’s his kid it’ll probably burst out of him like a xenomorph and you want nothing to do with it. “I’m good with mini you staying with you.” With him for a dad, that kid doesn’t have a chance anyway and you’d probably end up a chew toy if it has denta like his.

(Sorry I haven’t been too active today, I got sun burnt mowing)

[velmalav]

Northern Downpour - Frank Langdon

Northern Downpour – f.l.

masterlist - open to requests!

synopsis: You start having an affair with Dr. Langdon, something purely need driven, or at least that’s what you tell yourselves.

warnings: SMUT 18+, cheating!frank, swearing, 3400+ words

It started on a rainy Tuesday evening.

You’d been in a shitty mood all day. You and your husband, Jake, had had a massive blow-up first thing in the morning. The words exchanged had been rushed and hurtful and in the midst of you hurrying to get ready for your shift in the ER. Words that echoed, rattled you even during the busiest hours of your workday.

There had been a lot of tension in your marriage for months, always stemming from the same issue. Your work. It took a toll, the long hours, and the constant tragedies you absorbed daily didn’t exactly help your mood when you were home. But you’d been trying, really trying, so it was like a punch in the gut when he brought it up again in a way that diminished all of the hard work you were doing. Not only that, but Jake wasn’t exactly the most perceptive guy, especially when it came to your feelings. In the throes of all of your conjoined problems, he’d never once noticed how unhappy you were with him.

You’d never been one to dwell on your own needs and wants; you simply accepted the hard truth that asking for what you want doesn’t make it so. Especially with him. A fact you learned in the early stages of your relationship, and now looking back, wished you’d advocated for yourself more. Because it’s always his needs and what he wants, never a lingering consideration for you. The resentment you harbored for him always took a backseat because deep down, you felt it was silly. Pathetic.

You and Jake hadn’t had consistent sex, or good sex, since the work issues really started kicking off. What started as a simple turn away in bed during a fight escalated into fragility, hesitancy to touch even when you weren’t arguing. You were always the one to try and start something in the bedroom, and as the months progressed, the more he pulled away. Almost like a punishment. And when he did accept your advances, he put nothing into it. No foreplay, no talking, just fifteen minutes in the dark that left you unsatisfied.

The weight of it all hit you in the parking garage after your shift with the realization that you’d have to return to it. Jake hadn’t sent a single text all day, a sign that he had no intention of speaking to you when you arrived home. You sat there, the engine on, staring at the concrete wall through the windshield wondering how many bones you could break if you hit it hard enough.

You’d been contemplating a strong seven or eight when a knuckle tapped on your window. You looked up to see Langdon, your fellow senior resident, standing there with his hand still up in the knocking motion. You rolled down your window.

“Didn’t get enough of me for the day?” you said, the twinge of banter you usually have in your tone defeated to an exhausted, strained one.

He huffed a laugh, resting his arm on the window ledge. “No comment on that,” he quipped back, also sounding just as tired. And tense. “My, uh, car won’t start. Think you could give me a ride home?”

You nodded immediately. The idea of having a little extra time before you had to face Jake is exactly what you need. Langdon threw his bag in the backseat before jogging around to the passenger side. He settled in, leaned back with a sigh and ran a hand through his hair.

“Thanks.”

“Trust me, it’s not a problem,” you replied, turning around to back out of the spot. “Just put your address into my phone.”

“Can you open it for me?” Langdon held the phone towards you.

You waved him off, “It’s 0707, maps is in the top right corner.”

He put the code in quickly. Turned his head, eyes full of curiosity. “Any reason you picked that one?”

You gripped the steering wheel and bit down the urge to roll your eyes at his question. “It’s me and Jake’s anniversary.”

In your peripheral vision, you caught Langdon’s expression. Confused, even more curious. Clearly, you weren’t doing a good job at hiding your bubbling aggravation towards your husband. But thankfully, he didn’t say anything, just finished typing the address in and put your phone back on the dash.

Both of you sat in silence for most of the drive, the only sounds the muffled radio and the rain as it pattered on the windows. You’ve never been close at work, but in that moment you were really hoping he’d start talking. Just to keep your mind off of it all. The longer you stayed in your own thoughts, the more the anxiety grew.

“How’re your kids?” you blurted out when the anxiety got to be too much. Knuckles flushed at the insane grip you had on the wheel.

Langdon whipped his head toward you, whatever reverie he was in seeming hard to shake off. You could’ve sworn he seemed just as volatile in the way he fidgeted with the bracelet on his wrist and the tightness in his jaw.

“Great,” he replied, blank and unassuming. “Tanner made the baseball team, so that’s good.”

“That is good. Good for him.”

A lot of ‘good’ being used by two people who seemed much of the opposite. You side-eyed him when he turned back to the passenger window. There was definitely something off about him, and your question appeared to have made it worse.

“How’s Jake, by the way?” he suddenly asked, voice distant and faraway in his thoughts.

“Fine,” you said all-too-quickly. Holy shit am I bad at pretending tonight. Get it together.

When you didn’t elaborate, Langdon turned back to you with the same curious look he had before. “That’s it?”

“Yep.”

Still facing you, he leaned towards the passenger window, as if sizing you up. Raised eyebrows, parted lips. “Okay,” he finally said. “If you say so.”

“As if you’d care anyway,” you muttered under your breath, not as a dig, but a rogue thought that popped out of your mouth subconsciously. Langdon’s brows reached new heights, shocked by your sudden aggression. “No offense, we just don’t talk about that kind of stuff with each other.”

He nodded in understanding, face neutral again. “True. None taken.” Again, he turned away, resumed fiddling with the bracelet. “But if you wanted to talk about it, I’d listen.”

You shook your head. “No, it’s whatever. Better if I don’t right now anyway.”

It’s your turn to be confused when you arrived at his destination. It’s a ballpark, stocked with two sets of bleachers and dugouts and a small baseball diamond. It must be where his son plays.

“Why did you want to be dropped off here?”

Langdon faced in front of him and stared out into the field, eyes hollow, drained. He sighed in the way you do after an especially rough night with Jake.

“I don’t live far from here,” he stated plainly in the dark, eyes transfixed on the rain now coming down in sheets.

“That’s not what I asked.”

“I don’t want to go home, and no, I don’t want to talk about it.”

You couldn’t help but stare at him. His eyebags were more pronounced, veins protruding from his neck like he was holding a mountain of baggage back. Is this what I look like?

“That’s okay,” you murmured softly, flickering your stare to the rain, too. “But if you ever want to talk about it, I’d listen.”

Langdon snorted; an empty smile appeared on his face. You smiled, too, but you didn’t need a mirror to know it didn’t reach your eyes either. Hypnotized now by the worsening weather, you both stayed like that for a long time. Just staring forward, trying to let your afflictions wash away with the rain. It was refreshing to have someone next to you, just being there, not feeling like they have to say anything to comfort or make you feel like you have to do the same.

“What’re you gonna to do about your car?” you suddenly asked. Breaking the barrier between you and the rest of the world.

He shrugged, stifling a laugh at your random question. “Don’t know. Thought maybe I’d set up camp in the parking garage for a while or something.”

“Can I join?”

You both laughed, genuine ones at that. Spent the next hour dreaming up intangible scenarios to avoid the shitty parts of your life. Planning how you’d both fit in a small four-door Toyota Camry, how efficient it would be to get to work, how you’d hold a big barbeque after a rough shift with the new grill Langdon’s brother-in-law got him for his birthday. For the first time all day, you felt like you could breathe. And you could tell he felt the same.

It didn’t last as long as you’d hoped. Once the laughs had died down, they were replaced with the inevitably of your responsibilities. Your respective families would be wondering where you were soon. The realization was like a knife, quick and fast, jumpstarting your anxiety again. You glanced over at Langdon to see he was already staring at you, eyes scouring, as if trying to read your thoughts.

“My husband hates my job,” you uttered abruptly. Your gaze flickered to your lap. “And I think he hates me, too.”

“Doubt that. Well, the second part at least,” Langdon said, hard eyes softening. There was a vulnerability in him after he said that. Shoulders slumped, eyebrows sloping downward. “Do you hate him?”

His tone was nonchalant, but the question was a boulder. “I-…I don’t know.”

You’d considered how you were feeling about him, but not nearly enough to have really fleshed it out. All of your focus had been on Jake, and how we was feeling, and how you needed to fix things.

“If it’s any consolation, my marriage isn’t doing any better,” Langdon muttered, tone now filled to the brim with bitterness.

“It isn’t,” you whispered, gnawing at your cheek.

“It feels pathetic sometimes,” he continued on as if you’d not said anything at all. “She’s supportive, she’s there, but I just—”

His sentence ends strangled, unable to fully emerge. You couldn’t tell if it was because he thought he’d said too much or because it was just too difficult to admit out loud. Probably both. Something about the rigidity in his words, in his body language, feels familiar. You’d had the same tautness anytime you thought about the conversation you wanted to have with Jake about your intimacies.

“Feel like you’re asking for too much?” you finished for him, posing it as more of a guess.

Langdon snapped his eyes to yours, a quiet understanding between you. He slowly nodded, as if he was processing something. Then he spoke words that went straight to your chest, an undirected stab.

“I feel like I shouldn’t have to ask her to just…want me.”

Your face fell, again unable to hide the obvious emotion etched on your face. The car felt like a cage all of a sudden, almost as if you’d said the words yourself. Not sure how to respond, you just nodded, hoping your eyes showed the cognizance you failed to vocalize.

Langdon took a beat to digest your acknowledgement before he pushed the car door open and fled out into the rain. You watched him, pitiful tears clinging to your lashes as you felt sorry for yourself. And him.

He stood with his hands in his jacket pockets in the glow of the headlights, his back to you. You could see how slick his hair already was from the storm, strands blowing in the harsh winds. This was the opposite of how you’d known him; he’d never seemed the angsty type, just a normal resident with a bad mouth and an attention-deficient disorder. And seeing him like this, it changed the way you saw him. Less shallow, and pitifully, more attractive.

Which is part of the reason you also stepped out of the car, slammed the door, and approached him with absolutely no hesitation. He turned at your presence seconds before you lassoed a hand to the back of his neck and jerked his mouth onto yours.

It was rash, dangerous, ethically just fucking wrong. You weren’t thinking about anything but what it would feel like to have someone crave you. You weren’t asking for someone to want you; you were demanding it.

Langdon was surprised, body stuttering, but he didn’t miss a beat. His wet hands grasped your back like a lifeline, lips parting to take a single breath only to slam back onto yours. Your other hand trickled its way into his hair, balling up a section to yank towards you. You hadn’t felt this turned on in a long time, unable to stop yourself from moaning directly into his mouth as his teeth ground into your bottom lip.

“Backseat,” he fumbled out breathlessly. He kept his hands on you wherever he could as you both booked it to the car, haphazardly discarding your soaked jackets behind the seats.

You fell into the back seat first, back against the opposite door, legs stretched out as he climbed in between them. The undressing was vicious, carnal, fingers tearing at the fabric of your clothes. Once you were both just in your underwear, Langdon gripped your hair, yanking down so your head thudded against the seat before reconnecting your lips. His other hand roamed down the column of your throat as if to feel your unsteady breaths.

You parted your lips to bring his tongue to yours, devouring every inch of his mouth like you’d never taste it again. And maybe you wouldn’t. Then you felt something spongy slide onto your tongue, eyes flashing open at the spearmint flavor.

“Didn’t have time to spit it out,” Langdon said, hovering just above you, rain droplets bleeding onto your cheeks. You responded by pulling him in again, tongue exchanging the gum back to him, causing him to let out an aroused groan.

Your hands scoured his back, fighting the urge to scratch into the skin. He lifted your leg to wrap around his back, the other following suit. He pulled back to start licking at the column of your throat, sucking softly to garner a moan from you.

“Can’t leave marks,” you rasped out, but your head fell back against the seat anyway. Langdon hummed in agreement then kissed lower until his lips enveloped your left nipple. The silver nipple ring you had on danced between his tongue, causing you to indent your nails into his shoulder blade and release a loud moan.

“Fuck, sorry,” you gasped out at the realization you’d left crescent moons in his skin.

“If I could have you the way I want, I’d let you,” he responded in the midst of sucking, and as fucked up as it is, it only made you wetter.

As his teeth gnashed at your nipple, one of his hands travelled lower until it found your panties, finger stalled above the fabric, right where you need him. He drew circles on your clit, and though it wasn’t direct contact, your hips jutted forward for him without thought. You could feel his growing smile on your nipple at your reaction.

“Frank, I need you. Now.” you demanded, despite the brittleness of your voice. Langdon sprang into action, ripped open a condom he found in the center console, and shimmied out of his boxers. You helped him put it on when you noticed how shaky his hands were and pushed your damp panties to the side.

Then he’s lined himself up, towering over you with beads of rain or sweat dripping onto your heated skin. You wrapped your hands around the base of him, wanting to feel him bottom out inside you.

“Holy shit,” Frank stammered as his hips meet yours, the arm that held him up faltering. You exhaled at the feeling, all of the worries and frustration from earlier leaking out of your body like a balloon. It’s wrong – definitely wrong, but it feels so good. “God, you’re so wet.”

He started to thrust, hard, right out of the gate. You pushed yourself up on your elbows and gripped the back of his neck. Your foreheads were touching, but you both closed your eyes, chasing after the high and avoiding all of the guilt that comes with it.

Strings of curse words leapt between you, you rocked into him to quicken his pace and kneaded circles on your clit. Then you dared to open your eyes, feeling Langdon’s hot spearmint breath fanning your face. Eyes shut, his lips were parted in ecstasy, neck thrust up to expose his throat. There’s nothing else in the world but you two in that moment, just you, him, and the blissful feeling of him thrusting in and out. You dipped down, glistening lips meeting his throat, teeth grazing there.

Langdon moaned in response, and his eyes flashed open. You leaned back up to level yourself to him, and without words, opened your mouth.

His pace faltered at your ask and his eyes were swimming as if intoxicated by you. He wrapped his mouth around yours, tongue gliding out to pass the gum. You accepted it immediately, leave the kiss with a pop and stared right into his defenseless eyes.

It was completely accidental, or at least you convince yourself of it, that right in the moment after you pass the gum, Langdon reached his high, tumbling forward with a groan. All he managed to choke out was a slurred, “fuck, I’m—” before it happened. He had you pinned to the seat, faces inches apart, thrusting through his orgasm. The recognition of what you’d just done sent you tumbling over the edge, your hips jutted into his with an unholy string of moans.

Only a minute passed of you both regaining your composure before reality set in. Langdon pulled himself upright into the opposite seat, unable to meet your eyes as he pulled the condom off and tossed it out the window. You remained lying there, eyes transfixed at the ceiling.

What the fuck have we done?

The air was thick and heavy when you both redressed. The car being so small, it was difficult to do so without brushing against one another, every movement another shocking reminder of the betrayal. You silently passed him a brush from your work bag without looking at him. He took it and began to cover his tracks.

“We fucked up,” you state with a voice overflowing with dread.

Langdon was quiet for a long time. You finally looked over to see him gripping the brush with white knuckles.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “We did.”

Silence returned, stifling the conversation but igniting all the worries you had been trying to escape. The worst part was even in the thoughts of regret and self-pity and excuses, deep down it felt like a façade. Like that’s what you were supposed to feel. Because as awful as what you’d done was, you’d felt wanted for just a few minutes. And given the option to take it back, you wouldn’t.

“I regret it, but I…I don’t,” you found yourself saying, not necessarily to him, but just to say it. To analyze if this was real, if you truly felt that way.

Langdon’s head turned; guilty eyes fastened to yours. He leaned towards you, a palm reaching to wipe off the rain splattered to the side of your face. A simple gesture, not something you’d usually dwell on, but at this moment, it’s an unspoken agreement. He wanted it, too, and in the dark parts of him he doesn’t let anyone else access, he still did.

You both found a way to curb the need you’d been too scared to ask for, and though it wasn’t a sensible way to get it, it was now out there as an option. And, as much as you hated to admit it, an easier one.

So with a newfound arrangement, a deep-seeded, unspoken one, you drove him home. And then you went back to your turbulent home, your turbulent husband, and went to bed alone.

Despite every fiber in your being screaming that it was all wrong, you went to sleep knowing you’d be giving Langdon rides home for as long as he needed them.

[nodietedrecovery]

[image description: instagram post by @nutrifoodie.ca aka Cristel Moubarak, RD, with a drawing of a brown-skinned doctor in the corner.

Text reads: If your doctor diagnoses you based off of your Body Size, SWITCH DOCTORS!

end description]

Good advice. Sadly, it's not that simple for all of us. I'm on medicaid, and finding new doctors that take my insurance is not so simple as just switching! Especially if the only HAES doctors are nowhere near me. If you can switch doctors, you can use an HAES directory like these:

Bare health: https://barehealth.co/

ASDAH: https://asdah.org/listing/

Sometimes you're stuck with a fatphobic doctor and you need to advocate for yourself. There are resources out there for us too!

Download self-advocacy cards here: https://haeshealthsheets.com/resources/

How to advocate for yourself (article): https://www.verywellhealth.com/self-advocacy-guide-at-doctors-weight-stigma-8609846

HAES health sheets on different conditions: https://haeshealthsheets.com/the-health-sheet-library/

HAES: Why we don't recommend weight loss: https://haeshealthsheets.com/why-we-dont-recommend-intentional-weight-loss/

[genderrogue]

Such an achingly well rendered portrait of a specific slice of the transfeminine experience. Its use of color is especially poignant. Alex's life is exclusively illuminated in cold tones, muddy shadows and harsh blue light. Even her blood is black instead of vibrant red. The vibrant pink and green of the world of Miracle Chan is barely present: even the cosplay is washed out by the gloom and sickly digital glow of her room. The places where those bright colors exist in the real world are all associated with the friend who is trying to pull Alex out of her shell. Both her hair and the lights of her apartment glow pink and green. Throughout the film Alex lingers at this boundary of the real before retreating back into its facsimile. She sinks into the credits staring at a replacement for happiness that still leaves her illuminated in the same cold tones found in the rest of her life.

If your takeaway from this film was that it was bad and transphobic or hostile to otaku culture I genuinely think you should not be watching short films. Yes, the framing is uncomfortable and casts Alex as some kind of obsessive pervert. This is intentional. At this point in her life Alex is held back by the paranoia of being seen as a sexualized interloper in womens spaces. The uncomfortable framing is being used to place you in her shoes. Art is under no obligation to make you feel good, only to make you feel. If that's something you aren't ready to accept, if you need a girlboss coming out narrative to feel good, then go elsewhere. Don't drag down the creator of a heartfelt piece because you're too fragile to appreciate it.

"Transform with the power all girls hold!" My short film Angelic Kitty Miracle-chan is out! Thank you all so much for your support on making this project

You can watch it here on Youtube

poster painting by Frank Hadzima

[lvmimis]

cw: love triangle. hurt/comfort.

Your heart pounds rapidly in your chest still as you fumble your keys into the ignition of your car, your pulse probably fast enough to fuel the engine on its own. Tears that only pricked at your eyes earlier as you stormed out of the Fortuna branch Devil May Cry van now run freely down your cheeks, and you hate that you look a mess for something so stupid, but you feel stupid overall.

You’re nothing more than a passing distraction after all. Harm to a sweet girl, temptation to an otherwise good man. You knew better, you’ve known since you were very young, and here you are, crying and trying to get as far as you can because you let your guard slip just once.

The engine finally thrums to life despite the delay, as if providence itself wants you to slow down and think about what you’re going to do next, but as you step on the ignition, you find yourself lurching forward, the rev of the engine loud and clear, but the car going nowhere. In fact, it appears to jerk briefly backwards, destabilizing you - you should really put on your seatbelt - before its wheels settle back in place.

Stunned for just a second, you step on the gas again, until the same thing happens, and then it occurs to you. Your head snaps back to the rear view mirror, and there he is, glaring right back at you, sky blue eyes red rimmed themselves to match yours as one hand grips tightly on the rear bumper of your car, willing it to stay in place, while the other hangs loosely by his side.

You grip the steering wheel, then stick your head out the window.

“Are you fucking crazy?!”

Nero doesn’t respond, and as you stomp on the gas one more time, the engine roars again, but the car continues to make absolutely no distance forward. Overwhelmed with frustration, you find yourself groaning loudly, then shout again.

“You can’t stop me from leaving!”

You stomp on the gas again, but he’s rock steady, and you lay onto the horn, a cry of aggravation not for help - you don’t need help, but you need him to know that you can’t stand him right now.

“Grow up, Nero!”

At this, Nero does flinch a little, enough that the flame of your anger flickers just a little, and he averts his eyes so that he’s looking off in the distance in the night. This clearing is relatively empty save for your two vehicles - Nico is off to sleep in a real bed at a nearby inn several hundred feet away, and the two of you had aimed to talk for a few moments longer under the stars, but of course, that devolved into the current scene.

How could he not have told her?

The softness still retained in his voice as he reassures Kyrie over the phone that he and Nico are okay, the very passing mention of you being around as well. It all makes you feel disgusting and impure and pathetic, especially when the taste of his lips is still so very present on your tongue.

You’re not built to not care.

Nero inhales deeply and lets out a visible exhale, still not letting go in case you attempt to speed off once again.

“Just let me explain it to you. Please. Once I’m done, if you still want to leave, I promise not to stop you.”

Biting your lip enough that you almost draw blood, you contemplate this for a moment. The steering wheel you grip tightly feels safe and grounding. You squeeze, then press your forehead onto it, letting the coolness seep through your skin. A few moments pass, and you can feel Nero watching you from behind, growing concerned, but you turn the ignition off, then raise your head. Before you can open the door he’s beside you, almost a bit too fast, but he senses your intent and opens the door for you, stepping aside as it swings open.

His eyes are still teary red. 

“Listen, I’m not trying to hurt you.”

Your posture is closed and impenetrable, arms crossed over your chest. You raise an eyebrow, and you don’t have to say the words before he understands them, pronounced clear as day in his head.

You’re doing a terrible job of it.

“It’s just-” he runs his hand through his hair, distressed, pleading. There’s a hunch in his back that’s unnatural for such a proud man but you say nothing, open to hear whatever excuse he has to offer before you can ridicule him. 

“I can’t end things on a phone call.”

“Then don’t touch me,” you snap. He opens his mouth in protest, but closes it immediately in resignation. 

“Right.”

He bites his lip, before letting his loosely held fist rest against the hood of your car as he stares at the ground.

“Don’t play games with me,” you murmur.

He looks at you again - really looks - and you almost feel bad for calling him a coward just moments ago as you gathered your things. You can imagine the insult is replaying in his head even now as he stands before you. 

He’s a lot of things, but he’s not a coward. In this, he’s more careful than anything, unwilling to hurt his loved ones.

“It doesn’t have to be me,” you know. Your arms tighten around your own body again, keeping you safe and warm and together. “I’ll get over this… whatever this is. As long as you give me time.”

He quickly interjects.

“It has to be you,” he insists. “I… I know it feels different when I’m with you, something more than just…” he trails off.

He’s being careful with his speech, out of respect, out of love. The words a soft landing place come to mind. Home, peace, sanctuary… those are the things Kyrie is for him, and you should never intrude upon that. You can’t offer him that. You’re tumultuous and moody and you’ve only softened down your rough edges over time, you’re not a natural, unblemished smooth surface.

“She’s what you need,” you admit, even if your voice breaks at the end.

“Please,” he starts, reaching for your hand before thinking better of it. “Just… just let me be the one to tell you what I need.”

Someone has to pay for the upset roiling in your chest, you feel, but it’s not solely his fault, nor even your own, really and definitely not hers.

“Please don’t run away from me,” he asks of you, in a voice, softer and more desperate. “I won’t-” he pauses, then regains his voice, “touch you again, not until I’m face to face with her and tell her the truth.”

Your lips press into a thin line, and he tells you what you’ve always wanted to hear from him.

“I need you. I want you.”

You think of Kyrie again, guilt eating away at you.

“I don’t really want to make you choose, Nero,” you admit, your voice croaking. The tears you hold back start to make their way back to the surface. “I kind of wish we’d never met.”

“Don’t say that.”

An edge in his voice returns ever so slightly until he recomposes himself with a deep breath.

“Please, don’t say that,” he reiterates, the hurt vibrating in the thrum of his voice. “You’re not making me choose. I already did choose, and I promise to do a better job of following through.”

You can sense the longing in his hands that move towards you but never quite reach, based on the invisible barrier of your consent (or lack thereof). You’ll allow him just this once, reaching for his right hand first, and placing it where he wants it to be, on the curve of your right cheek. His lips fall open gently, and his thumb wipes away an escaping tear.

“I’m a bad person,” you whisper.

He’s not supposed to touch you so the most he allows himself to do is open his arms as you step in closer, tucking you under his chin.

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

You want to argue, but instead you hold him closer, letting your selfishness win at least for just a few more moments.

Maybe you won’t run away, not just yet.

[purplehalnw]

Props to the Daredevil writers because there are moments between Matt and Foggy like:

-Foggy saying that Matt's a "really good looking guy" when they first meet

-Foggy and Matt equating owning a law firm together to them being married

-Matt saying "you're not gonna kiss me" and Foggy responding "I'm feeling a little something"

That could come off as queerbaiting but honestly don't, at least in my opinion.

Some of my fave celebrity dynamics (David Tennant & Michael Sheen, Anthony Mackie & Sebastian Stan) are friends who are secure enough in their sexualities and identities that they're totally fine with jokingly flirting with/saying romantic things about each other. And this seems like something that the Daredevil writers were doing with Matt and Foggy's relationship.

Like in most instances, queerbaiting comes from the situations two (often male) characters are put in. They're put in situations that force them to be super close with one another or in situations where other characters assume that they're a couple, both of which the audience is expected to laugh at. You're laughing at how "compromising" the situation is. Because being queer is largely seen as something shameful and emasculating and seeing these men being essentially humiliated is meant to be funny.

I think an example of this is Bucky and Sam in "Falcon and the Winter Soldier". There's the scene where Bucky and Sam fall off a truck in ep 2 and roll around in the grass, holding onto each other. Even when they stop rolling, Bucky doesn't get off of Sam until Sam pushes him off. There's a scene in that same episode where Bucky and Sam are with Bucky's therapist who suggests that they do a "soul gazing exercise" that she "usually does with couples". To do the exercise, Bucky and Sam have to get so close that they end up interlocking legs. In the end, Sam tells the therapist "thanks doc, for making it weird".

In these moments you're laughing at how unwillingly physically close Bucky and Sam have to be, you're laughing at them being treated/framed like a couple, but you're not supposed to seriously expect them to ever be together. It's pretty mean-spirited.

And in my opinion what makes Matt and Foggy different from this is that they are the ones making the jokes. They aren't ashamed by the idea of them being together, in fact they're endeared by it. So, in this case you're laughing with them, not at them.

Plus, queerbaiting has intention behind it. The writers intend to bait queer people with representation without giving them any payoff so that they can also appeal to the homophobes in the audience. And in my opinion, it's clear that the Daredevil writers never intended to give off the impression that Matt and Foggy might be a couple some day.

Obviously, no hate to Matt & Foggy shippers. People love romance, especially between those who are already close friends. But I do really love their friendship and how it's the heart of the show.

Some writers are so afraid of their male characters being interpreted as gay that they'll just ruin their relationship in general. Like how the Star Wars sequels separated Finn and Poe and started giving them random female love interests. Or how the MCU decided to have Steve abandon Bucky just so he could go back in time to be with his previously-almost-girlfriend Peggy who had moved on from him in the future.

But the Daredevil writers definitely aren't afraid of Matt and Foggy being too close. Matt gets several love interests but pretty much all of them end up leaving him in some way. But you know who is always there for him? Foggy. His friendship with Foggy is the most important relationship in the show, even in death it seems (haven't seen Born Again yet but I of course couldn't avoid spoilers).

[dudududuumaxverstappen]

Comfort - Lewis Hamilton x fem. Reader

Reader is an art dealer/curator in this one. Lewis returns to the hotel room after the qualifying in Bahrain…

"Did you have a good time?" Lewis asks as he walks past the bed you’re sitting on, not even deigning you a glance and you can already hear it in his tone that something is off. His shoulders are slouched, his whole posture like a heavy weight is resting upon him. You have seen parts of the qualifying and for a moment think that this is what causes his sadness but—

"Eating and … flirting with this prince or whatever he is," he huffs.

Your brow furrows of its own accord. You place your book down and sit up straighter, looking at him.

"Flirting?" you repeat silently and give your head a shake. "Who would I have been flirting with?"

Eventually, he turns to you, a frown adorning his handsome face. "Don’t act like I‘m stupid, Y/N." He gives his head a shake, followed by a humourless laugh. "On top of everything … I‘m so done with this day. Just give me some space, okay? I‘ll take a bath."

You‘re shocked to say the least. You have no idea what he‘s talking about. While he was qualifying today, you went out to have dinner with a some clients in Bahrain — people interested in the latest art you‘re dealing with. That was it. Work and no flirting and how would Lewis even know?

You know he asked for space, and you want to give him exactly that, but you can’t, knowing that he was already upset from qualifying and now also with you.

You can’t let that happen, especially since there’s no reason for him to be upset with you.

Slipping off the bed, you slide your feet into the hotel slippers and silently make your way over to the bathroom, hoping to find it unlocked. Which you do.

Carefully, you walk inside, unsure of how you even start. You want to make your point clear that nothing had happened, but knowing how sad he is you don’t want to upset him even more.

Your eyes find him easily in the lush bathroom, sitting in the tub, and your heart shatters into a million pieces at the sight of him.

His hang hangs low, arms braced on his knees, hands folded, shoulders lifting with deep inhales. It hurts so much to see him like this, and your lower lip begins to quiver. Quickly, and no longer so silently you make your way over to him, sit down on the edge of the tub and place your hand on his shoulder.

He flinches a little, from surprise, and tips his head back. His eyes are red, but he‘s not crying anymore…

"What were you talking about earlier?" you ask softly and brush your hand along his shoulder. "I really don’t know. It was just a dinner with—"

"Didn’t you see all the videos? The photos he posted? Dinner with the most beautiful girl from all of Monaco."

You’re flabbergasted and left speechless for a moment. "I had no idea … and why … why would he do that? It was a meeting simply to discuss a piece of art he wanted to buy, as I told you. I … I‘m so sorry."

"And why did you sit so damn close to him? Any closer and you could have sat right on his lap—or his dick!" He throws his head back with a deep sigh, knocking it against your thigh and the tub wall.

Your hand is still on his shoulder, and you squeeze softly. "Don’t take all your anger out on me, it‘s not fair. I wasn’t sitting closer to him than to any other client. We needed to discuss art I showed him on my tablet, that‘s it. It was never my intention to hurt you."

Rolling his head to the side, he presses his cheek against your thigh. "It wasn’t fair, you’re right." His lips press softly against your skin. "But it feels like I‘m losing everything. Driving … it‘s like I no longer have the same control over the car like I onced used to have. And now … you."

"Lewis…" you whisper and kiss his forehead, lips just hovering above his skin as you continue, "you will never lose me. Never, do you hear me. The ring you put on my finger should always remind you of that." You kiss him once again.

"And driving … you‘ve been with Mercedes for over ten years. You adapted to the cars you drove, the engineer‘s instructions and explanations, now you’ve joined a new team and everything is different."

Lifting your hand, you brush your thumb over his cheek. "Lewis, it takes time. No star has ever fallen from the sky, and you will find your rhytm and get to know the car. Just give it time."

A soft, sad laugh slips thrpugh his lips. "You always know exactly what to say, huh?"

"I guess that comes from being married to the most intelligent man I‘ve ever met."

You lean in closer, but before you can continue, Lewis beats you to it. "I‘m sorry for what I said and I don’t want you to give me space. I want you close. Always, right by my side."

"I know." You stroke your thumb across his cheek again. "I will never leave your side."

So, this is my first time writing a one shot for this fandom and aah I‘m nervous🫨

[jiangwanyinscatmom]

I know you’ve been in this fandom for a long time, so do you know if the idea that everyone in MDZS is morally grey has always been so popular? If it hasn’t, do you know what made it so popular?

When I first read the books, I was surprised to see so many fans say that the point of the MDZS is that everyone is morally grey. Even though I can see the appeal, I find it really frustrating in discussions when we try to talk about a character’s morality and then people cut in to say everyone is morally grey and that no character is better or worse than the other morality-wise.

Good day anon!

This was always a thing once the novel came around to the western side (especially a very anime base at the time that got into it first) but it really started to be a "Thing" once CQL hit Netflix USA/CAN/UK.

CQL really leaned into simplifying/watering down everyone due to tonal shifts for censorship broadcasting. Being Wei Wuxian, mo dao/gui dao being merged, and the Yin Iron already existing and being sought after as a subplot early on by Wen Ruohan, who is now a mo dao cultivator and Xue Yang is his personal underling. Jin Guangyao also being an underling comes later as he was originally a servant of the Nies that betrays them. It makes it seem as though Jiang Cheng HAD been a loving brother and well intentioned man (romance subplot with Wen Qing) concerned about his family before he became jaded about Wei Wuxian's secrecy.

There's is a lot more about Wei Wuxian struggling with his loss of cultivation and turning to the Yin Iron/mo dao. His actions are vastly more questionable. He takes to alcoholism in his brooding and is said to be doing very little after the war. He uses the Wens as target practice for some reason to then help Wen Qing as he did originally. More emphasis is put on he did this not because he was morally disgusted with the clans hypocrisy but out of personal debt he owed to Wen Qing and gives an emotional speech to Lan Wangji that he would be honored to die by his hands, despite CQL naming Wen Qing's family as "the good Wens". Wen Qing herself also has a moral dilemma of doing dirty spy work for Wen Ruohan (The Wens are basically turned into the mo dao sect alright).

The issue with this all is that the clans themselves are basically absolved of their own corruption and the ramifications of their own classism, hypocrisy and how they weaponize the manipulation of reputations for; everyone is a little bad and has done bad things, even our hero. He cries about it, a lot, so does Lan Wangji.

And if there is one thing we know courtesy of Jin Guangyao, you cry enough and look pitiful enough ya can't be all that bad and there was always reason that makes me look sad and forced to do it!

[of-the-eclipse]

Yknow what, I'm actually coming back to this because it's been on my mind since I reblogged it yesterday. (Apologies to advance to you oomf for the upcoming rant/discussion)

I have always been hesitant to try and find "deeper meaning" in the ENA series, and in ENA as a character, because of how silly and weird it is most of the time (surreal for the sake of being surreal). Whenever I have thought of interpretations like this, like "both ENAs are probably autistic" or "the ENAs are just straight up experiencing racism/discrimination", I have felt kind of silly for it; I'm making something out of nothing.

But seeing this particular interpretation after others like it really does make me think, or at least hope, that there is an intention of grander symbolism.

Looking at it through this view (ena is trans, autistic, an immigrant) really makes me view the series in a different way, a way I have subconsciously always wanted to but felt silly for doing so. It makes me see a lot of characters and their interactions with ENA differently, especially Moony and Froggy as the deutertagonists to each Ena.

In my pondering on them, I have kind of come to interpret Froggy as one of those friends with good intentions, but comes across as ableist anyway. This is mostly in the beginning when he mentions several times how Ena "talks funny", and when explaining what her job is tries to phrase it "in way she can understand". Again, good intentions and trying to help, but it comes off as kind of demeaning. Moony is in a similar boat, though she is more directly rude. Its pretty clear to me that she still LIKES Ena, that's her friend! But she often makes Ena's emotional state worse or gets too impatient with her.

Also. The Enas being trans. Oh my god it makes so much sense and I feel a lot better about having it as a headcanon for both of them. I've always noticed how both Enas have their masculine voice as the more "tolerable"/positive side of her, but never thought of it as much beyond a coincidence. But it being tied to *expected gender roles* really just is an interpretation that blows my mind with how obvious it feels now. It really touches me in a way i can't explain, like "maybe I'm not crazy for drawing these parallels to myself (as both a trans and autistic experience)".

I can't think of much more to ramble on without getting nonsensical, maybe I'll reblog a continuation later, but I guess I just want to thank you?? For this interpretation?? I didn't even touch on the last sentence because I'm not sure if I'm reading it the way you intended. But it really did kind of touch me and has changed my view on ENA.

To sum it up: "wow, so i WASN'T weird for relating to Ena's experience in a trans autistic way (and for reading her treatment from others as racism)".

EDIT: I just realized I forgot to mention ANYTHING about the Purge Event... that entire section of the game has so much to it and makes me incredibly sad for ENA. The one npc here that especially discomforts me is that one guy on the ceiling i didn't know you could talk to, who says: "Come on; give me a smile. / You're bringing me down. / You're bringing us down." And Ena's entire thing she had going on during the party... i just don't know how to tie it back to the above themes. I'll ponder on this.

ENA (both iterations , but especially DBBQ) is very blatant surrealist representations of the absurd reality of being: some sort of autistic, transgender, immigrant , your existence is like some sort of implicated manifestation of your larger race, you are An Ena, you have different facets from yourself , the palatable ego and the less pleasant alter, both representations of the expected gender but also volatile and fragile stability of your mind under pressure to Perform, the servicial Ena, the demanding Ena, you struggle within your own individualism but the dualism is simply a Part of you you cant tear off without the risk of completely losing that body

[nightskylonging]

I rewatched the 4 BBY arc, here's some cinematic, costuming, and scene notes.

Cinematics:

That long shot of Mon walking out to Luthen is excellent! We get to see that lovely set, and we also get such a good look at how Mon is balancing everything.

An interesting set dressing detail from Krennic's conference: the two propaganda guys, Shambo and Ossar, are the only two who have empty glasses in front of them. I'm not sure if there's a reason there, but it is something.

Perrin and Sculden are framed in front of a circular doorframe, Kleya and Vel, Tay and Mon, are framed by vertical pillars for their conversations. Different topics, different shapes.

The quick cut with Syril's finger snap is great.

I'm a bit rusty on my visual language knowledge, but it's interesting to note that in episode two's crucial conversation between Tay and Mon, the camera is level with Mon, but it's very slightly above Tay's eyes. This should have the effect of making Tay look like the less powerful in the scene, but because of the implications he's making, that effect is lessened.

Set design note for Chandrila as a whole: those hexagonal mountain screens are beautiful.

I love the choice for straight-on, medium shorts for the dinner scene. It's so off-putting.

Very small parallel - we see the man in Bix's nightmare and rapist imp stop at the mirror.

There's a bit of a parallel right at the end of episode three with the third episode of season one. Cassian is leaving somewhere, the scene is silent and cut between two plots, but season one is emphasizing past and present, everything is warm-lit, the music is a more traditional score. Season two is cutting between distance, the lighting is cool, even on Chandrila, and obviously we've got the wedding remix of Niamos! overtop.

Costuming:

Tay's first costume has some truly excellent sleeves. Chandrilan clothing in general is good at this, but this outfit in particular is good.

I do not think it's a coincidence that in the Ghorman documentary footage, there's a pretty clear 1930s-1940s influence. I'll withhold further commentary until we see more of Ghorman.

I won't say anything definitively, but it sure looks like the propaganda guys are wearing wool suits. This doesn't have too much bearing on the story, but it does imply that they're well-off, and shows Michael Wilkinson and his team are putting in the work.

The Mina Rau costumes! Denim and corduroy and printed cotton! Seriously, some of this stuff would fit right in in old family photos, and that's a good thing. Brasso's denim jacket is either quilted or has a super basic sashiko embroidery technique, I didn't get a good look.

The beaded fabrics and elements for the episode two wedding dinner are so beautiful. Especially the white-on-white beaded fabric Leida's wearing (I suspect the costume department got actual bridal fabrics for some of Leida's costumes). Interestingly, it doesn't look like the Sculden family has any beaded elements on their clothes.

In the actual wedding ceremony, Leida's hands are trapped behind her veil. It's not really visible after she steps into the circle (when it looks like the veil might have been blown back), but intentional or not, that's some good visual storytelling there.

Again, the beadwork. That wedding dress, for all the heaviness attached to it, is beautiful. A shame it couldn't be in a truly joyous occasion.

General:

There's some parallels in the score titles. I like that.

The TIE set was real, but Diego Luna was still pulling faces at a green screen, I think. It's impressive work.

Ben Mendelsohn is doing remarkable body language acting.

800,000 Ghormans. What does this say about population numbers across the galaxy?

Everyone's mentioned the chilling mundanity of the conference members just helping themselves to snacks and drinks while discussing methods to eliminate a planet's population. Surely no real-world parallels to that...

All Leida wants is for Stekan to hold her hand. Because she's just a child too. (This scene was when I realized that Stekan and Leida are my kid brother's age. That was a gut punch.)

I tried to deconstruct why rapist imp set off warning bells right away. The filming is actually pretty standard - doing anything different would be too obvious and not match the tone - but the blocking has him constantly moving into Bix's space, and obviously his dialogue is setting off some alarms. Also, there's no background music, just foley.

Here's the thing about Perrin's speech. He's wrong. Joy is not ephemeral. It's not fleeting. Joy is deep and all abiding, and one can face hardship better for it. Perrin says to focus on the surface pleasures, missing the fact that it's braving pain that lets us move past it to better things.

The reveal that Cassian's been on Yavin IV this whole time is pretty clever.

The fact that Dedra manages to be the normal one at this dinner.

Kinderblock - ah. We're not hiding influences tonight, I see. (Ignoring the timeline confusion, because it's whatever.)

I suspect we'll see the guy Luthen was talking to - the man with the Ghorman mother - again.

I did not pick it up all the way the first time, but Luthen's definitely planning Tay's murder. And he has been for a minute, given that Cinta probably needed some time to come in from wherever she was.

The first thing my dad said upon comparing notes about this arc was that I should do what Bix did (that being beat anyone who tries anything with a hammer) if needs must. So.

At first I was a little off put by the rapid cuts between the wedding and the Mina Rau escape with the dance music, but I came around to it pretty quickly. There was a phrase that kept coming back to me - 'and the band played on'. Everything is happening, all at once, dancing and dying alike, and we don't always have the luxury of the 'right' tone.

This is the first time where I've watched something, and then come back a few days later and watched the whole thing again to take notes. There's just so much packed into these episodes, and I like it. We're mostly seeing dominoes fall, unlike season one where we got to see a lot of them set up. And I think that's the right choice. Now comes the time of action.

[seafoamreadings]

week of april 27th, 2025

these are written predominantly for the *rising* signs but they are also intuitively "channeled" enough that they should work for any dominant energy you have! (try your sun if you don't know rising, or more advanced readers can try moon, anywhere you have a stellium, etc and see what works best for you!)

aries: venus arrives back in your sign this week. she then almost immediately conjoins neptune. so these vibes are not very comfortable or familiar to you, but they are powerful and they give you insights into the magic and power of things the patriarchy has deemed frivolous. don't be fooled.

taurus: whatever you did on the new moon (just starting to wax again), there are changes and consequences in motion. you see the first sprouts of results, some of which may surprise you no matter how firm you were in your intentions, throughout this week as uranus, venus, and neptune, all are activated in ways that affect you. some of this is happening now but won't be known by you for some time.

gemini: a mercury-jupiter sextile this week is very good for you, especially in terms of finances and friendships. talk things out and don't be too miserly. is that preaching to the choir a bit? just a reminder that it's auspicious to be how you are.

cancerians: it's a good week for lunar passages so use this time to reset your nervous system if needed, and rest even if you're not feeling totally drained. you can move through life without wearing yourself all the way out.

leo: by and large the return of venus to aries after her recent retrograde is good news for you. you might wish to use this time to plan or embark on a long voyage, literally or otherwise, or to renew the vitality of your spiritual practice or philosophical outlook.

virgo: expect to feel karmic/nodal activity all week, especially the further in that we get. all actions have consequences and your body and nervous system feel the repercussions whether you consider them good or bad. make any needed apologies and amends, and nurture your body.

libra: your ruling planet of love and beauty venus returns to your seventh house of relationships and committed partnerships and then immediately conjoins neptune. this could look like some love-bombing, manipulation, or just a really pleasant time. enjoy what's enjoyable and don't count on too much sticking or meaning as much as it initially seems.

scorpio: your relationships may take several weird turns, and even if they are positive ones they may feel uncomfortable and tumultuous. furthermore your home life may begin to feel creaky and unstable; avoid moving anyone new into your home or changing up your dwelling, especially later in the week.

sagittarius: while fun and pleasure are likely to take center stage, treat escapist tendencies with some caution on the one hand, you need a good work life balance! on the other hand sometimes the "life" part gets a little out of control too.

capricorn: focus this week on making your home, or at minimum an area of it, a sanctuary for *you.* decorate and beautify it the way you want, and set it up to be functional for your daily needs without too much concern for anyone else (roommates, relatives, partners, potential partners....).

aquarius: uranian interactions with the nodes can have you feeling a little frazzled and really believing in magic. but you understand better than most how much of magic is just science we don't understand yet - harness the technology to the best of your ability.

pisces: venus heads out of your sign once again to retrace her steps from february and march so expect to revisit themes from then. while she's very venusian in your sign and less so in aries, in your second house she is blessing your finances and hopefully you get some good news materially.

watch the transit posts in real time to have the best guide through your week. want a little more? have a look at my patreon or ko-fi.

check out my etsy for a private reading or fill out this form to set up a reading through venmo, cashapp, or paypal.

[the-peak-legend-of-first-gen]

One thing I’ve seen a lot—and I mean a lot—is people wanting Jake to somehow end up cheating on his partner just because that’s what his dad did.

Come on, guys. What is this? The whole point of Jake’s character is that he’s trying to step out of Gapryong’s shadow and rise above it.

Sure, he got pulled into the gangster world, but the way he leads is very different from how his father did. As his mother said, Jake represents the good side of his father—and I believe he holds on to that. Yes, he was involved in that scam at the beginning, and there were plenty of moments where he wasn’t exactly your typical hero or “good guy.” But nowhere does the story hint that he would be a cheater.

About that club Vivi scene —okay, that was just him messing around with no serious intentions so that really doesn't add upto much.

If Jake falls in love, best believe he’ll treat his partner like a queen. Like royalty. And no, it won’t be a smooth ride—it’ll be filled with angst, especially because he’ll constantly worry about her safety. But if anything, he’d hurt himself before he ever hurt her.

As for cheating? Once he’s in love, I wholeheartedly believe he won’t even look in another direction. And let’s not forget—Sinu’s in the picture. He’s a positive representation of relationships, and honestly? Sinu would never let Jake live it down if he broke a woman’s heart.

[stoopkidlisteningtocsh]

You are so deeply privileged to feel this way. Western medicine and especially psychiatry were founded on non consenting patient experiments. And deep deep abelism. There are studies that people with anger issues and lack of understanding of others become doctors in america at high rates

Even the good ones are LEAVING because it is so corrupt. The good ones struggle to stay cause its just constantly watching the system kill and harm people.

Woman/afab people, poc, and plus size people are historically and constantly berated by the system because the system was founded on making them more socially acceptable or justifying locking them away from society. Do you remember the diagnosis of female hysteria? Do you know that gynecologist practices were founded on unconsenting slaves? Do you know we dont get any pain killers or prep before because that study said woman cant feel pain down there? Are you aware how many people cannot go to the doctor alone and need an advocate cause certain illness make doctors instantly think your drug seeking? Do you know that in many places you still need permission from your husband to get your tubes ties or uterus removed? And in some places you need to have multiple kids before doing it? Do you know most of the time when a doctor asks about a womans period theres no actual benefit to that expect knowing if they can blame it on hormones or possible pregnancy? Do you know that its 100% legal for doctors to do unrelated shit to you body when your knocked out for surgery, like showing students how to put in a cathider?

Telling someone to give doctors and nurses the benefit of the doubt is genuinely so fucking dangerous. I still go to doctor obviously and i currently have the best doctor ive ever had and i still do not trust her implicitly. I never will for my safety and health. Doctors even if they are trying to be good people, are still being taught outdated and harmful information. A doctor with 100% good intentions could still do something insanely harmful if you do not continue to advocate for yourself.

Its genuinely fucking insane for someone to here the horrific stories of american healthcare and go "but most of them are trying their best!" I dont care! Alot of doctors "best" are actively and badly harming people. I know alot of doctors are tired and struggling and yes the system is to blame. But there is objectively SO much more to this than just "oh my doctor took a long time to come in". No. I know theyre overworked but that dosent excuse a good amount of shit thats wrong. Like oh your so overworked you started doing lectures on unconsenting unconscious patients? Oh your so overworked you label every person in pain as a drug seeker? Well cool because you had a bad day i now will suffer with whatever the fuck you put on my record for the rest of my fucking life

If a doctor is genuinely good. They will understand that you dont trust them. I trust myself and what i feel and that is SO important for american healthcare. The fact that you posted this really shows youre unaware of just how fucking bad it can get. I havent even mentioned how evil dentists are! Or that compared to other countries our pap smears are borderline barbaric.

Imo this is just like saying "guys the cops themselves arnt bad its the system that teaches them to be that way" okay well the system made them bastards! And im going to call them that and be upset at the people harming others no matter what the system has done to make them think theyre the hero. I do not give a singular fuck about intention when it comes to literal life or death in many situations

"I can only speak for my country" i really REALLY hope your not american. And honestly if you arnt it just makes me what to tell you to shut up even more cause like. Okay yeah cool its awesome YOUR doctors arnt the enemy but most people with this perspective are american and have genuine reasons to think this way. The doctors are apart of the system so if the system is fucked than by extention the doctors are too. But to try and say to give them the benefit of the doubt when my medication that i need to live is in there hands, is insane

The negativity surrounding doctors

every now and then I make the mistake of reading comments online under posts that have even the tiniest thing to do with medicine

it’s always one and the same thing about how doctors are parasites and all they ever want is more money and how they don’t listen to patients and they’re all filthy rich and don’t get me started on the shit that antivaxxers still spew out

I can only speak for my country, but doctors are not the enemy. There’s plenty of asshole doctors, no doubt about it. But the vast, VAST majority are good natured people who genuinely give a shit about their patients and are doing their best in a system that only ever works against them.

So who should you really be upset with? Who is really to blame that the wait times are long and that your own pay is shit and that the doctor doesn’t have time to sit with you and listen to you properly without having to work overtime and/or keeping other patients waiting and/or miss out on time with their own family and life?

Some doctors are bad doctors, hell, some are even bad people. Though the bad ones were maybe good before they had to sacrifice a little bit more than they thought they would have to and turned bitter and exhausted when that sacrifice gave very little in return and was often sprinkled with ungratefulness, spite or even abuse.

Because the enemy here is the system. For both the doctor and the patient.

So if your doc is being an asshat and genuinely doing an objectively bad job at treating you, I’m really sorry about that and I hope you can get someone better.

But the majority of healthcare folks are really doing their best for you and have sacrificed a lot to be there and keep trying, even though the system keeps fucking them over.

[coupsctrl]

Overworked.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

GENRE:

fluff, overworked reader, emotional

WARNING(S):

mild swearing (out of frustration)

It has been a really hard few days for you. With the amount of schoolwork piled up, especially since exams are happening in a week. And your boss, who makes you work extra shifts, just to pay the same amount he does regularly, sometimes even less. You don't know how you even got through this week, well, you have one idea. Seungkwan. Ever since you started getting stressed about everything, he has been by your side since day 1. He always makes sure you have what you need, even if it's just some cuddles to get through the night. Like this night.

You both are sleeping in your shared apartment. Seungkwan's chest is against your back, with his arms wrapping around your stomach so protectively & tightly. You two cuddle every night, and you always feel so safe & warm in his tight embrace. But tonight, it's different. The stress has caught up to you, and you are finding yourself not even able to sleep. Your eyes are open, staring at the wall in front of you, as well as the slightly open room door which you can see some light through. After a while of laying in your own thoughts, you decide to quietly get up, feeling like even sleeping is hard to do right now.

You quietly shuffle in the bed, trying to get out of Seungkwan's firm embrace. You move one limb at time, it seeming impossible because of how his arms were draped heavily across you. You wiggle enough to slip one leg free out of the bed, making him murmur something unintelligible, but he doesn't wake. As you hold your breath, you gently slide your arm under his, finally escaping his cuddles.

2:03 am

You make your way into the kitchen, grabbing yourself a cold glass of water. Running your hands through your hair, you feel exhausted. Your eyes are drooping, and you unconsciously yawn as you look around. You walk over to the window in the living room, looking at the view of Seoul before you. Some street & building lights are still on, and you notice some cars whirring through the quiet streets. As you're stuck up into your own thoughts again, you hear a soft, quiet voice cut through. "Hey."

You turn your head, looking at a very tired & groggy Seungkwan. He runs his hand through his messy hair, trying to tame it as he walks closer. You suddenly feel guilty, "Did I wake you?"

He shakes his head, his voice gentle. "No, I woke up and realized you were gone." He studies your face, noticing the guilt and tiredness in your eyes.

"Sorry." Is all you can get out, turning back to the view out the window. Seungkwan shakes his head. "You don't have to apologize, Y/N. What's wrong?"

You turn to face him, looking up and noticing his worried expression. He reaches out and gently touches your arm, offering a piece of comfort to get you to open up. "I just...can't sleep and It's frustrating." you sigh, before continuing. "I...I had such a long day and-" As you speak, you feel yourself getting more & more choked up with emotion. Your vision suddenly gets blurry, and you notice your eyes filling with tears.

Seungkwan feels his heart squeeze at the sight of your tears. "Hey, hey." he softly says, reaching out to cup your face. "Take a deep breath."

You sigh, trying to steady yourself as you follow his instructions. Seungkwan watches you intently, noticing your shoulders visibly relaxing. "Good," he whispers, his thumb stroking your cheek in a slow, soft manner. "Now exhale."

You listen, exhaling slowly, as you look up at him. "There you go," he says, his voice gentle. "just breathe in and out. I'm here, I got you."

Just as you're about to finally settle, you feel guilt creep in, and a pit in your stomach. You look up at him, feeling sorry that he has to do this when he should be sleeping. "I'm sorry... you can go back to bed if you wa-"

"No." Seungkwan says firmly, his eyes focused on you. He shakes his head. "I'm not leaving you like this."

His determined tone and soft gaze makes you break down further. You look down, sniffling as you feel more & more tears falling from your eyes and onto the wooden floor. Seungkwan looks at you with an expression of concern. He tilts your head up so he can see you, his thumb gently wiping away a stray tear. He can tell that there's something more to what you said, something that's causing you distress. He takes your hand and moves you to sit down on the couch and he takes a seat beside you. "Talk to me." he says softly.

You take another deep breath, closing your eyes for a moment. When you open them, you look up at him, your eyes glossy from tears. "I..." you start, your voice barely above a whisper. "My boss has just been so fucking frustrating and I'm tired Seungkwan, so fucking tired." you finally manage to get out.

Seungkwan listens intently, his concern deepening as he hears the desperation and frustration in your voice. One of his thumbs continues to gently brush your cheek, to offer a gesture of comfort. "Tell me what happened." he encourages.

You sigh, feeling more confident to speak up. "He has just been giving me so much more tasks than usual and I feel like I can't catch a break. And I'm so grateful for you but I feel like I'm disappointing you because I haven't been able to spend time with you...a-and-"

His heart breaks and he shushes you. His eyes are locked on your face as he interrupts. "Hey, hey. You're not disappointing me, at all."

You close your eyes, another tear rolling down your cheek as you try to believe his words. But you can't. You open your eyes again, looking up at him. "But I am..." you whisper, your voice breaking. "I'm not giving you the time you deserve."

Seungkwan's heart clenches at the look of your face, seeing the guilt in your expression. He moves closer to you on the couch, his hands gripping your shoulders gently. "Hey," he says firmly. "look at me."

You lift your head, meeting his gaze with your glossy eyes filled with tears. His expression is serious, but still gentle. "You're not disappointing me, Y/N, stop saying that. I want you to be at your best, especially at work. You're still so young, please stop being so hard on yourself."

You nod, wiping a tear. "But what about us?" you ask, your voice small. "I feel like I'm not enough for you."

He sighs, shaking his head as his grip on your shoulders tighten slightly. "You don't owe me anything. I don't want you to feel pressured to give me anything. I'm so happy, Y/N. And I want you to be happy too."

You nod again, trying to believe his words. But the guilt and frustration you carry still linger. You try to open your mouth to speak, but you stop yourself, biting your lip instead. Seungkwan notices the hesitation in your expression, the lingering tension still in the air. He squeezes your shoulders gently, giving a silent encouragement. "What is it?" he asks, his eyes never leaving yours.

"I-its just..." you start, your voice getting quieter as your eyes drop to your lap. "What if.... you'll stop loving me?"

He freezes at your words, his eyes widening in surprise. "What? No." he says firmly, his voice stern. "How could you ever think that?" He notices how you're still looking down at your lap, your expression looking drained and even more guilty than before, and his heart breaks. He turns you gently, so now you're facing him completely. "Look at me."

You slowly raise your gaze to meet his. You feel the weight of his gaze, how he doesn't loose focus for a second. "I love you." he starts, his voice rough. "There hasn't been one moment that I've stopped loving you. You, Y/N," he grabs both of your hands and collects them with his. "are the sole reason I try so hard everyday. Whenever I'm at work, you're the only person I think about, and want to return home to. It's not about the time we spend together, it's about the quality of the time we have together."

He cups your face, his thumbs stroking your cheeks. "I fell for you for who you are, not about the amount of time we'll spend together. And I plan on loving you, until the very end. No matter how much time we spend together, or how much we don't."

Your eyes well up with tears, incredibly touched by his words and reassuring tone. "Promise?" you whisper, your voice trembling.

He smiles softly. "I promise." he whispers back, resting his forehead against yours. "You're stuck with me"

[oliversrarebooks]

The Rare Bookseller Part 94: Oliver's Protection

Previous > Masterlist

tw: mind control, self harm

"I want training, too, sirs!" Oliver blurted out. Everyone turned to look at him quizzically.

"Oliver, I appreciate that you want to help, but you can't even walk right now, much less --"

"I know, sir, and I don't expect to be trained as a hunter. But if I could help with the magic, perhaps…" His hands twisted the fabric of his pants. "I would at least like to know how to carve the protective rune, the one Vivian uses. Just in case your sire…"

Just in case there came a time where Alexander couldn't protect Oliver from his sire, a true emergency where a moment of lucidity might make a difference. He didn't dare say it, as it seemed disrespectful to point out the possibility that his master might fail. Any protection offered by the rune would only shield Oliver briefly at best. Still, the thought of having this tool in his arsenal made him feel slightly better, as though he wasn't a complete sitting duck. He looked up at his master, pleading with his eyes.

But his master was scowling. "Absolutely not."

Oliver realized how his request must have sounded, like he was looking for a way to prevent himself from being enthralled by Alexander himself, when that hadn't been his intention at all. He shrank away, embarrassed.

Before he could try to explain himself, Miss Lily chimed in. "Why not? I don't see the harm in it. Wouldn't it be good for him to have some emergency protection against other vampires, especially your sire?"

"That was what I was thinking, sir," said Oliver, eagerly agreeing. "I didn't mean anything against you at all."

Alexander softened. "I'm sure you didn't, but still…" His arms gripped Oliver a little tighter. "I can't bear the thought of being unable to enthrall you, even temporarily, even as a test for your own protection."

"You wouldn't have to test the protection. I could do it," said Miss Lily. "Why don't we chat for a bit while my Vivian gives Oliver a lesson? If he can successfully gain the protection, I can do my best to enthrall him." She stroked Vivian's hair. "If you're willing to play nicely with my declawed hunter, then surely Oliver gaining a little of her knowledge isn't a threat."

"I know Oliver isn't a threat, it's just…" Alexander sighed. "Fine. I suppose you do make a good point, that it could provide him some desperate option in a worst-case scenario. As much as I detest the idea of Oliver being out of my reach, I also detest the idea of my sire puppeting him to his whims. I suppose it wouldn't do any harm for him to learn, just as long as he never tries to use it against me."

"No, never, sir," said Oliver emphatically. "I wouldn't dream of it."

"You say that, but… Well, I suppose I owe you a bit of trust, considering how much trust I ask of you. Especially considering I have failed to protect you on multiple occasions. Very well, learn the protective rune, and let Lily test if it worked."

"Thank you, sir." Oliver hoped that his master wasn't upset by his request. He just felt so utterly helpless in the face of their risky plan to kill the Maestro, and having even a small bit of knowledge would help ease his mind.

With that decided, Alexander and Lily moved to a couch nearer the fireplace (but still well in view of the thralls), and Oliver settled next to Vivian as she pulled a thick book from her bag and placed it on the table. Up close, Oliver could see that it was practically falling apart from use, dog-eared and marked everywhere with notes. She flipped it to a page showing instructions for how to carve a particular rune.

"This is the book on witchcraft and hunting that's been passed down in my family for generations. It's all I have left of my mother, so please be careful with it," she said.

"Of course. I would never mistreat a book, even if it weren't so precious as that."

"It might be easiest if you read these few pages first, to get an idea about how the rune works. I've never taught anyone, so I'm probably poor at explaining things."

"That's fine with me. I learn best by reading anyway." Oliver began reading over the descriptions of each portion of the rune and what it represented. He found he was growing a bit excited about the prospect of doing magic, real magic, instead of having all of the supernatural happenings done to him. Perhaps if this went well, he could convince Vivian to teach him more.

Nonetheless, he couldn't help but be distracted by his master's quiet chat with Miss Lily.

"I'm surprised that you're okay with this plan," said Alexander. "I would have assumed you'd be dead set against anything so risky as this. If you're thinking of sabotaging this for my own good, I swear --"

"No. Nothing like that." Miss Lily leaned back into the couch. "And I still do think this plan is risky, but I hardly have a choice but to allow you to do it, unless I can think of something better."

"I can guess what's caused the sudden change of heart. Or rather, who has caused the sudden change of heart. You really have become attached to that hunter, haven't you?"

Miss Lily waved him off. "Yes, yes, feel free to say 'I told you so' all you want. You have me dead to rights. I couldn't stand the thought of our sire getting his hands on Vivian. Happy?"

Alexander chuckled. "It is a bit gratifying to see you getting so attached after you've admonished me so much," he said. "But all joking aside, I think you needed this. I could tell how you haven't truly been yourself since Miriam was… compromised. You lacked a thrall that was wholly your own."

"I didn't want to think I needed it so badly," she said. "I think maybe that's part of why I was so insistent on foisting Oliver on you. I could tell that you were perfect for each other, and I thought at least you should have the indulgence I was denying myself."

"Well, I certainly don't mind that you did. I was upset at first, but you were right. Oliver is perfect, and I'm glad to have him."

Oliver stared down more intently at the book, cheeks burning from the praise. It was still so strange and wonderful to be so wanted. He forced himself to focus on what he was reading and tune out his master's conversation.

Once he had finished, and Vivian had gone over the material with him -- then came the moment when the discussion turned from the academic to the practical. Oliver had put out of his mind the fact that this rune would need to be carved into his skin, and felt a bit dizzy as Vivian produced her silver knife.

"I recommend first drawing or painting it on your skin. You certainly don't want to make mistakes when you're handling the knife."

"I certainly don't." Oliver rolled down his left sleeve and kept his hand as steady as possible as he took up his fountain pen and drew the rune on the meat of his forearm, exactly as it was in the diagram, taking care not to scratch himself prematurely.

Vivian looked on approvingly. "You're a natural. That looks exactly right. You've even properly drawn the character at the 3 o'clock point -- that one often trips people up." She unsheathed the knife, turning it around and handing it to him. "Now you know what you have to do. Make sure it's cut in the correct order. Shallow cuts, just barely breaking the skin. I don't think your master would appreciate it if you waste too much of your blood."

Oliver glanced up at Alexander, who had ceased chatting with Miss Lily and was now staring right at him, giving him a small nod that seemed to indicate that Oliver should proceed. "I can make it painless, if you'd like," Alexander said.

"No, sir, if I truly need to use this, then --" He didn't want to say it out loud, to invoke the possibility that his master might not be there to defend him. "I wish to be able to do it on my own, if you please, sir."

"If you're going to do this at all, then I suppose that seems the most sensible."

"You can do it," said Vivian. "Just a little scratch, and it will be over soon enough."

Oliver gathered his courage and pressed the tip of his knife to one of the lines he'd drawn on his skin. The knife was razor sharp, and it didn't take much pressure at all for a bead of blood to well up under the point.

"That's it," Vivian encouraged. "No deeper than that. Just enough to draw blood. And don't forget to speak the words we rehearsed."

"Right." He almost considered calling it off, saying it was a mistake for him to want to learn to defend himself in this way, but some stubborn part of him refused. He was safe here in the library, with his master nearby, and Vivian had thoughtfully laid out some bandages. There wouldn't be a better time to try this.

He took one more deep breath and began to scratch the rune into his skin, as quickly as possible without sacrificing accuracy, trying to ignore the pain. Tears welled up in his eyes as he spoke the words, blood dripping down his arm and onto the table in front of him. When he had finished carving the symbol, he felt a kind of warmth from the self-inflicted wound, a strange tingling sensation.

"I think it took, at least a little bit. Well done," said Vivian. "These bandages are coated with a powder that hides the smell of blood. Otherwise, the vampires will be able to smell you out from miles around."

Indeed, Alexander was looking at Oliver like a man possessed, and Oliver knew that his master would be taking a meal after Miss Lily and Vivian went home. Miss Lily seemed affected as well, staring at Oliver as he bandaged the wound.

"Well, let's see if it worked, then," said Miss Lily, sauntering over to sit next to Oliver on the couch. "You're such a delightfully susceptible thrall. Let's see if a bit of magic can truly make you immune to my voice."

"All right, sir."

Miss Lily gripped his chin, directing his eyes straight into hers. "Relax, dear, relax and slip under my control. You won't be able to resist."

And the rune on Oliver's arm burned.

He pulled away from Miss Lily, not hypnotized in the slightest, but nonetheless incapacitated by the blinding pain from his arm. Seething, he curled up into a ball, trying to calm himself down from the pain.

"It's okay, Oliver, you're doing well," said Vivian, rubbing his back.

Before Oliver could respond, Alexander had snatched him up, holding him in a bridal carry. "Are you all right?" he said. "I knew this was a bad idea."

"It's fine, sir!" Vivian protested. "The brand is meant to hurt. That's part of how it protects you from hypnosis. It'll be the same for you, when you've devised the modified rune, I would think."

"You should put him down, Lex," said Miss Lily. "He wants to test it, don't you, Oliver?"

"Yes, sir," he said through gritted teeth. There was little point in exposing himself to this pain if he didn't gain some knowledge from it.

"Fine, but I will be comforting him once you're done," said Alexander, as he begrudgingly set Oliver back down.

"Are you ready, Oliver?" asked Miss Lily.

He nodded, trying to look determined.

"Then focus, dear. Focus on my voice and allow it to relax you. Focus only on me, and become so sleepy, so very sleepy…"

Oliver could feel the influence tugging at his mind, even through the pain, but the rune was keeping him awake and alert. "I think it's working, sir."

"Is that so? Then do something else for me." She reached out and pressed a hand to his forehead. "Quiet, Oliver. Just be oh so quiet for me."

It was Miss Lily's trigger that she'd implanted in him back at the auction house, and despite everything he'd been through, it still had a hook in his mind. He struggled against the sensation of his thoughts slowing and grinding to a halt, trying to resist the growing urge towards obedience. And all the while, the brand on his arm burned so strongly that it was starting to feel numb and cold.

"Come here, Oliver," said Miss Lily, opening her arms to him, and it felt magnetized, like he was being drawn in regardless of his own will. But even through the growing haze and the pain, he remembered he was meant to be resisting.

"No," he said in a strangled voice, backing away into Vivian, who was behind him.

"No? You don't want to rest in my arms?" Miss Lily said teasingly.

The rune carved into his arm felt like pins and needles, compelling him to resist the influence on his mind even as Miss Lily's voice coaxed him to let his guard down. Without thinking, he stood up to get away from her, until a sharp pain in his knee forced him to remember why that was a bad idea. He half-collapsed onto the table as his master rushed to his side once more and picked him up.

"That's enough of this," said Alexander, holding Oliver in an iron grip. "You've caused my thrall quite enough distress for one day."

"I wanted to try, sir. It was my decision," Oliver pointed out.

"And he did great! He was able to resist Miss Lily, at least for a few moments," said Vivian. "He achieved at least some protection on the first try. I had a feeling he would have a natural aptitude for magic."

Oliver's pride at this was dampened by the disapproving look on his master's face. "That may be," said Alexander, "but that doesn't make magic any less dangerous. I'd prefer to keep my thrall out of such things, if you don't mind." He sat Oliver down on a chair by the fireplace and fussed with his bandaged arm.

Oliver couldn't help but feel a small sting. Having a natural aptitude for magic was exciting, something he didn't know before, a skill he could cultivate to be useful. The way his master shut it all down was…

"I suppose I had better not try to take your pain away, lest I cause you more," said Alexander, staring at the bandages as though the rune were carved to offend him personally.

"There isn't much pain, sir," said Oliver, and indeed, it had subsided since Miss Lily had stopped her attempt to enthrall him. "Thank you for allowing me to try."

"You're welcome." Alexander sighed, the bad mood seeming to bleed out of him now that Oliver was once more in arm's reach. "And I suppose some emergency protection doesn't hurt, but no more magic than that, all right?"

Vivian leaned forward. "But sir, I think Oliver would be adept at healing magics, which could --" The withering stare from Alexander caused her to shrink back into her seat, surprisingly meek. "I suppose you know best for your thrall, sir."

"That I do," said Alexander. "And once I complete this plan to dispose of my sire once and for all, I'll truly be worthy of the title of master."

Previous > Masterlist

I'm sure this won't have any relevance later. Thanks for reading.

Next week, Fitzwilliam attends the Maestro's ball and meets his former master, Alexander.

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