#like driving with impaired vision

[snekkythegreat]

Does anyone have a complete list of all the crimes Arthur has committed because if not I will make one

[senseiwu]

YES YES YES YES

People seem to think vision is just "good" "fixed with glasses" or "nothing". It's so freaking annoying!!!! "You're blind? 🤨 but you use a phone."

Newsflash, for one: there's a whole freaking "ACCESSIBILITY MENU" in phones' settings so blind people of varying degrees, INCLUDING TOTALLY BLIND, can use them.

Some peoples' vision is worse at night.

Some people have dark spots in their vision. Or they only have a pinprick.

Or you're totally blind in one eye and have crappy vision in the other.

We're all under the term "blind".

i don't think people take me too serious when i say i'm legally blind. Like, guys I am legally never allowed to drive, I need assistance with a lot of stuff because I can't see. People both irl and online tend to be like "oh but you're not THAT BAD OFF" it's not a thing of whether my eyes are "that bad off" it doesn't matter, they're still blind. i still use magnifying and screen readers. i'm learning braille because my eyes are getting progressively worse and I'd like to be able to still read.

I may not be totally blind, but that's the thing, a lot of blind people AREN'T Totally blind. Blindness is a spectrum. and i don't think a lot of people realize that. And I'm just as valid in my blindness as someone on the spectrum with better eyesight than me, or someone with worse.

(This is OK to reblog. I hope that sighted people who might read this really get it into their heads that blindness is a spectrum...)

[stephaniedola]

the older i get the more often i encounter situations where someone makes a joke or points something out that I don't get because I don't struggle to differentiate between letters and whatever blurry thing they were seeing is probably funny but I wouldn't know

[miserye]

there's this funny thing i noticed in my classes where one of my professors and one of my classmates and I have similar vision problems (i assume) so we wear our glasses only occasionally and they always come out around the same time i start needed mine and take mine out and it makes me laugh because i think we all know

[pauputoot]

reblog not for a “bigger sample size” but because polls like this are a fun way to help people reinforce their own self-concept and passing it along so that other people can also have the opportunity to strengthen their sense of self by pressing a button is a cool and nice thing to do

[doll3tt33]

Everybody knows I’m a good girl, officer ♡

(colin zabel x under arrest!reader)

Summary: once again, you find yourself being arrested by Colin, adding to his piling stress from an unsolved case. However, you discover that a tiny favor for the detective might bring him some much needed cheer…

Wordcount: 5.7k

Warnings: oral sex (m receiving), car sex, coaxing, reader is under the influence of alcohol, brief mention of a bar fight, aggressive and rude reader, rly vague implied age gap, technically abuse of authority (it’s obvious, but I’m still putting it out there. I advise not to read if any of this makes you uncomfortable)

A/N: sorry for the major inactivity guys, I’ve been busy! And this fic ended up being longer than I expected, but I hope it’s good enough quality. My first ever smut, so hope u guys enjoy <3 (also sorry if any typos btw T^T)

You stood motionless, reeling from the adrenaline coursing through your veins as the alcohol's effects faded. The rush of emotion receded to an eerie calm. As your vision adjusted in the dim light, the scene came into focus - onlookers surrounded you and a woman now being helped from the floor. Through the buzz still clouding your mind, one detail emerged with painful clarity: her bruised and bloodied face, a stark reminder of the harm just caused in a moment of impaired impulse and from your god awful temper.

Now the woman who you beaten black and blue, almost to the point of passing out, wasn't the focal point for dispelling the haze of your impulsive rage. Nah, this lady had it coming when she slut shamed you for being oh-so-bold enough to wear a tank top tonight. No, it was the bright flashing hues of blue and red seeping through the windows that acted as your wakeup call.

Just like that, a realization hit with sobering clarity - “Shit. Cops.” Without pause, you shoved through the crowd, desperation driving every move. Bursting through the door, the frigid night air raised goosebumps across your skin. Damnit, maybe the tank top wasn’t the best choice after all. Intoxicated or not, you were in no shape for an arrest. Stumbling at first, you found your footing and picked up speed, putting distance between yourself and the scene of the incident you started. You were gonna make it through! You were gonna outrun those pigs and they would never get their grubby hands onto you!

…That was until, a loathsome voice sounded from behind.

“Hey- hey! Where do you think you’re going?”

Before you knew it, you felt hands locked around your arms, yanking you to a halt. The telltale jingle of metal broke through your panic and with a sharp click, cold steel encircled your wrists. A glance back confirmed your dread. You weren’t being handcuffed by just any stinking cop - it was that good for nothing detective Colin Zabel arresting you once more, and for what, the third time this week? That’s one hell of a streak.

You sighed inwardly, the fight draining from your limbs, knowing any attempt in resisting would be in vain. “Goddammit Zabel, can’t you give it a rest?…” you muttered under your breath, as he hauled you back to the police car.

"I know, I know - save your excuses," Colin cut you off wearily, the smile not reaching his eyes. “Jus’… don’t start, ‘Kay? Do me a solid and quietly get in the car.” He opened the car door to the backseat, gesturing for you to step inside. Despite his perpetual mask of affability, you detected an edge of irritation - his good humor and patience clearly worn down by your repeated encounters.

“Whatever man…” you sighed as the door clamped shut with finality. Through the window you watched Colin slip into the driver's seat, releasing a long exhale as if to shed the stress of your latest encounter. At least you provided some diversion from his endless paperwork, though you doubted he'd admit as much.

True to his by-the-book nature, he slinked the seatbelt over himself, securing it with an assured click. Out of habit, he craned his neck over his shoulder, asking out of the goodwill of his heart. “Oh! Almost forgot. Do ya need a lil’ hand with fastening your seatbelt too?“ he offered warmly, “Don’t want any extra accidents happening tonight, am I right or am I right?” A hearty chuckle followed, dying abruptly once he took in your expression - eyes hooded and mouth set in a grim line.

“Fuck off Zabel.” you growled in response, fixing your stare out the window. He felt tension coil in his gut but forced it down with a hard gulp. As a veteran officer, he had faced far worse than you, yet something about your unpredictable defiance unsettled him. For a moment, under your glare, an angry retort rose to his lips but he bit it back, sensing it would only stoke the flames. Best to let the dust settle, he decided. Starting the car, he pointedly kept his eyes forward and drove in loaded silence.

“Alriiiighty then, no seatbelt it is. I’m just gonna… ah- y’know….” He cleared his throat, voice petering off into a nonsensical mumble as he shifted gears.

An uncomfortable hush fell over the car, only the revving of the engine permeating the stillness. Colin tapped the wheel, wishing for a distraction from the tension. His mind raced through possible conversation starters but came up blank. A stolen glance in the mirror found your stony profile unchanged. With a sigh, he focused back to the road, flicking on the radio more for the static noise than any musical preference.

Colin hummed softly to fill the silence, earning another kick from the backseat - your fourth such outburst. He was the pinnacle of what it meant to be a pushover, but he still stood his ground when needed to… in his own unique way. “H-Hey, Cut it out kid! And be nice,” he let out a weary sigh, peeking up at your vexed form through the rearview mirror “You know, I’m not a fan of this attitude you’ve got going on. Haven’t been for the past week.”

You sank lower into the seat, glowering. “First of all, old man, lay off the ‘kid’ crap. I’m not a child.” You rolled your eyes at his feeble attempt at reprimand.

Colin bit back another retort, clenching his jaw. Pride demanded he have the last word, if only to reclaim a shred of dignity in his own vehicle. “Hm no, I think I’ll call you a kid. ‘Cause you know why? You’re acting like one, like right now.” he replied evenly, bubbling frustration leaking through his amicable veneer, yet he still maintained some semblance of civility between him and your not-so-good of a temper.

As you drew your breath to speak, Colin beat you to it. “Look- all I’m sayin’ is, this isn’t good for you. This is the third time this week I’m haulin’ you in here. The third time!” Weariness tinged his laughter as he splayed his fingers out in front of him, only to reclaim the steering wheel in a swift motion. “Not only is this not doing you any favors kid—-“

“I said don’t call me kid.” You interjected sharply, cutting him off this time.

Colin continued on autopilot, fatigue chipping away at his usual cheer. “It's also not doing me any favors either. I've got a case to crack, but Mare - my partner - thought it’d be best if I dealt with you while she took charge of the investigation for the night…”

His shoulders slumped, eyes downcast as a cloud of disappointment settled in. As a county detective, he longed to prove himself with this investigation, not play referee to petty disputes. But saying no had never come easy, especially when others mistook his calm demeanor as weakness.

Silently, your eyes veered away from the passing scenery outside the car window, finally taking notice of his careworn features in the mirror. Attuned to the new lines of fatigue etched upon his face, you perhaps began to understand that this was wearing him too.

“Must suck being everyone’s errand boy.” You observed, tone lacking its usual bite.

Colin offered a tired nod. “Comes with the job, I guess…” his words trailed off, accompanied by a somber tone as his gaze returned to the road. “But y’know what they say- it is what it is.” he added softly, punctuating the statement with a self deprecating laugh.

Surprisingly, a twinge of sympathy tugged at your heart - a rare reaction to the shithead county detective. For all his attempts at camaraderie, which admittedly grated, you had to respect his resilience in the face of your unrelenting hostility. Hell, that time you clocked him during arrest, most would've thrown the book - but not Colin. His patience and optimism seemed a superpower, weathering your worst without breaking stride.

A strange blend of sympathy and guilt surged through you, as the realization struck you hard like a freight train - you had subjected the poor detective to a relentless barrage of undeserved hardship, oblivious to the weight of his personal burdens. Your chest tightened, and a foreign sensation stirred deep within as the reflection in the rearview mirror held your gaze captive.

The need for redemption gnawed at your conscience, but how could you possibly make things right? You've been a real pain in the ass to him for a good while now. Within the depths of your alcohol-induced haze, a daring idea began to take shape - could you perhaps make amends through a little bit of... shared pleasure?

It was pure insanity. Drunken impulses (and drunken you) are the epitome of idiocy. Vivid images flooded your thoughts, projecting the sheer horror that would contort his face if you dared to make a move now. It was likely that he hadn't experienced the touch of a woman in quite some time. And yet, that was precisely the point. The poor guy may have been deprived of any intimate encounters since his fiancée abruptly left him, and the growing urge within compelled you to do something about it.

Undeterred, an unwavering determination fueled your decision to make a bold move and test the waters. Shattering the silence, you adopted an uncharacteristically sweet tone to conceal your true intentions. "Hey Colin, think I could sit up front? It's kinda cramped back here."

Colin glanced over, clearly skeptical of your politeness given past rides. "Not sure that's protocol..." he began, ever the rule-follower.

Your lips formed a slight pout, an innocent plea. "Aw c’mon, I'm starting to feel queasy. Just to the station, what's the harm?"

“Uhh….”

Colin's head snapped in your direction, his eyes narrowing as he scrutinized your expression. Despite his suspicion, a flicker of genuine concern crossed his face. The thought of you unleashing your 'gastric distress' all over his car seemed to be a genuine fear he really wanted to avoid. He did not need an extra pukefest tonight.

Reluctantly, he caved in to your request, his voice colored with a mix of resignation and caution. "Ah, jeez... Look, you're not supposed to sit in the front, but fine, I'll make an exception this time." He maneuvered the car to the side of the road, stepping out to open the door for you. As you settled into the passenger seat, he retook his place beside you.

"Jus' promise me you won't end up throwing up in the car, 'cause I'm not looking forward to cleaning up that mess." With a playful smirk, he wagged his finger at you, but there was an underlying seriousness to his words.

"Chillaaaax, Colin. Don’t even worry, you won't see me hurling tonight. I've got it all under control," you declared, gracing him with a reassuring smile. The unexpected warmth of your expression caught him off guard, contrasting sharply with your usual snarky demeanor and the piercing death stares he had grown accustomed to.

However, Colin’s initial reservations melted away, reciprocating the gesture as a warm smile played across his face. He resumed his position behind the wheel, ready to continue the drive. But just as he was about to press the gas pedal, you captured the moment and took action. It was officially reckless business o’ clock. You sank down from the car seat, your knees grazing along the surface as you shifted toward the detective.

Colin's eyes widened comically, his mouth agape, utterly taken aback by this unexpected turn of events. "K-Kid, what on earth are you—"

Cutting him off, your slurred words emerged with a hushed urgency. "Shush. And I told you not to call me kid. Just wait, let me..."

Your words trailed off as you grappled with the cramped space of the car. Hindered by the handcuffs that still restricted your movement, you struggled to find a way to support yourself without the use of your arms. Nonetheless, you persevered, inching your way beneath the steering wheel and between Colin's legs.

You released a sigh of relief as you settled comfortably onto your knees. “Phew! Crawling around is no walk in the park without some arms. Anyways...”

“Hi.” An impish grin spread across your face, your eyes flickering upwards, locking with his apprehensive gaze.

“Wow hi, haha!“ his smile, already awkward, stiffened further as he involuntarily sunk deeper into the car seat, attempting to create as much distance as possible between the two of you. “So um… is everything okay? I mean, what’s happening right now? What are you… doin’ down there, specifically?” His words tumbled out, laden with confusion and a touch of concern.

“What do you think I’m doing?” you giggled, thoroughly amused by the sight of the detective squirming uneasily in his seat. A delicate flush of pink tinted his cheeks, a detail that didn't escape your notice. Your voice dropped into a low purr as you continued, relishing in the tension that swirled between you. “Weeeell... I had this little thought, you see. I wanted to make amends. You know, for being such a pain to you over the past few weeks."

A coy little shrug followed your words, as if you were merely toying with the idea. “And I figured, what better way than to help my favorite detective relieve summa his stress off his shoulders.”

You awaited his response with a wide grin, but all that greeted you was a dumbfounded Colin, his face now aflame with a deep shade of crimson blush, eyes wide and unblinking. The sound of his breathing, short and heavy, filled the tense silence, leaving you to wonder if perhaps you had made him uncomfortable. Although a certain part of his body seemed to betray a different sentiment, stiffened and undeniable.

As both of your gazes inadvertently dropped, your eyes locked onto a conspicuous tent forming beneath Colin's slacks. A mix of surprise and amusement flickered across your face, mirrored by the silent murmuring of the word 'crap' that escaped his lips. “Hah… that’s uh- real strange. Don’t know why that’s happening,” He gulped. “Good ol’ keys in the pocket, huh? They’re a pain, especially when they decide to stick out in weird angles. It's like, whoa, things can get a little… funny, you know? Awkward, even.” He added, his voice revealing a hint of panic as he desperately attempted to maintain his composure, all while his raging boner was in plain sight.

“Oh for god’s sake,” you groaned, impatience tracing a light furrow on your brow as the restraint of the handcuffs exacerbated your frustration. "You're not seriously trying to play dumb with me, are you?" You said, annoyance and amusement bleeding through your words. The power dynamics had shifted, leaving you unable to take the lead, and instead relying on the nervous wreck of a detective before you.

You closed your eyes for a brief moment, taking in a deep breath to steady fraying nerves. Determined to take a gentler approach, you decided to navigate this delicate situation with care.

"Come on, Col..." you cooed, leaning forward as far as you could, resting your head gently on his thigh. Your voice took on a soft, persuasive tone. "Let me do this for you." With a subtle flutter of your lashes, you batted your eyes, mimicking the innocent charm of a puppy seeking its owner's attention. Colin flinched, his knees threatening to buckle under the weight of your sudden touch. Yet, he remained motionless, his eyes fixed upon you in mounting suspense.

A smile curled upon your lips as you sensed his lack of immediate resistance, emboldening you to press forward with your gentle coercion. "Just once," you whispered, your voice filled with earnestness. "Let me do this once, and I promise you'll feel so much better afterward."

“..Jesus, I don’t know ‘bout this… I….” Colin mumbled, trailing off with a heavy uncertainty.

He sat frozen in place, his chest rising and falling with each heavy breath. His bottom lip bore the marks of his nervous chewing, while his brows knitted together in a hesitant frown as he weighed his options.

He knew he shouldn't, he reaaaally should not. It was morally wrong, a breach of professionalism, and could jeopardize his career if discovered. His eyes darted frantically outside the car's windows, scanning the desolate darkness that enveloped the streets in secrecy. But technically, no one would find out, would they?

And god, it had been a long while since he had been with a woman, especially since the bitter end of his engagement. And there you were right now, on your knees, your eagerness to please him palpable. Just the sight of you pouting sent his stomach into a frenzy of uncontrollable flutters, a reaction unexpected even from someone with a volatile temper like yours.

Bewitched by your feminine wiles, he barely registered how his hand had crept onto the top of your head, his thumb caressing your scalp with a tender touch. The throbbing heat in his pants intensified, overpowering any remaining restraint. With cautious swiftness, he glanced around, scanning the surroundings for any prying eyes, before his gaze settled back on your face - your smile, a comforting anchor in the sea of his conflicting emotions.

He sucked in a sharp breath through clenched teeth, his voice barely rising above a whisper. "F-Fine... Jus’ promise me you won't breathe a word of this to anyone, alright?" His hands returned to himself, fingers trembling as he loosened the clasp of his belt. The once ironclad resolve that had held him together began to crumble like fragile dust, succumbing to the pull of the moment.

“You have my word Col.” you reassured, your voice a soft murmur teeming with exhilaration.

Colin proceeded to undo his pants, the sound of the zipper echoing through the confined space. As he shoved them down, the dim glow of a distant streetlight seeped through the car window, casting a faint illumination on the scene. You couldn’t see all that clearly in the dark, but you did catch a glimpse of the outline of his cock protruding beneath his boxers, the fabric adorned with a telltale wet spot. Needless to say, he was far more excited than he was letting on.

Your mouth watered in anticipation, your core aching with need. Your senses heightened, thighs instinctively clenching as you awaited his next move. But just as Colin's thumb looped under his waistband, he hesitated, uncertainty settling over him like an icy veil. Restraints confined your hands, the itch of frustration crawling beneath your skin. In this moment, the immobility of your arms felt like a punishment far worse than being thrown into a holding cell later that night.

Unable to physically intervene, you relied on the power of your voice to guide the hesitant detective. "It's alright," you coaxed, tone laced with soothing encouragement. "Shake those nerves off, just this once. No one will ever find out..."

Colin's response came in the form of a hesitant nod - quick, uncertain, but nevertheless a nod. With painstaking slowness, he mustered the courage to give his boxers a small tug, gradually lowering them at an agonizingly slow pace. The measured movements seemed almost teasing, as if he were intentionally prolonging the moment. However, the truth was he basically personified a bundle of nerves, as though he was a schoolboy experiencing the thrill of his first make out session, unsure and skittish in his actions.

"How about we ditch these stupid handcuffs and let me take charge?" you suggested, your tone cutting through the air with an assertiveness that bordered on demand. Colin's head snapped up, surprise briefly shadowing his features as he registered the sudden shift in your demeanor and the scowl that tugged your lips. He couldn't entirely fault you for your impatience - he had been taking his sweet time with dropping his boxers. However, a part of him harbored a lack of trust, as dubious as it may sound. The restraints provided a sense of comfort and security, keeping you in check.

Colin's throat bobbed as he swallowed nervously, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. "Ehh... sorry, but that's a no-can-do," he deflected your proposal with his trademark easy smile. "You understand, right? It's nothing personal. Jus’ think it's... better this way."

“Ugh…” you grunted, eyes rolling in annoyance. You relinquished your desires, holding back any further comments or demands.

After what felt like an eternity, Colin steeled his nerves enough to continue, no longer willing to delay the inevitable. In a swift motion, he grasped the waistband, sliding it down until his cock sprang free, bobbing slightly in the air. Your gaze, once fixated on the crop of brown pubic hair adorning the base, now traced the veiny pathways that ran along his thick length, leading to the swollen tip—flushed red and leaking. For a seemingly meek police detective, he sure had a nice looking dick.

You smiled as you leaned in, tilting your head closer. Your eyes, brimming with excitement, darted back and forth between his face and his erection, gauging his reaction as you tested the boundaries. Despite his initial apprehension, there was a glimmer of delight in his gaze. Encouraged by his response, you inched closer, your lips ghosting the underside of his shaft, your warm breath teasing his sensitive skin, coaxing it to twitch in response.

Colin squeezed his eyes shut, bracing himself for the moment. “Crap, look- in case it wasn’t obvious enough, it’s been a while for me,” he blurted out shakily, already roused by the sight of your pretty lips caressing the heat emanating from his dick, sending a wave of warmth sweeping over him. His legs parted further, an unspoken invitation for you to draw nearer. “So sorry if I…. Y’know.. too early.” He stammered with urgency.

“I mean, you already look like you’re ready to burst before I even touched you,” you shrugged with a light chuckle. “But I kinda like that.” You flashed him a playful smirk.

He remained speechless, his face flustered and turned away, a deep red painting his features in the stillness of the moment.

Regardless, you took the plunge, gently pressing your lips against the sensitive underside of his cock. A soft, almost inaudible moan escaped his lips, a clear sign for you to continue. From top to bottom, you peppered his length with tender, soothing kisses. His hand immediately reached for your hair, his fingers finding solace in the roots to distract himself from cumming too fast, careful not to exert too much force and risk hurting you.

"And sorry about the whole hair-holding thing. I, uh... need something to hold onto when I'm really focused," he confessed, his bashful laughter intertwining with his words. His face still burning a deep scarlet hue, the admission both vulnerable and endearing. "Habit," he added, his lips twitching with shy sincerity.

“You can grip my hair as hard as you want. I don’t mind a little rough treatment.” you shot a wink, a giggle escaping your lips. Lowering your head, you tilted it to the side, your tongue tracing a stripe against his sensitive balls. Eagerly, you pressed your face forward, your lips latching onto one of them, suckling on it with a gentle yet insistent rhythm, each release elicited a small pop.

“Mmff!— fuck..” Colin‘s jaw went slack, a deep groan rolling off his tongue the moment your mouth made contact, his resistance melting away under the spell of your touch. His dark brown eyes dilated, glazing over your form below him. “Yeah, jus’ like that… jus’ like that…” he managed to utter out, his heaving breaths punctuated by muttered words of approval. His fingers entwined with your hair, massaging the crown of your head in a visceral gesture of pleasure.

“Ooh, you like that don’t you?” you remarked, a playful lilt in your voice as you pulled back slightly, savoring the sight of the detective's face contorting with undeniable bliss. “I wanna hear it baby, tell me how much you needed this.” You crooned, face colored with a teasing grin.

“Okay-okay fine, I won’t lie…” Colin huffed, admittance causing eyes to flutter away. Amused, you chuckled, flattening your tongue against his length, gliding it along a long and deliberate path, coaxing the rest of his words to spill out. A delicious shiver of electricity ran down his spine, sending a cascade of goosebumps rippling down his skin from his erection being teased. “Agh!- y-yes I needed this, I really… really needed this.” he babbled out, his breath hitching with the weight of his confession.

Satisfied, you continued. Your kisses swept from the base and drifted all the way up to the tip of his cock, tongue salty with precum as it expertly caressed the ridges. Colin's body quivered, responding with an urgent jerk of his hips, a wordless plea for you to take his cock into the warm and wet comfort of your mouth. You could feel the urgency in his veins buzz with an electric fervor, beckoning you to go further. For the sake of soothing him, you pressed your lips right onto the swollen head, treating him to small kitten licks on his sensitive slit.

“You’re so goddamn gorgeous...” Colin moaned, teetering on the edge of a whimper. His hips bucked forward once more, ramming his tip deeper into your mouth. Each squirm of his body against the supple leather of the car seat produced a small squeak, almost serving as a subtle backdrop to the moment. “God, you scare the living crap outta me... but f-fuck, you’re sososo p-pretty!” He choked, another whimper caught in his throat.

“Mhm… that’s what I do best detective…” you mumbled with a full mouth, the warmth of his fluids clinging to your breath.

The evidence of your arousal was just as indisputable as his, your panties most definitely soaked from the act of using your mouth on the detective alone, cunt weeping from the lewd noises leaving him with each stroke. Your lips glided further down along him, accommodating his warm slickness as you relaxed your jaw. “Ohmygod- holy shit you feel so good...” he groaned. He slumped back against the backrest, head lolling over his shoulder as he fought to stifle a moan. “Ngh- so good f-for me…”

Despite the discomfort that knotted your knees and the soreness that gnawed at your back from kneeling on the unforgiving car floor longer than you should’ve (all while handcuffed too!), that fiery bundle of elation simmering in your belly powered you through it. After all, Colin was all you could focus on, eclipsing everything else. His raw groans, the incoherent praises that spilled from his mouth, and the way your name danced off his tongue like silk - it was all you needed in the moment, utterly invading every fiber of your being.

However, it wasn't just you who was losing yourself in the moment. Colin's mind short-circuited completely, overwhelmed by the mounting pleasure that had him seeing dazzling stars. Your heavenly skills had transformed his body into a molten state of arousal, practically dissolving into a puddle of liquid. In this state, his thoughts scrambled like a glitching, outdated computer, and your lack-of-hands situation compelled him to take the reins in a mindless frenzy.

"Hope ya’ don't mind if I jus’..." he mumbled hoarsely, his words stumbling out spontaneously. His hands cradled the sides of your head, anchoring you in place, hovering inches above his seat to steady his rhythm. His cock delved deeper into the confines of your throat as his hips undulated to the flow of his ragged panting. His heart galloped like a wild stallion, synchronizing with the rhythm you created, while he sunk himself further into the depths of your wet heat.

“Mmh!- ‘m almost there! Need a lil’ l-longer.” Colin sputtered out, throat straining to keep as quiet as possible. He could see the glistening of tears stinging your eyes, whimpers muffled out around him. He truly never intended to subject your poor mouth to such rough treatment, his tip bullying the back of your throat with each jerky thrust until it was sore, pushing so deep that your nose buried itself in the tufts of hair on his pelvis. Despite the guilt welling up in him, he couldn’t help himself at this point. His body was now like a machine, moving on its own accord to milk every ounce of pleasure he could get.

Even then, you didn’t even break eye contact, not even once. Not when this police detective who nursed a hidden disdain for your tempestuous presence behind faux smiles, was now coming undone right before you - His once neatly styled chestnut brown hair now clung to his sweat-drenched forehead, strands falling over his flushed, pale features. His lips, now parted and glistening, revealed a glimpse of vulnerability, while his doe eyes sparkled with a feverish glimmer. Everything about him in this moment was enthralling, leaving you no choice but to be mesmerized.

The rippling tremors jolting through Colin's frame reminded him that he was nearing his climax, fire pooling low in his abdomen ready to erupt. Between heavy panting, he plucked up the courage to voice his request, his fretful eyes scanning the confined space of the car. “Hey sooo uh- you um… y-you don’t mind if I don’t pull out… right?” he asked, vulnerability threaded through his tone. He definitely wasn’t eager to see his load spray onto anything inside his police car.

Your nose scrunched up in clear disapproval, a glare shooting daggers at him, clearly not a fan of swallowing. He clicked his tongue in disheartenment, head tilted to the side “C’mon, do me a favor will ya?… Not really lookin’ forward to making a mess in the car.” He pleaded breathlessly. To his relief, no signs of protest emerged, though a sullen mask adorned your face.

As he noticed your lack of resistance, he seized the opportunity to follow through with his words. “‘m sorry!- So sorry. I-I’ll make it up to you later. Really!” Colin bleated, tone brewing with guilt and that familiar undercurrent of pleasure.

Squeezing his eyes back shut, he rubbed the bridge of his nose in an attempt to quell the tightly coiled spring in his belly, yearning for release. His balls tightened, cock pulsing as his thrusts into your mouth turned sloppy. Consumed by a blinding, searing white that engulfed his senses, his mind completely blanked. With one final forceful pump, he held your head close, ropes of cum painting your mouth white. Trapped in his surprisingly strong grip, you gulped down the bitter torrent, suppressing the almighty urge to gag as your tongue battled with the assault.

Once you swallowed every last drop of his cum, Colin released his firm grip, withdrawing his now softened cock from your mouth. His hands fell limply to his sides, the air in the cramped car heavy with sweltering breaths, as though the two of you had just completed a grueling marathon on a hot summer’s day.

Gradually regaining his composure, Colin peeled his eyes open, his gaze fixed upon your chest rising and falling, your lips swollen and glistening with wetness. “Jeez uhh, are you okay?- I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Post orgasm clarity rushed over him like a gust of fresh air, his lips downturned with genuine concern. He hastily reached into his coat pocket, digging out and opening a tissue packet, gingerly dabbing away the saliva and residue from your chin and mouth.

You blinked in confusion, caught off guard by the unexpected act of care from the detective. Well, that was a first - no one had ever wiped your mouth for you after a blowjob, but then again, your hands were bound, rendering you immobile. “Yeah I’m fine, you didn’t really have to do that, but I appreciate the gesture.” you replied in a hoarse voice, head shying away from him.

Colin's face brightened with a smile, a wave of relief washing over him. You were right - the weight of his once overwhelming stress seemed to dissipate. In fact, he felt like a brand new man! It had been a long time since he had been intimate with a woman, so this encounter meant more to him than you could ever know.

In an unexpected twist, he scooped you up from the car floor, strong arms cradling your waist as he pulled you into a tight embrace, cocooning you on his lap. In that moment, the softie within him had taken over, aching to shower you with affection and gratitude for the pleasure you had shared.

Your shoulders tensed in his firm grasp, your wide eyes betraying a mix of surprise and alarm. You couldn't help but wonder if he always got this sentimental after engaging in intimacy, and you couldn't decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

"Woooow okay, so we're hugging now huh? Someone's feeling affectionate tonight," you noted with a touch of sarcasm. Yet, despite your initial resistance, you allowed him to hold you, gradually surrendering to the warmth of his arms. Deep down, buried beneath layers and layers of pride, a part of you secretly enjoyed this, even if you'd rather be drawn and quartered than admit it.

“Yeah, hope you don’t mind. It’s jus’ that… you did such a good job.” Colin chuckled, his hand gently caressing the small of your back. “And hey, would ya’ look at that! I really do feel so much better now. So, genuinely, thank you.” His words resonated softly against the crook of your neck as he rested his chin there, his arms remaining securely wrapped around you.

You allowed the weight of the moment to sink in, basking in the warmth and tenderness enfolding you. Then, an idea suddenly sprang to mind, and you couldn't resist voicing it. “Say… since I did one hell of a job, does that maybe mean I’m off the hook now?” You pulled back, a sly brow raised as you awaited his response.

Colin let out an exaggerated huff, his smile filled with amusement as he ruffled your hair into a delightful mess. “Nope,” he replied teasingly. “You’re still getting your butt thrown into the station for the night.“

Your expectant smile swiftly dropped into a deep frown, prompting a hearty pat on the back from the detective as he erupted into a fit of laughter. “Sorry kid,” He said between chuckles. “Now chop-chop, time for you to get in the back!”

-------☆-------

I’m aware I made Colin more pathetic than he actually is and I apologize- Idk I just could resist 😭😭 Hope the aftercare made up for it tho??

🤍 only tagging one person cuz idk who else wants to be tagged:

@lacucarachapisser

[howtofightwrite]

Is it possible to punch someone in the face in a way that causes visible damage, but doesn't impair them much in the long term?

It's extremely possible.

Your face is, mostly, a lot of soft tissue positioned directly over bone. This means that blows to the face, even relatively minor ones, are likely to produce disproportionately nasty looking injuries, without inflicting any meaningful impairment.

The first two are bleeding. Either from splitting the skin open, or via bruising. When there is bruising, there's also going to be some swelling (because there's relatively few places for the blood to go), so the victim has extremely visible injuries, which will be painful, but are otherwise mostly cosmetic.

Of course, bleeding from the face will look incredibly bad, whether that's from the nose, a split lip, or from simply from the skin tearing during the punch, but, again, that's going to be mostly cosmetic.

Cuts in the mouth can be a bit worse, but again, this can result in symptoms that look much worse than they are. Normally, if you're coughing up blood, that's an extremely bad situation, however, if someone has punched you in the nose and started a bleed running back down your throat, or if you've bitten your tongue or cheek, you may be literally spitting up blood, without being in serious peril.

Cuts to the cheeks and lips can also be caused by your foe driving the soft tissue into your teeth. This can also result in injuries that have difficulty clotting. The actual blood loss isn't serious, but it can be annoying if you've gotten a gashed lip that refuses to stop leaking blood for hours. (I'm speaking from personal experience here.)

A broken nose is a bit more serious. Not because they're particularly dangerous, but because it's likely to permanently alter the angle of your nose. This will also result in a lot of blood making the injury look worse than it actually is. Again, you're not going to lose a meaningful amount of blood, but it'll look exceptionally bad.

While it's less likely to occur with a punch, cuts to the forehead, even relatively solid gashes, are another cases where it will look far worse than the injury is. Your forehead is one of the most heavily armored portions of your body, and cuts there are likely to cause a lot of visible bleeding, without resulting in a meaningful loss of blood. If your body works the way it's supposed to, bleeding from the forehead should get into your eyebrows and flow around your eye, without obscuring your vision. In practice, you absolutely can get blood in your eyes, depending on your facial structure. I can't really speak to that experience, though I'd be inclined to say it's probably not especially pleasant.

Now, a lot of facial injuries hurt. Your face has a lot of nerve endings, and those are quite happy to report to your brain, when something's just caused it harm. This is especially true of your lips and tongue, as you use those organs extensively to evaluate the safety of the food you consume (even if you don't think about it.) (Chewing off a portion of my own lip to get the bleeding to stop still ranks as one of the most unpleasant bits of field care I've every experienced, and I strongly recommend not seeking out that experience.) So, this isn't without any impairment whatsoever, but in general, these aren't going to be life altering injuries, or even wounds that require weeks to fully recover from. Facial injuries are singularly unpleasant, but they are rarely serious. (Unless we're talking about damage to the eyes, or broken bones. Both of which are unlikely outcomes from punches.)

In a somewhat perverse way, blows to the face is ideal for inflicting injuries that look far worse than they actually are.

-Starke

This blog is supported through Patreon. Patrons get access to new posts three days early, and direct access to us through Discord. If you’re already a Patron, thank you. If you’d like to support us, please consider becoming a Patron.

[atarathegreat]

Wearing Their Glasses

ft: Rindou Haitani, Kazushi Yamagishi, Baji Keisuke, Hanma Shuji

Rindou never minded that you knew about his past, he felt that it brought the both of you closer, if anything. He understood that he was hard to readand hard to get along with, and maybe if you knew about his childhood and all the gang bullshit then you could work around who he was now. And for the most part you did. You rarely asked him questions since you knew he would answer them all no matter what mood he was in. He'd been honest about how many men he'd killed, how many hits he'd ordered, even let you go to work with him on days he felt would be calm. But this was crossing a line. "What the hell are you doing with those?" Rindou froze in his spot on the couch as you walked in, a pair of circular glasses perched on your nose. You looked cute in his old glasses, he'd give you that, but he also preferred that part of him stay hidden. Contacts kept him from looking like a nerd and he couldn't bear the idea that you might think he was cute in glasses. Especially those dorky ass wire rims. You smiled and poked them higher on the bridge of your nose, "Found them in the closet. Are they yours?" Of course they were his, and he knew that you were aware of that from the grin that curled your lips upward. The same grin he was glaring at as he slammed into you for another time, your soft giggles making him harder as he tried to forget how you teased him over the glasses. "Rinny, you look so cute." Another soft moan, another gentle touch that moved the glasses back to his nose. Why did he agree to put them on? He knew you would compliment him, and he knew he was a whiney bitch for your praise. Each panted breath and your words of so cute and can't believe you stopped wearin' glasses was sending his brain deeper into the fog. Rindou reached around you, his hands grabbing at the flesh of your ass to lift you with him as he kept burying his cock deeper and deeper. A blush dusted your cheeks, you were always so red by the time Rindou was done with you, and he wouldn't be done anytime soon if you didn't stop calling him cute.

<3<3<3&lt;3<3<3<3<3

Each day was the same. Come in, handle business, leave. Kazushi wasn't anymore complicated than that. He didn't stay over, didn't pick up extra work and he never, never left his work unfinished. If someone else was dumb enough to slack off that was their fault and not Kazushi's problem to fix. Handling things had been made a little harder by the fact that he had left home in a rush that morning and forgotten his glasses, which also meant the drive home was a little slower than usual as well. Kazushi's vision wasn't impaired too badly, but he did like to see what the street signs said before he blew past them. Getting to his destination safely was something you had always jumped his ass for. "Bikes are dangerous, Kazushi!" And you'd throw your arms in the air, "If you don't slow down you could crash, or lose control and the end up smashed under some car tires!" You were a bit on the dramatic side to him. But, this was also the man who'd been riding bikes since he was in middle school, be it he was a passenger or the driver. "Babe, can you grab my glasses?" He called as he stacked his shoes by the door, "I left them this morning." The very last thing he expected, if it could even be on his list, was you trotting around the corner with what he wanted sat on your pretty face. "I wore them a bit today." Had you always looked at him with such big eyes? Kazushi didn't care to try and answer that question, not when your cries were so perfect from him folding you in half. Your breasts bounced in tandem with each of his thrusts as he fucked himself into you roughly. Kazushi chuckled as his glasses slipped down your nose, so he fixed them for you, "Keep these on, pretty girl, and keep those eyes open."

<3<3<3&lt;3<3<3<3<3

"You must be really blind if you need glasses to study." You were making fun of him again as he glared at you over his glasses. The way you laughed was enough to make him take them off. Baji just wanted to get his work done the right way, that's the only reason you were there, to help him since he couldn't grasp the math. He knew he'd made a mistake going to college, especially once you managed to wrap him around your pinky finger so tightly he couldn't breathe. "I'm kidding, Baj!" You whined as he threw the glasses across his bed, only succeeding in making them fall between the wall and bed to hit the floor, "You didn't have to do all that." He cursed at the work in front of him. Baji really didn't want to do any of the fucking work, and he'd risk failing the class again if it wasn't for Chifuyu helping pay for the damn classes. "C'mere." When had you crawled onto his bed? You were bent on all fours with your hand stretched to reach for the lenses. The sight of your ass wiggling in the air as you struggled to grab what you were reaching for made his cock ache. And it certainly didn't help when you dropped them on your face and sat across from him. "Get over here." Baji tied his hair back, kicking the table to the side. "The math-" "Can fuckin' wait. I said come here." He wasn't sure he'd ever get used to the sight of you riding him naked, but now he at least knew that it was ten times better when you had his glasses on. "So fuckin' gorgeous f'me." His hands dug into your hips as he made you grind on him, "Don't let those come off your nose, not even for a single fuckin' second." Baji was aware of the fact his voice alone was driving you crazy, he didn't have to reach down and pinch at your clit, but he wanted to watch those pretty eyes roll back into your empty head as his cock bullied your insides.

<3<3<3&lt;3<3<3<3<3

Hanma didn't care to be subtle about what he wanted from you, even in public. You knew you were in for it if he was slipping the arms of his glasses over your ears, his slender fingers being extra careful as he tucked a strand of hair with them. Had you not worn that dress he liked oh-so much, you probably would've been fine. But no. You had to tempt him, had to want his attention that was undivided with everything Tokyo Manji was doing. "Look at you," He drawled, sounding more bored than anything as he lazily pumped only the head of his cock into your sex, "greedy little thing you are. So busy worrying about my dick and not enough about me." You had already fallen apart from his tip alone, your muscles clenching around him each time he moved into you in an attempt to make him want more. He did, and you knew he did from just how hard he was, how swollen he felt moving through your folds. A loud yelp sounded from you as he slapped your clit, "Open eyes, sweetheart, keep sucking me in and I might give you what you want."

[ohsc]

Maybe something with the reader being shaken-up about a case?

hi lovely! tysm for the ask <3 | sam winchester x fem!reader, 1.2k, hurt/comfort, implied trauma, brief implied gore, brief mentions of death, brief mentions of vomit, sam being so soft and gentle, mostly comfort

She didn’t realise that she was crying until she couldn’t see.

It was like she was looking through an obscure glass window. The bunker’s kitchen blurred out of view, lost behind the film of tears that was quickly leaking.

It was almost funny. She was only eating a sandwich, nothing more. Nothing had been said, nothing had happened. She wasn’t even thinking, not really. Her thoughts had sounded fuzzy and distorted since the case they’d worked two days ago.

She blinked, the film of tears broke and dripped down her cheeks, and the bite of sandwich in her mouth suddenly felt like chewing cotton, like it wouldn’t melt down. She had to swallow it in two lumps, by which point she couldn’t see again, the tears were building too rapidly.

With her impaired vision, the only reason she was able to tell that Sam had also realised she was crying, was when she felt his warm palm against her face.

“Hey,” his voice was so soft it made her chest hurt. “Hey, baby, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”

She blinked rapidly to repair her vision, eyelashes tickled with the tears that dropped from them, and when she looked up at him all she could do was nod. She was scared of the sound that'd come out of her if she tried to talk. The pressure in her chest was building like a mentos and coke experiment. If she opened the lid, she’d burst.

Sam thumbed her tears away, delicate as always, and crouched in front of her. He looked so worried. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t his sadness.

“Easy, sweetheart,” he squeezed her knee, and rubbed at her thigh with his free hand. “Do you want some water?”

He didn’t wait for her nod to get up and retrieve it. The glass was cold when it was pushed into her hands, and it took four sips before it felt like the lump in her throat had dissolved only slightly. But it was helping.

Sam didn’t push her to talk. He sat beside her on the bench of the table and rubbed his palm along her spine as she sipped from the cool relief. He was so nice it made her want to cry more. How could someone be so loving? How did he fit all of the gentleness inside of him? His ribs must’ve been straining with the pressure.

“Sorry,” her voice felt too small, too weak. “I don’t know why I’m crying.”

Sam rubbed the heel of his palm between her shoulder blades. “Don’t be sorry,” he murmured in that gentle tone of his. “Do you think it could be… I mean, is it the case? Is that what’s bothering you?”

“I’m…” her breath wavered on her inhale. “I don’t-”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Sam took one of her hands with his free one, laced their fingers until all of their knuckles were kissing. “It’s alright, sweetheart. You’re safe.”

The lump in her throat bobbed, and she had to sip the water again.

The case they’d worked that past Wednesday was the first case that had made her physically throw up. The grass has been damp beneath her knees, dew from the green soaked into the denim of her jeans as she hunched over and emptied her stomach, the side panel of the Impala cold beneath her palm where she steadied herself. Sam’s hand had been warm against the back of her neck. Dean’s jacket had been a little heavy over her shoulders. The scene that played in her mind of what they had seen inside that house like a broken film reel had been disgusting. It had been downright evil.

It was the first case that she’d had to step back from and let the boys do their job. The first case she’d sat in the backseat of the Impala for whilst the boys buried what was left of the body.

It was the first case that had numbed her mind a little on the drive back home.

And it was the first case she’d cried about two days after.

The obscure glass was back in the role of contact lenses. Her hand squeezed Sam’s until hers shook, but he didn’t mind. He leaned over her until she was tucked against his side completely, like he’d held her on the drive home from the case.

“I don’t like our job sometimes.” Her voice broke, muffled by his collar. She inhaled deeply, tried to ground herself with his scent.

“I know.”

“I wish we’d never gone there.”

“I know, sweetheart.”

“She was already dead-” the words came out warped around a hiccup and she put her glass down to hug him instead, arms wrapped around his waist like she couldn’t bare to be any further from him.

Sam’s hand came up and stroked through her hair, something that he knew soothed her. Deft fingers pushed through the strands of her hair, nails scratched at her scalp so so lightly, until some of the tension had left her body, left her drained against him.

Her chest still ached.

“You know what I think about, after cases that we don’t win? Cases like that?” Sam’s voice was soft, she heard it through his chest, a deep rumble that had as much of an affect on her as a cat purring in her lap.

“Hm?”

“It’s cheesy, I know, but I think about all the people we’ve saved,” his fingers continued their ministrations as her tears soaked into his shirt. “And we’ve saved so many — you’ve saved so many.”

“But not her.” Her voice broke.

Sam took a breath. “No, not her,” he murmured. “Nobody said this life was easy. But if we wanted the easy life, think about how many people wouldn’t be here because we hadn’t saved them.”

It was a nice thought. That there were people around, living and loving and breathing because of them. But that girl…

“It’ll hurt for a while,” Sam murmured. “It’ll hurt for longer than a while. I can't say anything that’ll ease it. I wish I could, sweetheart,” he kissed her temple. “But… we do a lot of good, you know. You do.”

She nodded, but didn’t respond. She breathed through the rest of her tears in Sam’s arms, and only when the ache in her ribs had lessened did she lean back and looked up at him.

He smiled so softly that made her wonder how he was so perfect for her. It made her wonder how many lives they’d lived together before this one.

“What do you need, sweetheart?” Sam murmured as he lifted a hand and delicately wiped at her eyes, before he just held her jaw like he was holding light. “A bath? A nap? D’you wanna go for a drive?”

Her head rested in his palm like it was crafted for that purpose alone. “A nap sounds nice.”

“Yeah?” Sam smiled a little more, and leaned in to kiss her forehead. She wanted to cry again. “Then we’ll nap.”

Her eyes watered again when she murmured, “Thanks, Sammy.”

“Hey, ‘course,” Sam wiped at her tears once more, like he was trying to brush water from the pages of a book. Delicate, not wanting to ruin what was underneath. “I love you, okay?” He kissed her forehead once more. “We’ll get through this.”

We’ll. Maybe they would, if she had him.

[barbs111claims]

You are Universe looking back at itself

(Guys, brace yourself because it is not going to be your usual post.)

I don't know if you guys understand why it is "assumption".

The thing we see, hear, smell, touch, taste. They aren't real. I'm not trying to say the same thing again and again.

I'm not emotional blackmailing you to have faith in imagination in order to have your desires in 3D. But I'm telling you to have faith in imagination because it is the only truth. The source creation.

If the 3D is actually real and vivid as it seems,

there wouldn't be Ageusia, Dysgeusia, Color Blindness, Anosmia, Anaphia and literally tons other mental illness or disorders.

Dysgeusia: A condition where taste is distorted, leading to unusual or unpleasant flavors. Color blindness: A deficiency in color vision, usually involving difficulty distinguishing between certain colors. Dysacusis: A hearing disorder where sounds are distorted or unclear, making them hard to understand despite normal hearing. Anosmia: The total loss of the sense of smell, often caused by damage to the olfactory system Anaphia: The loss or impairment of the sense of touch, often due to nerve or brain damage.

Similarly between them?

"In short, they all relate to disruptions in the way the body processes sensory information."

Now, what proves that our entire lives that what we feel is not a distortion?

our brain? the only thing that distorts?

science? the thing is which is created by human brain?

These disorders happens due to a change in neural pathway in brains or due to medical treatment of which it affects the brain of some people which alters their entire reality.

People with color blindess don't know that their brain cannot see certain colors until other people make that person aware. Only then, the person with the color blindness gets aware of their condition, so till then... That person assumes that is their reality because that's what consciousness does.

So now, what if everyone on earth had color blindness?

It would simply just be the 'true reality'.

Brain provides distortion and consciousness accepts which then repeated becomes a belief in deep subconscious mind.

Nothing is "truth". We don't actually see 3D but the brain repeats us the old assumptions again and again.

That's why 3D is a reflection of our own mind.

The assumptions doesn't affect the 3D but becomes the 3D.

Assumptions are the true reality, 4D is the true reality.

Whether new or old, there is no "true reality" out there. (link)

There is no active 3D existing. Everything is 4D. Your so called material world is just interpreted by your brain through sensory nerves. You were always living in your head.

"Oh but why do need something external like water if we only live in our head?"

Because you exist in a physical body at this moment. Your body needs it. You don't. So you can actually shift to a reality where you don't need water.

Our physical never had to suffer or endure pain, we were provided with abundant water, minerals, trees which ripe fruits, vegetables, human physical and mental strength to power other creatures since the dawn.

"Oh then why do we innovate new physical objects if it already exists in 4D?"

Because we are source of creation. Our imagination, 4D. We don't just create out of no where. Just like how the airplane was a fantasy of the Wright brothers before it came into existence. We imagine something, we drive in creating.

Everything that is existing right now is a fantasy of the creator.

We are a mere fantasy of I am.

We are the I am conceived in human form who then forgot ourselves and became a dream character.

When we are first born, our subconscious develops at 6months. The duty of subconscious is solely to protect and serve you. The baby in the womb knows how to suck milk from the mother. Your subconscious protects you now and forever, you then develop consciousness which has the possibility to change the subconscious belief considering changes in adaptation in surroundings and to mend with the society.

That's why kids are very 'spongy' from 6-8yrs. Their conscious and subconscious both are developing together. This is where their majority life's belief starts forming deep onto their subconscious.

(Your subconsciousness is why you are here, making you able to read this at the moment. Heart beat, lungs functioning etc. It developed long ago and is consciously listening, it can't process every thoughts like consciousness, it just simply takes you as the dominant thought)

You get adapted to 3D and forget about 4D.

So it becomes 3D-> 4D->3D (old assumptions becomes 'true'.)

instead of 4D-> 3D-> 4D (you create assumption, your own reality which then becomes the 'true').

You are only truth, I am.

Whatever state you associate yourself with after that is an illusion that you can choose to be.

Anything is possible to I am.

You were/are/will be void forever.

You are whatever you desire and get conscious of.

[tsaomengde]

The Villeneuve Dune(s) can be broadly interpreted as one of the two possible futures Paul sees in the original novel

Spoilers below for Dune Part Two. (And for the original novel, but that's been out since the 60s.)

He had seen two main branchings along the way ahead--in one he confronted an evil old Baron and said: "Hello, Grandfather." The thought of that path and what lay along it sickened him.

The other path held long patches of grey obscurity except for peaks of violence. He had seen a warrior religion there, a fire spreading across the universe with the Atreides green and black banner waving at the head of fanatic legions drunk on spice liquor. Gurney Halleck and a few others of his father's men--a pitiful few--were among them, all marked by the hawk symbol from the shrine of his father's skull.

"I can't go that way," he muttered. "That's what the old witches of your schools really want."

Obviously the Doylist explanation for why there are differences in the new films is that the original book is 60+ years old and has certain elements no longer in cultural vogue that were adapted out or altered to better fit modern sensibilities, and I'm all for that. But I did find it interesting that there is an explicit moment at the end of Part 2 where Paul confronts the Baron, utters the "Hello, Grandfather," line, and kills him.

This isn't necessarily because there is any one choice that Paul makes throughout the course of the two movies that leads here instead of to the jihad. In point of fact, most of the changes that drive him here are caused by choices made in the adaptations of the films.

The causal chain that leads to Paul undertaking the spice agony is his failure to predict the attack on Sietch Tabr, rather than his failure to predict Gurney's attack on Jessica; this is, of course, necessitated by the omission of the Harkonnen scheme in part 1 to impair Thufir's Mentat efficiency and potentially drive a wedge between Leto and Jessica by framing Jessica as the traitor. The final push that causes him to make the decision is, of course, the vision he experiences of an alternate future in which he didn't have to kill Jamis, with Jamis counseling him to climb as high as possible before the hunt so he can see as far as possible. (In other words, he ignores Stilgar's advice of not listening to the djinn.)

Similarly, his killing of the Baron is necessitated by the adaptational choice to keep Alia as a fetus so the audience doesn't have to deal with a two-year-old talking like an adult and killing the Baron, which they probably did because it would have been distracting.

However, I might argue that a Watsonian explanation for the film omitting the two-year time-jump lies specifically with Paul's decision to explicitly disavow the prophecy when Jessica undergoes the spice agony, and to explain to the Fremen that her survival is because of her Bene Gesserit training. He then attempts to secure his position with the Fremen through secular deeds, rather than letting Jessica carve a place for them with the BG prophesy.

This disagreement between the two of them causes her in turn to take a more active approach in cultivating Paul's status as Lisan al-Gaib, which accelerates the timeline of the Fremen being ready to submit to him. In turn, Paul focusing more strongly on guerrilla war against the Harkonnens accelerates the timeline of Feyd-Rautha being put in charge of Arrakis and cracking down hard in the north, leading to the aforementioned crisis point of Sietch Tabr being attacked without Paul's foreknowledge.

Notably, while we do see the shrine of Leto's skull in the film, we only see it in a vision; there is no moment in the movie where Paul explicitly finds his father's remains and enshrines them. Hence, going from a strict interpretation of the film's "text," this is not the future in which the legions are marked by the shrine, because the shrine doesn't exist. It is the other future. The compression of time means that Paul and Chani's relationship is much newer and more fragile and doesn't survive the strain of his apotheosis, and that's what sickens him most.

Of course, the "Hello, Grandfather" path also leads to the jihad, because Paul's tragedy is that his very existence was always going to lead to it, regardless of what he chose to do.

And Paul saw how futile were any efforts of his to change any smallest bit of this. He had thought to oppose the jihad within himself, but the jihad would be. His legions would rage out from Arrakis even without him. They needed only the legend he already had become. He had shown them the way, given them mastery even over the Guild which must have the spice to exist.

Obviously none of this passes explicit, close scrutiny, and is more of a fun "if you squint and look at it a certain way it kind of makes sense." I expect that the line was put in as a nod to the original book, no more or less, but making up head-canons like this is fun for me and if even one other person finds it edifying then I consider sharing it time well spent!

[onesidedradiostatic]

Omg I tried to send a deer fact but it was in picture form dhdjsh here’s the text version

“Deer have a normal daylight eyesight of about 20/60, which means they see 3 times less clearly than humans! If you have ever made eye contact with a deer for what felt like an eternity, it is likely because they are trying to figure out exactly what they're looking at.”

Just imagining Vox thinking he’s having some intense eye conversation with Alastor across a dimly lit room, but Alastor just can’t fuckin see. He’s experiencing what it’s like to be driving at night and some dickwad passes with LED headlights…

Vox really is out there having a type, and that type is vision impaired/light sensitive. Struck out with light-repulsed Al, but hit a home run with light-attracted Val

If Vox set up an Alastor detection program on his camera network, would he call it the Trail Cam

If Alastor’s jumping ability is anything like a deer’s, his agility would know no bounds

Also I think we’ve been robbed of seeing Alastor sproing about, the people demand!!! sproing!!! stot!!! PRONK!!!! Let him PRANCE. Maybe it’s classified. Maybe that’s how he chases down victims, they fail to run as fast because they’re too distracted. (Wait he did do some jumping while fighting Adam, but does that count?)

WOOOOOOOOOO WE FIGURED OUT VOX'S TYPE (people with bad eyesight), vox likers who have bad eyesight you're in luck!!!!!!!

[wheelie-sick]

let me just list off an assortment of experiences mildly visually impaired people have in life:

lack of the ability to drive. the world is car-based, public transportation is awful. I don't need to say more

lack of the ability to interact with a photo-based internet. how many times do you see screenshotted tweets with no ID? what about images with even smaller text than that? do images make up a majority of your dashboard? well guess what, VI people are getting that same experience without the ability to [easily] engage with those images!

job discrimination. how many jobs can you think of that don't require vision? like, truly don't require it? probably a couple, but imagine if you were functionally confined to working at a call center unless you had a degree. any other job requires extensive accommodations not to mention the low odds of actually being hired there.

navigation. you probably take reading those street signs for granted! oh you don't read those? what about the aisle labels in stores? not even those? what about picking apart different items within the aisle? it becomes difficult to navigate even with a relatively low amount of vision loss. you figure it out but it takes time and a good memory for where things are

alllll the little things. every VI person has a long list of little things they struggle with or have to adapt in their day to day life.

and you know how many of those experiences you get as someone with fully corrected vision who wears glasses? none.

[mizgnomer]

Behind the Scenes of The Star Beast - Part Three

Excerpt from Benjamin Cook’s Star Beast Set Visit in DWM 597:

Meanwhile on set, Catherine Tate is struggling to carry a stack of cardboard boxes through the market. To be fair, it’s a lofty stack. Her vision is impaired. She cannot see. “I think this is the reason I don’t drive,” she says. “I’ve got no brain for spacial awareness. How do I look?” “Amazing,” says Yasmin Finney (known as Yaz), who plays Donna’s daughter, Rose. “This is certainly a moment,” she adds. “Yes, it is, thank you,” says Catherine, dropping the boxes. None of this is in the script. “How can I make it look like I know what I’m doing?” Here’s what’s scripted: “Hold on. Hold on! Let me help,” says the Doctor, running over. He takes the top box and sees who it is – oh no! “Thank you very much,” says Donna. Very calmly, the Doctor puts the box back. “Oi! Do you mind?!” she says. “If you’re finished playing games, mister.”

Despite “the incredible scope” – Rachel’s words [Rachel Talalay, director] – of this Camden shoot, it’s characterful moments like this one, the Doctor and Donna meeting again after all these years, that make The Star Beast’s hearts beat. “Actors of this calibre don’t lose sight of that,” says Rachel, “and neither must I. Russell has written it so brilliantly – I adore Russell – so I have to make sure these moments work. They’re the emotional core of this episode, and this is the moment we’ve all been waiting for: the Doctor and Donna, back together! Setting eyes on each other again…” “Would I keep hold of the box?” wonders David. “I suppose I’ve got to be polite somehow.” “I think it’s that or he runs away,” agrees Rachel. “Yeah, sure. No, absolutely.” “Still looking good,” Yaz whispers to Catherine, encouragingly, as the boxes are re-stacked. “I know,” Catherine whispers back, “I’m feeling damn fine. I think it’s the shoes.” She has a question for Rachel: “When I say, ‘This stuff’s not mine, it’s hers. Oh, where’s she gone? Rose! ROSE!’, am I looking at him” – this is David – “or at the boxes, or looking around for Yaz?” “Well…” replies Rachel (this is the director’s lot: fielding dozens of question every minute), “I think you’d be looking at David, but what feels more natural? And when you do the very loud ‘ROSE!’, is that working for you both?” “It’s working for me,” says David. “It’s quite weird, she’s shouting it in my face –” “Donna’s in her own world, isn’t she?” says Catherine. “I like that.” “I like that too,” says David. So does Rachel. “I totally trust you guys’ instincts.” “Oh, I wouldn’t do that,” says Catherine, with a chortle.

A huge THANK YOU to everyone who posted set photos

Additional parts of this set are in the #whoBtsBeast tag. The full episode list is [ here ]

[olderthannetfic]

Why is there now apparently discourse about how listening to audiobooks isn't REAL reading, of course with maximum condescension?

I guess the assumption is that people listen to audiobooks because they don't have the attention span to sit down and focus on reading a book? And that by not forcing themselves to read they're further rotting their brains?

In my experience, choosing audiobooks over written books has everything to do with time and place and very little to do with attention span and preference. Most people listen to audiobooks while driving, doing chores or hobbies, exercising, etc. because they're adults with busy lives who still want to experience books.

Or, they have impaired vision and physically cannot read, in which case this whole argument is especially mean-spirited.

--

I definitely can have a different experience of a book that way. A good reader can add a lot or things can be harder to follow without seeing how some made-up word is spelled or whatever. But yes, it's a silly form of gatekeeping.

Reading reading is superior because it's one of the fastest ways to input a shitton of information, and it's more likely to teach you spelling and punctuation. But that's it. It won't make you more of an intellectual. It won't mean you're more or less capable of experiencing a book that also has an audio version.

This is the kind of thing we should care about for school kids because, no matter how we go on about different learning styles, the kid who has to use documentary/audio/etc. is going to input half the info of the kid who is good at reading words on a page. Vocabularies suffer, among other obvious signs and issues. (Yes, even if you listen at 2x speed. It's only comparable if you're a slow reader of text, the very thing school wants to address.)

But for an adult trying to do a handsfree activity? For someone savoring a fiction book for entertainment where speed is not a priority and may even be a minus? For someone who actually is a bad reader of text but likes books?

I'm perfectly willing to entertain the semantic argument about what constitutes "reading", but people aren't making a semantic argument: they're saying "You're dumb if you listen instead of using words on a page".

--

Honestly, aside from pure snobbery, I think a lot of this comes from people whose attention wanders when they listen but who are voracious and unusually capable readers of text. It never occurs to them that other people are more skilled at listening.

[astros-turf]

Listen. As someone that's been on YouTube and the Internet in general for a long time now and remember when captions on YouTube videos were widely used as a place to add in extra thoughts (think tagging on Tumblr), I think there's a HUGE difference between "oh oopsie, I left super old captions in!" And "I am profiting off of this media, it's becoming increasingly popular. I need to make sure every aspect of this is polished and accessible for as many viewers as possible so I can continue to profit." That's why it's viewed as unprofessional, and that's not even scratching the surface of the ableism of it, as my spouse mentioned in the previous reblog.

Subtitles are (and they always have been, even if a wide range of people abused them) a service to disabled people that need them. I myself have auditory processing issues and need those captions to understand what's being said. (Not every time, but it's happening a lot more frequently now) so seeing stuff like this brushed off by the general public is annoying because captions are an accessibility item. It would be like giving someone a pair of glasses with only one lens. It helps a bit and you can get the general jist, but it doesn't make life fully accessible for you, and you still have to work hard to process what you're seeing because you have to do extra work to process what's really going on.

it's not the end of the world to make mistakes. However, it is extremely disheartening and telling if the mistake could be easily corrected to make it more accessible for people and you just don't do it.

Hellaverse fan poorly explains problems people have with the shows, in no particular order (10)

Not moth like enough

Design is also seen as “awful”

“Suddenly” has an ego

OOPS original subtitles were seen as “unprofessional”

Man started experiencing insecurities and need to prove himself